#a little late but inspired by the eclipse <3 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luminitewrites · 2 years

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Palaces of Purgatory

Heya! After reading the incredible series that is @naffeclipse's Sleuth Jesters, I felt compelled to write a little something inspired it. This is a drabble that takes place shortly after the events of the final fic in the series, so a few of the same warnings from 'Fire on Fire' will apply here. It is, of course, not canon at all to the series — just a what-if scenario. The Detective AU is by starlightcloudbaby.

Thank you, Naff, for letting me share this ficlet and for creating an amazing story with such lovable characters. Hope you enjoy this fun little AU spinoff <3

Rating: T (SFW) Word Count: ~14K Content Warnings: Aftermath of death, violence, possessive behavior, a broken bone, perceived hallucinations, trauma, mind games, and an inability to determine reality from nightmares.

(14K words can still be considered a drabble, right?)

You’re swept up in the sweet moments spent with your detectives, swapping brief kisses that sometimes turn heavy, and the thought of “honeymoon phase” does flick through your mind before you squash it like a bug. That’s a little too involved for you… at least for the immediate future.

You spend long days leaning against Moon as he works on cases and snatching his hat while he recharges, only for him to release an exasperated, robotic sigh every time he “wakes” up again and has to reclaim his hat. You quite enjoy wearing it when he lightly grips your chin and kisses you. And each time, you feign ignorance of him using the opportunity to grab his hat because it still counts as a win in your book.

Your late nights are spent chatting happily with Sun while he tries to clean around you. It’s quickly becoming a favorite hobby of yours to sit on the countertop while he’s disinfecting it, and when he tries to move you, you snag his suspenders and tug him into a kiss he all too easily goes along with.

But there are less pleasant moments too.

You give Sun and Moon the space they haven’t asked for but need. Eclipse’s death lingers heavily in the detectives’ shadows. They’re mourning as privately as they can, and you can’t help but feel responsible for their grief. You know they’d never fault you for what you did, and both have expressed their gratitude to you separately, but that doesn’t cancel out the hurt that follows.

More often than not, one or both have disappeared to the rooftop. You leave them be in those hours. They’re not enjoying the scenery when they’re up there.

But life, as people say, goes on. And eventually, they have to pick up the pieces of their shattered familial ties and trudge forward.

Moon returns to work swiftly, but Sun hangs back an extra day to recover. Even without frail human limitations, he’s still returning from a near-death experience. It probably doesn’t help him sleep knowing that it’s his deceased brother’s celestial wire that keeps him alive.

You’re as patient and gentle with them as you dare without letting it become overbearing. You still trade quips and flirty smiles, but you’re mindful about reading the room whenever it seems a little more grey than usual. Family is complicated. Even family who turned out for the worst. You won’t make light of that regardless of what you may think of Eclipse.

Which is to say… complicated. You know that you hate—hated—him. He did unspeakable things to not just you but innocent people. He burned with a lust for controlling the city, and you know that if he’d had his way, he wouldn’t have stopped with just this place. He wouldn’t have been satisfied with overpowering one location. He would have extended his reach even further, setting more fires and taking more land and lives that weren’t his, and it terrifies you to think of what that kind of future would have looked like.

But you’d hesitated when he’d said you loved him just as much as you hated him. He’d stared at you with such conviction, assured that he was right. And though you’d denied him his affections for a final time, his words have continued to follow you ever since. His ghost lingers strongly in your waking moments and in your sleep. You feel haunted and that your thoughts aren’t your own.

So why can’t you believe that maybe he wasn’t wrong? Why can’t you dismiss his last words as just the mad ramblings of a dying animatronic? Why is this bothering you so much?

You’ve spoken not a word of it to the detectives. Hell knows they have enough on their plates dealing with their own trauma. They don’t need you dumping yours onto it.

In the meantime, while quietly wrestling with your inner demons, you’ve been taking things easy as your body heals. It’s very much not fair how quick the detectives can spring back into action while you have to wait for your wounds to mend at a snail’s pace. The broken bones have taken the longest, and you’ve been kept on an unofficial house arrest in the detectives’ apartment. A broken rib is nothing to sneeze at. If it punctures a lung, you will be escorted to the hospital, and you really don’t want to chance that.

To soften the blow, Sun and Moon had revealed the bed they’d at some point set up for you in the guest room so that you wouldn’t have to spend another set of weeks on the couch. It’s incredibly kind of them and does very fluttery things to your chest that you absolutely ignore. But confinement is still a prison, and you are about to start scratching at the walls if you don’t get better soon.

You’re desperate for any kind of action in the typically quiet apartment, and that’s why you’re not at all prepared for the sound of the front door bursting open.

“I’ve got a lead!” you hear Sun shriek, and you very nearly press your head into your hands from the panic that almost sent you spiraling into.

Moon offers you an apologetic grimace and then rolls out of your bed from where he’d been lounging as he read a case file. You immediately miss his presence, so with great effort, you push to your feet as well and follow him out of the room.

Sun is splaying out a folder of papers on the coffee table with rapid-moving fingers, and you watch in a bit of a delayed reaction.

“Sun,” Moon sighs, remarkably more hushed than his partner, “There are other people in this complex. And what are you talking about? What lead?”

Yellow rays spin around in a blur as he looks up, and his grin shines. His blue pupils seem to sparkle with elation.

“About the case we’ve been working on, of course!” He twists the file around to face Moon. “I think I’ve found the address of whoever delivered those packages to Eclipse. Now it’s just a matter of finding and getting him to talk so we can know where at least one of Eclipse’s safe houses could be. We’re another step closer to busting it and maybe having a chance at finally dismantling the rest of the gang and cutting off any other mob connections!”

You hear Moon’s processor kick up a notch. “You were able to piece that together already? I would have thought it’d take much longer to look through all those record books,” he says thoughtfully and approaches the coffee table to get a closer look. He sits cross-legged on the floor and peruses the documents Sun excitedly pushes his way.

