#the last chapter is also slowly sucking my soul dry but that can be a problem for another day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

animeyanderelover · 1 year

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Hi, may I ask for a au where Itachi, Pain, Sasori, Sasuke and Dabi are vampires? (If it's too mich characters then just Itachi please! And also sorry if my English isn't too good! Thank you)

Your English is good, don't worry. Vampires are always nice, aren't they? I originally planned some basic Headcannons but got hit by a sudden bolt of inspiration, you now can write a story with multiple chapters out of what I’ve written.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, stalking, manipulation, sabotage, isolation, threats, violence, abduction, death, abuse, blood, traumatized s/o in Sasuke’s part

Vampire AU

Pain

🌧️Pain has never left the region where he was born, too attached to the place to leave it behind. His home country is known for it’s rainy weather as sunny days are not that common. The rain has never bothered Pain as it has become his sole companion throughout his lonely and immortal years. He never interacts with humans, even has a slight superiority complex since he sees himself above them. He loves his home though as well as it’s inhabitants since they’re his prey. He has claimed a large territory and since he’s known to be extremely strong, vampires rarely try to hunt on his ground since he can sense them quickly. If a band of thieves tries to wreck havoc and kill his source of food, the vampire brutally hunts them down and feeds from them until they can’t quench his thirst anymore and he disposes of their body. He also uses the constant rain to lure travelers to his hidden home, offering them a temporary place to stay until the rain has at least weakened. Obviously once someone steps inside, they are never heard from again.

🌧️You are one of many silly travelers who crosses his territory. He has control over the weather and worsens it on purpose until you struggle to advance even one step further. That’s when he appears, a coat hiding his face from you as he overs you to stay in his home until the weather has calmed down a bit. You hesitate at first to accept until raindrops start hitting you like a whiplash thanks to the wind and you decide to follow the man. He leads you to a stone cottage, surrounded by mist and large and thick trees. You step inside, notice what little furniture you see until you hear the door behind you being closed and unease crawling up your spine. You turn slowly around to see the man removing his hood and are met with purple eyes and a face full of piercings. His pupils are dilated as he stares right through your soul, taking in the most enchanting scent he’s ever had the luck to smell. It all comes crashing down on you when you see his sharp canines but before you can even do as much as scream, he’s suddenly in front of you, sharp teeth sinking into your neck. The last thing you notice before fainting is the man pulling back with a surprised moan.

🌧️When you come back to your senses, you’re lying in a bed, memories hazy and a dull pain throbbing in your neck. Wait, your neck? That’s when everything hits you and suddenly you shoot up, hissing as the pain intensifies from your sudden movement. Your hand shoots to your neck and you notice the bandages around it. That’s when the door opens and your new nightmare walks in with a tray of food and a glass of water. He scolds you to not move so much, warns you that if you open the wound and start bleeding, he won’t be able to control himself. You stare terrified at him, a vampire. Why didn’t he kill you? As if reading your mind, the man explains the situation to you. It appears like you have a very special and rare type that is exceptionally fine nutrition for his kind. It would have been a waste to suck you dry. Your blood runs cold as you understand what he means. You’re to become his personal blood bag. He puts the tray down in front of you, demands you to consume everything to ensure your health and taste of your blood.

🌧️Your life is essentially not yours anymore as the vampire starts taking care of your health. Enough sleep, nutritious food, enough consumption of water and your hygiene. It almost looks like he cares but you know that he only cares about the blood inside of you. He’s cold to you, not gentle when he bites harshly down and gulps blood until you feel dizzy and faint. If you throw a tantrum, he grips you harshly enough until bruises start to form or uses his hypnosis on you to make you lose consciousness. If he catches you trying to escape, he breaks your leg and tortures you with visions. You hate him but he doesn’t care. Or so you thought. Maybe it is because he never spent as much time with someone before. He starts growing fond of you in a weird way, enjoys your company. He stares more at you, hesitates when he sees your fearful face and even feels a tinge of remorse. He’s less forceful when he takes your blood, massages the stiffness out of your muscles so that it’ll hurt less. He tells you his real name after he’s drank from you again, lost in your scent and warmth as he almost nuzzles against your neck. Yahiko. That’s his name.

🌧️You don’t believe in the nicer change of attitude, he must have ulterior motives. You’re shocked when he pulls you one day into his lap, try to wriggle free before he tells you warningly to not resist as he starts tugging away the material from your shoulder. You tense up, know what will come now but are caught a little bit off-guard by the arm wrapping around your waist. It must be to stop you from squirming away. His other hand starts caressing the skin on your shoulder, previous bite wounds visible as scars. You suppress the noise of pain when you feel the familiar stinging pain and hear shortly how he softly starts swallowing your blood. You’re uncomfortable and in pain, want to get away from him as soon as possible. You think you can as soon as he stopped drinking but the arm around you tightens when he senses you moving away. His grip is strong and unyielding as he mumbles in a deep voice that he wants you to stay for a bit. And for the first time in forever it sounds less like a demand and more like a genuine plead.

🌧️You stay because he won’t loosen his grip. You stare at him warily, heart hammering anxiously against your chest as he starts sniffing your neck, inhaling your scent. You flinch when you see the flash of his teeth, gracing over your drumming pulse. You expect his teeth to pierce your skin once more but are flabbergasted when he merely places a soft kiss on your skin. He starts littering your neck in kisses, the kisses getting harsher as he starts panting slightly against your neck, alarming you to squirm around in his grip as another fear engulfs you. Your efforts are cut off when Pain turns you around so that you face him, lips crashing greedily against yours as he grabs your hands and pins them against his chest. He’s sure that if he’d still have a heart, it would be racing by now out of an euphoria he’s never felt before. You’re breathless as you stare in utter shock at Yahiko who’s watching you with a weird glimmer in his eyes. You almost think that it’s love but that can’t be. That is until he says that he’ll keep you as his mate and lover, promises that he’ll protect you from anything. He says it with a fond voice but you know that he’ll force it on you like he always does.

Sasori

🦂There are humans who fear vampires and people who admire them. Sasori belonged in the latter category. Obsessed with eternal beauty and spiteful about the fact that he’d eventually die out of old age, he searched for a way to extract the poison from the vampires that turned humans into their kind. He abandoned his own humanity to remain youthful and beautiful without one bit of regret. Turning into a vampire made him look down on humans and their emotions, weak and irrational. A morbid hobby started for Sasori when he discovered how to turn a human body into a doll. He starts searching for unique and beautiful people, poisons them and turns them into puppets of different material. He has wax dolls, wood puppets and fine porcelain figures depending on the material he thinks will suit them best. He always extracts all the blood from his victims and stocks it until he consumes it. Often in fine wine glasses. He travels around to search for new pieces for his collection, prides himself that he has an eye for beauty and uniqueness.

🦂You catch his attention, the worst thing that could happen to anyone. Sasori settles for you as his next victim but something about you still dissatisfies him. He thinks that you haven’t reached your full potential yet so he takes it as his job to guide you to be the most beautiful you can be until you’re worthy of his collection. It isn’t the first time that he’s approached his victims with such motives. Occasionally he isn’t opposed to fooling humans with his charm but only when he sees the price at the end of it all as worthy. He only bothers with you for that reason. You’re his price. He’s an interesting and gorgeous fella, although terribly snarky when you don’t do as he says. You feel drawn to him for some reason though, unsuspecting that Sasori uses his powers on you. He fusses a lot about your appearance, advices you to try a new haircut and throws a small drama when you hurt yourself with a tiny scratch. Terribly impatient too, when he wants a meeting with you he’s already in a bad mood when you turn up a few minutes too late.

🦂The whole friendship thing isn’t supposed to be anything more than that but you seem different from the average person he’s murdered. Your smile as fleeting as breathtaking, the twinkle in your eyes when you’re amused about something and your own quips appeal to him. He wouldn’t be able to capture that part of your beauty if he were to turn you into a lifeless puppet and when that thought crosses his mind for the first time, he’s startled. What is wrong with him all of a sudden? He never cared about that before. He grows bitter for a while, can’t come to terms with the fact that he might have gained feelings for you. He notices so much about you and the more he sees, the more special you become for him in return. Over time he becomes obsessed with you though. Everything about you is memorized and every smile and dazzling laughter is remembered as Sasori starts feeling funny when in your presence. He’s never felt like this before, he’s a bit overwhelmed. He’s torn apart all of a sudden, knows that this can’t go on like this forever though. The next time he comes over to your house, he poisons you.

🦂You scream when you wake up inside a glass box, wearing clothes that make you look like the doll of some rich kid. You barely have enough space to stand and can’t open the damn thing. You panic, tears in your eyes as you fear to suffocate in this thing until you notice someone standing before you. It’s dark, a few candles barely lightening everything. You beg for help, pound your fists against the glass. The person steps closer, close enough for the candles to illuminate their face. You’re confused but also relieved when you see Sasori. Casual clothes are changed with a fine suit, a wine glass in his hand as he musters you instead of helping you. This continues for a while where you start feeling the lack of oxygen before a sigh leaves his lips. This won’t do. You just wouldn’t look as pretty as you are now if you’d be a doll. One snip of his fingers and the box around you disappears as you collapse on the ground, gasping for air. You manage to look up at him, asking him shakily who or what he is. He shakes his head softly. Such a naïve thing. You still haven’t realized? One flash of his fangs is all the realization you need.

🦂You’re kept in this castle of his after, Sasori still confused what to do with you now. He can’t transform you into a puppet but doesn’t want to let you go either. You’re too much of a gem. To your horror you notice that all the servants are puppets to which Sasori explains that they were once human before he changed them. Puppets are much more efficient. They don’t get tired and don’t annoy him with stupid questions. The vampire still takes care of you but it has enhanced now that he’s returned to his place. All your old clothes are thrown away as he insists you to wear the finer clothes he has. You get all sorts of soap and lotions and take meals with him. He just watches you though, occasionally taking a sip from his glass of blood. He styles you himself if he feels like it, using different accessories for your hair and even using makeup on you if he thinks that it will suit your beauty. He hasn’t sucked your blood so far, you’re almost thankful for that but he still keeps you so you don’t want to be relieved just yet. You don’t know what he plans to do.

🦂He treats you like a human doll, keeps you clean and pretty for his own eyes. On that particular night he insists on a little dance in one of the rooms and is over the top enough to even let a few puppets, in their human times musicians, play instruments. You can’t look at those dolls which Sasori scolds you for as you still haven’t appreciated his art. He doesn’t rant about your ignorance too long though as he just enjoys the dance he has with you, swirling you around. You follow his lead silently, too afraid to do anything else. You’ve had bad experiences since he isn’t a patient person when it comes to you being a brat. You look at the floor to avoid looking into his eyes until you feel him pulling your arm closer to his face. You would have stopped moving but it’s like your limbs are being moved by something, forcing you to move along, even as Sasori’s fangs pierce your hand wrist. Your cry adds somehow beautifully to the music playing as Sasori consumes your blood for the first time, sighing blissfully as he pulls away. As he expected, even your blood tastes divine. He found perfection in you, he’s sure as a vampire you’d look absolutely ethereal.

Itachi Uchiha

🍡Itachi was never meant to have a long life in the first place. Diagnosed with heart problems and dysfunctional organs, every doctor told him that he most likely wouldn’t even reach his late twenties. His whole family desperately searched for a cure but Itachi accepted the grim reality at one point and decided to enjoy the short life he would have. Sadly he had caught the eye of a vampire at that time who was unwilling to let someone as attractive and talented as him die. As a vampire he’d surely blossom. They appeared before him during one of his sick and fragile phases, at that time Itachi thought that he was suffering from a fever dream. Only when he felt sharp teeth sinking in his arm and a burning pain washing all previous agony away did he realize that this was real. After having nearly attacked his own family out of hunger, he fled. Decades of isolation and wandering around until he eventually settled in a forest. Itachi refuses to feed from humans, hunts mostly animals down. Only in rare cases drinks he human blood and those people are mostly bandits and criminals. The region tends to be dangerous due to many rogues and thieves after all.

🍡People in your village love the gossip of the mysterious forest spirit some people have claimed to see throughout the years. A beautiful man with long, black hair. You don’t really believe in ghost stories but even some older people confirm that they’ve seen the same man so that awakes your curiosity. You decide to set out in the forest to solve this mystery. You are aware that it’s risky with the wild animals and possible bandits but you are determined. The first few weeks, you spot nothing unusual but love the nature nevertheless. You’re unaware that this so called forest spirit has long since noticed you and observes you carefully. You aren’t the first one who has done this but you’re the first one who has lasted that long. Others gave up and returned, although that may be because by now you’ve started exploring the forest in general. It’s somewhat endearing when you get all shinny-eyed when you discover deers, birds or a field of beautiful flowers. The forest is essentially Itachi’s home by now so he’s proud that you love it so much.

🍡The vampire stalks a lot with the excuse that he wants to make sure that nothing happens to you. That’s half of the truth, despite it’s beauty the forest can still pose quite a threat if you run into an agitated animal or rogues who want to rob you of your belongings. Deep down he knows that he just doesn’t want to be all alone anymore. It’s shameful that he’s gone to the point where watching a human makes him feel less lonely but he’s endured decades of no social interaction. He has to avoid you though, he knows the public opinion about vampires. You’d fear and hate him and he might hurt you. It’s not until one night where you stray away from the camp with the fire you set up and don’t find the way back that he goes near you for the first time. You only see him as a shadow standing in the distance, watching you before he starts walking away and you follow him, afraid to be left alone. You somehow are unable to catch up to him, the distance between you two never shortening. But before you know it, you see the light of your fire. You stop, starstruck, when you see a man standing in front of it. His beautiful features illuminated. Your eyes meet shortly, then he disappears.

🍡You’re searching for him the next few days intensely, the spirit of this forest but are unable to find him. You eventually give up, deduce that he probably won’t show his face to someone who looks for him as pestering as you do. You’re a bit sad but accept that. Out of gratitude for his help, you start carving the following days for hours with your blades little figures out of the wood and string them together as a bracelet. You just put it somewhere and leave only to check the next morning again to find out that it’s not there. Instead you find wristband made out entirely of flowers in it’s place and realize flattered that he prepared it for you. This little tradition continues as you sometimes wake up to find little gifts for you. You also deduce that the man is more comfortable around you when you start seeing him more. He never speaks to you but shows you hidden places you haven’t discovered yet, seemingly enjoying to show you around. You always notice that he’s wearing your bracelet and it makes you really happy.

🍡This special bond is strained when you one day stumble upon a road that leads through the deep forest after having heard noises. You realize too late that it’s a bunch of bandits who see you and instantly chase after you. You run back in the forest as fast as you can, for the first time terrified since entering this place. You trip when something hits you in your shoulder, causing pain to erupt as you let out a cry of agony. When you twist your head, you see an arrow stuck deep inside. You force yourself to stand up and continue to run, pulling on the arrow and letting out another scream of pain when you manage to get it out of your shoulder, blood seeping out. Where is the spirit? Is he currently not watching you? You know it isn’t his job to babysit you but you can’t help but cry for help when one of the bandits catches up to you and grabs you painfully by your wounded shoulder. You close your eyes and silently wait for the worst only to hear multiple shouts of shock and fear, accompanied by a vicious snarl as the arm is removed from you. When you turn around, you see Itachi standing protectively in front of you, the bandits staring at him with fear. Something is off.

🍡When he launches at the bunch, carelessly kicking the first one away with brutal force that instantly kills him, you see his face. His eyes are red, the normally calm and serene look in them turned into a wrathful and murderous flame. When he grabs one of them and suddenly bites into their neck, sharp fangs on display, comes your world crashing down on you as you finally see the truth. He’s a vampire and no spirit of the forest. You’re frozen out of shock, unable to avert your eyes as Itachi slaughters everyone and sucks their blood. He’s in a blood rush, eyes unfocused and hazy when he turns to you, chin covered in blood. Your scent penetrates his senses as he finds himself craving a taste of your sweet blood. You burst out in tears when he launches himself at you and forces you to tumble down with him on top of you. You feel his teeth about to sink into your skin when he suddenly stops, harshly breathing before he pulls back and bites down into his own arm, fangs tearing into his own flesh. He looks vulnerable in that moment but you don’t care, too afraid. You want to run but never get the chance as he’s swift to act, using his powers to make you go unconscious in his arms. His heart is in total turmoil but he doesn’t want to let you go.

Sasuke Uchiha

💙Revenge tends to blind you and causes you to lose sight of what is important. Sasuke knows better than anyone. He wanted so badly revenge for the murder of his family and was willing to go to the depths of hell for his goal. He trained relentlessly and pushed away all friends and people who cared for him. So when he one day got an offer from a vampire who promised him great power and strength, Sasuke didn’t hesitate. He endured the pain of transformation and had no problems adapting to his new thirst for blood. It was far easier to hunt down information now as he had gained special powers and only weeks later did he find them. Only that they were already at death’s door, an illness the cause. Sasuke was furious, it was unacceptable that they would die without paying the consequences. He visited them when they were alone at night only to find out the truth. His new powers allowed him to get to know what had really happened. They were innocent, the culprit was another who they had already avenged for Sasuke and his family since they had known the Uchiha very well. He had essentially given up his humanity for nothing. He was doomed to live lonely for eternity.

💙You’ve been a personal blood bag for a rowdy and sadistic vampire for years now and have given up hope completely. There is no life in your eyes anymore and you just comply with their every demand, endure all the pain and torture. When your owner gets into a conflict with another vampire crossing their territory, you hide from the scene. Your owner would only get angry if another vampire would discover you. You can’t help but think that they’re stupid since the man clearly has no interest in a conflict but they’re too arrogant to notice. When they touch him, the man warns them sternly once that he’ll kill them if they don’t let go. Obviously such a threat doesn’t sit well with your master who curses at them and grabs the man harshly by the collar. Within seconds they’re overpowered, a big gap in strength and experience as Sasuke rips the younger vampire apart. He warned them, it’s their fault. He then looks at your direction and tells you to come out, he’s long since noticed you. You’re a pitiful thing to look at, clothes torn and old, hair dirty and the smell of sickness following you. He knows why they kept you, you’re from rare blood. They didn’t take good care of you though.

💙Sasuke takes you with him after, seeing it as sort of naturally since he won so he gets what the other vampire wanted to hide from others. You’re silent when he tells you that you’re going to travel with him from now on but trail behind him nevertheless. You don’t know where your home is anyways and years of being alone with a sadistic vampire has dulled your social skills. You don’t have high expectations on your new vampire owner. He’s just keeping you for blood too. But you’re mildly surprised when you notice that he at least cares more for your own hygiene and health. He gets you new clothes, makes sure that you’re properly cleaned and tries to get you nutritious food. He’s sort of awkward so you guess that he hasn’t interacted with a human for a long time, much less has taken care of one. You gain a bit more health and your physical condition improves nevertheless. You are prepared when he wants to taste your blood, are a bit flabbergasted that he waited for you to be a bit more healthy again in the first place. Your previous owner never did that. You’re somewhat used to the pain although Sasuke gets quickly a bit rougher when your addicting blood hits his tastebuds.

💙He assumes your quiet and obedient behavior is a result of years of violation and abuse from the vampire who previously kept you. You’re somewhat dependent on Sasuke as you are unfamiliar with the world around you, you’ve mostly been caged for your life. He doesn’t mind, is actually pleased that you listen so well to him. Surprisingly enough Sasuke starts educating you when he finds out that you barely know the basics, a slightly sick feeling bubbling up in his stomach when he hears just how young you’ve been when you were taken. Would he have done the same? You barely speak and don’t seem to seem communication with others as necessarily important. You lack the experience and Sasuke himself has been alone for so long that he doesn’t know how to start a free conversation either, especially with you. You just hang around him and that seems to be enough for you. You surely are a bit strange, stare at him with those empty eyes and when he has to leave you alone, you wait patiently without moving from the spot. You used to spent days alone stuck after all.

💙You two are basically inseparable since you travel together. Months pass by, months where Sasuke senses a subtle change in you. You start opening up. Your emotions have been locked away for eternities to save you from a mental meltdown but under his care and the many travels you slowly learn to be a human who can feel something again. There is a spark of life in your eyes again, a childlike curiosity for the wonders around you. You get silently giddy when you see a river or butterflies. It would be almost ridiculous if Sasuke wouldn’t know of your circumstances and he allows you to wander around a bit and seek out a world you weren’t aware of. He knows that you won’t stray away, you’re too dependent for that and somehow it warms his own heart to see that you slowly recover. He himself has grown a weak spot for you, emotions piling up inside of him which he still struggles to adjust to. Falling in love with a human seemed ridiculous to him after becoming a vampire yet you surprised him. You’re only his.

💙You’re surprised when he asks you one day that question, shuffling closer to you, whilst you’re watching the fire burning brightly in front of you. “You only need me, right?” You look at him with your stoic face although there’s a spark of confusion in your eyes. Then you tilt your head slightly, a endearing habit you recently picked up. Then you just nod which causes a weird sensation to raise in his chest. You only have him after all. You don’t move when he leans closer, eyes half-lidded as he presses his lips against you. Experimental at first before he suddenly becomes harsher, grabs your head and pulls you closer as you feel sharp teeth sinking into your bottom lip, pulling slightly. The pain has you flinching shortly before you still, the taste of iron filling your mouth. His tongue flicks over your lips, taking in all of the divine blood he can get. He’s panting slightly when he pulls away, a genuine smile on his face. You’re such a good darling for him. He’ll treat you good, he promises. He’ll never let anything separate you, not even death. You’ll always be his.

Touya Todoroki

🔹Stories in the little village have it that in the old and burnt-down mansion in the forest lives the ghost of the oldest son of the family that used to resist in there. That’s the reason why no one dares to step anywhere near it, especially since people in the past started disappearing in the area around it. Some even tell that they’ve seen blue fire igniting out of nowhere at times. This so called ghost is in reality Touya, the son of the Todoroki family and only survivor after a terrible fire that occurred one night during the attack of a vampire. Every single one of his family was either killed by the vampire or was burnt to death. He suffered severe wounds at that time too, burning himself terribly and he was that close to death’s door if it wouldn’t have been for the vampire admiring the fact that despite all the injuries, he could still move. Out of some semblance of respect they decided to turn him but not even the advanced healing of a vampire could completely heal Touya as scars still stayed. It’s a bitter ironic of fate that his abilities as a vampire include controlling blue flames.

🔹You travel to the village because a acquaintance of yours told you about the old rumors. You have a thing for paranormal activities so you decide to pay a visit and investigate a bit. If you can catch a real ghost on camera, you’d be really happy. You believe in stuff such as ghosts and vampires and want to prove their existence to every friend of yours who doesn’t believe you. This isn’t the first time you’ve gone to a place where rumors exist but it’s the first time you’ve heard of such an old story. Not to mention that many of the villagers believe in it too so it’s the first time you’re surrounded by people who don’t make fun of you for thinking that things like ghosts and fairies exist. You’re still the crazy one as no one would ever dare to stay inside the mansion what is exactly your plan. It’s abandoned anyways and you don’t have a lot of money in your pockets so it’s easiest to just camp inside the old building. You have all your equipment and your food in cans so you’ll be fine. Everyone else in the village strongly objects, tells you that you’ll die.

🔹Most seem to give up when noticing your persistence and just label you as demented. You don’t mind though, you’ve heard that phrase for years now. You only plan to stay for a month where you’ll investigate and see if this place is worth observing permanently before traveling back home again. If you think that there really is something going on, you’ll have to plan for a more permanent stay in this village. To your luck the mansion is still intact which means that you have a roof over your head. Sure, it’s burnt, run-down and plants have started covering the structure but it’s still suitable. The first few days, you spend your time walking around, in awe. You can see the devastating traces of the fire and there’s a haunting sadness as you think about how this used to be once a house with a family. People died in the room you’re standing in and a house once filled with happy memories has now become a ghost house that everyone wants to stay away from. Because no one ever dared entering the house, many objects owned by the Todoroki’s are still here, although most of them burnt beyond recognition.

🔹Touya has by now accepted everything that happened, it’s been over a century after all. He’s finally managed to move away from the house, memories and grief having bound him to it for the first few years after his transformation. These days he’s often wandering around but comes a few times a year back to the place where his life began and also ended. He knows the gossip of the town but doesn’t give a shit. He’s stopped caring about humans for the biggest part, an eternal life has caused him to have empathy issues. He’s forgotten about love, the only things entertaining him now are his lust for blood and the thrill of seeing a human begging and crying when seeing him. He can’t go under humans with his skin and used to be quite insecure about it too. He still is but humans only see the monster in him. So he’s become the monster, it’s easier instead of fighting uselessly to prove that he has still human emotions. He travels back only to find a human resting in his house which baffles him a bit. You’re the first one in years.

🔹It’s amusing to watch you after he realizes that you chase for the supernatural. He’d like to think of you as silly with your equipment to measure paranormal activities but you aren’t wrong. He’s proof of your belief after all. He guesses that he can tolerate you since you respect his old home, he catches you often taking care of the run-down building as good as you can. At times you even silently pray for the dead family. He also loves when you become a bit frustrated because you haven’t seen anything yet. That’s when he decides to entertain you, during one night where you’re outside of the mansion, searching for anything, you nearly drop your torch when you see the blue flame. You get all excited which is adorable, Touya has to do it again to see you all giddy. You don’t leave the region surrounding the ruins so Touya can basically watch you all the time and he’s smug enough to admit that he loves that. He hasn’t bothered with humans in a long time but he doesn’t mind with you. Your weird fascination flatters him as you show even fascination in grotesque figures of literature and fantasy. That means you wouldn’t feel repulsed but his appearance, right?

🔹You’re convinced that it must be Touya, try to talk to him, even with a Ouija board. On the last day of your stay you hear noises inside the room that used to belong to Touya once and see him standing there when you come running inside. Your eyes widen and you stare at him in awe and utter fascination, no sign of fear. Your eyes wander over his scarred body, pity bubbling up inside your stomach. You step carefully closer to him, afraid he might disappear. When you stand right in front of him, you reach out to him shakily with both of your hands and he leans in closer, allows you that he’s really standing in front of you. Your hands are warm and you don’t pull away when feeling the marred skin of his. You tense up a bit when he leans his head on your shoulder, comforted by your reaction and touch. If he had still a beating heart, it would be in a frenzy right now. You hear him mumbling an apology, initial confusion replaced by pain when sharp teeth sink into your skin and you feel your blood being suck. A vampire. He’s a vampire. Your vision starts turning back when he pulls back, gives you a quick peck on your lips and tells you that he won’t hurt you. Your disappearance only amplifies the fear of the villagers.

#yandere naruto #yandere naruto shippuden #yandere pain #yandere sasori #yandere itachi #yandere itachi uchiha #yandere sasuke #yandere sasuke uchiha #yandere my hero academia #yandere mha #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere bnha #yandere dabi #yandere touya #yandere touya todoroki

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theartofdreaming1 · 3 years

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Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch are slowly becoming a proper team! No more secrets! (for the most part)

As usual, my thoughts regarding this week’s prompts and (many) random thoughts on chapters 4-6 are below the cut.

heart

Losing that comfort of sleeping in each other’s arms after the Victory Tour must have been hard for Katniss and Peeta! Up until Katniss hurts her ankle, they probably didn’t really do much about it, just trying to make it through on their own... After she hurt her ankle and Peeta’s spending more time over at her place, I can easily imagine him staying over, at least until she’s fallen asleep, which might help a little... Since they are living only three houses apart from each other, I like to imagine that they can see each other’s bedroom windows from their bedroom (how else would Katniss know that Peeta sleeps with the windows open? I can’t really imagine that they would be able to open the windows of the train they were on - y’know, for “safety reasons” (i.e. making sure nobody can escape)); maybe they’d both light a candle and put it by their window, as a signal they are going to sleep... It’s not the same, but it helps a little

mind

I mean, aside from the systemic rigging of the reaping system (i.e. poorer people generally having more entries, so they can have some food), I can easily imagine there being a manipulation of the “odds” when someone becomes too vocal or troublesome for the local authorities, such as someone trying to unionize a district’s workforce, for example

soul

In the districts, their impact has to be big - their win alone was a huge defiance of the Games as they used to be... sticking together and sticking up for each other ultimately led to them defeating the Capitol’s rules! In-between the Games and the Victory Tour I don’t think there was much noteworthy going on (although maybe the fact that, so far, none of the new victors’ loved ones had been hurt - Prim, Mrs. E., but also Gale and his family would be visible during the celebrations, I’m sure, same probably goes for the Mellark’s - might tell the people in the district that Snow and his cronies were aware of the attention any assassination attempt would gather and that this, in turn, might actually could become the last straw that would spark a revolution. In a way, that was proof that the people on top were at least a little afraid of what the people in the districts would do...) And then, especially during the visit of D11, with Katniss expressing her thanks and Peeta reaching out to share their winnings with the people from D11, another district than their own - it must have provided a lot of inspiration, I’m sure.

As for the Capitolites, maybe some of them would notice for once how unhappy/riled up the people in some of the districts were... or at least stop to think about how this time, a show of love and companionship actually provided more “entertainment” and intrigue than the brutal gore and bloodshed from previous Games (also, longer lasting - there is actually much more “story” to be had from the star-crossed lovers from D12 than from any individual winner of previous Games, if you think about it... Their “love story” is still on-going, with an upcoming wedding and the promise of a family... it’s still creepy and voyeuristic as hell, though)

Chapter 4

Everything he [Haymitch] said was true about the Capitol’s expectations, my future with Peeta, even his last comment. Of course, I could do a lot worse than Peeta. That isn’t really the point, though, is it? One of the few freedoms we have in District 12 is the right to marry who we want or not marry at all. And now even that has been taken away from me. - God, this sucks so much! As Katniss rightly points out, her misery isn’t about Peeta at all - it’s about her (and also his, just pointing that out) agency being taken away! She’s being stripped even of that little sliver of agency that inhabitants of D12 usually have (choice of whom to marry, or whether to marry at all)

I wonder if President Snow will insist we have children. - Eugh, just the idea of Snow being the one to have the last word on that subject... 🤢 The invasion of privacy here... - The only person who should get to decide whether Katniss should have children or not is Katniss herself! Period!

My mind searches frantically for a way out. I can’t let President Snow condemn me to this. Even if it means taking my own life. Before that, though, I’d try to run away. - Boy, Katniss is even contemplating taking her own life, rather than to submit to the life the Capitol wants to force on her; it’s not her first choice (she’d rather run away), but it shows the desperation she’s feeling

Could I even manage to take everyone I love with me, start a new life deep in the wild? Highly unlikely but not impossible. - Later we will see that Peeta and Haymitch also belong into the category of “people Katniss loves” 😊(as well as her family, Gale, and his fam, of course)

“And Peeta’s team is probably still asleep.” “Doesn’t he need prepping?” I ask. “Not the way you do,” Effie replies. What does this mean? It means I get to spend the morning having the hair ripped off my body while Peeta sleeps in. I hadn’t thought about it much, but in the arena at least some of the boys got to keep their body hair whereas none of the girls did. - Gotta love that everlasting sexism that, even far into the future, still won’t allow women to have frickin’ body hair (y’know, like most humans do 🙄)

I can remember Peeta’s now, as I bathed him by the stream. Very blond in the sunlight, once the mud and blood had been washed away. Only his face remained completely smooth. Not one of the boys grew a beard, and many were old enough to. I wonder what they did to them. - Katniss seems to have committed every single detail about Peeta to her memory, including how his body hair looked when she cleaned him in the last Games... okay 👀😏 On a more somber note, what is it that the Capitol is doing to these poor kids?! The boys couldn’t grow beards and - I’m assuming - the girls wouldn’t get their periods while in the arena (since the Games can last for weeks, it would be a huge disadvantage if any of the girls also had to content with cramps + periods - aside from worrying about getting murdered, I mean); it’s such a violation of one’s autonomy over one’s own body, yikes

Flavius tilts up my chin and sighs. “It’s a shame Cinna said no alterations on you.” “Yes, we could really make you something special,” says Octavia. “When she’s older,” says Venia almost grimly. “Then he’ll have to let us.” - Eeek, no thanks!😦 And frankly, it really shouldn’t be Cinna’s call to make but, y’know, Katniss’s!!! I don’t know, I get real panick-y just reading this exchange (I have never even gotten my ears pierced - my mom wouldn’t let them be pierced until I could make my own decision on that subject matter and as someone with skin issues and bad experiences with needles, I really don’t feel the need to have any unnecessary metal inserted into my body, so... I’m good)

His [Peeta’s] apology takes me by surprise. It’s true that Peeta froze me out after I confessed that my love for him during the Game was something of an act. But I don’t hold it against him. [...] “I’m sorry, too,” I say. [...] “There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. You were keeping us alive.” - That apology of Peeta’s... *chef’s kiss*; it was totally understandable that Peeta was upset and needed some time apart from Katniss after her confession, which had caught him completely by surprise, not even Katniss blames him for that... But his apology shows that he really made use of their time apart to work out his emotions and to reflect on both their situations - that’s some emotional maturity to be envious of! Plus, his apology is a good move to get their communication channel opened up again

It would be nice if he’d come to me with this earlier, before I knew that President Snow had other plans and just being friends was not an option for us anymore. But either way, I’m glad we’re speaking again. - Come on, Katniss, cut this boy some slack! He can’t read minds - how is he supposed to know about these things if you don’t tell him anything? It’s nice that you’re glad that you guys are on speaking terms again, but communication isn’t a one-way street, y’know?

I remember the tiger lily cookie and, now that Peeta is talking to me again, it’s all I can do not to recount the whole story about President Snow. But I know Haymitch wouldn’t want me to. I’d better stick to small talk. - Katniss really should have listened to her instincts here - Haymitch might have a better idea of how the Games/Capitol works, but he knows little about teamwork, which is an important factor in their specific (and unprecedented!) situation; I’m not blaming Katniss for relying on her mentor here, but this entire approach is going to crash and burn in the next chapter

It’s good to feel his fingers entwined with mine again, not for show but in actual friendship. We walk back to the train hand in hand. - Not to say that you can’t have friendships where you frequently hold hands - you totally can - but it is noteworthy that I don’t think I can recall Katniss holding hands with any of her other friends... (somehow, I can’t really picture Katniss holding hands with Gale casually like that... nor with Madge or Finnick later on)

At the door, I remember, “I’ve got to apologize to Effie first.” “Don’t be afraid to lay it on thick,” Peeta tells me.- There is something about this exchange that speaks to me... maybe because it reads like some sort of an inside joke between them? Or because it shows that, despite being on good terms with Effie, Peeta’s totally aware of how high-maintenance/over the top Effie is... I dunno ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Peeta has painted the Games. Some you wouldn’t get right away, if you hadn’t been with him in the arena yourself. Water dripping through the cracks in our cave. The dry pond bed. [...] Others any viewer would recognize. The golden horn called the Cornucopia. [...] And me. I am everywhere. [...] “What do you think?” he asks. “I hate them,” I say. I can almost smell the blood, the dirt, the unnatural breath of the mutt. - These are the pieces Peeta meant to exhibit in the Capitol, right? I wonder if he hoped that these paintings of his impressions/memories of the Games might actually connect with some Capitolites and might even move them to feel some empathy for the Tributes? Maybe he hoped that they would be more receptive for that kind of thing if he packaged it in art?

“All I do is go around trying to forget the arena and you’ve brought it back to life. How do you remember these things so exactly?” “I see them every night,” he says. [...] “Me too. Does it help? To paint them out?” “I don’t know. I think I’m a little less afraid of going to sleep at night, or I tell myself I am,” he says. “But they haven’t gone anywhere.” - I do wonder, whether and how painting out these moments could have therapeutic value for Peeta - on the one hand, the act of painting out specific intrusions/flashbacks might be helpful because he’d end up focusing on the more technical side of painting, y’know? Focussing on mixing the right shade of a certain color might help create some emotional distance from the moment itself... also, since painting usually takes some time, Peeta would actually spend a considerable amount of time facing these moments head on, rather than trying to avoid them (avoidance tends to increase the frequency of flashback/intrusions) and maybe spending so much time on them could also help him contextualize them within the broader narrative of his life, which is the basic principle behind Narrative Exposure Therapy, which is said to be pretty effective at treating PTSD... just my two cents

I can’t believe the size of District 11. “How many people do you think live here?” Peeta asks. I shake my head. In school they refer to it as a large district, that’s all. No actual figures on the population. - Perfect example of how tightly the Capitol controls the information the people in the districts have about the other districts... which is basically nothing. Let’s keep them in the dark so they are less likely to connect with each other and band together...

Cinna comes in with a pretty orange frock patterned with autumn leaves. I think how much Peeta will like the color. - Lol, Katniss bringing everything back to Peeta because she definitely hasn’t a crush on the guy, I see 😉

And then he [Peeta] hesitates before adding something that wasn’t written on the card. Maybe because he thought Effie might make him remove it. “It can in no way replace your losses, but as a token of our thanks we’d like for each of the tributes’ families from District Eleven to receive one month of our winnings every year for the duration of our lives.” - Peeta, the rebel! Talk about an act of radical kindness! I’m so proud of him. But also, I think this is another excellent example of how he and Katniss are on the same wavelength (this took me some time to find, but here you go): I silently say good-bye to Thresh and thank him for my life. I promise to remember him and, if I can, do something to help his family and Rue’s, if I win. (Ch. 23, THG)

I look at Peeta and he gives me a sad smile. I hear Haymitch’s voice. “You could do a lot worse.” At this moment, it’s impossible to imagine how I could do any better. The gift... it is perfect. So when I rise up on tiptoe to kiss him, it doesn’t seem forced at all. - Peeta: does anything that exemplifies his sense of morality; Katniss: *swoons* - but honestly, it is so beautiful how Katniss is so attracted to Peeta’s goodness and kind heart - it also tells us a lot about her (she is quite pure, as Peeta will point out later in this book) and what she values

“Wait, please.” I don’t know how to start, but once I do, the words rush from my lips as if they’ve been forming in the back of my mind for a long time. - And then Katniss launches into one of her spontaneous, heart-felt, and inspiring speeches/acts, expressing her thanks, sympathy, and a sense of kinship with people beyond the borders of her district, beyond the superficial barriers the Capitol has been trying to maintain in order to weaken the ‘common folk‘ and keep the exploitation going

The full impact of what I’ve done hits me. It was not intentional - I only meant to express my thanks - but I have elicited something dangerous. An act of dissent from the people of District 11. - Again, Katniss has done something that will solidify her as a symbol of the revolution without intending to do so and that’s the point, I think - she inspires people through her genuine displays of caring for others (which, in Panem, is already rebellious on its own)

Chapter 5

“We’re going!” says Peeta, shoving the Peacekeeper who’s pressing on me. “We get it, all right? Come on, Katniss.” His arm encircles me and guides me back into the Justice Building. - Protective Peeta! Also, I think it’s interesting to note the wording of Peeta’s arms “encircling” Katniss and then “guiding” her - his arms surround her, and he’s leading her away from harm (at least to the extent that is in his power - can’t really be safe from harm in Panem, can you?), but it doesn’t seem smothering or oppressive to Katniss in any way -”guide” has more of a connotation of giving direction without force, imo; in contrast, when Katniss talked about her kiss with Gale she mentions she’d never imagined how those hands [...] could as easily entrap me. (Ch. 2, CF); granted, these are two very different situations - the phrasing just stood out to me

“What happened?” Effie hurries over. “We lost the feed just after Katniss’s beautiful speech, and then Haymitch said he thought he heard gun fire, and I said it was ridiculous, but who knows? There are lunatics everywhere!” - Very telling how a clueless Capitolite like Effie wouldn’t register the rebellious aspect of Katniss’s speech; by keeping the Capitolites in the depths of sweet, sweet ignorance while simultaneously harshly trying to curb any spark of rebellion by cutting off the feed, the government is actually drawing the attention of the ignorant Capitolites to the act of rebellion itself (and also letting the people in the districts know that there was something censor-worthy going on); kind of shooting themselves in the foot here

As far as I know, Haymitch has only been here once, when he was on his Victory Tour decades ago. But he must have a remarkable memory or reliable instincts, because he leads us up through a maze of twisting staricases and increasingly narrow halls. [...] Eventually we climb a ladder to a trapdoor. When Haymitch pushes it aside, we find ourselves in the dome of the Justice Building. - I wonder how Haymitch has come to know this part of the Justice Building? Has he been to District 11 more often than Katniss supposes (he is friends with Chaff, after all), did his mentor take him there for some private conversation, or was there a moment during Haymitch’s Victory Tour where he felt so overwhelmed by feelings of guilt and powerlessness that he fled to the most desolate, solitary place he could find?

“I was supposed to fix things on this tour. [...] Calm things down. But obviously, all I’ve done today is get three people killed, and now everyone in the square will be punished.” I feel so sick that I have to sit down on a couch, despite the exposed springs and stuffing. - Obviously, all of this is awful and no one - especially a traumatized, 16-year old girl - should have to suffer carrying such a burden... But also, here we see one of the downsides of Katniss taking sole responsibility for everything - she totally forgot that Peeta might feel responsible too, only that he didn’t even know what’s at stake - which leads us to-

“Then I made things worse, too. By giving the money,” says Peeta. Suddenly he strikes out at a lamp that sits precariously on a crate and knocks it across the room, where it shatters against the floor. “This has to stop. Right now. This - this - game you two play, where you tell each other secrets but keep them from me like I’m too inconsequential or stupid or weak to handle them.”"It's not like that, Peeta-" I begin. "It's exactly like that!" he yells at me. - When kind, gentle Peeta’s mad, you know shit has hit the fan 😳 But also, being passed over/kept out of the loop seems to hit pretty close to home for Peeta (while I would like to know what his home life looked like before the Games, I have to admit that at this point, I’m somewhat afraid I might not be able to handle the truth...). I just think this scene is an important moment that leads to an end of (most of) their detrimental secrecy (hello end-of-CF-Haymitch!) and establishes their little team as such (hence the drawing)

“You’re always so reliably good, Peeta,” says Haymitch. “So smart about how you present yourself before the cameras. I didn’t want to disrupt that.” “Well, you overestimated me. Because I really screwed up today.” - Remember the last time someone overestimated Peeta (Foxface and the berries)? That ended in someone’s death as well... And, Haymitch? ‘Never assume’ applies to you, too!

