#under the word ‘implication’. because Sunny made the word ‘implication’ as bad as the words it was hiding | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

erwinsvow · 3 years

Text

𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

summary: uncle eren comes to visit.

warnings: step-cest, jealousy, manipulation, hints of verbal/emotional abuse + touch of dubcon to con, reader feels guilty, grinding/dry-humping, overstimulation, orgasm denial, unprotected sex

author's note: part two of sole salvation. i really hope everyone enjoys this! the warnings are just to be on the safe side as i do not want to accidentally trigger anyone, please feel free to message me if you want to ask about something before reading.

tagging @sangwoos-mom & @divine-delight :)

If Zeke didn’t want my interest to get piqued, Eren thinks to himself as he watches you stroll away, off to get him to a fresh cup of lemonade, he should have kept his mouth shut.

When his brother had mentioned his new fiancee had a daughter, Eren had supposed it would be some spoiled, bratty kid. After all, he had met your mother once before, and he didn’t think that kind of a woman could raise someone even remotely well-behaved.

So given that, he was more than pleasantly surprised the first time he met you. It was all a shock, from the almost angelic way you float down the stairs to greet him, your soft skin and sweet smile, to the genuine look in your eyes when you tell him that you’re glad to finally meet him.

He still doesn’t know what Zeke did to deserve you in his life, the taste in his mouth a touch too bitter when he watches the way you look at his brother, even when your mom is in the same room. It’s dreamy, as though there’s no better way to spend your time and nothing better to think about than your step-father.

It’s a little unfair, Eren thinks, that Zeke has a sweet, doting little thing head over heels for him. It’s a little unfair that Zeke waited so long to invite him over, to introduce him to you. Maybe it was brotherly instinct, maybe he knew that once Eren met you, he wouldn’t be able to think about anything else, just like it had been for Zeke.

Regardless of what it was, Eren knew one thing for certain. Sibling should always share.

It finally takes an unbearable conversation on the phone with your mother for an excuse, an opportunity to arise. The lie is taking hold in his head and spilling out of his mouth before he can even control it—“Yeah, the pipes burst and it’s just a mess, I called Zeke but his phone’s off- no, really? Just for the weekend, I promise- thank you, I’ll be over soon.”

His bag is packed and cock is twitching at the idea of getting you alone in that house, maybe when Zeke’s locked away in his office and your mother’s out shopping. It’s going to be a hot week, with almost intolerable heat, and he’s positive it’ll have you in revealing clothes (no doubt ones that his brother bought for you) and teensy swimsuits when you go for an afternoon swim.

That’s what he’s thinking of—the image of you soaked to the bone, wet hair and the thin, dripping material of your suit sticking to your skin—when he pulls into your driveway later that day.

It’s almost easy enough to miss the slight wobble in your steps, the way your clothes are just a little too wrinkled for someone that’s been sitting around the house all day.

But Eren notices it, of course, and doesn’t miss the way Zeke practically keeps one eye on you the entire day, no matter who he’s talking to, either.

Maybe if Eren was just a drop stupider, a bit less cunning, you and Zeke could get away with all of it, but he’s not. He thinks it’s his turn to have his fun with you.

Your mother’s even more intolerable than he remembers. He wonders how bad a family dinner could be, but this is much worse than he could have fathomed. It’s a whole host of things, like how she’s oblivious to the affair happening right under her nose and her small comments that have your lips trembling and eyes blinking away tears before they can fall.

Jeez. Eren had initially felt bad for himself, but he’s starting to wonder how you put up with it. Maybe fucking around with Zeke is your own way of getting revenge, payback for every ‘Why do you look so tired, it’s not like you’re the one working all day’ and ‘Don’t you have plans with friends, or are you just gonna bother your parents all day?’

By the time dinner ends, you’ve made your way to the kitchen almost automatically, putting away dishes and wiping counters without even being told, as Zeke gives your mother a cold, hard stare.

“Was all that really necessary?” his brother questions quietly, eyes fuming with anger yet still disguising his true reason for being upset.

“What?” your mother responds innocently, pretending as though she hadn’t said anything wrong. Eren watches the interaction carefully. He thinks it’d be better if he didn’t interject on a married couple’s little spat, but here he goes again, words out before he can control them. They’re spoken a bit louder than they needed to be, but he wants to make sure you hear them over the running water.

“I don’t know, she seems like a good girl to me, no? Maybe you should be easier on her.”

And a few feet away, in the kitchen, your heart skips a beat. Uncle Eren—who you’d only met once and heard about a handful of times, someone who doesn’t owe you anything, someone not even really related to you—defending you?

It was enough to make tears rush to your eyes again, a smile on your face as you rinse off the dishes.

Good girl. The words run through your head again, seemingly on repeat. They’re your two favorite words, enough to pick you up from the dark, sullen headspace you’re in as a result of your mother’s cruel phrases and Zeke’s stinging silence.

Zeke claims it’ll become too obvious, even to your clueless mother, if he always takes your side and speaks up for you, despite how much he wants to, he says. You’re so hopelessly gone, so devoted to him that you don’t think you have it in you to fight for it. The words he says when the two of you are alone, how he makes you feel and spoils you rotten makes up for it, right?

That’s what you’d been telling yourself all this time, but you’re not sure how much longer you can keep the act going. Does he think it’s easy to watch him walk into the bedroom he shares with your mother every night? To watch her kiss him goodbye, hold onto his arm in public, while you trail behind like a lost puppy?

It’s not actually revenge you’re aiming for, when you start greeting Eren in the morning brightly, walking straight on over to him in the living room rather than the kitchen where your step-father is. It’s closer to a plea for attention, like you’re waiting for Zeke to realize you can play at this game too.

Eren’s more than happy to indulge you, spending hours of the day beside you on the couch watching movies, or watering the lawn while you work on your garden, claiming that he just wants to help out around the house as much as he can. His weekend-long visit turns into a week, as the ‘good for nothing contractors are taking their sweet time.’

It’s terribly easy to make you believe every word he’s saying, with you even defending him when Zeke asks how much longer he’s planning on sticking around.

“He’s family,” you had argued valiantly, leaving your step-father with narrowed eyes and a tense jaw as he noticed Eren smiling behind you. For once, your mother had agreed with you, and Zeke was left with no choice.

It’s sunny and warm when Eren’s opportunity, the one he’s been waiting for patiently, appears. Your mother’s gone out again, this time to the salon, there’s that hour of time right after she’s left that you usually treasure, because you know there’s no chance she’ll be on her way back or call home.

It’s usually your favorite time of the day, when you know you can have Zeke all to yourself, and that’s what you’re thinking, when you hesitantly make your way to the door of his office.

Truly, you hadn’t meant to make Zeke angry, you just wanted to be there for Uncle Eren how he was there for you. You were ready to make up and forget about it now, dolled up in a new sundress that you hadn’t gotten a chance to wear yet. Zeke had bought it only weeks ago, before Uncle Eren’s sudden visit, and you thought he might like it if you wore it now.

Your hand has just reached the cool metal of the doorknob, just about to twist when you hear a ringing from inside the room, of Zeke’s phone going off.

You step back, knowing better than to interrupt one of his calls. You’re disheartened a little, mind wondering why he would schedule something when you and he both know this is your hour, your chance to be alone.

You make your way back downstairs, lingering on the last step and thinking about going back up in a few minutes, when Uncle Eren’s voice calls to you from the living room, making you jump a little.

“Oh, sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, voice calm and quiet, a contrast to your thudding heart.

“That’s okay, Uncle Eren,” you say, and your head turns back to look in the direction of Zeke’s office inadvertently. “I was just-”

“Waiting for Daddy, huh?” Your lips part a little in surprise, confused by his implication. Though surely, Zeke wouldn’t have told Uncle Eren anything. No, he wouldn’t do that.

Right?

“I-I just needed to ask him something, but I think he’s on the phone with someone,” you say quietly, confused at Eren’s tone, the confidence with which he spoke those words, almost mockingly.

“Oh, yeah. He told me he’s busy all afternoon, something or other about work and a report-” Eren stops himself right when he notices your expression change, looking thoroughly upset that Zeke was busy when you were ripe for the taking. “He didn’t tell you about that?”

Fuel to the fire, maybe a bit too much, but Eren doesn’t care. Not as long as you keep it up, looking like a maimed little prey upon realizing that Daddy was too busy for you.

Yes, Eren was getting much better with the lying. It doesn’t even register to you to question his words, to go back up and double check, that Zeke might, in fact, be waiting for you to knock on his door at this very second.

Your feet find their way to the sofa, slumping down dejectedly, as Eren sits right next to you. It’s the way you two have been sitting for the past week, except he’s ready to take the risk. His hand finds your knee, thumb rubbing the soft skin as you let out a shaky breath, wiping away a stray tear.

“All afternoon?” comes your quiet voice, trembling at the mere notion that Zeke was upset with you. You hadn’t meant to take it this far, hadn’t thought he would be ignoring you just because you disagreed with something he said for the first time.

But your sadness is turning into something different when you look at the hungry, almost predatory way Uncle Eren is looking at you now.

“That’s what he said, sweetheart. Did you two have plans, or something?” It’s coming off nonchalant, or so he hopes, because every bone in his body is excited at the prospect before him, blood rushing to his hardening cock as he catches a glimpse of your exposed skin as you fiddle with the hem of your dress.

“N-no, I just… He always spends time with me when mom leaves. I just thought he would be free.”

It’s the sweet, lonely way you’re looking into his eyes, your own doe-like and watery, that tips him over the edge.

“Well, I can keep you company.”

“R-really?”

“Yeah, baby. A sweet thing like you shouldn’t be left all alone… it’s not right, well, at least to me.”

“Yeah?” Eren nods his head, line between his lies and the truth blurring suddenly as you inch closer and closer to him.

“I wouldn’t treat you like that, if you were mine, you know-” and he can’t finish his sentence, because your hands are on the collar of his shirt and you’re shifting onto his lap, and your lips are on each other.

It’s stupid, you know, to be so easily guided by a few choice words, putty in virtually anyone’s hands if they say the right things and make you feel seen and heard, but you can’t stop now.

Eren’s tongue is in your mouth, your lips practically glued together as you feel his hands go under the soft cotton of your dress, exploring the supple skin of your thighs. It’s not long before his hands find your ass, squeezing and groping as moan into his mouth.

A sharp slap to your ass makes you yelp, pulling away for just a second before Eren’s hand is on the back of your neck, guiding you into a kiss again. You moan again, louder, when his teeth bite down on your lip just a little bit, when Eren finally pulls away.

“Can’t be too loud, remember, sweetheart? Daddy’s busy upstairs,” he says, somehow knowing exactly what would rile you up. The words act like a little shock running through your system, making you even more eager for Eren’s touch.

“Don’t care-!” you mewl, head going fuzzy when you feel Eren’s hard cock grind against your core, waves of pleasure rushing through your body. You’re still, Eren’s hand coming up to cover your mouth as he continues his rocking movement, making you moan against his hand.

Your eyes roll back when Eren increases his speed, and it’s silly, how the barely-there contact is making you shake, the coil in your stomach tense and unwinding, when Eren stops completely.

You whine loudly, muffled some by his hand, but not entirely, causing Eren to spank you again.

“I thought you were a good girl, hm? Don’t get bratty on me now,” he says, though he thinks it went in one ear and out the other as you come down from your incomplete high.

“I want-I want you, Uncle Eren, now-!” Another whine, another spank. You cry out again, until the fourth slap—which leaves your ass sore already from Eren’s heavy-handedness—silences you.

“Sweetheart, stop misbehaving or you’re not gonna get anything, okay?” he coos, fingers finding your chin and directing your face to look him in the eyes. They’re lust-blown too, and his hardness is still evident underneath your body, but your body’s inclined to follow his rules, despite how badly you want to cum.

“Yes, Uncle Eren,” you say softly, your squirming body finally stopping. Eren’s fingers find their way to the thin straps of your sundress, pulling them until they rest on your shoulder and expose your neck and collar to him.

“Tell me something, baby, did you wear this for me? Or for him?” The very mention of Zeke makes your body stiffen, but you’re still desperate for more and eager to please Uncle Eren.

“For you,” you mumble, wanting to just bury your head in the crook of Eren’s neck and feel him inside you, though you know you won’t get what you want that easily.

“Me? I’m so honored,” he says, letting out a laugh at how your body shakes in anticipation but you stay completely still. He wonders if Zeke had to teach you to be this obedient, or if it just comes to you naturally.

He thinks it’s the latter when he rolls his hips quickly, watching you squirm and bite your lip hard to keep quiet, another rush of pleasure coursing through you, though it’s not nearly enough.

“It’s okay, baby, you’ve been good enough to me, haven’t you?” he asks, and you nod your head quickly. “You deserve to feel good, don’t you?” You nod again and let out a shaky breath when Eren moves your hips with his hands, finally giving you the much-needed pressure on your clit.

“Why don’t you cum for me, baby, just like this? Mmh?” You’re letting out little squeals at each contact, hips moving faster and faster as Eren lays back and lets you use his cock as a toy to grind against. His head falls back at how good it feels, though he won’t let himself cum until he’s inside you.

You’re close again, stomach tensing again and that familiar feeling gathering inside your chest, making you feel warm all over as you speed up.

The breaking point is when Eren’s hands come to your chest, pulling down your dress and exposing your tits to the cool air. His fingers pinch one while his mouth finds the other, and suddenly you can’t keep quiet no matter how hard you try, moans spilling out your mouth as well as repeated cries of Uncle Eren, that sound sweet as sugar to Eren.

It’s when Eren starts bucking his hips up too, that you finally cum, a bolt of pleasure running through your entire body as he keeps going. You’re not entirely sure what kind of noises you’re making—everything seems to be muted and fuzzy as repeated shocks make you shake, Eren’s firm grip on your tits being the only thing that’s grounding you.

When you finally come down, forcing yourself away from Eren’s lap and legs pressed tightly together to calm your oversensitive cunt, there’s a lecherous look in Eren’s eyes. It’s screaming to you, silently, how he’s not done with you yet.

“Aw, baby, look how fast you came just from a little bit of humping. Are you that desperate, bunny? Is Daddy not taking care of you?”

Your face feels like it might be on fire, blood and heat rushing at the same time and burning quickly with shame at the realization that Eren knew all along, that he’s been playing this little game with you since his arrival and you never, not once, had the upper hand.

He feels more predatory than ever before, spreading your legs despite how your legs ache and your core is burning—even if you wanted more, you don’t think you could take it—but it doesn’t seem like Eren cares.

“U-uncle Eren, we shouldn’t- h-he might-” you start, but are cut off as Eren presses a finger to your lips.

“Sweetheart, isn’t that a little unfair? If you get to cum, and I don’t? Be a good girl and spread for me,” he says, and you feel your body comply automatically.

Your back’s on the couch now, Eren hovering over you. All it would take is a few steps in this direction after coming down the stairs for someone to find you, but you can hardly care when Eren’s shoving your dress up, exposing your panties and shoving them to the side, your wetness on display for him.

“One day, baby, when Daddy’s not here, I’m gonna fuck you stupid with my tongue—just not today,” and the words go straight to your head. Your heart thuds uncomfortably in your chest every time he mentions Zeke, a sense of guilt washing over you and replacing the pleasure you feel, but you forget all about it when you see Eren undos his pants and take out his hardened cock.

It’s plainly wrong to compare it to Zeke’s, and though it might not be longer, it’s definitely thicker, not as pretty but covered in throbbing veins that you can’t even imagine feeling inside you.

Eren’s about to grant your wish, running his cockhead over your sensitive clit once, twice, and just as you're expecting a third, he pushes inside of you.

A strangled, loud moan escapes your lips before he can cover your mouth again. It’s agonizing, not being able to make a sound as your step-uncle fucks you into the couch, movements picking up and a steady pace filling the room with obscene noises. You can’t see where the two of you are connected, since your eyes are locked with Eren’s pretty green ones, but you know you’re making a mess.

It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before, every thrust stretching you out, you think he’s ruined your cunt for anyone else—but that’s exactly what he wants.

It’s silent, save for the heavy patter of Eren’s balls against your ass with each thrust, the sound of his hips knocking with yours. He’s trying to keep his grunts silent, but it’s getting harder and harder with the way you’re clenching around him, so tight and wet and soft, he wonders what his brother did to deserve someone like you—he wonders why he doesn’t spend every minute inside you.

Your sensitive cunt tightens around him, knowing only another few strokes and grazes on your clit will be enough to tip you into your second orgasm. Your shaky hand finds Eren’s, pulling his wrist away from your face and meeting his lips again, releasing muffled moans into his mouth.

You know he’s close too, from the way his pace picks up, and you pull away just for a second, just to say three words.

“Please, Uncle Eren.”

And it’s enough to make his hips stutter, enough to uncoil the knot in your tense stomach and have your orgasm washing over you, as you feel Eren fill your cunt with his hot cum. Your lips are on each other, the lewd squelching of his slowing thrusts matching the small squeaks you release, until he finally pulls out and your panties snap back over your leaking cunt.

It’s hard to catch your breath, from your position laying down, feeling your tight hole throb and Eren’s cum spill out, probably onto the sofa seat. You adjust the top of your dress, covering your tits and pulling one strap up. When you’re fixing the skirt, you feel Eren’s hands pull the other strap onto your shoulder, hands lingering on your exposed skin.

You shy away from looking at him, despite how his cum is still inside you. It feels too intimate, almost, because a part of you thinks you were taken advantage of, and another part of you doesn’t ever want Eren to leave you.

Eren’s fingers find your chin, forcing you to look up and meet his gaze. You blink quickly, licking your swollen lips and biting the inside of your cheek nervously.

Neither of you speak, though you know what’s lingering in the air. You can tell he’s gotten what he wanted, and he’s going to leave, and yet you can’t stop yourself from speaking first, throat scratchy and dry and your words nothing more than a whisper.

“C-can I… did you- did you mean all those things you said? Before?”

And suddenly Eren understands everything, why you’re this way, why you need to be validated so badly, why his brother’s such a good match for you. He thinks he’d sacrifice anything too, like his marriage and a new life, just to make you happy.

“Of course I did, sweetheart. I meant every word of it.”

“Really?” There’s a soft smile on your lips, your eyes watery and he thinks it doesn’t have anything to do with how hard he fucked you.

“Yeah, I-”

“Well, what do we have here?” Zeke’s voice comes from behind you.

#... uh yeah <3 step uncle eren #eren yeager #eren jaeger #eren yeager imagine #eren yeager smut #eren yeager x reader #eren x reader #eren smut #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger imagine #eren jaeger x reader #aot #fics #tw step cest #tw dubcon

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lockefanfic · 3 years

Text

Business Trip: Pt 43 - Crazy

You’d been with your share of women who liked rough sex - Seulgi, Chaeyoung, occasionally Momo and Seolhyun. But those girls had always been interested in kinks that were at least somewhat consistent with their personalities. It wasn’t much of a surprise that Seulgi was into rough, occasionally painful sex; likewise, Chaeyoung’s preference for zip ties and name calling didn’t strike you as being out of character with the type of person she was outside of the bedroom.

Miyawaki Sakura was either lazy and airheaded or intense and intimidating, depending on what she was doing. Before you were made aware of this new facet of Sakura’s personality you’d only seen such duality before in Sana; but Sana’s personality swings didn’t surprise you like Sakura’s did, nor was the difference between her two poles nearly as extreme as that of the Japanese police officer.

Sakura was altogether different from those girls. She was two sides of the same constantly flipping coin, it seemed. At the moment you were finding out that this duality extended to her sexual pursuits, where she flipped between being an overly friendly, sugary sweet girl to a woman with very specific, very unique kinks on a minute-by-minute basis.

“I’m so sorry about earlier,” she states, the tone in her voice sounding much more pleasant than earlier in the day, especially as it echoed against the cold shower tiles. “I was in the middle of re-reading the Fate series. Did you know the third movie is coming out this summer? I’m sooo looking forward to it. Are you familiar with the Fate series?”

Speaking proved exceedingly difficult given the ball gag in your mouth, and so you settled for nodding.

“She’s going away for awhile, don’t you worry.”

“She better be,” you answer. “I just hope she leads us to the other three members of Blackpink before they lock her up - or that Canadian officer takes her overseas. Did you have a chat with Officer Miyawaki about this?”

“I’ve told her we want time with Rose before she’s extradited and Officer Miyawaki has promised to raise the issue with her superiors, but she hasn’t quite gotten around to it yet,” Nayeon answers.

You both peer into the interrogation room through the one-way glass. On one side of the table sits Rose, her head in her hands. In her prisoner’s jumpsuit and messy hair, she looked outright miserable - a far cry from the dolled up look she sported at the event two days prior. Gone is the haughty, arrogant air that she wore about her like perfume - now she looked small, afraid, almost as if the cold reality of what was about to happen to her had just recently set in.

She hadn’t said a word since she stepped into the room. The young, nervous looking YG-appointed lawyer seated next to her rebuffed all of the questions directed to her client by telling her that she didn’t have to answer anything, as was her right. Rose’s body language, though, told you all you needed to know about her state of mind.

On the other side of the table are Jihyo and Somi Douma, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police officer who had arrested Rose at the event. Both of them are placing piece after piece of evidence onto the table in an attempt to get something out of the Blackpink member - to no avail so far, thanks to her lawyer. The looks of frustration on the two young officers has been steadily building, but it is tempered somewhat by the fact that much of the evidence was simply indisputable. Rose’s silence today would do nothing to keep her from spending a lot of time behind bars when the time came.

The other two occupants of the room, sitting in a smaller table by the exit, are Mina and Officer Miyawaki. The former is diligently jotting down notes from the meeting into an iPad, the latter seemingly engaged in something important on her phone - but given her known predisposition for playing video games on the job and the fact that her phone was horizontal, you decided she was likely playing a game.

“Sakura was super intense at the event,” Nayeon says, as if reading your thoughts regarding the young Japanese police officer. “When she showed up with Jihyo and Somi to arrest Rose, she had her game face on. It was almost scary. She wanted to see layouts of the building, possible exits and escape routes, dossiers on who might be there and who they might be with. She looked ready to take down every bad guy in the entire restaurant, all on her own.”

“I saw,” you agree. “She walked in there like she owned the place. Rose’s bodyguard tried to stop her, but whatever she said to him made him look like a whipped dog afterward. She destroyed that guy.”

“And now here she is at a major interrogation involving multiple international parties and she’s on her phone playing Among Us,” Nayeon scoffs. “It’s like she has an on and off switch when it comes to her job. I don’t get it. To be honest, I find it a little odd that the precinct would bury someone with her on-site skills in the record keeping department and not out in the field walking a beat.”

You take a moment to consider Nayeon’s point. She was right; surely the Tokyo PD could make better use of Sakura by constantly keeping her in the field, where she clearly excelled, instead of the records department where she was buried under paperwork she had little interest in. There had to be a reason behind it all, but you currently had more pressing issues on your mind than the Japanese liaison officer’s career prospects.

“We need to make sure she gets us that time with Rose. Preferably without her lawyer present.”

“That would be against the rules,” Nayeon says, hesitantly. She knew what you were implying and while she knew you weren’t going to hurt Rose or do anything stupid, she felt she had to tell you anyway out of obligation.

“There’s nothing illegal about me having a chat with a lovely young Australian woman I met at an event a few nights ago,” you reply with a sly smile.

Nayeon smirks, but understands your implication. “I’ll remind Officer Miyawaki,” she says.

In the room, Sakura lets out a sigh, rolling her eyes back into her head - her spaceman was likely just bitten in half by an impostor. Next to her, Mina frowns and shakes her head, a look of plain disapproval on her face.

“No, don’t worry about it,” you say. “I’ll remind her myself.”

---

It didn’t take long to find Sakura later that day. She was absent from her desk, but a nearby colleague told you she was on her lunch hour - even though at that point it was nearly three in the afternoon. While your time with Nayeon and Jihyo had informed you that law enforcement officers saw lunch breaks as a rare luxury, you also knew that Sakura didn’t conform to the usual expectations of this particular line of work. With your limited Japanese and a healthy amount of hand gestures, you were able to ascertain from her colleague that she usually took her lunch breaks on the roof of the building.

The precinct proved to be a little bit of a maze, but you eventually found your way to the roof, which, like many buildings in Asia, was open to access and was often used as a kind of recreational space for the building’s inhabitants. After your time inside the cramped interior of the building you were happy to be outside again, enjoying the fresh air and the sunny, crisp winter afternoon.

Sitting on a bench in one of the corners of the space was Sakura, legs crossed, her nose buried in what looked like a manga. The small pile of convenience store sandwich containers and empty candy wrappers that occupied the rest of the bench confirmed that she was indeed on her lunch break. The volume of the trash, however, implied she’d been there awhile, leading you to wonder just how long her lunch “hours” usually lasted.

“Officer Miyawaki,” you say as you approach her, “I’m sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if-”

You are stopped mid-sentence by a raised finger. Without taking her attention from the manga, Sakura reaches for a half-full bottle of Pocari Sweat next to her on the bench, which she brings to her mouth to take a sip. Eyes working quickly, she finishes the page she was reading before turning the page and devouring that one as well. With brows furrowed and eyes narrowed with concentration, there is a clear look of complete and utter intensity on her face that you’d seen only once before - when she was confronting Rose’s bodyguard and putting him in his place.

When you’d first been introduced to Miyawaki Sakura you’d wondered just how she had managed to keep her job given her obvious laziness and what seemed to be an utter lack of interest in her duties - or even in maintaining the false appearance of an interest. But her role in the events of two nights prior, and the seriousness with which she carried herself while on-site, answered that question for you. It became clear that her superiors kept her around because when the chips were down and the game was on, she could put on a game face that almost scared you with its intensity. When that happened, she was almost a different person entirely.

The question then became why her superiors had assigned her to the record keeping department. Was it a demotion? Did they think she was too unstable or unreliable for field work? There had to be a reason.

She goes on for three more pages, consuming the art and text within the manga like they were some sort of life-giving energy source that she could not go a moment more without. You are left to stand there, awkwardly, a little taken aback by the speed and ease at which she had silenced you - but unconsciously, a little afraid of what might happen if you’d insisted on interrupting her reading.

Finally, after reaching what seemed to be a chapter’s conclusion or some other boundary within the manga, she retrieves a bookmark from her bench and marks her place before finally acknowledging your presence.

“Yes?” she says, a look of undisguised annoyance on her otherwise soft, adorable features.

“I, well, I was… um, hoping we could have a quick moment of your time, Officer Miyawaki,” you answer, suddenly unsure of your words, your tongue having turned into stone in your mouth. You’d expected a fast and easy chat - you usually had no problems charming your share of pretty young women - but your resolve had faltered unexpectedly under the piercing gaze of the young officer.

“About?” she asks, plainly, even though you knew what you wanted to talk about must have been obvious to her. What else could it have been, if not Rose? Did she just want to hear you ask for something? Did she want to hear you beg and grovel?

“About the girl, uh, the woman that Officer Dou- I mean, you, you placed in your custody a couple of nights ago,” you answer.

“Yes, and, what about her?”

“I was hoping I could have a chat- er, maybe, some time, with her. Alone, before she, they, she’s, well... taken away.”

“And what would you want to speak to her about?”

“Well, you see, um…. we’re kind of after her colleagues - three of them. They’re in this team, er, corporate espionage group - they’re called Blackpink. I, well, me, my team and I, we were hoping she could lead us to the other three.”