“It would have, but I maybe persuaded one of the receptionists to lend me a hand to cut down on time.”

Moon offers a dry rumble that you’ve since learned is his lighter version of a laugh.

Though your curiosity keeps you observing, you remain in the doorway to the living room, your feet unexpectedly rooted to the floor. You’re hesitating—or to put it more accurately, frozen—and it doesn’t take long for the others to notice.

It was just a single mention of Eclipse. Just one drop of his name, and that was enough to toss caution into your next move.

You’ve heard the detectives say his name prior to this. Often in heavier tones that betray the state of their grief. But this is the first time you’ve heard it in the same breath as Eclipse’s still powerful ties, and for a shocking second, you’re thrust back into the past to a time where he’s still alive and a prowling threat. Even now, he has an effect on you.

Sun calls your name, and you look up. His grin looks more uneven, his optics pensive and his expression compassionate. You out of everyone in this room deserve the least pity. It’s not fair for either of the detectives to have to walk on eggshells around you.

You push a smile and continue into the room as if nothing happened.

“This must be a pretty big break for you,” you say.

You eye the floor space next to Moon and weigh the pros and cons of trying to sit down and then get up from that distance. Sun makes the decision for you by reaching out and lightly directing you to join him on the couch. His hands are warm and tender where they wrap around your hips as he helps you sit down.

Okay, this is definitely too much attention. You’re not made of glass.

And while you’d normally be delighted to have the detectives’ hands on you, it feels a bit too reminiscent of another time, especially in the wake of Sun’s declaration. You know he couldn’t and wouldn’t ever be like his older brother. But the memories of the bruises still remain even though they’ve long since healed.

As delicately as you can, you curl your hands around Sun’s and pry them off. He immediately lets go, and that more than anything gives you comfort you really shouldn’t need.

Moon’s eyes watch you all the while. They don’t turn black, but you can tell his processor is running a mile a minute. Time to redirect.

With a curious hum, you lean forward and snatch one of the papers decorating the coffee table.

There’s a squawk of protest next to you, but neither detective tries to make a grab for it, so you assume this is one case file they aren’t too concerned about you getting your hands on. Given your history with the former mob boss, that isn’t much of a shock.

You scan the document. It’s a business transaction dated earlier this year. A payment for animatronic parts that was signed by the recipient. Nothing overtly stands out to you about it, and after a moment, you look up at Sun in confusion.

“Might have to spell out the details for me a little more, darling. I’m not seeing the connection.”

From where he flips through another series of papers, Moon says dryly, “You’ve looked at maybe one percent of the file.”

You fake a pout. “It’s not my job to stare at tedious receipts for hours on end. Maybe I just need a handsome pair of detectives to give me the lowdown.”

Sun huffs, but he scoots closer to you all the same with the same frenetic energy he’s exhibited since coming home and leans down to point to a blurb of text on the paper.

“Look here. This is the description of the items that were purchased on this date. And here,” his finger glides down lower, “is the model number of the ordered parts. Animatronics all have a special type of number to distinguish them by manufacturer as well as design. Moon and I were of course made by the same group. The supplier we rarely request parts from must have the specific model number of our bodies in order to send any proper replacements.”

Understanding begins to click. “And so this number here is…”

Sun makes an affirmative noise. “It’s the exact same as ours. Eclipse also came from the manufacturer we were created by, though it’s more apt to say he was an earlier model and was designed first. There’s few who have remotely similar designs to us, at least in this city. We were special ordered by the clients who purchased us, so we all bear a celestial motif. That also affects the model number and makes it rather unique.”

As Sun explains this, he leans closer all the while, lost in his words. Normally, you would be too—content to be immersed in the world of the detective’s mind. But you’re becoming less and less aware of what he says and more and more focused with heightened sensitivity on his sun rays as they accidentally press against your neck.

You go from a moment of intrigue to looming, abrupt anxiousness.

You’re utterly silent as Sun rambles on, locked in place. Your heart races with your ripening fear as more awful thoughts flood in.

The paper is incomprehensible to you. None of the words register as you stare blankly ahead and try to keep your breathing calm.

Moon happens to glance up in the next moment, and this time, his eyes do flash black.

“Sun,” he says hastily, sharp but quiet as if to not spook you further.

To his credit, the other detective stops talking right away. You can feel his rays dig in further as he looks from Moon and then over to you. You don’t meet his gaze.

Recoiling at your expression, Sun leans away instantaneously. Guilt festers in you right away. This is so ridiculous. Sun isn’t him. He could never be him.

Your pulse thunders in your skull and at the tips of your fingers. This might be turning into a problem you’ll have to address soon.

Over your dead body, that is.

“Are you alright?” Sun hesitantly asks.

Silly question. Silly detective. You’ve never been better.

You aim one of your prettiest smiles at him. That same haunted feeling you’ve been getting for weeks is reflected in Sun’s optics. It mocks you, and you think you might be going crazy when you imagine yellow pupils instead.

“I’m peachy keen, sugarplum,” you remark with a wink. “Just had something caught in my throat. So you were saying about the model number…?”

Your name crackles from Moon’s voice next. You don’t bother looking at him. You know what you’ll see there—the same as Sun.

It’s a very awkward minute of stillness. Nothing but the faint echoes of city life and the whirring sounds of the detectives’ servos. They’re waiting for you to actually address whatever just happened, and though the knot in your throat feels thick and your palms are a little sweatier than usual, you’re not going to acknowledge it. You’re not damaged goods. You’re not. Eclipse won’t take this last fragile peace from you.

You pointedly clear your throat and teasingly wave the paper at Sun. He stares hard for another devastatingly long second. It almost seems like he’s not going to let you have this.