“Do you think I gave them [Rue’s and Thresh’s families] a bright future? Because I think they’ll be lucky if they survive the day!” Peeta sends something else flying, a statue. I’ve never seen him like this. - Considering that his rebellious act of kindness is now threatening to become a sword of Damocles, hanging over those towards which he wanted to extend his kindness - simply because he’s been kept out of the loop (again)- Peeta’s anger is quite understandable

“Look, boy-” Haymitch begins. “Don’t bother, Haymitch. I know you had to choose one of us. And I’d have wanted it to be her. But this is something different. People are dead out there. More will follow unless we’re very good.” - Peeta doesn’t really care if it’s just his life on the line, but if other people’s lives are at risk? He takes no shit (it’s admirable in one way and deeply concerning in another); also, Peeta is right - while there still is a game to play, it’s not the Games, so different circumstances and rules apply

“From now on, you’ll be fully informed,” Haymitch promises. “I better be,” says Peeta. - Peeta generally is a very cooperative fellow, but don’t ever think he can’t be forceful and stand his ground when it matters!

“Did you choose me, Haymitch?” I ask. “Yeah,” he says. “Why? You like him better,” I say. “That’s true. But remember, until they changed the rules, I could only hope to get one of you out of there alive,” he says. “I thought since he was determined to protect you, well, between the three of us, we might be able to bring you home.” “Oh,” is all I can think to say. - This is such a quiet, sweet moment and also shows that Katniss, Haymitch and Peeta have been some sort of team from the start (also, in their team effort they actually managed to get the both of them back home!)

Everything is happening too fast for me to process it. The warning, the shootings, the recognition that I may have set something of great consequence in motion. The whole thing is so improbable. And it would be one thing if I had planned to stir things up, but given the circumstances... how on earth did I cause so much trouble? - Lol, you’re giving yourself a little too much credit here, Katniss ;) Frankly, the Capitol has been the one to create this powder-keg they are sitting on in the first place - all it needed was a little spark... All these injustices, the humilitation, the pain inflicted... it’s like an elastic rubber band that’s been stretched and stretched - until it snaps

“I’m something of an expert in architectural design, you know?” “Oh yes, I’ve heard that,” says Portia before the pause gets too long. - Bless Portia’s heart, making sure they avoid that awkward silence 😂

Effie looks so distressed that I spontaneously give her a hug. “That’s awful, Effie. Maybe we shouldn’t go to the dinner at all. At least until they’ve apologized.” - Aww, Katniss doing something nice for Effie!😊

Peeta and I join hands. “Haymitch says I was wrong to yell at you. You were only operating under his instructions,” says Peeta. “And it isn’t as if I haven’t kept things from you in the past.” - Peeta sorta apologizing, even acknowledging that he also had kept secrets from Katniss? We love to see it👍 - [...] “I think I broke a few things myself after that interview.” “Just an urn,” he says. - Peetaaa... stop diminishing your own physical injuries! Good thing that Katniss won’t let him: - “And your hands. There’s no point to it anymore though, is there? Not being straight with each other?” I say. “No point,” says Peeta. - Gasp! Honest, open communication as a good basis for a successful relationship? It’s more likely than you think!

“Was that really the only time you kissed Gale?” I’m so startled I answer. “Yes.” With all that has happened today, has that question actually been preying on him? - Peeta, you sly dog! Your priorities 😂

Some crowds have the weary-cattle feel that I know District 12 usually projects at the victors’ ceremonies. But in others - particularly 8, 4, and 3 - there is genuine elation in the faces of the people at the sight of us, and under the elation, fury. - I do think that it’s interesting how D4 is one of the districts being elated to see Peeta + Katniss and displaying such fury, despite being a Career district; just goes to show that, just because their odds are better at winning the Games, doesn’t have to make them more simpatico with the Capitol’s cruelty... (Considering how Finnick knows how to perform CPR, it’s highly likely that people in D4 are also used to awful and precarious working + living situations... maybe that’s exactly why they generally are so robust and do well in the Games; and maybe they are simply not that above joining the other Careers as long as it improves their chances of survival, like Katniss or Thresh had been... worked for a while for Peeta, too)

Effie starts giving me pills to sleep, but they don’t work. [...] Peeta, who spends much of the night roaming the train, hears me screaming as I struggle to break out of the haze of drugs that merely prolong the horrible dreams. He manages to wake me and calm me down. Then he climbs into bed to hold me until I fall back to sleep. After that, I refuse the pills. But every night I let him into my bed. We manage the darkness as we did in the arena, wrapped in each other’s arms. - 😭 Also: Very telling how Capitolite Effie just throws pills at the problem (with the best of intentions, I’m sure), which is an immediate, unpersonal, and superficial solution at best, whereas Peeta holding Katniss, offering comfort, understanding, a sense of safety, and human connection is so much more personal, intimate, and effective (for both of them!)

I personally killed the girl, Glimmer, and the boy from District 1. As I try to avoid looking at his family, I learn that his name was Marvel. How did I never know that? - You know why, Katniss - I suppose that before the Games I didn’t pay attention and afterward I didn’t want to know. - Still, not knowing his name didn’t stop you from humanizing him, Katniss, and that’s important, too

Whatever we do seems too little, too late. Back in our old quarters in the Training Center, I’m the one who suggests the public marriage proposal. Peeta agrees to do it but then disappears to his room for a long time. Haymitch tells me to leave him alone. “I thought he wanted it, anyway,” I say. “Not like this,” Haymitch says. “He wanted it to be real.” - Come on, Katniss, don’t be so callous; Peeta’s just as much of a prisoner here as you! Also, it’s all about being real or not real with these two, isn’t it?

Chapter 6

... you would think that at this moment, I would be in utter despair. Here’s what’s strange. The main thing I feel is a sense of relief. That I can give up this game. [...] That if desperate times call for desperate measures, then I am free to act as desperately as I wish. - Honestly, I think it was pretty short-sighted of Snow to let Katniss know so clearly that she didn’t succeed in her task; she did her utmost and it wasn’t enough - might as well fling caution to the wind now. All bets are off. If there had been still some small chance she could have ‘made things right’, she probably would have been trying harder to comply to his expectations. (I’m sure Snow thought the upcoming implementations of his stricter regime would be enough to keep Katniss in check, but pride comes before a fall ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

It’s essential to get back to District 12, because the main part of any plan will include my mother and sister, Gale and his family. And Peeta, If I can get him to come with us. I add Haymitch to the list. - For such a ‘loner’, Katniss sure has a lot of people that are important to her... And how ironic that Peeta, who she isn’t sure she’ll be able to convince in following her will be a much more willing participant that Gale, who Katniss is pretty much banking on joining her

“You’ll probably have to pass a new law,” I say with a giggle. “If that’s what it takes,” says the president with conspiratorial good humor. Oh the fun we two have together. - The dynamic between Snow and Katniss is so strange; despite the obvious antagonism there is definitely some vibe of interacting with each other at eye level and it’s weird (Sidenote: Is there any law in Panem preventing minors from marrying?)

“I want to taste everything in the room, “ I tell Peeta. [...] “Then you’d better pace yourself,” he says. “Okay, not more than one bite of each dish,” I say. My resolve is almost immediately broken at the first table, which has twenty or so soups - couldn’t have happened to me; I hate soup (like, thick soups I maaaybe can get behind, but clear soup/broth is just flavored water to me, no thanks - then again, I’m a picky eater)

Peeta and I make no effort to find company but are constantly sought out. We are what no one wants to miss at the party. I act delighted, but I have zero interest in these Capitol people. They are only distractions from the food. - Well isn’t that a mood for every social gathering ever (one person I enjoy talking to and lots of food I like? Perfect.)

I pick up a small roasted bird, bite into it, and my tongue floods with orange sauce. Delicious. But I make Peeta eat the remainder because I want to keep tasting things - Katniss seems to like the combination of meat and fruit, huh? (the lamb and plums, now bird and orange sauce) Personally, it’s a combination that’s on thin ice for me; there are only a few dishes with that component I actually like and it took me forever to tolerate them (I don’t know if it’s the texture or the taste, but something makes me apprehensive about it); anyway, Katniss making Peeta eat the rest is such a casual, couple-y thing to do (or at least something you do with someone you feel very comfortable with, I think)

Peeta looks at the glass again and puts it together. “You mean this will make me puke?” My prep team laughs hysterically. “Of course, so you can keep eating,” says Octavia. “I’ve been in there twice already. Everyone does it, or else how would you have any fun at a feast?” I’m speechless, staring at the pretty little glasses and all they imply. - Oh boy, I have a lot of thoughts on this part: A) I just noticed how this is the second delicate/fancy glass/drink that’s bringing about a jarring revelation: first that orange juice with the frilly straw in THG, now these tiny wine-stemmed glasses, B) “Everyone does it” + “how else would you have fun?” are the shittiest reasons I’ve ever heard at a party for doing something stupid you probably don’t want to do (I’m having flashbacks to all the times I had people trying to pressure me into drinking alcohol as a teen - it was even legal, btw - although I insisted that I didn’t like the taste (which I still don’t, to this day); it was tiresome 😑), C) “everyone does it” - the people in the Capitol must have some messed up teeth if that’s a regular occurence (sure, they probably bleach their teeth all the time, but also... they’d really need to, D) the obvious: how effed up that they just puke to stuff in more food when in the districts people literally are dying from starvation?! (and yeah, unequal distribution of resources sadly isn’t just a thing in Panem, I know... but there is something about actively purging yourself just for funsies that’s just extra, well, sick)

All I can think of is the emaciated bodies of the children on our kitchen table as my mother prescribes what the parents cannot give. More food. - God, how awful! How powerless they must feel 😟

And here in the Capitol they’re vomiting for the pleasure of filling their bellies again and again. Not from some illness of body or mind, not from spoiled food. - Ooh, I’ve never noticed before how this passage not only recognizes physical reasons for purging, but also mental reasons! Wouldn’t have necessarily expected Katniss to acknowledge eating disorders like that, tbh... She has become a lot more cognizant and sensitive when mental health issues are concerned

One day when I dropped by to give Hazelle the game, Vick was home sick with a bad cough [...] he still spent about fifteen minutes talking about how they’d opened a can of corn syrup from Parcel Day and each had a spoonful on bread and were going to maybe have more later in the week. How Hazelle had said he could have a bit in a cup of tea to soothe his cough, but he wouldln’t feel right unless the others had some, too. - Aww, Vick is such a sweetheart! Hazelle is raising her kids right!

“Peeta, they bring us here to fight to the death for their entertainment,”I say. “Really, this is nothing by comparison.” “I know. I know that. It’s just sometimes I can’t stand it anymore. To the point where... I’m not sure what I’ll do.” He pauses, then whispers, “Maybe we were wrong, Katniss.” “About what?” I ask. “About trying to subdue things in the districts,” he says. - Peeta’s rebellious nature coming through again!

“Sorry,” he says. He should be. This is no place to be voicing such thoughts. “Save it for home,” I tell him. - I know Katniss means D12, but her phrasing of “home” evokes a more domestic, couple-y connotation again 😊

I don’t want to dance with Plutarch Heavensbee. I don’t want to feel his hands, one resting against mine, one on my hip. I’m not used to being touched, except by Peeta or my family, and I rank Gamemakers somewhere below maggots in terms of creatures I want in contact with my skin. - It’s telling that, while Katniss is not big on being touched aside from her family (does that include Gale? probably? although they hadn’t even really hugged until Katniss had been reaped, so... I dunno), she’s totally fine with Peeta touching her (more than that: remember how good she felt holding his hand again in Ch.4 and how she’s feeling safe in his arms when they are sharing a bed), it says a lot about how comfortable she feels around him

Plutarch steps back and pulls out a gold watch on a chain from a vest pocket. He flips open the lid, sees the time, and frowns. “I’ll have to be going soon.” He turns the watch so I can see the face. “It starts at midnight.” - Honestly, this very subtle hint/foreshadowing of the clock setup of the Quarter Quell arena is simply brilliant! And also, midnight is going to become an important point in time as well from here on out (lightning tree, in the hanging tree song, saving Peeta and the others from the Training Center in the Capitol)

It’s another mockingjay. Exactly like the pin on my dress. Only this one disappears. He snaps the watch closed. “That’s very pretty,” I say. “Oh, it’s more than pretty. It’s one of a kind,” he says. - The disappearing mockingjay on the clock is interesting because A) Plutarch can’t really be flaunting the symbol of rebellion as Head Gamemaker, duh, but also B) the clock arena will be the place where the Mockingjay will disappear (until the rebellion will be able to use her for their cause); and that last comment by Plutarch clearly is aimed at the Mockingjay (Katniss) herself

When I open my eyes, it’s early afternoon. My head rests on Peeta’s arm. I don’t remember him coming in last night. - Okay, Katniss must feel hella safe and used to Peeta joining her in her bed, because apparently she didn’t even wake up when he did, like... I’m a fairly heavy sleeper, but I can’t imagine sleeping so deeply that I wouldn’t jerk awake if someone crawled into my bed while I was snoozing

“No nightmare,” he says. “What?” I ask. “You didn’t have any nightmares last night,” he says. He’s right. For the first time in ages I’ve slept through the night. - Telling how the first time Katniss sleeps through the night is after Snow let her know her performance wasn’t enough; she’s must have been so tense and on edge, desperately trying to calm down the districts and convince Snow, that she hadn’t been able to sleep properly, aside from the obvious sleeping issues she’d have from the PTSD (I’m often that way before an important exam - especially if it’s an oral exam; I get tense just thinking about it 😓)

“I had a dream, though,” I say, thinking back. “I was following a mockingjay though the woods. For a long time. It was Rue, really. I mean, when it sang, it had her voice.” “Where did she take you?” he says, brushing my hair off my forehead. “I don’t know. We never arrived,” I say. “But I felt happy.” - Interesting how in Katniss’s dream, the mockingjay is Rue - lending further credence to the hypothesis that maybe Rue was originally meant to be the Mockingjay (would make Plutarch’s comment of the mockingjay being “one of a kind” a bit more hypocritical/exaggerated/dramatized, which still fits with his flair for propaganda/showmanship... and ultimately, Katniss as the Mockingjay was unique, but that doesn’t mean that the rebellion couldn’t have made someone else their symbol if they needed to); also, Peeta brushing Katniss’s hair off her forehead is so sweet and intimate 😊

After I got home, we [Madge and I] started spending time together. [...] It was a little awkward at first because we didn’t know what to do. Other girls our age, I’ve heard them talking about boys, or other girls, or clothes. Madge and I aren’t gossipy and clothes bore me to tears. But after a few false starts, I realized she was dying to go into the woods, so I’ve taken her a couple of times and showed her how to shoot. She’s trying to teach me the piano, but mostly I like to listen to her play. - Honestly? I’d love to read a fanfic about Katniss and Madge figuring out their friendship (let me know if there already are some!); it’s cute how they end up including each other in their hobbies 😊 Ah, the classic “I’m/We’re not like other girls”, which often is especially prevalent during your teen years (I’d be lying if I said that I haven’t been gulty of this in my past 😅)... Katniss might actually would have benefited from talking with Madge about her boys’ troubles, though... And it’s so funny how Katniss admits that she has no interest in clothes, despite it being her supposed “talent”, while she also admits that she does admire Cinna’s work

... there’s a mob scene. The square’s packed with screaming people, their faces hidden with rags and homemade masks, throwing bricks. Building burn. Peacekeepers shoot into the crowd, killing at random. I’ve never seen anything like it - I... I have. At least on tv... In different places, at different times, but... yeah...

#thgagain #thg #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #haymitch abernathy #everlark #thg meta #my sketches and drawings #honestly there were so many scenes in these 3 chapter that I wanted to draw... but I barely had the time for these 2 #Catching Fire is just chock-full with interesting/important moments... my book is more post-it notes than pages at this point

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meltwonu · 4 years

Text

| 🎃 𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖍 🎃 |

↪ ✦ close your eyes ✦

this chapter pairing; sub!seokmin x vampire!reader

genre&warnings; vampire!reader, sub!seokmin, dacryphilia(crying kink baybeee)🥴, corruption kink kinda went brrr in this a little, lots of teasing, dirty talk, a little mutual masturbation, tiniest hint of orgasm denial, whiny needy seokmin, allusions to subspace.

he said:

notes; THE-- ☠️ I exposed my crying kink in sdpp so we out here living our best lives now 😗💖 also seokmin being a whiny baby and crying bc everything you do to him is new and just too much for him is so fuckin hot ☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️ HENNYWAYS, you guys!! I cant believe monster mash is almost at the end, how the hell?!? this went by so fast 😭💕 and thank you for all the love and support on each chapter! even when tumb1r seems to hate me!! Lol, and for those in SoCal, be safe! stay indoors if u can, wear a mask if u have to be outside! And stay hydrated!! I’ll see y’all tomorrow! 🎃 👻 💕

word count; ~2300

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - x - x - x - x - x

you take a drag, i take a sip;

i want your legendary kiss

you know i got designer taste;

and your design’s too good to waste

when the beast comes out at night;

yeah, it always wants a bite

and i try, try to resist;

but then the devil always wins.

Seokmin doesn’t believe in vampires.

He thinks Halloween is fun, but doesn’t believe in ghosts, demons or anything of the sort so he spends the night in; feet propped up on the coffee table as he watches another rerun of another vampire horror flick that he’d seen at least two times prior.

It’d been thankfully quiet for most of the night, despite the pouring rain and periodic thunder claps, but he enjoyed the way it added to the spooky atmosphere of the holiday.

Seokmin scoffs at the TV a few moments later, hand lodged deep in the bowl sitting in his lap. “Vampires aren’t even real.” He mutters.

“Says who?”

The bowl of popcorn in his lap is sent flying, and he acts quicker than he, himself, anticipates. “Who the fuck are you!? How did you get in here!?” His eyes dance over to the front door still locked and momentarily wonders if he left a window open.

He pales, realizing that it’d be impossible anyway.

Seokmin lived on the 17th floor of the building.

“Well!? Fuck---I’m---I’m gonna call the c-cops!” His shaky hands reach for his cell phone on the coffee table as you giggle.

You take a seat on his sofa, picking off a piece of discarded popcorn as you pop it into your mouth. “And tell them what? Exactly?”

“That there’s a psycho in my fuckin’ apartment and that you broke in!” Seokmin holds onto his phone a little tighter, palms clammy. He didn’t even hear the door open. You nod, pretending to think. “Oookay, so what are you gonna tell them when I do this?” You disappear in a puff of smoke and Seokmin feels like he’s going to throw up.

“Wh---”

“Boo!” You whisper from behind him, laughing when he runs roward and trips back onto the sofa. “What the fuck!?” His eyes show panic and confusion, shaky fingers letting go of the phone that was in his hand as it clatters to the floor.

“I--What are y-you? Please, don’t take my soul, it’s all I have left! I swear!”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from your throat, doubling over as he watches in fear. “Why are you laughing!?”

“I---you--you’re a funny one!” You wipe a stray tear from your eye as you catch your breath. “No, I don’t want your soul, I just want something to eat, that’s all~”

Seokmin’s eyes only read confusion when he stares back at you. “You want… food?”

“Mmhmm~”

You smile wide and Seokmin finally understands.

Ah. That kind.

He doesn’t know why he agrees.

Maybe it’s in his kind and innocent nature to believe you won’t suck him dry like a caprisun, but he agrees.

Maybe part of it is curiosity too and maybe part of him feels bad that maybe you haven’t fed in a while, but he introduces himself after you do and he finds himself trusting you a little bit more.

He’s not totally sure why.

“So----So how does this work, do I just---” He cuts himself off as he shakily turns his head to the side. “Wait, how do I know this isn’t a Halloween prank?! Did Jeonghan put you up to this?”

“Oh! Jeonghan, you know him?”

Seokmin’s eyes almost fall out of his skull. This couldn’t be happening. “Are we talking about the same Jeonghan? Yoon Jeonghan?”

“Yeah, lanky guy with brown hair, right? Super lethargic?”

Yep. That was Jeonghan.

Seokmin nods slowly, still a little perplexed. “So, why do you know him exactly? He hasn’t replied to my texts for the last three days... You didn’t... do something to him, did you?” You sit next to Seokmin on the sofa and he flinches almost immediately; scooting over a little more to put some space in between you two.

He wouldn’t admit it right now, but he thought you were really pretty.

“Um, no. He’s out of town and maybe just ignoring you but he lets me feed sometimes, y’know, when he is around. Maybe that’s why I was drawn here, y’know? Familiarity.” Damn.

Seokmin does feel a little bad now; for himself and for you. He bites his lip as the heat rushes to his face. “How---how do you usually, um, d-do it with Jeonghan?” The heat rushes down his body at the same time at his unintentional innuendo. “I mean, no! Not---not that, I meant how you feed! Fuck, sorry!”

Grinning, you’re quick to make your move as you push Seokmin down onto the sofa and straddle his waist.

“Wh--”

The words are caught in his throat as he watches you lean over to the coffee table to pluck out a lollipop from the bowl of candy. You unwrap it, licking it once before you bring it down towards his lips. He shakily parts them, welcoming the cherry flavoured candy into his mouth.

“You see, Seokmin,” You start, hands already roaming down his torso as he moans around the candy. “When people think of vampires, they think vampires just feed whenever, right? Just a quick bite here and they’re done.” He nods. “But that’s no fun~ So some of us like to play a little first, y’know? Get the blood rushing~”

You cup him through his sweats as he whines and he’s quick to thrust his hips up into your touch before he can even think properly.

Oh, fuck! Don’t do that! He tells himself.

A giggle from you is all it takes for him to blush even harder. “It’s okay, Seokmin. I want you to feel good too. Don’t you wanna feel good?”

“Y-yeah… O-okay…” His voice is muffled slightly from the candy still in his mouth, but he allows himself to lean into your touch. In truth, he was a little scared and a little nervous and he knew you could tell.

“Have you ever done anything… with restraints? Or things like orgasm denial?” You pluck the lollipop from his mouth; a thread of spit connecting it to his lips before you bring it to your own mouth. You quickly bite down on the hard candy, breaking it down into small pieces before swallowing. Seokmin grimaces a little.

“Um…” He’d never even heard of orgasm denial before, much less even had a thought about restraints. “...No. I--I’ve only… um… done it twice...”

You grin down at him, eyes flashing red. “Oh, Seokmin… you have so much to learn.”

You like shy Seokmin.

Maybe even a little too much.

“A-ah, no… no more t-teasing, I--ah!” He lets out a choked sob, hips thrusting up as you continue to tease the head of his cock. You move frustratingly slow and you don’t even bother to wrap your whole hand around him, instead just rubbing your palm across the tip as the tears pool up in his eyes.

“I--I don’t---mmh!” Seokmin bites his lip. He’s never felt quite like this before and the feeling was good, but unfamiliar.

“Don’t even think of cumming either~”

“But--” He chokes up again, except this time he can’t stop the tear that slides down the side of his face. You smile down at him, licking your lips.

“You’re so cute when you cry~ So pretty~” You pity him a little so you wrap your hand around his cock, working your hand up and down his shaft as he lets out a shaky breath. He’s unsure of where to put his hands, so he keeps them crossed over his chest, sweater paws keeping his clammy palms contained as he watches you.

“I--p--please, can I c-cum?” He whispers, voice small and slurred. “Nope~”

He lets out a small sob as he tries to blink away the tears.

When you feel him getting close, you pull your hand off of him; easing off of his lap and to the other side of the sofa. Seokmin watches in confusion, sitting up slightly as he watches you slide your panties down your legs. You toss the material at him, laughing when it falls onto his cock.

“We’re gonna play a little game~” He watches with an open mouth as you spread your legs; gulping when you immediately run your precum covered fingers through your wet folds. “We’re gonna touch ourselves just like this, across from each other, and if you can hold off your orgasm for, oh let’s say, 10 more minutes? Then I’ll reward you.”

“And---and if I c-can’t?”

“If you can’t… Hmm~ Then I’ll have to bring my ropes next time~” You wink at him, fingers pinching your clit as you moan out loud. The noise is enough for Seokmin’s cock to twitch and he wraps a shaky hand around himself as he watches you touch yourself from across the sofa. He uses your panties too, covering them in the precum that leaks from the head of his cock.

It falls into relative silence as Seokmin bites into the neck of his sweater to keep in his high pitched whines and cries. He watches as you sink two fingers into your cunt and he sobs as he thrusts up into the his fist and your panties wrapped around his cock.

This is unfair, he thinks.

“Mmh Seokmin~ I’m already imagining your cock fucking into me so deep… Ah, my fingers just aren’t enough~” Teasingly, you curl and scissor your fingers inside of your tight warmth, genuinely imagining it’s Seokmin instead. He releases the sweater material from between his teeth, drool dripping from his lips and eyes pooling with tears ready to spill.

“Please, I, hic, I--I can’t h-hold off, hic, I need t-to, hah, c--cum… I--I can’t...”

In a flash, the air is knocked out of Seokmin’s lungs as his back hits the sofa and he’s staring up at the ceiling. His sticky fingers find purchase in the material of his sweater again as you crawl back into his lap. You pry off the soaking panties covering his cock, tossing them to the coffee table as he groans.

You wrap a hand around his leaking cock, moving your hand up and down a few times before you use your thumb and index finger to circle the base as you squeeze hard. “Just a whiny baby boy crying and begging to cum. So cute~”

He squirms underneath you as he tries to get you to do something but you hold steady, fingertips wrapped around the base of his cock to keep him from cumming. “Now now, Seokmin. I’ll let you cum. But you have to be patient~ If you cum without my permission, I’ll make you wait even longer~”

Seokmin nods feverishly, uncaring of what came after. You still hadn’t fed from him too and he could’ve cared less about that.

You let go of his cock as he releases a shaky breath and he watches through foggy eyes as you raise your body until you’re hovering just above his cock. You use your hand to position him right at your entrance and Seokmin lets out a sharp whine when you drop yourself down onto his cock in one fluid motion.

“A-ah, fuh--fuck!”

Your pussy is warm, wet and tight and Seokmin is really fighting a losing battle at this point.

He cries quietly, hips canting up to meet you bouncing in his lap.

“Mmh~ Seokminnie crying making me so fuckin’ wet~ Ah~ I’m gonna cum soon too~”

His head is fuzzy and every new sensation makes his body react in a way he never knew it could. The tears blur his vision but he can already feel his cock twitching and body tensing up slightly; a telltale sign that he was already close.

“I, hic, please…” He slurs out, already too far gone. His body felt weightless; a slight floating feeling overcoming him as he continued to fuck up into you.

Your eyes flash crimson and you pry one of his arms away from his clothed chest, pushing the sleeve back as you kiss his wrist.

“Okay Seokmin~ I want you to cum, baby boy. Let me feel your cock throbbing and filling me up with your warm cum~”

Seokmin could die and be happy, thank you’s rolling off of his tongue through choked cries as he finally lets himself go.

The pleasure washes over him after a few more swivels of your hips and he barely even registers the fact you’ve already sunk your fangs into his wrist, too lost in his own bliss.

You moan against his skin, drinking up just enough to get him lightheaded before you’re lapping up the wound.

Seokmin tasted extra sweet.

Licking your lips, you release his arm as it falls limp next to his body and you immediately bring your fingers down to your clit, rubbing harsh and quick circles on the nub to get yourself to cum.

“Oh, god, Seokmin!” You cry; walls fluttering around Seokmin’s overly sensitive cock as he whines and squirms underneath you.

You ride out your high, hips coming to a stop as you catch your breath above him. Seokmin, on the other hand, feels a little delirious and warm; fingertips twitching at his sides. “Ngh…” He whimpers, unable to even speak with how exhausted he felt.

You lift your hips, cum sliding down Seokmin’s cock as he groans in oversensitivity. “Ah~ Look at how much cum you spilled in me, Seokminnie~” His bleary eyes watch as you let the cum slide out of your pussy and right over his cock and he almost, almost hates the way his cock twitches as the sight.

Sitting back on his thighs, you watch him bask in his post-orgasm glow; smacking your lips as you reach for another lollipop from the coffee table. “So~ How did you like it?” You ask, a teasing lilt in your voice when you visibly see his cock twitch.

His throat feels dry, that’s all he knows.

Seokmin’s clammy palms slide back into his sweater paws, pressed tight against his chest again as he gently leans up. You can’t help but smirk at his appearance; puffy red eyes from crying and cheeks stained with drying tears with his cock still curving up to his abdomen covered in his own cum.

“I---s--so what’re you g-gonna teach m-me next…?”

#sub!seokmin #seokmin smut #dk smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #seokmin scenarios #seokmin imagines #dk imagines #dk scenarios #svt scenarios #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #sub!svt #sub!seventeen #monstermash!svt #dk #seokmin #sub!dk

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keelywolfe · 3 years

Text

FIC: The Rose and the Thorn: Chapter 19 (Mafia AU)

Summary: Rus is having a chance for a few regrets. Bad mistakes? Yeah, he's made a few.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Cherryberry, Mafia AU, Flower Shop AU, Violence, First Meetings, Attempted Sexual Assault

Warning: Heads up, let me add a warning here for attempted sexual assault and violence.

~*~~

Read Chapter 19 on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Rus came to with his head throbbing, feeling as if his skull had been stuffed full of cotton wool. The blanket under his mouth was soaked with his own drool, sticking clammy and cold to his face. With a grunt of effort, Rus tried to move and found he couldn’t. That quickly woke him up the rest of the way, that and the jangle of chains as struggled to get upright. Craning his neck, he looked up and down the length of his body to see the cuffs circling his wrists and ankles, each with its own chain fastened to a bedpost. He was still mostly dressed, he saw. His sweater was gone, but the button-up and trousers he’d been wearing were still in place, if horribly wrinkled. A small consolation that Rus clung to desperately, uncertain if he’d even know if anything had been done to him.

He had a vague, foggy memory of being carried, being moved, and burning hands moving over him but little else. No, that was wrong, he could remember more and didn’t want to, remembered Lilith and blood and fear, and might not know where exactly he was, but he knew who brought him here.

“no,” Rus whispered to himself, struggling harder, the restraints jangling with an almost cheery chime against the bedframe. “no, no, no.”

“You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep that up, little flower."

A terrifyingly familiar voice, one that carried with it its own memories of hurt and fear.

“don’t touch me!” Rus blurted hysterically, struggling harder despite the tearing pain in his wrists. “you stay away from me!”

All his struggles meant nothing, the cuffs allowed only enough give for him to lay on the bed, and he let out a weak sob as a hot hand settled on the small of his back, pinning him firmly back to the mattress.

“Darling, we haven’t even begun.” The bed shifted as Blaze sat down next to him and his hand slid up Rus’s spine in a mockery of soothing. “How well do you understand me?"

Rus could taste salt-sweetness, tears running back into his sockets and gathering nauseously at the back of his throat. That hand moved to the top of his skull, knuckles rapping against it painfully. “Answer me.”

“well enough,” Rus said dully. This was his own fault, he’d been warned, and even if Edge found him this time, who was to say what might happen between now and then.

“Better. This will go much easier on you if you’re obedient, precious.” That burning touch moved down to Rus’s face and he tried to jerk away instinctively, the chains holding him back. “Now, now, pet, calm yourself. If I only wanted to fuck you, I could have done it already, couldn’t I.” Those burning fingers skimmed lower, fondling his jaw. “Tempting, I’ll admit, such a pretty mouth. But why use force when you’ll be giving yourself to me willing?”

That confident assertion set off a spark, scorching a path of fury through Rus’s dull acceptance.

“Fuck you!” Rus spat. He twisted around to look at Blaze, truly seeing him for the first time. A fire Monster, he’d known that much, his flames the deep purple of an old ugly bruise and whatever passed for his eyes hidden behind sunglasses. His shirt was mostly unbuttoned, exposing more purple flames and leading a path down to his undone belt. A warning of things to come and Rus couldn’t help trying to struggle again, twisting fruitlessly against the restraints.

“Manners,” Blaze chided. “You’re so certain? You haven’t even heard the bargain yet.”

“I don’t care what it is!”

“No?” Blaze leaned in closer, flames crackling close to Rus’s audial canal. “What if I agreed to let up on Edge and Red? I’ve been toying with them for some time, you’re simply a shiny new game piece. I’d let them be, no more long nights worrying about when the next strike comes. They’d keep their silly little club and all their sluts would be safe.” He leaned in, his breath pouring over Rus like the heat of an opened oven. “I’ve heard you’re quite fond of those whores, hmm? Did my little kitty tell me true?”

Rus said nothing, squeezing his sockets tightly shut as he tried to keep the memories from pouring in. He couldn’t, could only think of Lilith, her pretty, confused face filling his mind’s eye as she fell to lie bleeding in the street, only to be replaced by Mona in the same way, hurt and dying. Sweet Mona who’d been kind to him from the start, tried so hard to help him, who was studying to be a nurse to help other people, their people.

But it was what Blaze said next that sent the rising uncertainty and fear in Rus’s soul boiling, a heat to match the Flame Monster’s own as he said, “Oh, there’s also your brother. Adorable little thing, isn’t he? To be honest, he’s a little more to my tastes.”

Rus jerked around as much as he could, craning his neck to glare that smug face. “you stay the fuck away from my brother!”

“Well, now, I can’t do that unless I get to stay the fuck with you. What do you say?” Two blistering hot fingers curled under his chin, hooking into his jaw and flames licked and curled painfully around his face. “Tik tok, precious, limited time only. You spread your legs so easily for Edge, what’s one more?”

He didn’t bother saying that he and Edge had never had sex, not really. There was no point; even if this Monster, this monster, believed him, it would only be more fuel for the fire of his hatred. He’d probably be fucking delighted to hear it, one more thing he could take from them, one more cruelty to inflict. There was only one bargain available, this one, right here and now. Rus wasn’t so foolish as to believe Blaze was telling the truth, but if it only kept him away from Blue, bought them a little time, what other option did he have?

Tears burned, nearly as hot as that touch, trickling down his face and hissing to stinging steam as they fell against Blaze’s hand. He couldn’t even turn away, Blaze forcing him to look up into that hated face as he whispered out, “deal.”

“What was that, precious?” Blaze smirked. “Speak up.”

“i said deal!” Rus snarled.

“Perfect.” He let go of Rus and stood, unzipping his fly. Rus closed his sockets before seeing what it revealed, forced himself not to flinch away. He wouldn’t give the bastard the satisfaction. “Now let’s see how good you suck cock to start.”

“don’t ever recall you bein’ much of a rapist. guess you learn somethin’ new every day.”

That unexpected voice seemed to come from nowhere at first, slowly solidifying by the door. Blaze whirled around, his flames crackling in loud astonishment and Rus craned his head to see, a feeble blossom of hope sprouted in his soul.

Red stood leaning against the doorjamb, hands in his trouser pockets and a smoldering cigar clenched in his jagged teeth. His eye lights were their own flames, deep red coals that matched his cold grin. “what’s the matter? don’t ya know how to greet an old friend?”

“How did you—” The question was bitten off so hard Rus could practically hear the click of nonexistent teeth over Blaze fumbling with his fly, fastening his trousers again with haste.

“eh, wasn’t too hard.” Red pushed off the wall and wandered closer, dusting off the front of his suit jacket with an absent flick of ringed fingers. “kid is wired up like a gyftmas tree, got little ornaments tucked all over in his clothes. figured you’d find a way to snag him eventually, so best to be prepared.” Rus’s sneakers were lying abandoned near the foot of the bed and Red nudged them with the toe of his shiny, expensive loafer. “you’re gettin’ soft, hothead, shoulda stripped him bare where you first took ‘im.”

Blaze crossed his arms over his chest, flames rising in a flickering dance the only sign of his agitation. “You’re assuming I didn’t want you to find me.”

“true,” Red allowed.

“I admit, I was expecting your brother. It’s so rare for you to come out and play these days.”

“well, now you’ve got me on the monopoly board, so let’s get this over with.” From that angle, Rus could hardly see Red, only from the chest down. Two gold buttons from his vest were visible and the broad chain strung across it, jewelry instead of restrains. Always that ridiculous extravagance, he thought with bitter, near hysterical amusement, even now. “you know, always had a little regret at leaving you behind that day, but, eh. can’t ask someone to choose them over their brother, can you.”

Blaze made a sound like hissing steam. “you left me to die!”

“sure did,” Red agreed, with such bald unapologetic blandness that Rus cringed into the blanket beneath him. “but that’s an ‘us’ problem.”

“You abandoned me!” Now Blaze was huffing like a bellows, his flames darkening nearly to black, lashing and crackling around him. “We came up from the gutters together and you left me behind like I was nothing, like I was ash to be scraped from your shoes!”

“you always were a fucking drama queen.” Red only puffed on his cigar, utterly calm, as if he were arguing with someone in the market over the last head of cabbage, and Rus could only listen with distant, dizzy surreality. Even his tears were drying, leaving behind itchy trails on his face. “turnin’ shit into a dust feud, like there ain’t enough people out there that want us dead? yeah, we did, dragged ourselves out, spitfire, and you shoulda already known by then that my bro always comes first.”

Blaze said nothing, but he took a step back when Red came closer. One of his hands shifted to hover over Rus and he could feel the banked heat even from the distance, a warning to them both.

Not that Red seemed to care. He didn’t seem to be paying any attention to Rus, his words were careful, slow, as if repeating important directions to one who was easily lost. “been letting you blow off steam for a while now. lost some merchandise here and there, you’d stick your fat fingers into one of our pies and we’d lose a payday. that was fine.” A step closer and Rus could see his face now, Red’s grin wolfishly wide. “‘preciate ya leavin’ the school and the daycare alone. was a bitch settin’ those up without getting’ our names tangled up in ‘em.”

“Harming children is for Humans.” Bitterly spat, someone who’d met Humans on their terms too many times already.

“ain’t that the truth,” Red agreed lazily, His voice changed then, that easiness ceasing as it vanished into bitter, bitten cold, “gotta say though, i ain’t too keen on you threatenin’ my bro or his little pet.”

“They aren’t children. You’re here for him, then.” His hand dropped, settling in the small of Rus’s back and he couldn’t bite back a whimper at the sudden, aching heat licking at his bones. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, you always were too concerned about those sluts of yours.”

“always were a sweet talker, fire crotch.” Red straightened briskly, tucking his hands back into his pockets. “time to get down to business. brought you somethin’ ya might want, thought you might consider makin’ a little swap.”

“How generous,” Blaze purred. The tension in him hadn’t eased, his flames still licking high, but he shifted like he’d found his footing. “You have nothing that I want, lover, not anymore.”

“no?” Red licked his teeth, his wet teeth gleaming in the lamplight. “not even a fresh supply of golden flower tea?”

Blaze went suddenly still, all that oozing smarm stilling into whispered astonishment. “You do not.”

“sure do.” Red pulled a hand from his pocket and dangled a small packet between two fingers. “fresh enough you can prolly smell it from there and plenty more where that came from.” He nodded in Rus’s direction, “only, he’s the direct line to it. you kill him, that’s it. supply begins and ends with the flower shop. you can have your fun with him if ya want but—” He shrugged, his broad shoulders rolling under his suit coat. “i ain’t about to tell ya how to do business, but if you want in, i don’t mind sharin’.” He licked his teeth again, his smile widening as it curled around a single word. “lover.”

Blaze rocked from foot to foot restlessly and even beneath the sunglasses, the shift of his gaze from the packet to Red’s grinning face was unmistakable. “The fuck you would!”

“the fuck i ain’t!” Red countered, “see, that’s the beauty of it. you know the value, dontcha. these rubes ain’t got a clue, not even my bro gets it, but you and me? sweetspark, you and i know the value of a buck, don’t we. an’ we definitely know the value of this.”

“You’re lying.” But the words were without heat, almost uncertain. Wanting to believe.

“you think i’d come here without proof.” Red opened the packet and poured a little into his palm. He blew across it, scattering dried petals into the air subtle scent of golden flowers filled the air. Rus could taste it, his mouth automatically watering at the familiar flavor. Golden flower tea was a palliative when he’d been growing up, Blue brewed it whenever Rus wasn’t feeling well, whether the sickness was one of the body or the soul. There was always a cup for them both on days their pop had been particularly cruel or drunk, soothing away the lingering hurts. To taste it now, here, was abhorrent.

Blaze spread his hands and the floating petals still hanging in the air disappeared in tiny flares in his palms, that familiar smell going burnt and bitter. “You left me.”

“yep, i did,” Red agreed, unapologetic. "shoulda known if the choice was between you and my bro, there ain't no choice. get that you’re pissed, have every right to be, but don't go blamin’ me for being exactly who ya always knew i was. now, if ya wanna let the flower shop go, then we’ve got a deal.”