Sakura takes a moment to weigh your request, her large, deep eyes boring into yours. You were a little ashamed to admit you were faltering a little bit under the intensity of her gaze. While you were sure her current demeanor was borne from you so rudely interrupting her reading and not from any malicious intent, it did little to keep you from withering under her look.

Eventually Sakura’s eyes leave you, and you find yourself releasing an inward sigh of relief to be free of her gaze.

“I can arrange something,” she says as she opens her manga again. “But it will cost you. Helping you and that foreign officer during that arrest resulted in a lot of extra paperwork for me.”

You are about to say something about her job and the amount of work she actually had to do, especially given the fact that she was in the middle of what seemed to be a three hour lunch break, but an unconscious fear of being put under her gaze once more meant that your response died in your throat.

“What exactly… can I do f-for you, Officer Miyawaki?”

“Sakura is fine,” she says under her breath as she finds her place in her manga. “Meet me in the precinct showers in two hours. Cancel any appointments you may have this afternoon.”

You are left a little stunned by her demand, and what it might have meant. The possibilities run through your mind at a million miles an hour; what did she mean-

“You can leave,” Sakura states, and not wanting to risk her ire by lingering any longer, you quickly turn and leave.

---

Speaking proved exceedingly difficult given the ball gag in your mouth, and so you settled for nodding.

“Ah, that’s good!” Sakura exclaims, “I’m such a big fan. I totally ship Shirou and Saber, although I’m also a fan of Shirou and Sakura - I bet you can guess why! I like both couples, though; it really depends on what mood I’m in! Sometimes I- whoops, is that too tight for you?”

It was. The girl knew how to tie a neat, tight knot (which itself raised several questions) and the thick nylon rope dug painfully into your wrists as she tied them behind your back, but you gave your head a shake nonetheless. The black cloth blindfold she’d tied around your head was similarly a little too tight for comfort and was beginning to give you a headache - not that you were willing, or even able, to tell Sakura as such.

Even if you could speak, you weren’t sure you would stop her from proceeding. You were equal parts terrified and aroused by the sharp, unexpected turn of events this afternoon had taken, but the thought of stopping the young woman hadn’t yet occurred to you.

“Good, I don’t want to hurt you. Anyway, yeah, I’m sorry if I came off rude this afternoon. I just don’t like to be interrupted during my lunch hour. That’s when I get all my reading done! Because the rest of the day I’m so busy with work, you see. Anyway… you’re all set!”

You obviously couldn’t see her through the blindfold, but the loud click-clack of Sakura’s high-heeled shoes against the shower tiles tell you she has stepped in front of you. The next few moments of silence provide no audible clue to tell you what she is doing, but you knew she was likely giving you a good long look from head to toe, as if enjoying the sight of you sitting on a stool, gagged, bound, and blindfolded.

“It’s time to begin, I think. Are you ready?”

Her tone reminded you a little bit of any of a hundred anime voice actors, particularly those that voiced the sugary sweet and cute characters. And Sakura was nothing if not cute, although she also seemed to have a bit of a crazy side to her - a side it seemed you were about to get to know intimately, whether you were ready for it or not.

You nod, because there wasn’t much else you could do.

“Good! Let’s start!” she says, sounding a bit like an announcer for a game that involved Italian plumbers and dragon/turtle hybrids racing go-karts - and not like she was about to engage in a sexual act with very particular, very specific kinks.

So when she straddles you on the stool, her long, thin legs suddenly on either side of your waist and her small frame atop your lap, you were a little unsure about how to react to the juxtaposition between her tone and her actions. With other women you would have enjoyed the weight of her body on top of yours and the promise of impending pleasure. But with Sakura you were a little hesitant - and as much as you hated to admit it, almost a little afraid.

“So as I mentioned earlier, I’d be happy to set up a meeting with you and that Australian chick,” she says, her voice dripping with sugar even as you feel her trace random patterns with her fingertip on your jawline and chin. “But I’ll need to get something out of it.”

You are unable to manage anything more than a muffled groan, and so you settle for nodding your head once more.

“Good.”

Sakura’s hand drifts lower, her fingertip never breaking contact with you as it drifts down your neck and chest, eventually reaching the buckle of the jeans you wore. Her fingers work quickly, and before you know it she has your button undone and the zipper lowered, your quickly hardening shaft aching for its impending release from its cotton prison.

“Oh! You are quite eager for us to begin, I see.”

You nod.

“Well then, let’s see what you’re hiding under here.”

Sakura’s tone continues to be that of a cute, sweet girl. Her actions, as she frees your nearly fully hardened shaft from your boxers, are altogether the opposite.

You feel the breath leave your lungs in a rush as she grasps your cock in her small, dainty little hands for the first time and gives it a few small, exploratory pumps. It would have been utterly arousing at any other time. But now, wrists bound behind you and with your eyes and mouth rendered useless, it almost felt like your sense of touch was heightened - and it felt utterly sublime. It wasn’t long before you the Japanese police officer had brought you to full, aching stiffness.

“I see now why your team is full of those women,” she observes, a slight hint of edge appearing in her tone. “I bet they love taking turns being filled with this.”

“Mmmghmm,” you answer.

“What’s that? You fuck them on a daily basis? I bet you pump their thirsty mouths and wet little pussies just full of your cum on the regular, don’t you? Maybe those tight little asses too?”

“Yughhhm.”

“I bet they love it, too, don’t they? I bet you have them all bent to your will like the obedient, needy little fucktoys that they are. Is that right?”

“Mmmahghg.”

“I knew it. I knew all of those girls were filthy little sluts the second I saw them.”

To hear such filth come out of Sakura’s mouth - out of a girl whom you’d pegged as being adorable and cute if a little airheaded and lazy - was more than a little bewildering. Each of her words dripped with sweet sugar tone even if the actual content of her words was dirty and nasty. Two sides of the same coin. Two faces of the same girl.

“Well, I think it’s time for us to play a game. Do you want to play a game?”

For a second you are frozen as a shiver of fear crawls up your spine - you’d seen enough horror movies to know that nothing good ever followed that question. But you had to admit that it both frightened and aroused you. Part of you wanted to submit to her every whim, and part of you suddenly wanted to run away as quickly as you could.

You nod.

“Good! I’m happy. Let’s lay down the rules. Hmmm… well, there’s actually only two! Are you ready for them? Are you paying attention?”

It was a little difficult to do so, truth be told. She hadn’t stopped pumping your cock, at an almost lazy pace, with her slender, soft hands. She had begun to squeeze on the downstroke and loosen on the upstroke, causing a delicious little jolt of pleasure to shoot right to your brain every few seconds.

You nod.

“Okay! Rule number one - every time you make me cum, I remove one item of your choice: your blindfold, your gag, or the ties at your wrists. How much time I give you with the Australian girl depends on how good you fuck, I guess! I’ll make the judgement at the end. Rule number two - you don’t get to say anything aside from a ‘yes’ or a ‘no.’ Pretty simple, huh? You understand the rules, right?”

Despite laying down the ground rules for what would likely be a filthy sexual act, Sakura sounds a bit like a voice actor reading the script to the tutorial level of a Mario Party game. The prospect of regaining your ability to see, touch and taste her was appealing, and with the ball gag filling your mouth you couldn’t exactly voice any objections to her rules even if you had any.

You nod.

“Good! Then let’s begin!”

Without giving you much time to ready yourself, Sakura presses her body forward on your lap - and almost immediately you feel the wet heat of her pussy pressed against the base of your shaft.

Before she put the blindfold on you, the police officer had been wearing a short blue skirt and black heels along with the blue blouse that formed her uniform. Had she removed her panties somewhere along the way? Was she ever wearing panties at all?

Your brain had little time or bandwidth to answer those questions - not as Miyawaki Sakura began to grind herself against the underside of your cock, her hips swirling up and down, finding and trapping your shaft between the splayed lips of her pussy and moving, slowly at first, up and down its length. She is absolutely dripping. Her flesh is hot and warm against your cock. Were your mouth not gagged, you would have let out a long, wordless moan - but it escapes your throat as a wet, guttural sound instead.

Sakura, her own mouth unbound, lets the first outward sign of her arousal escape her lips in a long, drawn-out gasp. The entire process - binding you, teasing you, explaining her rules to you - must have turned her on immensely. The slick, warm juices that coated your cock in a thick, glistening layer with each grind of her hips were clear indication of how turned on she was. You found yourself impressed that she was able to hide her need for so long behind her sickly sweet tone.

“Mmmm, that feels so good!” she gasps. “Mmm, you’re so big, and you’re not even inside me yet!”

You nod.

And so for a few delicious minutes you are content to let the small Japanese girl grind herself harder and harder against your cock, her slick, hot pussy pressed against the underside of your shaft, sliding up and down, up and down, up and down. The small shower room reverberates with the soft squeaking of your stool on the tiles, and the soft, pleasant moans of pleasure that leave Sakura’s throat.

“Mmm, fuck, I’m gonna cum already, fuck, you’re gonna make me cum so quickly, mmmmm, your cock is so hard! Do you like the feel of my pussy? The feel of my clit on your cock? Hmmm? Do you want to be inside me?”

You nod.

You are surprised by how quickly she was coming to her first orgasm, even if the heat emanating from her splayed pussy lips as she grinds them against you, combined with the sheer amount of the juices that were now running down your balls, clearly indicated how needy and wanton she was even before she first touched you.

“D-Do you want me… oh, fuck… do you want me to-to cum all over your hard cock?”

You nod.

Sakura’s response is to orgasm.

You’d been with plenty of women before, witnessed the many forms of the female orgasm and the differences in the bodies of each woman when she finally reaches her peak. Each was unique. But even given that fact, you knew that no other woman on Earth orgasmed like Miyawaki Sakura did.

She felt a little bit like she was being jolted with electricity - every fibre of her being quivered and shook like she had a thousand volts coursing through her veins. It was almost unnerving, in a way, and from the way her small body trembled atop yours you were worried that she had hurt herself somehow.

Even the way she orgasmed was far from the norm. The more you knew about Miyawaki Sakura, the more and more you were frightened of her.

But the same things that frightened you also aroused you.

It seems to last forever, her orgasm. When her body finally winds down, the loud breaths that leave her throat and the fact that she has slumped forward onto your chest imply that she is somewhat drained by the experience.

“That was pretty good!” Sakura exclaims once she has regained her energy, sounding once more like she were some sort of video game announcer. “As per the rules of our game, you get to remove one item. What would you like it to be?”

Your options run though your head, each with their own merits. You would’ve loved to finally lay your hands on the young woman, and the thought of watching her cum obviously appealed to you, but the opportunity to taste her won out.

“Mowwffth,” you manage to mumble.

“Your mouth? You want to get rid of the gag? Are you sure?” Sakura asks, sounding the way a video game does when you decide to overwrite a game save and it wants you to be sure of your decision.

You nod.

“Okay! Away it goes!”

Sakura reaches behind your head and you feel the ball gag loosen before she rips it none-too-gently from your mouth. A drip of saliva spills from your mouth - one that Sakura is quick to lick off your chin with her tongue.

Her tongue, feeling long and particularly flexible, traces a path up your chin until it finds your lips. She crushes your lips with hers in a torrid, passionate kiss that had little affection but plenty of need, her hands quickly reaching behind your blindfolded head and pressing your head against hers as she sticks her tongue as far into your mouth as she could. Your tongue wrestles with hers, but she quickly gains the upper hand, and it is all you can do to sit there and submit to letting the young woman explore your mouth at her whim.

When she finally tears her lips from yours she lets out a satisfied sigh.

“Mmmm, that was a good choice. You’re a good kisser! And it will definitely help you when it comes to the next way you’re going to make me cum. Are you ready?”

“Yes,” you say, finally happy to be able to speak.

“Good. Get ready!”

Sakura climbs off your lap, and you lament the loss of her warm body for a split second - until you hear the snap of her foot meeting the stool you were sitting on, followed by a sharp thud of your butt hitting the floor as she kicks the stool out from under you.

You are about to groan in pain at your hard, unexpected landing, about to protest at the way she was treating you - when you hear Sakura step over your body, her crotch just inches from your face. She must have been lifting her skirt to get it out of the way, because when she presses herself against you, you find yourself face to face with her pussy.

There was no doubt in your mind now. Miyawaki Sakura was crazy.

But you weren’t in a position to complain, not with the girl’s juicy, slick, hot pussy suddenly and fiercely pressed against your face, her splayed lips immediately smearing your nose, lips and chin with her juices. By instinct your tongue darts out, almost like a defensive measure. You begin to lick her slowly, hesitantly, still caught a little wrong footed by her ridiculous aggressiveness - but Sakura was having none of that, and she quickly grasps the back of your scalp with one hand and presses it against her warm, wet folds.

“You can do better than that,” she says, her tone still that of the video game announcer, as though she were encouraging a kart racer who had fallen behind. “Eat my pussy like the hungry little fucktoy you are.”

You follow her orders, as much out of fear of upsetting her as the need to finally have your fill of the needy young woman’s body. You start by giving her long, slow licks from the bottom of her pussy to the top, ensuring to add a little swirl of the tip of your tongue around her engorged clit as you reach it. Sakura moans in pleasure as you drink of her, enjoying the pleasant, sweet bitterness of the girl’s plentiful juices on your tongue.

When you decide that the steadily rising volume of her moans and gasps, enhanced by the echoing off the shower room’s tiled walls, has reached a high point, you quickly switch up your technique, latching your lips as best you could around her clit before swiping at it in broad, strong strokes with your tongue. You begin with strokes that begin and the bottom and end at the top. When she begins to quiver and shake, you begin to trace random patterns around her taut little bud.

“You’re doing so great!” Sakura moans, “I’ve never felt anything like that!”

You are almost annoyed now with her tone of voice - not that you were in a position to complain, not while her wet, slick lips were sweet upon your tongue and lips. You continue to swipe at her clit with your tongue, using the flat of it now to ensure maximum contact with the taut bud. Sakura begins to grind her hips against you, almost crushing her pussy against your face in an effort to draw every ounce of pleasure from your tongue as she could.

What a sight it would have been for anyone walking into the precinct showers at that moment. A man sitting on the floor, blindfolded and with hands bound behind his back, while Miyawaki Sakura stood over him, one hand pulling her skirt up and another gripping the back of his skull, pressing his helpless face against the wet, slick lips of her pussy.

Sakura grinds her face against you. You almost struggle to breathe - every time you come up for air, she presses you against the hot, slick flesh of her pussy with the hand grasping the back of your scalp. It was frightening. It was almost too much to handle. But it was also intensely, perversely arousing.

“Ah, stop, I need you inside me right now,” she snaps - the first time she’d broken her tone and shown the slightest hint of losing her composure. “Are you ready?”

“Fuck yes, Sakura. I want-”

Sakura silences you with a raised finger to your lips, just as she did earlier that afternoon on the rooftop.

“Just a yes or no, remember?”

“Y...yes,” you answer, suitably chastised.

“Good. Now sit there and be a good little cock for me to fuck.”

Sakura drops to her knees, straddling you once more. With your hands still bound behind your back you are unable to lie back fully, and so you settle into a sitting position as she sits on your lap. You would’ve given anything to get your hands on her hips, particularly as she adjusted herself for penetration - but you had to admit, not being able to see her or touch her beyond what she allowed your mouth and hips to do only heightened the intensity of your other senses.

She wastes no time. You felt her slim fingers on your cock for a moment, aligning your tip with her entrance, before she drops her hips and takes you inside her for the first time.

You both sigh out loud - loud, breathy sounds that echo off the tile surrounding you. Sakura gasps as you fill her completely, your crotches finally meeting as she fills herself with your stiff shaft for the first time. For a second you regret your choice to free your mouth and wish you’d freed your arms instead, as it would have allowed you to lie on your back and thus let Sakura penetrate herself more deeply - not that you were actually upset at being finally inside the needy, mewling young police officer.

“Oh my,” Sakura sighs, “you’re so fucking big inside me! Now I see, ohh! I see why those other girls keep you around! But now it’s my turn. My turn to use you as a fucktoy. Do you like being a fucktoy for me? Do you like being nothing more than a toy cock for me to fuck myself with?”

You want to argue with her, put her in her place, spit the same vulgarities and names right back at her. But there is a sharp, edgy undertone to Miyawaki Sakura, a kind of fierceness that made you fear what would happen if you did.

You decide to let her have her way - for now at least.

“Yes.”

“Good! Then get ready!”

Any misgivings you may have had about Sakura, about her double-sided personality, about her lack of professionalism when off-site and intimidating intensity when actually in the field, even about the way she spoke so casually and vulgarly about your relationship with your team - they all flew right out the window as she began to ride you. Every muscle in her small, lean body seemed devoted to driving your stiff shaft in and out of her body, each of her movements propelling her up and down as fast and hard as she was able.

For all her faults and almost frightening instability, Miyawaki Sakura knew how to ride a cock.

You supposed you shouldn’t be surprised by the lack of build up to the way Sakura rode you. It was all you could do to grit your teeth and attempt to stay upright as her tight, lithe body rocked up and down, threatening to tip you over and onto your back, which, given your bound hands, would have been quite uncomfortable. Thankfully Sakura quickly grips onto your shoulders, helping keep you upright as she used them for more leverage, driving you in and out of the hot, wet flesh between her legs again and again.

“Oh, oh fuck, you’re so fucking big!” Sakura moans, seemingly barely able to turn her thoughts into words before she abandons the thought of speaking altogether, relying instead on a wordless string of gasps and sighs to articulate the pleasure coursing through her veins.

You grit your teeth, relishing the feel of her tight heat wrapped around your cock as she continued to ride you with fierce abandon on the shower floor. Eager to do something more than merely hold on, you lean forward, searching for and then finding her upper chest, pressing your lips against the small patch of exposed skin at the top of her blouse.

Sakura catches on to what you were doing, and the next thing you hear is the sound of buttons ripping from fabric as she quite literally tears the blouse open.

Were any other girl to rip open a button up shirt to give you access to her chest, you would have been surprised with her recklessness - but with Sakura it was simply par for the course.

Your hungry lips press themselves against the newly revealed skin of her upper chest, greedly pressing against her pale, vanilla skin, licking and kissing and tasting. Soon you find her neck, latching onto the warmth you find there, sucking hard enough to bruise her and leave marks on her otherwise perfect skin. Sakura hugs you tightly against her body, not lowering her pace at all, still riding you fiercely, her hips not ceasing for a moment in their desire to fill herself over and over again with stiff, hard cock.

The minutes pass as the tiny little police officer fucks herself on your stiff cock, the small shower space filled with your wordless moans and the wet slap of flesh hitting flesh.

The entire experience was torrid, fierce, intense. Sakura was so unpredictable, so unreadable - and that was even not counting the fact that you were blindfolded or had your hands bound. Her personality seemed to flip from moment to moment, and while a part of you missed the stability and predictability of your other partners, you would have been lying if you had said Sakura’s sheer craziness didn’t also turn you on in its own unique, special way.

When Sakura cums, her body turning into the same shaking, quivering mess she was when she came the first time, you are thankful - because you were close behind. Her flesh tightens and pulsates around you even more than you’d thought possible.

“I’m gonna cum, Sakura,” you hiss, forsaking for a moment her rule to limit your speaking to simple yesses or nos, and being thankful she was so far lost in the pleasure overtaking her senses that she was unable to pick up on that particular rule violation.

“Fucking fill my tight little pussy with your hot cum, you little fucktoy!”

Helpless to do much else, you allow yourself to finally fall over the edge, letting a deep, low groan escape your throat as your cock spasms and begins to spurt thick, hot cum inside the still-quivering Japanese girl’s wet, slick pussy. Even as your cock fills her with semen Sakura doesn’t stop, still riding you fiercely, still impaling herself with what was left of her energy, pushing your cum even deeper inside of herself with each thrust of your spasming cock.

It’s almost painful the way she slams her entire weight onto your crotch and the cold, unforgiving floor beneath it. You would’ve given anything to just hold her down by her hips and savor the feeling of your orgasm, the feeling of filling a young woman’s pussy with your cum for the first time. But what you wanted didn’t matter. You were in no position to tell her what you wanted, and she probably wouldn’t have cared even if you were.

When she finally stops it is almost a mercy. You are drained of energy like you’d never been before - utterly physically and mentally spent. Your cock still embedded hilt deep inside her, she reaches up and finally slips the blindfold from your eyes. You spend a few seconds blinking rapidly, your eyes unused to the sudden brightness.

“That was a great job! You have one hour with Rose,” she says, her face bright and cheerful, as though she were congratulating the first place kart racer and wasn’t currently impaled with a recently orgasmed cock, filled to the brim with its fresh, hot semen. She grabs you fiercely by the skull and gives you a final, fierce kiss.

“Will an hour be enough?” she asks when she finally tears her lips from yours. Able to see now, you lock eyes with her, and while her eyes are large and bright, you notice now that they are laced with more than a little crazy, brimming just below the surface.

It occurred to you at that moment just why Miyawaki Sakura had been buried in the records department of her precinct by her superiors.

She was a little crazy.

Too spent to come up with anything resembling a verbal response, you resort to following her rules once more.

You nod.

---

“I’m sure Officers Park and Douma have informed you of the charges that will be brought against you, and that your lawyer has conveyed the gravity of the situation you’re in,” Momo states, matter-of-factly. “The evidence is indisputable. Your future doesn’t look bright, Rose.”

“I’m aware that I’m fucked, yes,” Rose replies, making a dismissive gesture with her hands from the interrogation room’s table, where they are handcuffed to the thick metal bar in the middle of it. She had appeared to become even more of a mess since you saw her last at yesterday’s interrogation, with darker bags under her eyes and frazzled, messy hair. “So if I’m as screwed as you say I am, then why are you still here? Come to gloat, have you?”

“You’re here because we want to offer you something,” Momo answers.

“You? Offer me something? Hah! Unless it’s a ticket that lets me walk out that door a free woman then I’m not interested. What could you possibly have to offer me?”

Momo leans back in her chair. She had predicted that Rose would react the way she did during your preparation for this meeting. It was almost as if she had written a script for it - and it was your turn to speak your lines.

“Revenge,” you state, leaning forward on the table.

“Revenge? The fuck do you mean by that?”

“Let me ask you, Rose: how do you think we knew you’d be at that event a few days ago?”

“I dunno. Fucking cops have probably been tailing me from the second I touched down,” she spits with a dirty look towards the one-way glass, even if you knew there was no one on the other side. Sakura had made sure this conversation was strictly off the record.

“Nope. It’s because we received a tip - from one of your friends in Blackpink.”

Rose is unable to hide her reaction, her eyes going wide with surprise.

“You’re fucking lying. Why the hell would they give me up like that?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” you answer. “Maybe you pissed one of them off. Maybe they decided they didn’t need you anymore, getting caught doing shit overseas while they did the real hard work here in Japan and Korea. I don’t care. But if you help us find them, then maybe we can make sure they’re just as fucked as you are. If you’re especially helpful, maybe we recommend a lighter sentence for you.”

“You want me to rat on them? Give up my team?”

“Yes,” Momo answers. “Remember - it’s because of them that you’re going to be behind bars for a very long time, while they’re out there free as can be, living the life. This is your chance to take them down with you.”

“You must have had a safehouse or a base of operations here in Japan,” you add. “Give us the location of that base and we’ll make sure we take them down, without them being any the wiser that it was you who gave up their location.”

Rose bites her lip, staring intently at her own hands as she weighs her admittedly small range of options.

“If I give them up, you get me a lighter sentence? That’s it?”

“That’s part of it,” you answer, as Momo retrieves mugshots of the two Red Velvet members and from her briefcase and places them on the table. “We’re also tracking two fugitives from Korea that you might have heard of - Kang Seulgi and Kim Yerim. Do you or anyone in Blackpink know anything about them?”

Rose takes a quick glance at both photos, but there is no hint of recognition in her eyes.

“No, I don’t know either of those two. If it’s Koreans you’re looking for you’d best speak to the others. All my work was done overseas, as illustrated by your giant pile of indisputable evidence.”

Momo gathers the mugshots before taking a pad of paper and a pen from her briefcase and places them in front of Rose.

“We need you to write down the location of Blackpink’s safehouse,” she states.

Rose takes a last moment of thought before she reaches for the pen.

“I want your word that I’ll get a lighter sentence for this. And that they’ll never know it was me that gave them up.”

“You have it. We can’t guarantee that the judge will honor our request, but I promise you they’ll be aware of your cooperation,” Momo replies.

Rose scribbles an address down on the pad of paper before sliding it across the table to Momo. Momo takes out her phone and opens her map app to confirm its validity. Satisfied, she gives you a nod.

“You’ve made the right decision,” you tell Rose as you stand up and get ready to leave. Momo packs up her things and follows closely behind.

“Throw those bitches into a hole and let them rot,” Rose hisses as you leave the room.

In the outside hallway, Sakura, wearing a garishly pink hoodie now given that she’d torn the buttons off her uniform blouse earlier that afternoon, raises her head from her phone as she notices you and Momo have left the room. Giving Momo a polite, cheerful smile and shooting you a suggestive wink, she enters the interrogation room, presumably to return Rose to her cell.

Also waiting in the hallway, sitting on a bench, are Nayeon and a third woman, who begins to speak as soon as Sakura has closed the door to the interrogation room.

“Did she believe it? That it was Blackpink that gave her up?”

“Yes, you answer.”

“You got the location of their safehouse?”

“Yes.”

“What about Seulgi and Yeri? Did she know where they are?”

“No. I’m sorry, Irene.”

There is a flash of something resembling sadness and disappointment in Irene’s features. It is short and fleeting, but unmistakable. Soon it is replaced with the look of quiet determination that she had worn since the moment she’d joined you in Japan.

She rises from her seat. The short leggings she was wearing did little to hide the bulky tracking device around her ankle, but at least now her hands were free of the handcuffs she had on the last time you saw her.

“Understood. Let’s go - we have work to do.”

---

Author’s Note: Not my best work, I know, but I just wanted to get across how wild (in a good way) Sakura was during sex and I found it kind of difficult to get across that she was good crazy but not insane lol. Not sure how well I did or how clear everything came across as I’d never written anyone quite like her with those kinks. I always want to try writing new things and improving my writing, though. Let me know what you think. :)

#kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #male reader #pov smut #izone #izone fanfic #izone sakura #miyawaki sakura #izone smut

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your-daily-biaswrecking · 3 years

Text

Serva me, Servabo te

save me and I will save you

pairing: photographer!Taehyung x f.reader

genre: angst, smut, slight enemies to lovers

word count: 8.5k | reading time: 45 min

chapter summary: Taehyung and you can't stop bickering, even after what happened. But something brings you closer.

warnings: Dom!Tae, sub!reader, protected vaginal sex, super tiny blowjob ig, slight chocking, dirty talk,

All chapters | Masterlist | Read on AO3

Chapter 6: Behind closed doors

Sometimes, you're having such an amazing dream that you don't want to wake up. Not even when you can feel the wakeful consciousness prying the images from your brain with force, when things start to make less and less sense, and events are repeated in an attempt to keep dreaming. And you have started to be aware of the sounds around the room, the position your body is in, the way your eyelids are heavily closed, and you're not sure if you simply don't want to move, or if you are unable to.