But then, he releases a resigned sigh of static, and your shoulders relax. As he resumes discussing the connections he’s made in the document, his brother watches on warily. You know they’re both paranoid about your health. You won’t give them reason to question your grasp on reality too.

With your focus renewed, you listen to Sun explain how the transaction is actually one of many, the stack of papers on the table holding quite a few of them. And it’s by your luck that a couple have the signature of not just the recipient but also the deliverer. With the name available to him, Sun has been able to track down the person’s address in the city’s public records. And if they can find this individual and question them, then the chance of learning about where these parts were delivered will go up exponentially.

You whistle as Sun wraps up the less-enthusiastic recounting of his work. “You’ve been busy,” you say appreciatively.

Sun emits a sound akin to a cough. “I’ve done only half the work. Moon played a large role in getting us to this point.”

You at last work up the nerve to look at Moon again. The other animatronic doesn’t have darkened optics anymore, but he looks far from happy.

Maybe with a little prodding, he’ll come out of his funk. You reach out with your foot under the coffee table and poke him in the leg. Impressively, his grin could be mistaken for a scowl as he squints at you. Your face beams.

“So what part did you have in all this impressive work, Detective Moon?”

His pupils roll. It’s obvious what you’re trying to do, but the difference is you know that he’s aware. Gives you more control over the situation. Easier to deflect and tease.

“I handled finding the transactions detailing the same model number as us. Sun tracked down the person of interest.”

“Huh.” You lean back to sink deeper into the couch. So all those long days of Moon poring over paperwork were spent finding these exact clues.

You frown thoughtfully. “Where did you even find these documents? Sounds like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

That makes the detectives eye each other. Uh oh. It had better not be time for keeping more secrets. You are not in the mood of being left in the dark.

Whatever transpires between the two, they come to a decision, and Moon’s faceplate tilts your way once more. “With Eclipse gone, much of his work has been ruined. But a lot more of that was rattled before, with his gang being taken down in swaths. As I’m sure you know.”

You smirk.

Moon continues. “The disruption put a lot of people out of a job—if you could call being a gang member an occupation. Some were relying on that income heavily. Those who survived or had family members surviving them were desperate for some cash. We brokered a deal with those willing to exchange information… at a cost. None are willing to speak with us face to face for obvious reasons. But they’ve offered several boxes of documents that were destined for the trash but were never properly disposed of before Eclipse’s passing.”

Moon shudders to a halt at that. He looks away unseeingly while rubbing his fingers along the rim of his faceplate. His eyes dim, and you can only imagine what kind of thoughts are going through his head now. You and Sun wait patiently for him to continue, but when he stays silent, the other detective picks up for him.

“We’ve been given no location or anything that could indict any of his gang. But those who were involved are struggling for cash.”

You blink at him. “Detective, I know your job is certainly nothing to laugh at, but that kind of sum of money you’re implying sounds rather… exorbitant.”

“We know,” Sun says, the words sending an odd shiver up your spine.

Moon presses both hands to his head then. Sun remains very still and unfocused as his own dangle limply between his long legs. You’re starting to get the impression that this is a lot more involved than you’d initially expected.

You purse your lips and breathe deeply. It’s a debate over whether this is something you should let go or not. It’s beyond important, and your curiosity will be the death of you, but you want to respect what could be a hard boundary here.

Deciding to wait it out, you fold your hands in your lap and give them time to think. After all this time, he’s still finding ways to hurt your detectives.

Damn you, Eclipse.

“We received a note from the bank teller shortly after Eclipse was gone,” Moon breathes. “Either someone there was still on his payroll or had worked out a deal with him somehow. But we were informed that Eclipse’s monetary fortune, all of it, was transferred to our account.”

“What?” you gasp.

“His possessions are still at his safe houses, I assume. I suspect he didn’t anticipate us receiving those, and given how his gang has been destroyed, those safe houses very well may have been ransacked already.” Moon’s voice trembles. You gape wide-eyed as he adamantly avoids eye contact while speaking. “But he made sure that we received all of his money. It’s effectively cut off the rest of his gang from being paid out anymore.”

“That’s why we thought it best to use Eclipse’s money this way,” Sun says mournfully. “We know we could be just endorsing a worse habit by doing this, but we also know what it’s like to suddenly have nothing. Moon and I believe in justice as well as second chances. The probability of these former gang members taking the money and then just finding another gang to join is high… But the prospect of showing them some kindness that they might not have seen before—along with the hope that they will change for the better—outweighs the bad. At least in this scenario.”

Moon nods and drops his hands from his face. You’ve not seen such a weary expression since the night you all escaped Eclipse. A stone sits in your belly, and your chest constricts from the tightness curling around it. You don’t know what to think. You would sooner make sure no other criminals get to walk free after willingly joining the mafia. But Sun and Moon also have a point. A very difficult point to swallow or refute.

You can see now why they’ve kept this from you.

This almost feels worse than when you’d been a physical punching bag just weeks ago. This feels… dirty.

But who are you to condemn people who were just trying to survive? You’d been in much the same position when under Afton’s tutelage. You’d had no home, and he’d offered you one. How does that compare with the gang members now trying to put food on the table?

You’re no better than them.

Quietly, you reach over and grasp Sun’s hand in yours. His white gaze travels from your interlocked fingers to your face. Your smile is maybe a little more wobbly than usual, but it’s there, and that’s what matters. You then hold out your other hand to Moon and make a grabbing motion. Seconds tick by as his optics dig into you. He might have been designed to not emote, but the grief is rife in every dip and curve and swirl. You wish nothing more to rub it all away.

You make a small noise and continue to beckon him over. Moon’s pupils finally flick down to your hand, and like a timid creature, he unfolds from his place on the floor and walks over to you. He doesn’t say a word as the three of you sit on the couch, but his cool hand slips into yours and holds tight.