“Do you swear it to me?” Blaze said. He didn’t look at Rus, neither of them did; he was nothing, only a pawn in their game. They were the major players, two kings on either side of a chess board, deciding who to sacrifice and who to spare.

“’course i do,” Red snorted, “you got my word, sweetspark. i promise ya.”

The two of them stood for a long, terrible moment in a heated tableau. Rus kept as still as possible, terrified of tipping the decision in the wrong direction. Then came the sound of a drawer sliding open, a painful, hot hand grabbing his wrist as a key slid into the lock. Blaze repeated it on each limb and Rus scrambled to sit up, nearly falling in his haste to get to Red.

“get your shoes on, flower shop,” Red told him, “wouldn’t wanna hurt your little tootsies before i take ya back to my bro.” Rus did as he was told, all but shoving his foot into his shoe as Red turned back to Blaze. “good to be doing business again with ya. we’ll work out the details, but first. shake on it like pals, yeah?”

He held out a hand and Blaze took it, but the sudden sound that came from Blaze made Rus jerk, looking up from his shoes to see Red using that grip to yank Blaze closer, down to his level. His sunglasses slipped down, exposing the hollows that passed for a fire Monster’s eyes gone wide, disbelieving. “You—”

The whisper died in a fall of dust scattering to the floor. Red only watched it fall in a dark, glittering cloud and the soul speared through with the sharpened bone still in his hand was the last to dissolve. No king, only another pawn taken from the board.

Red shook his head, tutting softly, and tossed the little packet of golden flowers onto the dustpile, the remaining petals scattering. “better luck next time, pal. least you went out with dollar signs dancin’ in your head.” He frowned at his dusty hand and pulled out a linen handkerchief that matched his shirt, wiping it off as he turned back to Rus. “normally woulda let one of my boys do it, but i guess i owed him that much, to take care a’ it personal-like.”

Rus couldn’t move, crouched there on the floor with one shoe on as he stared at Red with words clotting in his throat. “you…you…”

The wide slash of his grin only went wider. “go on, spit it out.”

“you killed him.” The last word broke on a sob.

"sure did," Red agreed. He looked at his cigar, his expression twisting in impatient disgust at the dust coating it. He tossed it aside and pulled out another, biting off the end and lighting it with a match struck on the bedpost. "hate to break a promise, too. been putting it off too long. kept hopin’ he’d get over it and sign back on, but he took it a lil’ too far.” Red shrugged. “eh, dogs are better anyway. loyal.”

He wandered past Rus towards the door, his voice floating back where Rus was still sitting with his shoe in his lap. “thanks for the help. knew he’d get his mitts on you eventually and lead the way to where he was holed up. didn’t figure on it goin’ that way, but it didn’t work out too bad, all things considered.” He turned back, one finger curling in a ‘come here’ gesture. “hurry up, kid, time to go.”

With one shoe still untied, Rus stumbled after him as Red led the way out of the room. They were in a large house of some sort, open and spacious where the Fell brothers’ home was all narrow hallways and mazes. No one tried to stop them as they made their way downstairs, every room echoing and empty, and Rus clung to the bannister to keep from falling. His mind still felt fuzzy and wrong, disbelieving, catching onto what Red had said minutes too late.

“you used me as bait?” A sob heaved out of Rus, helpless and wretched, followed by more, as if they’d been bottled up in his chest and now that the first escaped, they were bursting out like bubbles an opened bottle of soda.

"’course i fuckin’ did. you were a pain in the ass to boot, always takin’ off like ya did. made it harder to track whether you were just bein’ a shit or not.” Red paused on the landing impatiently as Rus tripped his way down. “knock it off with the waterworks, yer givin' me a headache."

Rus tried, hiccoughing painfully as he said, "he shot lilith."

"and she almost got you a fire dick up the ass for her troubles,” Red said. The raw crudeness made Rus wince, choking back his tears. “anyway, save the cryin’ for somethin’ important, she's fine. for now. all bandaged up and ready for a heap 'o regret for sellin’ you out."

"don't,” Rus blurted. “please. don't hurt her."

Red swung around to look at him and Rus couldn’t keep from flinching, stumbling back a step from that piercingly sharp gaze. "you defendin' her?"

"she didn't know how bad it was. she tried to stop him."

“regrettin’ after you fuck up don't mean you get off." Red started down the stairs again, but he sounded almost pensive as he said, "’course, she did get shot, that ain’t no summer picnic. i'll think about it."

Hardly soothing, but Rus nodded, relaxing a little as he wiped at his face with his sleeve, mumbling out, “thank you.

Red chuckled, low and rich with perverse humor. "heh, already thinkin' you won, kid? i ain’t as easy as my bro, said i’ll think about it.”

Outside was a long black car, expensive and indistinguishable. A Dog got out of the driver’s side and held open the door for them, Rus scrambling in after Red and sat on the seat opposite. The door wasn’t even closed when Red began rummaging through a little fridge, pulling out a clear crystal bottle of dark brown liquid. “here, have a drink. think you might need it.”

The entire bottle was probably more accurate, but it was better than nothing. Rus took the glass wordlessly, swallowing it all down in one gulp. He couldn’t hold back a grimace; the sharp burn of expensive whisky tried to wash away the taste of burnt golden flowers clinging inside his mouth, but it still lingered in his nasal cavity and he wondered dully if he’d ever be able to smell them again without remembering this moment.

Across from him, Red slumped back against the leather seat, sockets closed, his own glass dangling loosely from his broad fingers. His browbones were drawn together, a line of weariness between them and Rus suddenly wondered how long they’d been looking for him. There were no clocks in the backseat and the sun coming in through the tinted windows revealed nothing. Blue was probably hysterical and Rus couldn’t blame him, his own stupidity got him into trouble again, and Edge—

He didn’t want to think about Edge, not right now.

His mind refused to be blank, kept flittering about and Rus latched on to one of the questions lingering inside his skull, pointless and perfect for this moment. He held his own glass in both hands, the cool crystal slowly warming between them. “why was blaze so interested in golden flower tea?”

“that’s need to know, kid.” Red didn’t open his sockets as he took a sip from his glass.

“yeah, well, i need to know,” Rus said stubbornly. “you used me as bait, so tell me. why was he willing to let everything go over some stupid flowers?”

Those closed sockets slit open, the barest gleam of crimson gazing out at him. “heh. you think i owe you somethin’, flower shop?” Rus said nothing, afraid of agreeing, and Red’s sharp grin widened. “learnin’ how to be careful of those debts, huh. good for you.” He shifted in his seat, loosening his tie as he sighed. “but you got a point. okay, flower shop, here's the deal. see, most monsters and humans get a little relaxed with it, s’all. probably a strong cup of chamomile’d have the same affect.”

“unless ya have lv. golden flower tea is pretty damn useful for monsters with lv.” That sharp smile twisted unpleasantly. “sweet thing like you don’t know what it’s like carryin’ around a lump of charcoal in your chest. feel it burnin’ ya from the inside out…”

For once, Red looked away from Rus first, stared pensively into the dark depths of his glass. “that tea helps, a fucking lot. only once we came to the surface it was hard to find. don’t grow easy around here, not without help.” Red tossed back the rest of his glass and poured another, whiskey slopping out around the lip, spattering the little bar. When he offered the bottle to Rus, he accepted it, pouring more into his own glass. “ain’t had any in ages. not ’til you turned up, flower shop, you and your brother.” He chuckled roughly and shook his head. “mother angel’s mercy, fuckin’ florists of all things.”

“i didn’t know,” Rus admitted, and now that he did, he wasn’t sure if he regretted asking.

Red shrugged. “that ain’t no surprise, you ain’t got any lv and your bro don’t have enough to make any difference.”

That idle statement made Rus jerk, spilling whiskey down the front of his shirt. “my brother has lv?” His voice seemed too small, confined in that backseat.

Red paused and a brief, bothered expression flitted across his face before it smoothed again. “like i said, not enough to make any difference.” He finished off the last of his glass, the silence filled with only the hum of the engine and the tires against the road. “anyway, that’s enough explanations for you. ya did me a favor helpin’ me get a lead on that old flame burnin’ up my ass. think i might owe ya a little extra for a rough time. so tell me, whaddya want?”

Outside the tinted windows, the real world blurred past them. The really real world, where the worst thing that ever happened was a rude barista might mess up your order or a Human might call an insult from the other side of the road, and Rus never hesitated. “i want to go home. i don’t belong in all this.”

“eh, that’s already on the table.” Red crushed out the stub of his current cigar and lit another, the burning smell from the match nearly making Rus heave. “what else you got?”

“that you leave my brother alone!”

Red exhaled a cloud of foul smoke and shook his head, “that’s ‘tween me and him. care for a third try before ya strike out?”

His empty glass thudded to the carpeted floor as Rus buried his face in his hands, trying to catch his breath. He should let it go, drop the pretense of ever balancing the sheet between them. He’d be back home soon, back to the shop and the normalcy, nothing but bouquets and daydreams, oh, the daydreams. There was one thing yet that he wanted with self-destructive desperation, and the words came out barely muffled by his bony fingers, clear and stark. “i want one night, with him. with your brother. no strings attached.”

“you think i can get you that, huh? well, honey, you hit the jackpot.” Through his fingers, he could see Red’s eye lights glittering, the deep, burning crimson of a devil or maybe a djinn from the stories Blue read to him as a child. Looking at them sent a shiver down Rus’s spine like a sin even as Red spoke, his voice rough and amused as he offered a single word.

“done.”

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #underfell sans #underfell grillby #mafia au

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dp-marvel94 · 3 years

Text

Face to Face- Chapter 31

Summary: When Danny went through the ghost catcher, he expected to be cured of the ghostliness that had haunted him since the accident, not to wake up on the lab floor with his parents saying he’d been overshadowed but everything’s back to normal now. But why does Danny Fenton cry himself to sleep to then dream of flying? Why does Phantom, the ghost who was supposedly possessing Danny remember a life that wasn’t his? Most of all, why do both the human and the ghost feel that something vital is missing, in their very soul? Or: Trying to cure himself of his powers one month after the accident, Danny accidentally splits himself but neither his ghost nor his human half know that that is what they did

First -> Last -> Next

Word Count: 3,730

Also on AO3 and Fanfiction.net

Fenton and Phantom couldn’t see through their tears, the water streaming down their faces obscuring their vision of the world around them. All shades of green, splashes of purple and drab brown rushed past as they flew. Their thoughts screamed with a haunting echo, coming back twice.

Mom….she wasn’t...she’s not sorry. She can’t...can’t accept Phantom. She doesn’t love me. But…. A sniffle broke through two throats, separated by dimensions yet somehow closer that ever. I can’t just pretend to be human for her. I can’t just be Fenton! Like the portal didn't... Like nothing happened...I can’t...I’m not the same!

Their bodies moved without conscious effort, the need to escape so large. Why did he do this? Why did he always run away?

Two voices that were one muttered. “This was….this was supposed to fix things. But...I messed it up!”

He kept running, kept flying. They didn’t know where they were going, just away. Away from all the things that kept hurting him.

Somewhere, far away voices were calling his name. “Danny!”

“Everything’s messed up! Why can’t anything ever go right for me?!” Hands gripped hair that was black. Or was is white? No, it was both but-

“Danny! What’s happening?” Someone called.

“Talking to Mom was supposed to fix things!” He cried.

“Danny! You’ve gotta look at us, man!”

A whine exited two throats. “But she’s never gonna accept me.”

“Danny! Fenton! Listen to us.” Fenton? Who was-

Hands appeared on their shoulders. No, on just one set of their shoulders but which-

“Fenton, you need to come back to us.”

Come back to… “Sam? Tucker?” He recognized the voices.

“Yeah. It’s us, dude.” “Come back to us.”

Come back? He needed to come back to- He blinked. And something snapped. Like a rubber band stretched too far, two components snapped back into place.

“Sam. Tucker.” Fenton frowned, clarity entering his vision. Or more like….his vision shifted away from what he’d been seeing before, from the swirling green clouds, floating purple doors, and hunks of rock in the Ghost Zone. His eyes widened. The Ghost Zone?! He was-

“Yeah man.” Tucker squeezed his shoulder. “Are you with us now?”

Numbly, Fenton nodded. “Yeah. I’m here.” His mouth felt dry.

“What happened?” Sam asked softly.

The boy swallowed. “I-”

Fenton! Something in him cried. Fear lashed out, threatening to pull him back inside himself. Where...where are you? Where am I? What’s happening?

“Phantom!” The human called, vision again starting to blur.

Hands gripped him more tightly. “Don’t you dare leave us again.”

“Sam. Tucker. No I’m…” He sucked in a breath. “Phantom. I’m still here. It’s-” Fenton felt pulled in two directions. He needed to be here, with his friends. He needed to tell them what was happening. But.... No, he needed to be with Phantom. He-

Cold crashed into him, stealing his breath. “Sam? Tucker?” Why did he sound surprised, like he was just now recognizing? Again, his...their lines blurred but in the wrong way.

“Focus!” Sam shook him. “Fenton! We need you to-”

“Why are you calling me Fenton?” Phantom asked through him...No Fenton asked...No…

Gasping, the human body pulling out of Sam’s grip. He leaned over, suddenly nauseous. “Why can’t I just be one person?!”

“Danny!” His friend grabbed his jumpsuit free arms again. “Whichever Danny you are, you need to tell us what’s happening.”

Another deep breath. Human eyes closed and the ghostly vision of the Zone opened up. Both heads shook. They needed to focus on Sam and Tucker but...being exposed in the Zone with their eyes closed would be bad. No, push the vision away, like it’s just an imagined day dream.

“My human body’s here in the real world with you and Tucker.”

Tucker and Sam frowned, but neither commented on the oddity at the beginning of the statement. Instead, the technogeek asked. “And the other you?”

“I’m….He’s….We’re….we’re in the ghost zone.”

“The ghost zone!” Sam exclaimed.

A nod. “Phantom tried to talk to Mom. It...uhh...it didn’t go well. So we ran off.”

Tucker blinked. “You ran off...to another dimension?”

“We panicked, okay! The portal...it was right there. And there was yelling and...I wasn’t thinking! Talking to Mom was supposed to help but... but now we’re lost somewhere in the freaking land of the dead!” The panic that their friends had managed to briefly calm flared, their breathing increasing into a pant. “I mean….we’d wanted to see the Ghost Zone, but not like this! And now Mom’s probably mad at us and I don’t know where I am!” Again, hands gripped black and white hair.

“Hey, it’s okay. Calm down.” Sam pleaded.

“Okay! Okay! I’m lost. I’m-”

“Danny.” Tucker interrupted. “Just take a breath, okay? See if you can figure out which direction you came from.”

“Yeah.” Sam agreed. “Try to go back the way you came. You couldn’t have flown that far.”

Another breath. “Yeah. Okay.” Both heads turned side to side, looking around. The human body stepped away from their friends, turning in a circle like someone looking for a recognizable landmark. “There? No…” He growled in annoyance. “Everything’s moving too fast.” They turned back towards Sam and Tucker, in the real world. Their breath puffed in front of them. Then blue and green eyes suddenly widened in panic as they flinched back. “Shit!”

Several things happened in quick succession. Their human vision blacked out as a rock the size of a minivan hurdled towards their ghost form. The ghost dodged, rapidly ascending. The human tried to copy the action, but being unable to fly, jumped up and then fell to the ground.

“Danny!” Sam and Tucker’s voices again came from far away, the sound traveling through their perception, along with the shock from hitting the ground.

But the feeling passed in a moment as more rocks flew towards them. They dodged and weaved, yelping as a small boulder clipped the edge of their tail. Where were these rocks coming from?!

Below, something growled. They looked down, eyes falling on a large, muscular figure with one eye in the center of its face. Another ghost! That must have been what set off their ghost sense. It roared, yelling something about staying away from its island. They didn’t need to be told twice.

Their ghostly form darted away in a blur, just thinking of escaping the attack. After no more than a minute, they slowed, eyes searching for a place to stop. There! A small, bare island, no more than a quarter of a football field. Near the center was a large boulder, leaning towards the side and forming a small sheltered space. They landed, praying it was empty. Whole body shaking with fear, they sunk to the ground, curling up inside the cave and pulling their lower half, which was still in the serpentine form of a ghostly tail to their chest. Their chest heaved with shaking breath as the tears renewed.

It wasn’t fair. They were lost and scared and tired. Some ghost just attacked them again and they were stranded on some random rock in the Ghost Zone. They shivered; everything around them was so cold but they were somehow too hot. Everything ached and they were starving because they were missing lunch and their knees hurt from when they fell. And...Wait-

A white haired head whipped up, nose wrinkling in confusion as the slight of their tail. They didn’t have knees right now, did they? But…..

Their stomach flopped with sudden nausea. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t right. Newly recognized sensations spark in their perception: the distant sound of Sam and Tucker’s voices, grass under a head, the throb of sore knees.

In the Zone, the ghost leaned forward, feeling sick. Something was wrong. It hurt. Everything hurt so much. Their skin was too tight; the core pulsed too slow and the heart beat too fast.

“Fenton? Phantom? Danny?” They asked, out into the now silent alien environment. Which one...which ones were they? Who were….who was he? He was...they were both or…. all three? Or something in the middle? Ghost or human? One person or two fragments? To his supreme distress, they couldn’t tell, mind overcome with confusion.

Danny, or someone who was almost Danny, pinched his eyes closed. This was...this wasn’t right. He wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He felt...he felt like a half reassembled puzzle, one that had been rapidly put together by randomly pushing the pieces together. Instead of the pieces interlocking and forming a complete picture, they were mismatched, the picture fuzzy, off, and disjointed. He...they hadn’t put themselves...himself back together correctly.

He sucked in a breath. He...they couldn’t do this, couldn’t be this right now. They...he needed Fenton and Phantom, needed to be Phantom and Fenton, but not at the same time. Not yet. They would...he would be back to himself soon but first….before the complete picture could be reformed, they needed to pull apart the mismatched puzzle pieces.

His humanity, the part of himself, themselves, that called himself Fenton pulled away. Tangled threads unraveled, the pain easing. Ghost and human separated, divided but still tethered together, even across dimensions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fenton slowly came back to awareness, his consciousness returning to his body. Voices buzzed above him.

“Should we get Jazz? Or call his parents?”

“We can’t do that, Tucker! Didn’t you hear? He had a fight with his Mom.”

“Well, we can’t just take him to the nurse, Sam!”

Sam? Tucker? They were fighting, but what about?

“I know that but-”

“You saw what happened! His eyes started glowing and he started muttering to himself and running away from us. We almost got him calm! Then he freaked out and passed out!”

Oh yeah, that. His eyes blinked open, squinting in the sunlight. He groaned.

That got Sam and Tucker’s attention. “Danny!” Both cried as they knelt down beside him.

“Are you back with us?” Sam asked, brow furrowed with concern.

Fenton nodded, sluggishly. “Yeah, I’m back.” His hands clenched and unclenched, grabbing fists full of grass. So he was on the ground. He glanced towards his feet, eyeing the grass stains on his jeans and his aching knees.

Tucker offered his hand. “Here, let me help you up.” The other boy accepted, half pulling, half pushing himself back into a sitting position. “So...which one are you?”

Blinking in confusion, Fenton turned his head to find his friends looking at him warily. After a moment, his mind caught up with the question. “I’m Fenton….just Fenton.” He frowned, rubbing his eyes. He pulled his hands away, eyeing the moisture on his fingers. Huh...so he had been crying.

“What was that?” Sam’s quiet question drew him out of his thoughts.

The human frowned, biting his lip. “I’m not… I’m not really sure.” He looked down at his hands. “It kinda felt like...we almost fused. But...it wasn’t right. We were confused and…” His voice quieted. “It hurt.”

The boy then glanced up, taking in his friends’ stricken looks. “Dude...are you okay?” Tucker asked, with wide, compassionate eyes.

Fenton shrugged. “Yeah...I think it was the whole two body thing but we’re sorted now.”

His friends traded concerned, skeptical looks and Sam’s eyebrow rose. The human Danny had no doubt; she wanted to press him right now for more explanation, to make sure he actually was okay. And the boy was grateful for her concern. In all honesty, he wasn’t okay. Between the horrible conversation with Mom, being lost in another dimension, and the confusing partial fusion, he was stressed and tired, to say the least. But they had bigger things to solve than his current emotional state.

Sam clearly recognized the same. “Okay.” She sighed, continuing with the conversation. “What was with you eating the dirt?”

The human boy looked down, cheeks reddening in embarrassment. “I..uh...forgot that I can’t fly as a human.” His friends both blinked bewilderedly. Then Tucker laughed and Sam snorted. Fenton’s blush intensified. “We were trying to dodge. Some ghost threw this huge rock at us so ghost me flew up to miss it. This me tried to copy but...” He motioned down his body. “This body can’t fly.”

With that, his friends’ more jovial expressions turned more serious. “I guess that makes sense.” Tucker finally said.

Then Sam nodded. “And Phantom, your ghost half? Where is he?”

Fenton’s frown deepened, his shoulders hanching as he pulled his knees to his chest. “Still in the Zone. We found an island to hang tight on. He should be safe... for now.”

There was a long pause as his friends looked at each other, a silent, worried conversation passing between them. Then Sam’s eyes focused back on Fenton’s face. “Can we talk to Phantom?”

The human blinked. “Why?”

Tucker’s lip turned down in a deepening frown. “We need to figure out how to get the other you home. So...can you let us talk to him?”

“Oh.” Fenton looked down, biting his lip. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” His voice quieted. “I don’t wanna get lost again.”

Sam’s expressions softened. “Okay.” To the human boy’s surprise and relief, she conceded, like she just might understand.

“Can he hear us, at least?” Tucker offered tentatively. “You don’t have to respond, just listen.”

“I don’t know-” Fenton started, equally tentatively, before his reply was interrupted by words in his head.

Fenton? Phantom asked softly.

The human furrowed his brow, eyes losing focus. Yeah? I’m here.

I can hear Sam and Tucker. He said, slightly nervously. I’ve been watching this whole time.

Fenton blinked in confusion. “You have?”

“Danny!” “Not again!” Again, Sam and Tucker’s hands were on his shoulders, eyes wide with concern.

The human boy shook his head. “Sorry. I’m fine. I was just talking to Phantom. Apparently he can hear you. So just...talk to me.”

His friends traded somewhat confused, somewhat exacerbated looks before pressing on. “Okay.” Tucker took a breath. “You need to try and find the portal.”

Fenton started shaking his head but Sam continued. “Just to retrace your steps, okay? Go back the way you came.” She squeezed his arms. “You can do this. You can. I believe in you, Danny Phantom.”

In the back of his mind, Fenton could feel his ghost self’s appreciation of the statement. The corner of his lips turned up in a slight smile. Then his mouth moved of its own volition, his voice echoing. “It’s really nice to hear that Sam but-”

“Dude, your eyes are glowing again.” Tucker cut in, brow furrowing with worry.

They were? His brow furrowed in thought, focusing on the cool burning feeling in his eyes. “Ah that makes sense.” Again, the words came out without his input or rather… “It’s me, Phantom.” With a slight push from his ghost, Fenton held up his hands. “It’s okay, guys. Fenton’s just letting me use his mouth.”

Sam raised a brow. “Because apparently you can do that?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “But anyway...I’m really happy you believe in me guys but...I have no idea where I am. We weren’t really paying attention after we...uh….ran off. And then that ghost was chucking rocks at us and we got turned around flying away.”

“There’s gotta be landmarks or something. Can you just figure out the direction you came from at least?” Tucker asked.

Under Phantom’s direction, Fenton shook his head. “Maybe?” He pursed his lips. “I really don’t want to just go flying off in one direction and just end up farther from the portal.”

The technogeek sighed. “Maybe we should get your parents? They might have some way to help you.”

In the Ghost Zone, Phantom sat, considering the idea. Fenton could distantly feel the ghost thinking, his own thoughts likely following the same pattern. As much as he didn’t want to get his parents’ help, that might be the best option. They could have Phantom sit tight where he was and get Mom and Dad’s assistance to find him. The human Danny then flinched, feeling his ghost self’s anxiety at the thought. Wait….feeling?

The idea hit him like a brick wall. “You don’t have to find the portal. You can find me.” The human Danny said, feeling the glow of his eyes dim. Across their connection, Fenton felt Phantom’s confusion. “Phantom, we’re still connected. There’s like...a line. A tether between us.” He motioned vaguely with his hands.

Understanding dawned as blue eyes again flashed green. “I can follow it back to you!” In the human world, Fenton’s voice echoed, his mouth stretching up into a smile. “That just might work.”

“It will.” The human reassured, mentally poking at the link. He could almost see it in his mind’s eyes, a metaphysical cord connecting the two parts of his mind. A cord he’d felt drawing him and his ghost self together, somehow pulling taut as the two moved closer, more in sync.

“Yeah. I’ll see you really soon.” Phantom replied.

Fenton grinned, his arms wrapping themselves around his chest. He looked down at himself. “Phantom? Are you trying to hug me?”

A blush rose on his face. “Yes.” His arms fell to his sides. “It’s weird talking to you like this.”

“You’re telling me.” The human said, slightly teasingly. “But seriously...you’ve got this.”

“Tucker and I agree.” Sam cut in. Her gaze, level with Fenton’s eyes, drew the boys’ attention. “You’ve got this.” She playfully punched Fenton’s arm. “Hurry up and get back to the land of the living.”

“Yeah man. I wanna see your ghostly self, in person.” The technogeek leaned forward to hug the boy in front of him. “Be careful, Danny.”

Fenton and Phantom both agreed to return the hug. “I will.” The ghost replied. “Thanks for calming me down guys...and just being here. I don’t know where we’d be if you guys hadn’t been with Fenton.”

“Of course.” Sam reassured. “We’re your friends, no matter what weird stuff you’re doing.”

For once, Fenton, nor his ghost half, shied away from word. They were weird. This situation was weird but they had friends who could roll with the punches.

“I’ll see you guys soon.” Phantom finally said, as Fenton pulled out of the hug. “I’ll let you guys go back to your lunch; I know Fenton’s hungry.”

As soon as he said that, the human’s stomach growled. An echoing laugh exited Fenton’s mouth, followed by chuckles from Sam and Tucker. The human shook his head, at his friends’ and his other self’s reactions.

His laughter stopped after a moment as Phantom’s directed his arm to wave. “Bye guys.”

With that, the ghostly light blinked out of his eyes, signaling Phantom’s retreat. Fenton also felt it, the ghost gently closing a mental door and leaving the human solidly alone in his body.

“Fenton?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. Phantom went off to try and find his way back.”

“Man.” Tucker shook his head. “So that’s what your internal dialogue sounds like.”

“Kinda.” The human boy shrugged. “Sorry, that was….it’s never been that...involved, me and Phantom interacting when we’re physically apart…. Being split’s done weird things to my mind.”

His friends of course looked at him with concern at the statement, but there was understanding and acceptance too. “I guess that would make sense.” Sam said.

“Like Sam and I said before, we’re here if you ever want to talk about any of that.” Tucker offered.

Fenton’s lip turned slightly up at the statement, bolstered by the promise of his friends’ support. “Maybe later. Right now I want some food.”

The technogeek laughed. “All right man.” He standed from his kneeling position before offering Fenton a hand up. “Let’s eat.”

The human boy accepted the help, wincing slightly at his bruised knees; he’d need to look at them later but it didn’t feel like they were hurt badly. Sam also stood and the three walked back to the secluded picnic table where they’d been eating lunch before Phantom’s argument with their mother drew him away. So it had turned out that eating outside, away from their classmates and teachers had been beneficial. And speaking of his mom….

His heart did clinch painfully at the memory of her words. He passively wondered; what was she doing right now? What was her reaction to what he said, to him running off? Everything had happened so fast and...briefly, a look of shock had flashed on her face, something that might even have been guilt. He hoped it was but...he could’t worry about that right now. His most important concern was getting his other half back from the ghost zone. After, they could deal with the situation together, like they should have from the beginning.

“Danny.” Sam said his name, capturing the boys’ attention. “Aren’t you going to eat? We’ve only got five minutes left.”

Fenton frowned. “Yeah. Right.” He stuffed a bit of his sandwich in his mouth. He’d worry about that later. For now, he’d eat his lunch, go to study hall, and hope- no trust- he’d trust that Phantom would get back safely.

Note: So this chapter was a little shorter what's typical for me. I ended up splitting it off from the next scene because that was over 6000 words alone and I thought the whole thing would be too long. But the good news is, that means the next chapter is done. I just have to find time to edit it with my beta. And I'm working on what will be chapter 33 now.

This also means this story won't be on hiatus as long. I'm planning on writing at least one story for the Phic Phight and a longer story Inviobang. I may do something for DannyMay was well? I really want to write another part for "It was an Accident, I swear" and the last story in my "Life and Death is all Perspective" series. But IDK. That depends on how fast I finish the other stuff and/or how much self control I have. Well al have to see what happens. Anyway, feel free to leave a comment as always and thank you so much for reading!

#Danny Phantom #Face To Face #Ghost Catcher #double danny #split danny #My fic

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 4 years

Text

Witcher of the Night (Chapter 16)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

UPDATES FOR WITCHER OF THE NIGHT WILL BE PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY NOW IN MY TIME (GMT +8)

CHAPTER 15.1

WITCHER OF THE NIGHT MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: A horny and insecure witcher decided to talk what his mind has been keeping; making you see how much of a man he was that was worth to choose and be chosen.

Warnings: NSFW 18+. (Yep. Again. Love it while it lasts, bb’s. Hehehe.) Some witcher in a rut. Finger sucking. Cream pie. Smut. Size kink. (I meant Geralt’s body build. LMAO *I base this story on the show. Not the game or books.*) an irritated bard? Ahehehehe. Nakedness? Geralt being soft and honest? (*screams*)

A/N: I was drained from the last chapter and I’ve taken a break. I was supposed to not update today due to it. I hope you can lend at least a minute to reblog or give me feedback, ghost readers out there! 💟 There ain’t no moments like this anymore because the plot will take its place on the next chapters! ENJOY WHILE IT LASTS!

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue!

Disclaimer: PNG’s and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi (GIF credits: littlechinesedoll)

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

GERALT OF RIVIA WAS IN A RUT.

You were sure he was after being fucked into oblivion by the witcher for countless of times already; taking a lot of orgasms in just about eight hours? He was lucky that he was a mutant. However, in your side? It was unfortunate because your stamina was weaker than his.

Your poor punani has been overworked and wrecked again. Lungs seem to be incapacitated, dangerously reaching the critical level for accepting Geralt's wishes; another round of ceaseless bliss in which you certainly didn't defy. Pants and wheezes were muddled against the mattress as you shoved your face on it, vigorously being burrowed from behind.

Here you thought; feeling mighty and confident that you could take and last for how long his enhanced self would.

Technically, you were wrong. Utterly wrong.

Was it round twenty-five already? Thirty? You may never know because every time Geralt finishes, his girth somehow magically becomes stone hard again like he never spilled himself inside you. If only he wasn't sterile, you were probably about to get pregnant with little witchers somehow based on how he always milks you in; like you were his pet, letting you take it good.

The white wolf's libido was overly developed as well. As you were told by the man, himself. He could go on for hours, days and even weeks, nailing you repeatedly until you have no energy to comprehend what was happening, and you were sure that his enhancement with the desires he had was a perk and also a disadvantage for your weak self who had her virginity taken just days ago.

Your sexual experiences are being expanded and learned by Geralt, not knowing before that you had a size kink of being choked in his own weight above yours, baptizing every nook and space in their home like animals in heat and being treated like you were such a fragile little thing before being corrupted; tainting your once chastised soul.

The witcher was a person who had given you a different outlook in life. Bringing you to a wonderland in the midst of being railed repeatedly; consistent with his rigorous, shameless pounding from the back. Brusque. Sharp. Perfect for the angle that hits the perfect spot, polishing your hole that has sent you ripples and waves of glory.

Geralt's moans were withdrawn, holding back those sounds of pleasure from ponderously watching his girth push and slither inside your heat. His mouth tightly shut and thick eyebrows scrunched in rapture. Aureate eyes intensely concentrated on his hard cock slowly drilling back, keeping his bulbous head in before slowly drawling back like he like watching you be filled with his girth; admiring how you were stretched around his hardened cock.

He'd felt your body intensely tremble beneath his.

Your knees were quivering with every plunge. Warm drizzles of your cunt leaking with a mixture of his fluid and yours together; like art combined with a color that creates a new one. The room smelled like sex and sweat with a scent of fresh grass because of how the windows were wide opened.

Nobody would see you both in such a debauched position, right? you've thought that when Geralt has lowered you down against the mattress, his weight crushing and pinning you down, quickly getting to his job; sticking his girth inside of you like he never would get tired of doing so after basically baptizing the hallway through the second floor.

Elbows began to feel sore. A desperate whine began to gurgle from your dry throat. Hand tightly grabbing onto one of his that laid on the curvatures of your hips, dragging you back to his swollen girth with every shove; filling you over and over like how you deserved because you've been a good girl. Every time he did, Geralt never misses the spot that could bring you into another restless, writhing orgasm.

The filthy sound of skin slapping on skin came with icherous slimy caresses of your nectar coating each other's carnal greed. Noise came with his bedpost hitting the wall like a maddened gorilla raging out of its cage, when all of a sudden; you've heard Kolby's strange bark that seem to come from the first floor, alarming you both that his family has already came back. Yet, here you were, splayed below the witcher and still getting driven to his extremes.

Geralt pulled his hand away from the bed post, leaving a print and a crack of his hand against the wood. His fingers slid through your dangling breasts, palms groping your teat as he began to knead onto it like a cat trying to suckle from his mother; claws out as he tweaked your sensitive nipple in one breast to the other. Simultaneously changing hands as he continued to reach you both to the edge of Nirvana.

Then, you've heard laughter and complaining downstairs.

"Geralt," you started with a mewl, your body being rocked from behind, the sheets thoroughly disheveled from your tiring day activities. His hand that fondled your teat trailed up your body; while the other glided down for what throbbing nub that was needed attention for another release.

His palm gently met your mouth when you've began to moan from his fingers touching your clit, rubbing and circling it the right, pleasuring way while he went on with his ceaseless ramming.

"Hnnng," you whimpered, voice muffled from his large, calloused hand that covered your mouth; hushing you from any noise that could echo out of the room.

The way he was manhandling you does it. From the moment he tried shushing you up, your heat began to clench around him. Your body squirming and thrashing under his skin. Weakened from the sudden action as it made you tremble; feeling the coil beginning to snap with just a few more jabs.

More thuds and unfathomable complaints echoed outside the room. With Jaskier finally knowing what caused the commotion that he somehow managed to be in. Geralt didn't seem to be bothered about the fact that their table has been wrecked; though, the bard might say otherwise.

His plowing slackened when you’ve felt him breath heavily from behind,

"Shhhh. Quiet down, midget." he clasped his palms tighter on your mewling mouth; hearing his breathless grunts above you was making you squirm in his hold. It didn't take you another lewd moan when Geralt's thick index and middle finger skid in between the pillows of your lips, an act of pacifying your noise down which has gotten an elicit of your juices flowing down your thighs, soaking you more than ever. But, you never did deliberate to suck on those fingers like how your mind has told you.

The smutty action was enough for him to briefly glance down at you, engrossed and captivated by a never expected bustles from his naive, greenhorn of a woman.

Another weakened moan was muffled beneath the palm that clasped your mouth. Your fingers trying to wrench his own away from slightly pinching on your sensitive clit, dragging you to where you wanted.

Neverland. Nirvana. Heaven. Where ever you could experience bliss.

Or basically Geralt's bed because you were currently being brought to the edge of the rainbows.

He was persistent and continued rubbing on your nub, his thick, long fingers thoroughly drenched from your arousal.

"Ugh---Hmm. fuck." the white haired witcher deeply grunted and moaned, his jutting hips bottoming out as he continued his desperate, urgent drives. Thrusts turning reckless. Panting breaths like dogs in heat; embracing every bit of his urgency to reach the floating clouds.

Your real name has slipped out of his tongue, sounding so lewd which has taken you over the edge. Knees began to shake as the high took over. Muscles clenching and also your cunt tightly choking his girth to spill his seed, urging him to thoroughly coat your insides. Another loud breathless grunt left his ajar lips; the sweat dripping down his temples as it also drenched his chest from all the activities. His heartbeat was running miles after miles, chasing to catch yours.

"G-Geralt, Geralt, Geralt!" you've salaciously cried out with every sloppy thrusts in the midst of having a muscle spasm; choking in the blast of euphoria when he'd took his hand off your mouth, grabbing onto yours which has been holding onto the headboards for dear life. Hence, as the witcher pulled your hand away; he'd done the unexpected.

Geralt of Rivia has sweetly peppered the back of your hands with honeyed kisses to soothe your convulsion; treating you like he wasn't fucking you to oblivion nor corrupting you from behind.

You've heard his breath hitch. The way he'd dropped his large hand on the mattress over your small ones, gripping onto it hard; you knew he came. He'd panted heavily above you, the new position being surrounded by his gigantic warmth. Your juices soaking your inner thighs as his load shot inside you. All warm and cozy; giving you a fuzzy feeling inside your chest that you couldn't explain.

He never pulled out until he was finished. You were so full of him, his seed dripping out of your cunt when his semi-flaccid cock dragged out of your overused pussy, telling him how he’d filled you more than he planned to. Your knees eventually buckled and lost its will to be useful for you; your face down on the pillow, running short of breath as you planted over the tousled sheets.

Geralt laid on the bed beside you, his large body built turned to you with an arm tucked below his head. Basking in all his glory and sweat with amber eyes solely worried for your weary form. You sounded like you were wheezing as he hovered over to pull the blankets over your waist, shielding you over the cold, crisp wind of the afternoon dew. Your whole body coated in the satiny sliver of your sweat combined with his and the witcher couldn't help but take in the view that he longed to be habituated once again before you came along.

Did he...actually break you while being drilled? he silently thought at the back of his tousled, half tied chalky white hair.

"Midget?" He softly muttered, using an elbow to peer down before you. Aureate eyes lingering a little bit longer. His fingers extending to graze along the line of sweat that covered your spine before reconsidering, hands ought to brush your disheveled hair away from your face, taking his time as he glided his fingers down through the side of your face.

He doted on the spent image of your sprawled body in the middle of his bed. Your heart turning more warmer than it ever could when you've felt him watching you over, the blankets glazing atop of your skin as you've closed your eyes, trying to steady back your breathing.

"I'm...fine. Just...spent. Let me...breathe," you breathlessly whispered.

"Hmm."

His faint, vibrating hum slowly calmed the fluttering butterflies flapping their wings inside your stomach. He earnestly cast his eyes over you. The thick pad of his fingers tracing along the hairs of your arm; giving you a shiver, padding down till the tips of yours before strikingly filling in the gaps of your fingers with his. Such a simple action making your heart feel snug with a hint of palpitation from the sudden, unusual gesture from the white wolf.

Well, he was certainly learning.

You've taken a peek from under the flat fuzz of your pillows; seeing amiable, tired, tender eyes. Rough, large palms delicately scraping through your soft ones, entwined amongst the unkempt silk of sheets from the result of your passionate tupping.

With your eyes still shut, a jaded admission was sent to the latter; assuming things from your negative state of mind. This always happens in the movies, right? the small voice in the back of your mind stated. After all the blissful moments, complication and problems tries to hinder over the blithe that wanted you to believe that this was a much of a miracle to happen.

It was subtly telling you that your presence in their world had a time limit because you didn't belong to their world in the first place. Salt came pinching down your heart at the sudden realization of that; getting a gist of feeling by choosing to live in their world forever, there were instances that would get you coming back from your dimension. Every felicitious moment feeling like it was all temporary and a fleeting scene in your mind.

The idea struck like a lightning. You didn't belong to their world; nor do you fit in.

Such a change of heart that you wanted to scurry home since the first day you've arrived; thinking that everything was just a dream or a nightmare that couldn't wake you up. But, in this exact moment; you felt like not wanting to go home.

"Why do I feel like you wouldn't come back after your hunt?" you weakly muttered; brushing off the infectious thought that could bring the felicity down; pulling yourself closer to him. You've tossed the bad shadows trying to lure you in as you've focused on the golden light that Geralt could let you see through. His warm breath fanned your face as you heavily sighed out the worry crippling out of your chest.

"You're overthinking." he deeply rasped, hearing him breath steady; sounding like his declaration had a double meaning. His thumbs brushed over your knuckles as he continued to reassure your troubled self, "---I never leave nor would I plan to. My family is my home,"

Geralt collected his thoughts, breaking through the spell you've always had to cast him in. Only your exquisite scent being the fire to thaw his walls down. It took him seconds before bluntly saying his next words, making you flutter your eyes open to see him softly smiling back at you. His tone warm, comforting and nesh for your sensitive, soft heart soul.

"---you are also my home. I'll always come back to you---always will find you,"

Those words that he stunningly said made your heart skip a beat. The cicatrix glowing beneath the sheets without you knowing, ecstatic of what has come out from his lips as a burst of bliss spread right through your chest.

You've felt the adrenaline rush from his sudden admission and change of aura; abruptly making you nail your elbows on the table, repeatedly blinking back at the witcher when you've felt the balmy cloud of warmth spread around your eyes; close enough for you to cry and you languidly leaned down to his very peaceful face to softly give him a kiss on the lips in which he gladly reciprocated.

No. This wasn't sweet nothings where he tries to win over your heart. His words was a declaration of breaking those walls down for you. It was a key for you to come hopping in, an invitation of seeing the real him; his vulnerable side that nobody ever sees.