But just as you're wishing to remember the dream and all of its details, the moment you open your eyes, you have already forgotten it.

You were confused for a second as to why you were in your room. Or perhaps the confusion came from why you were in your room, alone- having already gotten used to some company. Then the memories from the previous night presented themselves; the way you had almost fallen asleep in Taehyung's arms and he had helped you walk upstairs and tucked you under the covers. You think the dream that you were failing to recall now might have been what your subconscious guessed -or hoped- could have happened next. If he hadn't left you alone.

But he wasn't there with you; perhaps his presence could have distracted you enough not to think about the consequences of your actions. But you were all alone and free to overthink, regret, agonize. It all felt like the worst hangover, and you weren't even drunk. Like Taehyung was some type of drug you got hooked on from the very first night; you craved him and would do anything to have him at the moment, then could only pull yourself together after it was all over. And you feared leaving now would result in you experiencing withdrawal.

Your phone buzzed -it was plugged in to charge even though you know it wasn't you who did that- and you realized it was that same sound that had slowly woken you up. You found the strength to roll over and grab it. A couple of missed calls; a couple of texts. Yoonji, obviously. You sighed, thinking about how you weren't ready to face reality yet and especially not to deal with your roommate, but when you read the most recent text you jumped off the bed.

"WE NEED TO TALK ! !"

Oh, no. Not all caps. Not two exclamation points, with spaces, too. There was no more time to dwell on anything, you were out the door before you could even blink. And you ran downstairs, looking around all the empty rooms.

"Taehyung!" you shouted but got no reply. He was nowhere, yet again. You dashed back upstairs to look into his room, that one empty, too, but heard noises when you passed by the bathroom door. "Taehyung?" You called again, and after a moment of silence, he answered.

"Yeah?" His voice was coming from inside, and you almost acted out from instinct to open the door. Luckily you stopped yourself, exhaled heavily through your nose while shaking your head and biting your cheek.

"Did you tell Jimin what happened?" you snarled.

"What?" he called, sounding confused.

"Did you- oh, jeez!" You quickly averted your gaze when the bathroom door swung open and a naked Taehyung was standing behind it.

"What are you talking about?" he simply asked, very casual. So casual it made your eyes follow his voice, ever so briefly, and out of the corner, you noticed he wasn't actually completely naked. You hesitantly turned your head back forward, still avoiding looking at him directly because of the way it made your face catch on fire.

Taehyung was standing by the door with a towel wrapped around his lower half. His dark hair appeared even darker due to the water dripping from his locks, down his shoulders. And everything else was exposed; his sharp collarbones, his soft tummy, the small trail of hair in the middle of his chest and right before the towel began. You lost your train of thought altogether. Flustered and awkward, mumbling your words but saying nothing.

Taehyung enjoyed your blushing state for a moment, rubbing his chest with a palm, mostly to draw your attention on him again, before he decided to help you out. "Tell Jimin what?"

Oh, right. "Uh- what... happened." He kept looking at you as if he didn't know what you were talking about. "Last night," you continued, but he still just raised his eyebrows at you, as if he wanted you to say it out loud. You rolled your eyes and took a breath to find the courage. "Did you tell Jimin that we made out last night?"

He chuckled, clearly amused by the way you had described it; like you hadn't done much more than that. "No," he finally humored you and you sighed in relief. "Why did you think I did?"

You shrugged. "Yoonji was all dramatic about wanting to tell me something and I just thought..."

"Hm, well, you thought wrong," he said matter-of-factly. And he looked at you with such a stare, you suddenly didn't know what to do with yourself. You felt bad for the possibility even crossing your mind.

Your eyes down on the floor, you pushed a strand of hair behind your ear and cleared your throat. "And... you're not going to tell him, right?"

"Do you want me to?" You shook your head at his question and he raised an eyebrow fleetingly. "Then I won't." He agreed, but you still felt like he was judging you. You felt like you were doing something so, so wrong and you couldn't even wrap your head around what it was. What could be worse than what you had already done?

"Alright, then..." you murmured, biting your lip and avoiding his direct eye contact once again. "Can we both make a promise? What happens in this Manor, stays in this Manor."

You noticed the corner of his mouth lift up, and he leaned in closer. "Sure. Everything that happened, and everything that will happen the next few days, it's all forgotten the moment we step out of the door," he whispered with a smirk. Then turned his head to force you to look into his eyes. "Is that what you want?"

You could see the satisfaction in having gotten you flustered again written all over his face. The implication alone of his -and your- words had your skin running cold. And perhaps you wanted to scoff at him, put him in his place; tell him nothing else would be happening. But it was more likely you'd be lying. It was more likely you didn't want to make such a promise.

So you avoided responding completely. "I'm going to go take a shower," you announced, turning away.

"Have you had breakfast yet?" he called after you before you had managed to disappear from his sight.

You paused and glanced at him through your shoulder. "No."

"I'll make something, then."

You offered him a quick nod and got in your room. And finally, you could breathe. It was the awkwardness of your first day there all over again, but so different, and so much worse. At least at the beginning, he was pretending not to remember anything; now there was no such comforting thought anymore. Not only did he know, he probably knew more than you; as in he could read your thoughts better than you could interpret them yourself. When you didn't even want to admit how much you liked his lips on yours, he definitely could tell.

And now what? You couldn't understand from your brief interaction what was supposed to happen next. Would you continue your days normally like nothing happened, or would it only get worse from now on? You had a hunch he would go for the second choice. But you didn't know what you wished for.

Your phone had no signal again; you couldn't even see what your drama queen of a roommate wanted to talk about. With the reassurance that it was (probably) nothing that you had done, however, you could go take that shower you had promised. Well, your mind was still being tortured with unneeded worries and scenarios, but at least Yoonji was one thing less to worry about. It's not like you would ever be truly free from Taehyung, anyway. Especially not after the image you had seen earlier.

Damn, he looked like a whole snack. No matter how much of an ass he was, you could never lie about that.

Your bed was made when you got back in that room, sheets smelling fresh. This time you thought about the housekeepers, not the man. Even though you had still never seen anyone else in that house, and it was eerie, to say the least, how they managed to avoid you so perfectly every time, but you just had to believe there was someone there. You had to, otherwise, you didn't know what you'd believe.

You could smell the fried bacon even when you were still upstairs. Taehyung really didn't have to go so hard every time he did anything; you would be fine with just something light, for a change. But no, he had to make a whole meal every day, didn't he? What was he trying to prove? It wouldn't change your mind about him. Or maybe it did, a little bit, when you decided to wear again the cleaned dress he had complimented you on. Like you craved his approval.

"What's all of this?" you said once you walked into the kitchen and the table was full. Two eggs, sunny side up, on each plate with a couple of bacon stripes next to them, fried white cheese, and sliced tomatoes. Just on the plates. Then there was what looked like oatmeal on an extra bowl topped with nuts and fruit, slices of bread accompanied by honey and butter, freshly squeezed orange juice, and filter coffee. "This is a whole hotel buffet!" It definitely overshadowed your pudding.

Taehyung flashed you a grin before pushing his still wet hair back and setting the final touch, the cutlery, on the table. "I thought you'd be hungry." He didn't finish the sentence, which would clearly go something like "after I made you pass out last night."

You chewed on your lip, hating that he was so obviously right, you couldn't even try to hide it. But you still kept your head high as you sat down. "You know, I often skip breakfast, anyway. All of this is really unnecessary."

He pointed at you with a scowl. "Unacceptable! You should never, ever skip breakfast." Then he sat down diagonally from you.

You rolled your eyes at him. "Whatever. This isn't breakfast, this is what I eat in a day."

He cocked his head to the side, a smile being suppressed on his lips, as he picked his fork up to dig in first. "I can't say I didn't warn you about my cooking skills and the effort I put in the next day."

Gosh, he made you so mad. You were this close to telling him to go back to pretending he didn't even know you; so much better than having to listen to him brag about you like you were just another conquest. And the worse part is that you willingly let that happen. And that you're still not in your car, driving back home. Maybe you're just all talk and no action. You keep saying how much you hate him, but really, why don't you act like it?

"You don't have to try so hard to make me fall for you, though," you answered eventually, starting to eat one of the eggs.

"Is that because you have already fallen for me?"

You shot him a glare. "I thought I already made it pretty clear how I feel about you."

Taehyung snorted loudly with his eyes wide. "Right, crystal clear. Absolutely no mixed signals at all!"

You let your hand drop on the table with a thud. "You're insufferable."

He took another bite and smiled at you smugly. "If I am so, you could always leave."

Your mouth dropped right as a deep frown settled on your features. You had definitely thought about doing exactly that, many, many times already. But there was no way you'd do it now that he had said it. No way you would give him the satisfaction. Although, for the moment, you did get up since you didn't want to stay there with him another second. You got up, with a pout, ready to storm out, but...

"I said," Taehyung growled, giving you a stern look through his lashes. "You should never skip breakfast."

You had never seen him so serious. Sure, you wanted to go against him, but it felt almost impossible. Maybe it was just how hungry you were and even you didn't really want to leave with an empty stomach. Your body, as if it was on auto-pilot, obeyed his words and you sat back down. You held your fork and knife in a bruising grip, glaring at him, while you contemplated whether you should pick the plate up and leave, or if that would be kind of crossing the line. Even for you. But before you could escape, the photographer dragged his chair until it was right next to yours. He picked up a bit of bacon from your food with his own fork and brought it to your mouth.

"You don't need to feed me!" you complained, immediately turning your head to the side.

But Taehyung held you from the chin until you faced him again. "I clearly do, since you're being a baby," he said, his expression still very serious. It almost felt like you were being punished. "Now, open up."

"I'm not a baby!"

"I'll believe it when you stop being so immature. Open."

His hand still on your jaw and his tough gaze now on your lips, you finally obliged him and let him feed you. What the hell was Taehyung fascination with feeding people? You had seen it happen more times than what one would consider normal. He fed you two more bites before you finally managed to pull away, convincing him you wouldn't just bolt. You wouldn't disobey. But he still didn't go back to his old spot, simply brought his own plate right next to yours and started eating with you. So close, your elbows were bumping with every move.

"I'm not immature," you spat out at some point, his words still bothering you.

He argued the opposite without even pausing or looking at you. "Says the girl who can't even kiss another adult without worrying so much about people finding out."

Well, the two of you had clearly moved from the phase where everything was secret and mysterious and implicit, to the phase where he could just say everything that crossed his mind out loud, no shame about it. And you -to no one's surprise- hated it.

"I wouldn't call having standards immature," you replied with a rise of your eyebrows and the last sip of your juice. The exact moment you lowered that glass, however, your vision was blocked and your lips were occupied again before you could even grasp what was happening. Taehyung gave you one quick peck and then was gone just as fast. You just widened your eyes to the maximum as you turned to look at him in an attempt to understand what he had done, and why. Where that kiss had come from. If looks could talk, you were sure his would be saying: "yes, I did that; what are you going to do about it?" He was mocking you. Because you didn't want your friends to know you liked kissing him, he was doing it even more. He had the audacity to do whatever he wanted now, absolutely no reservation. And he decided to taunt and punish you.

"Standards..." he scoffed, getting back to his food.

If you had any of those you would have stopped him already. Is that what he was trying to say? You were fuming. Got up once and for all -the food was over anyway- while you pushed the chair back so aggressively it almost fell to the ground. You didn't need to sit here and take this- this- humiliation. But as you turned to leave, you were stopped by a hand wrapped around your wrist.

"I see you're wearing that pretty, fairy dress of yours again," Taehyung mumbled, his eyes raking up and down your form. "I hope you're not planning on going out- it's going to rain."

You tugged your hand away. Now he was telling you what you could and what you couldn't do, too? "Since when did you become my dad?" you spat. Well, that was obviously supposed to be a bash at his controlling and authoritative manners, but it certainly didn't come out as such. And you were wondering why he was calling you immature?

"Well..." he chuckled, giving you another scan with a smirk on his lips, and you knew exactly what he was thinking about.

You groaned. "No! Stop that! Don't even say it. You're disgusting," you quickly accused him with a pointed finger and left the room.

Of course, your first thought was to go out. Just because he had said no. But even you could tell there was a storm coming from the looks of the sky, and getting caught in it while in the woods was the last thing you needed right now. So your next thought was to try and call Yoonji again, vent about how much you hated the famous photographer to someone who actually believed it; someone who hadn't seen you beg for him last night and could clearly deduce you were lying. But your phone was mysteriously gone. You knew, for a fact, that you had left it on the nightstand where it had been charging. But no matter how much you looked over and under and around it, your phone wasn't there. You tried to think about the possibility of you taking it somewhere else, but since you had no signal you knew it was minimal. No, someone must have gone into the room and moved it. Perhaps the housekeepers.

There was some light tapping on the window and you almost thought the crazy man was throwing rocks at you again before you realized it was too much and too fast. You saw the rain droplets hitting the glass and sliding down in a rhythm in front of the grey background. And so it had begun.

You managed to slip into the sitting room while Taehyung was still busy in the kitchen. You would need the warmth of the lit fireplace if the rain was going to only get worse from then on. So you had to infiltrate the room before he had the chance. And you waited for him to appear, maybe even wanted him to, but he didn't. As if he knew you wished to be alone, as if he knew where you were without even checking, he stayed clear of the sitting room. And it was lonely.

Perhaps there was no reason you weren't with him right now. You had already proved that you still liked each other, maybe not in the way you would expect, but definitely at least carnally. And you had also established that whatever happened there, would stay there. That could have easily been the excuse you needed to spend the rest of your days there enjoying it as much as you could, without any shame and without looking back. But Taehyung still managed to get on your nerves. And you were pretty sure you did the exact same to him.

It may be that you were simply never meant to stop annoying each other. You wanted to go find him in whatever room of the many in this Manor he was in, tell him to just shut up and kiss him, but the idea that he would get the satisfaction of winning this stupid, made-up competition in your head made you upset. Even though just last night you were chanting his name like a prayer, by daylight you were still too proud to admit you liked it. Who knows, perhaps you won't have the same hesitations in the evening.

The rain kept getting louder, loud enough to distract you as you watched out the window to observe the scenery and how it reacted to the natural phenomenon. There was music somewhere in the background and you assumed Taehyung must have figured out how to get that old record player in the hallway to sing. The book abandoned open on the couch didn't keep you as much company anymore. All you could do was think about what the boy was up to, think about what would happen next. And you realized things could either keep going up and down, or they could go smoothly. And you also realized you hated the idea of being with the boy you've spent so long dishing, but you hated staying in that room alone more.

You may not want him as your boyfriend or your friend normally, but perhaps the days in this Manor could not count.

You found your way back into that kitchen, pretending you needed some water when you knew you'd find him there preparing lunch. You expected a clever remark, a teasing tone, a sarcastic joke from him. Something that would remind you why you had stormed out in the first place; but were met with a small smile. He seemed happy to see you there like he wasn't expecting it. And he stayed quiet, the way you do when you don't want to scare a wild animal away. So you let your shoulders drop and allowed yourself to get closer, peeping at the pieces of meat he was sauteing. He snaked an arm around your waist as he pulled you to the other side and handed you a knife and the vegetables he clearly needed you to cut. And with another small smile and a stroke of your cheek, you ended up side by side cooking together in almost absolute silence, save for the rain, the music, the sizzling of the food, and the occasional instruction given in the form of a whisper. And you liked it.

The food, as always, was amazing. And Taehyung pushed you until you confessed just that, although he then claimed it was because of your help. The disc that had been playing had reached its end and was doing quiet circles around itself until the photographer finished his last bite and went outside to stop it. When he came back into the kitchen, however, he was looking somewhat perplexed.

"Do you hear those noises, Amy?" he asked you.

You got off the table to face him, too. All you could hear at first was the sound of the rainfall, but once you moved closer to the hallway, you realized what he was referring to. Noises coming from upstairs.

You walked right in front of him, grabbing his arm. "See, Tae? That's what I was talking about. That can't be just the pipes."

Taehyung nodded as the thumping got louder. "And the housekeepers?"

You frowned. "You're saying there are people here right now?"

Clearly, you were alone. He glanced down the corridor and back at you, holding your arm as well. "Then? Is there someone else here?"

Oh, you didn't like that question. You were supposed to be asking the absurd questions and he was supposed to be calming you down. What was he doing, being the crazy one now? "Like... Who? What?"

It seemed like he remembered to be cool, and he shook his head with a chuckle. "No. There can't be anyone here," he said, releasing his grip on you and looking back down the hallway. "It must be something else."

"Okay," you sighed. "Then, will you go and look?"

"Me?"

"Well, yeah."

"Why do I have to go?" he mumbled even though he was still trying not to look scared.

You saw the opportunity and took it; crossing your arms over your chest. "I can't go, you know, since I'm an immature baby. You have to be the man and go check."

Taehyung growled at you through his teeth but shook his head like he was amused. "You're such a princess."

The thumping got worse. You both looked up at the same time, even though neither could see anything through the ceiling and then looked at each other in the eyes. You immediately knew you had the same thought.

"Together?" you offered.

"Yeah, let's go together."

Your hand slipped into his. or perhaps he was the one who sought it, as you slowly walked toward the staircase. Taehyung was one step ahead, checking the way as you followed, and you kept looking back, checking the way you left behind you. Your hands always linked.

"It's probably just the wind," Taehyung murmured when you had reached the first floor, but the rooms didn't look out of the ordinary. Then, a sharp bang came from right over your head.

"The attic!" you exclaimed. You saw Taehyung looking at the extra set of stairs leading further up and sigh, clearly not having the slightest desire to go up there. You couldn't blame him.

"Hello?" Taehyung shouted at the stairs, and you're not sure if it would be worse to get a response or not. It was the latter.

"I told you there's no one here," you murmured to his ear as he slowly started walking up the steps, still having this need to be right. Even in times like these.

The further up you got, the colder it got, a chill running down your spine like a breeze had passed right through you. And your hold on the man got tighter, the force reciprocated right away. The sound of the rain got worse, too, as it was hitting the roof that was right above you. And it was almost deafening. The atmosphere was stranger than ever, and for a moment you thought you'd rather never find out what the noises were; you held onto Taehyung's green sweater and pulled him slightly back, ready to tell him to abort. To just take both him and yo back to safety; if the downstairs era could be classified as such. Save him, so he can save you; the dynamic that seemed to be most prominent in your relationship.

"Hold on," he then mumbled, his free hand holding the one that was pulling him back. "I think there is a window open."

"Tae," you whined, but he slipped between your fingers.

You didn't take another step, keeping one foot still on the staircase, while you watched the boy walk carefully down the small corridor and looking inside the empty rooms. Another bang, that was now easier to locate, came from one of the closed rooms around the middle, and Taehyung pointed at it, before opening the door.

"Ah," you heard him exhale and he walked in without a second thought. You just kept looking at the empty spot he had left down the hall with worry, still not knowing what was going on. "Amy, see, I told you," his voice came a little muffled from inside.

You finally moved closer, until you were able to look inside. Taehyung was closing up a window in a very similar way that he had done in your room the first night. Although this time the strong windstorm was drenching him. He only struggled a tiny bit until he had the lock secured and the current was cut off. He sighed once more, taking a look around the room.

"How did that open?" you asked, fidgeting.

Taehyung shrugged. "Probably same way yours did," he said as he bent down and picked up a lamp that was laying on the floor; probably the culprit of one of the loud bangs that had brought you two up here, along with the doors that must have been slamming and the window casements smacking the walls due to the wind.

"I still don't know why mine had opened like that," you said. It was true, the way it had been so stuck earlier, it all just seemed too suspicious to you. Although you had nothing to base your suspicions on. Taehyung chuckled and walked back to you, placing his palm on your back to guide you gently back.

"I'll tell you how. Old house means weak windows. And weak windows means it's easy for a strong wind to blow them open."

You glanced one last time over your shoulder as you started going down the stairs, just to make sure everything else seemed in order; and yes, the attic was still the same kind of creepy as always, but at least it was quiet. "That, or there are ghosts getting in and out through those windows," you grumbled. Big stretch, you knew that. You didn't actually believe that, or maybe you did a little bit. IT just was had crossed your mind at the moment, and just the fact that you were comfortable enough to blurt it out in front of Taehyung without fearing being judged spoke volumes.

He chuckled and rubbed your back. "Now, why would ghosts need to use the windows? Can they not just pass through the walls."

You threw your arms up in the air. "Oh, right! Great. If there are any ghosts here we won't even be able to tell."

The photographer stopped you then, outside your room, and he turned you to face him. "Hey, hey," he whispered in a reassuring manner, holding your face in both hands and looking in your eyes. "How about we made a nice, warm cup of tea and go sit by the fireplace, huh? Nothing can hurt us there, okay?"

You basked in the feeling of his eyes on yours in such a sweet and comforting way, in a protective character, even if there was no real danger or need. Perhaps that's what made his stance even better; he didn't tease you or mock you. Even if that would be exactly what you would expect from him. Maybe Taehyung wasn't all that you imagined he was. Maybe when he was acting like that, it was exactly that: acting. Because he, too, was tired of your accusations and was giving you the role you had painted for him. Tired or hurt. But in this more genuine and sincere moment where both of you had undeniably let your walls down and gotten close, he was behaving more subconsciously and unpretentiously.

"Okay," you said while giving him a tiny smile.

He leaned in and placed his velvety lips on your forehead. Then his thumb caressed over your cheekbone and he let you go, quickly taking your hand in his, however. "Okay, let's go."

If there was one thing certain about this house, it was that you were indeed safe in that sitting room. Or at least it felt that way. When you were sitting by the warm fire, listening to the heavy rain on the windows and the ticks of the grandfather clock, sipping that delicious mountain tea with honey and lemon, it felt like nothing else existed in this world but you, Taehyung, and that room. This time you weren’t sitting very far; had chosen to be as close as possible, perhaps for a sense of protection. You were both on the thick carpet with all the cushions in front of the fireplace, at first with just your feet touching, then eventually with your whole body pressed upon his and his fingers playing with your hair any time he took a break from working. Until you were both too tired to continue and decided to play some rounds of Beavers.

The rain had turned into a storm. It was completely dark outside save for the frequent flashes of lightning. Taehyung was beating you on the game yet again and the time that you were supposed to go back to your separate rooms was nearing. But every time you looked toward the exit, neither of you wanted to leave. Be it the fear of what lay behind that door, or simply your need of an excuse to stay close, it didn’t matter.

The lights went out suddenly to a crack of thunder. The fire was the only thing illuminating your faces as you looked at the man with wide eyes.

“Tae!” you cried out, messing up your card game in favor of jumping into his arms.

“It’s okay, Amy, it’s just the storm.” He kept saying that, but was it really? “I’ll go look for some candles to light.”

But you held him tighter as he tried to get up. “No! Don’t leave me.”

He looked down at you. “Baby, don’t be scared.”

You just pouted at him, your arms snaking around his torso more. “Please, just stay here with me.”

He must have noticed the way you were slightly trembling because he gave up on trying to get away and held you. He stroked your back and your head as if you were some kind of puppy, only for a minute or two, before the lights were back on.

“Ah, see?” he exclaimed with relief in his voice that betrayed he wasn’t particularly fond of the darkness either. You peeked your head over his shoulder to see the room in its normal state. “It was nothing. It passed.”

“It may happen again, though,” you murmured, your hands pulling at his shirt still.

Taehyung chuckled. “So what are we going to do? Stay here all night?”

You bit your lip. You didn’t want to reply, or at least not truthfully, but for some reason, you didn’t find it in you to be distant anymore. “Is that a bad thing?” you said, your voice no louder than a whisper, and you would be fine whether he heard it or not.

You felt his chest rumble before his chuckle even reached your ears. “No, it’s not,” he managed to say between his laughs.

“Then why are you laughing at me?” you said sulking.

“It’s just funny how you go from wanting to be as far from me as possible, to not wanting to let me out of your sight go so fast.”

Of course. It wouldn’t be Kim Taehyung if he wasn’t boasting his charm and teasing you about it. You scoffed at him. “Just because being with you right now sounds like the better option, doesn’t mean that is always the case.”

“Uh-hm…” he mumbled and his smirk was obvious in his voice. His lowered until it was hidden in the crook of your neck, and his breath came hot from his mouth onto your skin. “And what do I have to do to know if you’ll have me or not each time?” he rasped. His voice against your neck caused goosebumps to form all over your body.

“Well-” you said and your voice cracked, “-I suppose I won’t be mad if you hang around while we’re here. You know, better chances of survival.”

You felt his smile grow as he pressed even closer to you. “That doesn’t go against your standards?”

You had to roll your eyes. Was he trying to get you to be with him, or remind you to stay away? No, he was probably just taunting you. He really loved doing that, didn’t he?

“We already said that whatever happens in this Manor doesn’t count, so…” you finally said, not thinking too much about your words, until Taehyung pulled away to look into your eyes.

“It doesn’t count, huh?” he repeated like he was trying to make sure he got that right. “Then you might as well go all out; do anything you want to do with no repercussions. Right?”

Your whole face caught on fire as he said those words. “Tae…” you began, and he waited patiently. “What do you mean?” You knew exactly what he meant. You were just asking that to buy yourself some time in order to figure out how you felt about it.

“Look,“ he whispered, licking his lips. “All I really want to know is… If I kissed you right now. Would you feel bad and regret it later? Or would you enjoy the moment like it won’t count once we go back to our everyday lives?” You gulped, and he was quick to add something before you had the chance to speak. “And by kissing you right now, I mean tonight and tomorrow and the day after, too. All while we’re trying to survive our stay in this Manor, instead of doing what would be easier and just leaving.”

You could see in his eyes the anticipation and wonder, perhaps even a little worry, as he searched yours awaiting for an answer. You bit your lip. At the moment you weren’t exactly suitable to think something like that through, but you didn’t have to, already having subconsciously decided the answer long ago.

“I didn’t regret kissing you last night,” you decided to admit instead of giving him a direct response.

But Taehyung knew exactly what that meant. The corner of his lips twitched before his hands held your face gently and he pulled you in for a kiss. It wasn’t sloppy and urgent like your previous ones. Instead, his lips fit in between yours slowly, and you got to feel just how soft and inviting they were. He deepened the kiss in a natural rhythm, yet still didn’t pick up the pace; solely let his hands wander further down, caressing your body over your clothes until they reached your hips. He pulled you closer and your lips broke apart just for a moment so that you could straddle him.

You could feel him harden beneath you as you were grinding on him to the tempo of your tongues. Your fingers through his hair, you enjoyed pulling them just slightly in order to listen to the moans he released from the back of his throat. The room seemed to be too hot all of a sudden, and you could barely tell if it was the fireplace or the photographer that was causing your skin to burn. It was so hot you needed to get out of that dress.

You pulled away and saw Taehyung pout, leaning in to go right back to tasting you, but you grabbed the hem of your dress, pulled it over your head, and threw it away. With just one motion like that, you found yourself in just your underwear, sitting on Taehyung’s lap. Lucky you had chosen the pretty ones today. The boy gulped as he paused to look at you up and down, his eyes eating you up with no shame.

“Your turn,” you told him, pulling at his sweater. He obeyed with no hesitation, the garment disposed on top of your own in mere seconds, revealing underneath the same view you had witnessed that morning. And so you had that skin-on-skin contact you craved. And you knew immediately it was him that was burning you up after all.