The evening trickles on. Words seem next to impossible in the aftermath of what you’ve learned, of what Sun and Moon have apparently been shouldering in the weeks you’ve been in bed. You feel as though you can offer little solace as you are, but you try anyways for them.

“You’ll find his safe houses,” you whisper. “You’ll bring an end to the damage he’s done and find the missing pieces you need to close this case. For good.”

Sun sighs. “We’ll certainly try, love.”

Your head whips so fast, your hair slaps Moon in the face, and he sputters. You don’t spare that any mind at all, eyes popping wide as you gawk at Sun. “Love? Did I hear that right? Have I earned a new pet name?”

The hesitant but warm smile Sun gives you wraps all over your frame and quickens your pulse. “I thought it was fitting. I could choose a different one, if you’d prefer.”

“No!” you say much too quickly, and despite the former mood of the room, Moon gives a very suspiciously timed cough that does little to conceal his choked laugh. You squeeze his hand while knowing it’ll just amuse him further. “No, that’s fine. I mean you can try out different nicknames too, of course. Don’t have to stick with just one. I only meant— Well, it sounds nice, is all. I like it.”

Sun chuckles as your face begins to glow from your rambling. He winks a bright optic. “Alright, your preference has been noted.”

And just like that, you become a little more entrenched in your relationship with the detectives.