Hence, this was the first time you've had someone showing you what it felt to be important, needed and cared for. A person with real intentions. Sensations which you never knew it existed or believed that you would ever get to experience such.

Nevertheless, it took you a trip to another dimension just to have it.

Your mouth left his with a euphonious twang. There was no rush to the kiss or any type of greed. Just a succulent sharing of what you wanted him to feel from your quiet response of what he said. It needed no words of approval or even a shedding of your tears; erasing the worries away if you started bawling your eyes out from his secrets that he whispered. His thick brows furrowed in a questionable expression, intently eyeing your dewy peepers staring back at him. Utterly fond. The witcher feeling as if there was profound affection deep within your eyes as you tried to shield them over with that twinkling gaze of yours.

He knew what he was seeing or feeling from you. But, he chose to ignore as of the moment.

"Jaskier's fond of you," he abruptly admitted, downright apathetic; his gravel tone expressing a mixture of interest and a little bit of doubt, not for you but for himself.

That simple display of what you've visibly felt made your heart soften a lot more than it ever could. Finding it hard to believe that this person slash mutant in front of you also had his own issues, sounding diffident with just conferring about this surprising fact he noticed from his friend who seemed to be catching feelings for you that certainly was quite difficult to believe.

You were biting the tips of your tongue from saying anything further more, pulling back from driving too fast that maybe Geralt was falling behind.

"Jaskier? Your Jaskier? The bard who always tries to ruin my day? you’re hallucinating, Geralt." you wanted to snort from his accusation.

Geralt has given you a dirty look, appearing to look like he has issues with you that he didn't want to expand as he kept his silence and continued to send a grimace. Was he hallucinating? Were he hallucinating when he'd read those words upon your lips hours ago? Was your endearment just a slip of your tongue? A simple caught up in the heat of the moment?

Was he also just hallucinating when you’ve called him ‘love’?

"Am I, really?" the witcher stated flat, sending a displeased hum as he subtly played with the softness of your fingers clutched to his bigger ones.

Your eyes turned wide from his deadpan, "What did I do? That banter sounded sarcastic, kitty!"

The latter slowly blinked, dragging a sigh as his baritone timbre turned stern and also meek no matter how hard he tried to cover it up from the roughness that he wanted it to sound like, you could read between the lines and sure enough, he was self-effacing from his friend who was also fond of you.

"Do...you like the bard?" he hesitatingly trailed off. The question ending with a pause as it sounded completely unforthright. You've given him a tender beam; child like and masking with nothing but innocence, affection and understanding, "Go on. I'm listening. Tell me what's on your mind," you started, seeing his tight lipped mouth shut. Those amber eyes briefly looking away from you,

"---Come on, please? Let me understand and see through the good heart that I've always believed in,"

Geralt gave it a moment. Exactly a minute as you've accepted the tranquil silence with him. Such silence that you have never imagined to be so comforting because back in your apartment, the stillness was eerie and cold; imagining hands trying to take your soul away from surviving a life by working in another country where you had no one but you.

"You're...significant to me." his glowing amber eyes turned heartfelt, shooting warmth through your skin and chest, "---you are a lot to handle. An unorthodox in my dimension. Yet, despite that, you're the havoc I didn't know I needed,"

"You're calling me chaotic. How sweet of you," you deadpanned, snorting from his metaphors that got you successfully rolling your eyes back at him.

"Your existence brought me sheer confusion about you. But, I'd rather have that befuddlement than to not be with you,"

Destiny brought you to him. Those assumptions he'd taken into consideration was now taken into account. Thus, destiny just needed this to not fuck it up. It shouldn't because he much rather not imagine how it would happen nor how he would be able to accept such fate laid before him.

"Jaskier's...a friend---he's important to me," he continued, feeling your other hand fall onto the side of his face; soft fingers tracing along the scar on his forehead and cheekbones with that glimmer in your eyes that make him want to give you another kiss; readable in your peepers was the acceptance he never knew he needed so badly, "---No matter how annoying he is. He's still my companion. A real...friend. I've seen how comfortable you are with him, saw how compatible you were with the bard,"

You've stopped brushing your fingers along his marks. Your free hand sluggishly propping below your chin as you've peered down. A small grin curling your lips, "When have you been a love guru? Does this version of you come up with a graphic chart that tells how many percentages do I seem to be compatible with Jaskier?"

He kept silent, staring straight into your eyes with a lukewarm expression; not understanding your references.

You've given him a faint raise of your brow, skeptically looking at him with an amused flicker of your peepers, "You've seen us that night. Explains why Jaskier was ranting about the door you've broken,"

Geralt kept his mouth tightly shut, shortly looking away before giving you a pensive response, "I've already fixed it---and you know it was not just about that,"

Pulling your closed fist under your chin, you've tilted your head to the side. Pleased by his tamed reaction as you've leaned closer to his face, adoring Geralt's sublime features that never fails to charm you everyday. His charisma totally knocking your wits out as you could finally see more of his true self.

You started, your words smoothly dancing per word; sounding utmost sincere and in wonder, "People in your world say witchers don't feel emotions," even being disregarded like they weren't humans, you silently added much more to yourself when you paused to talk, "---Well, my witcher is exactly the opposite because you're full of it even though you sound unenthusiastic all the time---comes with the mutations, I guess?"

The soft look in his eyes warmed your soul. Attentive of the stars that seem to float inside those amber pair; looking like he'd caught them for you. He stayed silent, never breaking his gaze away from you nor planning to move away from your body close to his.

"Do you want me to be with the bard?" your question caught him off guard, keenly reading through what your eyes wanted to say. The query sounding like it was just a quip.

"Will that make you happy?"

Geralt warily asked, completely earnest of what he said that made you bite the inner plump of your lips. There was a long amount of silence, contemplating what made him think that way, even considering the idea of never getting in the way when you'll choose another person than him. Was he even real?

Your smile fell a little at the question, swiftly unwrapping your hands entwined with his which ignited a tight frown from the witcher when he miscalculated the sudden gesture. But, those dreadful thoughts ceased when you've poked his muscular chest, the part where his heart loudly beat beneath the pad of your index finger.

"Will that make...YOU happy?" you slowly emphasized and returned the question, intently gazing above him. When he never answered and stayed quiet, it was the right time to say words that couldn't be kept to yourself. You've forgotten to bite your tongue from saying anything further less.

"---But, YOU make me happy, Geralt of Rivia. Isn't that enough reason to choose you?"

Keen golden eyes deeply gazed into yours, as genuine than it has ever been before; sucking you in and having no chance to escape from the resplendent color of his hues. Geralt moved beneath to help himself by using his elbow, his sudden elevation making you tilt your head back to see him deeply staring, mouth turning into a tight straight line as he rasped.

"Even if it takes for your life back in your world to be taken away from you---fuck." he abruptly stopped in the middle of his sentence, briskly taking a glimpse of the door behind you when he could hear stealthy padded footsteps hiking up the stairs.

Jaskier.

Geralt sharply sat his back on the headboard. His silvery, unkempt half-tied hair moving as he does so, the white sheets pooling just below his torso. He looked bedraggled and utterly sweaty which made it feel so fulfilling to have him in your presence looking like that. A miraculous snack. You could never have this opportunity back in earth.

You bit your lips from keeping yourself from grinning, curiously eyeing him as you mused. He deliberately scanned your exposed back, "What? What's happening?"

The latter took no questions and quickly pulled the covers over your shoulders as you laid on your front, slightly elevated with the help of your arms tucked under. He loudly sighed, sitting back on the wooden board. Recognizable footfall thumping louder and closer before a wind up bard barged in the room without knocking or announcing his presence.

"You two!" Jaskier exclaimed, ceasing midway in the middle of the room; looking lost and piqued. His pretty face morphed into a tight frown to find you and Geralt utterly rumpled under the sheets. You tossed a look over your shoulder to see the bard straight up crashing inside like there has been no lock or whatsoever.

Geralt motioned with his hands, palms on either side to show how taken aback he was from his friend who came trudging in like he owned the place. His face hinting with displeasure. Wordlessly gesturing towards the bard with a 'What the fuck?' face.

You skeptically hushed whispers beside the witcher, timidly pulling the covers over your wild head, looking stunned as you exclaimed, "I thought you locked the room? I told you to lock it!---What if it was Cirilla?!---Don't you know what a lock is, Geralt?!"

Despite of your panicking and embarrassed state, he was entirely the opposite as he sounded lackadaisical, going on by glaring at the bard who has his face scrunched in utmost displeasure, "I didn't expect them to arrive home this early." the witcher rolled his eyes from his galled self and sent a scowl towards the bard.

Jaskier raised his brow in disbelief, "Early? We've been gone for 8 hours, Geralt!"

"Well, I thought you'll be gone for at least a day and not barge in our room after we had a 'moment', Bard. A knock would’ve suffice."

Another set of padded footsteps, this time it sounded like this person was merrily hopping through the hallway. Until a ball of Ashen hair peeked through the opened doorway with a short Hirikka standing in the middle of the threshold.

"I'm here---woah!" Cirilla seemed to be knocked out of her boots when she saw you emerging from under the covers, bashfully covering your chest with the sheets, looking mortified by everyone seeing you in that kind of state. You were glaring at the witcher who tossed your off the side for a while as he dealt with his scandalous and crazy family.

"---I knew it!" the princess of Cintra loudly clapped and jumped on her feet. Her excitement immediately dying down when she noticed that you both weren't actually clothed beneath the white blankets. She firmly crossed her arms, her nose scrunching in disgust, "---Also, gross! Please do lock the doors next time!"

She whistled at the flabbergasted Hirikka who was sniffing the whole room in bewilderment; stout stopping before the bard as he sniffed him loudly enough for Jaskier to wave his face off away from his face. Cirilla whistled another, catching the beast's attention and making Geralt wince due to his heightened hearing, "Kolby, let's go! I'm giving you a nice warm bath!" before she shut the door closed behind them when he'd run off towards the princess.

Geralt and Jasker were giving each other stern glares; seeming to be in a challenge where one shouldn't back down despite of how mean it appeared to be like.

Jaskier was the first to talk, beginning his interrogation, "Who ruined the dining table?"

You swallowed the butterflies wanting to fly out of your throat, lifting a shaky finger to point at the witcher who was still as he sat on his side of the bed, "I’m definitely not the person who has superpowers here---It's him," but, Geralt seemed to answer in the same time with you.

"No one."

Jaskier didn't seem to want and take everyone's bullshit as he crossed his arms in front of you both. Geralt's clothes on one hand and yours in the other that made a blush go straight up your whole face, burning the dignity that was left. You wanted to yell from how irresponsible you were for leaving your clothes all around the house when you promised yourself that it'll be fixed after your activity.

You didn't expect Geralt to take eight hours---or you did?----and actually forgot what was needed to remember.

"Oh, no one, Geralt? I suppose this shirt is also owned by no one, considering how unclad you are right now? Hmm. Would this tunic come from the Hirikka then?" the toubadour raised his hand where Geralt's black under tunic has been balled up.

Jaskier dramatically puffed out a sigh, sounding like it was the end of the world for what has welcomed them when they came back from their weekly visit for Cuthbert. He held forth about your sudden shenanigans around the house like a father delivering a tirade.

"We leave for eight hours and this is what you both welcomed us in," pause. "---A broken bloody table where we dine!" Another pause as he threw Geralt's clothes at his face in which he caught it perfectly, "---your clothes everywhere in the house like snakes who shed their skins anywhere they go!"

Lastly, his foot fidgeted on the wooden floors, tapping in anxiety as he remembered that tiny scratch he had seen on his beloved musical instrument, entirely galled from the wound it received like it was his baby.

"---and also my lute---my beloved lute falling on the floors! You've hurt her!"

"We didn't touch your lute," Geralt's response was tepid, lazily blinking back at the enraged bard who stood in the middle of the room.

Jaskier's raised his hands to his hips, raising a finger and opening his mouth, expression wild and ready to send another harangue before back paddling inside his train of thoughts.

He briefly shut his mouth, tilting his head to the side as he wondered out loud, "Oh, maybe the air pushed it to fall. I remembered how I left the windows opened too. However---!"

Geralt cut his verbal onslaught, his gaze narrowing at Jaskier who also didn't back down at sending a nasty lour at the entertained witcher.

"I'll fix whatever is needed to fix, bard. Stop your whining," you've felt the bed squeak and bounce. Geralt slipped his legs out of the sheets, feet plopping down the floors as he heavily sighed. It needed power; manpower for Jaskier to leave the room and Geralt knew he wouldn't leave until he pushes him out of the threshold.

The witcher stood tall and firm, completely au naturel from head to foot like how he have been when he was a baby, stark naked without being moved by the idea that Jaskier was in the same room as you. His bare ass never shaking him off and so does the bard.

"Leave. Out of my chambers, Jaskier."

Geralt sauntered to where he is. Your eyebrows raising in amusement as you've marveled over the witcher in the nude. His beautiful, rugged bare back on show with that A+ rating of his derriere in which you freely tried to memorize inside your head.

Though, you couldn't help but take a glimpse of Jaskier who seemed unfazed by this whole nakedness he was seeing; like he was familiar of the whole thing and the white wolf's dangly bits hanging and it has peaked your curiosity.

Do they bathe together then?

The bard has seen your amused smile with a skeptical brow raised to what you were witnessing. Thus, he peeked around Geralt to acknowledge your curiosity; pointing at you with a roguish grin, "That face tells that you have been swimming deep inside the vast depths of the sea, wondering why I am not bothered by the witcher's nudity---"

"Jaskier," Geralt sent a tired warning and held his slim shoulders, forcefully turning him around as he pushed him forward, towards the door.

"---It's because I have rubbed chamomile onto his lovely bottom before! It was true! I never lied! It was a part of the rules in becoming the rightful travel companion until you came along and began rubbing it for himself! Though, I doubt you did it to join our adventures!---"

You couldn't help but stifle your tee-hee from his admission. Finding their friendship amazing to the point that he does it for Geralt; receiving nothing but his altruism and adventures that the witcher has shared together with him.

Geralt loudly closed the door behind Jaskier; his mouth running on and on about how such a change of habits it has been when you came in their life. He'd knock a lot of times, calling out for the both of you and trying to want and barge in your moment but your white wolf finally knew what a lock is and slid the wooden block over the hook to lock his chambers.

"He seriously rubs chamomile on your butt?"

The skyclad man turned on his heel, raising a skeptical brow as you tried to focus hard on his face and not his body that stood before you.

"I guess that silence means yes, then. Oof, such bromance! Don't you think I'm the one who's actually becoming a hindrance between your platonic relationship with your bard?"

"Ridiculous." He took several steps closer, making you turn your head from becoming too flustered over his glorious, scarred body that he certainly isn't afraid or diffident about his imperfections anymore after you've treated them like it was a part of him that you will always accept. Geralt sat on your side, reaching over the bedside table to look beneath the drawers.

The latter placed a small, transparent bottle on your hand. A clear yellowish tone of liquid inside as you stared at it, thoroughly intrigued, "What's this? Is it another one of your witcher potions?"

Geralt hummed in negation, lifting his calloused hand to take your chin in between his fingers, turning your head to look at his ardent, shining amber, "Eucalyptus Oil. Took it from Cirilla's chambers. For you---For later. Perhaps, our recent activities had you feeling utterly spent,"

You've blinked, taken aback from his plans for whatever it is he wanted. Though, it didn't take you to put two on two together to know where his plans would take you, "Why are you---Oh. I know. I definitely know what you want." pause. "---you are insatiable, Geralt."

Geralt gently nudged your chin, tilting it up to his advantage as he leaned down to press a soft buss to your lips. Once again, he'd took your breath away by how tender he was handling you. The mere opposite of what people see and expected from because they never had the chance to walk through him; they didn’t have the courage to know who he really was.

His thumb that rested upon your chin were easily replaced with his lips, kissing you on the spot before gliding the dimples of his nose to yours, subtly giving you an Eskimo kiss.

"My overly developed lechery certainly comes from the mutation,"

Geralt's mouth lifted into a small, unusual beam, fluttering his eyes closed as he concentrated on you and that specific comfort he found. Questions came hitting him like stones, breaking the mirthful bubble that he was brought in.

He didn't want you to go home anymore because he'd found home in you.

But, what if fate had move mountains and threw his happiness away again? Leaving him no choice but to watch you go?

Taglist for WOTN: (Strikethrough means I can’t tag you, bb’s! 💖) @alyxkbrl @himarisolace @barkingbullfrog @ayamenimthiriel @hellodevilslittlesister @vania-marie @spookypeachx @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us @nympeth @amirahiddleston @gabethelobster @dreaming-about-starfleet @uncoolcloudyhead @melaninstylezz @psychosupernatural @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer @marvelousell @kingniazx @angelias134 @tapismyforte @chook007 @covid-donotenter @winter-moons @cheesecakeisapie @silverkitten547 @angelofthor @carrieannewaywardson, @plantingmum, @stuckupstucky, @shesthelastjedi, @a--1--1--3, @gutfucks,

Overall witcher taglist: @pizza-eater-i-ate-the-pizza

General taglist for Henry: @agniavateira, @iloveyouyen, @rahdaleigh,

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redrosesartcabin · 3 years

Text

Calibans journey

Hello peeps: I started writing a fanfiction with an alternativ ending and consequencial continuation. I hope I´ll finish this one, but if zou like it you can just push me to do so! This is the prologue of the whole thing. I will also post this fanfiction on my A03 account (Redrosessoulcabin). I hope you like it!

Edit: Hey guys! I’ll be continuing this fanfic over in A03. Here’s the link to the fanfic. I hope you’ll like what I have in store!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28525986/chapters/69900519

Prologue:

Caliban sat, alone, in the Void. He heard the others cry in silence, they wanted to leave the darkness, the brightness, the nothingness, too much for the human mind to comprehend.

But he did not care. All he cared about was getting out of here again, getting the body of his bride and finally honoring her death.

If he hadn't been made out of clay, maybe he would've cried too.

But he wasn't.

Did he even feel anything at all like they do?

He supposed so.

Around Sabrina Morningstar, he had always felt like a pottery figure in the oven, burning a strong foundation, almost undestroyable.

Now it felt like he was drying out, falling apart, as though the figure had been thrown out of the oven before having finished the process, being left to crumble away.

´That´ he thought ´must be what clay feels like when in love and when in pain´ and he started contemplating this, almost feeling cold, almost feeling like fading away.

“Stop this pity party!”, he yelled, angrily at himself, into the emptiness -not receiving an echo which would´ve sent shivers down his spine if he had human skin- stood up and tried summoning the fires of hell to get him back.

But nothing came.

He tried and tried, but nothing came of it.

He sighed and sat down again. Feeling his soul wanting to leave his body.

“I wish I could come to you, my love”, he whispered, looking up, or maybe down. He couldn't tell. There was no up or down, no north nor south.

Suddenly he felt a vibration. Time had passed, how much, he could not tell. Time didn´t matter here, nor did it ever matter to him.

But not much time could´ve passed as he saw the former human friends of his bride run into the no space of the void, looking just like as he remembered them, and from the little he knew about mortals, he knew that they age and therefor change in appearance.

That somehow gave him a vague sense of relief. Not much time having passed means there was time to maybe fix things, to make things right… the way he thinks it's right at least.

At first he was thinking that maybe the other Sabrina asked her friends to save him too, but as he heard them walk to the mortal miners, not shouting his name, it was clear he was condemned to be left alone.

Maybe he should just make them take him! But what would that do? Why would he want them to know where he is inside of this non-realm? He was in the weaker opposition right now. And who knows how long they had till the portal would close? Until everything would cease to be? They had no time to fool around! He had no time to fool around.

´No´, he thought ´I have to escape myself´.

He was thinking back and forth, if he could run through the portal, unnoticed. However, he was sure shortly after contemplating that simplistic plan, that the other acquaintances were surely waiting on the other side.

Maybe he should…

He could feel it. The energy as he called for it, asked if it surrounded him.

“Could it-”, he wanted to ask himself but felt it dwindling slowly again.

´I have to try it again or I will never be able to try again´

So one last time, he called for Hellfire. And surely: It surrounded him, wrapped him up like one wraps themselves into a blanket on a cozy afternoon.

The opening of the portal must´ve connected to Void to the realms once more, making him able to use his powers again.

Before he was sucked away he could see in an indeterminable distance, Nick, the other Sabrina's lover, with Pandora's box. He opened it and screamed in pain, as it sucked in all, including himself. For a moment Caliban thought it was too late, that he´d be sucked in too. He closed his eyes, felt the fire protect him, hoped it would protect him well enough...

...and there it was. As he opened his eyes he could see its autumn colored beauty. Hell.

“Oh my beautiful Hell! Thank you unholy fire for bringing me here!”, he screamed. He breathed out air out of his nonexistent lungs and exclaimed a little shaky

“That was close”, before venturing off to the throne.

Meanwhile, back at Spellmans sacrifice, they saw Pandora's box, having fallen to the floor, Nick disappeared, he had sacrificed himself as well as she did.

A tragic event.

The living cried tears of sorrow for the young couple that had died together, but it was said that at least they'd be together in the afterlife.

Non of both had been left behind to live a life of pain with thoughts of suicide, no after tragedy for either one of them.

So it happened to be, that Sabrina Spellman and Nick walked, in spirit, hand in hand, into the room of the afterlife, crying together for their lost life, but happy to have given peace in union…

Their story was over.

Caliban's story and his mission however just started.

As he returned to the throne, he noticed Lilith there, Satan was gone.

“Oh no”, he only whispered, deciding, instead of risking a fight he wouldn't win, to flee into the shores of sorrow.

Everything seemed out of control and out of reach for him, but he wouldn´t give up. He couldn´t give up. All could not be lost.

So, since he did not know what else he could do right now, he looked at the sorrowful sea, that he knew too well and did more thinking than he had ever done before.

Finally, after two days, as though the huge wave that had almost engulfed him had brought it, an idea flooded his mind, and he decided to go on a journey, to find his bride.

How, you might ask?

Well, he had thought, what happened to Morningstar after she died? Her soul couldn't just have disappeared? It must´ve returned to hell. For why wouldn't the soul of the queen of hell return to hell itself? And since they had found Spellmans body, and that he knew from sources that shall not be revealed -(stalking probably)-, he would return his lover's soul to that body (the other body was too wounded, too poisoned to have a soul return to it), that technically was hers anyways. The way he saw it, it was all Spellmans fault. His bride deserved every version of her, every life of hers.

He decided to shortly visit the mortal realm before starting his search, where from afar he watched the burial of his beloved and the false-one.

Caliban waited for a while, quite patiently, which he usually wasn´t, and, when the ceremony had ended and everyone had gone home again, he buried out Spellmans body and quickly fixed the grave again before anyone could notice his presence.

They had managed to unfreeze Spellmans body quite well. She was in one piece, well conserved and dressed in a beautiful black gown and golden glittery eyeshadow with deep dark red lips.

“Let's find your rightful soul, my love”, he whispered, carrying her like a bride, before disappearing in his fiery swirl.

He searched for a place to hide her body whilst he would look for her soul and found a beautiful tempel amidst the dark trees in the forest of torment.

“Here, you shall be safe for now. Nothing wants you here, the torments will keep you safe. There is no hope for you yet, so they will find no way to give you mental pain. I´ll be off now, and I promise to find you, no matter what it takes…”

#the chilling adventures of sabrina #caos #caos part 4 #caos part 4 alternative ending #caos fanfiction #caos sabrina #caos caliban #caliban x sabrina #sabrina x caliban #sabrina morningstar

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dhwty-writes · 3 years

Text

Awakenings

The last part of my gift for @heyabooboo for @thewitchersecretsanta!

Did you think we're done with the angst? Sorry to disappoint, there's still one last chapter left. So, without further ado, read away!

Summary: Geralt wakes up from his stay in Nehaleni's dreamworld. But Jaskier is still asleep, and it's not looking good for him.

Moodboard by the amazing @petrificustotaluss

Warnings: temporary character death, I guess? For about 1 paragraph

Read on AO3

Waking up is one of the strangest experiences, mortals undergo on a daily basis. It can be peaceful, like untangling yourself from a lover's embrace to go relieve yourself, only to know that you will come back to that welcoming warmth once more. It can be violent, like a bucket of cold water on a morning after a bender. It also can be very disorienting, especially if you find yourself in a place where you decidedly did not fall asleep in.

Some of them wake slowly, their mind still wrapped in the sluggish fog of my dreamworld of creation and creativity. Others fight to escape the misty tendrils of a nightmarish prison of their own design. And others still are able to wake in the span of a heartbeat, one blink submerged in the very heart of my garden and the next far beyond my reach.

Witchers, generally, belong to the latter sort of people. It is a shame; they rarely are able to indulge in the pleasures of my realm for long. Waking to a monster with steely claws looming over you or a beast ready to tear out your throat will teach you to sleep too deeply. And even if they are able to enter into my domain, their lives of hardships often make it impossible for them to even imagine anything but a waking nightmare.

So, it should be no wonder that Geralt of Rivia woke with a gasp, already half on his feet before he even knew what was happening. The witcher stumbled, his legs giving out beneath him and collapsed on the floor.

He blinked. His vision was still foggy with the sleep. He blinked again. And again, and again, and again, until he could see the room he was in clearly. 'Room?' Geralt groaned and pushed himself up to his elbows. "What the fuck?" he meant to mumble, but his throat was too dry to form words.

The door burst open. 'Shit.' He tried to scramble to his feet, panic flaring up in him. He was dressed in nothing but breeches and a shirt, different ones than what he had worn when he had gone into the ruin. His armour, his swords nowhere to be seen— Whoever had come to look for the intruder in their home would surely have having and easy job finishing off the witcher—

"Geralt!" Yennefer of Vengerberg exclaimed and fell to her knees next to him. Her hands hovered above his body as if she didn't dare to touch him. As if he were an illusion that might shatter any minute. "You're... awake?"

"Yen?" he groaned weakly, not quite believing his eyes either. What was she doing here? She should be far away in whatever estate she was currently occupying while he was supposed to be on a scouting mission in a haunted ruin. He glanced around warily. Wherever he was staying, it was definitely not a ruin. More like the mansion of some minor noble.

"Yes, it's me, you big dumb oaf," she scoffed and interrupted his wondering. She tugged at his too-heavy arm until he complied and she could pull one of them over her shoulders. "Triss!" she called as she tried to get him into a standing position. His legs stubbornly remained uncooperative. "Triss, come over here, he's awake!"

It took his brain a while to catch up with her words, his mind still much preoccupied to move even one single muscle in his body. "Triss?" he croaked. This was starting to make less and less sense. And it hadn't made a lot of sense in the first place.

"She's looking over Jaskier," she snapped as if that was an appropriate answer.

"Jaskier." He frowned as he was made to sit down on the bed he had stumbled out of earlier. Jaskier. He remembered— In the ruins, he remembered the fog. The nightmare. The blood, the guilt. And the loneliness, the desperate feeling of missing someone. He remembered yelling— "Jaskier," he gasped. He remembered the deity, remembered the deal—"Butcher, I need a priest. You need to offer a replacement at least. Come with me and I let your loved ones be. Or stay and let them pay."—the garden, robes, shackles. He remembered a door, and— "Jaskier."

He clung to Yennefer, desperately, hoping she would understand. She passed a hand over his hair. "Breathe," she ordered him and pushed a waterskin into his hands. He drank gratefully. "And drink something. Your bard is—" She hesitated with a frown, evidently weighing her next works. "He's asleep next door."

"What happened?" he grunted, once his throat didn't feel like sandpaper anymore.

"He brought you here," she explained calmly, handing him a cup with an atrocious smelling concoction. When he raised his eyebrows in question she answered: "Yeah, I don't know how he managed either— oh that? Drink that, it will give you back some of your strength—he brought you here, begging me to save you. I told him I'd do some research—"

"—and came to Aretuza, where she found me," Triss Merigold chimed in from where she stood in the doorway. "Welcome back to the world of the living, Geralt."

He frowned. Aretuza? Yennefer avoided that place like the plague. If she truly had gone there, it had to have been bad. "Triss," she chided, evidently surprised.

"Don't worry, he's stable." The words 'For the moment' hang unspoken in the air between them. "Did you know that your bard is absolutely insane?" He nodded. "He demanded that we send him after you and threatened to find a ruffian to knock him unconscious if we didn't."

Geralt grimaced. Yeah, that sounded like Jaskier. He drained the last of the revolting brew and thrust it back into Yennefer's hands. "How long?" They exchanged a silent glance. Geralt growled. "How long?" he asked again.

"Almost two months," Triss admitted finally.

Two months. The little colour he had regained drained from his face again. Two months of sleeping. Two months without moving a single muscle. Two months without food and drink except for what the sorceresses could administer with their magic. 'Too long.' That was too long, far too long for any human. Panic started rising within him as he thought of all that could happen in that time. "Where is he?"

"Geralt, lie back down," Yennefer tried to soothe him and manoeuvre him back into a lying position.

"No," he insisted weakly, and tried to push her away, a futile attempt in his weakened state. "No, no, Yen. Yennefer, where is he? Please, I need to— Please!"

"You need to rest, is what you do."

"You lost a lot of strength in that time while you were asleep," Triss agreed, but he barely listened to them.

His mind was aflutter with all the memories of his stay in the deity's realm coming back to him; the lonely eras of him kneeling at their feet with nothing to do, nothing to talk about, Jaskier appearing, the Game of Fools, the poems, the shackles closing around Jaskier instead. Their last song, their kiss, their goodbye. The storm raging with Jaskier at the centre, hidden from view but clear to see, energy swirling around him, within him, dying out. Their freedom. A kiss. "I'll be with you in just a moment."

"Stable?" he echoed.

"Yes," Triss agreed. "He has been so for a few days."

"I need to see him," he blurted.

"Geralt," Yen said very softly, but he was having none of that.

"No, I need to see him." He grabbed her by the shoulders and stared at her intently. "I need to see him," he insisted again. "Please. Please, Yen, help me."

"Geralt," she said again, more worried this time. He looked at her, pleading, desperate. "Alright," she whispered and hoisted his arm over her shoulder again.

"Yenna," Triss chided, but she was shut up with an angry violet stare.

"Come over here and be useful. He wants to see him? Fine. He'll see him."

With combined forces they managed to haul him over to the room next door. They almost didn't make it over to the chair next to the bed, for Geralt's legs gave out beneath him from relief when he saw Jaskier lying there. The bard was thinner than he remembered, his cheeks sunken in, and his skin a sickly grey he almost didn't notice with the glowing sphere of light surrounding him.

He looked peaceful, almost, he mused, once he collapsed at his bedside, waiting. Peaceful and stable. But the longer he waited, the more worried glances the two sorceresses exchanged, the more time passed without his... friend? Lover? Bard. The more time passed without his bard stirring, the less he looked asleep. The more he looked like a corpse.

"What— Why— Why is he not waking up?" he stammered after what felt like an eternity.

"It's the spell we put him under, so he could go after you," Triss explained as Yennefer put a hand on his shoulder and asked: "What happened Geralt?"

"He won. They said that we could go, he won, he wrote a song to melt a heart of stone!" He looked up at both of them, uncontrolled, unbridled fear clouding his mind. "He should wake up, he won- Why is he not waking up? Triss! Yennefer!"

Again, the anxious glances. "Lift it," Yennefer said quietly.

"Yenna—"

"No, Triss, you have to try again. You have to lift it."

"Again?" Geralt asked with a wavering voice as Triss got to work, chanting quietly in Elder. "What do you mean, again? Yennefer, answer me!"

"Calm down, Geralt," she ordered him sharply and he snapped his mouth shut. He could do that. "It's— Fuck," she cursed and looked away. "I need you to not freak out. Alright? Do not freak out, Geralt."

He probably couldn't do that. Still, he nodded.

"We had agreed with him," she started slowly, "to leave him in the netherworld for one month. For safety reasons. So, after that had passed, we tried to guide him back. And— we couldn't. It was like he was fighting back. And then, he slipped further under. With each day, more of his soul got sucked further and further into the netherworld."

"What?" he whispered quietly. "But he found me. He won. He should be waking up now."

"We're not sure if he can. We can lift the spell, but... there is so little of him left in this world, he might not be able to find his way back here."

"But he won," he said again, stupidly. "We were free to go. He— He said he'd be with me in just a minute." Despite his better knowledge he reached out, to grasp his hand at least. He hissed when the sphere burned his fingers.

Uncharacteristically, Yennefer didn't even chide him for it, her attention diverted by Triss' disturbingly calm: "Yenna." Geralt was left to stare helplessly at his bard's lifeless body as the two sorceresses argued quietly.

After just the blink of an eye, Yennefer turned back to him and said: "Geralt."

Suddenly, he knew with terrifying clarity what she was about to say next. "He's not finding his way back," he said with a surprisingly steady voice. "He's dying."

"He's dying, Geralt," she agreed meekly.

He nodded. He could already feel the tears rising again in his eyes, just like they had done in the netherworld. Only this time there was no soft song of Jaskier to call them forth. Instead, the room was as silent as a grave. "Drop the sphere," he ordered.

"Geralt—" Triss tried, but he shook his head.

"If he's dying anyways, I can at least hold him while he does," he decreed. "Please. Drop the sphere. And leave us alone. I'll— I'll shout, once it's over."

He didn't even register them dropping the spell and leaving. He just blinked and found himself alone with a barely breathing Jaskier in the room. In any other situation it might have worried him. It should have worried him. But not now.

Not now, because Jaskier was dying, and there was nothing he could do.

Geralt swallowed his tears and, with an incredible feat of strength he crawled onto the bed. Wheezing, he leaned against the headboard to regain his breath. Then, he heaved Jaskier into his lap, to cradle him gently.

For a while, he just sat like that. Holding the fragile body of his bard, rocking softly back and forth while he listened intently to his breathing. Jaskier breathed in. And out. In. And out. 'I should say something,' he knew. But what did one say to a dying person who couldn't even hear you?

"I— I'm sorry," he stammered after a while, the first thing that came to his mind. Jaskier breathed out. And in. "I'm sorry it has to end like this. I'm sorry for going into that ruin, I'm sorry for being so stubborn, I'm sorry for never telling you how I feel."

Jaskier breathed in. And out. It was like those words broke a damn, for suddenly Geralt couldn't stop speaking anymore: "It was stupid, I know. But I was scared. Scared of losing you. Somehow, I thought losing you when you didn't know would be easier."

Jaskier breathed out. And in. "Hm." He carded his fingers through Jaskier's soft hair. "Stupid. Hurts just as fucking much."

Jaskier breathed in. And out. "I'm really fucking angry with you right now, y'know, Jaskier? I wanted to hear that song. I wanted to kiss you. For real. Just once."

Jaskier breathed out. And in. "Y'know— hm." This was somehow even harder than he'd thought. "Y'know, you were the last thing I thought about before I fell asleep. And the first thing I worried about when I woke up in the garden. When they offered me their terms, I— it's stupid, but at first, I didn't even think that they might ask for Yennefer's soul instead. Or Ciri's. All I thought was that I can't let 'em have you. 'S why I stayed."

Jaskier breathed in. And out. "I love you," he whispered and took his hand gently. "I know you probably can't hear me, but if you can, please— Please, Jaskier, come back to me. I'm waiting for you. I'll always wait for you."

Jaskier breathed out. Geralt waited. And waited. And waited. He didn't breathe in again.

"Fuck," Geralt whimpered, curling himself around his bard's lifeless—dead—body. He might have been ashamed of the violent sobs that shook his body, of tears that flowed freely. But all of that mattered so little. Not when he— Not when— When—

"Oh," a croaky voice said and Geralt froze, "tha's nice."

"Jaskier," he whispered against his bard's shoulder, not daring to look up. What if he had misheard? What if Jaskier was not actually awake? What if it was a ghost, what if Geralt had to fight him—

"'S my name, love," Jaskier slurred and sighed. "Always thought it'd be nice t'die in your arms."

He couldn't help it. He had to pull back and look. He had to confront the horrors that inevitably waited for him when he looked into his bard's face, he had to see— Blue eyes. Very tired blue eyes. Very tired, alive blue eyes. "You're not dead."

"No? Oh." He blinked sluggishly. "Dyin'?"

"Yen!" Geralt shouted, because he didn't know what else to do. "Triss, Yen, he's awake!"

The two sorceresses barrelled into the room immediately, betraying that they had been eavesdropping. Geralt was hauled off the bed by Yennefer, as Triss rushed over to Jaskier, weaving spells and fishing for potions in her bag. "Wha's happenin'?" Jaskier managed before he was shut up by some vile concoction being poured down his throat.

"You nearly died, you idiot, that's what's happening," Triss hissed as she supported his head while he struggled to swallow the brew. "Reduced your witcher to a useless, blubbering mess."

She wasn't wrong. Geralt still couldn't stop rambling: "He just woke up, Yen, I don't know— I don't understand— He was dead, and suddenly he was talking. Will he be alright? Please, will he be alright now?"

"Shut up," both women snapped at him and Jaskier.

"Yen, I need to—" he tried again and was promptly shoved back into the chair.

"If you don't sit down and shut your mouth, I swear to the gods, Geralt of Rivia, I'll kick you out of this room, whether you can walk or not," Yennefer spat and joined Triss in the check-ups she was running.

It was probably the hardest thing he had ever done in his entire life. Normally, he had no issue with keeping his mouth shut, but this time it felt like torture. His fingers itched, his whole body thrummed with the insistent need to do something, anything. Was this how Jaskier felt all the time? Geralt felt like he was losing his mind.

Yennefer held Jaskier upright as Triss stripped him of his shirt to check for... something. Geralt's stomach churned with each strip of sickly grey skin revealed, stretched far too thin over Jaskier's rips. 'Maybe I should wait outside,' he thought. But he couldn't. Not watching, not knowing seemed somehow even worse.

His thoughts were interrupted by Jaskier's hand searching blindly on the soft sheets. "Please," he croaked, "take my hand, love."

And how could he deny such a request? Geralt leaned forward, resting his forearms on the edge of the bed to clasp his hand tightly with both of his. The angle was a bit awkward, maybe, but that didn't deter him. He was glad to be able to do anything at all. And if he helped Jaskier with that, even better.

He couldn't say how much time passed before Yennefer and Triss backed up, grim masks hiding their relief. Not very well, of course, but still. "You'll be alright," Triss decreed. "A few days of rest and proper food, and taking it slowly for the next few months and you should be as good as new."

Jaskier nodded and smiled. "Thank you."

"Still, you're an idiot. I tried to wake you up, twice. And you didn't come back either of those times. You fought me, you bastard."

"I'm sorry. I needed my strength there." The smile on his face grew sheepish. "But I'm back now, aren't I? We both are."

She scoffed and crossed her arms. "You owe me, bard."

"I know. And I'll gladly repay you at any time."

"No," she pointed a finger at him, "not at any time. First, you rest. Come, Yenna." They were already out the door when Triss poked her head back in. "Before I forget it: there's a strict no-sex-policy while you're resting."

Jaskier scoffed and Geralt made a vague gesture at both of them, exhausted from the little they'd done in the past hour. "I doubt that's even an option."

"For now," Jaskier added and Triss wrinkled her nose.

"Yeah, it's the 'for now' I'm worried about. No sex!" she ordered again before she was pulled out of the room by Yennefer and the door shut behind them.

With them gone, the room was plunged into silence. Geralt knew that he should say something, but there was nothing he could think of. As so often. Instead, he just sat there, still holding on tight to Jaskier's hand as if he might vanish if he stopped touching him. And staring. How could he not? Whatever magic the two sorceresses had worked, had regained Jaskier some semblance of strength at least, his skin not quite as sickly pale as before. But it was his eyes that kept attracting Geralt’s gaze. There was something… weird about them. An unearthly glow, interrupted by little bursts of lightning flashing through the clear blue. He couldn’t bear to look. He couldn’t bear to look away.

Luckily, with Jaskier silence never lasted long. "Hey there," he whispered and stroked Geralt's knuckles with his thumb. He still looked very tired, but the smile at least was reassuring. "You look like shit."

Geralt snorted. "You've seen better days yourself, bard."

"Rude," the bard decided and pouted, closing his eyes again.

"You started it."

He chuckled and squeezed his hand weakly. "Shouldn't you be nicer to me? Y'know after all of—" He waved his hand around vaguely.

"What? 'Cause you're my lover?" He groaned quietly as he got to his feet again. "Can I?"

Jaskier's eyes snapped open again and nodded. "Is... that what I am?" he asked hesitantly, shuffling to the side to make room for Geralt on the bed. "Your lover?"

"Hm," he answered and flopped down, exhausted. "You're my bard,” he said finally, once he was settled. “And you're an idiot."

"Yeah?" Jaskier scoffed. "Well, whose idea was it to investigate a spooky ruin? Certainly not mine, I tell you that mu—mphh!" Geralt shut him up with a kiss.

"You're an idiot," he said again once they separated. "And I love you."

Jaskier's expression softened and cuddled close, arranging Geralt's limbs to hold him. "I love you, too, you fool."

"Good," he sighed with relief. Immediately, his expression hardened again: "So, stop being an idiot!" He pointed an accusatory finger at him. "I can't lose you now. Fuck." He draped his arm over his eyes. "Fuck, Jaskier, I thought I was losing my mind. You stopped breathing in my arms."

"Romantic, isn't it?" the bard grinned up at him. Geralt growled and Jaskier winced. "Too soon? Yeah, I get that."

"Yennefer told me you found me and brought me here. I— I can't even imagine how you... How could you bear that?"