This time his mouth attacked your neck, sucking and biting, making you moan while his hands blindly made work of your bra. It took him a few tries to open it, which kind of surprised you but was rather endearing. And when that, too, was finally dropped on top of the pile of clothes, his mouth attacked your breasts. Your hands kept roaming down his pants- you needed to feel him as well. But he wouldn’t allow you any room to work; just kept kissing your body like he had forgotten you were there.

“Tae, please,” you chocked out at some point when he bit down your nipple a little too hard. “I need you.”

He finally pulled away, his eyes struggling to focus on your face like he was dizzy. He took a couple of deep breaths to stabilize himself. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. And then ground down on his fully hard member. The fabric of your panties was so thin it felt like you were naked against his jeans, able to feel just how big he must be. You heard a hiss leaving through his teeth before he pulled you slightly back in order to dip a hand between your bodies.

“Let me prep you,” he asked of you, but you shook your head.

“No, please, Tae,” you whined. “I want you. Now.”

It’s not that you hadn’t absolutely loved the way he had finger fucked you and eaten you out last night and you wouldn’t love to have more of that. It was the fact that he had still not even let you see his dick and the curiosity had been killing you for three years now. You could enjoy the rest of his qualities another time; right now you just needed his dick. Whether that was in your hands, in your mouth, or inside you, you didn’t even care.

As if Taehyung could read the desperation in your eyes, he mumbled an “okay, wait,” and got you off him to work on his pants better. But before he unbuttoned them, he slipped a hand in his pocket and pulled out what you soon realized was a couple of condoms, and gave them to you. “Hold these,” he said, instantly looking back down to undo his pants.

You blinked at the protection in your hands. You didn’t know what you expected but it wasn’t exactly that. “You just had these on you?” you questioned with an unamused tone.

Taehyung looked at you after he let his pants fall on the floor and stepped out of them. He had a smirk on that told you he knew exactly why you were vexed. Because he was carrying those around like he knew you would give in that easily. “Do you blame me?” he asked, challengingly.

“Stop!” you immediately whined, falling back on your heels. “You’re literally making me have second thoughts right now.”

“No, no!” Taehyung called out with a laugh, hurrying to grab your body before you fell completely down. “No seconds thoughts, there’re no good,” he tried telling you but you whined again, hiding your face away. He couldn’t help but chuckle at your distraught state while he tried to hug you and warm you up again. “I meant do you blame me when I am living in this house with a hottie like you! That’s what I meant. I would have fucked you anywhere and anytime you asked, so I had to be prepared, baby.”

You scoffed at him but were intrigued enough to look at him out of the corner of your eyes. “Yeah, right.”

“No, really,” he told you with a more serious face. “I’ve been carrying those around since the moment I realized we’d be staying here together.”

You frowned slightly, taken aback by his words. “What? Why?” You finally turned back to him, letting your back lie on the carpet completely and Taehyung hover over your body as he still held your arms tightly like he was afraid you’d try to escape.

You saw him gulp and shrug his shoulders. “I mean… I don’t know if you noticed, but I really liked you that night. And I won’t lie, I have been wanting to finish what we started.”

His words alone made your pussy clench around nothing. Finish what you started… You definitely could get behind that.

You wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him in for a kiss. “Well, go on then,” you whispered against his lips. “Do what you’ve been wanting to do to me.”

Taehyung growled. He kissed you again, more aggressively, while he grabbed your panties to discard them. He noticed just how wet you had gotten for him, but didn’t comment on it, instead taking one condom from you and ripping it with his teeth. Like everything that was going slow up until now suddenly needed to speed up. Like he had been able to wait for you for as long as you need all this time, but suddenly he couldn’t wait another second.

“Let me put it on you,” you offered. In reality, you just wanted the chance to look at him more closely, hold him in your hands, a chance you probably wouldn’t get considering how desperate Taehyung was looking.

He didn’t question or argue, simply pulled back, and finally dropped his briefs down. His dick sprung free, standing up tall and hitting his lower belly. You cursed under your breath. That dick was almost as pretty as that man’s face! How was that even possible; that everything about him was so perfect? It was long enough that it could cover both of your hands when you held it and thick enough for your fingers to just be able to wrap around it. Your mouth watered just at the sight.

But you weren’t about to say any of that out loud; Taehyung didn’t need that kind of boost of confidence from you right now. So you casually put the condom between your lips and lowered your mouth on his tip, pushing down until you had it at least halfway through on him. The rest you did with your hands.

He moaned when he felt your mouth around him. “Where did you learn that, princess?” he asked, not having expected that from you. You just replied with a guilty smile while you looked up at him from down there. Taehyung groaned once more, then pressed a hand on your neck as he pushed you to lie back down. “Hm, look at you,” he purred as he poised himself between your legs. “You keep talking like you’re so much better, but deep down you’re just a slut, aren’t you?” His words made you squirm, your legs almost pressing together if he hadn’t stopped them. With his one hand still on your neck and the other traveling down your chest, your stomach, and your crotch, he pressed two fingers on your to find your entrance. “Aren’t you?” he repeated while licking his lips. “Isn’t that why you’re naked right now, beneath me? Isn’t that why you are about to let me fuck you right now?”

A whimper was caught at the back of your throat when you felt the tip of his dick nudging at you. But Taehyung’s grip on your neck tightened, not too much to cut your airflow or hurt you, but enough to make your mouth drop.

“Answer me,” he demanded in a deep voice. You just nodded, not even sure you remembered what he had asked you. “You’re going to let me fuck this pussy right? Like I’ve always wanted to?” he asked and you nodded again, frantically. But that wasn’t enough for him. “Speak.”

“Yes.”

He smirked. “And who are you letting do this, princess? Say my name.”

“Taehyung. Taehyung, please…” your voice came out tiny and fragile. And he seemed to finally be appeased.

He released your neck in order to grab your hips with both hands as he guided himself inside you. He hadn’t even gotten halfway in and you were already fuller than you had ever been in your life. You scratched on his back as you let his name fall from your lips again and again, like a habit you had picked up last night. He made you wrapped your legs around his waist before pushing all in. His head was already hitting your cervix and he had barely even moved yet.

“Too- big-” you choked out before you could stop yourself.

Taehyung chuckled. “But you can take it, right baby? Do you need a moment?”

You shook your head, closing your eyes tight. “Move.”

And he did just that; thrusting in and out at a slow but hard pace at first, but quickly picking it up when it started feeling good and he couldn’t help himself. “Shit,” he moaned when he started found your g-spot; he could tell by the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you screamed suddenly.

“Right there,” you let him know. “Tae, right there. That feels so good.”

“Yeah?” he breathed in a low pitch. “How good?”

You growled in between your teeth. Even now he craved the satisfaction of you admitting how good he was at everything he did. “So good I hate it,” you answered truthfully.

Taehyung grunted, clearly happy with your answer by the way his hips faltered for a moment. He was thrusting in hard, trying to get the loudest moans he could out of you. And the sounds you were making, the way your face contorted in pleasure, your nails dug in his back and your legs caged him deep inside you- it was all driving him positively crazy. He dropped his head on your shoulder, thinking he could control himself better if he didn't see how hot you looked right then, and all because of him. But you took the opportunity to drive your teeth right on the soft skin of his neck.

“Oh, shit,” he panted while you were dining on his body like you were actively trying to mark him. Like you knew it was his absolute weakness. “I don’t know how long I will last, this is too good.” He regretted having to say that, always proud of how he normally could go for hours. But he meant it when he said it was too good; his chest was trembling from pleasure already and he could only hold back so much.

You moved your mouth higher, biting his earlobe and then kissing it softly, earning a loud groan from him. “Make me cum, please?” you whispered.

Taehyung stammered again but quickly regained his rhythm. “Aw, look at you,” he murmured, pulling back to watch your face again. “Such a good girl, asking politely and everything.” You almost turned away in embarrassment before he leaned down to kiss you leisurely, in contrast to his unceasing hits. “You want to come on my cock, baby?” he rumbled in your mouth. You nodded lazily. “Alright. But only if you remember to say thank you afterward.”

He kissed you again before he moved lower and wrapped his lips around one of your nipples. A hand sneaked down until he found your clit and he started rubbing circles on it. Your back immediately arched towards his body, being already topo sensitive for his touch. And he kept pressing hard on you, the way he had found out last night that you like the most, while he sucked your nipple for the double stimulation. You couldn’t see anything in front of you, and he kept going. You were screaming his name and punching his shoulders because the feeling was too much, and he still kept going. Until you released everything you were holding back and coated him with as much of your juices as your body could produce.

Taehyung didn’t slow down. He brought his face back in front of yours to kiss you, while you slowly felt your consciousness leave your body. Your limbs were exhausted and you couldn’t even hold onto him anymore, but he still kept fucking you, faster and stronger, chasing his own release.

“Thank you,” you remembered to whisper against his lips when you got down from the initial shock of your orgasm. And all of a sudden Taehyung was grunting and thrusting deep inside you, without coming out. You felt his cum even through the condom as his dick was pressed upon your cervix. It was those two words that had undone him.

He collapsed on top of you, puffing and huffing on your neck. And you thought how easy it would be for you to fall asleep just like that; with Taehyung’s naked body as a weighted blanket, by the dying fire, under the heavy storm, in a Mansion that you were starting to believe increasingly could be more than it appeared. How nice it felt, how there weren’t any negative emotions in your heart at all. You weren’t scared, you weren’t disappointed, you weren’t sorry or ashamed. You would do this again right now. Right now as in tonight, and tomorrow, and the day after that.

Next chapter

#kim taehyung #taehyung fanfic #taehyung x reader #bts #bangtan #v #fanfiction #multichapter #enemies to lovers #taehyung x oc #slow burn #Smut #angst #bts x reader #taehyung photographer au #victorian manor #serva me servabo te #save me and i will save you #chapter 6

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januaryisnotanartist · 3 years

Text

Consent Card

Liu Sang has a question to ask Wu Xie, an important request to make before it might ever actually matter.

Ships: KanSang (background/established), Wu Xie/Liu Sang (future/theoretical)

Genre: light whump, tragic backstory (Worship False Idols backstory), pre-sex pollen?, consent is the sexiest of all things

Warnings: Discussions of non-consensual sex, mentions of past non-consensual sex, discussions of Sex Pollen induced Dub-Con sex-or-die, coarse language.

Word Count: 1,327

Wu Xie was alone in a nice, sunny room of the Wushanju, he'd been spending the morning translating some old texts that had found their way to his shop. He was just thinking about taking a break when a light knock sounded at the door of the room.

Looking up, Wu Xie smiled. Liu Sang gave him a little wave in response and waited until Wu Xie gestured for him to enter before he actually stepped into the room.

“Liu Sang,” Wu Xie put his pen down and pushed his work away a little, giving the strangely nervous looking Liu Sang his full attention.

“Wu Xie,” Liu Sang greeted him, hands fidgeting with the zipper on his jacket. “Is now a bad time?”

“No, I was just about to take a break anyway, is everything okay?”

Liu Sang shrugged, and his mouth opened and closed slightly several times like he was choosing and discarding things to say. He shifted his weight repeatedly, and Wu Xie held up a hand in a 'wait a second' gesture. Wu Xie left his chair for a few seconds to drag a spare stool over for Liu Sang to sit on.

When they were both sitting, Wu Xie asked, “is it that hard to say?”

“Would you have sex with me?” Horror filled Liu Sang's face before Wu Xie could even register what had been said, and the younger man held up his hands even as he drew back into himself with a loud “No!” His face was scrunched like he was preparing to be hit, or to cry.

“I...” Wu Xie wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he waited for Liu Sang to explain himself.

Liu Sang slowly calmed down from his state of horror, though he was looking anywhere but Wu Xie.

After a long few moments, Liu Sang pushed his glasses more firmly back up his nose, his face flushed with embarrassed red. He mumbled “I should have brought Kan Jian for this conversation,” and Wu Xie couldn't help himself.

“Is this about a threesome?”

The abject horror and disgust on Liu Sang's face cleared that question up very quickly.

Liu Sang tugged at his jacket, fishing frantically through the pockets until he pulled out a card wallet. He opened it and flipped through the cards with shaking fingers, finally drawing out a thin white card and shoving it at Wu Xie, his face somehow even redder than before.

Wu Xie felt a headache starting from how hard his eyebrows were furrowed, because it looked like Liu Sang was one 'boo' away from crying, and Liu Sang wasn’t the type to cry easily.

He looked down at the card he'd been handed.

In the instance of being psychologically impaired by substances, if my life can only be saved by the act of Sexual Intercourse, I, Liu Sang, give prior and previously agreed upon consent for the act to ONLY the following people:

1) Kan Jian

Wu Xie's eyebrows unfurrowed and made for his hairline. “So...”

“I don't know if Pangzi was joking about the sex pollen the other night, but Kan Jian and I were talking,” Liu Sang started speaking quickly, like he was scared he'd lose the words if he didn't get them out in time. “There's a lot of weird shit that goes on in, and comes out of, tombs, and since meeting you I've seen some things I would have said couldn't have existed, so we thought, if it is real, what would happen if one of us were affected by it.”

Wu Xie did his best to keep up as Liu Sang spoke, the younger man's hands fiddling with the card wallet with almost manic energy.

“So you two decided that just in case, you'd get mutually informed consent for emergency life saving sex?”

Liu Sang nodded, “yes, because it's important. It's one thing to say 'these are the people I'd let fuck me rather than die,' but what if you aren't comfortable having sex with me? Because the whole 'the victim will die otherwise' removes your ability to consent properly, any consent given under those circumstances would be... suspect at best, it's under duress.”

Wu Xie hummed lightly as he considered it, looking over Liu Sang's anxious form.

“Are you sure you'd be okay with me having life saving sex with you? You didn't want to ask Xiaoge first?” Wu Xie regretted his attempt at teasing as Liu Sang flinched again, looking for a few too many seconds like he wanted to vomit.

“I...” Liu Sang was back to looking like he was about to cry, and Wu Xie felt like an asshole.

“I'm sorry, that was inappropriate, I just... I know you like Xiaoge a lot, and I know he'd give consent for you, so I'm wondering why it looks like I'm the second person you've asked.”

“Because you are.” Liu Sang's breath was shaky, but after a long pause he continued.

“I don't know how many of the rumours you've heard about me, but most of them... have some truth to them. When I was very young, Ouxiang saved me from some bad people. It... it wasn't the purpose of him being there, just a side effect, but he's... the idea of him in my head is very... the opposite of sex.”

Wu Xie felt like he wanted to be sick as the implications sunk in.

“I... don't feel super comfortable with the idea of sex, I mean, I like it with Kan Jian, and I like that he doesn't assume that me saying yes once means he always has permission, I had a boyfriend before Kan Jian and he... he didn't feel like he needed to ask, or that he needed to respect when I said no...”

Wu Xie made a mental note to find out the ex-boyfriend’s name and if he was still alive.

He used Liu Sang's pause to ask, “so who's after me on the list of people to ask?”

“No one,” Liu Sang replied, “for me, right now, it's Kan Jian, and maybe you, and then I'd rather just die.”

Wu Xie felt both honoured and horrified by the responsibility and trust being handed to him.

“Liu Sang, if it comes down to it, I consent to live saving sex with you to save your life.”

Liu Sang let out a sigh of relief and relaxed, and Wu Xie was alarmed to realise just how tense and wound up Liu Sang had gotten.

“Thank you,” Liu Sang held out one hand, still slightly trembling, and it took a second for Wu Xie to remember he was still holding Liu Sang's consent card and hand it back. As the card was put back in the wallet, Wu Xie's brain snagged on part of their conversation.

“Hang on, when you say you 'like it with Kan Jian' and ‘boyfriend before Kan Jian’ ...”

Liu Sang looked at Wu Xie, his face slipping into an expression that made it clear he thought Wu Xie was some kind of dumbass.

“Kan Jian and I have been dating for ages now, our one year anniversary is literally two month away.”

“Why didn't I know about this?” Wu Xie felt affronted, how could they not have told him.

Liu Sang rolled his eyes and stood, dragging his stool back to it's previous place, “you've seen us hanging off each other, we are constantly clingy, what part of that was confusing for you? And yes, Kan Jian and I also spoke about who other than each other we'd give...” Liu Sang wrinkled his nose in distaste, “'live saving sex' consent to.”

Wu Xie watched as Liu Sang left, another little wave in place of a verbal 'goodbye'.

Did everyone else know those two had been dating? Wu Xie had to call Pangzi.

#dmbj #tltr #lost tomb reboot #reunion: the sound of the providence #liu sang #wu xie #i don't know if i should tag this as:#kansang #fics from the tomb #this isn't what i planned to write today #sad boi hours for liu sang again #why do I keep hurting him this way?#should I have saved this for whumptober?

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angelofthequeers · 4 years

Text

Not a Good Look: Chapter 1

Summary: In which Marinette, Adrien, and their friends accidentally stumble on secret identities galore through the implications of a grown man making a deal with a teenage girl.

Aka Gabriel's deal with Lila comes back to bite him where it hurts.

Pairings: Adrigaminette, DJWiFi

Chapter 2 | AO3 link

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

“I swear to god, I can’t take another minute of her!” Adrien runs his fingers through his hair, resisting the urge to yank because his father will most certainly know if he’s missing so much as one hair on his head. ““Oh, Adrien and I work so well together! I’m his father’s new muse!” She doesn’t have a lick of talent for modelling!”

“That’s it,” Marinette says soothingly, for once not stammering like she usually does when he’s within ten feet of her. “Let it all out now, while you can.”

“Why do you even put up with her?” Kagami adds, depositing her fencing bag on the floor of the boys’ locker room so that she can sit next to Adrien on the bench. Marinette sits cross-legged on his other side, face flushing pink when their arms brush together. “Yes, she may be your father’s new “muse”, but you don’t have to tolerate her outside photoshoots.”

“I kind of do,” Adrien says. “Father told me that she’s the only friend he approves of and that he’ll restrict my freedoms if I don’t play nice with her. You know, that’s why I’m having this conversation in a locker room and only because fencing finished early. But it’s not just that; if I don’t put up with her, she’ll go after Marinette again. And after she got Marinette expelled, I’ll be damned if I let anything happen again.”

“What?” Marinette’s eyes bulge. “Adrien, no, this is my fight, you shouldn’t have to let her hang off you and make you uncomfortable for me!”

“Yeah. I do.” Adrien turns to grab her hands, wondering why this causes her to squeak and turn the colour of a ripe tomato. “You’re one of my best friends, Marinette. I couldn’t just stand by and let Lila ruin you like that when there was something I could do.”

“But see you don’t?” Marinette shakes her head and tries again. “Don’t you see? You’re rewarding her for it!”

“Marinette’s right,” Kagami says. “She still gets to lie to everyone, but so long as she doesn’t openly twist Marinette into the villain, she gets everything she wants.”

“Well, what else can I do?” Adrien throws his hands in the air. “If I tell her to shove off, she’ll go tattling! She must have, like, some kind of deal going on with my father, because he didn’t even know she existed before the Oni-Chan thing! Sorry,” he hurries to add. Kagami just shrugs, not visibly hurt by his reminder of her second akumatisation.

“Actually…that makes sense,” Marinette says slowly. When Adrien looks around at her, her brow is furrowed and she’s idly stroking her chin with her thumb, and for a split second, she resembles Ladybug so much that the breath is punched out of Adrien’s lungs. Then he blinks and she’s back to full-of-nervous-energy Marinette. “Something must have happened. She has no skill as a model – and I’m not saying that because I hate her – she just doesn’t have the stance and her face is all off and she’s so…robotic about it –”

“I’m definitely not disagreeing with you there,” Adrien chuckles despite himself. How does Marinette always manage to get a smile out of him even when he’s in the foulest of moods?

“Not to mention that there’s clearly no chemistry between you and her,” Marinette adds. “And everyone knows that you have to have chemistry between the models, or the shoot falls flat. Plus, there’s no reason for your father to approve of her but not everyone else. She’s a good liar, yeah, but your father doesn’t seem like someone who takes people at face value, and he must be able to recognise shifty people who are just lying to get ahead and use connections. It makes sense that she could’ve made a deal with him…but what?”

“Probably to spy on me,” Adrien mutters. Then he freezes, and on either side of him, Marinette and Kagami also stiffen.

“Of course,” Kagami says with a derisive snort. “That’s exactly the sort of thing your father would do.”

“But what can we do about it?” Marinette says. “That’s not right! And it doesn’t look right either! A grown man making a deal with a teenage girl for favours?” She wrinkles her nose. “Not a good look.”

“Maybe we can do something about it!” Adrien leaps to his feet and snaps his fingers, addressing his captive audience. “Evidence! We can find evidence that they’ve made a deal!”

“And what do you propose we do with that evidence?” Kagami says. Adrien jabs a finger at her.

“Prove that she’s a shifty snake!” he says. Kagami raises an eyebrow at that. “I know I told Marinette to take the high road, but that was when I thought she was just an attention seeker. You know, typical teenage, ‘ignore her and she’ll go away or realise that she needs to shape up’ brat. But this…she’s dangerous, you two. She got Nathalie and my bodyguard in trouble. She got Marinette expelled. And, uh…I was hiding nearby when you were Oni-Chan, Kagami. She deliberately distracted Chat Noir so that Oni-Chan could defeat Ladybug.”

“Well, what’s the plan?” Marinette says, while a dark storm crosses Kagami’s face. Adrien blinks at her.

“Sorry? The plan?”

“You don’t really think we’re going to let you charge off with a half-baked idea by yourself, do you?” Kagami says with a raised eyebrow, still scowling. It makes her look both adorable and terrifying at the same time…but is Adrien even allowed to think that when they’re having a temporary break from their relationship? “Marinette and I are with you, Adrien. What’s the plan to figure out if Lila and your father have made a deal?”

“I…actually didn’t think that far ahead,” Adrien admits. “I don’t know how we could get that evidence. Father would find out for sure if we were sneaking around, and there’s no way I could lead the conversation in that direction. I don’t even see him long enough to ask him how his day was.”

“Hmm.” Marinette chews her bottom lip. For some reason, the sight warms Adrien from the inside out, and he doesn’t realise that he’s physically leaning closer to drink in Marinette until Kagami tilts her head at him and he takes a step back with flushing cheeks. “I think I might have an idea. Leave it with me, okay?”

“Okay. I trust you, Marinette,” Adrien says, and he’s surprised to find just how firmly he believes those words.

The next day, once the final bell rings, Marinette catches up to Adrien with the single-minded focus of a heat-seeking missile before he can get out the school gates and she loses him. He jerks when she catches his arm, so she lets go with a mumbled apology, but he shakes his head and grabs her hand.

“It’s okay,” he says. “I thought you were Lila.”

“I still shouldn’t have touched you without asking,” Marinette says. Adrien shoots her a sunny smile that nearly makes her faceplant as her knees wobble under its force.

“You never touch me like other girls do,” he says. “You’re never…you know, rough and possessive about it. I like it when you touch me.”

“I like it when you touch me.” Oh. Oh dear. If Marinette hadn’t been about to fall two seconds ago, she’s definitely ready to keel over and die right now.

“Managed Ladybug!” she blurts out, then groans and ducks her head. “I managed. To catch Ladybug. God, I’m a mess.”

Adrien looks around, then mutters, “No Lila. Thank god,” and steers Marinette towards his waiting car. Thankfully, she manages to keep it together as he holds the back door open for her and then slides in after her with an explanation to his bodyguard about a study date with a friend – a date, a study date, but a date! – thanks to his cancelled fencing class. Not that his father needs to know that the friend he’s studying with isn’t Kagami or Lila, even if Marinette knows that he uses that term in the loosest possible way regarding the latter.

When Adrien turns to her with a small, hesitant smile that makes her stomach flutter with ladybugs, she opens her mouth to bring up the plan, but her one semi-functioning brain cell realises that it’s probably not a good idea to be spouting ideas of espionage against Gabriel Agreste in front of one of his employees, even if said employee is going behind his employer’s back right now, so she takes a deep breath to both swallow her words and calm herself down.

“Can I ask you something, Marinette?” Adrien says.

“Yure! Shes!” Marinette nods rapidly, then groans. “Sure! Yes!”

Adrien indicates her. “That. The stammering. The nerves. Do I…unsettle or intimidate you?”

“What? No! Of course not!” Well, he does unsettle her, but not for the reasons he thinks!

“Are you sure?” Adrien’s brow furrows. “Did I do something? I know I messed up on my first day and then with the wax museum thing, so if you still have hard feelings or something –”

“Nononono!” Marinette shakes her head so rapidly that her pigtails smack her in the face. “Trust me, I forgave you!”

“Then why are you so nervous around me?” Adrien says. “Is it because I’m Adrien Agreste? I know you want to be a fashion designer, but I swear, being friends with me won’t look like you’re using me or affect your chances –”

“It’s not that either.” Marinette slumps in her seat and closes her eyes, her heart racing so fast that it’s two seconds from beating out of her chest. After all her stress, all her frantic planning and failed attempts, is this how she finally confesses? “I…I l-lo – I can’t do this!” She tries to hide her face in her hands, but Adrien catches her wrists and gives her that sweet smile of his that melts her insides and is so not helping right now!

“Is it anything bad?” he says. Marinette wordlessly shakes her head. “Then it’s okay if you can’t tell me. As long as I know you don’t secretly hate me or something…”

“IloveyouAdrien!”

#miraculous ladybug #ml fic #aotq fic #aotq: nagl #adrienette #love confession #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #kagami tsurugi #anti lila #anti lila rossi #marinette and her convoluted plans #post season 3 #guardian marinette

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Down with the Recipe, Bake from the Heart, 2/10 (Multi) - Juno

Chapter summary: It’s cake week, and the bakers have to deal with a fruity signature, a tangy technical, and a showstopper that should be child’s play. Surely nothing can go wrong. Meanwhile, Aurora is looking forward to cake week, and not just to see Tayce again, and Asttina has an admirer of her own.

A/N: Thank you for your support so far on this fic!! I hope you enjoy the second part of this.

WEEK 2: CAKE WEEK

Aurora knew cakes like the back of her hand.

Cake had been her gateway into baking as a teenager. Whenever she’d had a bad day at school, she could spend a couple of quid at the local Aldi on some filling ingredients, bring them home, find her nan’s flour, and bake them into something beautiful, something that everyone would love. Baking a cake would always be available to her to ground her, and to remind her that pouring positivity into things made them seem light as air.

Arriving for filming the second week was nowhere near as daunting as the first. Biscuit week had been a little bit of a concern for Aurora, whose biscuits tended to crumble as soon as she looked at them, but she forced herself not to think about it any more, pushing it to the past where it belonged. She came in now, her cake recipes in her head and on her paper, feeling better than she had all of last week.

I survived biscuit week. But I can really excel in cake week! This is exactly what I know. I can make a Vicky sponge in my sleep with one hand behind my back and a sleep paralysis demon on my chest. It’s mine to win.

As Pip had gone home at the end of the last episode, Aurora’s side of the desks had all been shuffled up by one person to account for that. Her side of the room now had Asttina at the front, then Ginny, Lawrence, Ellie, and finally Aurora on the fifth bench instead of the back.

Instead of being opposite Tayce, she was opposite Cherry this time. Their side was unchanged - Bimini at the front, then Joe, Tia, Veronica, Cherry, and Tayce at the back. Cherry’s pillar-box red KitchenAid gleamed in the sunlight - it was starting to get sunny again - and Aurora saw that her own was in similar condition, the turquoise colour as bright as if it was the first week again. Good as new.