The events of that night, as you will come to realize later on, were the first signs you should have noticed.

~~~

The detectives double down on their work in the ensuing days. They’re determined to put this to a rest, and though you’re aware of the kind of confidential documents that could be contained at any of the safe houses—documents that could reveal implicating evidence of other gangs and propel the police department into executing a massive amount of arrests—you also have the sneaking suspicion that this is about more than that.

Sun and Moon have had their metaphorical noses to the ground while trying to wrap this up. There’s less time spent relaxing when they’re home. It’s turning into a fervor as their work follows them at all hours of the day and night. This is the most dogged you’ve seen them in ages.

This isn’t about cutting down crime in the city. This is about closure.

There’s little to be had in the wake of Eclipse’s death. His end was riddled with horror and heartache. Regardless of whatever issues you’re dealing with in your nightmares, it’s nothing when held up against the detectives’. You experience self-loathing every time you wake up with a scream and see one of them hovering over you with immense sadness. They shouldn’t be focused on you at all, and it’s starting to drive you out of your skin at how you’re powerless to do something about it.

The thought of leaving has crossed your mind. At least then they wouldn’t have to handle you like glass and could focus on themselves. But you know they’d still worry regardless.

And where would you even go? You have no more safe houses. You can thank Eclipse for that, which you most certainly will not.

As soon as you’re well enough, you aim to get a place of your own. Can’t have your boys always knowing what you’re up to after all. Part of your allure is your mystery. And you miss the times they’d suspect you were up to no good.

Your bones ache to be back on the streets, fighting crime in your own way.

Tonight, it’s you and Sun in the apartment that’s starting to feel a little claustrophobic. He’s still hard at work, but you’ve managed to at least sneak onto his lap sideways. His arm supports your back while his other hand leafs through more records.

You wiggle your toes and dig them into the arm of the couch with a ragged exhale.

Sun’s head tilts above you. “What’s wrong?”

You flop the back of your hand dramatically over your forehead and groan petulantly. Your weight sags against his arm, and he doesn’t even flinch from the extra pressure.

“I’m so bored,” you bemoan.

A slight tut is the response you get. You peek at him and find he hasn’t looked away from his work. Darn.

“Am I supposed to take that as a hint somehow?”

Yes.

You can think of a few ways he could take that hint.

“You’re always so busy lately,” you say, lifting your hand from your head to fiddle with his tie instead.

Sun offers another noncommittal sound. You want to kick in frustration but unfortunately know exactly how he’d react to that kind of attitude. The animatronic is in some ways an equal match for your stubbornness.

You’ve got to finesse him into giving you the attention you need.

You tug tauntingly on his tie, but he doesn’t even react. Ugh.

There’s no mistaking the amusement in his voice when he finally answers after several more tugs. “I thought you said you hope we wrap up this case. Isn’t this what you want?”

“I want you to kiss me,” you mutter grouchily.

Well, that seems to have the intended effect you’re searching for because he sets down the paper in his hand with a very overdramatized huff and at last stares down at you. Unflinching, you furrow your brow and maybe push out your bottom lip just a bit, but you’re not pouting. There’s a very clear difference here.

Sun’s blue eyes watch you evenly, and you hold out hope for maybe getting your way.

“What am I to do with you,” he scolds.

You smile coquettishly. “I think you can figure that one out.”

“Hmm.” Sun leans closer, and on impulse, your heartbeat kicks up. His arm is warm at your back, and his fingers draw slow, teasing shapes along the sliver of bare skin at your waist where your shirt has ridden up.

You are not a ticklish person by any means, but that doesn’t stop your body from suddenly deciding it’s time to change that.

Sun clearly relishes watching you try not to squirm. His grin takes on a different light, gleaming with mischief. “Sensitive?”

You swallow. “No…”

“I don’t know about that,” he murmurs, and he’s now close enough that it wouldn’t take much at all for him to kiss you.

Your hands are wringing his tie and vest, which you only notice a little too late. This whole being off your game is starting to get a little old. What happened to you flustering your detectives? This isn’t how it’s supposed to go, but you’re slipping. Badly.

So maybe you are enjoying it in the moment, but that doesn’t excuse the persistent warmth you can feel in your cheeks. Has the apartment always been this hot?

Sun gently pries one of your hands off his front and then presses the tips of your fingers feather-light to his teeth. He stares at you all the while. You feel like you’re going to melt.

The second he lets go, you reclaim your hold on his tie and yank him close. Sun laughs into the kiss, but his grin against your lips feels far too good for you to voice a complaint, so you let him have this one. You kiss him deeply, uttering a soft moan of happiness when his hand shifts from your waist to cradling the back of your head. His other hand plants firmly against the couch on the other side of your head.

When he pulls back, his eyes slip open just a crack, heavy with delight. His rays cut the air, and you stifle a laugh at the telling reaction. Yeah, you expected that he’d enjoy it.

You smile at him and follow the swirl at his cheek with your thumb. Sun giggles lightly, and you follow suit.

“How was that?” he asks, playful.

You briefly look up to the ceiling like you’re pondering a deep philosophical question. “Hard to say, really. It was over so quick, I’m just not sure I can say how it felt.” You give him an innocent once-over. “Guess we’d have to try again to make sure.”

Sun’s laughter is melodic. You grin cheekily, and he returns the favor of you exploring his face by mapping the curve of your own. “Well, we can’t accept inconclusive results. I have to be very thorough in my work as a detective, you know. It’d be very bad press if I didn’t have a straight answer.”

“Better hurry up before your case goes cold then.”

Sun taps the tip of your nose once. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

With the speed and deadliness of a thunderclap, your heart drops. Between one instant and the next, it’s not Sun holding you in his lap. It’s not Sun pinning you under his gaze. Your mouth parts, and your lips quiver.

“W-what… What did you—”

At your sharp, shell-shocked expression, Sun pauses with a frown, confused. His pupils vanish while alarm fills his white eyes. “What? Is something wrong?”

You can’t breathe. You need room.

“Please let me go,” you hear yourself say, and Sun releases you right away.

Unfortunately, that means your back bounces on the couch, which does very little good for injuries, but you don’t care. You need space, you need a weapon, you need anything to protect yourself.

Your name is called in a rasp of air, and you scramble off the couch to put distance between you and whatever is haunting you.

This is where it happened last time too. A figment of your imagination, your night terrors following you into the day. You stumble a few steps away, wild and disoriented. Sun gapes and appears at the ready to push himself from the couch, but the slightest movement has you shrinking back, so he stops in place.

He says your name again, and it sounds broken and hurt. You’re not aware of how violently you’re trembling until you grip the edge of a nearby desk to steady yourself. Like a frightened animal. You’re treating Sun like he’d hurt you, but he’s done nothing to deserve that reaction, so why—

Sun moves again, and you don’t flinch this time, but you studiously watch him, waiting for that awful vision to come back. Your hand slips to your hip where your gun would be if you’d kept it on you.

But you don’t have it now, and you shouldn’t need it because this is a safe place. No one will hurt you here, and you repeat that thought to yourself over and over like a mantra until your pounding heart starts to believe it too.

In a calming gesture, Sun holds up his hands and keeps every motion small as he approaches in incredibly little steps. You keep him in your sight at all times. He stops a short distance from you but hunched over as if to curl in on himself and make you feel taller.

You feel like grabbing your head and shaking it until the panic falls out.

What is wrong with you? Why such an overreaction to Sun? Why such strangling fear like he’s someone else?

He didn’t do anything to you. He didn’t say anything to hurt you. He only said…

He only said.

A sedate clarity oozes past your irrational distress. Without your consent, a rush of flashbulb memories illuminate the source of your emotional state.

A face-to-face gunfight that should end in your death but leads to you gaining something much worse. A shadow following your every step for days that bleed into weeks that bleed into months. A deal agreed upon between you and your shadow to save your detective’s life. A desperate attempt to hide only to be found and dragged along right before your shadow’s hungry ogling. A battle between wits, a payment of no small favor, an endless stretch of time locked away like a bird in a cage. A car ride to your fate, a refusal to abide by the shadow’s rules, an almost fatal getaway. A dark rescue in an alley, a demand for you to heel, a desperate play that almost costs you, a temporary escape.

The final attempt to fly to freedom only to be caught again. Your ultimatum to take his life in your hands or burn with him.

All of them center around one entity whose cruel obsession was backed by hissed promises threaded together in a single word.

Sweetheart.

It tumbles raggedly from your lips. Sun’s gaze remains imploring, and his head tilts at your voice.

“What do you need?” he says softly.

You manage to swallow the dryness in your throat. It feels tight, phantom hands sealing it shut.

“Please don’t call me that,” you force yourself to say. It’s whisper-quiet. “Don’t call me sweetheart.”

Thankfully, you don’t need to say why. The much-delayed understanding overtakes Sun’s face now. You hate that he knows. There shouldn’t need to be anything for him to have to realize. This shouldn’t be a problem.

He nods. Ever so patient, he holds his hand out, palm up, an offering. Your hands shake with the rest of you, but you force your panic to shove off so that you can at least have this. Your fingers glide across his palm, and like he’s cupping something precious, Sun curls his own around yours.

“Alright,” he says. His white eyes don’t move as he keeps watch over you, and like a broken record, you fall into his embrace yet again. “I apologize. I won’t ever say it again.”

You don’t have the strength to find your voice after that, but you do snag fistfuls of his shirt and vest and hang on for dear life. Sun, blessedly, doesn’t say another word about it, and he rubs a warm hand at your back.

Neither of you breathe a mention of it to Moon later. It’s not a secret, but it doesn’t bear repeating.

As you lay in bed that night, you wonder why the pet name even crossed Sun’s mind.

~~~

Three days later, Moon and Sun have a location pinned down. It’s a residence roughly 30 minutes from the precinct, which correlates with what you can remember from your ride there. You don’t ask for the details of the questioning they’ve done in that time, but you can tell from their slouches that it’s been rough.

You’ve also been a bit tentative around Sun. He’s treating you much the same, but his is out of concern for your well-being, and yours is out of fear of seeing a ghost. You despise this irrationality that’s bloomed out of nowhere. This never used to be a problem. You never used to look at Sun and see Eclipse. The correlation just wasn’t there.