He chuckled. "I don't remember, if I'm quite honest. One moment I found you lying there, the next I was knocking on Yennefer's door. And then suddenly I woke up in the netherworld."

"Hm. Was it—" He hesitated, remembering what it had been like for him. The fog, the corpses, the guilt. "Was it bad?"

"Bad?" Jaskier grimaced. "It was a fucking pain in the arse, that's what it was. So many riddles. So weird."

"Weird?" Geralt looked down at him suspiciously. He supposed that was one way to put it.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Pink grass, purple trees, green snow. A whole bunch of talking flowers and birds. Just weird."

"Hm." That didn't sound anything like what he had seen.

Jaskier huddled closer. "The nightmares were worse," he confessed. But before Geralt had a chance to ask about them: "But let's not talk about that now. The important thing is that we are together." He yawned. "And that we'll stay together."

"Hmm." He pressed his nose into Jaskier's hair and inhaled deeply as his bard's breathing evened out. There were still so many questions he had. Like why Jaskier had stayed longer. What had happened during the storm. What the name of the deity was. But they could wait until they had slept. "Sweet dreams," he mumbled. "I'll be there when you wake up."

Jaskier's lips quirked upwards. "I'll be there when you fall asleep."

Geralt hummed, not quite understanding what he meant. But it didn’t really matter either, he decided and let his eyes droop closed again.

It was a serene and starry night when the witcher fell asleep with his bards in his arms. As it should be, by any rights; a night as beautiful as you can imagine for a picturesque pair of young lovers. They dreamt as well; a dream of pink grass and green snow, a garden with an old friend and a sky that was eternally stuck in sunset no more. It was a peaceful dream. A dream of freedom, found fortune, and love.

#my writing #For You I'll Always Wait #FYIAW #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #geraskier fanfiction #the witcher fanfiction #geraltxjaskier #geralt/jaskier #the witcher secret santa #yennefer of vengerberg #triss merigold #and we're done!#thank you guys for reading this #i hope this ending is satisfying

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nikibogwater · 4 years

Text

A Shot in the Dark: Chapter 3 (Author’s Commentary)

(Read the fic here)

General Notes:

The final chapter! I don’t have too many general notes for this one (though the passage-specific notes below the cut stretch on for miles--there was just a lot going on in this chapter lol). But I will say that this is my favorite chapter of the three. It’s what the previous two have been building up to, and it really is the “heart” of the story, so to speak. That, and I finally got to make Glitter Wings Nari canon to The Immortal Bonds! (picture below the cut) I genuinely teared up a little bit while writing a couple of these scenes. I don’t know if that means they are very good, or that I was just absolutely exhausted after cranking out the first two chapters, but maybe you can be the judge. Friendly reminder to go listen to the song “Protector” by City Wolf if you are so inclined. It was a huge part of what inspired this story, and now that all three parts are published, I feel like it perfectly captures the theme and feel of A Shot in the Dark as a whole.

Passage-Specific Notes:

“...Please, Nari, I would not be doing my duty as Douxie’s...as your friend if I let you run thoughtlessly into this kind of danger.”

Another small line of dialogue that means a lot to me. I didn’t see Archie as making the instant connection with Nari that Douxie did. I think it took him a while to see her as anything more than “Douxie’s Ward.” He was always kind to her and took care of her, but I think it took him until now to realize that he had grown to really love her as part of the family. So the fact that he corrects himself here reflects that realization. I think under normal circumstances, the moment Archie finds out Douxie is in trouble/hurting, he would dive headfirst into hell without a second thought in order to help his boy. But because Nari is now also under his protection--and more importantly, now that she also has a special place in his heart--Archie has to force himself to slow down and come up with a plan that will keep BOTH of his kids safe.

The phone rang once--twice--six times. Then it went to voicemail.

Nari lowered it with a look of pure dejection as Claire’s pre-recorded voice cheerfully told them to leave their message after the beep.

I felt like calling Claire for backup was the most sensible thing they could do in this situation--but I also needed Nari and Archie to take on Project Rescue Douxie by themselves, in order to reinforce the family bond these three have. The moment when they all reunite at the end wouldn’t have had the emotional impact I was angling for if there had been others present. So I had to pull a tiny plot contrivance and make Claire unavailable. I didn’t feel the need to explain why she doesn’t answer her phone (people miss calls all the time) but my personal theory was that she was taking a nice relaxing shower and couldn’t pick up the phone. (look, I need SOMEBODY in this story to be having a nice time lol).

“By Ambrosia’s Gleam...” Archie breathed. A pair of dazzlingly beautiful wings reflected every light of the city back at him as Nari folded and unfolded them experimentally. They were unlike anything the cat had ever seen in his long life, vibrantly colored with rich shades of green and gold, glittering like morning dew, yet delicate as a newly budding flower.

Anybody remember last week, when I said the Most Self-Indulgent part was yet to come? This was it lol. I don’t remember when I started imagining Nari with sparkly butterfly wings, but back in early October, I drew this:

and I have been absolutely enamored with the idea ever since (but also it was a convenient way to get them to the warehouse without having to go through the ordeal of walking/taking a taxi/busting out the flying boat). So yeah. Nari’s Glitter Wings are canon to The Immortal Bonds series now. I have spoken.

He had no idea how long he had been enduring Rivan’s torture. It may have only been a few minutes, or it may have been a few years. Hell, he was getting to the point where it felt like this excruciating ache in his bones had been there his whole life. He tried not to sob as Rivan slowly pulled his magic back to himself, the agony abating for just a short moment of sweet relief. Douxie sucked in gulps of air, desperate to replenish the oxygen that had been ripped from his lungs by his own screaming.

First time really writing whump, so that was...something (I was exhausted after just the one paragraph lol). I tried to keep it as vague as I could because I don’t want anybody coming to my fic expressly for a graphic torture scene and nothing else (I don’t do the hurt-no-comfort thing, and I don’t want anybody to use my fics as such). But putting Douxie through a bit of hell does make the ending SO much sweeter. And if he hadn’t been experiencing pain, Archie and Nari probably would have taken longer to decide to come to his rescue. But there is still a part of me that detests every letter of that paragraph.

The small dragon let out a roar of fury and leapt at Rivan, his form twisting and expanding into that of an enormous black panther. The two crashed together in a flurry of red sparks and tearing claws.

Archie turning into a black panther and going to town on Rivan is also a bit of self-indulgence. I just really love big cats, and black panthers especially are beautiful, mysterious, and powerful creatures that just SCREAM Magic and Otherworldliness to me. (also I really want to draw Panther!Archie now).

He slammed against the concrete with a yowl of pain that tore Douxie’s heart into a thousand pieces, and dropped to the floor, where he lay quivering and heaving.

That line right up there 👆 is the most heart-wrenchingly painful thing I have ever forced myself to write. 😥

Nari grabbed Douxie by the shoulders and pulled him upright. One of her hands reached around him and pressed against his heart, and he felt her aura slam into his. Instinctively, his soul opened, and he let her magic pour into him, filling his veins with the warmth of a hundred suns, wrapping around and tangling with his own magic so tightly that he could barely tell whose was whose. Nari’s voice filled his head, drowning out every sound in his ears, every thought in his mind. My magic is yours. Use it. He threw both of his hands out and felt power unlike anything he had ever known surge into his palms and explode out of his fingertips.

So this ties into a headcanon of mine that, while Nari’s magic isn’t well-suited to direct combat, she is able to augment Douxie’s powers. But this scene is also probably the culmination of every relationship-building moment I have ever written for these two. I established in A Moment to Breathe that to let someone interact with your aura in this way--to basically channel their magic directly into you--requires a great deal of trust. Douxie let Nari heal him in that story, but that was after she had asked permission to pour her magic into him. Here, she doesn’t have time to ask--she just has to go for it, and Douxie’s trust and familiarity with her is so intense at this point, that his response is to immediately surrender completely to her power. Not only that, he is so familiar with her magic, that he is able to use it himself--he combines it with his own power and casts a spell that Nari is likely unable to use herself. I intended this moment to be a representation of the way family relationships can shape and empower you. You carry elements of the people you love with you wherever you go; their influence, their stories, their love for you--it all helps shape you into the person you are. And these things are often so deeply intertwined with your own personality, that it becomes impossible to fully separate them.

They had risked everything--the fate of the world, even--to save him. He should have scolded them. But instead, Douxie suddenly found himself overwhelmed with the ridiculous urge to cry.

This was the reason I wrote Douxie in Distress--and also one of the reasons I wrote A Shot in the Dark at all. I wanted him to experience being stripped of everything that made him powerful--useful-- and then witness his family risking literally everything for him. Not for his powers, not for what he can do for them, but because they love him. This poor, sweet boy gives and gives and gives, and the world has done nothing but take from him, and I have said “ENOUGH.” I wanted the serotonin of seeing him realize that he is valued and cherished for himself, and BY THUNDER I WAS GOING TO GET IT EVEN IF I HAD TO WRITE 9000+ WORDS FOR IT.

She pulled back a moment later, roughly drying her face on her sleeve, and untied the black hoodie around her waist. She draped it around Douxie’s shoulders with her magic, and he sighed contentedly as the warm fabric settled around him. He slipped his arms into the sleeves and closed the garment around himself gratefully, giving Nari a tired, heartfelt smile.

I didn’t realize it when I initially drafted the story, but Douxie’s hoodie is actually a really nice visual representation of how he and Nari pass the role of caretaker/protector back and forth. Douxie is wearing it for the first half of the story, when he is acting as Nari’s guardian/brother. Shortly after he lends it to her though, he’s captured by Rivan, and Nari takes on the role of protector in turn. But yeah, originally it was just “Them trading the hoodie back and forth is pointlessly cute and I wanna do it.” (Poor Archie has to be the Adult 100% of the time. He doesn’t get a break).

Most of Douxie’s mornings began with the harsh, clattering sound of his phone vibrating and whistling next to his ear. But that Sunday morning began with a deliciously warm silence. Douxie’s eyes blinked open slowly, finding sunlight lazily shining through the windows. He was lying on his side, with Archie’s soft, familiar body tucked against his chest. A gentle warmth against his back told Douxie that Nari was curled up beside him, wrapped in her own little cocoon of blankets, her back against his. The ache in his bones was gone. He was nestled safely in the warmth and love of his small family, the world outside and all that occurred within it nothing more than a distant echo.

Wrapping his arms around Archie and pressing his back more firmly against Nari’s, Douxie closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

This final scene wasn’t actually in my original outline--originally, the story ended with the three of them beginning the long trek home together. But I felt that the story needed just a little extra time to savor in the happy ending. And so, it came full circle--ending just like it began, with the dawning of a new morning. I noticed that I spend a lot of time in this story comparing the mornings of different characters/days. I think that might have been a subconscious expression of my belief that every morning is the beginning of a new opportunity--to strengthen bonds, to do good in the world, to just live for another day. Douxie’s Saturday morning started off a little rougher than he wanted--he woke up early and had to rush around to get ready for a long day out on the town. And wouldn’t you know it, his Saturday ended pretty badly too (though I think he’s probably just grateful he got to go home in one piece haha). This Sunday morning plays out in the exact opposite way. It’s quiet, peaceful, unhurried, and full of hope. Douxie’s been through hell and back, but he survived long enough to see another beginning. And I think that’s the beautiful cycle that all human life follows. There’s pain in life, darkness and hopelessness, but if you can hold on, strengthened by the love of the people you hold dear, you will always find a new beginning waiting for you on the other side of the valley.

...And that’s it. Thank you to everyone for reading my work. Seeing everyone who enjoyed it, hearing from you guys in the comments, knowing that I was able to give someone a good story--it really does mean the world to me. So again, thanks for joining me, and I hope our paths cross again soon. 🤗✨

#fanfiction #author's commentary #the magical siblings #and their therapy cat #a shot in the dark #thanks for reading <3

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alias-b · 4 years

Text

sins of my youth. 009

Billy Hargrove x OC! Evie Fenny~ Also posted to my AO3

Summary: It was common knowledge that Billy Hargrove hated Hawkins. Hated Cherry Lane. Even loathed the strange girl next door. Evie Fenny wasn’t too fond of the chaotic Cali transfer either. An awful high school tradition sparks a chain of events that changes everything, ultimately bringing two frayed souls together.

A/N: Making some good headway with this fic so new chapter!! Revenge is a dish best served cold. Forgiveness is warm. Billy and Evie make some more progress. LONG chp! Enjoy!! TW: Student/teacher relationship. Sexual refs. Abuse warning. Gaslighting.

TAGLIST OPEN!! Chat with me about this couple :))

Chapter 9: Everything Is Blue

“How much did she want?” Heather asked, crossing into the bedroom with a giant bowl of popcorn.

“She heard my voice and said she’d do it for free after Billy gave her two hundred that night. I think we should still give her something.” Evie was sitting on Heather’s bed so her friend joined. Billy leaned back in the desk chair across the way, eyes flickering all over Heather's royal bedchamber.

“Told you I gave the money away.” He muttered.

“Where did the rest go? You got three hundred.” Popcorn crunched.

He looked down with this somber shrug.

“I gave Brock’s date a ride home. She was waiting for a taxi and, I don’t know, she looked scared.”

“His fourteen year old date.” Evie remarked. Poor girl. Probably took her just because he could get away with it.

“What!” Heather almost dropped the entire bowl. “What a disgusting-”

“Yeah.” Evie shook her head.

“I gave her the rest, felt like shit.” Billy finished, eyes meeting Evie’s when he looked up. She peered aside in a flash.

“So, Brock goes to church every Sunday if you can believe it with his parents and girlfriend. Her folks too since her dad’s the pastor. Usually gets out just after noon. People linger outside, you know, to catch up. I think that’s when you want to move in on the guy. Right in front of everyone before he can run off with his dick friends.” Heather offered the bowl to Evie so she could munch on some.

“It’ll work. Bubbles was all too excited to play actress.” Evie smiled, cocking her head so Billy would cross to eat with them. He sat on the end of the bed. Peeked at Heather before grabbing some popcorn.

“Tommy didn’t question why I asked for her number, he’s not a fan of Brock either anymore.” Billy licked his thumb. “Apparently, they figured he paid her and he got disqualified last minute. He gave Bubbles thirty just to show up so he’s broke now.”

“Tommy and Carol hate what you hate.” Heather rolled her eyes.

“That too.” Billy gestured and grabbed more popcorn, chewing. Weird to be sitting around like they were something close to friends. Revenge brought people together.

“If he sees us, he’ll know something’s up.” Evie spoke. “I don’t think Tannen sticks around after church though. Maybe we need someone in his circle to distract him long enough for Bubbles to make her move once everyone is out in the open. He’ll definitely run the second he sees her show up. She told me the outfit she was going to wear. Whew, it’ll be something.”

“Might be weird if I show up. I mean, our parents run in the same groups and they get along...but I make it obvious I hate him.”

“Turn him down a lot?” Billy pulled at his tee.

“Once a week, at least.” Heather reclined to think.

“Who else do we know that’s rich and unsuspecting?” Evie set the bowl aside, glancing around at Heather’s walls covered in cut out magazines. They looked at each at the same time.

“I got it!”

Both girls peered at Billy’s confused face before he appeared disgusted.

“Oh, no. Not him.”

“Time for you two to suck it up and get along.” Evie got up to grab Heather’s phone. “I think I remember his number.”

“...How’s that?” Billy's interest piqued.

“He’s been a gentleman and giving Evie rides to school when I can’t.” Heather saw Billy’s brow twitch at that. Smiled wider.

“Steve, hey.” Evie said into the phone. “Sorry, I’m calling from Heather's. I wanted to ask a favor, can you meet us here at her place?” A beat before she laughed. “Yeah, it's top secret.” Evie bit her lip and Billy huffed to himself. “Sure, see you in five.”

She hung up.

“On the way.”

“I’m still hungry, let’s order Chinese." Heather perked up. "I know what you like, Eve. Billy will get what I order and like it."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Be back. My folks left money on the fridge.” She sat up to go. "We'll feast. It's a possible last supper."

“Extra spicy, please.” Evie grinned as Heather walked out. Leaving her and Billy alone there. Slowly, she came back to sit on the bed. “So.”

“You seem more excited about the revenge than I am now.” He leaned in to catch her eyes.

“Might be nice to see that asshole fall apart for ten seconds.” She shrugged, legs crossing to settle her hands in her lap.

“Hey,” Billy uttered even softer, one leg on the bed, “you’re still here with me.”

Eyes panned to meet.

“I am.” Evie almost seemed to realize it too.

“Why’s that?” A dry curl fell into his face. Billy searched her and Evie didn’t peer away.

“Already told you, my calendar’s open too.” Evie looked fluttered at him. Thought of confetti falling when Billy curved toward her. One hand pressed on the bed and Evie turned her head last minute.

“Hey, he got here quick. Food’s on the...way.” Heather paused with Steve Harrington behind her. Billy and Evie shot back from each other.

“Him?” Steve had flared, pushing his initial confusion aside. “Hell no.”

“Round two, Harrington?” Billy stood up. Revved.

“I am not sitting in a room with this asshole.” Steve shot back.

“Easy, easy. Let us explain.” Heather touched Steve’s chest.

Explaining didn’t help because Steve pounced on Billy before they’d even gotten to the revenge part. Knocked the broad boy off the bed into the carpet.

“Man, you’re sick!”

Billy was snarling under him. Not actually moving to hit back when Steve’s fist cocked.

“Stop it!” Evie grabbed Steve’s arm to pull him off. “Hey! We’re here to get Tannen back! Steve!”

He paused to look at her. Straddling Billy with one hand clutching his tee. Got shoved off. Heather rushed to pull Steve up with Evie. Billy stumbled backwards to his feet after.

“Trying to make it right.” He heaved out, palm smoothing his shirt.

“I spent a night in the fucking hospital because of you,” Steve seethed, “but bringing Evie into that shit? You had no right.”

“Not asking for forgiveness, I’m just-”

“You should be on your fucking knees begging her for it!” Steve burst out. Evie touched his shoulder again.

“Look, I haven’t...forgiven it."

"No, he's right. Evie." Billy sunk to his knees. The saturated colors of him glimmering there. Evie's brow jumped as he grabbed her hand. "I'm on my knees in front of Heather...and Heather's acquaintance."

Steve went flat.

"Asking forgiveness. I haven't earned it, but I'll stay here and beg for it." Billy's low baritone shook her knees. Big, bright eyes that melted her down. "Please, Evangeline."

"Jesus Christ." Steve's arms crossed, eyes rolling. Heather snickered to herself and Evie gave that usual scrunching look. The one that made Billy smile.

"Easy, boy. On your feet."

"As you wish." A smirk danced and Billy rose. Evie had to take a breath and compose herself, turning aside. Billy still had her hand so she snatched it to function again.

"I’m not letting him off. But, Tannen manipulated us both and I see that. I’m doing this for the other girls, he needs to be taken down a peg. Ignore Billy and his camp while we do this.” Evie reasoned, meeting Steve's eyes. Shoulders falling. “You can help us get him back.”

Steve looked between her and Billy.

“Okay.” He sighed. “Okay. I’ll help you out. What did you need me to do?”

“We might need some of that Keg King flare back.” Evie nudged him.

Steve laughed at that. A small sound as he scratched the back of his head.

“Might be able to fake it.”

** ** **

A plan was set. Strange still to be sitting around a diner table the next day with this group. Drinking cold beverages in the winter. Almost friends. Big question mark. Unlikely allies. Heather drove them out because her car was the least suspecting.

“How’re we doing on time?” Evie leaned over to see Billy’s wrist. Sipped a chocolate milkshake because she had a craving and plucked the shiny cherry up to put it between her teeth.

He was too busy watching that to tell time. Her tongue sliding over the juicy, artificial red of the fruit before she plucked the stem to chew.

“Hey, I’m just gonna guess that’s your friend.” Steve cocked his perfectly styled head in the direction of the window. Bubbles lingered there, unsure if she should come in. Coat pulled close over her dress and tights. Heavy makeup illuminated her entire face. Evie hopped up with a smile.

“Just in time.” She clicked out to grab the older woman’s hand and pull her inside. “I ordered you some fries, wanted you to eat something.” A basket full of hot gold was set down. Billy scooted over a chair so Bubbles could sit, smashing her cigarette out.

“You brought a cute friend, sweetie pie.” Came the happy rasp.

Billy lifted his head to beam and sunk when he saw her instead pinching Steve’s cheeks pink. Heather covered her lips giggling, but Steve liked it because for once, Billy wasn’t getting the attention.

“So, you wanna get this guy bad, huh?” Bubbles was reaching for the ketchup to feed herself. “Least Tommy was nice to me, not handsy like the others there.”

“Brock’s reputation is everything. We embarrass him in front of his people, that’ll burn. Really play it up.” Evie crossed her arms over the table.

“Oh, I know exactly what to do. Gimme a ring if it works. We’ll all want to disappear quick after. My car’s around back. Seemed like a fun gig. I always wanted to be an actress.” Bubbles gestured with a fry and bit into it.

“Here’s for helping us. Means a lot strangely.” Heather offered a couple bills.

“I like you kids. Sticking it to the man as they say.” A shrug followed. “I saw that man’s date. She looked like my daughter. We don’t speak anymore. Happy to help knock an asshole off the saddle.”

“Tannen’s eighteenth birthday was last week. They had this massive party at his dad’s biggest casino. Glad my parents already had plans or they would have made an appearance.” Heather made a face. “His girlfriend’s sweet, maybe she’ll dump his ass finally.”

“Almost showtime,” Steve perked, “look across the street.”

Bodies in their Sunday best. Rich folk meandering around the front doors. Expensive cars crossing.

“You’re up, Steve. Go bump into an old rival. Shoot the shit.” Evie gestured. “Bubbles will follow your cue. Get out of there once she’s close.”

“I hope your boy is ready for this.” Bubbles stood while Steve chuckled on the way out, fluffing his hair. Her bracelets and necklaces clicked together. Hands adjusting her bra crudely. A wink and she strutted out too.

“Let’s get better seats, ladies.” Billy lit a quick cigarette. Made his way out before Heather swiped it to puff too. Billy didn’t fight her on that. Evie trailed behind them. Eyes on the pastel crowds. Men in khaki and women playing a game of ‘my obnoxiously decorated hat is better than yours.

Frozen streets that made the bright colors even more annoying.

The trio hid around a building across the way. Leaning into a fire escape. Saw Steve swaggering like he was out for a Sunday stroll in the rich area of this town.

“Hey, Tannen, that you? Long time no see, man.” Steve cocked his head to flash that winning smile.

Brock covered his disinterest with one that matched.

“Stevie boy. Didn’t know you still hung around these parts.”

“Where else would I get my hair products?” Fingers swept his voluminous mane.

“Not like Hawkins has a lot to offer, I guess. I hear they’re building a fancy mall.”

“Should give us something to do this summer.” Steve shrugged.

“I missed my shot at you in those last few games.” Brock’s arms crossed. He touched his chest where the silver charm used to sit.

“Ah, yeah. Wasn’t for me anymore.” Steve’s brow quirked. Tannen’s girlfriend and his parents weren’t far behind. Making nice with the pastor.

“Hargrove said something similar. True about you guys?”

“Yeah, I heard some wild stuff about you though. Some tiff the football players like to reenact with that girl. Pretty one. You on the floor wailing, the details escaped me.” Steve laughed for effect and Brock joined him. Artificial overlapping sounds. “Well, so great to catch up.”

“Say hi to your old man for us. I know he’s busy with work and his secretary.” Brock’s lips lifted in an empty fashion. “Love to catch up with the folks. Especially when those college letters come in. We’ll be having a party or two to celebrate me getting into Stanford. Where all did you apply again?”

Steve’s smile faltered.

“Pshh. So many places.” Steve patted his back. “See you around, man. I’ll let our football team know I ran into you. You're their favorite subject.”

“Right.” Brock narrowed as Steve went around him. Tried to puff his chest out and intimidate. "Yeah, why don't you make like a tree, and get out of here?"

Steve hitched this breathless laugh and caught himself. Jesus fucking Christ. Instead he winked with a finger gun.

"I'm gonna do just that, Tannen. Don't ever change, ya hear?"

He went into the crowd, leaving Brock to feel great about himself.

The prick didn’t hear the peppy clicking.

Ruby red curtains parted somewhere. An overture bloomed. Show time.

“Brock, baby! It is you? Hey-a, honey pie.” Bubbles opened her animal print jacket to flash a bright pink ruched mini dress. “You didn’t forget about me, did ja? I can barely walk.”

She grabbed his face in front of everyone. Smacked a Barbie pink kiss into his mouth. Moaned.

“Oh, baby, I had such a great time last night. You’re an animal.”

Across the way, Evie was leaning into Heather to laugh. Barely able to stay upright. Brock reached into his mouth and pulled a wad of chewing gum out.

He hadn’t been chewing it a moment ago.

Frantic hands wiped his lips off.

“Evie, your new friend is my hero.” Heather cackled. Smacking at Steve’s chest when he appeared behind them. Bubbles was talking animatedly. Clinging as Brock tried to push her off and explain to his family behind him.

“Oh, his girlfriend’s about to blow. Look at her face. I feel almost bad now.” Evie shifted back to touch Billy’s arm. Blue eyes turned to see her nails. Painted a fresh rose red.

As if he felt it, Brock’s head snapped in their direction.

They all ducked behind a dumpster. Evie pressed into Billy’s side.

“He see us?” Heather muttered.

A commotion built as Bubbles flashed her wiles and clicked off. Practically skipping. Leaving Brock in a pastel lion’s den. Jesus himself wasn’t coming to save him.

“Don’t feel bad. It’s open season and Tannen’s not winter surviving material.” Billy remarked, peeking again. "Look at their parents. Fuck."

“We should jet, this guy’s about to explode.” Steve pulled them to stay down and race toward the other end of the alleyway. “The gum was genius.”

“I think his mom fainted into the pastor.” Heather laughed, unlocking her car.

“Let’s get out of here.” Evie stole the passenger seat, leaving Steve and Billy to glare at each other in back. “Let’s see him explain his way out of that.” She waved to Bubbles appearing down the block.

“You guys want to hit up a movie or something? There’s no way I’m going to sit at home after that.” Heather turned the key so they could go. Evie looked around. Smiled genuinely.

“Actually, that sounds great. I’d kill for some sour patch kids.” She was mid turn to see the boys before Steve jumped to attention. Eyes wide at something beyond the front windshield.

“Guys! Problem.” He reeled to point. A sleek black car screeched around the corner. Not bothered by the cold in his fury, Brock clicked the roof to come down and stood. Shouted something unintelligible.

“Ah, shit. Heather, go!” Evie gestured until their little silver car skidded to turn down the street. “Drive.” There was some yelling in the backseat as Billy was tossed into Steve. Having not put his seat belt on.

“Ack, get off me, you damn brick...” Steve shoved the puffing boy away. Forced Billy into the seat and pulled his belt over. Got smacked off so Billy could click it in.

“He’s following, Heather!”

“I’m trying! I’m not prepared for a race today.” She peeled out through an alley back to the road. “I’m not getting pulled over for this asshole!” Her cheeks flushed red like a pair of cherries. Whipping around the next corner with Tannen in hot pursuit, probably freezing because his roof was still down.

“Hey, hey, there!” Billy leaned in to grasp Heather’s seat.

“I’m not gonna make that.” Heather panicked at a soil truck backing up toward a garden being constructed. Ready to block the way.

“Wanna bet? Punch it.” He gripped tight as Heather’s poor car revved forth. Weaving between vehicles and behind the beeping truck. Evie idly grabbed Billy’s arm turning to see Brock on their tail.

No way he was going to make it.

Heather hit the brake to stop at the next red light. They all whirled to see him. Chickening out, Tannen’s car swerved to a hard stop. Bumming into the back of a rickety truck on its side. Scratching paint and denting metal in.

“Holy shit.” Steve gasped out. "Are we dead?"

Brock was still raging at them when the back of the truck burst open. Sending a pile of filth into his open expensive car. Billy about howled. The upset teen was buried until he had to spit it out of his mouth. Profanities whirling as the driver came around to scold him aimlessly.

“That's...manure…” Evie realized. More laughter echoed through the car. Heather turned back to follow traffic off. “We are dead, aren't we?”

“We’ll just look out for the jerk. He’s got brain cells in the negative.” Heather had replied, reaching to turn her Madonna tape on. Billy sat back with a groan.

“Oh, I love this one.” Steve spoke over him, earning a look. "With Brock in deep shit...literally, his dad will be on him. The team's gonna love this one."

They drove from the city. Left Brock Tannen to stew in his own mess.

“Did you see his face when he pulled that gum from his mouth?” Evie chattered still. “His parents are gonna have him on lock down. No credit cards. No dates. Nothing. It's beautiful.”

“You're hot when you’re plotting someone’s downfall and reaping the benefits.” Billy scooted to lean between the seats.

“Ugh, sit back.” Heather grimaced, switching lanes. Billy peered at Evie’s profile and reclined. “Movie offer is off, we almost died.”

“You guys think Tannen is scrubbing himself of shit right now?” Steve piped up. Billy actually gave a snort at his rival. Faces went flat as they glanced at each other.

“Might as well throw the damn car away.” He’d added. Steve smirked a little and stifled it. This is the guy who busted his face open a couple months ago.

“Probably trying to explain himself as we speak. I hope he likes being single.” Evie played with the zipper on her jacket. “Four of us didn’t make a half bad team.”

“Admit it, I’m growing on you. I pressed you into this, Angel.” Billy got sly. Stared and knew she felt his eyes. Another laugh with an inch of sarcasm.

“Hard pass. I'm the evil genius here.”

** ** **

Word spread about Brock Tannen’s mishap in front of the holy father. His retaliation hadn’t come, being in trouble with his rich parents. No one knew about the four who kick started it. But, the legend would live on.

Evie had more glowing news. She’d made it two weeks without eating foreign objects. There wasn’t an empty feeling, not yet.

Maybe it was an odd phase. And she could stop.

Because she was in control and could stop whenever she wanted. This wasn't a problem.

February started off even colder than January. All the snow that melted was back with a vengeance. Even the ponds and lakes in the area froze over. Stilled in wait.

“Your 18th birthday is at the end of this month.” Fredrick spoke while he set a plate down. Cheese and mushroom pasta. Evie thanked him quietly. Bowers seemed happier about the upcoming festivities than she did.

“Mom’s already planning a surprise party I’m not supposed to know about.” A giggle followed. Secret date Friday night, first day of the welcomed midwinter break. Evie wore a pretty dress with something lace underneath.

“I just wondered if you considered your options.” He even poured her white wine. Tall glass.

“Options?” A fire crackled in the living room. Hard sounds she felt in her bones somehow.

“You and I.” Fredrick went on. “If you wanted to go. Start our lives that we talked about. These dreams we had for months, we talked and now...it just feels so close.”

Evie almost dropped her fork. Saw his eyes dip to see.

“Sorry, it’s sudden. Ah, I can’t drop out of high school, you know. Didn’t we always talk about how important my education was?” She paused quicker. “But, I thought about it. Us.”

That was a lie. Not while Billy Hargrove was batting his lashes at her locker every day. Snapping at anyone who dared to speak down to her. Groveling. Joking like they might be friends. Flirting endlessly. Billy and those iridescent eyes ruining her with their glitter.

This game they played where she hid smiles until he walked away.

“No, you're right. It was foolish that I even pressed it. I shouldn’t hope for you to…ah, well.” He only smiled. “This summer. I could relocate and you could come with me. You'd like to get away, wouldn't you?”

“My mom and I have all these plans to get my music out.”

“You can still sing your songs with me, Evie. You know, your mother wouldn’t understand us if you came with me. I think it would be best for some distance. She’d have time to come around to the idea. Understand that you're happy with me. You are happy with me, aren't you?”

"Of course, I am. You put me back together."

Bowers loved that and sipped some wine. Evie stared at her plate and felt something well that took her appetite away.

“I love you," he professed, "I will marry you. Do this right. But, I’ve waited quite a long time, Evie. I hope you understand that.”

She brought her hand up to her cheek in a motion like she was comforting a baby. Something she'd picked up since eating these things she shouldn't have.

“I do. I…”

“And you’re always saying your mother doesn’t understand. She keeps things from you. I just hate to see her hurting you. Neglecting you. You deserve so much better.” Fredrick shook his head. Sighed like it was truly unfortunate.

Poor Evie with no one. No one, but him.

“She tries, she’s just hurting after the divorce. She’s not good at…”

"It feels like she doesn't even want you some days, isn't that what you said?"

"I was just mad at her over it all. We don't really fight." Her protest came out weak.

“Your father can’t even be bothered to call his amazing daughter. Can’t man up and explain. It breaks my heart.”

“My dad...loves me.” Evie said a little snippier than intended. Trying to convince herself too. Jack Fenny was always holding her. Kissing her forehead and rubbing her back. Protecting her from thunder storms. Evie sighed and blurted something else. “I kissed someone else.”

“What?” Bowers paused, lowering his fork.

“A boy. Well, he kissed me.”

“I didn’t think you were that kind of girl.” Fredrick offered that sweetly.

“He’s been a real jerk and I think he was just playing with me. But, now I think he was really trying to make it up to me."

"He forced you?"

"No, I kissed back and I didn’t tell you because it didn’t mean anything. It didn't.” She told herself that once a day thinking about it.

Billy’s moans into ruby gemstone lips. His hands under her shirt. Hot.

“Evie. It’s fine. You’re allowed to have those teenage experiences. Frankly, I’ve told you to be open. It’ll help us go unnoticed.” A beat. “Did you sleep with this person?”

“No."

"Do you want to?"

"No! Never.” She laughed, eyes elsewhere as if she’d also never thought of it.

As if she didn't think about Billy's fingers and his tongue and how he'd devour her. How he'd spell the word Angel between her spread thighs.

How wet it made her to consider it while she sat at the table with the god damn teacher she was fucking.

“I won’t be upset if you do.” Fredrick caught her eyes again. The pupils blew.

“No, I’m with you. It’s you and I. Like we planned.” She shook her head. A grin followed Fredrick’s lips. Pride. “We can talk about summer, I just think…we should do it carefully.”

“You’re right. I won’t push you. Can’t blame me for wanting you, Evie. You're like a drug.” His tone was more so unsettling.

She blushed there. Drank her full glass of wine down. Head spinning. Stood to cross and plucked up his glass to down it too. Fredrick watched. Pleased. Enchanted.

Then, she leaned down to kiss him. Hands on his face. Edging into his lap to tug so he'd take her to bed.

Bowers forgot his meal was there. Got up still kissing her to lead them off.

"I want you to fuck me." She asked like a grown woman. Lashes fluttering and flushed from the wine sloshing in her belly. His thumb pushed into her teeth. Faces close.

"Really asking for it, huh?"

One hard shove sent her into the bed. Evie felt drunk finally, wobbling to turn with her fingers smoothing over the cotton blankets. A neutral expression crossed her face. Eyes drew to an decorative plant in the corner.

It badly needed water. Once shiny green leaves drooped a dry brown. Poor thing.

Evie couldn't stop thinking about it.

Poor thing.

Weight shifted and he was over her. Whispering naughty things.

His shadow stretched until she was lost to it.

** ** **

Evie was home just before dark. Sore and holding her coat close. Walking down Cherry Lane, a car hood smacked shut. Billy peered up at her there, wiping his deft hands on a rag.

“Too cold to be working on your car.”

“My baby gets what she needs when she needs it.” He winked, tongue sweeping. Eyes scanned her outfit and this empty expression crossed. “Don’t need to ask where you’ve been.”

“No, you don’t.” Evie crossed her arms tighter until her coat sleeves rode up along her wrists. Watched Billy pull his cigarettes out to light one. Smoke puffed and he narrowed on her again.

“The fuck is that?” Billy was crossing, jerking Evie’s arm out to pull the sleeve down before she could react. A chill seeped. Violet and rose flower petal like bruises on her forearm and wrists. Splotchy and discolored already. “He do that to you?”

“I didn’t even notice it.” She yanked away. “It’s nothing.”

“Gets rough in the sack. Trying new things because he has a bouncy, cool girl. Or one who acts the part. It's not you, Evie.” Billy inhaled to flick his ashes.

She didn’t move. Just stared at his eyes. Wondered if Billy thought less of her. She hoped he didn't.

“Plenty of people like it rough.” Evie scoffed. “He worries about me when I leave.”

“He worries you might spill the truth to someone. Grabs to make the point. And it sticks long after. Literally.”

Evie blinked. Went around him.

“See you later.”

“You bet.” Billy turned and watched her before leaning against his car. Evie snuck in and heard her mother’s chattering into the phone. More ice up her spine with the low tone.

“Yes, I got it. I don’t want your money, Jack. I told you. Leave us alone.”

“Mom?” Evie gasped it, hurrying into the kitchen to see her mother slam the phone down. Crumbing a letter in her dainty fingers. “Was that dad?”

“No, baby, just calling your aunts to let them know I’m headed out.”

“But, I heard you. I heard you say his name.” Evie pressed. “Did he ask to talk to me?”

“Evie, it was nothing, baby.” Mona hurried around her to toss the envelope into the fire. “Make sure this goes out before you go to sleep tonight. I left money on the fridge and we’re stocked up for the week. Salon will be fine and call if they think they need some extra hands.”

“Mom, I know that was dad. Why are you lying to me?”

“Evie, I’m not going to discuss this. I’m already late to the airport. My taxi’s pulling up.”

“No! Tell me the truth. What’s going on?” Evie had her mother’s luggage so Mona pulled for it. Yanking her daughter to the door. “Mom!” She hated that tears burned her eyes. “Stop lying to me! What’s going on with dad?”

“He doesn’t want us, Evie!” Mona huffed like it truly pained. And it did. “We just have to be fine with that. Sometimes, the Lord tests us. We endure.”

“So, we just don’t talk about it?” Evie tugged again. Flaring up. "We don't talk about anything that isn't pretty!"

“Your daddy was a godless man!" Mona burst. "I won’t let him hurt you ever again.”

“Again?”

“Evie, I’m late, baby, I love you. Don’t do this.” Mona pulled her bag free and grabbed her coat. Clicking down the stairs.

“My father loves me!” Evie called after her, stepping onto the porch. Mona’s shoulder rose as she crossed down and ignored it. Got into the taxi as fast as she could so they skidded off.

Evie puffed there. Wiped her sleeves on her wet cheeks.

“Evie?” Max had joined Billy on the sidewalk. Conversation disrupted by the drama at the Fenny house. Evie exhaled cold and blinked until her makeup started to run. Sniffling. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah, fine.” She saw Billy step toward her and scurried back inside. Listened to the fire crackle some and went to her room. Unable to breathe right, hands felt around the bookcase. All the trinkets waiting.

She thought of Fredrick and his hands squeezing. In bed. Ropes. All the fucking orders he coos in her ear. Her head spinning and it's not enough to take her away. Not enough for her to dream deeper. Those hands. Yanking as she’s trying to leave to warn her against letting their secret out.

But, he loved her too much. That's all. Emotional repetition.

Thought of Mona unable to look at her so often. Unable to notice her unraveling and speak of it. Paint a happy face.

Thought of lightning cracking to underscore a boom of weighty thunder. Palms on her legs.

Not that kind of girl.

Evie covered her ears.

“Stop crying!” She wept with trembling lips. Too many hands roamed her body in darkness. Voices soothed her ears and only made it worse. She stood there patting her cheek, trying to console herself.

Evie plucked up a tiny padlock shaped in a heart. Something you’d clasp your secret diary with. Pushed it into her tongue. Palms flattened on the wall as she tried to swallow. Choked the rust taste down until she was gasping. The lump sunk lower.

Breathing slow.

In control of her thoughts and emotions again.

Evangeline wondered just what kind of girl she was.

** ** **

“Were they fighting?” Max had turned back to Billy leaning into his car. The cigarette smashed under his boot. An aimless shrug followed as the sky began to darken. Eyes fixed on were Evie disappeared to. Streetlights flipped on.

Smoke edged out Billy’s lips before he popped a mint. Woke his senses up.

Max peered at him in a winter coat that was too big for her. Looked like a marshmallow on fire with her red hair.

“You should go check…” She craned to listen for a raspy squeaking under the cold wind. “Hey. Do you hear that?”

“What?” Billy came off his car as she went to the back wheel.

“That crying.”

“Crying?” Billy turned, earring dangling to hear it. “What the hell?”

“Look, it’s…”

“A fucking huge rat trapped in my… Get out of there, you little shit.” He reached over the wheel and grasped trembling fur. Not caring if it bit him.

“Careful.” Max actually laughed at him grunting. Pulling a squirmy ball of matted fluff out to let it dangle there. “It’s not a rat! It's-"

"Ugly."

"It’s a scared kitten.”

“Feral thing. It’s just cold and hungry.” Billy watched the nubby paws flail around. It spat a grumpy hiss at him. “Probably lost its mom.”

Max went quiet at that. Billy sighed. Actually looked softer and cradled a dirty grey kitten close to his leather coat. Looking around.

“Little shit.” He broke while it chewed on his thumb. Round head and hungry, little body. Bright blue eyes.

“It’s a sign. Go give it to Evie.” The redhead smiled there. "She misses Bourbon.”

“Max, that’s...ah, a good idea.” He stood taller. Made a face. “When did you wise up?”

“Always been smart, you just never noticed.” She grew cheeky. “Don’t come home until Evie feels better.”

Max turned to go back up to the house. Billy exhaled at her, crossed around with the squirming beast. Thumb rubbing soothing circles into it.