She managed to calm her breathing, but her fingers still drummed on the workbench, and she couldn’t stop them for more than a few seconds.

I can do this. I can do this.

——

Signature: Fruit Cake

“For your Signatures this week,” Matt began, “the judges would like you to bake a fruit cake. Any fruit is allowed - “

“ - but no vegetables. We can’t have vegetables sneaking into the tent disguised as a fruit.”

“Maybe a tomato.”

“Matt, a tomato is technically a fruit, even if no one wants tomato cake.”

Aurora giggled at Matt and Noel’s back-and-forth, but really, she wanted to get on with her bake. All her baking knowledge felt like it had lodged herself at the very front of her mind, and any slight distraction could let it tumble back down again into the abyss, lost forever - or at least until the baking time was over.

When they finally announced “BAKE!” Aurora dove into her bag to grab her ingredients. Flour, butter, sugar, eggs. Flour, butter, sugar, eggs.

“What are you baking?” Ellie didn’t even last a minute this week before she had turned round to talk to Aurora, but she kind of wished she wouldn’t, from the amount she chatted last week after getting over her initial shyness. Aurora was trying to concentrate; she had to pour her whole focus into this, or it just wouldn’t taste good.

“Apple cake,” she said simply, wondering if Ellie would take the hint.

“Oh. I’m making rhubarb and custard!” Evidently Ellie hadn’t, and Aurora bit her tongue behind her forced smile. “That was my favourite when I was a kid, did you have lots of rhubarb and custard as well? This one time me and my brother …”

“Have you got nothing better to do than prattle on to Aurora?” Lawrence’s voice from the bench in front of them was even louder than Ellie’s, her hands on her hips as she swooped in to save the day, an unconventional Wonder Woman. “She’s trying to bake a cake, and so should you!”

“I am baking a cake -“

Ellie spun back to face Lawrence, and Aurora took the opportunity to make a quick getaway to the tea tent for a break. From her experience being behind Ellie last week, the woman could talk all day, and that wasn’t what Aurora needed, much as she had warmed to her.

By the time she’d poured herself a fresh brew, Ellie and Lawrence were both at Lawrence’s desk, apoplectic with laughter, faces and hands covered in flour, while the cameras had sprinted down to record this golden television moment.

Viewers tune in for baking and get a flour fight. And that’s why the nation loves this show.

——

“I’m gonna have to start again!”

That phrase was starting to sound like a broken record from Tia’s desk, on the other side. The woman might not normally be a disaster in the kitchen, but so far they’d done four challenges, and this was the third time she’d announced she was restarting. Her normally orange KitchenAid was splattered deep purple from the blackberries she’d somehow managed to spray all over the side in an effort to make jam. Some of it had even gone into the cake mixture, and she was running her fingers through her curly hair, turning to Veronica on the bench behind her and laughing dryly.

“What have you done?” Veronica’s tone always softened when Tia talked to her. That was something Aurora had already noticed, and it was … interesting, to say the least.

“Messed up my cake mix,” Tia shook her head, still laughing. “How long do we have left?”

Veronica looked at one of the five timers she’d set up. “An hour, twenty three minutes, and fifteen seconds - fourteen - thirteen -“

“Okay, okay!” Tia waved her hand. “Do you - d’you think I have time?”

“If you’re really precise,” Veronica nodded grimly, “then you should just about do it. You’ve done the jam, you’ve done the icing … you just have to bung the cakes into the freezer straight away so they have enough time to cool.”

“Oh, good.” Tia sighed. “Let’s hope I don’t mess it up again! Thanks, Vee.”

Veronica reserved her quota of smiles for Tia alone, so it seemed, because this smile was the first real one any of them had seen from Veronica. Nervous, pinched, but there it was all the same.

“Yeah,” Aurora called over to them, hoping to join in, “thanks Vee, and can you make it for Tia if she messes up the jam again?”

She’d meant it as a joke, good-natured, to try to brighten the anxiety forming a cloud between the two of them. It had the desired effect on Tia, whose expression slackened into an ironic grin; but Veronica’s face immediately became stony, her eyes surprisingly cold as she glared at Aurora, before turning back to her KitchenAid.

“It’s just a joke -”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t very funny.” Veronica snapped. “It’s not very nice to comment on things like that. Oh great - now I’ve over-weighed the sugar. Thanks, Aurora.”

Aurora opened her mouth to protest - Veronica’s implication felt unfair - but she was taken aback by the sound of gentle, muffled laughter; Tayce was still behind Cherry, a hand over her mouth, giggling to herself.

——

“I was laughing at Veronica! Blaming you for weighing out her own sugar wrong!” Tayce exclaimed as Aurora chewed her nail during the break before Technical.

“Maybe I went too far … maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“She’s just too sensitive.” Tayce flipped her hair behind her back. “Everyone could see you were just joking! Tia saw the funny side, and I bet Veronica’s probably already forgotten it. Forgive and forget, right? It’s just baking! It’s not all that serious!”

“Yeah but …” Aurora trailed off, looking over at the two of them, by the door to the outside, hovering as if trying to decide to go out.

Tayce chuckled. “And Tia’s got a few disasters under her belt, hasn’t she? The wagon wheels last week where all the chocolate melted? Her Signature this week? It’s only week two!”

Aurora opened her mouth, but closed it again.

This is how it all starts. One misunderstood joke, and suddenly I’m an evil bitch.

Cakes were meant to calm her, but suddenly cakes were linked to this show, and now intertwined with making another contestant upset. A golden opportunity to shed her still-lingering hometown reputation as a Bad Girl; scuppered before the end of the second week.

I may as well just get eliminated now.

Aurora broke away from Tayce to go to the table of cakes, where everyone’s was laid out in a row. Ginny and Bimini were standing there, Ginny piling a slice of Tia’s cake - which she’d called “Bananadrama cake” - on top of Bimini’s vegan orange cake, but both turned when Aurora approached.

“Hey!” Bimini said, grabbing her shoulder. “That apple cake you made, with the toffee apples on the top? That looked amazing. If it was vegan I’m sure I’d love it, but Gin said it was good!”

“It was a treat for the taste buds, Aurora, an absolute treat,” Ginny nodded, their eyes crinkling up kindly.

“Congratulations on getting the first Hollywood handshake, Ginny!” Aurora smiled mechanically, but Ginny’s smile spread from ear to ear. “I bet you’re never gonna wash your right hand ever again!”

“Definitely not,” Ginny nodded, holding up their right hand to their face and wiggling their fingers. “Not after I broke the seal on the Hollywood Handshakes, first one of the season! I hope they’re all talking about it on Twitter by now -“

“Will make a change from them talking about your obsession with lemons,” Bimini nudged them, causing Ginny to glare at them with mock disgust.

“Cheeky. My lemon drizzle Signature is a labour of love. You have no idea how long I spent perfecting that recipe, Bimini Bon Appetit.”

“You know what, Gin? I believe you.”

“Is there any of your lemon drizzle left?” Aurora asked.

“Yes! Fancy a sloooice?” Ginny yelled the last word in the same way she’d yelled it when she’d initially presented it to the judges.

“Erm, yeah I do!” Aurora grabbed the knife to cut herself a piece of Ginny’s handshake-worthy lemon drizzle cake, wondering if there was nothing that Ginny wouldn’t put lemon into if given the chance. Bimini stroked Ginny’s bag, putting their plate down.

“I love your bag, where did you manage to find a bag with the non-binary flag colours on it? I kept meaning to ask you last week, I saw it and I immediately went ‘Yes, another enby, the enby gods have smiled down on me’ and I wanted to know where you got that bag so I could get one of my own -“

“Oh, I didn’t buy it, bab, I crocheted it! I couldn’t find one that I liked so I had to make one, and it’s so good for finding other enbies out in the wild, it’s like a code, isn’t it!”

“Yeah definitely - look, if you crochet a lot, would you fancy making me a scarf with enby flag colours? I can pay you or give you bakes or something -“

“Oh Bimini Bab, don’t worry about that - I can do you one for next weekend if you want -“

Aurora decided to leave them to it, looking around the room for someone to talk to. Tayce was with Cherry and Joe again, and Tia and Veronica had been joined by Asttina, the three of them comparing something on their phones. Ellie was nowhere to be seen, which was a shame as Aurora was starting to feel a bond with her more than anyone else in the room.

But is that even real in itself?

That thought persisted, no matter how hard Aurora tried to quash it.

Everything’s just really distorted right now.

The actual filming of the episodes was being done on Saturdays and Sundays, and would be every weekend from now until the end of June, so it meant that they would all go back to their normal daily lives while the weeks were going on; back to work, back to friends and family, back to their routine.

It was as if they left the real world into a fantasy land for two days a week, a frenetic rollercoaster of baking and emotions, pressure and strangers, before being dropped back into the mundane weekday world, a reality where they were forbidden to disclose how they were all doing, or what they were all doing, every weekend.

There were eleven of them left on the competition, and it was only the second weekend of them filming so far. They’d known each other for just over a week, and spent almost three total days in each others’ pockets, surrounded by cameras and production crew and editors. But it was virtually impossible to get to know everyone here, to really know them, hard to read their intentions while filming was happening, because it was such a short but busy time they all had together. Because no matter how much they all smiled, how much they all laughed together - they were all here for one reason, and that was for themselves, to win.

That made the room feel still lonelier to Aurora, even filled with eleven people.

Take Ellie for instance. Ellie was always making conversation, and Aurora hoped they’d bonded; but then again Ellie was a trainee hairdresser, and it was probably part of her job to be able to chat. Tayce, her charming accent and witty smile aside, gave nothing away, and as much as Aurora’s stomach leapt somersaults when she was around her, Tayce was a complete mystery.

Looking around the room at everyone pairing off, the community here was more important than ever. It was a long filming schedule for just ten episodes, and the NDAs they’d all had to sign bound them together, keeping a juicy secret from the outside world.

At the same time, it was surreal.

Every word was emotive. Every sensation was deeper than normal. Every movement was significant …

But until the series aired on Channel 4, everything here was only as tangible as a dream.

——

Technical: 12 Jaffa Cakes

Jaffa Cakes? Fucking Jaffa Cakes?

Sure, Aurora had eaten them for years, but baking them? As far as Aurora was concerned, Jaffa Cakes were just a thing that came in a box, that probably grew on trees. The concept of baking them felt alien.

Focus. Calm.

But the basic instructions from Prue’s recipe might have been in Latin for all Aurora knew. And Aurora sure as hell didn’t know Latin.

She took less time than last week annotating, instead getting to work setting up the bain marie in a saucepan to melt the chocolate, tossing cake ingredients into the KitchenAid as she went, ignoring the crash as Joe’s baking tray went flying onto the next bench, where Ginny was glaring at her as she dramatically rolled her eyes and went to pick it back up.

She looked at the main timer she used. Twenty minutes had gone, which meant she was slightly ahead of her annotated schedule.

So far, so good.

But the issue came when the cake sponges were cooling.

“Aurora!” Ellie’s whisper was frantic as she turned to her bench, the panic in her voice making it impossible to ignore. “I’ll give you a can of my Monster if you tell me which way up these sponges are meant to be!”

As Aurora met her eyes, all memory of what a Jaffa Cake looked like evaporated, fizzing and floating away like steam.

Shit. She’s got a point. Which way up do they go?

She knew that one side was covered in chocolate and the marmalade jelly circles they’d all made, but which side?

“I don’t know, do I!” Aurora sighed, clutching her hair. “God, you just said that and now I can’t remember what a Jaffa Cake looks like and I’ve been eating them from the packets for years!”

“Same here!” Ellie muttered.

Aurora caught sight of Tayce’s head jerking up out of the corner of her eye, curiously watching them both, but she forced herself to concentrate on the matter at hand.

“If we do it this way,” Ellie turned one of the sponges she’d made upside down, “there’s less room for the jelly, but the discs fit perfectly, and there’s more room for the chocolate, is that right?”

“Uhm,” Aurora murmured, wracking her brains. “I think - maybe, yeah - you’re right I think …”

Across the room, she saw Cherry, who had already turned hers upside down and was already halfway through putting the chocolate and marmalade jelly on them. Joe, a few rows in front of her, was also turning hers over and over, frowning.

But as Ellie turned her cake again, the right way up, Aurora could practically see a lightbulb light in her head; her eyes widening and her mouth dropping in realisation.

“No! It’s the right way up! Because it’s a flat tray! For the jelly! And the chocolate kind of spreads to the edges, doesn’t it? Like, over the sponge too. Right? Please tell me I’m right, Rory,” Ellie pleaded.

Aurora wasn’t sure what to think. “I’m not sure now. Some people are doing them upside down, and they look …”

“No, I’m sure I’m right,” Ellie nodded, grimly determined suddenly. “Trust me on this. They’re meant to be the right way up.” She nodded again, putting the baking tray and the sponge down again. “Here, have a Monster.”

Aurora frowned as she took it. “Mango Loco?”

“Of course! What else?”

The way Ellie was looking at her, she might have sprouted another head. Aurora opened the can and took a swig, praying to the Monster gods that Ellie wasn’t trying to trick her and that the energy drink would give her the final push.

——

“Thank you!”

Aurora had taken half a step into Carr Hall after the Technical challenge winner’s interview was over, only to be engulfed by Hurricane Ellie, all six feet of her, dragged into a very fluffy pink hug against the fake fur of the jacket she wore.

She shook Ellie off, laughing. “Oh, it’s alright love, you’re the one who figured it out without me, don’t worry - “

“I was so nervous for Technical!” Ellie’s voice was so loud that Aurora winced in discomfort. “I came eleventh last week! And now I’m third! I could cry! But you - God, you came top! Oh god I’m sorry! Congratulations on coming top!”

Aurora couldn’t hold back the grin. She had to admit, she felt pretty smug about coming top in the second Technical challenge, especially having been seventh the previous week. It just showed that she had lots to offer to the show and the judges. Her heart was hammering, although whether that was with elation or electrolytes, she was uncertain.

“Well done, Aurora.” She turned to face Asttina’s cool smile and steady gaze, accepting the handshake she offered. “Your Jaffa Cakes looked amazing. Really nice one. I can’t wait to try one.”

Aurora just returned her smile. Something about Asttina made her lose her tongue, maybe the formal, business-like way she went about her bakes, or her polite, reserved manner of speech. Aurora didn’t feel that she knew much about her yet - not enough to fill in the gaps in her head about Asttina.

“Congratulations, bab,” Ginny sidled up to her next, giving her a grin. Bimini followed them, holding the narrow bottle of limoncello that Ginny had been liberally adding to their lemon drizzle cake earlier, both of them swigging from it.

“Thanks Gin!”

“Nice one, Aurora,” Tia was next, her easy smile matching her eyes as she rubbed Aurora’s shoulder. “Your Signature was so good too, you deserved to get top in Technical this week!”

And Aurora immediately felt another twinge of guilt for her words earlier. Tia radiated sincerity, probably the only person in the room whose whole demeanour was relaxed and genuine. A lump rose in her throat and Aurora found her words stuck at it.

She just nodded, smiling, before she took the opportunity to move out the way to the cake table, wondering if she fancied another slooice of Ginny’s handshake-winning lemon drizzle cake before it was all gone, when she felt long cool fingers at her shoulder and turned to meet Tayce’s brown eyes.

“Good job in Technical today,” she murmured, a smile tugging at her lips.

Tayce’s low voice, and that accent, started off the butterflies in Aurora’s stomach once more, along with a tingling dancing up her spine. Last week it had been a pleasant addition to being here, having such a stunning contestant opposite her, but this week, Aurora found that the nearer Tayce was to her, the less Aurora was able to form coherent words.

“Thanks,” she heard herself say after what seemed like an eternity of a pause.

“Did much better than me. Seventh! Like we switched positions, eh?”

“Seems like it!” Aurora’s face was getting warmer and warmer, and she resumed prayer to the Monster gods that she wasn’t blushing -

“Anyway. Congratulations, A’Whora.”

“A’Whora! Bloody cheek!” Aurora slapped her playfully on the arm, and Tayce smiled as she wandered away, leaving Aurora to join Bimini and Ginny, as they curled up on the sofa together.

“You know who I’m enjoying seeing here every week?” Ginny muttered, dropping their voice to ensure no one else overheard.

“Who?”

“Asttina.” Ginny rested their chin in their hands, elbows on their knees as they gazed wistfully around the room.

Aurora followed their gaze to Asttina, who was chatting to Ellie, a hand on her forearm.

“I don’t really know much about Asttina,” Aurora admitted in a soft voice. “She hasn’t really spoken to me much yet, and she just seems kind of … aloof.”

But Ginny shook their head. “I’ve met her before at charity bakes in Birmingham. She does a lot of these kinds of charity bake offs, you have to put on a certain persona for that - and yeah, maybe she’d brought it to the contest here a bit - but honestly, once you get past that, she’s lovely.”

Asttina was pulling Ellie over to Tia and Veronica on the other side of the room, her smile genuine and her eyes crinkling at the corners, as happy as Aurora had seen her yet.

“Charity bakes? For contests and stuff?” Aurora asked.

“Sometimes. Have you seen her Instagram? I was looking at her page before we even all came to the show, for inspiration for something for my birthday - not that I enjoy getting older but we all enjoy cake! And she made one with some weird flavour combo - can’t remember - and I messaged her about it, and she just came back with it fell to bits after this photo, give it a miss - and I couldn’t stop laughing!”

“What kinds of things does she bake?” Bimini asked.

“All sorts, bab - anything you could ask for and more. But the flavours she was using! Oh my days - the things she’s tried and made work - she’s a genius, I’ll tell you that. She’s gonna go to the end.”

“Yeah,” Bimini murmured, their eyes hooked on Asttina as she crossed the room to the table, looking over the Jaffa Cakes for one to try. “Yeah, hopefully.”

Aurora looked from Asttina to Bimini, their chin cupped in their hand, not tearing their eyes away from Asttina, smiling a soft smile.

“Bimini,” Aurora said, but Bimini didn’t look away.

“Bim!” She nudged them, and Bimini blinked, evidently coming back into the room from cloud nine.

“Yeah - yeah, I know.”

Ginny raised their eyebrows, letting out a low whistle. “Are we gonna have our first Bake Off romance on the cards? Sorry, second? Can’t forget Blu and Cheryl last year.”

“Nah, not likely.” Bimini shook their head. “Not on the show anyway. Too much like hard work, innit, trying to balance getting to ask someone out with baking.”

“So, like, how many of us here are queer?” Aurora asked. “Do you know?”

“No,” Ginny shook their head, “but from what I’ve heard so far, a fair few - I’m pan, you’re a lesbian aren’t you Aurora? I’ve seen your pin - and I know Asttina has the bi flag on her instagram page, Tia and Veronica obviously like women as well -“

“What about Tayce, Gin?” Bimini asked slyly. “I think that’s what Aurora wanted to know.”

“Wait, wait, hold on,” Aurora held her hand up, trying to get them off Tayce. “What do you mean, Tia and Veronica obviously like women as well … what have I missed?”

Ginny pursed their lips, and Bimini chuckled.

“Let’s just say they’re getting pretty close.”

——

Showstopper: A children’s dream birthday cake with at least two different sponge flavours and three layers.

Aurora wasn’t going to let anyone stop her today. The Star Baker title and the cake-shaped badge was hers for the winning. Top in Technical, good critiques in Signature - she knew the judges would be talking about her as one of the top bakers in line for Star Baker this week.

She cast her gaze round the room, wondering who else was in line.

Veronica, for sure. She’d come second in Technical for the second week in a row, and her Signature pineapple and coconut cake had been praised. Much as Aurora hated to admit, Veronica was a great baker.

Ginny too, was probably in line for Star Baker, with their Hollywood Handshake from yesterday. They still looked smug, running a hand through their yellow hair and giggling to themselves.

It was probably between the three of them to win.

But as she carried on around the room Aurora’s eyes narrowed pensively as they fell on Ellie, right in front of her. She’d come third in Technical, and the rhubarb and custard cake had … actually had pretty good feedback as well.

Maybe it’s a four-horse race. Ellie’s a bit of a dark horse though.

“Have fun with the bake today,” Prue told them all, the familiar twinkle in her eye as she spoke. “Give us plenty of flavours and let your imaginations run wild. Remember, the bake has to be worth the calories.”

Veronica’s mouth was set in a thin line as she placed all her cake tins and containers in a line, licking her lips as she concentrated on setting all five stopwatches on her bench. Tia, by contrast in front of her, was piling her ingredients onto the workbench, muttering loudly to herself and causing the cameramen to run to her side and film her as she talked nonsense as usual.

It was an uneventful start. But something was bound to happen, and when Cherry passed Aurora’s workbench, she hovered, motioning pointedly with her gaze outside towards the tea tent outside; and Aurora turned off her KitchenAid for a second to follow Cherry over there and grab a mug as if to make tea.

“Joe’s pre-bought her fondant.”

“What?” Aurora put a hand to her mouth.

“I said to her - I was walking past her to get to Bimini’s workbench - and I saw her unrolling it. And I said, just jokingly, did you get that from Tesco’s, and get this - she leaned towards me,” Cherry mimicked Joe’s lean, putting a hand to the side of her mouth, “and she just whispered, ‘M&S’!”

“No!” Aurora’s eyes widened, her head shaking, but Cherry was nodding, licking her lips.

“I - well, I still am speechless!” Cherry’s eyes were alight, her glee as always seemingly awakened by gossip, but Aurora wasn’t sure what she’d do with this information. Was Cherry about to tell the judges? Should she do it instead? Was it any of their business at all?

Cherry didn’t give any clues away when they went back to the tent either, sipping her tea, greeted by the sound of Tia announcing she had to start again. Veronica was running over to see what she’d done now, probably to try to fix it again.

But Aurora had her own issues. The cake mix, still in the KitchenAid, had flattened decidedly while she had been away.

She turned the whisk on, but she could not persuade the mixture to aerate, no matter how hard she whisked.

“Fuck,” she muttered, angry tears stinging the backs of her eyes. “Am I gonna have to do a Tia?”

One more minute. It may still be salvageable, come on cake, come on -

After three more minutes of whisking, Aurora rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and took the bowl off the stand, emptying the mixture into the bin.

“You starting again?” That was Noel’s voice, and a cameraman beside her, and Aurora was temporarily blinded by Noel’s brightly-painted outfit, obviously his own design, bold patterns and neon colours.

“Yeah, gonna have to aren’t I? It went flat.”

“You’ve got this, alright?”

Noel’s smile and tone were light and airy, not really with any substance.

That was how Aurora wanted her cake, not her support.

She closed her eyes, allowed her breathing to settle, then leaned forwards, a lump forming in her throat as she gathered fresh ingredients and set back to work all over again on the cake mixture.

As the whisk was whirring for her second time, she glanced up in awe at Ellie’s which was just coming out of the oven, smelling divine; and over at Veronica’s, already partly formed out of a green grass stand. Aurora blinked back the tears, seeing her chances of becoming Star Baker this week starting to fade away.

She glanced at Tayce.

And although part of Aurora wanted nothing more than to look at Tayce, watch Tayce bake all day, listen to her speak all day, as the tingling feeling ran down her spine … another part of her was infuriated by how relaxed Tayce was, nonplussed by everything around her.

It was difficult to make head or tail of what Tayce was thinking. Right now, she was holding up a layer of cake, and slicing into it with a palette knife, trying to carve a shape; looking up only to grin at Noel as he approached her for some banter for the television.

Aurora wanted to go over and see what she was making, but she didn’t want to have to restart again, so she turned her eyes to the KitchenAid and tried to tune out everyone else in the room.

——

One thing no one had prepared any of the bakers for was that judging for the Showstoppers was terrifying.

Watching it on the telly made it look like everyone was judged in a single minute, and everything was smooth and light and relaxed. In reality, everyone stood there for a good five minutes each at least, feeling all eyes in the room on them from their fellow contestants as well as the judges, and with lifting and carrying times it meant they were all dead on their feet by the end.

Aurora was right at the end of the pack, being in the position she was in - on the right, at the back.

So she had to wait past everyone getting pulled up in order.

Bimini and Asttina, both on the front two rows, both getting good feedback on flavours but mediocre feedback on the aesthetic of their respective cakes. Joe was next, and Cherry’s news turned out to be true, with Joe openly admitting to the judges that her fondant was pre-bought from M&S.

Ellie gave an audible inhale.

“What’s up?” Aurora whispered as loudly as she could.

“You’re not meant to do that!” Ellie whispered back.

Ginny was told that while their lemon cake was delicious, doing a lime-flavoured layer was probably not a wise choice, and she needed to not do lemon every single time. Veronica and Lawrence were both praised, even though they’d made similar cakes in the shape of train sets, the second time they’d done a similar design to each other.

Ellie’s hand shook where it rested on Aurora’s workbench, as she stared glassy-eyed outside the clear panel of the tent. And even though Aurora tried to remind herself that this show was full of people who just wanted to win a competition, seeing Ellie’s fear made her chest ache. Aurora reached forward to rest a hand atop hers, and Ellie blinked, swallowing, still staring straight ahead.

“You’ll do great,” she whispered, and Ellie nodded stiffly, her hand quivering in Aurora’s.

Tia’s cake was next. The game of Operation which was starting to crumble and fall apart as Matt Lucas helped her to carry it to the table, was called the best lemon and poppy seed cake Prue had ever had.

When Ellie was called after that, and Aurora got a better look at her cake, she didn’t know why Ellie was worrying; she’d made a beautiful and intricate pink castle, complete with towers, detailed brick patterns, and a little portcullis; but when she got it to the judges table, the judges were sniggering quietly behind her.

“Me and my brother, we always had just one plain cake between us on our birthday, nothing to make it that personal for either of us, that way it was fair,” Ellie explained, cupping her elbows in her hands. “But if I’d not been a twin, this would have been my dream cake. A huge pink castle.”

Cherry’s eyes widened from the other side of the room, clapping a hand to her mouth; and Aurora finally spotted it. The pink towers with the purple rooftops, standing out from the rest of the cake …

They look a bit … questionable, Aurora thought.

By now everyone was sniggering to themselves, apart from Lawrence, whose face was in her hands; when she raised her head, Aurora could see she was trying not to laugh too.

Aurora chanced a glance at Tayce, finding that she wasn’t laughing much either, a cool indifference behind her eyes. But she wasn’t looking at Ellie. She was looking straight at Aurora herself, before turning her eyes away back to the front.

Tayce’s turn had come, and Tayce had presented the owl she’d made to be told that her bake was good, but her design wasn’t up to parr. And Aurora’s judging was as expected - she was praised on her buttercream, but she hadn’t left the sponges in long enough, worrying she was running short on time; so she’d removed them early to cool; and they’d come out a bit dense as a result.

That’s probably cost me the Star Baker badge. But I probably won’t be going home at least.

It was disappointing. Cakes were her forte, cakes were what she knew best.

But it doesn’t mean I’m a bad baker, she said firmly to herself. I just had a less-than-perfect bake. I am not my art.

She breathed out her worries, knowing there was nothing more she could do now that judging was over, and left the tent with the others to the outside area, where the chairs had been set up. It was still sunny, although clouds were drifting over and the early evening chill was starting to pinch in the air.

Aurora flopped down on the seat next to Tayce, sighing heavily.