But ever since that fateful day in your safe house weeks ago, the similarities have begun to blend into one image. You look at Sun and see a dark shadow over his stare. You watch Sun moving around in the apartment, and your heart leaps into your throat as you imagine his footsteps are much heavier. You listen to Sun speak, and his voice glitches out and snarls with static in your hallucinations.

This may be a problem greater than you’d envisioned.

But you’ve been thinking hard during the time you’ve been under unofficial house arrest. Maybe the reason Eclipse’s ghost lingers is because his very core is nestled in Sun. Maybe you’re hearing and seeing things because you were the one who ripped it out of the mob boss’ chassis. Maybe if you hadn’t been the one to kill him, you wouldn’t be under this amount of stress.

Maybe you’re just going insane.

All possibilities that are better swept under the rug. You don’t have time to worry, so you decide not to. If you can fake being okay hard enough, your inner demons will have to eventually give up. Eclipse can’t haunt you forever.

That’s why you’re particularly insistent in joining the detectives on their trip.

“Absolutely not,” Moon says without hesitation.

He doesn’t even have the decency to look at you as he dons his coat. You’re more than a little irritated.

“Why? I have just as much reason to go as you do. And what if something bad happens?”

“The risk of something bad happening is exactly the reason you’re not going.” Moon tucks his gun into his holster and aims a pointed, red glare your way.

You are unfazed.

“I know I’m not quite back at my level best yet, but you really need to give me some more credit,” you retort, fists clenching at your sides. Your anger longs to surge up to give you some sort of emotional outlet after all this toil you’ve had to endure. Instead, you inhale very deeply and try to clear your thoughts.

“I’m not saying you aren’t good at what you do,” Moon says. There’s a little less frustration in his tone in the wake of your outburst. “Sun and I know you’re more than capable of handling yourself. But you are still healing, and I won’t make a rash decision just to please you.”

Your eyes slide closed, the beginnings of a headache forming. “Detective…”

A hand brushes against your chin. Moon tilts your head up, and you tiredly open your eyes again. His optics yield no signs of wavering. Your exhaustion feels insurmountable.

“We just got you back after nearly losing you,” he murmurs. “I can’t risk that again. I need to know you’re safe.”

“But how can I be sure of the same for you?” you press. “How will I know if you and Sun are okay?”

Moon leans in and presses a light kiss to your cheek. Your chest shudders around a breath, and for some strange reason, there’s a burning sensation when you blink, like you might cry. Those nightmares and hallucinations really are doing a number on you after all.

Caressing your hair, Moon says, “I’ve noticed how little sleep you’ve been getting. Please try to rest tonight. When you wake up, I promise we’ll be back.”

You stand there with him, nothing but the sound of the clock ticking and his servos humming. It has no reason feeling like a more permanent goodbye, yet everything within you shakes like it is. You’re starting to come to the acceptance that you’re not okay.

The instant his hand begins to leave your head, you quickly snatch it between your own.

Your lips press against his knuckles. You plead with your eyes for him to change his mind. The snapping threads of your hold on reality are almost gone.

You deserve this, but you can’t bear it.

“Please, Moon…”

The lunar animatronic gives a pained, static exhale. He gently squeezes your hand and then pulls free. Your arms drop back to your sides.

“Rest. We’ll be back soon.”

He walks away, and as you furiously blink back stupid tears, you notice that Sun has been watching your interaction all the while. You know intimately well that no matter how hard you attempt to reason with him, he’ll take Moon’s side. They work well together for a reason.

There’s a hollowness in his expression that wasn’t there before. It��s manifested ever since your incident with him, darkening his disposition. Yet another thing you can blame yourself for.

If you were out there with them and not stuck here, you could stop being deadweight.

Sun steps forward cautiously, once again walking on eggshells. You, however, throw caution to the wind and close the distance between you, wrapping him in a hug. He startles but is quick to recover. Sun holds you close, and you feel his faceplate tap the top of your head in a kiss.

With your face smooshed against his front, you mutter, “You’d better bring me back a cool trinket.”

Your companion snorts. “How does dinner sound instead?”

You consider. It doesn’t have a single bit of an appeal. But you don’t want them to think that yet another thing is broken with you.

Adding a haughty spin to your voice to conceal your true thoughts, you say, “Moving so quickly in our relationship already by getting me dinner? Detective, that’s so forward of you. I’m proud.”

Sun attempts a laugh, and you lean back just enough to see his grin. There’s your solar sleuth. A smile of your own emerges as Sun starts to play with your hair like Moon had done.

“We might get back late, but I’m sure we could still find someplace that’s open. Do you have a preference?”

It’d be so amusing to see his reaction if you said you’d like a bite of him, but you don’t think he’s ready for that kind of teasing just yet. That’s the advanced stuff. You’re having fun just playing on the beginner level with him.

But the thought of food just doesn’t sit well in your stomach at all. It churns unpleasantly, so you shrug. “Surprise me.”

Sun twirls your hair between his fingers for just a little longer. He’s likely holding up himself and Moon, but he’s choosing to give you these few moments. In what feels like the first time in forever, your sense of paranoia takes a backseat. With it no longer driving your every thought, you enjoy the reprieve and the simple peace you share with the detective.

All too soon, it comes to an end.

“Sun,” Moon calls, and you groan pitifully.

What you wouldn’t give to be snug under the blankets with them once again. Forget raiding dangerous safe houses probably laden with booby traps and tacky decor. You all should take a nap instead.

“Coming,” Sun says, and he stops playing with your hair to your dismay. “Like Moon said, we likely won’t be gone long. We’re going to play it safe, and if it looks like we might need backup, we’ll keep our distance.”

The air rushes out of your chest loudly. “I suppose I’ll just have to accept that.”

Sun’s hands frame your cheeks, and you return the kiss he presses to your lips. Not for the first time, you think about how unfair this is.

“Don’t stay up too late,” Sun adds against your lips. He’s bent so close that you almost think he’s using you to hide from Moon, who is impatiently waiting at the door. You’d like to see him try to pull that one off.