"Look cute and friendly for a second, I want this girl to like me." Billy joked to the kitten, practicing a line to himself with a grin. "Hey, Angel, this cat's been on a journey to find you and I'm just getting it home. I am your destiny."

Three knocks. Some shuffling followed before the door cracked. Evie’s face was splotchy. She’d changed into a burnt orange sweater and black leggings.

Billy forgot all his lines.

“What-?” Evie didn’t have time to react before he was pushing a ball of fur at her chest.

“Here.” He gruffed. “Found it hiding in my car. Smells like exhaust.”

A raspy meow followed.

Evie stammered a few words he couldn’t even piece together. Eyes bulging at the squeaky thing he’d just shoved at her. Hands scrambled to take it.

“You lost your cat, we figured this one needed a home with someone batshit for cats. Know anyone?” Billy let her gape at him. Blinking several times, Evie tried to speak.

“I, uh...uh, okay. I guess I could...could…” She melted looking at it. "Aww..."

“Already likes you.” Billy watched the thing curl up and slow blink at its new mother. Evie sagged, licked her lips to marvel. Words came.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Wouldn’t have made it much longer out here without its mom.” He looked at the empty swing on their porch. They had one in California. His mom liked to sit on it and hum. On good days. “Mona leaving for the week?”

“Yeah, seeing her older sisters in New Orleans. It’s just me until next Sunday.” Evie was beaming at the kitten. Comforting it. “Poor thing needs a bath, it’s covered in grease.”

“Well, just don’t give it a stupid name like Cherry because we found it on Cherry Lane.” He paused, joking. “Or Camaro. Won't hurt my pride.”

Billy was turning to go down the steps. Evie bit her lip. Smiled softer.

“What about Blue?” She observed the kitten. “It’s a little girl.”

“Blue?” Billy laughed and peered back at her.

“For the color of your car. And her eyes.” And your eyes.

A grin crossed Billy’s lips.

“Not terrible.” He shrugged, leaving.

“Billy.” Evie stepped out onto the welcome mat. Saw him pause there against a sea of white. Illuminated. Obscene. Beautiful boy. “Did...you maybe want to help me get her set up? I was thinking of ordering pizza and heating some apple cider.”

“With caramel?”

“Obviously.” She shrugged. “If you wanted to come in…”

“Is this you forgiving me?”

“I’ll let you think I am.” Evie rolled her eyes and turned with Blue content in her arms. Billy flashed his teeth. Climbed the steps to follow after. Shut the door behind him.

** ** **

“I know, baby, I know.” Evie was washing dirt and grease from the squeaky creature’s fluff. “Poor thing. Hiding in that loud, scary car.”

“My car was its safe haven.” Billy had the phone pressed into his shoulder.

“Loud, scary machine.” She continued, amused. Let him finish the order and hang up.

“Extra cheese and pepperoni fine with you?” Billy crossed to the kitchen sink where Evie settled a tiny makeshift cat bath in.

“Sounds amazing. I didn’t eat much today…” She trailed off. Caught Billy’s eyes on her bruised arms again with her sweater pulled up. “He doesn’t hurt me. He’s just scared.”

“Men hurt worse when they’re scared.” Was all Billy said. Evie frowned, plucking up the wet kitten to bundle it in a towel.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” She continued. Cheeks fresh with strawberries. Lips upturned. Calmer while she nurtured it. Billy took note.

“Were you fighting with your mom?” He asked. Evie barely glanced at him.

“Not from my mom’s point of view.” Her head shook. “My...My dad called. I heard her telling him not to.” Evie’s eyes lifted. “How many times has he tried to call before? Has he even asked about me?”

“You get along with your dad?”

“He was gone a lot for work business, but we were close. Closer than my mom and I even. He was...really kind and affectionate. Always buying me things. Bringing little gifts home from his long work trips. I used to think he and my mom had this perfect marriage. Something out of an old sitcom.”

Evie didn’t like to touch these things. Especially not in front of others. But, Billy Hargrove was looking at her. Staring pointedly and unashamed. Something admirable there even if he liked to deflect from himself.

“I’m not sure now if my parents ever loved each other.” Billy had replied. Offering a sliver of himself to ease her pain. “Not sure if dad loves Susan either. But, she’ll do anything for him. I think he loves that. My mom stopped playing that game.”

Evie felt this ocean within her heart roll softly upon a shore. Echoing distant calls.

“Hey, that thing is almost cute now.” Billy’s quip made her snort. Huge, alien eyes blinked up at them.

“Probably just barely weaned off its mother. Little runt. I have some soft canned food for now until I can get to the store. Hope you’re okay with Bourbon’s smell in the house still.” Evie cradled the cat and reached into a cupboard. “Let’s get you set up in my room. Shall we?”

Billy perked as she looked to him.

“Pizza should be here when I’m done...did you want to pick a movie or something?” Hesitation had her feet shuffling. He could leave.

They seemed to both consider it. Why they were still here. Meeting each other halfway. Did it matter?

People can surprise you. All you can do is let them.

“What’d you have? Dolly’s collection.” He smiled at her expression there.

“Only on mom’s display. C’mere. Bottom shelf. Be amazed.” She cleared her throat as Billy entered the bedroom behind her. Neared one of the many bookshelves. This one covered in novels and VHS tapes. Evie set up a litter box and found some toys that hadn’t gotten much use. Let the kitten roam her bed and squeak. “Well?”

“I’m impressed with the selection. Carpenter, Craven, De Palma, Hooper… What’s a nice girl like you doing with all of Argento’s flicks?”

“Enjoying every minute.” She knelt down by Billy as he plucked up a tape, laughing.

“Evangeline Fenny owns The Slumber Party Massacre?”

“I love a shitty dumpster fire of a movie that can make fun of its own genre. And it was directed by a woman.”

“No way,” Billy turned it over, “jesus.” He pushed it back. “Sleepaway Camp, Carrie, Black Christmas, The Funhouse, Phantom of the Paradise. How about a classic... Michael or Leatherface?”

“Myers.”

“Leatherface is way better.” Billy grabbed Halloween.

“Psssh.” Evie plucked Blue up. “He can act like he is.” They went into the living room, paid for the food, and got set up. Movie, warm apple cider, and pizza. Not a date. Just a hang out. Plus the cat. Blue wandered the top of the sofa and tried to play with Billy’s curls.

“Hey, I saved your life, rat.” He leaned forward to bite into a gooey slice. Licking the grease from his lips. Evie giggled at him as the movie started. Technicolor and firelight bathed the dim room. Crackling peacefully.

Evie peered at Billy again, dressed down in a fitted black tee and jeans. She curled her sock clad feet up on the couch. Sighed.

“Is there anything pizza can’t solve?”

“My experience, sex solves whatever’s left.” Billy spoke around a mouthful of food. Earned himself a scowl.

“You pig.”

“I love it when you talk dirty,” he swallowed, wiping his mouth on a napkin, “you do this with the teacher?”

“Still prying.” Evie picked at some crust and went for another slice. “He makes me these fancy dinners. Wine and all. We watch mind numbing old movies. Most of them are three hours long about some boring old guy or they’re a documentary.”

“And that turns you on?”

“No, but Fredrick admires my mind, I like that. He asks me my opinion on things. That’s how we got closer. Through shared books.”

“Until he started prying into your home life and then your skirts.” Billy paused. “He liquors you up?”

“Not really, but sometimes it helps when we have sex.”

“Helps?” Billy set his plate down after four slices. One hand came back around the couch, neared Evie’s hair. Blue stumbled into his denim clad lap to get comfortable. “Does it hurt or something?”

“I don’t know, sometimes I can’t relax.”

“And he still has sex with you.”

“It’s not a big deal, Billy. I like sex.” Evie turned, speaking over the haunting instrumental on screen. Michael Myers stalking his prey. “It’s not like he popped my cherry or anything. He’s been there for me and I was his confidante too. We have things in common. He just got out of a bad relationship.”

“Yeah, and now he’s collecting on that. Listening to you.” Billy shrugged, reached to pat the kitten in his lap. Evie pressed her lips at the scene, shoulders sagging.

“It feels good with him. I do...feel safe after. Ever been with someone who makes you feel safe?”

There was a lingering beat of them staring. Eyes twinkled while the fire became tangerine embers.

“No, I can’t say that I have.” Billy scooped up the kitten, heard it chirp before he offered it to Evie. Scooting just a little closer to her while Blue got settled again. “Hey.”

“Hm?”

“You’re still here with me.” He smirked, staring at the TV.

“You’re running out of lines, heard that before.” Evie drew closer of her own accord. Felt Billy go impossibly still when her head tipped to his chest. A bold move on her part.

“Just a reminder.” He breathed slow. “What else is there to know about you, Evangeline?”

“Gotta ask questions.” She mused and became too serious. “Who are your favorite female role models?”

“What?” Billy chuckled, touching her curls.

“Mine are Gloria Steinem, Linda Marchiano, Katherine Johnson, and Sacheen Littlefeather. Oh, and Maya Angelou and-”

“Stevie Nicks?”

“Duh.”

“I was hoping this would be some easy questions. Like tell me about your favorite pornstar or the biggest dick you've ever seen?”

Her head came up.

"I'm looking at it right now." Evie's leveled tone had Billy bursting with laughter. She went down again. Pride built because he cackled as hard as he did.

"Okay, I back flipped my dumb ass into that one. Fuck." A finger wiped his eyes.

She felt him illuminate. Why was everything he did breathtaking? It felt almost unfair.

“Billy Hargrove can’t name a woman.” Evie sat up again, amused at his flat expression.

“Joan Jett and Debbie Harry and Etta-”

“You’re so trying to win me over with musicians.” She poked his chest and settled down against him. Tucked in.

“Is it working?”

“Maybe.” She smiled into his chest, inhaling that cologne he liked to bathe in. Aramis. Billy felt her grin and sucked in his cheeks. They continued watching for all of five minutes.

Evie shot up again to face him. Billy near shrunk at the staring.

“Do I have something on my face?” His brow rose.

“Okay, I’m asking it because I can't settle.” Evie touched her lips and narrowed. Blue cradled close with one hand while the other lifted to point. “I asked it before so don’t have a cow about it-”

“No, I don’t think we look funny together. That’s all you, babe.”

She deflated, hand dropping.

“How’d you know I was gonna say that?”

“You worry too much.” Billy spied the TV briefly. Peered back at Evie.

“I see the pretty girls you date, it’s hard not to think about it. You’re here, but are you here because you actually like me? Or is this some weird guilt thing set up from the lies you told earlier.” Evie batted her lashes.

“We have a week off of school and I’m eating pizza and watching a horror flick in the Fenny living room.” Billy’s head cocked while he explained. “Yeah. I lied. But, I like hanging out with you. Sue me.”

“This isn’t some weird conquest, is it?” She watched Billy scoff and shake his head before she shrugging. Voice growing lush. “Do you like my stomach?” He chuckled again, flicking golden hair aside before he drew his fingertips up her side. Earned a shiver.

“Yeah, it’s nice.” He said. Those fingers brushed her chin. “I’m still here with you. I still like it. Do you like it?” He licked his lips. Evie studied him and slowly came down. Nestled into his chest to consider it.

A small syllable.

“Yes.”

Billy’s arm shifted to rest upon her. Palm grazing her hip. Evie blushed. Wondering how his fingers would feel wandering between her thighs again. A burning chill pricked her skin. Billy inhaled that amber scent she was known for. Sighed. Thought about tracing her lips. Thought of her mouth on his neck. And then lower.

Fuck. Not now. Billy tried to breathe again.

“Billy?” Evie piped up after the lengthy beat.

“Yeah?” He shivered. Acutely aware of Evie’s body heat and beating heart against his frame. Her legs pressed into his thigh. Curled into him comfortably with Blue now snoring.

“I forgive you.”

A weight lifted off them both.

When he was dead silent, she went on.

“I called Bubbles, you know, to check on her after the whole Brock thing. Couldn’t stop laughing. She told me about that night. You punching him and the money. I know you’ve been trying to make it right and you don’t even have to. She said she saw you pull up and check on Brock’s date after looking for me. And I...I did really want to go to that motel with you. I haven’t had a night like that with a boy in… Well, never. Maybe we're not supposed to hang out, but it's stupid cause I like it-”

Billy cupped her chin and brought their lips together without ceremony. The intensity of a supernova charged his veins. Evie felt it too.

Blue scrambled up and pounced off them to the carpet. Away from Billy pawing for more of Evie. Until hands slid up his hard chest. Tasted the salt on his lips while she threaded fingers into his curls. A salted, caramel kiss from the cider. He roamed her body, unabashed.

Too many sensations. Stars busting. Waves hitting a rocky shore. Absolute fireworks exploding against a sapphire sky.

All those things that made a fairy tale magical. Happening in perfect sync.

Evie didn't shy as he touched her. Squeezed. Lips on her neck and back to her mouth.

Desire had her dancing in an endless dream.

“Billy…” Evie kissed him again. Deepened it all on her own. Pushed Billy back into the couch which earned a sound that was truly entertained. Enthralled.

Yes, she wanted him. It almost felt like she needed him and that didn't jar her one bit.

A hand palmed her bottom then tugged at her shirt. She heaved to come up. Blinking some awareness back.

“Let’s go to your room.” Billy came up for more. Fingers tucked hair aside. He nipped at her lip and Evie gasped.

“We can’t...I can’t. I’m still. I’m with him. I can’t be…” She slid off. Left Billy breathless there puffing. Throbbing. His pants already had the tiniest wet spot.

“But, you want to?” He shoved up. All fluttered. “It’s okay if you don’t.”

Evie curled herself into the smallest ball she could. Faced elsewhere.

“Yes.” She strained. Hugging herself close. “It’s not that I’m still mad. Fredrick even said I could… But, I know he doesn’t mean it. He’ll get upset and freak out thinking I told someone. He broke things off with me after summer and I never told anyone, but I know...he might have been just seeing if I’d come back. And I did.”

It seemed to hit her for the first time.

"I'm sleeping with my fucking teacher. Oh fuck."

“He’ll leave more bruises on you?” Billy stilled as she snapped to see him with glossy eyes. Face scrunching.

“I like it when he’s rough.”

“Because it helps you go somewhere else in your mind.” Billy huffed, leaning in. “When my dad… When he… Sometimes I like it when it’s hard. Because I press into walls and pretend I can sink into them.”

Evie thought of Fredrick and how he complained about her way of sleeping.

“He helped me and I helped him." A crack. "No one's ever gonna love me like he does."

He leaned in with intensity building.

"If he told you that, Evie, he doesn't love you." Billy uttered that too inordinate in sweetness. She almost shattered.

"He’s taught me things. He wants me... He sees a future and I think I can’t turn away from that.” She whimpered pitifully.

“Only thing he’s teaching you is how to give in and hate yourself quieter.” A cord struck so Billy eased it. “I’m not trying to make you feel like shit. You need to hear this.”

“He wants me, just me.”

“He wants his image of you! Does he tie you up? Some of those look like rope burns, Evie.” Billy slid in and grasped one hand.

She wiggled and didn’t pull away. Saw Billy’s eyes.

“Adults are supposed to fucking help us. Maybe he did at first, but he crossed a line with you because he couldn’t keep his weird fantasies in check. Of course he taught you things, you’re young..."

"It doesn't matter."

"All of it matters. What, does he liquor you up and make you watch porn? Point and ask why you can’t be more like those girls crying on screen because they’re moaning and sobbing and being pushed past their limits.”

“He says he loves me and he's proud of me. I like making him happy.” Evie made an odd shuddering sound. Lips pressing before something fractured distantly. “I can’t just leave him. I love him too, but-”

“But, what? There’s no such thing as an ‘I love you, but’…”

“I’m scared, Billy, and I’m so stupid.” Evie buried her face in her knees when the pressure built. Lost it.

Cried there in front of him. Hating herself for being so fragile and weak. It jarred Billy to see Evie Fenny truly hurt and terrified of this relationship she mooned over so often.

Trauma twisted you like fresh snow covering what was there before. Frozen solid to hide it with something that shimmered.

Arms lifted to bring her into his chest. Evie resisted on instinct and then melted down. Sobbed into his tee. Wet the soft fabric. Clung. Listened to Billy’s heart race.

“I don’t know what to do, he keeps talking about the future. Whisking me away and marrying me, I thought I wanted that. I’m supposed to, but I don’t.” Evie pushed up to wipe her red eyes. “He doesn’t even care about my music, he wants me to be a housewife. I can’t even fucking make descent pasta.”

She laughed bitterly at that.

“Fredrick wants all these kids and I don’t. I'm...I'm still a kid. Fuck, I..." Felt like she only just realized that too. "I don’t even have myself together, how could I put another kid like me into the world? And what if I get old and he finds another young girl with issues, huh, what happens then? I know it's all fucked, I do, but I can't stop it.”

“Evie, hey, look at me.” Billy was trying to cup her face. Met with more resistance as she couldn’t stomach looking him in the eye while crying. Evie backed out and wiped her face again. Swallowed the empty lumps in her throat. Tremoring. “You gotta leave this guy. He’s gonna get worse. You’re fucking shaking.”

“...I know.” She squeaked. “Sometimes I feel like I might shatter if I disappoint him. Have you ever felt like that?”

"Yeah. And I shattered anyway."

Billy Hargrove stopped dead. Displayed this blaring vulnerability that was miraculous on him.

Saw a girl in clear, ruby red danger.

"I'm just so tired, Billy, I never thought I'd be so tired at seventeen." Evie started to cling again and he let her. Fingers pulling for more of him and so he offered more in return. Tucked Evie under his chin. Still here with her.

Frankly, neither of them worried about that any longer.

“My mom didn’t leave my dad when she should have. Not early enough. He messed her up pretty bad. She had a lot of problems she never got over.” Billy cracked through the layers of volcanic rock hardened around his heart. She shifted to see him there. One finger drew the tears from her cheeks. Evie searched his eyes. Flickering. No longer hearing the screams on screen behind them.

“What happened to her, Billy?” She saw this star fall behind his eyes and wished she could have caught it.

Billy pulled her in closer until they were lying together. His mouth pressed into dark ringlets to murmur. Inhaling all the heat in her perfume. Honey amber.

“She died.” His lips cast too gentle syllables. Evie held him back. Tangled bodies.

Souls locking together without fear among dwindling embers.