“Mine was alright, I think,” she said, “and Paul loved my Italian meringue buttercream.”

Tayce nodded, but her expression remained the same; staring towards the tent, her eyes distant and pensive.

“I can’t believe that Joe actually told the judges that she’d bought the fondant from M&S! Do you think that’s true? If so - I mean, she won’t be staying until next week if she’s done that, will she?”

Tayce carried on nodding, her face flat, the distance between them growing with every second that passed.

Aurora sighed. “I don’t think I’ll get Star Baker this week though, even though I came top in Technical. They all loved Ellie’s cake, didn’t they?”

That was the first motion Aurora saw; Tayce’s jaw tensed for a split second, her eyes narrowing just a fraction as she continued her slow, rhythmic nodding.

“That cake was something else,” Aurora said dreamily, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

“Maybe you should talk to her about it, then.”

With that low, cool sentence, Tayce stood up and made her way towards Carr Hall, not even turning around to see Aurora’s confused expression growing more so with every step she took.

—-

Inside, the tent was still stiflingly hot as Noel announced Ellie as the shock winner. Ellie put her hands to her face, while Asttina, sitting on her right, wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her towards her for a gracious cuddle.

Matt had to announce the person leaving, but no one was surprised that Joe’s name was called, not even Joe herself. She stood from her position between Ginny and Bimini, both of them clutching one of her hands each, and gave her infamous cackle, blowing them all a kiss and leaving the tent behind to go to her exit interview.

“Well done, Els,” Aurora murmured, as Ellie bent down to hug her, wiping tears away from the corners of her eyes with her thumbs.

Over her shoulder, Aurora caught Tayce staring at her for a split second before she turned away, following Joe out of the tent, presumably back to Carr Hall to collect her things for the week ahead.

Those same thoughts from the previous day were running circles in her mind. She only saw Tayce at weekends, in a very enclosed environment, and although last week they’d exchanged some kind words, and Tayce had held her hand, did it mean they were bonding?

Ellie let Aurora go, moving to hug someone else, but Aurora carried on looking at the exit, trying to decipher what had made Tayce turn cool this week.

Her hand in Aurora’s had been more welcome than Aurora had expected last week, a faint thrill up her spine as she remembered it. But this week they’d barely spoken, and Aurora struggled to figure out why; until she heard Ellie’s laughter as she hugged Lawrence, who tilted her chin up to rest on her shoulder, pouring words of affirmation into Ellie’s ear.

Is - is Tayce really that annoyed? Because she didn’t win?

——

TEN BAKERS REMAIN

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the-odd-job · 3 years

Text

Ashes of Icarus chapter 19 - All the Things He Said

Warnings: Chose Not to Use Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Characters: Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Optimus, Cliffjumper Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Additional Tags: Dubcon, Unplanned Pregnancy, Mechpreg, Sticky Words: 1937

( Previous )

Every day grew more tense as the sand in the hourglass slipped away. His time was running out. Sooner and sooner Ratchet would access the spec ops records, and then it would be all over him, wouldn’t it? Jazz, Optimus, Prowl, Ironhide, Red Alert would have questions that Ratchet would have to answer.

They would all find out, and then what?

Then what?

No doubt Red Alert would demand the greatest punishment, although Sunstreaker wasn’t at all sure what that might be. Was it possible they’d straight up execute him? He wouldn’t have put that past them.

Exiling him would’ve been well preferable to that. Incarcerate him?

What would they do to the sparkling? While it was still in his frame, and after it had separated?

Did he want to stay to find answers to those questions, or should he leave before they could make him face the consequences of his actions?

Where would he go? To Megatron? Or somewhere else?

Where else?

Where could he go? And would Megatron even let him go, after he had made it clear he wanted his hands on the sparkling?

Or would he simply be hunted down and dragged to the Decepticons?

He was likely safe from that fate if he stayed with the Autobots, but was what the Autobots would do to him any better?

Megatron, at least, had stopped harassing him after their one mid-battle conversation. Apparently he’d gotten to discuss what he had wanted to discuss—probably mainly the reminder of what he had promised to do if Sunstreaker didn’t.

Tell the Autobots.

But so far, there had been no word from the tyrant.

It was quiet on all fronts, for now, but he could sense Ratchet’s mounting concern. Sunstreaker, personally, thought that Ratchet didn’t want to find out answers in a way that would break his precious medical confidentiality, but what was he doing except forcing the medic’s hand with his refusal to tell who the sire was?

With his refusal to admit it was Megatron?

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

“Sunstreaker, Sideswipe,” Optimus greeted them in the rec room. They were sitting in their corner table as usual, and if Sunstreaker’s presence didn’t just create a lovely bubble around them that no one dared to cross the threshold of.

No one except the Prime.

Optimus spoke quietly enough that snooping ears couldn’t hear him, which was enough to make Sunstreaker tense from helm to pede. Now what?

He glared.

“Wazzup?” Sideswipe asked with an easy smile, leaning back in his seat.

“Could I speak with you two in private?” the Prime asked. Sideswipe cocked an optical ridge at him.

Sunstreaker growled. “If it’s not something we can talk about in public, then we’re not talking about it.”

Optimus gave him a look, but that was nothing new. Happened practically every time they talked, really. Sunstreaker didn’t lose his glare any more than Sideswipe lost his smile even as he sipped from his cube.

If Optimus wasn’t as kind and forgiving as he was… Well, Sunstreaker wasn’t sure he’d even be an Autobot at this point, after everything he’d done and all the disrespect he’d shown.

And soon enough he might just use up all of Optimus’ goodwill, and then what? The million dollar question. He highly doubted even the Prime could forgive relations with Megatron.

“Very well,” Optimus said, surprisingly, and took a seat opposite from them. Even Sideswipe frowned at this point, setting his cube down.

“Seriously, Prime, what’s this about?” his brother asked, and wasn’t that what they were both curious over.

“Ratchet has been very concerned over you,” Optimus rumbled, glancing between them. His voice was low and quiet, just enough to travel across the table to them, and no further.

Sunstreaker’s optics narrowed. “What’s he said?”

“Just that he’s worried. You know Ratchet would never speak of anything confidential.” Everyone knew that. As bad as Ratchet’s bedside manner was, as grouchy as he could be, one thing he was, was reliable. Optimus may have been his leader, and if Sunstreaker hazarded, his friend too, but that wouldn’t be enough for Ratchet to speak of things that were between him and his patients.

Beyond saying he was worried about them it looked like, anyway.

“Did he ask you to talk with us?” Sideswipe asked, a little disbelieving. Optimus for sure tried to be everyone’s buddy despite being the leader of the whole damn faction, but it couldn’t exactly be said he and the brothers had ever been too close. They had too many issues with authority figures, especially as maddeningly soft ones like Optimus, to really appreciate the Prime to any measure.

Not a great foundation for anything more than barely passable relations, as much as Optimus never held it against them. He still tried.

As he tried now too. “No, he didn’t ask me to. I wanted to ask you myself. Is everything alright?”

What the frag made him think they’d tell him even if something wasn’t? Sunstreaker frowned harder, and next to him, Sideswipe mirrored the expression.

“Yeeeaaahhh?” his brother almost asked, because you know, why wouldn’t everything be just dandy? “Everything’s fine? I’m not sure what Ratchet’s worried over.”

Sideswipe paused for a thoughtful effect before he continued. “Well, unless it’s about Sunny’s glitch. That’s been acting up.”

“I remember,” Optimus sighed, his optics resting on Sunstreaker. “But you have had quite a bit of luck keeping it under control since, have you not?”

“Thanks to Sides,” Sunstreaker grunted.

The Prime frowned at the suggestion behind those words. “What has caused it to act up like this?” Damn, wasn’t he just so concerned. For who, though? For Sunstreaker and his mental health on a downward spiral, or for the rest of the Autobots he’d become an instant threat to if he lost control of himself?

Probably a bit of both. Optimus was just so… Altruistic.

“Haven’t you noticed Megatron’s given me an uncomfortable amount of attention lately?” Sunstreaker asked, raising one of his optical ridges for good measure. “If that’s not stressful, I don’t know what is.”

Look, he wasn’t even lying.

“I have noticed,” Optimus said carefully, like the whole situation was a powder keg ready to explode.

With Sunstreaker on the scene, that may as well be true. “Do you know why he’s given you that amount of attention?” Optimus continued, looking at him with concern.

But that was probably fair enough when your worst enemy was gunning for one of your soldiers.

Sideswipe cracked his knuckles mentally. Time to fabricate some falsehoods.

“You remember that one time Megatron and Soundwave ran into me and Sides?” Sunstreaker asked, and continued after Optimus had nodded at him. “He said something about remembering me, that time. We have some… Unfinished business, that he didn’t manage to finish that time either.

“I think he’s trying to finish it now.”

Optimus frowned and considered his words for a moment—and the implications behind them. “What kind of ‘unfinished business’, if that isn’t too much prying?”

Aw, wasn’t he just so polite.

Sunstreaker stayed quiet just long enough to make it look like he was considering how much and how he would tell about this—for reasons that should become obvious when he finally spoke up. “There was a deathmatch,” he said, a bit cautiously. See, their past was a bit of a sore topic, wasn’t it? So violent and filled with death even before the war that most Autobots were just uncomfortable when it came up.

They didn’t want to hear about everything they had been through. It was just too disturbing for their fragile little sensibilities. “It ended before either of us died, which is… Not supposed to happen. Ever.” He gave Optimus a meaningful look, the kind that said ‘you wouldn’t understand, but just take my word for it’.

Optimus nodded again, more slowly this time as he started to catch onto what Sunstreaker was getting to.

Sunstreaker said it out loud anyway, just so there was no confusion. “I think he’s trying to grudge kill me now, now that he remembers me.”

“Don’t worry, we’re not about to let that happen,” Sideswipe piped in with a fierce grin. The Prime frowned at him in disapproval, to which Sideswipe merely shrugged. So they were a little bloodthirsty, and too fearless for their own good. Sue them.

“Is there anything you would like me to do about that?” Optimus asked kindly.

Sunstreaker snorted. “Kill him, maybe? Would solve a lot of problems.”

The Prime had a pause before he sighed. “Yes, that is the goal, isn’t it?” he said quietly enough that Sunstreaker wasn’t sure if it was even aimed at them at all.

They said nothing. Optimus eventually cycled another ventilation, and nodded at them. “Thank you for your candor, twins.”

Candor. Right.

Sunstreaker nodded back, as did Sideswipe.

Optimus took his leave, and alone they were again—but not for long, because someone whose intelligence was as lacking as their height decided to come their way after the Prime had left the room.

‘Cause you know, Optimus wouldn’t have particularly approved of Cliffjumper antagonizing them, but that was all Cliffjumper knew how to do.

What did they ever do to him? Were activated in the wrong city? Had the wrong frame type? A past he didn’t approve of? A little too shaky loyalties?

“Everyone’s starting to notice something’s up,” Cliffjumper said as he came closer, stopping outside of grabbing distance and placing his hands on his hips.

“And what is up, exactly?” Sunstreaker asked, narrowing his optics at the minibot.

Cliffjumper leaned towards them. “You and Megatron are what’s up. You’ve been eyeing each other for months. So what’s going on there, huh?“

Was it just Cliffjumper looking for any excuses to blame them for unbecoming behavior?

Or had their comrades actually noticed the change?

Sunstreaker snorted. “He wants to kill me is what’s going on there?”

Sideswipe laughed. “You’re reaching even harder than usual, CJ!”

The minibot wasn’t discouraged. “Am I really? What’s with him not trying to fragging ‘kill you’ this hard before, tell me that.”

Easy. “Because he didn’t remember me before,” Sunstreaker said with a good, big roll of his optics. “Now he does and wants to finish what he started way back when.”

“That’s what we figure, anyway,” Sideswipe shrugged, “Not a hell of a lot of other potential explanations.”

Cliffjumper growled at them, but he had no solid proof, did he? So he’d noticed their looks, the lowkey drama between them—noticed something was going on.

But he had no way to prove it was anything more than what the twins suggested it was. He didn’t know about the sparklet steadily growing next to his spark.

But he would soon. Everyone would know soon, once its signature strengthened enough to become noticeable on top of that of its carrier.

And then… He could only imagine what Cliffjumper would accuse him of then.

He might even hit home.

“Say what you say,” Cliffjumper huffed at them, his arms coming up to cross across his slagging mini chassis. “You won’t be able to hide the fragging truth forever. Did you jump on that spike already? ‘Cause I think you did.”

This time Sunstreaker laughed and Sideswipe snorted. “Riiiight, he fragged Megatron,” Sideswipe said in full mockery. “And lived to tell the tale?

“Frag off, Cliff, seriously.”

“Why don’t you do what your name suggests and go jump off a real high cliff?” Sunstreaker smirked, hiding his expression behind his cube.

Cliffjumper growled at them again, but turned to leave. “We’ll see who laughs last, fraggers.”

Yeah—and it probably wouldn’t be him and his brother.

( Next )

#transformers #maccadams #optimus prime #sunstreaker #sideswipe #cliffjumper #fic #2020 #ashes of icarus #ashes

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publiusvirgilius · 4 years

Text

Guilt by association - Chapter 3: Chilling Developments

Aaron Hotchner x OC

warnings: stressed-out oc

word count: 2.5K

summary: the end of term is near, but it seems Ida will have more to worry about than just turning in papers.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

December arrived without fanfare, bringing chilly gusts and freezing rain that slowly overwhelmed the once sunny days.

I had gotten through most of the parent conferences, fully accepting the chaotic schedule that now ruled my life. I only had a couple of conferences left, and with winter break just a little over a week away, I was more than ready to step away from my kindergarteners for a while and focus on my own classes.

As I sat in the classroom at the end of the school day—Brad left before me these days since the study was coming to a close—I opened my overfilled online planner again. I checked it and updated it obsessively. I knew myself too well to allow myself to lose track of appointments, and I couldn't afford to miss any advisor meetings or grant proposal hearings, much less be late to them.

I had my second-to-last parent conference in half an hour:

Wednesday, 12/8 3:30 p.m. Meeting with Anna's parents — Marc Orly and Fiona Orly

And then the next day:

Thursday, 12/9 7:00 p.m. Meeting with Jack's parent — Aaron Hotchner

We were supposed to have met a week ago, but unsurprisingly, Hotchner had rescheduled.

I decided to call him to make sure that he still knew about the conference. Not because I hadn't seen him in three weeks and wanted hear his voice.

"Hello?" His tone was impatient, as if I had just interrupted something.

"Hi, Mr. Hotchner," I spoke in what I hoped was a friendly but efficient tone. "I wanted to call to confirm our conference for tomorrow at seven p.m."

"I'm going to have to reschedule, Ms. Nott," he said without missing a beat.

Again? Should've figured.

"Mr. Hotchner, the end of the term is next week, and we really would like to—"

"I will contact you tomorrow to confirm when I will be available, but right now I have urgent matters to attend to." His voice sounded strained, as if he were under duress. Then he hung up, without even a good-bye.

Is he serious? In the three months I had known Jack's dad, I had never known him to be rude.

By eleven p.m. the next day, I still hadn't heard from Hotchner. Brad would be furious. Parent-teacher conferences were not just for updating the parents about their children's educational development, but they were an opportunity to gauge the relationship between the child and parent by evaluating how they responded to hearing about their children's progress.

On my way to school the next morning, I decided to call him myself. The first time, the line rang until I got to voicemail. The second time, however, he picked up after the first ring.

But no sound came out of the other end.

"Hello?" I spoke into the phone.

Still no answer.

"Hello? Mr. Hotchner?"

What game is he playing?

"Mr. Hotchner, are you there?"

Finally, someone spoke. However, it was not Hotchner's voice on the other line. It was the voice of a younger man, and his tone was cold, laced with a raspy edge that made me shiver.

"Agent Hotchner is unable to come to the phone. And you'll never talk to him again, unless you give me what I want," said the chilling voice.

I froze in the middle of the street. Who is this? Is Hotchner in trouble?

Before I could respond, the speaker hung up, and I remained glued to my spot, unable to move.

What is going on? Is this a joke?

The entire day, I was on edge. I couldn't get that cold voice out of my head.

During recess, I was on duty, and I took the time to gather my thoughts. Jack was at school today, so whatever had happened to Hotchner, his son was safe.

But who had gotten him ready for school? He had been on time today, like always, and nothing had seemed out of the ordinary about his behavior. If I hadn't called Hotchner that morning, I never would have known that anything was out of the ordinary.

The playground looked the same as always. The ground was slightly blanched and damp from the remnants of morning frost. The kids, their noses pink from the chilly air, ran and ducked under the slides and around the bare bushes. From my usual spot under the tree near the building I had a view of the whole playground and the parking lot beyond it, and my gaze fell into the familiar pattern of tracing the students' movements across the yard.

Then, something appeared in the corner of my vision. Something out of place. A large black SUV pulled into the parking lot and skidded to a jolting halt just behind the playground fence, and a large man exited the car as soon as he had parked haphazardly across the asphalt.

Parents generally signed in at the front office before visiting during the school day. This back parking lot was for buses and pick-up only. I called to the other teacher on recess duty to let her know I would go talk to the man.

Huh. I don't recognize him. He must be the parent of a student in another class.

At least, I hoped he was a parent. The man was intimidating to say the least. His biceps bulged out from under his dark gray shirt with the edge of a large tattoo peeking out from under his left sleeve, and his shaved head emphasized his dark, menacing brows.

"Hi, can I help you?"

The man flashed me a badge. "Ida Nott? I'm Derek Morgan with the FBI. I need you and Jack to come with me."

"What's going on? Is Mr. Hotchner okay?" My head started to spin. The handle of the man's gun glinted even in the scarce sunlight.

"We'll explain everything later. But right now, I need you and Jack to get in the car."

Still not quite processing, I handed over my shift to the other teacher and called Jack. He bounded over with his usual quiet cheerfulness.

"Hi Derek!" the boy said.

"Hey little man," Derek smiled. "We're gonna take you and Ms. Nott to your dad's office, alright?"

"Okay."

Jack was calm as ever during the ride to Quantico. He must be used to it.

About half an hour later, I found myself sitting in what felt like a conference room with a cup of coffee warming my hands. A few minutes later, a tall man in a sweater vest came in to lead Jack out of the room, giving me a tentative wave. Derek came in shortly after, seating himself directly across from me.

"Ida, we think you're the last person who spoke to our unit chief Aaron Hotchner."

The blood drained from my face. "What do you mean? What's happened to Jack's dad?"

"We traced his cell phone activity, and it looks like the last time his phone was active, he was on a call with you."

Oh no. I should have known something was wrong when he didn't pick up. My skin prickled, anxiety crawling up the back of my neck.

"What's wrong, Ida?"

"I—," I stammered, then gulped down a sip of coffee to ground myself. "When I called Mr. Hotchner this morning, he didn't pick up, which I thought was just him being rude, considering how he hung up on me last night—we've been trying to find a time for a parent conference before the end of the term. But when I tried him again right after, someone else picked up."

I shivered, remembering the strange man's voice. "It wasn't anyone I recognized. His voice was... cold," I said, for lack of a better adjective.

"You're sure it was a man?"

I nodded.

"Do you remember what he said?" he asked.

So it wasn't a joke. "Um," I started, my voice beginning to shake. "He said I'd never talk to Hotchner again unless he got what he wanted."

This was bad. I felt sick at the thought of Hotchner in danger. What would happen to Jack? Was he safe? Was I safe?

"Ida, I need you right here," Derek said firmly, gripping my arm to steady my nervousness. His hands were strong, and I caught a faint whiff of patchouli and orange spice, and suddenly I found myself longing for the more familiar scent of nutmeg and pine—Aaron Hotchner.

When I had imagined myself at the FBI headquarters—and I had imagined it, more times than I'd like to admit—it was always with Hotchner. But today, when I finally found myself at the Bureau, it was under hardly favorable circumstances. For all I knew, Hotchner was missing, or worse, dead, and the last thoughts I had associated with him were only negative ones.

Derek's grip on my arm tightened, bringing me back to the present.

"Think back to the call. Could you hear anything to identify where he might have been calling from?"

"I don't know," I said meekly.

The tall, weedy-looking boy peeked his head into the room again.

"We got the recording," he said. Then turning to me, he added, "You can come with us, if you'd like."

I was led down the hall and into an open work area filled with desks and monitors. where I saw several agents gathered around one monitor—seated in front of the computer was an oddly dressed blonde woman. She wore a brightly patterned dress with a matching pink satin headband, her hair teased out in an '80s style pouf, with sky-high pink stilettos with what I could only describe as furry pom-poms attached at the heel.

"Oh, hello! You look young for a teacher," she said in a bright, friendly voice.

Derek pointed out each of the agents who were now staring up at me with piercing eyes that looked as if they were taking apart each microexpression on my face.

"Ida, these are Agents Garcia, Prentiss, Jareau, and Dr. Reid, who I think you've already met," he said.

Garcia pressed play on the recording, and for some reason I hadn't expected to hear my own voice as well.

"Hello? Hello, Mr. Hotchner? Mr. Hotchner, are you there?

Agent Hotchner is unable to come to the phone. And you'll never talk to him again, unless you give me what I want."

I hadn't realized I sounded so... timid. Had I known something was wrong before even hearing the man on the other line? Or was I just that afraid of provoking Hotchner? Through the recording I was able to hear the sharp intake of my breath in response to the man's words, which I didn't even know I had made in that moment.

The agents began to discuss the implications of the man's message, taking apart the lexical nuances and unconscious stress syllables, but I hardly heard any of it. It was hard to think of Aaron Hotchner as missing. He was so solid, immutable, not just physically, but in all aspects. I suddenly remembered our conversation from two nights ago.

"I spoke to him two days ago," I spoke up. "I didn't notice it then, but he sounded sort of strange."

The agents thought this worth tracing as well, and soon they pulled up the recording of what was possibly the last conversation I had ever had with Hotchner.

Something about my face must have given away the fact that I was on the verge of hyperventilating, because one of the agents—Jareau? I think?—came to my side with a concerned expression.

"Ida? Would you like some more coffee?" she asked.

I nodded, grateful for the offer of escape. "That would be great, thank you."

Once she led me back to the conference room, I could somewhat relax. This agent seemed to be the only one who wasn't trying to peer into my mind each time I caught her gaze.

"Agent Jareau, was it?"

"You can call me JJ," she smiled.

"Can you tell me what's going on? What's happened to Hotchner?"

Her large blue eyes looked troubled. "We can't really say. Right now, we know just about as much as you do, which is why we were hoping to get your help. What I can tell you is, we're doing everything we can to bring him back."

"What about Jack? What are we supposed to tell him?" I asked.

"Jack's a tough kid. This isn't the first time his dad has been in danger. He'll be just fine."

Look at me, less emotionally stable than a five year old.

When JJ spoke again, there was that look of searching in her eyes that I had noticed in the other agents. "Ida, can you tell me the relationship between you and Aaron Hotchner?"

"We don't really have a— a relationship," I stammered. "I mean, he's visited my apartment but that's not what it sounds like... I might have had a crush on him at some point, but..."

The agent smiled, a charming, genuine smile. "I just meant professionally," she said. "If you could tell me more about your job and your role in Jack's life."

"Oh," I said, embarrassed, then began to explain quickly. "I'm a graduate student at the School of Education and Human Development at George Washington University. A part of my research is studying the behavioral development of children aged five to seven, so my advisor thought the best place for me to do that would be as an elementary school teacher."

"And what is your relationship with your students' parents like?"

"They know that they're a part of the study, and they also know that their kids' education will always come first, and that the study is secondary. We do keep files of all the parents in addition to the kids because we have to take all variables into account."

JJ seemed troubled by this, but quickly hid her frown. "You've already helped us a lot, Ida. Agent Prentiss and Agent Reid are going to head to your school to interview some of the other teachers, but we think it best that you stay here for now."

"Agent, it's still the middle of the school day. I need to get back." Brad was on my back as it was, and I couldn't afford to miss a day of school, especially with my research grant on the line.

"Seeing as you've had contact with a potential suspect, we believe it would be safest for you to stay away from your usually frequented locations, including your home."

"I can't even go home?"

JJ's tone was sympathetic but firm. "If we want to find out where Agent Hotchner is, we can't have you becoming the next victim."

So Hotchner really was missing. I couldn't help but feel that it was my fault. If I had just called him sooner, or if I had been mature enough to go talk to him after the apartment fiasco... It was hard to imagine Hotchner, the big, strong agent, Jack's superhero, losing control, or even, losing at all.

Does he know where he is? Is he in pain? Is he unconscious? Or awake, thinking of his son?

And even though I had no right to, my heart ached for Aaron Hotchner.

#aaron hotchner #hotchner #hotch #hotch x oc #hotchner x oc #aaron hotchner x oc #criminal minds #fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfic #f/m pairing #winter

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vanderlindeandco · 5 years

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Hey I was wondering if i could get a one shot of Marcus x reader, where the reader is super shy and really likes Marcus but is too scared too tell him and the guys (cole, Baird, and dom) end up telling Marcus how the reader feels and ends up getting mad at them but thanks them because magic feels the same.

HELL yeah brother

“All right, then you’re going to slide this piece right here.“ Marcus’s fingers, fast for their size, pressed the last piece of the transmitter into place. “Got it?”

You nodded, taking the device from his hands when he handed it to you. “Thank you.”

“Get to work, Private.” He walked away, and you felt the floor quake just a little under his steady steps.

You really liked your new squad. Dom was kind and welcoming and you already saw him as something of a big brother, even though it had only been a couple months since you’d been transferred to Delta. Cole was fearless and never failed to put a smile on your face, whether by words or conduct. Baird could be cantankerous, and it had taken you awhile to figure out his sense of humor, but once you had, you came to value his ingenuity and edginess, and even to tolerate his whining. Sam was brave and funny and snarky, and you admired her confidence and how she flourished and excelled even in such a testosterone-filled environment.

But Marcus, well… Marcus was distracting. And for being the least talkative of the lot, that made no sense, you knew. But it wasn’t intentional on his part. It was in the gravel of his voice, a sound that sent goosebumps down your spine when he whispered an order in your ear on a covert operation. It was in his confidence, how he took charge in whatever situation cropped up, and even in the way he barked orders. It was the way he looked out for his squad, protecting them and doing everything he could to ensure their well-being. It was his devotion to his cause, the idealism that you could see even through years of mistakes, loss, and wear and tear. His fierce blue eyes helped too, and you appreciated the way his armor hugged his tank-like body, and the strong arms that emerged from under the metal.

You had it bad, and you knew it would be best to forget it. Even if something were to come of it, it would essentially lock you in your current rank of private since any promotions you received would automatically be suspect - the gap between your ranks was just too big. And you hated the way you got awkward around him, how your fingers fumbled on simple tasks, and your words seemed to trip over themselves. You didn’t quite feel like yourself around him.

You were patrolling one night with Dom and Cole, making rounds of the borders of the remote base Delta had temporarily been stationed at, when Dom asked, “So. When are you going to tell him?”

“Tell who?” you said.

“You’re supposed to ask what too, if you really don’t know,” Cole said, tapping the side of his nose confidentially.

“It’s that obvious?” you said sheepishly.

“A little,” Dom said.

“Well, you go from a very competent soldier to a schoolgirl around him” Cole said.