You offer a vague assent, and when you look into Sun’s optics, you swear you see golden pupils behind a black backdrop dancing in your vision.

Keep it together.

You quickly glance away and break free of the hug with a rough clearing of your throat. You do your best to dispel the image from your mind. The detectives are probably right that you need rest, but it’s a little hard when your nightmares become like tangible memories. Though if you’re seeing things at any point during the day, you can see the reasoning in sitting this one out.

Moon taps a foot. His attention snaps back to you, but you’re already brushing off the vision and smiling sweetly. His gaze turns suspicious, and you chuckle, pleased.

He wags a finger at you. “Go to bed. I expect you to get a few hours while we’re gone.”

“Yes, dear,” you sigh.

Moon rolls his eyes, and Sun lets out a puff of air. The pair of the city’s finest detectives open the door to their apartment and cast one last insistent look over their shoulders.

Stay put. Got it.

You offer a little wave, and they close the door behind them.

With both of them gone and the apartment to yourself, you struggle to keep the pieces of you glued together. They told you to sleep, and you will—or you’ll at least try. But first you just want to catch your breath.

The window grants a wonderful view of the city, but you want the full experience. As you slip out of the apartment, pins tucked into your sleeves, you ascend the stairs and head for the rooftop to see if that will help clear your mind.

~~~

To your immense relief, your detectives return later that night as promised, unharmed and well. You don’t know what you were expecting when they came back, but you’re surprised and relieved that their spirits seem lighter. Whatever they found at the safe house, it was what they’d subconsciously been searching for. It’s the first time in weeks they seem genuinely at ease. Your heart floods with warmth.

They offer more promises that they will fill you in on the details in the morning. You press that it is morning, albeit the very early hours. Neither of them are amused by this, and you’re forced to sit down and sulk through a few bites of Italian meatballs that they’d bought at a restaurant still open.

From there, it’s a quick trip to the bed. You try another stubborn, valiant attempt to pry about what went down tonight but are met with a wall of stony resistance that doesn’t falter once in the twenty-minute argument. It’s another brutal defeat, and your ego definitely takes a beating. You know that you’d be able to get your way if you just tried harder.

But then Sun lifts you into his arms and slips you under the covers so fluidly that you’re left blinking at what just happened. Just as fast, Moon presses up against your back, and Sun curves around your front, and as the last, finishing touch, both animatronics drape an arm over you.

You’re almost aghast at how they’ve used your greatest weakness against you: themselves. The last time all three of you had any chance to rest in bed together was prior to them jumping back into work. Loathe as you are to admit it now, especially when it’s being used as a clever tool to distract you, this is something you’ve more than missed.

It feels safe. It feels like home. You already know that when you drift off to sleep tonight, your dreams won’t touch you.

Begrudgingly, you tick yet another point on the detectives’ side of the scoreboard.

Despite your grumbling, not long after you’re sandwiched between your boys, you fall into a deep sleep that is disjointed and incoherent, but true to your prediction, the nightmares are kept at bay.

When you start to awaken to the sunlight streaming into the room, you yawn and stretch languidly. If this is the kind of sleep you can get with both detectives warming the bed, then you’ll gladly take it. For once, you don’t feel burdened by insomnia. All that’s there is a restlessness to be briefed on last night’s events.

Fighting the temptation to slip back into your dreams is a chore, but you want to get a sneak peek at Sun and Moon in hopes of catching one of them in their own version of sleep.

Releasing another yawn, you slowly invite feeling to seep back into your limbs aside from the loose, warm relaxation. A soft sound in front of you coaxes you to alertness, and you ready a “good morning” on your tongue. You rub sleep from your eyes and greet the day with the sight of Sun lying before you.

Black optics and thin yellow pupils shine like poison inches away.

Your breath stabs out all at once.

Like you’ve been encased in ice, your body doesn’t move an inch. But that’s okay because this is nothing new. You’re not used to it, but there’s no need for alarm. You just need to give it a second, and then the hallucination can go away, and you can see Sun again, and you’ll pretend like you always do that nothing is out of the ordinary. All you need is to just give it a moment and let your vision clear and—

Why isn’t it going away?

You tremble under the probing gaze that regards first your stricken face and then the bare length of your neck. It’s strong enough that you swear you feel fingers of steel clamping around it, cutting off oxygen that you can’t even find now. The subject of your nightmares drags his heavy leer back up your healed skin, and as he stares into your wide eyes, his grin gleams with sharp teeth.

You’re locked in a living night terror, and the devil has come to collect his due. Your blood rushes in your ears as you sit like a deer caught in headlights, awaiting a roaring fate.

Then you blink, and the image is gone.

It’s replaced by Sun, who’s worriedly saying your name. His blue pupils are a violent contrast to the razor-thin yellow. Once you’re certain the devil is gone, you gasp for air profusely. You’re thoroughly undone, and just like all the times before, you shudder unstoppably. You think you might be on the verge of seeing stars, and that’s when Moon tugs you into his lap, and you bury your face in his shoulder. He rocks you in place on the bed as you try to remember how to be human, how to breathe.

Sun is silent and stiff in place. You wish you had the willpower to reassure him that this isn’t his fault. What comes out of your mouth is broken and scrambled in a wheeze.

“I thought— I-I thought I saw…”

You can’t say it. Moon and Sun don’t ask you to clarify.

You should have seen the signs. You should have paid more attention.

It’s easier to write things off though. Pretend something was a silly coincidence or unfortunate error and then stash it in the closet with the other skeletons. If you don’t face your fears, you won’t have to acknowledge them.

Unfortunately, your panic attack is the straw that breaks the camel's back. You’ve kept a tight lid on your emotions up until this point.

Moon doesn’t let go while he continues to rock you like a child. Children need this kind of comfort—not you. You suddenly feel very small and lost, your hand clinging to gloved fingers as you’re led away from freedom by a man in a plum suit.