"And I don't want you to die too."

~~~~~~~~

Thanks all for reading!!! As always, feel free to chat with me about Billy and Evie. Askbox and taglist are both open. ^_^ 🍓

@80sbxtch @nottherightseason @orxhidshavana @alagalaska @alongcamedolly @kellyk-chan @stanley--barber @10blurredsmoke10

#billy hargrove #Billy hargrove x oc #Billy Hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fic #mine #writing #SOMY #Billy x angel #angel fenny

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cowandcalf · 4 years

Text

Writer’s Month 2020 - To Find A Way

Epilog Ohana

Chapters 1 -13

Chapter 14

Three months later

Danny peels an orange and watches with amusement and a warm fuzzy feeling in this stomach how Aunt Deb conquers the kitchen at the McGarrett's house.

"Danny, be so kind as to hand me the spatula over there?"

"Where have you learned to cook for a whole crew?" Danny reaches over to hand her the cookware. He darts a quick look out the window. The backyard is crowded with all their friends and family who gathered today to celebrate a special ceremony for little Kalea. He hauls himself up to sit on the countertop neatly nestled in the corner out of Aunt Deb's way but still in the middle of things. He eats the luscious orange with delight, licking the juice off his fingers.

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She lifts her head and stretches to her full height, wiping a hand at the white apron. She smiles wisely with so much love, it warms Danny from head to toe. "I've spent years in the show business. Do you have any idea how starved we were after a performance on stage?" Aunt Deb's laugh comes deep from within her gut. It's so strange and unexpected Danny freezes, intrigued by this dazzling personality in front of him. Steve has the most fascinating relatives.

"You performed? On stage?" Danny askes with wonder in his voice. "As in dancer? Singer?"

"A singer and the dancing just happened. Hell, yeah, those were the good ol' days. Crazy, sometimes no money in the pocket but, God, did we love it. We had fire in our hearts and were ready to conquer the world. We had so much fun!" Aunt Deb's voice was filled with a hint of wistfulness. "But family is the most important thing in the world. I came home after my sister-in-law died. I wanted to be there for Steve and Mary. But – " She nods firmly over where Danny hangs on her lips not to miss a single moment, "yes, I and my crew often ended up hungry in the bar's kitchen where we had our gig. The best parties were celebrated in various kitchens. We knew some of the owners. They enjoyed a private concert while I made a late-night dinner for the whole team. Those were great and fun times. We could eat and entertain like no one else." She tells in a sparkling, enticing way that charms Danny on the spot.

Danny forgets to eat his orange and kind of jerks from the spell he's under when Mary floats into the kitchen. Her cheeks are pink and her eyes shine like stars. She looks beautiful and motherhood suits her well. She spreads happiness into the air like a new brand of air freshener.

"Aunt Deb's stories as a singer captivates everyone, right Danny?" She pats Danny's knee and flashes him one of those famous McGarrett smiles before she walks up to her aunt to hug her around the waist. "Aunt Deb is the queen of homemade food. She's famous for her roast and for the best stuffed turkey at Thanksgiving." Mary steals a sweet potato slice freshly out of the oven. "Mmm, God, it's pure manna! Tastes good, Aunt Deb." Mary pants to cool the hot vegetable in her mouth.

Aunt Deb chides her about eating with her fingers and makes her take a plate. Mary kisses her cheek and comes closer to lean into Danny.

"Where's your baby girl, Mary?" Danny snatches a piece from her plate.

"Steve's carrying her around. She's hungry and whiny. I need to feed her." Mary pricks Danny's finger with the fork to make him back off. "Those are mine. Have some of your own. You haven't even finished your orange. I'm hungry. I need to produce milk."

Danny chuckles and shoves the slice of warm, spicy-sweet potato in his mouth. It mixes with the taste of orange. "Whoa, these are madly tasty. You have to teach me how to get it that delicious, Aunt Deb."

Aunt Deb smiles knowingly and hums a melody. She turns when Steve walks in.

Danny's eyes are glued to how Steve gently cradles the youngest offspring of the McGarrett family in his arms – baby Kalea. Danny can't get enough of the soft and tender expression on Steve's face whenever he carries his niece. He's the proudest uncle Danny has ever seen, overprotective over both, mother and child. Kalea is embedded in a warm-hearted, wonderful family of which Danny and Grace and even Rachel and Stan are now a part of it too. It's overwhelmingly wonderful.

"Hey, Danny, here you are. I've been looking for you everywhere." Steve steers right into the corner where Danny still sits on the kitchen counter.

"Did you miss me?" Danny asks and strokes with a finger featherlight over Kalea's tiny head, wrapped protectively in a tiny cotton cap. "The best stories you always get waiting for the food in the kitchen."

"Aunt Deb rocks," Steve answers with a laugh. "I still love to listen to all her stories." Steve rocks his niece gently. She complains about how she feels with a small voice and lets everyone know she's upset. "Is she okay, Mary? I couldn't calm her." Steve sounds worried. "Kawika said she's just hungry."

"Yes, my sweet girl needs her milk. Look she searches with her mouth to find the food station but your dry as a desert, dear brother. Come, let's go upstairs. I need somewhere to sit comfortably and away from loud voices. She gets startled easily. I need her to drink quietly and afterward, she'll sleep peacefully."

Danny watches how Steve's cheeks flush adorably when Mary tells him how useless he's to a hungry baby with no milk to provide. "Go upstairs, Steve. Help Mary to get comfortable with cushions. Take Grace's and Nahele's pillows too. She needs to be all propped up with all kinds of support to relax.

"Okay, come on Mary," Steve signals with his head to head upstairs. "You can sit on our bed. It's big and it's quiet. No one will disturb you. I'll carry her. Eat up." Steve rubs soothingly over Kalea's back. She whimpers and pumps with her small legs. She's getting agitated.

Mary shoves the plate with the rest of her veggies into Danny's hand. "Let's go, Punk. She's working herself up into a mood. She's hungry. I don't want her to start crying. She would be too upset to drink. Come on, Steve. Let's go." Mary almost rushes outside.

Steve kisses the baby's head. "Sit tight, Danno. I'll be back."

Danny watches Steve leave the kitchen. He forces himself to slowly finish the rest of Mary's vegetables. He saves the three last slices of orange for Steve. Aunt Deb sings a wonderful, slow tune, immersed in getting the main course ready for the crowd. Danny knows she gives him the space he needs. No talking. He blinks furiously to clear his vision. Danny smells the grilled meat while he chews almost meditatively on a potato slice to make his chest unclench. Kamekona is the proud barbecue chef of today's family celebration. The animated chatter and the occasional outburst of laughter filters through the back door. It's the happiness that constricts Danny's throat and makes his chest uncomfortably tight. He's glad Aunt Deb doesn't want to pick a conversation.

Danny waits for Steve at the bottom of the stairs. He balances the three orange pieces on his palm. Everyone is somewhere else. He's alone for precious five minutes. He debates in his head if he should sneak upstairs to call for Steve to tell him he's about to go looking for the kids. He knows it takes time to feed a baby. Grace had trouble to suck properly and she was a slow drinker. Rachel never minded. She loved those bonding times with Grace. They were precious. She wanted them to last. Danny envied her for those moments, those most intimate moments when a mother breastfed her baby. It hurt him that he would never know how this might feel. It must be incredible and soul-altering beautiful.

He lifts his head. Steve silently comes down the stairs. His eyes find Danny's and Danny feels how Steve sinks into him, touching him on the inside like he always does in the same insane way.

"Hey, babe," Danny gets greeted with a soft press of lips, "how's it going? Is she drinking?"

"Yes, they're fine. I made sure Mary feels comfortable. I haven't checked but the sucking sound told me she soon will fall asleep with her little belly full of milk." Steve's cheeks are still colored pink.

"You didn't stay?" Danny leans into Steve's touch and welcomes Steve's tender, consuming kisses.

"I – no, I don't know. It didn't seem appropriate."

"Appropriate? Why? It's a mother breastfeeding her baby. The most natural and most wonderful thing in the world." Danny pulls back a little and sees how Steve's face is flushed.

"It's my sister, Danny. It's – I don't know, kind of too intimate to sit and to watch the baby suckle at Mary's nipple. Kawika is allowed to see this, not me, not her brother. I – " Steve gazes sheepishly at Danny, holding his face between his large, rough hands. "Did you watch Rachel and Grace?" He asks a bit breathless.

Danny's face lit up in a warm smile. "Yes, I did. It was beautiful, full of love and peace. It hit me every time how powerful this simple act of deep love is. A mother nurtures her baby like women have done over centuries."

Steve's eyes take him in, wander over his face. "You're so special. Do you know this, Danny?"

Danny breathes in Steve's scent when Steve drags his lips along his cheek to get to his eyes, giving him butterfly-light kisses on his closed eyelids. Steve pulls him into a hug. "I kinda felt excluded, too." Danny adds, "and sometimes I was jealous of not having this deep bond with my daughter. As a man, you miss out on so much intimacy but I loved to sit there and be a part of something bigger."

Steve rests his chin on Danny's head. "Mary said it was okay if I wanted to stay. She's such a great mother. I'm so happy for her and Kawika. But still. I guess it was too much. I felt a bit overwhelmed, to be honest." Steve mumbles into Danny's hair.

"Eat a slice of orange. It helps to deal with the overload." Danny brings his hand up and Steve turns his head.

Danny sighs when Steve doesn't let go but signals him to bring his hand to his lips. He pulls his abs taut when Steve's lips graze over his palm to catch the orange pieces. He chews and swallows and smiles at him. Steve's tongue licks the juice from Danny's palm. "Steve, you gotta stop this – "

"Why? No one's here. Just us." Steve sucks Danny's digit into his mouth and runs his tongue alongside with a glint in his eyes.

"Hold this thought," Danny tries to free his captured finger. He feels the heat spread into his groin. Steve gets this heated look. He smiles lasciviously when he grabs Danny's wrist and holds it firmly. "Steve," Danny tries a stern tone and fails completely. "Give me back my finger. Don't be a dick. The backyard is full of guests. Aunt Deb is cooking in the kitchen." Danny hisses but laughs and maybe he also moans.

"Make me," Steve says with a smoky voice.

"Make you what?" Danny's hips push forward. Not good.

"Make me give you back your finger." Steve mumbles. His mouth sucks at Danny's finger, running his tongue like velvet over the finger buried in his mouth.

"Jesus, Steve! I can't sport a hard-on at a family gathering. Your father is outside. Maybe he's already looking for us." Danny grasps at straws. He laughs at Steve's expression and how that magical word sobers him up instantly. He gives Danny his finger back.

"That was a mean one," Steve says with a gruff voice.

Danny's amused and flattens Steve's already flat shirt with his other hand. "Don't challenge me, big guy," he grins. "Have you seen the kids recently?"

Steve wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand. "Not since I've stepped into the kitchen with Kalea. I told Kamekona to keep an eye on them. I mean, Rachel and Stan are still outside. So are Kono, Chin, Kawika – everyone keeps an eye on Grace and Nahele and they're with Jeanne. They don't go far."

"Come, I need to wash my hands. I wanna know what they've been plotting. They've become so wild." Danny grabs at Steve's shirt and pulls him in for another kiss. "And then we spent some time with your father."

Danny calls out to the crowd gathered around the colorfully decorated tables. "Hey everyone, have someone spotted the kids and Jeanne? I haven't seen them in a while."

Kamekona points with the burger spatula in the direction where the beach is. "Don't worry, Danny, the keikis are with gramps at the beach."

"Gramps?" Steve snorts walking behind Danny.

"Your father, grandpa McGarrett, Steve," Kawika comes up to stand beside Steve. He throws an arm around his shoulder and heartedly pats his chest. He grins like a loon.

"You worry too much, Danny," Kono calls over where she's invested in a conversation with Rachel.

"I worry too much?" Danny mocks indignation. "They always turn up without their shirts or shorts. Wet and sandy, although they know they aren't allowed to be even near the ocean. And there are sharks out there!" Danny complains, pointing with his outstretched arm to the wild sea that sloshes against their doorstep.

"Danny, you're overdramatic. They're never alone near the water. They're not that silly to walk into the surf." Rachel answers with a soft voice and a laugh.

Danny's eyes are wide. Rachel sits relaxed in a comfortable chair with a pillow stuck behind her back. She has a flower tucked behind her ear and Stan watches her with a stupidly happy smile. Pregnancy suits her well. Grace is going to have a sibling soon. Danny inhales deeply. "You're not allowed to do that, Rachel. She's your daughter, too. You have to be on my side. "

"I'm on your side, Daniel and as I said, don't be so dramatic. John is with them. They're alright."

"There are no sharks out there, Danny. I'd feel them. Your keikis are safe." Mamo's soothing voice comes from the other side of the table.

"I don't even want to know how you would sense if there were sharks swimming around." Danny's brows are furrowed. He's not yet used to all the Hawaiian mambo jambo about 'the sea speaks to me' and 'the wind tells me when to hang my laundry to the west' and 'when it's the right time to plant the seeds because the earth is ready to embrace her children'. Steve has told him that once and he still can't wrap his mind around how someone could feel that.

"Wait until you see the surfboards I've made for Grace and Nahele," Kawika informs everyone.

Danny sputters and turns around. He points with a fierce finger at Kawika and jabs his left pec hard. "Don't. You. Talk. About. Freaking. Surfboards.!" Jab, jab, jab. "What is wrong with you?" Danny calls Rachel for help. "Rachel! Tell me you haven't agreed to that crazy plan?"

"Kono and Mamo are with them. Kawika surfs since he's a child. We're in Hawaii, Danny. Surfing is the way of life here." Rachel smiles gorgeously and leans back against her fluffy pillow.

"Who are you?" Danny stammers.

"Danno," Steve's beloved rumble makes Danny keep his balance. "No shark will eat one of our kids. They will see the dolphins, as I have promised. And we will start in the shallow water. Mamo knows the sea like no one else. Trust the locals. Grace and Nahele will be fine."

Danny kind of deflates and leans into the invisible support Steve provides. "Okay, okay. One step at the time."

Kawika has still his arm around Steve's shoulder. He looks like he's completely drunk on happiness. "How's Mary and my baby. They okay?"

Steve's moved easily these days. Danny gets all the mushy vibes Steve gives off. He tries to keep a solid frame but it suits him well to be all gooey on the inside while the outer shell is a rock-hard and muscled and fierce as always. "Yes, Mary's fine. Your little one drinks as if there's no tomorrow." He squeezes Kawika's hand. His gaze drifts off to the beach. "So, you're telling me my dad is at the beach with Grace and Nahele?"

"Oh look, here they come!" Danny shouts and waves back when Grace calls his name. "And here we go. What have I told you? No shirts, sandy and wet."

They walk closer. Nahele and Grace hold on to John's hands. He leads the kids up to where everyone waits. Grace bounces excitedly and Nahele giggles his sweet laugh with his head thrown back.

"What – " Danny can't hide his smile either. The kids are so loose and content, "what happened to your shirts?" Danny's hand makes a complicated move. He also stares at John McGarrett. His pants are rolled up to his knees and the rim of his pants is wet. They have been in the water. "Hey, John, thanks a lot for taking care of them."

"No worries, Danny, it's a joy to be with them. We had fun, right kids?"

"Yesss!" Nahele shouts and shoves the shells he has found at the beach into Danny's hands. "Keep them for me."

"Where's your shirt, young man?" Danny tries to give him a stern look. But God, he's so irresistible with his smile and he's Grace's best friend.

"I gave it to Grace."

"Why?

"She likes it. Jeanne needed a shirt too." Nahele sighs dramatically as if Danny asks to most boring questions. "I'm hungry." He whines.

"Go wash your hands, put on a new shirt. You know where they are. In your dresser, bottom drawer. And you too, Grace. You know, I could buy you a spiderman shirt any day if you wanted one." He has tried so many times but her answer stays the same.

"I like wearing Nahele's shirts. He doesn't mind." She peeps and pulls at her pigtails before she runs after Nahele.

"And why needs the dog to wear your shirt?" Danny calls after his daughter. He darts over to watch Jeanne panting with Grace's pink glitter shirt and the lettering 'be a princess'. Sometimes, Danny can't get rid of the feeling that this sweet dog grins at him.

"Jeanne likes pink!" Grace screams back. Nahele almost topples over when the fit of giggle tears through his sun-kissed body. Grace laughs along with him and together they bounce into the living room. Wild and carefree.

Danny shakes his head and smiles. Steve steps up behind him and pulls him close. Steve can't form words when too many emotions constrict his throat. "Let's eat. Come on, dad. You look hungry too. Thanks for hanging out with them."

"We had fun," John repeats before he awkwardly but affectionately pats Steve's shoulder to stroll off to sit beside his wife.

"Let's eat, folks!" Aunt Deb shouts and claps her hands to get everyone's attention. "Lunch is served!"

Steve sneaks stealthily out of bed not to wake Danny. Grace is with Rachel and Nahele sleeps at his sister's house. It's only Danny and him. Steve doesn't need much sleep. The nightmares aren't tearing that often through his mind anymore. He can rest while he sleeps but the uneasy feeling when he lies awake in bed stays. Healing can't be rushed he has learned the hard way. It's better to get up, drink some water, watch the ocean, and waits until his limbs get heavy again to crawl back under the cover to be with Danny for a few more hours.

The beaten, old chest of his grandfather is heavy. He pulls it carefully from under the bench where it's stashed close to the window. The lid opens soundlessly. He holds the simple wooden box for a moment before he flips the lid open. The dog tags with his name rest there in the same heap of a coiled up chain. Two small plates with his name stamped in lie on top, just the way he has left them the last time he held them. His grandfather's dog tags are in the second, identical wood box right there where he has put them.

Steve strokes the metal with his fingers before he takes it out to hold it, to run it through his fingers, to refresh the sense that ripples through him whenever his fingertips make contact with his past. He gets lost in thoughts. He still misses it, the team, the thrill, and the purpose. The drill, the way of life that leaves no gap to think about anything else but about the next step in the mission, the training. Being a SEAL will forever be carved in his bones no matter the damage it has brought being part of missions, doing the job of an elite soldier.

Plants and seedlings have been his lifeline back to life, have held him upright when he didn't know how to make it through the day, how to make a life out of the Navy. Until Danny came along to buy one of his plants. And he sold it to the guy he hasn't known back then but to whom his heart has answered without his consent. Everything has changed after that.

It's time to move on. Kamekona and Mary have taken over his flower shop. They have plans to develop a business but are serious about how they want to run it with economical sustainability. And Steve – Steve has finally accepted the Governor's offer to run a task force. He has needed time to think about it but he's ready now. The support group helps to understand his issues and to deal with them. That's the reason he took the dog tags from the wall to keep them safe, out of sight because he doesn't need to look at them to drag him through the day. He's ready for action and stress and pressure. He needs it like air to breathe.

He carefully and slowly puts the dog tags back into the wooden box. He closes the lid and hides the boxes where they belong. It's a ritual. It's important. Each movement is accurate, dedicated, and executed with humbleness.

Steve drinks the glass of water in complete silence and gazes out to the black mass of water. He doesn't make a sound. Kono and Chin will come by for breakfast. Danny got a bit antsy when Steve didn't come out with the truth about that meeting. He got suspicious but Steve made him shut up and made him moan instead. Thoroughly fucked and tired Danny was out cold without the change to pepper him with questions.

They are going to be a team and as a team, Steve wants to inform all of them at once. HPD won't be happy to lose three good cops in one day. Hawaii needs their best and Steve and his team will be the best. The smile that spreads his lips feels damn good.

Steve climbs back into bed and curls around Danny's warm body. He's excited and the well-known, much-missed vibration of strength makes it difficult the fall asleep. He's finally back. Steve kisses Danny's neck and buries his face in the soft curve of Danny's strong shoulders.

THE END

#writersmonth2020 #h50 #mcdanno #fic rec #work complete #i did it #cowandcalf writes #wow #it's a wrap #chapter is dedicated to alohaspaceman #she made a crazy great edit for my story #yay #I'm so exhausted #like i've done a huge exam #i'm so proud

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stutterfly · 5 years

Text

Love Bytes 06 | Boolean Logic | KNJ (M)

Last time on Love Bytes 05: Your friends have good intentions when eavesdropping on your first tinder date. When things don’t go exactly as you imagined, there’s comfort to be found elsewhere. A charming gesture takes your breath away and you find yourself dangerously close to crossing a line you’d never thought of before.

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Word Count: 12.8K

Series: Love Bytes (6/?)

Genre: F2L, fluff, humor, SLOW BURN, friendship feels, ANGST! pining, sexual tension, smut, Bestfriends!au, CollegeProjessor!Namjoon, S O F T Namjoon, did i mention slow burn??? :)

CW: anxiety, panic attacks, some negative self-talk, dirty talk, teasing, grinding, dry-humping

Pairings: Namjoon x Reader, brot7 masterlist // previous chapter // next chapter

Do not repost.

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It’s been twenty minutes since Seokjin barged into your apartment and started listing all the things you did wrong on your date. You’d be mortified if you hadn’t already dealt with Yoongi earlier in the evening, telling you much of the same. He’d already covered the basics of looking at your date and given you a touching pep talk about knowing your worth. You’d be double mortified if not for the fact that you’re slightly distracted.

Not even thirty seconds before Jin walked in, you’d willingly put Namjoon in a position to grope your tits and it’s been on a relentless loop that surfaces between every other word Jin has to say. Kim Namjoon. Dorky professor? Firewall enforcer? Clumsy bestie? Thorn in your goddamn side? It’s only consuming every bit of brainpower as you wordlessly nod along to Jin’s lecture about the importance of posture in showcasing one’s demeanor.

Namjoon has been sitting across the room with a plate of half-eaten food before him, growing more amused by the tale Jin spins of your disastrous behaviors. He’s blowing everything way out of proportion, but you can’t muster the energy to fight him on it, not when the gears are grinding so hard to form a solid reasoning behind your earlier actions. But every time your eyes gloss over and you replay the scene in your mind, your stomach forms knots that cause you to repeatedly cross your legs over one another. You’ve done it at least three times now and both men have definitely noticed so you’re consciously fighting the urge to repeat the action.

Jin attributes it to your fidgety nature, tying it back to the way you had squirmed under the scrutiny of your date. “Y/N, I don’t think you’re really getting it. I need you to pretend we’re on a date. Here. Namjoon, be the observer.”

“Gladly,” Namjoon replies, happily slurping up a mess of noodles and fixing his gaze on your reaction.

You don’t even bother wasting a glance on the man on the floor as Jin angles his body towards you. He folds a leg over his lap, plants an elbow on the back of the sofa and rests his cheek on his palm as he leans towards you. The famous panty-dropping smoulder makes an appearance and you can’t help but feel a bit flustered by the intensity he brings to the charade. Your shoulders raise like they might shield you from the attack of such a gorgeous face. “Tell me about yourself, Y/N.”

This is torture.

You drum your fingertips on your thighs and look down at them briefly before remembering your conversation with Yoongi. Nervous eyes tear themselves away from the stubble coming in on your kneecap, forcing you to focus on the piercing gaze of Seokjin.

“Well…” you begin, fully intending to let this play out, but freeze once your eyes land on his face. “Why do you look angry? I can’t talk to you when you look like that.”

“What do you mean? Do I really look angry to you?” Jin’s brow sinks even lower towards the bridge of his nose.

Stifling a giggle, you nod and smack your lips. “It’s good practice if I ever go on a date with grumpy cat. So cute, yet so grumpy.”

You boop him on the nose and he swats your hand away. “Are you going to tell me about yourself or continue to dishonor the memory of grumpy cat?”

A sigh passes your lips. “I don’t know what to say,” you finally admit with a wince. “My life is so boring. Like, what am I supposed to say? Hi, I’m Y/N. I work on people’s computers all day and answer boring emails and support calls. In my free time I like getting drunk and laughing at videos of cats falling off of things, playing video games with friends --most of which are men by the way, is that cool?-- and going for walks at sunset.” You pause and let him take that in. “Ooh, or should I be like every generic profile I’ve seen? I like going on adventures! Hanging with friends! Living my best life. I’m an old soul. Here for a good time, not a long time! EL OH EL hit me up on Snapchat.”

The animated nature of your features quickly fades as you slump against the cushions. “I mean and here I thought I was boring as fuck. But Chul comes along and actually proves to me that I can be topped. And not in the yummy dom way.”

Namjoon chokes on a piece of pork and smacks his chest a few times, successfully dislodging it from the back of his throat.

Jin curiously roams his eyes across your face, flickering back and forth between your eyes and lips. “Ah, so... you prefer to be the sub?”

A heat rises to your cheeks and you know answering is a trap, but the longer his question hangs in the air the more flustered you become. “Are-Are you kidding? Like I’m gonna be the sub. You know I have to control everything.”

Lies are easier to tell when they’re coated with a layer of truth, no matter how thin that layer may be.

“True.” Namjoon swallows, the remnants of his cough sputtering from his mouth.

Jin considers your answer for a moment and grins, flashing you his pearly whites. “So you dom then? What’s that like?”

The other man in the room dribbles water onto his shirt at the question. He’s about ready to give up on breathing altogether. Jin knows it, too. That’s what makes this game so much fun.

You drag your teeth across your lip, trying not to think about the implication that Jin is also not a dom. “So! Enough about me. Tell me about yourself, Jin.”

With that, Seokjin snaps his fingers and points at you. “Ding ding ding! We have a winner! People love to talk about themselves. If you’re out of ideas on what to talk about, ask your date something about himself based on whatever random information you have. Give him a chance to impress you. Take me, for example. I am the head chef at Heart & Seoul, where I give everyone a taste of my heart … and soul. Everyone who has ever tried my food says it reminds them of home. You should come by sometime. I’ll make a plate special for you, courtesy of the handsome god of cookery.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, that’s certainly a statement.”

“Ask me about my food!” he prods, nudging you with his elbow. “Don’t you want to know what kind of plate I’d make for you?”

“Jin, I already know your food is good. I don’t need to ask--”

“It’s Barbe-cute,” he blurts, clearly proud of himself.

“You’re so…” You try to finish the thought but start laughing as he breaks into his own windshield-wiper cackle. A defeated half sigh, half grumble follows the trail where your laughter leaves off. “I just feel like this is the worst part, you know? Trying to explain to people who I am and why I matter. It’s like, on one hand, I don’t care! This is awful! And I don’t have to prove anything to anyone. But then… on the other hand… What if they don’t like me? Like Chul? Chul made up his mind the moment he saw me in person. He didn’t like me and I don’t know that there’s anything I could do to change that. I feel so stupid! ‘Cause I’m like, bro, didn’t you see my photos? Didn’t you look at my profile? Like why you gotta be so judgy when we talked all day?”

The man on the couch next to you uses his large hands to anchor the wrists that you’ve unconsciously been waving around during your tirade. “Okay see, this is what I’m talking about. You need to slow down and stop waving your arms whenever you speak. Imagine you’re a sloth. Slooow motions.” He uses his grip to slowly push you back against the cushion. “Relax.”

You puff air out of your lips indignantly. “Jin, I can’t. I’m not wired like a sloth. I’m more of a...a...” You shake your head, unable to find the word you’re searching for.

“Hummingbird,” Namjoon chimes in quietly, rapidly flapping his fingers up and down to mock you.

Jin laughs at the comparison, pushing you back against the seat when you begin to rise. “Oh, little hummingbird. Sit. Stay.”

Your brow furrows and a pout stains your lips as you comply, rigid shoulders resting flush against the couch.

“Good girl,” Namjoon adds with a snicker.

Ignoring the excitement stirring in your belly at the words, you narrow your eyes at him and he clutches his heart. “Oh wow if looks could kill…”

You finally sigh, dragging your hands down your face. “Jin, I get it. I suck at everything.”

“Oh don’t start that,” he scowls, jabbing your knees with a bony finger. “You’re perfectly fine. You may be a mess but you’re actually a very adorable mess.”

“Fuck off.” You wriggle away from his touch, grimacing at the nod of agreement Namjoon sends your way. “Both of you.”

“I mean it.” Jin laughs between words. “You are a delight, Y/N. Just because you have things you need to work on doesn’t make that any less true. And I'm only telling you that you need to work on these things because you are my dear, dear friend. I want to see you succeed and live your best life." He cocks his head to one side and gives Namjoon a pointed look while you're distractedly glowering. "Especially if you're dating another mess of a human, maybe someone even worse than you. Someone has to have manners. You can't both be terrible at everything."

Jin's eyes snap back to your face as he becomes the focus of your deadpan stare. "Thanks for the pep talk.”

A hand clasps your shoulder and the weight of his arm drapes across the expanse of your back. He uses his grip as leverage to press you against his torso as he scoots closer to you. "Oh, it's okay. You just have to stop trying to knock your date out. Just try to focus on that one thing for your next one okay?”

“I kind of don’t want a next one,” you grumble, allowing your cheek to fall against his collarbone. “Not if it has to feel this bad after every time.”

Wisps of his hair tickle the side of your face as he shakes his head close to yours and tightens the hug. “You don’t give up! You can’t give up! Trust me when I say the next will be better!”

You hum a doubtful note against the fabric of his shirt and push him towards the opposite end of the couch. “If you say so.”

“I know so,” he replies matter-of-factly, catching the antsy circles the chopsticks in Namjoon’s hand are drawing in the noodles left on his plate.

Just like that he begins to feel guilty. There’s something going on here, and he can’t quite put his finger on it, but there’s no doubt in his mind that he truly walked in on something he wishes he hadn’t. They’ve all been waiting for him to make a move and now it’s possible that he’s trying. Today was a dud but one thing is certain: it would be so sad to see him lose you to a stranger because he’s too scared to elicit change. Namjoon isn’t going to outright ask him to leave, but it’s written all over his face. Maybe it’s time to let whatever developments have obviously been happening between you two continue.

With a loud sigh and stretch, Seokjin rises from the cushions and makes his way to the door. “Well, I think I’ve made my point. I should get going though. Don’t let this experience bother you too much.”

You spring from the couch and catch the door as he opens it. “I’m fine. Really.”

He shoots you a questioning look but you pull him into a quick hug that allays most of the tension within it. Namjoon unfolds his legs and stands as you exchange goodbyes with Seokjin and usher him out of your apartment with a tired smile.

The door finally closes with a dull thud. Your shoulders deflate with the air in your lungs as you turn the heavy deadbolt. Namjoon’s palms find purchase on the precipice of your shoulders, fingers dipping softly into the crevasse made by your collarbones. You melt back into his touch, throwing your head into his chest when the pleasurable chill of the massage works its way down your spine.

“You don’t have to do that. I’m not that stressed. Really,” you weakly attempt to reason with him, silently wishing he’d never stop. A moan rumbles in your throat, making your brain go numb.

“I know,” he mumbles while continuing the controlled movements of his fingertips. “Fist of Fury sounding good?”

“Mmm, I was thinking about something with more comedy.”

“Way of the Dragon then?” he suggests, gently leading you towards the couch in a slow waddle.

“Please don’t make me watch it in English,” you groan, shuffling in time with his strides. “I don’t think I can take that dub again.”

“Fine, fine. Hold up.” He offers an amused smile as he pushes you towards the sofa as he searches for the DVD in question.

The loss of his touch leaves a chill in its wake and you instinctively pull on the fuzzy blanket scrunched into the gap between cushions. You drape it across your torso and bury your arms underneath just as Namjoon pops the DVD into the xbox below the television. He mindlessly grabs a controller, flicks the lightswitch, and shoves the nearby ottoman with his foot until it’s closing in on the sofa. You react before it can hit your shins.

As he flops onto the cushion beside you, the sensation of your legs brushing against each other has you leaning towards him with a shiver. The startup screen highlights his face as you lift the blanket, offering coverage despite feeling the heat radiating from his body. You just want to feel someone next to you. Much to your surprise, he accepts the offer and huddles in, pressing your bodies close together.

Quelling the shakiness of your exhale, you reach over to grab the controller from his lap. Instead the muscles of his thighs flex as your hand drags across them. You’re already apologizing as you jump in place, retracting your hand as quickly as possible while fumbling to look for the controller. He looks down at your hand and then back up to your face, silently pursing his lips as he drops the controller into your palm.

"Sorry," you mumble again as you navigate through the menus, not daring to peek over at his face.

"Don't worry about it," he whispers, sprawling an arm over the couch cushion behind you. His fingertips lazily tap against the contour of your shoulder, wishing that the t-shirt was smaller, thinner, something that could expose more of your skin beneath the blanket.

You fail to contain the deep inhale that causes your chest to rise and slowly breathe out the nerves constricting your lungs. As you start the movie and set the controller on the armrest, you turn your head to look at him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he parrots back at you. The warmth of his leg presses into your thigh, serving as a reminder of the wetness between yours.

“About earlier, I…” you trail off, unable to finish the statement. The needy touch-starved thoughts haven’t yet worn off and you curse your brain for letting you taint your friendship with impure thoughts of the man beside you. How could you possibly tell him that you weren’t thinking clearly before when you still want him to touch you, when your pussy clenches any time he pushes his body against you? The familiar sound of the title music fills the silence.

“Don’t worry about it,” he repeats softly. “Let’s just… watch Bruce Lee, hmm?”

His words somehow simultaneously bring you comfort and disappointment. You smile and nod, shifting your attention back to the television, though you can feel the feathery touch of his fingertips flirting with the hem of your sleeve seconds later. As you shift in your seat to relax your head against him, that same touch trails up your shoulder to brush a mess of hair from your neck before settling comfortably in the space between them. You chuckle at the old woman staring down Bruce Lee as your eyelids grow heavy. There’s no way you were even going to make it five minutes in, but you attempt it anyway.

“She lookin’ at him like a snack.” You’re relying on your thirst to keep yourself awake. “I agree.”

Namjoon snorts. “She’s looking at him like she’s gonna call the cops. Are we watching the same movie?”

“My bad. I’m self-inserting for granny,” you murmur, voice growing wearier by the syllable.

“Are you already falling asleep? We can watch it another night if you’re tired.” You can feel his eyes boring into the top of your skull as your eyelashes flutter against his chest.

“No,” you argue weakly, not bothering to lift your head to meet his gaze.

“I can feel you closing your eyes.”

“No,” you say again with a slight shake of your head that doubles as an excuse to nuzzle into the warmth of his chest.

“So if I took my phone out right now and snapped a pic, your eyes wouldn’t be closed?”

“Nope.”

“Not nice to lie,” he teases softly, smoothing the hair back from your forehead.

“Shhh, don’t talk during movies. You’re missing the part with the soups.”

He cradles your head with a scoff, resisting the urge to impart a goodnight kiss to the top of it as you obviously doze off. Your arm falls into his lap with the sound of a dull ‘pat’. Immediately his hand carefully draws yours away from the danger zone and sets it loosely over his. The gentle twitch of your digits against his palm beckon him to lace your fingers together. Butterflies wrack their way through his stomach and he soon complies, giving your hand a gentle squeeze as he does so.

Do you realize what you do to him? Probably not. Being here feels like walking a tightrope that he keeps wobbling back and forth on. But leaving would kill the adrenalin rush and leave him with nothing. He’d take the highwire any day if it meant there was a chance you could be waiting on the other side.

He’s determined to make it further into the movie, and he has every intention of nudging you awake, but not even five minutes later his eyelids droop and his neck bends back over the top cushion.

Just a few minutes. I’ll wake her up in a few minutes.

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The change in volume from the end credits to the top menu of the DVD catapults you from slumber. You groan as you crane your stiff neck up towards the open-mouthed, snoring man whose warm chest you’ve been napping on. The grin creeping across your face threatens to break into a giggle, but you muzzle the sound before it can leave your throat.

The haze of sleep still clouds your mind and as your eyes travel up the dark skin that stretches up to his jaw, empty cravings for intimacy permeate the fog. Your head lolls back down and you scrunch your cheek against the base of his throat with a shaky exhale before turning towards him. You skim your lips over the muscles in his neck, shivering at the thought of pressing down. Pushing away the growing urge to suction your mouth down on his flesh, you lightly tap the side of his cheek. “Joonie.”

He groans loudly as he lifts his head off the cushion, but offers no other words of acknowledgement. Discomfort spreads across his features, brow knotting as he palms the back of his sore neck. His other hand firmly wraps itself around your knuckles, subconsciously dragging your palm across his lap as he stretches his limbs out. Heavy arms come back down and constrict you in a sleepy hug; the comfort it brings threatens to take you back into the world of slumber, but you shake off the impulse to close your eyes again.

“I’m gonna go to bed,” you announce softly against his white t-shirt, basking in the warmth of his embrace.

He peers down at you through dark, half-lidded eyes and struggles to bring a response to the forefront of his mind. You trace your fingers along the contours of his jaw, causing him to lean into your sleepy caress. Before you can register the movement, his lips graze the precipice of your forehead and your stomach lurches into a somersault at the sensation. Wait. Did he just...?

The bubble of his dream-state finally pops. Suddenly everything feels too real. His eyes widen and his heart drops, desperately wishing he could awaken from this moment panting and sweating within the confines of his bedroom. Is there a chance you’re not aware of his embarrassing mistake? He pulls back and the sharp sound of his lips smacking together awkwardly fills the room as the menu loop resets.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, abashed features straining to look anywhere else. “I’m gonna go.” He shifts uncomfortably, wriggling out from beneath your form, but your fingers reach out and curl around the solid mass of his forearm.

“Stay,” you whisper. “Please?”

You can’t fight the way your heart is pounding, desperate to feel the tickle of butterflies in your stomach at least one more time, to find your hand enveloped in his warm, comforting grasp. Deep, dark eyes settle on yours, searching for any excuse to decline such a tempting offer. When he comes up empty, you also find yourself at a loss for words and you shake your head, trying to come up with some explanation for the blurry lines you’ve been drawing all over your friendship with him.

You rationalize that it’s not crazy to find comfort in the arms of a good friend. How many times has Jennie kissed your forehead without meaning anything by it? How many times have you held hands with her and platonically snuggled up together? Is it really so different now that Namjoon is the one beside you?

Your mind flashes back to the moments leading up to Seokjin’s arrival. You were the one to guide him towards you. Your lips never touched, and you refuse to accept the fraction of your brain that screams of its disappointment. The fact that you got close enough to expose the possibility of Namjoon as a makeout partner is a thought you’re struggling to bury. That’s what makes him different. That’s what makes it difficult to let him leave.

You know it’s selfish, but there’s a shred of something that you can’t allow yourself to acknowledge. Until you fill the void of a relationship in your life, or sex at the very least, maybe this is exactly what you need. It’s harmless, really. Just a comforting snuggle buddy. It’s harmless... right? You ask yourself again, the echo of his heavy breaths fresh in your mind. The memory plays again: one hand clasps around his neck and pulls him down towards you, the other guiding him teasingly towards the lace of your bra as your noses brush against each other; it’s enough to set your cheeks on fire but not enough to retract the offer.

“Don’t leave. Please, just… Just lay with me again?” you plead quietly. Could you sound more pathetic? There’s never been a more appropriate time to wish you were built like a computer, or at least something you could flush the short term memory from, but here you are: painfully human and seeking complacency.

You keep your eyes fixed on him as you rise, his expression never falling into the expected air of pity. Shock. Confusion. Maybe even relief. But never the pity you anticipate. The television coats his features with a soft glow and your shoulders instinctively relax as his smile molds shadowed dimples along either side of his mouth. The word of affirmation that escapes him is barely audible over the sound of the tv.

The room grows dark and silent all too fast as you tap the power button on the back of the screen. Warmth radiates from his hand as it trails down your arm, finally twining itself between your fingers as he waits for you to lead the way. Of course he’s memorized the steps to your bedroom, but he’s not about to let impatience reveal the alacrity within.

It’s no trouble to navigate in the darkness and you find yourself needlessly tugging him closer. You’re quick to hide your own eagerness under the guise of fatigue, forcing a loud yawn from your mouth as you flop back into the center of the bed. He stumbles forward a bit before catching himself on the soft mattress, quietly climbing onto it as though the weight of his body will shatter its molecular structure.

Tonight the moon is blocked by the clouds in the sky, and the unusual pitch black nature of the room is a little unnerving. It’s easy to imagine shadows moving when you can’t see anything clearly. Before you can burden yourself with unnecessary anxiety, Namjoon’s palms are dipping into the mattress on either side of you, parallel to your waist. You can feel him ascending like a silent panther, closing in on his prey. Stale air hitches in your throat as he hovers above you, a delicately placed knee sinking into the space between your thighs.

The heat from his core sears shameful desire into the surface of your flesh and you attempt to close your legs. The inside of your soft thighs squeeze against the unexpected muscular mass of his, trapping him just below the wetness you’re refusing to acknowledge. It doesn’t take long for you to become keenly aware that if he leans any further up he will be wearing it and you press your legs even tighter together, despite knowing the barrier of muscle between them makes the task impossible.

Your palm reaches up to find his face, curling under his jaw to cup his chin in a playful venture to diffuse the tension in the air. It’s closer than you expect. There’s a strange relief in the realization that he can’t see the way your jaw falls open. That relief quickly dissipates when his plump lips press against the pad of your thumb, causing your sharp inhale to cut through the white noise of the fan nearby.

He laughs softly, breath hitting your skin in puffs as your fingernail scrapes against his upper lip. This position is not exactly ideal, considering the erection beginning to form in his boxers. With one leg trapped between your thighs and the other plunging into the mattress beside you, all it would take is one lazy dip of his pelvis to allow you to feel how you affect him.

“What are you doing?” You find your voice, but it sounds hoarse and foreign, and you make no effort to hide the accusation dripping from your own guilty lips.

“I…” His heart drops to his stomach. What is he doing? The more time that passes leaves the memory of you on the couch feeling increasingly surreal, like a cruel joke originating from a desperate imagination that he’s foolish enough to believe. He squeezes his eyes shut, struggling to think of something that will fix this mess. The rain pattering against the window is soothing and it tries to wash the awkwardness from the air, but it’s not enough.

Then a lightbulb goes off, and his hand is already gently bringing yours down to the mattress. His voice is even, despite the humiliation coursing through him. “I dropped your defenses.”

“You what…?” Before you can contemplate the meaning behind his words, his hand tightens around your wrist, pressing it into the soft mess of blankets beneath you with his full weight. You strain against his grip as he begins playfully jabbing at your waist with his free hand. You scrunch your hips towards your elbow as you swat fervently in the direction of his arm to no avail.

Strong, stubborn fingers poke and prod all of the sensitive spots he’d briefly had the pleasure to acquaint himself with. You do your best to keep the laughter from spilling out, but he isn’t satisfied by the restraint you’re showing. The noises he wrenched from you earlier had been so delicious and he’s desperate to pull more, so he dares to pinch his fingers at the tender crease in your skin between your thigh and hip.

You buck your hips and cry out at the sensation, the fabric of your shorts riding up just enough to grant his fingertips access to the outermost edge of your panties. His eyes roll into the back of his skull for a fraction of a second, reveling in his success. Your hand clamps down on his bicep, nails digging in hard enough to leave marks. He would be hissing and backing off if not for the delectable sound of you stammering out a slew of pleases on repeat.

Are two fingers all it takes to make you beg me? He muses, pleased with the visual he’s created for himself in the darkness. He can feel his cock poking out from the hole in his boxers, sensitive head sliding against the soft fabric of his sweatpants.

“Joonie, please! I’m gonna--” A snort escapes the back of your throat and you choke back a gross fit of giggles as his fingers twitch against the cotton fringe beneath your shorts. “It’s too much!”

Those are definitely a string of phrases he’s going to file away for later. He licks his lips before loudly smacking them, enjoying the fact that you can’t see the devilish smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Really? ‘Cause, uh, I don’t feel a thing.”

His thumb and forefinger pinch against your flesh in that same sensitive area, ripping another uncontrollable cackle from you. Even in the darkness, it’s easy to tell that you’ve got tears in your eyes from the way you’re pleading with him. Your clammy fingers slide along the lean muscles in his bicep, tapping him repeatedly as though a referee will appear and save you from his relentless fingers. Your head falls back and you half-bury your face into a pillow to muffle the way you’re howling beneath him.

“Please, please, please,” you beg between pained wheezes, hopelessly bucking your hips up towards his. “I’ll do anything. Please. Please. Please. Please. Namjoon...”

He does his best to avoid your frenzied thrusts, dodging to the left and right to keep his now rock hard dick from touching any part of you. But the breathless way you’re pleading and panting against the pillows has him melting, daring him to grind his aching cock on your hips. His fingers slowly drag a delicate path away from the cotton he’d been trying to build the courage to do something more bold with. They trace invisible teasing lines downward and the abs hidden beneath your soft layers of flesh finally stop contracting. This time the final laugh that escapes you trails off into a breathy moan, body flaring with desire for more contact while simultaneously fatigued from twinging and fighting against his mischievous digits. Namjoon’s form lingers above you in the darkness with your crass groan refusing to leave his eardrums.

Hot breath fans the shell of your ear, his already deep voice somehow dropping an octave lower as the gravel in his throat fights the word bubbling out from it. “Anything...?”

Why does he keep doing that? It’s driving you insane. You don’t think you’ve ever heard his voice take on this tone before tonight, even in jest, and it’s making your ears ring with how hard they’re now straining to take in more of that delicious, gruff whisper. You have no choice but to hold your breath to quiet the exhale that threatens to reveal the lust coating your thoughts.

Just as you’re certain he’s about to drop his weight onto your thigh and expose the wetness soaking through your shorts, Namjoon pulls his head back with a loud contented sigh, flopping down onto the mattress beside you. Maybe he’s just giving you a taste of your own medicine. Can you blame him after all the mixed messages you’ve been sending? You’ve been filling pretty much every conversation with sexual tension lately; it makes sense that he would try to dish some back at you.

In your defense, Tinder hasn’t exactly been the fun, liberating experience you’d been promised by the app’s promotional messaging, and your frustrations are starting to become palpable. Even your vibrator can’t keep up with the rollercoaster highs of your sex drive right now. Poor Joon is just caught in the middle of a very, very bad drought and you’ll be damned if you let your friendship become a casualty of your desire for a little rain.

Coward. The thought reverberates against his skull hard enough to make him shake his head as he props himself up on one elbow.

“Help me hook my laptop to my TV so I can watch movies on the big screen,” he says, cutting through the self-loathing. Knowing you’re glaring at him in the dark, he pauses. “What? You said anything.”

“Just get a Firestick. They make those things specifically for people like you. I don’t need your incompetent ass calling me every time you can’t get it working.”

“You always gotta be rude about everything?” he tuts. “Besides, Firestick ain’t gonna help with what I want to do.”

The conversation allows you to forget the shame dripping out of you and you flip onto your side to more comfortably counter his point. “You can get every YouTube video on the planet on that thing. Not to mention Hulu, Netflix, PrimeVideo… Like, you can get anything you want to watch at the push of a few buttons. Well, everything except…” you trail off, the gears in your head spinning fast enough to come undone.

He swallows, knowing you’re about to call him out. “I don’t need a Firestick,” he reiterates.

Your cheeks flush. Porn. Of course it’s porn. Just another thought you don’t need floating around your head: Namjoon jerkin’ it to whatever weird shit he’s into. Honestly, you’re almost afraid to touch the laptop with how much he’s probably used it for that specific purpose.

“Of course not.” You sigh as your palm pushes him back against the bed, eager to just forget the night and feel the same way you did last week. “You’re gross.”

He huffs at the accusation, even though he admits to himself you’re completely right and doesn’t audibly argue the point. He also doesn’t fight the way you force him down, resting his head against a soft pillow as the weight of yours comes down onto his chest. Instinctually, his arm reaches around you, pulling you closer with his fingers tented against the small of your back. You shiver into his t-shirt, briefly catching the scent of his deodorant before closing your eyes.

“So, that’s a no then?” he asks dejectedly, voice rumbling up through the ear you’ve got pressed to his chest.

You chuckle into him as you nuzzle your face back and forth a few times, reveling in the way it feels to be in such a comfortable position with another person, even if it is Namjoon. “I guess I can do it since you’re indulging me right now... I won’t tell if you don’t?”

His fingertips move down your back to idly play with the band of your shorts, tracing lazy lines across them. You tense, taking all the self control you currently possess to stop from grinding your hips into his thigh.

He hums in response, finally resting his hand respectfully above the fabric of the t-shirt at your waist. “Okay,” he whispers.

You lay together in silence, listening to the increased assault of raindrops at your window. Normally with the fan going like this you’d be feeling chilly and be rushing to pull a blanket over you, but with the heat coming off of him in waves, you’re feeling rather warm, almost sweaty. It feels like the breath in your lungs isn’t enough and you take in a few deep, noticeable inhales and exhales. Your heart is pounding like you just ran some kind of incredible marathon.

“Y/N… You ok?” Even sleepy, you can still hear the concern dripping from his tone.

You take in a couple more hungry breaths. It almost feels like a panic attack sneaking up on you. But why now? You’re not even doing anything worth freaking out about. Is it the stress of the day? Is it the embarrassment?

“Yeah… Just...anxiety...” you manage to pant out weakly, your chest heaving frantically for more air. “I’m sorry."

He fishes for your hand in the darkness, turning his face down towards the top of your head to plant a small, innocent kiss there. “Shhh, shhh, I got you. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I’m sorry,” you say again, trembling fingers gripping his with a sense of urgency, like at a moment’s notice he’ll melt away and you’ll be left alone. “Don’t leave, okay?”

He twines his steady fingers between yours. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. You’re okay. Try to breathe deeply. I’ll be right here.” He starts to inhale loudly, causing your head to rise with each deep fill of his lungs, and fall with his audible exhales.

Over the course of a few minutes, your breathing aligns with his, and you’re even holding at the same moments to help your body relax. When you seem stable, he wants to say something comforting, but simply gives your hand a gentle squeeze once he recognizes the soft snore leaving your mouth.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Joonie, did you clean your apartment before I came over?” you’re eyeing the spotless nature of his abode suspiciously. “Since when do you not throw your shirts wherever?”

He smiles, pleased with himself as he folds his arms and crosses the room before sinking into the couch. “Since you always complain about it.”

You stare him down incredulously. “It’s just… I’m shocked. It’s so unlike you.”

“What?” He scoffs. “Are you seriously gonna complain now that my place is clean?”

“Hmph. Where’s your laptop?” you question,

He pulls it from the folds in the couch cushion sheepishly. “Hold up.” He’s opening it and typing in the password as you flop down next to him.

“If you seriously left porn on here knowing I was coming over to do this, that’s on you. Gimme. I wanna see what fucked up shit Professor Kim gets off to.”

He tries to cover the screen, but you can still see the raunchy frozen frame beneath his splayed fingers. Your eyebrows raise, taking in the sight of a nude woman’s body straddling a well-endowed man on a black leather couch. It’s tough to push back the smile fighting through your pursed lips. “Couch cowgirl, huh?”

“You know…” He fumbles to close the tab and thrusts the computer into your lap, clearly embarrassed at the thought of you seeing any of that. “I don’t stand over your shoulder judging your porn choices.”

You shake your head and scoff. “What makes you so sure I watch porn?”

“I know you,” he groans, rolling his eyes.

“I’m sorry!” You laugh, beginning to navigate to the display settings. “I’m not judging. It’s just a little more tame than I was expecting.”

“You’re judging,” he declares finitely. “And what the hell are you expecting anyway? What kind of fucked up shit are you into, hmm?”

Your face flushes and you stop typing. He laughs. “See? Just that reaction there tells me you’re one hundred times worse than me. You’re just better at hiding your search history.”

You swallow hard and snap the laptop shut. “Joon, you knew I was coming over to do this today. You had all night to clear out your embarrassing stuff. It’s not my fault you’re a dumbass.”

He starts to quietly interject. “Actually, my IQ is--”

“I don’t care what your IQ is. You’re not goading me into telling you my porn preferences. I’m just here to help you get your laptop hooked up.”

“Is that why you’ve closed it?” he asks with a smirk.

You blink at him a few times. “N-No.”

He laughs again and you can feel your face burning, knowing that he’s pridefully drinking in the sight of your mistake. “Don’t worry. You don’t need to say a thing.” He leans in, closer than you expect and begins speaking in a low, gravelly whisper that freezes you in place. “I already know what you like.”

You do your best to keep your breathing steady, but it quickly turns into a sputtering mess when he cups your chin and trails his index finger down your neck, stopping just above your breast bone. With no effort at all, he guides you down with the press of his finger until you’re laying flat on your back. He steadies himself over you with a strong arm that sinks into the cushion beside your face, effectively boxing you in as he descends.

“You like it when I take control,” he announces, an unfamiliar confidence in his husky tone. “Don’t you?”

At this point, you know your jaw is trembling as it hangs stupidly open. Every word you can think of dies on your tongue as his free hand draws a line beneath your t-shirt, up your belly and teases the lace trim around one of your breasts. You shiver as he drags his fingertips back and forth in the valley between your tits, growing more and more desperate for him to reach beneath one of the cups and take you into his hand. Chest heaving, you turn your gaze away, hoping he will spare you the embarrassment of looking into his eyes with the hunger in yours.

“Yes,” you whisper weakly, knowing he’s got you. If Jimin has been teaching him how to play Chicken, he has taken it to the next level and it’s gone past the point where you think you’re able to willfully extricate yourself from the situation.

His hand shoots up from beneath your shirt to clasp your jaw, forcing your face back into position. “Look at me when you answer.“

You let a tiny moan slip at the rough contact and your eyelids flutter for a moment before meeting his gaze. His eyes are dark and eager, pupils blown out to the size of dinner plates, perfectly set to devour you. You need it now. You need him now.

“Yes…” you whimper. His hand drops like lightning down beneath your bra, molding as much of your tit as his strong grip can manage.

“Fuck yes,” you breathe, clasping your arms around his neck and desperately bringing him down to meet your lips.

He moans into your mouth as he comes crashing down, greedily sucking the air from your lungs with every last taste he imparts. The hand that had been supporting his weight tangles itself in your hair as you buck your hips up into him, thirsty for more of whatever he’ll give you. The rocking passage of your hips causes him to mirror the motion, grinding his thigh deliciously up against your clit. You mouth falls open with the need to take in air at the sudden friction in your jeans. He uses the opportunity to slip his himself past the barrier of your teeth and deep into your mouth, gliding his tongue across the surface of your own.

While this has never been a thought that’s crossed your mind in the past, you can’t imagine not knowing his taste. And yet when you try to describe it and pin down his delectable nature, it slips away. Your lips crash harder around his, hopelessly searching for the moment that your thirst will be quenched and never finding it. You want him more than you ever thought possible, in any way possible. It’s like he’s everywhere and nowhere at the same time, flooding all of your senses with a ravenous need that refuses to fade, even as you drink him in again and again.

As he pinches a pebbled nipple between his fingers, you whine through a gasp and fight to bite at his bottom lip, sucking it through your teeth. You hold him in place long enough for him to prop himself up on the couch and move back. Like hell if you were going to let him have all the power.

“Please,” he groans through gritted teeth, sounding incredibly vulnerable. It’s like music to your ears. You drag your teeth over his lip slowly one last time before letting it snap back to him.

With an ease you’re not used to, you’re able to push him back and sit up, carefully untangling your legs and rising from the couch. He’s about to pull you back towards him when you point to the middle of the couch. “Sit there.”

His adam’s apple bobs a few times, dark hunger never leaving the spark in his eyes as he positions himself as instructed. Clasping the outside of his knees, you force them closer together as you straddle his lap. With your legs spread like this, you can smell how wet and ready your pussy is, so you know damn well that he can too. You should be embarrassed and hiding your face in shame. You should be, but you’re not.

Your fingers knot themselves in his hair as you slowly roll your hips across his lap. Your voice is low and husky, filled with messy impatience. You’re ready to fall apart at his hands if he’d let you, but first you want him to know how it feels. “Is this how you like it, Namjoon? Is this what you want?”

A sharp inhale gives you your answer, but you continue to roll your hips just above his lap, hoping to elicit an erection. He groans as he buries his face into your neck, sliding his hot tongue over a particularly sensitive area and latching himself on. You realize you’re going to buckle quickly under the ecstasy you’re not used to feeling. Feeling reckless and bold, you reach down into his sweatpants, grasping for the cock you know has to be rock solid at this point.

Your hand clumsily slides against the gray band at his waist, unable to even clutch the drawstrings in your haste. The harder you try, the more your fingers seem to tangle in them. Soon you find yourself trapped, unable to move your hands away from the gray material they’ve become encased within. Using the brunt of your shoulder, you force Namjoon off your neck and much to your horror the laughter spilling out of him becomes squeaky like a windshield wiper.

“Wooow!” Jin’s disappointed voice has you breaking out in a cold sweat, frozen as you take in the broad shoulders dressed in Namjoon’s clothes before you. “Are my eyes deceitful like you? How many times have I asked if you had feelings for him? And now I catch you like this? What do you mean, none? I’m sure I asked at least once!”

As you shake the hair from your eyes and try to break free, the horror intensifies as the man before you morphs into a giggling Hoseok.

“Tsk-tsk-tsk. Dirty girl,” he chides, bringing his arms around your neck. “How long has it been? Have you forgotten how? I can help you remember if you want.”

You shut your eyes, trying to wish the temptuous voice away, but when you open them it’s now Jungkook staring at you, cackling. “Showing him your tits wasn’t enough, noona? You want him to touch you too?”

He tuts as he leans forward, and you begin to slide from his lap, which seems to be growing larger and steeper by the second. You’re desperately trying to get your hands free so you don’t fall, but it’s no use; you can feel yourself slipping away.

“Oh, are you stuck?” His obnoxious guffaw echoes into the darkness encroaching the apartment. “Well, since I’m a nice guy, let me help you with that. I’m really good with straps.”

He stands and you feel yourself fall, but he catches you by your bound hands, causing your elbows to knock against your head. You feel about 2 feet tall in his clutches as he suspends you in the air with one hand. The other starts pulling on the tangle of gray drawstrings, causing your body to twist in his grasp. With a sharp tug, he has you completely unraveling in a dizzy haze. You clamp your eyes shut again to avoid the vertigo jeopardizing the stability of your stomach contents.

You hang in Jungkook’s grasp, his cackle reverberating through your skull as you feel a gentle breeze caressing your body. As you open your eyes and look down, you realize you’re completely naked, and as you fight against his hold, your body spins. You’re face to face with Taehyung, his eyes cold and calculating as they roam across your body, searching for imperfections. He cocks his head to the side, wearing an expression of granite as his eyes slowly, painfully ascend your exposed flesh.

He blinks at you a few times before breaking into a boxy smile. “Wow. I’m glad we kept your clothes on.”

As you recover from the sting of his words, you fight against Jungkook’s grasp and attempt to swipe at Taehyung’s gorgeous face. As he leans back, his visage morphs into Yoongi, who stands there looking perplexed by your current predicament.

“Hobi’s right. You are easy, aren’t you?” He quirks an eyebrow and turns away, his form evaporating into the darkness.

Again you fight against the man holding you in place. This time you fall, but you land softly against a couch cushion with the cheshire grin of Jimin looming over you.

“Oh, Y/N… You went home with Namjoon-hyung, hmm? I thought you liked me?” His smile quickly falls into a rare scowl, all traces of mirth absent in his stone gaze. The jealous venom biting in his tone causes you to wince. “It’s fine. I have better options.”

“I know,” you whisper, closing your eyes and allowing the tears to fall, attempting to descend further into the cushion.

Your body congeals into the cushion, slowly melting through it and sending you hurling into the darkness. Your knees hit a hard surface with a loud crack, but it doesn’t hurt. Nothing hurts like the words in your head. You know they’re right.

A spotlight appears over you, drawing attention to your lack of clothing and you clutch your knees to your chest to cover yourself as best you can. As you look around for an exit, you notice a mirror running along the wall behind you, taller than you can even fathom. Quick to disregard the sight of yourself, you turn around and there’s another one waiting ahead of you. Glancing around the room again yields dozens and dozens of mirrors in every direction. There’s nowhere you can even pretend to hide.

So you stand, tears stinging your eyes from the heartbreak of the truths you keep telling yourself. You shuffle over to the nearest mirror, feeling like your feet are sinking into sand and unable to fully rise with each step. Your reflection stares back at you: tired, cold, tear-stricken. You exhale and shove at the glass, unhappy with the person you see staring back at you. Instead of shattering or at least cracking like you expect, the glass bends in and bounces back, forcefully sending you into the mirror behind you. Your back lands against the hard surface and you slide down, allowing yourself to just sit and cry.

As you hug your knees close to your chest again, a fuzzy warmth envelops you. Clutching at the soft blanket that covers your body, you look up to see Namjoon’s dimpled smile starting back at you. He lowers himself to his knees and embraces you from behind, arms cradling you, lulling you into a place of comfort. It’s only when you stare ahead again that you can see the smile now gracing your own features.

He always finds a way to help, doesn’t he? With a contented sigh, you turn your body to gently bring your lips to meet his. The warmth of his body floods yours once more.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You awaken to your lips pressed against something hard. Your eyelids flutter a few times and you can just barely make out the shape of Namjoon’s arm pressing into your cheek. You must have rolled away from him in your sleep. Thank God. The sweat that trickles down your neck somehow runs cold and you shiver, tugging at the blanket covering your shoulders that was definitely not there when you closed your eyes. With a few deep breaths, you attempt to calm your heartbeat. You’re in your room. None of that was real. You’re safe.

Gently wiping your saliva from his forearm, you carefully shift your weight and turn your body to face him. Thankfully, he appears to still be sleeping, half tucked beneath the same blanket. What do you know? Even the human heater must get chilly sometimes.

Your heart still pounds wildly against your ribcage; it’s so loud that you’re almost afraid the sound will rouse him from slumber, but he lays peacefully beside you. There’s a hint of moonlight breaking through the clouds, and it casts just enough light to illustrate how angelic his features look while reposed. With the dream still fresh in your mind, you feel the need to reach out and make sure this is real.

Your hand gently glides through his hair before cupping his cheek and stroking it with your thumb. You catch yourself wondering how you might explain the action, should he awaken at this moment. For now, all that matters is the tranquility the subtle movement provides; it coaxes you into security. As your heartbeat calms, you rest your head on his chest. There’s a dull thumping that you can feel beneath your palm and you swear time stills as you lose yourself in its soothing cadence.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Sunshine can’t seem to clear the clouds enough to illuminate the room. It still feels like it could be too early to rise, but the sound of birds chirping over the soft patter of rain lets you know that it’s later than you might believe. You blink a few times, irritated that you’re rising at all on a Saturday morning when you could be sleeping the day away. It’s not like you have anything planned. As you stretch your spine straight up, a pair of lean, muscular arms constrict your chest and waist, lazily pulling you back into a prime spooning position.

You lightly massage the pair of forearms pinning you in place with oblivious fingertips. That’s right. Joonie’s still here.

He’s careful to keep your form from his pelvis, knowing that it wouldn’t take much for you to feel the stiff bulge tucked into the band of his sweatpants. Whatever alternate dimension he’d stumbled into last night had given plenty of fuel for his fantasies: your moans, your touch, and kiss you had nearly shared.

But with the gray fragments of daybreak twinkling through the blinds, reality has to kick in at some point. He knows there’s no way you would pass up the opportunity to make fun of him should you feel even the tip at your back. Now’s not the time to tempt the luck of the universe, not when he has you like this.

You do your best to ignore the blush creeping across your cheeks as you settle in, lacing your fingers with a firm squeeze to his. He lifts his head and sleepily sets it in the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning the surface of your skin and giving you new chills with each exhale. "Morning, Geeksquad."

You hum in response, leaning back into the sensation. He breathes deeply, taking in the subtle mingling scents that linger on your form: the hint of lilac conditioner in your hair, the traces of moisturizer on your skin, the remnants of perfume spritzed some time ago, and the fragrance he can’t place as anything other than “you.” He could stay here for hours just breathing you in, trying to figure it out, but any description would fall short of capturing its perfection.

The tickle of his breath at your neck causes to you shake your head against the pillow a few times, attempting to hide the smile curling the corners of your mouth. You’re content with the scene staying as it is and you’re almost relaxed enough to drift back to sleep when the ceiling above you allows the first long creak to break through the quiet of your bedroom. Then another. And another. Soon there’s a steady familiar squeaking of the bed frame in the apartment above. An awkward silence falls between you both, but quickly fills with a rhythmic squeaking.

It was too much to hope that the noisy neighbors could put off their sexcapades until you weren’t in a compromising position with a friend. You side-eye the light fixture above you as it rattles in time with the sound of the headboard now hitting the wall. You know from experience that the noises will dull in time, but it doesn’t make right now any better.

Just as you’re about to say something, there’s a slew of loud “yes”es that cut through the room. Not daring to look back at Namjoon now, you scrunch your face into a grimace and silently pray for the bed to fall through the ceiling and crush you. Neither of you are willing to say anything, either embarrassed or enthralled by the lewd visions plaguing you as a result of the sounds above.

While you can't recall the most recent dream to grace your subconscious, an encore of the previous one pervades your thoughts. The image of Namjoon feeling you up as you make out like a couple of horny teenagers has you squeezing your thighs together and tensing your body against him.

Desire charts a course from your brain straight down to your pussy, the noises descending from the ceiling only serving to heighten the fantasy. The thought of him cupping your tits and pulling you back into his chest creeps into your mind with every second you spend tucked beneath his arms.

You bite your lip and stretch again, this time purposefully nudging your ass into him with a forced yawn. Even through a heavy knit layer of cotton, you feel the hard shape that butts up against you. A soft, sleepy groan croaks out from the base of his throat, which only allows the perverse reverie to further take over.

Dropping his forehead against you, a heavy, tight-lipped grumble sends vibrations up your neck. This, combined with the creaking bed frame and muffled moans from above, sends a hot, prickly wave of adrenaline surging through you. A restrained puff of air forces its way through his nostrils as his nose sweeps against the sensitive spot at the base of your neck.

Your pussy clenches at the sound of his weakness, like the gravitational pull of your soaking cunt can draw in his cock if those muscles deep inside can contract hard enough. You're hyper aware of the way your shorts are riding up, removing that extra barrier between you both, but you're too worked up at this point to care.

You reach back, wordlessly carding your fingers through his hair. The action elicits another faint moan into the flesh of your neck, sending the high of your adrenalin to new heights. Silent, jagged breaths wrack the outline of your chest as he tightens his arm's hold on your waist.

He makes a fist to keep himself from grabbing your hips, knuckles trembling against your belly and clearly struggling to keep things PG. But you're not having it, not after the dreams that have plagued you and the filthy things running through your mind. Hoping to lure another lewd sound from him, you wiggle your hips and shimmy your shoulders to provide the cover that perhaps you're trying to get comfortable. His fist opens and desperate fingers sink into the flesh beneath your t-shirt.

It's not a request, but a harsh demand in the form of a whisper against the shell of your ear that leaves you absolutely quaking beneath him. "You don't want to keep doing that."

The subdued whimper crawling up your throat nearly dies behind pursed lips before transforming into a pleased hum. Your hips seem to have a mind of their own, rising to challenge what may or may not be a bluff, and slowly grind back into the erection firmly planted at your backside. You're too enticed by the possibility of a gratifying answer to stop the word falling from your mouth. "Why?"

That definitely came out brattier than intended. A swarm of angry butterflies pump their way through your system. Their fluttering clogs the path to your brain that tends to lean towards subtlety. Dull fingernails dig into the skin at your hip and shoulder tight enough to leave marks. His hips thrust forward for the first time, slowly dragging the mass of his cock up your ass and then back down in delicious, languid strokes.

You hold back the moan building in your throat and a sharp sigh chokes its way past your lips instead. The subsequent needy, ragged inhales fill the space around you. Your back arches while your hips remain in place, causing your chest to rise as you knot your fingers in his hair. When you throw your head back and close your eyes, he bites his lip to quell the urge to pepper kisses along your exposed neck. His restraint is admirable, but the toll it takes on him is palpable at this point.

“I think you know why,” he accuses in a low whisper, dropping his forehead against you again and halting the stroke of his hips.

“I won’t tell… if you don’t,” you promise, your chest about ready to cave in on itself from the amount of pressure his arm is now squeezing into it.

Feeling brave, you offer one more subtle roll of your hips, tempting him to follow the provocative pattern. Now he’s the one who tenses. He’s still, holding his breath for just a moment in disbelief as the dull sound of the lovers above cut through the air. Then you feel the sliding of his palm across your abdomen and a greedy exhale at your ear. Fingers dig into your flesh, holding you in place as he answers your unspoken question with gentle rock of his hips. You respond with hungry need, clasping your hands over both of his as the rhythm of your bodies begin to sync.

He lets you lead the campaign to your mutual destruction. If this is hell then he’s happy to be the fiery tide at the back of a devil disguised as a moon goddess. His hips ebb and flow against whatever pace you set as you listen to the lovers upstairs and soon you find yourself wishing for more. You feel as though at any given moment his cock is going to spring free and rub against the meat of your ass-- and you're ashamed to admit that you couldn't be more turned on by the thought.

His fingers start to tease the band of your shorts as he rocks himself against your ass, savoring the way you’re panting. He slows his pace without realizing as he drifts into his own fucked-out daydream. It becomes clear you’re at his mercy when you whimper his name at his unintentionally lazy thrusts. The tides have turned.

You’re definitely about to say something you might regret --as if you didn’t have enough of that going on already. Your dripping cunt urges you to beg, to plead with him to go farther. You’ll set up as much porn on his TV as he wants. But right now, you want to be touched so badly you feel like you’re going to explode. “Please.”

What he wouldn’t give to hear you say that again. He hooks a finger beneath the fabric at your waist and dips his tongue out to wet his lips, which deliberately skims your neck. This time you moan and he finds himself echoing the sentiment as he decides he’s going to take his time with you and pull out as many “please”s as you’ll give him.

You jump when your cellphone’s ringtone cuts through the room. He holds back the sob building in his throat, leaving only choked air in its wake. It’s suddenly clear to you that the only other sounds in the room are both of your labored breaths. You strain to reach out towards the nightstand and Namjoon’s arms reluctantly give way to your movement. He immediately rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling in disbelief as you fumble to swipe at the screen.

“Why do you do this to me?” he whispers to himself, and rolls away from you to contemplate the meaning of life.

“H-Hello?”

“What uuuuup, bitch." Jennie’s voice is loud and carries through the receiver even though the volume isn’t at its highest setting.

You wince, trying to shake the lingering nerves from your voice. “Heeeeey, Jennie.” You stumble through a few incoherent syllables. “A-Are you back?”

“You sound guilty. What are you doing?”

“I wasn’t doing anything, Jennie,” you scoff.

“Doesn’t sound like it. Oh, did you go have a rebound bang after that shitty date yesterday?” she asks excitedly.

“What? No! I was just minding my own business. Relaxing.” You swallow, sparing a glance at Namjoon. “Alone.”

He raises his eyebrows at you and your roll your eyes, mouthing the word ‘what.’

“Okay, okay! I got it. I don’t need to hear about how great your vibrator is again. I get actual sex from actual real people, Y/N.”

Your mouth falls open and you cringe at her statement, tearing your eyes off of Namjoon’s giggling form. He folds his arm over his face to hide his laughter, but from the corner of your eye you can still see his body convulsing.

“You know what!” You shriek, rising from the bed and scurrying out of the room as fast as possible. “I don’t need this. Is there a reason you called?”

“Obviously you don’t check your email. I’m on my way back but Taehyung stopped by and asked me to retouch those photos he took.”

“Taehyung drove all the way there to ask you that?”

“He was apparently out this way for a gallery or something. I don’t know. He stopped by with a flash drive and asked me to work my magic aaaand ta-daaa. Well. Open your email. It works better if you can actually see what I’m ta-daing about.”

You swallow, putting her on speaker as you open the mail icon on your phone. Sure enough, there’s an email from Jennie with several attachments. Your eyes skim along the text in the body of the email and settle on the photos below. Holy shit.

“Well? What do you think? Pretty good right? I mean I haven’t touched them all but Tae and I picked out what we thought were the best of the best for your profile. He liked the artsier looking ones, but I said hey man, sex sells. And it does, Y/N. So sell that shit. Put em up, get some matches! Oh and don’t worry I didn’t use any liquify shit to make you look thinner or anything. I just focused on accentuating your natural beauty and fixing the lighting with some adjustments to levels and curves, maybe a few color balance filters. Honestly though, Tae knows what he’s doing with a camera and I didn’t have to do much for most of them. Some cropping and smoothing out wrinkles in the backdrop to make it look more like a real beach. Adding some plants in places for dimension.”

You stand there staring at the photos, quietly taking in just how gorgeous the pair have made you look in each one. “Honestly they look so good. But this is so much work for my stupid profile,” you mumble as you scroll through, admiring the images that you still can’t believe are you.

“Y/N, sweetie. I love you. You’re a catch and I can’t wait to see you find the person who will appreciate and love you even half as much as I do. But you need to get laid. Badly. Right now you’d probably fuck anything that moves. I wouldn’t be surprised if you told me you banged that meathead Jungkook. Even though we both know he’s a fuckboy. Totally pump-and-dump type. One hundred percent not boyfriend material. Not even worth the trouble of a fuck, honestly. But you know we on about those arms… I’m pretty sure he’s the only person we know that could actually do your fantasy of being fucked against a wall and, like, not even be tired from holding you up...” she trails off, lost in her own thoughts.

The words don’t embarrass you, even if Namjoon can hear them; you’re too distracted to find yourself even remotely fazed. You’re too lost in the work they’ve presented here, too shocked to say much of anything because of how excellent a job they’ve done. Can this really be you? Is this what you look like on a good day?

Namjoon listens in, taking this opportunity to inspect his own arms. He flexes the scrawny muscle in his bicep, trying to will it to grow bigger with a glare. His head snaps up. Your fantasy. She said ‘your fantasy.’ Is that really what you like?

He looks back down at his muscles, entertaining the possibility of such a scenario. It seems challenging, but not impossible, considering he’d half-carried you up three flights of stairs not too long ago. Then again, that’s a little different than holding someone up while thrusting into them and not giving a sloppy performance. What a fucking thought. Restraining the urge to palm himself over his sweats, he brings a curled finger to his lips in contemplation while eavesdropping on the rest of the conversation you don’t seem interested in hiding.

“And because you fucking suck at selling yourself, this is the easiest way to you get there. You get the sex out of your system and then you find mister right --or misses right; I don’t judge!”

You sigh, knowing she’s the one with experience. Jennie has a new prospect every week, but she knows how to utilize others’ infatuation to her advantage, get what she wants, and discard them as she sees fit. And she does it so effortlessly that you can’t help but envy her. She would know better than you could ever hope to.

“Thank you, Jennie. Really. I-I’m so grateful. Just… thank you. I’ll put these up and see if I get any hits.”

“Don’t get sappy on me, Y/N. It’s no big deal. Dudes are gonna be lining up to get in that pussy, babe. Don’t even worry ‘bout it, ‘kay? Love you bitch.”

“Love you…” The call ends and you wander thoughtlessly back into the bedroom.

Namjoon’s shit eating grin says everything that he doesn’t, but you settle into bed beside him and choose to ignore the look he’s giving you in favor of scrolling through the images again, completely disregarding the way you two were previously dry-humping to the sounds of your neighbors going at it. Namjoon’s frustrated sigh lets you know he hasn’t forgotten.

“Apparently Taehyung and Jennie worked on these together,” you say, pulling up the first one to show him. “Do you…” You hesitate, suddenly feeling shy and you nervously on your earlobe. “Do you think this is okay? Like am I lying to people if I put these up? I feel like they’re too good. I feel like they’ll expect this all the time and I don’t think that’s really fair.”

Namjoon’s eyes soften as he takes the phone from your palm. He licks his lips as he scans the details in the photo: the curve of your smile, the sweetness in your eyes, the way your head coyly rests upon your shoulder. You’re beautiful, as always. Makeup doesn’t really change that. But your smile radiates positivity and light in this particular instance; you’re practically glowing.

You twiddle your fingers together as you wait for the verdict, unable to read his stoic expression. “Well?”

His eyes roam from your face down to the photo a few times and he cracks a smile. “I think you need to stop worrying. I don’t see a difference.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Don’t you think I look too… good there?”

He mirrors your confused expression. “I think you look as good as you always do.” He catches himself when your confusion turns into bashfulness. “You know, for a nerd.”

You scoff and roll your eyes at the short lived compliment before propping your head up on his chest. Your finger pokes the screen, swiping across the images one by one and taking some time to review them with him. Not a single insult passes his lips. There’s nothing but praise spilling from him, finding something unique and genuine to compliment you on with each photo. He must sense your insecurity because he pauses each time and reminds you that he’s not being paid to say nice things. You silently thank him for at least trying to build you up. Surprisingly, it helps.

“I guess I’m using them then,” you sigh in defeat, rolling away from him as you take the phone back. You’re already downloading the photos so you can set them to your profile.

Namjoon rises at the opportunity, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach at the thought of you actually finding someone. Because Jennie is right. With photos that actually do your beauty justice, people will be flocking to you in droves. It seems too real now that you’re eagerly putting them on there. “Tinder won’t know what hit ‘em,” he says dejectedly.

You’re too distracted to properly catch the disappointment in his tone. “I hope so.”

“Hey... I’m gonna go, Geeksquad. I just remembered I made plans with some of the guys and I want to make sure I run all my errands ahead of time.”

You hum a note of approval and almost miss the way his face twists in anxiety because as you look up, he transforms his stress into a soft smile. Still, you see just enough to know you’re being a rude bitch right now and it’s bothering him.

“I’m sorry.” You drop the phone and cross the room, pulling him into a tight embrace. “Thank you for staying with me, Joonie. I… really appreciate you. I’m a mess and you always take care of me. So thank you. For real.”

“I know, Geeksquad.” He strokes your head a couple times before taking a few steps back. It hurts too much to say what’s on his mind.

“And, um… before Jennie called I…” You lock eyes and you mouth the words you wish to say, but they don’t come as you want them to, “just got caught in the moment. I’m sorry.”

He blinks at you a few times before vigorously nodding. “Yeah.” He clears his throat after hearing the crack in his own voice, bringing it a few octaves deeper to protect his ego. “Yeah, uh, me too. Don’t even worry about it, okay? I’ll, uh, I’ll text you when I know what we’re doing.”

You nod enthusiastically, a grin spreading across your face. “Okay!”

With that, he disappears and you hear the unlocking of your door and the soft click when it closes behind him. Picking your phone up from the bed, you struggle with setting the order of the photos. You save and resave different combinations for about 10 minutes until a notification blocks your screen. You’ve got a match.

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lilacyennefer · 4 years

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Finally, Beautiful Stranger Chapter 11

A/N: A bit of wedding planning, lots of smut.

TW: smut, like lots of it

“So, all we have left is the honeymoon, and my wedding dress.” you say tiredly after a long day at work and wedding planning.

“I got the honeymoon, you get the dress.” Will says. You look at him a bit skeptical.

“You sure you want to do it alone? I mean it’s our honeymoon.” you say gently, not wanting to get Will offended. Will was really helpful in the last weeks while you were planning your wedding with him, but also you needed to double check everything he did, making sure he did everything right. It’s not like you couldn’t trust in him, or he was incapable of doing anything on his own, but you were so anxious about the whole situation, you needed to make sure everything was okay.

“Leave this one thing up to me. I know you were checking everything I did.” Will says and you look down to your notepad, blushing, feeling embarrassed of being caught.

“You knew it?” you ask sheepishly.

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry. It’s not like I don’t trust you-” you start, but Will stops you.

“Honey, I know. I know you need to have everything under control or you burst from anxiety.” Will says with a small smile.

“So you’re not mad?” you ask, surprised.

“No.” Will shakes his head, still smiling, and he leans closer to you to place a soft kiss on your mouth. “We should probably go to bed soon. I know you struggle with sleeping lately.” Will is right. Ever since you started planning the wedding you couldn't sleep at night, not even if you were really exhausted.

“I’m so nervous about everything going right, my brain can’t turn off.” you complain and you see Will thinking about something as his eyes skim over your face.

“I think I can help you with that.” he answers in a deep, husky voice what makes you clench your legs together.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Let me show you.” Will says and he grabs your face gently and turns your head a bit as he leans close to kiss your neck softly. You let out a small moan as you feel Will’s tongue on your skin.

“I’m gonna start a bath for you.” he says after pulling away and he gets up from the couch, heading upstairs to start a bath for you. You sit on the couch a little bit, trying to calm your breathing before you get up and go upstairs. You walk to the bathroom where Will is sitting on the edge of the bathtub, he looks up when he hears you stopping at the door.

“It’s your favorite bubble bath.” Will says and you walk closer to him, and the smell of vanilla hits your nose. You feel yourself relax a bit as you take a deep breath, inhaling your favourite scent.

“Thank you.” you whisper and Will stands up, he pulls you closer to himself to kiss you passionately.

“I’m gonna join you, if you don’t mind.” Will tells you with a smirk and you shake your head lightly.

“Not at all.” you mutter. Will takes the hem of your shirt and pulls it over your head, throwing it on the floor. Soon his shirt and your other clothes follow before he takes your hand and helps you step into the tub. You let out a sigh as the hot water hits your skin, immediately relaxing your tired muscles. You close your eyes for a second as you sit down in the tub, the water and the bubbles covering your naked body. When you open your eyes you see Will watching you as he’s getting rid of the rest of his clothes. His cock is already getting hard and you bite your lips at the view, Will’s glorious, naked body in front of you, his soft skin and rock hard abs, and his hardening cock what never fails to make you feel good, not only your body, but your soul too, because you love the fact that it’s you who made him feel this way, it’s only you who's he’s hard for and his desire towards you what made him react this way. Will steps in the tub, sitting down behind you and his arms wrap around you immediately, pulling you closer to himself.

“This is nice.” You whisper and Will hides his face in your neck to kiss your skin gently.

“Hhmm, it is.” He murmurs. He moves his arms and places his hands on your shoulders, starting to massage them, working on your stiff muscles. You let out a moan from the feeling, and you feel Will’s cock twitch against your back, feeling him getting harder. He works on your sore muscles more, massaging them, and when he’s done you feel him hug you close to him again.

“That felt really good, thank you.” You lean forward to place a soft kiss on his arm, you’re running your nails over his tattooed forearm.

“I’m glad.” Will murmurs against your cheek, and you feel him slip his hand lower and lower on your body, placing a hand between your legs. He places his hand on your lower stomach and before he goes lower he asks “Is this okay?” and you nod in reply, Will pushing his hand between your legs, tracing his fingers over your slit, up and down, several times. You let out a sigh, enjoying the sensation, how gentle he runs his fingers over you, taking his time to build up your pleasure, making you feel good. He slowly slips two fingers into your folds, he keeps running his fingers up and down gently, massaging every part of your pussy. You throw your head back with a sigh, leaning your head on his shoulders and Will turns his head to kiss your forehead, cheeks, then your neck. You moan sweetly when his fingers start circling your clit the same time he’s sucking on that one spot on your neck what makes your toes curl. You moan his name and Will lets out a small groan in response, his cock is incredibly hard against your back. You move a little to slip your hand behind you, between your bodies, to grab Will’s cock, but he stops you, taking your hand and placing it back where it was before.

“Let me take care of you.” is all he says before he kisses you, his tongue slipping into your mouth the same time he slips a finger into you. You moan into his mouth, but you keep kissing, tongues rolling over each other while Will’s fingers work on you, massaging your g-spot and your clit, his other hand is on your boob, massaging it, tugging your nipples softly. Will keeps pleasuring you like this until you cum hard around his fingers. You’re trying to catch your breath while Will keeps caressing your folds with his fingers, peppering soft kisses over your shoulder.

“Let me return the favour.” you say when you finally catch your breath and Will lightly shakes his head.

“Not here. Let’s go to bed.” he says and you nod. Will quickly helps you to wash yourself and he washes himself too, then you get out of the tub, wrapping a fluffy towel around you, drying yourself a little bit. Will is doing the same, his eyes never left you as he’s watching your every move. You realised this few months into your relationship that Will loves watching you, not in a creepy way. When you asked him why he’s watching you all the time, he said he loves to admire you and seeing you do whatever you do in that moment, then he added that, seeing you makes him believe that you’re there with him, and you’re not some imagination. You didn’t know what this meant until later when another late night conversation happened, and he revealed that he doesn’t know what he did to deserve you, you saved his life and made it a thousand times better, and it takes a lot of his energy to push his demons away who tells him you’ll leave him one day and he’ll be alone again. You assured him that this will never happen, you love him more than anything, and your future is with him, and his is with you, no matter what. In the beginning of your relationship, you and Will had many conversation what ended up in tears, both of you had your own demons and fears, and as you got more comfortable around each other, you revealed these things to each other, and honestly, both of you needed this, to talk about the things what has been bothering both of you since a long time, the fear of never being enough, the fear of the other one leaving when they see your flaws, and other thoughts like this what poison your brain and soul. You needed each other’s comfort, their souls and heart, to show you that these only exist in your brains, and none of you are going anywhere. You belonged together, you saved each other, and you need each other more than anything. Feeling Will wrapping his strong arms around you snap you out of your thoughts, you turn around to face him, his pupils are huge, you barely can see the blue of his eyes. You pull him closer a bit, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him on the mouth, trying to show him how much you love him and how much he means to you, all of your emotions in a single kiss.

“I love you more than anything, Will.” you whisper against his lips.

“I love you too, Isabelle. More than you could imagine.” his voice is thick with emotions and it makes your heart clench.

“I think I can imagine.” you brush your nose against his as you reply. Will takes his towel and throws it on the ground, then he reaches for yours, he’s taking it away from your body so slowly, then he throws it on the ground, next to his. Will suddenly lifts you up in bridal style, carrying you to the bed and gently throwing you on it. You laugh gently, and you look up at him, you’re supporting your weight on your elbows as you lay on your back, and Will is standing in front of you. You bite your lips as you look at him, his cock is standing hard against his stomach, his head is red, he’s so hard it’s probably painful at this point. You sit up and pull Will closer, your lips are immediately on his skin, kissing his stomach. Will’s hand is in your hair, pulling it softly as he pulls away from you. You look up at him and you see him swallow hard, he’s trying to collect himself before he says:

“Tonight is about you.” His voice is deep and raspy, full of desire.

“If tonight is about me then let me suck your cock.” you reply and Will groans a ‘fuck’. Will is not big on dirty talk, he curses and sometimes tells you dirty things in bed, but he adores when you talk dirty to him, it makes him unbearably turned on. He eventually steps back, closer to you, and you don’t tease him this time, you know he couldn't handle that right now, so you immediately take him in your mouth, running your tongue over his sensitive head, then sucking it. The sound what Will makes is animalistic, and you feel yourself getting wetter from it. You keep sucking and licking him, bobbing your head up and down on him, taking him deeper and deeper. His hand is still in your hair, gently pushing your head lower on his shaft, making you take him deeper until you gag around him, and he groans. When Will pulls away from you both of you are panting, and he tells you to kneel on the bed, and you do as he said, your ass is facing him, your legs spread wide, so he has a hell of a view of your throbbing, wet folds. You hear Will groan loudly and when you look back at him, his eyes are fixed on your wetness in front of him, his cock is in his hand, pumping himself. You shake your ass a little bit, teasing him more, and his other hand grabs one of your cheeks, massaging it. He slips two fingers into you, and you let out a loud moan as his fingers work on your g-spot while his thumb is massaging your clit. You grab the sheet hard beneath you as you moan his name, you’re still looking at Will, but he still doesn’t look at you, he’s watching his fingers move inside of you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” he murmurs, and he takes his fingers out of you, then he moves closer to you, holding his fingers out to you.

“Taste yourself.” Will says and you take his fingers into your mouth, your eyes locked with his as you suck your wetness off of his fingers, the same way you sucked his cock minutes ago. He groans loudly and takes his fingers out of your mouth, and kisses you, tongue slipping into your mouth, tasting you on your tongue.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t have troubles sleeping tonight.” he mutters against your lips and you moan again. He moves back to stand behind you, he takes his cock again and places it to your opening, his hand is on your lower back, the other one is grabbing your hips, then he trusts into you hard. You open your mouth to a silent moan as he’s stretching you out, and filling you. He doesn’t give you lots of time to adjust, he starts moving, fucking you immediately. The room is filled with your moans and groans, your heavy breathing, and the sound of Will’s hips smashing against your with his every move.

“Oh god.” you let out a shaky moan and you feel yourself getting really close to your orgasm. “Will!” you moan desperately, and he slips a hand under you, massaging your clit. Your legs are shaking as you’re on the edge of your orgasm, and Will suddenly pulls out of you, replacing his cock with his fingers what are back on your g-spot, massaging it the way he know it makes you cum quickly, and you finally, finally, explode around him, cumming hard. Your eyes are closed tightly as you try to catch your breath, Will’s fingers are still inside you, moving slowly while his other hand is on your back and bottom, caressing you softly.

“You okay?” you hear Will ask and you nod weakly. He pulls his fingers out of you “Lay down on your back.” he says and you lazily move, laying on your back, your legs spread, knees almost touching the bed. Will towers above you, kissing you lovingly, then he kneels down on the floor in front of the bed, he’s face to face with your throbbing, wet pussy.

“You’re so beautiful.” he breathes against your flushed skin and you moan softly. Will kisses your inner thigh, once, twice, several times, before he kisses your swollen, soaked folds. He slips a tongue into you, lapping your wetness, sucking your clit, until he has you squirming under him, legs shaking, and you’re breathing heavily, screaming his name as you cum for the third time tonight.

“God damn.” you say after you could catch your breath a little and Will lets out a small laugh.

“How are you feeling?” Will asks as he’s face to face with you again, his breath and beard smells like you.

“Hmm, fucking amazing.” you snicker and you run your finger through his beard. “Thank you.” you whisper and kiss him on the mouth.

“I’m not done with you yet.” he says after you pull away.

“Oh god.” you laugh and Will is looking at you smiling.

“Only if you’re okay with it.”

“Yes.” you whisper and he kisses you on the lips again, passionately, before he moves and stands in front of the bed and you again. He looks down at your naked body in front of him, legs spread, skin is covered in a light sweat. Will grabs a pillow and tells you to raise your hips and he puts the pillow under you, lifting your hips for a better, deeper penetration.

“Grab your legs.” Will demands and you hook your arm below your knees, pulling them up to your chest while keeping them as wide as you can. He takes his cock in his hand and puts it back inside you, starts fucking you again. You’re already really sensitive from your previous orgasms, and the new angle makes you take Will deeper than before, and his thumb is on your clit, flicking it against your sensitive bud, making your legs shake. You know Will can’t hold himself longer, and you’re approaching your fourth orgasm really quickly. You yell Will’s name as he’s fucking you, over and over again, and he groans and curses loudly, hips and thumb moving faster to make you cum. It doesn’t take long until you cum hard around Will, your walls throbbing furiously around him, milking him, and Will chokes a moan out as he finally cums too, spilling himself inside you. Your legs are shaking violently from your orgasm and you feel lightheaded from the amount of pleasure you had tonight. Will layed down on the bed next to you, trying to catch his breath, you turn to face him and place a soft kiss on his chest. You lay next to each other for a while, then Will goes and gets a wet towel to clean both of you before he tucks you into the bed, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close and placing a kiss on your forehead before you fall into peaceful sleep.

Tag list: @innerpaperexpertcloud @lady-evans @agirllovespasta @claudiahxrdy @mheart27 @oldstuffnewstuff (message me if you want to get tagged)

#charlie hunnam #William Miller #William Miller fanfiction #William Miller x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic

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nevergiveupneverrun · 4 years

Text

Bodyguard - Chapter Sixty-Seven “You will become dust again”

Hello, how are you? Here is chapter Sixty-Seven of my Story Bodyguard, yay!! I hope you will like this chapter. Sorry for not posting yesterday, I didn’t have time…

I’m sorry in advance for the mistakes… English isn’t my first language and I do my best. Here is the link to the previous chapter: Click Here.

I hope you will enjoy this chapter :) 💛

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- We are gathered today to evoke the memory of a man. Come together to support each other in this ordeal, in the face of absence and pain. The shock is all the more pronounced because this disappearance is done in violent circumstances, for a man who still had his whole life in front of him…but he dedicated his life to others: it’s like a hero that he left us and that’s how we have to remember him and keep him deep in our hearts.

The priest pauses for several long seconds then waves to a person in the front row. The recollection room of the crematorium is occupied by about thirty people who form like a black cloud, while they all wear the same dark and funereal color.

The designated man stands up and walks slowly towards the desk. He turns to face the assembly. And a deep voice echoes in the room.

- I had known Owen for many years…I trained him, I coached him…and as goes by the missions and our collaboration, a real bond has been created between us. He was the best element I have known in my career: surprising for his intelligence, his dexterity, his ability to analyze and act at the right time. He dedicated his life to protect others. His country. And his clients, when he decided to reorient his career to become a bodyguard. Danger and death have been part of hid daily life for the past fifteen years. Thanks to his talent, he escaped many very dangerous situations. But this time, the outcome was different.

He looks down at these words, then after a minute ends up looking up at the assembly.

- Owen left as he would have liked. Saving the life of the one he was protecting. By concluding his mission as always with success. He wanted to feel useful, to make sense of his life, to leave his mark in a certain way. I believe that today from where he looks at us, it is a serene man and satisfied with what he has accomplished who observes us. Without any regrets. Without any resentment.

He then looks for someone in the room and then addresses that person.

- You must not feel guilty. By doing this job, he accepted all the risks. Be ready to die to protect and save a life, he had prepared for it. I, for my part, am proud to have crossed his path. And I will keep him in my memory as he would have liked: a brave man. A beautiful soul who knew how to do good around him.

A nod concludes theses last words and he returns to his place as silently as when he arrived at the desk.