“So this is where you tell me it’s not going to work and not to get my hopes up,” you said. “I know, believe me.”

“Actually,” Dom said, “I think we were going to tell you to go for it.” You looked at him incredulously. “Back me up, Cole.”

“Marcus knows what you’re all about,” Cole said. “You might not be the highest-ranking, but you got a rep. Trustworthy, adventurous, funny - and I know you’re a hell of a good shot.”

“So what are you saying?” you asked, not wanting to risk drawing conclusions they weren’t trying to make.

“You’re his type, genius,” Baird’s voice crackled through Cole’s radio.

“That’s on?!” you asked, your cheeks immediately growing hot.

“Oops,” Cole said.

“Hey, I’m good at girl talk too,” Baird said.

You shot a resentful glance at Cole, who shrugged apologetically. Baird was friend, but he would not have been your top pick of who to confide your feelings in. “What’s happening?” Baird asked. “Can you still hear me? Come in, Delta.” He began to sing, his voice painfully out of tune. “If you fell in love with Marcus, clap your hands,” clap clap, “If you-”

“Okay, I hear you!” you said. You had wanted to say something considerably different - something that involved quite a few more four-letter words, but you hadn’t known Baird long enough to justify cussing out someone who outranked you by that much.

“Look, I’m just saying, say he does feel the same way - that probably means it’ll be twice as hard for me to get a promotion because everyone will think it’s just because I’m involved with him,” you said.

“You think Marcus would let that stand?” Cole said. “Hell no. He’d bang heads together until it worked.”

“I guess.” His words raised your hopes, but you knew it was smartest not to get too optimistic.

“Just nut up and tell him!” Baird said. There came some muffled noise through the radio, and a faint but familiar voice, and then Baird saying “Oh, hey, Sarge. Been here long?”

“Shit,” you muttered, and the radio cut out.

“He’s, uh… not the best about keeping secrets,” Dom said.

“Yeah,” you said, a little bitterly.

“It’ll be fine,” Cole said.

“Yep.” You scanned the quiet desert.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dom said. “Baird puts his foot in his mouth all the time. He’ll take care of it.”

“Good,” you said.

It was nearly midnight, the end of the guard shift, and you took a last circuit with Dom and Cole around the base before entering again through the gates. The base was quiet at night, so you were surprised to see two soldiers crossing the open courtyard toward you, and your heart sunk when even in the dim moonlight you spotted the familiar bandana on the head of the taller of the two.

“Private,” he said, his voice resounding in the courtyard even though he wasn’t speaking loudly.

“Uh, yes sir?” your voice had come out weak. Fuck, why was it so hard to talk around him?

“Baird tells me you have something to say.”

There was no way he had told him… was there? Your tongue felt heavy and clumsy as you tried to shape words. “I, uh-” your panicked eyes darted to Baird, who had a confident smirk on his face. “I-I wanted to thank you for…” for what? You groped around your mind for something to say. “-for teaching me, uh, earlier.”

“No problem,” Marcus said. “That’s it?”

“Yes, sir.” You knew your cheeks were bright red and you were grateful for the cover of night.

Baird looked a little let down, and you scowled at him as soon as Marcus’s attention shifted to Dom. “Everything clear on the patrol?” Marcus asked.

“All good,” Dom said.

“Good,” Marcus said. “Get some rest, all of you. Good work.”

As soon as you were out of earshot of Marcus and Baird, the words you’d been holding back burst from your lips. “That son of a bitch! I sounded like a total idiot.” You mocked your own voice, “‘Thanks for teaching me.’ Fuck!”

“Yeah, he overstepped a little there,” Dom said. “But I think he just wanted to help you make a move.”

“Yeah well, that should be up to me,” you said.

“Do try and do it before you get old and die an old widow,” Cole teased.

You sighed. Maybe he had a point. “I’ll think about it.”

*****

The next morning when you came into the mess hall, you found the men of Delta huddled around the isolated end of one long table. Dom was saying something, an earnest expression on his face, but you couldn’t hear the words. You grabbed a tray, accepting the normal morning rations before approaching the squad. The conversation stopped as you neared, all four soldiers suddenly seeming a little too interested in the mostly flavorless powdered eggs that comprised the main part of the meal. “Morning,” you said as you sat down next to Dom.

“Morning!” Cole said with a sunny smile.

“Marcus?” Baird asked, but when Marcus didn’t speak, he shook his head, lamenting toward the ceiling, “Do I have to do every-fucking-thing for you two?” You didn’t have time to figure out the implication of his words before he turned to you, asking, “You got a dress or something here?”

“No, why?” you asked.

“Cause you got a date tonight.”

“A… date? What did you say?” This seemed like it was probably about to go terribly wrong. There was Baird, out of line, again, but it wasn’t just him this time. You’d give them all a talking-to later. Your eyes darted to Marcus, whose gaze was still trained on his breakfast. You couldn’t read his expression at first - it seemed closed, tense, before you realized with a shock of tenderness that he was in fact bashful.

“Damn, is it hard to breathe in here or is it just all the sexual tension?” Baird asked.

Marcus scowled at him but then he turned to you and his face softened.“You know there’s not much to do around here. I, uh, thought we could go for a drive and maybe eat off-base.”

“I don’t think the word ‘picnic’ is in his vocabulary, but that’s what he’s getting at,” Baird said. “My idea, of course. He thought you should go to the range together. Cause there’s nothing as romantic as shooting paper to shit on your first date.”

“I…” Marcus looked up at the start of your sentence, and the intensity of his gaze made you pause. “Yes.”

There was silence for a moment and then Cole cheered as Baird clapped Marcus on the back. “There we go,” Dom said.

“You can thank me later,” Baird said. “We’re out of here.” The other three members of the squad rose, leaving you alone sitting across from Marcus.

You cleared your throat. “I like your idea better.”

He chuckled, his weathered face relaxing. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He stuffed the last bite of toast in his mouth, chewing it thoroughly before rising, tray in hand. “I’ll meet you at the range at 1900 hours.”

You smiled, and for once that funny feeling you got in the pit of your stomach when you were around him wasn’t a bad one. “Yes, sir.”

***

You had martial arts training with Dom that afternoon, and when you walked into the training room with a smile on your face, he asked, “Still mad at us?”

“No,” you said, a little grudgingly.

“Anything else you want to say?” he asked, a playful smile in his eyes.

“Yeah... Thank you.”

He nodded. “He likes you. Have fun tonight. Use protection!”

You rolled your eyes, fastening the velcro on your gloves. “Get your guard up.”

#gears of war #marcus fenix #marcus fenix x reader #request #fluffy #matchmaker baird lol

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discordantplains · 5 years

Text

Dear Lord

Tucker was in hell. Not the nether--no that would be preferable over the itching sneezing congestion filled purgatory he’d landed himself in. He hadn’t even been blessed enough to find the meager amount of obsidian necessary to construct a portal there during their supervised mining sessions. There was no escape and he figured he must be really desperate if he was considering the stifling dimension of Dianite’s domain a reprieve.

He sniffled, wiping at his already tender nose, and pressed his face into his pillow. He was the only one currently in the bed and breakfast they were using as a base of operations. Sonja and Waglington had gone out to explore the town, Tom left to do who knows what--probably get in trouble with Captain Captain--and Jordan had already turned hermit and was down in the basement tinkering with a portal to get them home.

The hope Jordan’s portal was bringing happened to be the only thing keeping him from bashing his head open on the nearest hard surface. Though, to be fair, it already felt like his head was being bashed open.

He’d never had allergies this bad, not in the savanna in Mianite or the fields around his home in Ruxomar. Whatever grass grew in this gods-forsaken plane was seriously nasty stuff. Both inside and outside he was suffering, hell even underground was bad. His head pounded and felt full of cotton, his sinuses felt fit to burst, and his eyes were throbbing. He was constantly adjusting his jaw, hoping that his ears would pop and relieve some of the terrible pressure in his skull but he hadn’t been lucky thus far. His mouth didn’t feel much better--his tongue was slightly swollen and his throat felt like it was grating against sandpaper every time he swallowed.

He had already gotten medication from SkeleTom and it didn’t seem to be doing anything. The alternate swore up and down that it should have done something at least, but Tucker wasn’t seeing a difference. Sleeping didn’t help either. He woke up this morning feeling worse than the previous days and mining had been pretty miserable to begin with. The alternate alternates, who Sonja had dubbed the “Alts Squared”, followed every move they made. Even Tom, who had made threats of going off the grid, hadn’t managed to escape Honey’s watchful gaze. If he didn’t feel so sick Tucker would have been impressed. He’d never been able to control Tom like that.

Speaking of, the grating zombie champion had woken him about thirty minutes ago, jabbering on about spending time with Captain Captain. Not only did he not feel up to spending extended periods of time outside, but he didn’t exactly trust Jordan’s alternate not to go crazy and murder them all. Mianite knows he’d already tried. Or maybe that was his version of playfulness. Honestly, he was worse than the Modesteps and the Ianite pirates put together.

After only a few moments of lying face down in his pillow the pillowcase was wet with snot from his constantly dribbling nose. He sat back in disgust, sighing frustratedly. He needed out--and he didn’t know if he could wait on Jordan to build his portal.

With an appropriate amount of sniffling and groaning he put on the simple armor he had managed to craft the day prior and stepped outside.

It was midday and the sun beat down on the city in the plains relentlessly. As soon as he took his first congested breath of fresh air he sneezed and regretted leaving the safety of the bed and breakfast. But sitting inside all day was driving him madder than his allergies, especially when everyone else was being productive. He had already wasted yesterday in a drowsy haze of SkeleTom’s defective medication.

He still wasn’t going to hang out with Tom and his evil pirate fixation though.

The walk from the bed and breakfast to the town square was a short one and Tucker wasted no time gazing at the sights. He was a man on a mission. As he rounded the side of a building and the Mianite temple came into view he quickened his pace, stepping over Captain Captain’s tripwire, and slipped inside.

It was cool and dim in the temple, the only light source being a few long burning candles on the quartz altar at the front. All of the windows were shuttered with heavy wooden blinds, likely to keep the elaborate tapestries hanging from the rafters from fading in the sunlight. They were brilliantly colored, depicting Mianite enacting various forms of justice while golden wheat shone behind him. Tucker wasn’t impressed with the artistry. Compared to the temple in the land of Mianite this was nothing. Honey may seem like the picture perfect Mianite champion but her temple sucked and Tucker took pleasure in besting her on that front.

He approached the altar and swiped the book laid open on the center of it. All pages prior to the one it was open to had been ripped out. The tears were neat and close to the binding--clearly Honey’s work. There was a dropper behind the altar, shimmering with a godlike enchantment, and Tucker figured that’s where he should drop prayers. It was interesting how similar communication with the gods was here in comparison with his home dimension. He was hoping this god would be a bit more responsive than his own, however.

He grabbed the quill on the altar as well, noting the beautiful golden feather and plopped down on the front pew preparing to write until the god responded. It’s not like there was anything else to do in this city without getting penalized anyway. Honey had made that very clear.

He started out eloquently, introducing himself, because he had to remember that this wasn’t his Mianite, and explaining the circumstances. He made note to mention that he was the Mianite champion in his own universe and give a flowery overview of his deeds and accomplishments. Tucker figured that the higher this Mianite thought of him the more he would be willing to help him out. He definitely wanted to speed run this experience-- no waiting around on world ending calamities to open up the void. And no waiting for Jordan to figure out what even Deviser Gaines struggled with either.

He had just gotten to the part where he heroically slayed Dianite to rescue Ianite and save his dimension when the solid oak doors swung open behind him and heavy footfalls approached. He stifled a cough and looked over his shoulder, expecting Sonja.

Honey was marching towards him instead. Immediately Tucker straightened up, trying his best to look the part of a proper champion despite feeling like Tom on a sunny day. Which was to say--bad.

“You’re quite devoted.” She intoned, coming to a stop at the end of his pew.

“Yeah well, I try.” He chuckled awkwardly, before pausing and running a hand through his hair.

He felt he had made a rocky first impression with Honey courtesy of a few too many snarky remarks. She was also kind of scary and her rapier and armor was well above what he had managed to craft the few days prior. Not to mention he could barely read her. She was perfectly stone faced aside from her ears.

“I’ve been praying so we can get out of your hair. Figured if anyone can get me out of this gods-forsake- erm... if anyone can get us home it’d be Lord Mianite.”

“A shame. I was rather hoping you’d decide to stay.”

Though her words were passive her tone suggested that he strongly reconsider is bid to leave.

“Not a chance.” He laughed, “No offense, this is a nice town and all but I’d rather die than stay here. Actually, scratch that- I probably will die.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

He believed her.

“Look, I’m not trying to be rude here, but nothing short of an ancient prophecy from Mianite himself is going to get me to stay.”

“I take it that’s happened before.”

“Yeah, it was a whole big deal in the last dimension we were in. Don’t think it made much of a difference though, we sort of caused the end of the world on our way out.”

He balked under her observant turned piercing stare.

“Uh, that’s not going to happen here, though.”

“I should hope not. I’ve labored too many years here to have it all destroyed because of some unexpected guests. That being said, you’re still welcomed despite your apparent track record.”

“Gee, thanks.”

He sighed and closed the prayer book, before standing and placing it back on the altar.

“Speaking of track record,” he began tredeptatiously, “and you’re smart so I’m sure you’ve picked up on this-”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“-that’s not what I- I’m taken. Um, look Tom isn’t exactly the most rule abiding person. He's been pretty good so far, and you've been doing a good job keeping track of him, but he won't stay so placated for long.” Honey’s stern eyes didn’t leave him the whole time he spoke. Tucker ended up choking on his cough in the back of his throat--unwilling to show weakness.

“Yes, Sonja made that clear during the initial tour, and his conduct during your allotted mining hours affirmed it. You need not remind me, I am keeping an eye on it. We are well versed in dealing with troublemakers.”

“Right,” he muttered, “Captain Captain. I just figured I’d warn you, Mianite champion to Mianite champion and all.”

He placed his hands on his hips in a very self important sort of way but Honey didn’t react beyond blinking. Tucker pressed his lips together in a firm line, never missing how the inhabitants of Ruxomar had thought him hot shit more than now.

“He doesn’t care if you kill him by the way,” he added, moving swiftly on from that embarrassing floundering, “he’ll just keep popping up like nothing happened, it doesn’t work on him.”

It was strange that that was the statement to wring a reaction out of her. To Tucker it seemed she would have been able to infer something like that, but the tilt of her head and squint of her eyes indicated otherwise. He felt something tighten in his chest. The implications of the source of her confusion were less than ideal.

“What’s that look for.”

She continued to look at him, brows furrowed in confusion and the blatant telegraphing of her emotions made him uncomfortable.

“I don’t follow.” She finally said.

“What part.”

“Is he immortal? A god?” she asked and the bad feeling in Tucker’s chest grew heavier.

“I mean technically yes, he’s Dianite-”

And he didn’t miss the way she flinched, the muscles jumping in her forearms and biceps as she tensed.

“-but not in this dimension. Okay, I’m about to ask a potentially stupid question, um-- do you guys not come back to life when you die?”

“No.”

Fuck.

“Oh gods- I need to-” and he took a few unsteady steps back to the pew before sinking down into it like all the breath had been driven from his lungs. It felt like it. Or maybe he was about to have a panic attack.

Of course this dimension had no respawn, why would it. There’s apparently a pattern to keep, after all.

Unwittingly, his mind flashed back to a small dark cave, with holes and crevices in the rock stretching up above him, shrouded in shadow. It felt like the world had dimmed around him, and he could feel the grit of cobblestone and coal under his fingernails. The air tasted stale and dank. He felt claustrophobic.

He pushed his hands through his hair, gripping tightly and knocking the cap from his head.

This was just like the island, although he had no intention of dying here. He was going to live and escape. He didn’t want to die again, not like that. Not without being able to come back.

Honey was taking his mini breakdown rather well, just standing impassively and letting him work it out of his system. Maybe later he would scream into his pillow until he went hoarse, but for now he needed to make sure Sonja’s alt² didn’t think he was too much of a crazy person.

“I’m fine, that’s fine--normal even, sorry, I said it would be a stupid question.” He paused to breathe, finding it a little hard and not entirely because of his allergies.

“If you need some time I’ll be on my way.” Honey started, motioning to the doors. And though he realized she probably didn’t get what was happening, he appreciated her discretion.

Tucker sighed and breathed in and out a few more times before sitting up and placing his hat back on his head. Unfortunately, he couldn’t afford to sit down and think about tight cave spaces and hissing monsters that were always just out of his line of sight.

“No, I have more questions.” He wheezed before snapping his fingers, “A priest, do you have a priest? Declan?”

“We do not.”

Right, of course not. That would be too easy. What’s the point of a world where death is permanent if it isn’t inescapable?

He also thought it odd, because even on Trinity Island Declan had a way of reaching them. Tucker just assumed he was a universal constant. Though if anything he learned about Ihatchu so far was to be believed, it was that Captain Captain was a murderous maniac and probably killed him.

Thinking about that now and knowing that those who died stayed dead set him on edge.

“Tell me about Mianite, how do I get in contact. What’s the fastest way.”

He might've been losing his cool a bit.

“Writing prayers is the most assured way to-”

She cut herself off mid sentence, Tucker hanging on her words like the end of a rope, holding his breath.

“Honey-”

“Silence.”

He shut his jaw with a clack, frustrated energy thrumming under his skin. He wasn’t a particularly patient person on most days but right now it felt as though if he didn’t get answers from Mianite himself right this second he would explode. Or scream. Or both.

Honey was statue still. Her ears were twitching continuously and he could hear her quick inhales in the silence of the temple. He didn’t miss how her hand had drifted to the hilt of her rapier. She seemed to be waiting for something that only she had noticed.

He stilled as well, but couldn’t hear or smell anything out of the ordinary. Before he even had a chance to open his mouth and ask what she was paying attention to she was storming down the aisle and out of the doors at a furious pace.

He followed, scrambling up out of the pew and dashing out after her into the evening air.

The first thing he noticed was that he had spent much longer inside the temple than he thought, and the second thing was a large column of black smoke rising up into the golden sky a few blocks away.

Honey was already disappearing down a street in that direction.

Tucker had a bad feeling about this.

He followed suit, boots pounding against clean cobblestone streets.

It was clear what had happened before he even rounded the final corner. Tucker could hear the roaring crackle and feel the heat of flames before actually seeing the fire. But as soon as he did it was obvious who had started it.

Standing an unsafe distance from the inferno was Tom, cackling like mad and looking entirely like Dianite incarnate. Reflections of the flames glittered madly in his dark, undead eyes and his suit was smoldering slightly as rogue embers sizzled against the cloth.

It was only then did Tucker realize that the structure currently on fire was an entire fucking house.

“Oh, you fucking idiot.”

Tom spotted Tucker and lifted his hand to wave at the same moment Honey rushed and clotheslined him. She swung wide, her heavy forearm bracer catching him in the throat and sending him flat on his back in a singular movement. Tom’s shriek of surprise was cut short as his back hit the street and the breath was driven from his lungs.

Honey pinned him with her knee and immediately straightened, scanning the surrounding streets with her hawklike gaze. Tom writhed beneath her, horrid choking sobs adding to the roaring of the flames as he struggled to take in air.

Tucker didn’t quite get what she was looking for until he saw a glint of something metallic and spotted Captain Captain leaning on the railing of a porch across the street. The pirate and lawmaker locked eyes across the way. The Ianite champion grinned before shaking his head and turning to head out of sight.

“You’re not going to go after him?” Tucker asked, nodding to the side alley where Captain Captain had disappeared.

Tom had started squirming more purposefully under Honey’s weight, reaching for a wicked looking dagger that had been knocked free of his belt and was lying a few feet away. She increased pressure on his sternum and he let out an undignified squeak.

“Get off of me, lady!” Tom whined, legs thrashing.

Honey ignored Tom’s protests, turning to Tucker. Her expression was so fearsome he noticeably stiffened, taking half a step back.

“He’ll get what’s his.” She growled.

Normally, Tucker would've offered his assistance in apprehending him, but recently learning he was a very mortal man had him acting with caution. He didn't want to test his luck when the outcome could very well be a crossbow bolt between the eyes.

“And Tom?” He asked above the flurry of foul words the Dianite champion was now spitting at Honey.

“Tom will receive punishment fitting the crime.”

Tucker did a double take, “What? No trial?”

“Have you any doubt of his responsibility for this?”

Tucker looked at the blazing inferno and then back at Tom, still struggling beneath Honey and looking like he would kill if he could.

His answer was an unfortunate, “No…”

With a deft movement, Honey let up the pressure on Tom’s chest and fisted her hand in his hair at the nape of his neck. She yanked hard, twisting his head so his face was pressed harshly into the street. Tom sputtered as his teeth hit cobblestone, lips splitting and staining the ground red.

He thrashed, kicking with his legs, but Honey held fast and flipped the rest of his body stomach down with a sharp knee to his kidneys.

“I’m taking him in.” She decided, then inclined her head towards a narrow line of grates bordering the street. “Use the city’s waterline to put out the fire, I won’t have it spreading.”

Tucker hesitated. He couldn’t just let Honey take Tom away, what if she killed him? Rationally, he knew she wouldn’t, that would be absurd but…

“Hey now, shouldn’t I tag along to see how you do things? Not that I don’t trust you but we’re used to a more democratic system when it comes to doling out punishment.”

He inhaled sharply before continuing, “Griefing was against the law in our dimension as well, I’m sure there’s some sort of explanation that would…” Tucker trailed off. Was he really about to say there might be a reason that justified Tom burning a house down? He hoped for the zombie’s sake there was one. What the hell had gotten into him.

Honey was unmoved by his pleas.

“How many times will you have to defend the actions of your friend, preemptively or in response to his misdeeds, before you take a critical eye to his moral character.”

She had a point. They were making an awful lot of excuses on Tom’s behalf. But the alts² didn’t know Tom. He was an obnoxious Dianitee who liked to play with fire but damn it, he was Tucker’s friend too.

“I’ve known him long enough to make my judgments.” He retorted. “I’ll put out the fire, just don’t do anything permanent. You aren’t the only Mianite champion around anymore.”

Honey’s dark eyes narrowed, the fire flickering dangerously in the reflection of her pupils.

“Reconsider that statement.” She said coldly, standing and hauling Tom with her.

Tucker stood his ground, likely foolishly. He doubted she’d kill him, that wasn’t exactly just and she seemed to pride herself on that sort of thing, but she was stronger than him, more geared than him, and had very sharp teeth and big muscles. In a one on one he would decidedly lose, but if he backed down here than what sort of a man was he, no less what sort of champion.

Honey didn’t back down so much as brush him aside. Wrenching Tom’s right arm up and behind his back, still gripping his hair, she shoved him down the street in the direction that Tucker knew was the jail.

The zombie was cursing loudly, and Tucker caught his wild gaze as he was marched past.

“Tucker! Dude back me up! No one was living there what’s the big deal!”

“He will be released in the morning.” Honey said as a final goodbye, leaving Tucker to deal with the house fire himself.

Tucker coughed, the acrid taste of smoke hitting the back of his throat. Perfect.

In the end, he did a very half-assed job of putting out the fire. He made sure it wouldn’t spread to any other buildings and then bailed, figuring the structure would be a lost cause anyway.

There were much more important things to attend to, like making sure everyone else knew there was no respawn. It was then that he realized that Tom had no idea and had burned down a building with the confidence of someone who could never die.

And Captain Captain had probably egged him on to boot. He was totally trying to get Tom killed!

The sun was well on its way to dipping below the horizon now, and the sky was tinged a dusky purple. Streetlights began to flicker on as Tucker turned and sprinted back towards the bed and breakfast, flames still crackling at his back. The shadows on porches and down alleyways began to seem more sinister as he ran and he had to focus on the rhythm of his feet and breath to keep his brain from conjuring up creeper hissing. Thank Mianite for intuitive city layouts because he was back on the doorstep of their shared living space within a few minutes, if horrendously out of breath.

As he leant heavily on the doorframe catching his breath, feeling the congestion crackle in his chest alongside the smoke inhalation, a familiar soothing voice piped up behind him.

“Hey Tucker, there’s like a big fire over there or something. Wonder what that’s all about.”

Tucker whipped around, only looking mildly crazed, to find Waglington staring placidly back at him.

“Get inside, we need to have a meeting.” He ordered hoarsely, pulling open the door and shoving the wizard inside.

“Ah, is it about the fire?” Waglington asked, not in any hurry at all despite Tucker’s urging.

“No- well yes, that’s part of it.” They entered the bedroom, and Sonja was already present, lounging on her bed and scrawling crossly into a journal.

“Where’s Sparklez.” Tucker badgered.

“Downstairs.” Sonja answered without looking up, and Waglington shuffled over to peer at her notes.

“What’s got you so peeved.” The wizard inquired, flicking the tips of her ears which were lying flat against her head in displeasure.

She sighed heavily.

“I’ve been trying to investigate some lights out of town, but Mericho’s dogs won’t let me out.”

“Hmm that is a predicament indeed.” He murmured, and Tucker tuned them out, hurrying down the steps to the basement.

“Jordan!” He barked, startling the Ianite champion into dropping a component he was holding. It broke in half upon hitting the ground and a piece of it skittered somewhere out of sight.

“Oh gods-” He turned around blue eyes blazing angrily, “Tucker!”

“Worry about that later, I have news.” And he grabbed the shorter man by the wrist, tugging him back up into their shared living space. He stumbled crossly after Tucker, fixing his askew sunglasses as he was yanked along.

“Okay, stop.” Jordan grumbled, snatching his hand back from Tucker with a scowl, “what’s this about.”

“We’re missing Tom.” Waglinton observed.

“You smell like smoke.” Sonja commented.

Tucker muffled a cough in his elbow. “I’ll get to that.” He paused to make sure he had their full attention before continuing. Jordan cast a mournful glance down at the cellar and Tucker snapped his fingers to bring his focus back around.

“I was talking to Honey today and to make a long and awkward conversation short,” he inhaled sharply, “we have no respawn.”

“Well, that sucks.” Jordan said eloquently.

Sonja frowned, looking back at her notepad. “That makes a lot of sense actually.”

Waglington looked confused.

“What so like, if we die, we die?”

"Yeah, pretty much." Tucker confirmed, "And I have no idea what happens when we do die. Dec isn't here, no idea if the gods will pop up any time soon, so-"

"Wait, no Declan?" Jordan piped up, "I thought he was like- a universal constant."

"Yeah, that's what I thought too, and if I'm honest here I think he straight up died."

“That’s troubling.” Waglington muttered, sitting down on his bed.

“Right. So we should all just keep our heads down, no dangerous shit.” He crossed his arms. “Speaking of-- Tom decided to burn down a house tonight and got himself caught by Honey.”

Waglington laughed, Jordan sighed heavily, and Sonja put her head in her hands.

“She wouldn’t kill him, right?” Jordan worried.

Tucker shrugged, “She said she’d release him in the morning so that implies not.”

That seemed to be enough for Jordan, who tentatively stretched with a yawn, spine audibly popping.

“Alright, well, I guess that’s fine…”

Sonja’s face wrinkled, “Not really. I can easily picture him pissing her off even more.”

Tucker huffed. “Not much we can do about it, trust me, I tried.”

In truth, he probably could have tried harder, but no one else was there and therefore couldn’t challenge him on it.

Tom would be fine.

"Look just-" he sighed, taking a shaky step backwards until the backs of his knees hit his bedside, and he sunk into the mattress with a quiet huff.

"-we had instructions on Trinity Island. Beat all the bosses and be the last one standing. But here we don't have a guaranteed revival, even if one of us makes it out. We can't just fuck around like on Ruxomar."

Waglington looked the most troubled of all, and Tucker was reminded that the wizard had never gone without respawn before. Tucker could practically see the gears turning in his head as he likely parsed out the quickest way to become invincible via local magic.

"Well, this place doesn't seem so bad." Jordan pitched in, "All I have to do is finish the portal and it'll be okay."

Tucker didn't miss the way Jordan had clipped his sentences, his tone rife with his trademark subtle passive aggression. He winced, recalling the intricate looking portal component Jordan had dropped.

The Ianite champion didn't spare him another glance, slipping back downstairs.

Tucker was busy feeling sorry for himself.

Sonja shot him a sympathetic look from where she was curled up against her headboard.

"What a world, huh?”

He frowned, sniffling as his allergies tickled the back of his nose again.

"It's a crap one, that's what it is."

...

Tucker woke in the morning to the sound of a door slamming open. He jerked awake, not that he had been in that deep of a sleep to begin with, to see Tom’s ugly mug stomping through the bedroom towards the stairs to the basement. He would’ve gotten up to stop him--Tom needed to learn about their mortality like yesterday-- but as soon as he sat up he felt the phlegm in his lungs and hacked and coughed to regain his breath.

The mucus he spit out was thick and disgustingly yellow. His mouth tasted like smoke.

By the time he had pulled enough air into his lungs and recovered, Tom was already in the basement and Tucker could hear the indistinct rumble of Jordan’s voice.

Tucker swiped an unused notebook from Sonja’s bed and began his prayers to Mianite anew, keeping an eye on the cellar stairs for Tom’s return. He’d go down himself but he had a feeling if Jordan broke another portal component because of him he’d probably get a lot more than passive aggressive.

It wasn’t long before he could hear Tom’s voice rising in volume from the basement anyway. Jordan marched up the stairs soon after, Tom hot on his heels, gesticulating wildly.

“You admit to wanting me to suffer!”

Jordan ignored him and nodded at Tucker before exiting the bed and breakfast. It looked like Tom was fixing to go after him and so Tucker stood, taking a step forward to grab the zombie’s shoulder and prevent him from pursuing the Ianite champion.

Tom attempted to shrug out of his grip, hurling one last sentence at Jordan’s back.

“SkeleTom’s a limp dicked pushover, when you get bored of being his bitch let me know!”

“Tom, quit it.” Tucker grumbled, pulling him back from the doorway.

The zombie rounded on him and Tucker noticed he was cradling an injured hand to his chest.

“You can’t seriously be chill with this, can’t you see Sparklez is traitoring us?”

“Look man, I don’t give a shit about SkeleTom, but what I do care about is the fact that we have no respawn and you’re acting like a maniac.”

Tom paused, looking confused. Tucker could see the gears turning in his head before his eyes sparked with understanding.

“No shit?”

“Yeah man, so I’m pretty sure Captain Captain was trying to get you killed.”

Tucker waited with a patience he reserved just for Tom and saw the zombie still and go silent. His eyes unfocused and the red light in them dimmed slightly. He absently flexed his broken hand tentatively and looked at the ground, then Tucker. "That can't be it," he said more in a pleading tone to himself than Tucker.

Tucker held to that patience like a man drowning in the sea clutching driftwood as he was carried into a torturous storm. "Tom, I'm serious. Go help Wag or Sonja--lay off on the pranking and shit until we're home."

"No!" Tom immediately defended. He crossed his arms. "I'll just be more careful. That was just a slip-up. If Captain MoreFun meant to kill me he would have." The zombie sighed and deflated, looking at the door Jordan had long left. "I just…"

"Yeah, Tom?" Tucker asked gently. If his allergy drained brain was interpreting things correctly, Tom was upset.

"We don't hang out," Tom said to Tucker, eyes still dim. "First you got busy in Ruxomar, then Jordan found everything to do but hang out and Wag always is off building. I just want someone I can go do pranks with--someone who finally won't get bored of me."

It hurt. Tucker had got consumed with Blood Magic and Mianite knows what tech Jordan had been doing. "Tom, we're your friends. I'd hug you but I'm starting to feel like vomiting."

Tom wrinkled his nose and then shook his head quickly. He looked at Tucker and genuinely smiled, but let it drop. "What am I saying? That's just the healing potion talking." Tucker sighed as Tom spun on his heels to the door, giving him a middle finger. "Fuck you, I can do whatever; you're all losers and Captain Fun is a lot more entertaining."

Tucker let him go, he had a list of things to accomplish and at the end of the day it was clear that not even Honey Badger could reign Tom in.

| ABOUT | CHARACTERS | PLOT |

#discordant plains #mianite #iijeriichoii #mianitefa #Honey Badger #mianite fan fiction #mianite fan art

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eleanor-writes-stuff · 5 years

Text

a language of its own - Day 11

“And the heart is hard to translate, it has a language of its own.”

All the ways Rey and Ben say “I love you”.

It’s Day 11 of my 12-day Valentine’s collection! Today’s prompt is a wipe my tears away kind of love, and it marks a triumphant return to soft fluff after our slight detour. Way longer than a thousand words, but that goes without saying at this point, right? Happy reading!

12 Days of Valentine’s Also available on AO3 Psst, you can also find me on Twitter and Ko-fi!

It’s way too bright outside by the time Rey wakes up.

For a moment there she’s so disoriented by the sight of sunlight spilling into their room in November that she fails to realize just how fucked she is. But eventually her eyes drop from the crack between the curtains to land on the digital clock on Ben’s nightstand, and that’s when she starts freaking out.

Seven minutes past nine. It’s seven minutes past nine, and she’s still tangled up in her sheets instead of dressed and awake and at work the way she’s supposed to be.

“Fuck,” Rey hisses as her frantic attempts to kick off the sheets lead to her falling over the edge with a thump. “Fuck, fuck, fuck–”

“Rey?”

She finally breaks free and peers over the side of the bed to find Ben looking at her with a slight furrow between his brows and an apron tied around his neck.

“Ben! Ben, it’s way past seven, we’re going to be so late–”

He steps into the room with a laugh and helps her up. “Sweetheart, I don’t have anywhere to be anymore, remember? And neither do you, today.”

“But I– your dad– wait.” Realization is slow to dawn upon her until she catches sight of the date tucked away in the top right corner of Ben’s clock. 11/03/19 grabs her attention and gives her pause, and suddenly the whole thing makes sense.

“Ben, you know I don’t–”

“I know,” he tells her, pulling her into his arms and dropping a kiss on her crown. She wants to tell him that’s cheating, wants to step away from him and demand that he put an end to this before it starts, but it’s too late. “Happy birthday, Rey,” Ben murmurs against her forehead, and he’s so goddamn gentle about it that she gives in with a sigh.

“Baby, I appreciate whatever it is you’ve planned for today but there’s a reason I don’t…” celebrate. Ever. Not once in all the time he and the others have known her, not even when she and Finn first met at the age of sixteen. Funny how it’d taken her two years to tell Finn why her birthday never seemed to roll around but only two months to tell Ben all about the day she’d been abandoned on the steps of a police station with no birth certificate, no documentation, nothing but a tiny scrap of paper bearing three hastily scrawled letters.

Today is the twenty-second anniversary of that day.

Ben steps back and swallows her protests with a kiss. “I got my dad to give you the day off so that you can do whatever you want… whether that’s having a party with all your friends tonight or ignoring everyone so that we can pretend today is just another day. It’s all up to you, Rey.”

She knows that despite her best attempts this past week to communicate just how not into her birthday she is, sweet old Chewie probably brought cake into work today anyway. Rose must have arranged for flowers and a teddy bear to be delivered as always, and Poe will be running around town trying to hunt down the perfect gag gift in the hopes of making her laugh. And Finn… Finn’s birthday wishes are always somehow both the best and the worst, because he’s the only one who can come anywhere close to understanding how she feels but he just can’t seem to get why she still feels this way after all these years, why she’s refusing to let herself heal and rise above her past.

But Chewie’s cake and her friends’ gifts can’t reach her in this apartment where Finn’s sincere wishes and Poe’s bad jokes can easily be silenced by ignoring her phone and the outside world. The heartfelt words, the carefully selected gifts… Ben’s offering to let her put it all on hold until she’s ready and able to handle it with grace. “That… that sounds kinda perfect, actually,” Rey concedes, wrapping her arms around his waist as she buries her face in his neck.

“Okay,” Ben says, one hand coming to rest low on her waist. “Just another day it is, then,” he declares, running his fingers through her hair as she nuzzles his neck. It’s only been two weeks since he walked away from his disaster of a job, but already Rey’s gotten used to waking up with him still fast asleep and curled around her, to having him all to herself.

Since it’s just another day, Ben tells her to go get washed up while he transfers breakfast from the birthday tray he’d carefully put together to their little coffee-slash-dining table. It feels more like a weekend than anything else when they squeeze themselves into the gap between the table and the couch and take their own sweet time enjoying every single breakfast food Ben could find in their kitchen.

After, he hauls her up to the couch and queues up a Pixar marathon, a little rainy day tradition they’d unintentionally formed two years ago. Outside it’s still unseasonably sunny for this time of year, but Ben pulls her close and lets her cuddle into his side anyway, draping one furnace-warm arm around her shoulders.

They spend the afternoon like this until Rey’s stomach rumbles, and even then Ben gives her the option of calling for pizza or waiting for him to go ahead with the special birthday dinner he’d had in mind for her. Her heart feels almost too full when he shows no disappointment at all over her choice of pizza, telling her with a shrug that he’s too hungry to cook anyway.

Later, much later, long after the last Pixar movie and the final slice of pizza, shortly after she let Ben talk her into accepting at least one birthday present, Rey curls into his side and places a kiss on his bare shoulder while his thumb traces a soothing, repetitive pattern over her hip.

“It’s not that I don’t like birthdays,” she murmurs into the night. “Or celebrations, or gifts. I love gifts, I love that you guys care enough to get me something. I love that you care enough to plan this whole day, even if I did kinda ruin it.”

Ben curls one arm around her waist and pulls her closer so that he can brush his lips along her forehead, so that she’s half on top of him. “You didn’t ruin anything, sweetheart. It’s your birthday. You get to decide what you want to do, even if it’s nothing.”

“I love birthdays,” Rey insists. “I really do. I just…”

His thumb grows still. “Just?”

She readjusts her head on Ben’s chest with a sigh, words nearly drowned out by her little sounds of happiness and the rustle of the sheets. “I just don’t like the way I feel on them, that’s all.”

Warm lips linger on her temple as one big hand curves along her hip, effortlessly spanning nearly half of her. All of this Ben does without comment, wordlessly encouraging her to go on, to confide in him.

A shuddery breath pushes past her lips. “Lonely,” Rey finally confesses into the night. “Every year I just feel so lonely, no matter how many people I’m with, no matter how many friends I’m surrounded by. As if deep down I’m still that baby on the steps, still the kid no one wanted, all alone in this world.”

She doesn’t even realize she’s crying until her tears streak across her face to pool between her cheek and Ben’s chest. There’s no great big sob stuck in her throat, no acute sadness in her heart, just… memories and feelings she’s never quite been able to bury completely even as they grow distant and faint.

Ben moves to rest on his side, putting them eye to eye and chest to chest as he gently wipes away her tears, thumbing at the saltwater streaks down her cheeks. When he lets his hand fall away she moves closer and tucks her head under his chin, takes a shaky breath as he wraps his arms around her.

“You’re not alone,” Ben murmurs just as she’s about to close her eyes, and Rey draws back to find his gaze fixed intently upon her. “You don’t ever have to be alone again, Rey. I promise.”

You’re not alone anymore, Finn had pointed out the first time she told him about her birthday. We’re not going anywhere, Rose and Poe and all the others have repeatedly assured her. But somehow all of it has always felt so temporary, so fragile, as if any day now they’d wake up and come to the same realization that had led her parents to abandon her on those steps.

But the way Ben says it, holding her in his arms in their bed in the home they’ve made together…

Together, she’d promised him when it felt like his life was falling to pieces.

Together, he’s proven to her time and time again these past few years.

Rey reaches down, finds the hand curled around her hip and takes it in her own. “Neither do you,” she whispers, giving Ben a small smile as the implications of his promise wash over her.

He meets her halfway, leaning down just as she tilts her head up to kiss him. It’s soft and slow, the both of them tired after a long day of nothing, and when he pulls away it’s only to touch his forehead to hers as he brushes a sweet Eskimo kiss against her nose. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

And for once, it is.

I've been working on this for a full day now, so I think it's time to let go and move on to the next piece.

It feels like more ground should have been covered since this is the penultimate ficlet leading up to the you-know-what, but the last few pieces have been so unexpectedly heavy that I quite like the idea of this one slowing things down and guiding us back into fluff territory. It's a bridge between days 10 and 12, I guess. Or at least that's what I'm telling myself because otherwise I'll never stop trying to fix this.

Anyway, Day 12 is upon us, friends... so you know what that means! @nancylovesreylo predicted a few chapters back that these idiots wouldn't actually get around to saying it until the last day and now here we are. You know me too well, Nancy!

As always, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. Please don't hesitate to like/reblog/comment, and I'll see you tomorrow (or later today, I guess) for the final ficlet!

Bonus headcanon: the one time Ben talked about his nose being too big, Rey shut it down by saying it's perfect for Eskimo kisses. So that's a thing for them now.

#reylo #rey x ben #kylo ren/rey #rey/kylo ren #rey/ben solo #star wars #rey #ben solo #kylo ren #ficlet: language of its own #my fics

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chwepen · 6 years

Text

witching hour | m

↘︎ day 12 of fictober: witches, witch!au ♢ pairing: jung yoonoh & reader ♢ genre: smut ♢ word count: 3028 ♢ summary: you push and pull until a late night encounter finally places you into each other’s sights.

For a powerful witch, you feel weaker than you’ve ever felt whenever a certain boy stands too close to you. The girls in your family are from an established bloodline, built on the bones of what younger witches and warlocks could only wish to be, and yet Jung Jaehyun seems to tap a nerve that tears every part of the symbols of your family’s foundation to pieces. Strength, control, independence. All gone with the simplest trail of his eyes along your skin. Power seems to drain out of you because of him, but that could just be from all the verbal and physical tension between you both. You don’t know how to feel about it or him, given all of your emotions heighten whenever he’s around, good and bad.

The two of you have known each other for years through magical training, schooling and family dinners. The only time you got close to him romantically was in the form of a drunken kiss shared in a broom closet at one of Mark Lee’s house parties. You tried to forget the kiss that felt like a one-time thing. Nothing happened after that besides the usual friendly greetings and underlying physical gestures, but those instances sparked the same effects you feel to this day in his presence. Maybe Jaehyun gets such responses out of you because he’s also from a powerful magical clan, challenging your abilities and talents alongside your emotions in such a way that screams it’s fate. Maybe it was, the two of you pushing and pulling until you both eventually click into place. You refuse to believe it, though; Jaehyun’s too arrogant to deserve such validation.

That’s how you find yourself in a bar called the Hollow, the city’s known haven and getaway for fellow witches and warlocks. Doyoung and Sunni toss back rum and cokes and gossip about the latest scandal at work in the elixir shop, and you calmly listen and laugh when you’re supposed to. Normally, you would enjoy the moment and relax with your closest friends and let the worries of the day fade into nothing. You weren’t inept at having fun; you were a witch, and witches didn’t need to be told to enjoy themselves.

But Jaehyun is here, and he can’t keep his eyes off of you. And he knows you’re watching him, too.

You try to hide it, looking towards Doyoung as his hands wave wildly into the air at his anecdote, the boy’s dramatic flair one of the greatest things about him, but Jaehyun continues to keep his eyes glued to your back. He trails them down your purple slip dress to the revealing curve of your thighs and so on. It’s a ripple down your spine, like Jaehyun’s memorizing you for later.

Look at me again.

You hated this power you two shared the most. As legend has it, no matter how the bond is created, ties between two witches’ or warlocks’ thoughts can be made if both individuals want to speak to one another without actual verbal communication. It’s an advanced power, one not many can use or conjure up anymore. Only, you and Jaehyun learned such a power years ago from your private teachers and family members. Worse, you don’t exactly reject him or the bond because deep down, maybe a part of you wants him to be inside of your head, to connect with you this way. So, here he is, using his words to push you further into him.

Just once.

It’s like Doyoung and Sunni sense the shift in your demeanor, knowing you’re hooked as soon as you turn your body to face the booth across the room. Jaehyun sits next to Taeil and Yuta, eyeing you from over the rim of his brandy glass and paying little attention to what his friends are saying.

Happy now?

You quirk your eyebrows in his direction, but all he responds with is a smirk.

Not even close.

Your feet pull themselves off the ground and walk towards him, not caring what your mind does or doesn’t want to say on the matter. You think you hear Sunni yell “Go get him, tiger,” but you’re too far away to acknowledge it. Instead, you give the man that equally frustrates and excites you a cat-like grin in return.

You’re fucking impossible.

Taeil’s and Yuta’s faces twist into confusion at the laugh that leaves Jaehyun’s mouth, but once their mutual friend gets up to go and meet you halfway to the dance floor, they figure it out quickly.

When you finally stand in front of Jaehyun, you’re both breathless from spoken and unspoken words and the implications from every past look and “accidental” touch you’ve shared with each other. You don’t want to think of the soft curve of his bottom lip against your own. Imagine his hands on the places he’s only mapped out with his eyes. Envision the words he’d keep saved for you when no-one else is around in curses and whispers and grunts.

You don’t want to, but you do anyway.

Leave with me.

Jaehyun eyes widen with mirth, a smug smile widening on his face.

As the witch commands.

The sound of your back hitting the wall of Jaehyun’s hallway reminds you this is truly happening, not a teenage fantasy to scold yourself for later. His hands are everywhere, one underneath the back of your thigh and the other on the side of your neck, guiding you and pulling you into him. Your kisses are sloppy, the touches of your tongue and parts of your open mouths echoing in the small space alongside the blissful sounds that leave your mouths.

When you separate, Jaehyun’s eyes gleam. He tugs the hem of your dress until he pulls the piece over your head and throws it somewhere on the floor. He stops to admire you in just your bra and panties. Surprisingly, you don’t feel shy under his gaze. You’ve never been a bashful person or a coy witch, but you know intimacy does leave you vulnerable in a way you don’t experience often. But you want him to look at you this way, like the start of pleasure begins and ends with the lines of your body. You want to ask yourself why you didn’t let him or yourself have this before, to feel this yearning finally bleed into indulgence.

“Two years and three days.”

“What?” You ask before moaning when he takes one hand and dips it into your panties. Two of his fingers lewdly glide across your folds until he swirls them around your clit.

“It’s been two years and three days since the first time I kissed you,” he says, eyes already blown from lust, “And now, I don’t think I ever want to stop.”

“Then don’t. Don’t stop,” you gasp, bucking your hips into the movements of his hand. You use your own to unclip your bra and throw it in the same direction Jaehyun threw your dress, and he wastes no time taking one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucks hard and without mercy, his fingers matching the pace and feel of his mouth, and you could fall apart from that alone. But you know you want him to fill you so deep and help you forget how long the want for him stayed dormant. Now, it’s bursting to life, and you can’t hold out any longer.

He senses it, Jaehyun releasing your nipple with a pop and wrapping your legs around his waist to guide you into his bedroom. Barely any light comes in through his blinds, the darkness of midnight heightening your awareness. You know, for all the myths, the witching hour is a reality in your world. Your powers, your senses, everything elevates at this split in time, both the start and end of two days, the meeting of two intersecting lines.

If Jaehyun didn’t toss you softly onto the bed, you would laugh, finding the symbolism of it ironic.

The jingle of Jaehyun’s belt buckle and ruffle of his shirt snaps you from the thought, and you whisper, “I want to see you.”

You already know he’s smirking. By the time he waves a hand to light the candles on his dresser and nightstand, he’s only in his black boxer briefs and his cock is visibly hard. You bite your lip as you stare. You crave the feel of it in your hand and on your mouth when Jaehyun takes off the briefs entirely, admiring its size with a long look. When you reach to remove your panties, Jaehyun stops you from doing so with the turn of his head. Your hands are frozen in place, and you huff exasperatedly.

You don’t play fair.

Jaehyun laughs, thrill gleaming in his eye. “Never said I did, but I think you like it.” You do, so much it makes you hate how right he is.

After he wraps your hands together in one of his own and raises them over your head, he tugs the fabric down your legs with his free one. You kick it away, glad to have the air hit your skin. Knowing your hands will stay in place until he breaks you from his spell, he trails his kisses down. He starts with your mouth, deeply and languidly, and ends the kiss with the pull of your bottom lip between his teeth. Then he presses his lips to your neck, the column of your throat, your breasts (which he playfully bites too), and right before your navel.

Before long, he licks a long stripe up your slit, the wetness pooling on his tongue and making you moan in earnest. You want to wrap your hands in his hair, give it a hard tug to urge him to go faster, to make you come, but the invisible binds on your wrists will not budge, no matter how much you will your own magic to release you. “Let me touch you,” you whine, lifting your hips to meet his lips.

“Let me touch you first. I want to savor this,” Jaehyun replies, kissing and sucking your clit into his mouth. He trails two fingers along the inside of your thigh before he sinks them inside you.

A broken moan escapes your lips, the sound jagged and cracked and you know you cannot will yourself to hold back anymore. You press as much of your lower body against him, his movements feeling so good on you, inside of you, that when he adds a third finger, you come with the well of tears in your eyes and his name leaving your mouth over and over.

He wipes the remnants of your arousal off his lips with the back of his hand, but when he goes to kiss you with his tongue licking the inside your mouth, you taste yourself. You moan as his skin connects to yours in various places; your mouth connected to his, his hands on your hips, your sensitive core rubbed up against his cock. He smiles down at you, caressing your sides with his palms, and you feel the forces against your hands ebb away. Instantly, you wrap your hands into the curls at the nape of his neck and kiss him deeply again. When you part, he says, “Turn around, baby. Hands and knees.”

You nod with a smirk, turning around and pressing your hands into the sheets of Jaehyun’s bed, your ass in the air for him to pinch and stroke with his fingers. He releases a curse at the sight before him, but not before you hear the tear of a condom wrapper. You grin, ready to feel him.

Mortals commonly recognized witches for their self-indulgence and hedonism, believing you all used your magic to your every whim rather than for the help of others. While it was more of the latter than the former on the regular day, this is how you seek pleasure all the other times. You search for it in the connection of two bodies, the elements bending to your wills and heightening the experience in a way regular humans would never understand. And you can’t wait to feel the curl of yours and his magic wrapping around each other, intertwining until you forget how deep his is claiming you and yours is unraveling him.

By the time he presses the tip inside of you, you both moan loudly into the candle-lit room. The clench of your pussy around Jaehyun makes him groan as he presses deeper, your walls tightening around his cock so perfectly. You press your head into the sheets, releasing a long cry as he buries himself inside of you to the hilt. It’s a decadent feeling, and you don’t know if it this is the same magic everyone else feels with their lovers, mortal or not. But you savor it as your nerves buzz to life. Jaehyun wraps a hand in your hair softly and raises your head from the bed, leaning his chest into your back to murmur into your ear, “I wanna hear you. All of you.”

You moan loudly when he thrusts, cry when he pulls out to the point you barely feel him there, and repeat the process when he angles himself deeper inside of you. “Yes, Jaehyun. Please,” you shout, loving the way his body and the essence of him enfolds you with each and every propel of his body and touch of his skin to yours.

His hips go in and out languidly, and you know you’re already building towards a second peak. You can practically feel your arousal dripping onto the sheets when his cock leaves your pussy, only for him to pull you back against his body to feel the warmth of you again.

“You’re so tight. Fuck, I could stay like this, buried inside of you. All. Fucking. Night,” Jaehyun growls. As a string of groans leave his mouth, he pivots his hips in and out of you. The blunt strength makes you whimper his name in ecstasy. After another few seconds, he slows down and reverts to the pace he started with. You gasp at the change in his tempo, knowing you’re so close to coming.

He says your name in earnest, his voice laced with pleasure. “I want you to ride me.” He rubs your back and kisses the curve of your spine. “Would you like to?”

“Fuck, yes,” you reply. With that, he pulls out of you and turns you over. You expect him to get into position on his back, but he pulls you into his lap, making you squeal.

He laughs and kisses your nose, then your lips with tenderness. “Like this, baby.”

When you wrap your hands around the base of his cock, he grunts. He fills you up again, and you immediately grip his shoulders for support as you move your hips back and forth, then push your body up and down to take every piece of him that you can manage. The sound of your bodies slapping against each other is filthy, but so rewarding when he curses and grunts into your chest, doing his best to meet the clench of your pussy with his own thrusts. You whimper at the feeling, entirely different from him guiding you. You push against him, the knot in your core tightening at a rapid speed when Jaehyun presses his hand to your clit.

For as weak as you felt when you denied yourself of him and this, you feel powerful with Jaehyun’s body so close to yours, sensations blown to indescribable portions. What’s left of you follows the rhythm of the two of you chasing the end together. With his mouth attached to your breasts and turning your skin red and purple from his attention, strength and power could not be better than this: connection, desire, affection.

Come, baby. Come.

The three words flow into your mind and wrap around your skin until you do. You bounce on Jaehyun’s cock and ride out your high, feeling the blind spots of your vision pervade with color. With a broken cry, Jaehyun comes right after, spilling into the condom and rocking up into you until he stops moving altogether. You both feel the aftershocks of your orgasms, Jaehyun milking one more thrust before he slacks. With another press of your lips to his, you leave his lap and collapse onto the bed.

Running to the bathroom, Jaehyun discards the condom and grabs a wet rag. When he makes it back to you, he cleans you with soft touches and praises, a loving gaze in his eye that you wouldn’t have expected from him after the immodest words he spoke to you before. He throws the rag in his hamper and tucks the comforter over your bodies when he lays down next to you.

In the silence that pervades after you’re both finished catching your breath, Jaehyun whispers, “I like you. A lot.”

You blush, tucking your head into the curve of his neck. “I like you too.”

In the low light, the candles using the last of the wax, you realize you were never weak because of him. You might have been weak for him, but you let yourself believe wanting to be near him was a sign of weakness. And that was wrong. The only thing that could be wrong now was missing out on nights like these for so long.

“I’ve liked you for a long time, ever since that stupid house party. I just never admitted it to myself,” you admit, propping your chin on his shoulder to stare into his eyes.

They light up in muted glee, part of him too tired to express his complete excitement. “Ditto.” He kisses you lazily, the stroke of his lips against yours better than any magic you could create. “Sorry I didn’t ask you on a date first. Seems I couldn’t wait.” He grins sheepishly, to which you laugh.

“Likewise. But we can go out tomorrow. Right now, just lie with me?”

Jaehyun nods, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your forehead. “As my witch commands.”

#nctwriters #jaehyun smut #yoonoh smut #nct smut #jung jaehyung #nct #jung yoonoh #(fictober 2018)#im actually proud of this what?#it was a bitch to edit though vdbhfg

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