~~~

Another silhouette is already standing out. A man, who turns around in his turn. His features are more drawn, his face clearly revealing a deep pain.

He clears his throat twice, takes a deep breath, and then speaks in a calm and firm voice…in complete contrast to his image.

- I didn’t expect to live this day… when we do this type of job, agent or bodyguard, as I was able to do also, we necessarily think of the outcome that can be ours… but it’s still a concept. A simple possibility. I share so much with Owen…so much that convinced me that he was just too good, too talented to…

He is coughing lightly at this time. His hand is resting on the desk as if he is seeking a balanced that he is about to lose.

- I blame you, Owen, wherever you are. I blame you for proving that I could have been wrong, he continues with a thin smile that doesn’t however win his eyes, still dull and slightly reddened. We were a team, an impressive partnership and life will not be the same without your presence. But you were clearly the hero of the group…and you had demonstrated it until the end. I will miss you, bro.

He looks at the sky for long seconds while uttering this last word. Then, after what seems to be almost a moment of recollection, he leaves the desk to return to his seat in the assembly. As he sits down, a female silhouette leans to his side, then places a hand on his back before holding it against his neck.

~~~~

The priest reappears in front of the first row and whispers a few words to one of the people sitting in front of him. A nod follows his words and he finally helps this person to stand up and take a seat on the small platform. This time it is a woman. She firmly holds a tissue in her left hand which she carries against her chest while positioning herself in front of the desk. Wet highlights are visible on her cheeks, revealing that she couldn’t hold back tears.

The priest whispers a few words in her ear then takes the distance, staying to the side a few steps. Thus, alone in front of the room, she breathed deeply, her eyes closed. Her chest visibly rises several times, then she opens her eyes again. Staring straight ahead…as if she ad a landmark to look out for.

- Owen was…

Her voice resonates weakly and immediately turns off after a few seconds.

She lowers her face and places her tissue against her mouth, seeming to contain sobs that were only trying to escape.

She recovers in just a few seconds.

Demonstrating an impressive strength of character.

- Owen was like the son I never had…that I never could have. He was a lovely child. Full of life and sweetness. And this sweetness never left him. Despite the trials of life he had to go through, he remained as that little boy was…becoming an impressive man. He never clearly told me his real job…just telling me that he took care of others. But today, I understand he didn’t want me to worry about knowing the truth. He has always been like that…this concern to spare others constantly, to protect them, without ever thinking about what could cost him. Always putting his own well-being last. I had to live the ordeal of the death of his parents who were among my closest friends. Find me here. It’s the worst time of my life…when I only hoped for one thing, and that is to attend only happy moments for Owen. A wedding maybe. The joy of seeing him start a family.

Silent tears slide down both sides of her face. Her voice doesn’t tremble. Only her face betrays her emotion.

- I only hope for one thing. Is that he found the peace that he had been missing for so many years. And especially that they are gathered, all three, in this land of angles. My consolation is to tell me that we will also meet again one day…

A whisper concludes her speech. The priest comes back to her side and places a hand on her back, carefully leading her back to her place. Then he faces the assembly again.

- Amelia, do you want to say a few words finally?

A movement of the head is distinguished in the first row, a slow back and forth, expressing a refusal to this proposition from the priest. The silhouette is marked by a burst of tears while answering to this proposition…emotion is the strongest.

- Fine, we will use your song as you wish to mark a tribute to Owen in your own way. Thank you for all these testimonies and the effort that it represents for everyone to express themselves in this way and remember a being whose absence already touches immensely. Owen was a remarkable man, appreciated and loved by all who crossed his path…and it is the most beautiful image, the most beautiful memory that we must keep each in our hearts. Now, I invite everyone to come and pray one last time and say Goodbye.

He waves to the people in the front row, inviting them to come forward to the coffin posted in the center of the room. The whole room then stands up while guitar notes are heard.

A well-known melody…

“More than Words“ thus sounds, accompanying the silent passage of the members of the assembly in front of the coffin.

~~~~

I distract from this scene, the image is too hard to bear. Too disturbing.

This ebony mass stands out in the center of the room.

These black silhouettes like ghosts advancing obediently, some with difficulty, with measured steps, a white rose in their hand.

The musical notes sound familiar to me and rightly so when I perceive mingling with Amelia’s voice, my own voice. This is this unexpected duet that we shared when she wanted to rehearse her cover for a future show.

Who could have recorded this moment?

Was there such a system in what was her composition room? Or did she use her phone without me realizing it since we had redone the title a dozen times?

~~~

A time that is difficult for me to estimate is ticking away until I raise my gaze on the second screen in front of me. The majority of people left the room, only 5 people who were in the first row are seated again.

I discover them on this ale of the camera no longer from the back but from the front, their faces being distinguished by the mass of dark ebony which occupies most of the stage.

The priest then waves to the back of the room and a metallic noise is heard.

The coffin gradually lowered as if sucked towards an elsewhere…finally disappearing towards the mechanism of the crematorium.

A final dry and dull sound rises, symbolically marking the end of the ceremony…the pass from inert flesh to dust.

My eyes are staring intently at the faces watching this scene: and one of them deeply squeezes my heart.

This face.

The one who has haunted my days and my nights for so long months. But it’s like I don’t recognize her. As if she were another.

All shine seems to have evaporated from her features. Marked dark rings under her eyes can be guessed, accentuated by eyes intensely reddened by the sobs that assail her. Messy locks of hair are escaping from an awkwardly put together ponytail.

What I read in that face assails me with an intense puff of guilt: despair, discomfort, gap…I give in to the violence of the image.

My conviction wavers. My heart is racing without me controlling it.

I lower my gaze cowardly and my eyes look on the sheet on the table in front of me.

On this symbol which crystalizes the context where I am now.

The choice I made.

The chance I want to give her. She deserves the best…a best that is elsewhere.

~~~

A door creaking is heard behind my back, but I remain impassive, still confused by the thoughts and reactions I am expressing.

- Did you follow the ceremony?

I nod, my eyes still fixed on this document on the table, and each line is inscribed unconsciously in my mind.

- Owen, there is still time to change your mind.

“I certify to give up all my civil rights“

- Will you watch over her?

“I renounce my identity to provide all the services related to my missions under the necessary covers and determined by my hierarchy.“

- Nathan, will you watch over her? I repeat softly, my eyes still enthralled on the words breaking away fro the official contract.

- I will keep an eye on her… she will need time to recover you know…she is devastated… she didn’t lose only her bodyguard…

“I ensure that I no longer maintain any lin with relatives, family, friends, and definitively forget about any relationship to ensure my new functions.“

- I know…

- Are you well aware of what you meant to her?

- Yes, Nathan, I already told you at the hospital…I heard everything before I lost consciousness…

A pause settles between us, palpable but invisible tension in the air.

~~~

My eyes scan the document from bottom to top, my attention lingering on the title: “Directorate-General for External Security - Secret Services“. My hand automatically reaches for the pen on the table and I grab it, raising the point slightly towards the section I need to sign.

- Owen…

I perceive my first name as the last warning in the vague and fleeting tone of Nathan’s voice.

I raise my attention to my mentor whose eyes I meet for the first time since the start of our exchange.

- Owen Hunt just disappeared, you just attended his funeral.

- Yes, I know, don’t remember me what I just did…the comedy you asked me to play in front of all these people…including in front of Jackson who was very affected as you could see.

- Stop…it’s not the first time you’ve done this…you worked for years in special units…

- Yes, but this is the first time that I know so well the people in front of whom I have to delude.

I put the tip of the pen at the bottom of the document, but I hold my hand in this position for a few moments. My fate will be sealed after this signature. My life will only be a memory.

- The members of the “Phantom“ Services do not usually have your profile… they are orphans, men who have lost everything in their life, who no longer have their family…men who have nothing to tie them to their own life and identity and they abandon it almost with pleasure. But you? You, you have just deliberately chosen to sacrifice your identity, to become a memory for those who know you to be one of the five elite spy members of the Secret Service…What are you running from, Owen?

I take a deep breath, Nathan’s remarks instantly tense me.

- Nathan, I asked you if you wanted to help me…you accepted…I didn’t oblige you. Again, if you don’t understand my choice it’s your right but please respect my decision and don’t make it harder.

I stare at the white cloud under the tip of the pen and without thinking any longer, in a reflex gesture, I blacked the page with my signature.

Thus formalizing my new status.

After having long shadowed my clients as a bodyguard, I became a full shadow. A “ghost“ man who would take on a different identity depending on the missions.

I observe my signature who henceforth dresses this letter of mission and commitment…where I agree to renounce my rights, my past, my entire life.

- Ok, well I have nothing to say than “Congratulations“… Nathan says in a slightly bitter whisper.

I felt he disapproved of this decision I had made.

When I woke up in the hospital in the middle of the night, after several days of convalescence, the choice that I made today had taken shape in my mind.

All the ingredients were there for me to disappear…it became the only outcome that seemed acceptable to me…for all.

- Don’t think it’s easy for me, I retorted weakly.

- I respect your decision Owen and I have helped you in every step…but don’t blame me, if I insist on making sure that you have weighed up the pros and cons… you will not be able to go back…

- I know and this decision is well considered. It may have seemed rushed but it’s better for everyone…

- Do you really think it’s better for her? He supports me, pointing to one of the two screens, where we can make out Amelia, still sitting in the ceremony room. The empty gaze blurred by tears. Absent attention was fixed in front of her. April, in a wheelchair, is present next to her and holds her hand discreetly but firmly.

I remain hypnotized in front of this scene: I can see Amelia’s lips moving to whisper the words she slipped into my ear before I lost consciousness.

April comforts her a little more, giving a kiss on her hand and giving her a few words of encouragement.

I hardly swallow my saliva, taking the pain I inflict on her in the face.

I want to go through the screen. To take her in my arm. To tell her the truth. To see a smile light up her beautiful face.

But a little voice awakens in me as my hands shake and my body is on the alert, ready to step out of this room.

This little voice reassures and calms me, telling me the reasons for my choice and Amelia’s interest…

- It’s better for her…

- Owen…the sorrow you see in her eyes… it’s the pain of a woman in love… she loves you so much…don’t react out of selfishness to protect yourself…

- It’s not out of selfishness that I want to disappear from her life.

- Listen, I know you’ve been hurt in your life, and everyone close to you has abandoned you… that life snatched them from you… or that betrayal struck you down. But do not fall into a blind fatality that will make you see each meeting as doomed in advance.

I take my eyes off the image of Amelia and breathe deeply, before staring at Nathan.

- As weird as it sounds to you, I only think of one person by making this choice…it’s not me, it’s Amelia.

I perceive Nathan’s forehead to wrinkle, denoting his incomprehension at my answer.

- She is not in love with me, Nathan…she is in love with an image. She idealized me. I’m not the one for her. I am unable to give her what she needs, I confess weakly. I will only disappoint her.

I find the image of Amelia on the screen, and discover her slowly leaving the room with April by her side. I realize that they are only a few meters from me, as they reached the corridor. A door separates me from her. An irrational desire to put everything aside and find her again rises in me.

The torture is intense…

But my will and my conviction to have made the right decision are stronger than anything.

- I save her time. I couldn’t bear to read the disappointment in her eyes. Detect that moment when she would have realized that she was wrong. And disappear like that, this is the only way she will understand and forgive me.

I pause for a few seconds before finishing my answer.

- Happiness is elsewhere for her. Someone else is meant for her. Clinging to my mirage would only delay her.

The presence of Nathan is emerging at my side and I perceive a hand to place on my shoulder.

- I wish you a lot of courage for your new functions anyway. Be careful.

I nod, surprised that he so quickly abandons the questions he had about my motivations regarding this drastic choice for my life.

He takes a few steps away, places his hand on the doorknob, and turns around one last time before leaving the room.

- I’ll keep an eye on Amelia, be sure.

He lowers his eyes for a few moments then gazes into mine intensely.

- And I fully understand your decision now…through these few words and what emerges from you…

- Really? I ask, surprised at this sudden revelation.

- Yes, really…I know what you do…you love her like crazy to let her go…

THE END

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Thank you for reading. But it’s not really the end of the story, I will post two bonus chapters as soon as possible and I hope you will like them. Stay safe and be happy 💛

#greysanatomy #Fic #fanfic #omelia #omelia fanfiction #omeliafics #amelia shepherd #owen x amelia #amelia x owen #Owen Hunt #nathan riggs #april kepner #jackson avery #JAPRIL #bodyguard

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