Moon’s voice tugs you from the pit of remembrance before you can sink deeper.

“Please tell us what’s going on. We can’t help you if we don’t know how.”

You shake your head. No, you won’t concern them with this. You are fine.

There’s a sly, hateful voice that constricts around your mind and croons that you aren’t. You haven’t been for a long time. That’s why they’ve noticed. If you’d just been able to keep it together, no one would have been the wiser.

To add insult to injury, the voice sounds like Eclipse. Maybe that is what clues you in to why you’re resisting so much.

Yes, you’ve been staunch in your belief that this is not an issue and can be dealt with on your own in time. You’ve lived on the streets and clawed your way out of the muck and learned to take care of yourself. You’re independent and strong, and that is what’s kept you alive and sturdy. And under all that rests a foundation that relates far too much to what Eclipse must have seen for himself.

You are prideful. You don’t want to let anyone see you as weak.

It’s this self-serving pride that has prevented you from reaching out for help. Even ignoring all other contributing factors to the pain you’ve felt, you have let your pride get in the way of any rational thought. You’ve been so absorbed in shoveling your issues down the drain that it’s starting to overflow and bubble out all the dirty baggage. In doing what you can to hide, you’ve created the very havoc you were trying to avoid.

That kind of awareness doesn’t strike gently.

Here, the detectives have given of themselves to share benevolence, empathy, and generosity with you. They’ve proven time and time again that they will fight for their lives to protect you, no matter if it puts them in harm’s way. How can they expect to trust you when you just continue to lie, not just to them but yourself as well? Surely, they deserve more than what you can give them.

That’s why it’s important that you start sharing a little of yourself too. You know as your chest rises and falls with each breath, forbidden words coming to the surface, that this is what needs to be done. Your ribs scream in protest like your heart is going to push right out of them.

“My nightmares are becoming more and more real,” you force out around a raw voice. It feels wrong to admit this aloud, but you’re desperate. You can’t lift this burden on your own shoulders anymore. The next inhale you take crawls down your throat like sand, and your mouth is the very desert. “I don’t know how to stop it. It follows me at all times, every day. No matter where I look, I see him…” Your eyes lift to Sun. “…In you.”

Sun’s face doesn’t change as he listens keenly. But you can’t help but think you’re only hurting him more in admitting this.

The detectives are quiet. They shouldn’t have to sit through your problems about seeing ghosts—Sun especially. They’re not your therapists, and you’d never expect as much from them. Aren’t they already weary enough from their own mourning? Aren’t they tired of your issues constantly stepping into the light and taking center stage?

Maybe you don’t know them as well as you’d thought. You know they won’t force you to share your demons, but they also won’t let this go. You’re sitting on a ticking time bomb, and sooner or later, they will find a way to ease you into telling them the truth.

Better to rip off the bandaid now and get it over with.

“I’m sure this is all just a silly case of little sleep,” you remark with a flat laugh and deprecating shake of your head.

“You’d be surprised,” Moon says then, and he isn’t mocking or angry at all like you’d expected. “Sleep deprivation is a powerful weapon. We’ve seen officers with too little sleep shoot at things that aren’t there.”

You frown. This seems a little less severe than what Moon is talking about. You’re not in any active danger, so you shouldn’t get to be grouped in with those who often are.

“I don’t think it’s that bad—”

“You just kicked at Sun like he was an intruder in your bed. If you’re experiencing strong enough hallucinations to not see someone you’d normally trust, then it is just as bad.”

Moon’s tone is gruff, but not harsh or reprimanding. If you didn’t know any better, you’d assume he was frustrated on your behalf.

Sun hasn’t said anything in all this, so you’re surprised when he voices his thoughts.

“Please don’t feel like you have to hide this from us,” he implores, sorrow entwined with his words. “We care for you—deeply. You don’t have to hide your own pain from us. Regardless of what you may think or what your nightmares might be telling you, we want to help. And you will never be a burden to Moon or me by sharing what’s hurting you. We’ll help you through this too, if you’ll let us.”

Responding to that in any cohesive way that doesn’t result in you breaking down into stunned tears is improbable. You’re enshrouded in emotion so thick, it hangs over you like a plush blanket. It’s intense to the point of being unbearable, but you don’t shy from it. You’re surrounded by the weight of Sun’s words, but you aren’t suffocating.

It’s just a lot to hear him say that. There’s nothing intelligible that comes to mind in response.

Luckily, you don’t get a chance to eek out another sound. There’s a knock at the door, and all three of you stiffen.

Moon huffs in annoyance before he begins to shift. “I’ll get it.”

“No, stay here with them,” Sun says, nodding to how you’re still folded up in Moon’s lap. “I’ll be right back.”

He steps out of the room, and you hear him answer the door a moment later. You can’t make out the voices, but given there’s no gunshots ringing through the air, it’s likely nothing serious.

A shootout might actually be preferable now, you dismally think. The day has barely started, and it’s already miserable. You’d love for some action to throw yourself into. Return to your work as a vigilante and break up some mob dealings. Maybe put some fear into another crooked politician.

As if sensing your thoughts, Moon tilts your head up to look at him. His red gaze glints without the brim of his hat to shield over them, and the displeased squint of them as the sunlight hits him reminds you of a cat.

He says something, and you’re a little slow to hear it or respond.

“What?” you say with full intelligence.

Calmly, he repeats himself. “Do you want us to stay out of your room while you sleep?”

Another unusual lull passes between you. You stare owlishly at him as if that will help make more sense of things. “Why on earth would I want that?”

“You’re more vulnerable in your sleep. Perhaps there’s some subconscious element that recognizes you’re not alone in bed. If we give you some space, maybe that will help with your nightmares, both waking and in sleep.”

You’re already shaking your head before he finishes. No, you don’t like the sound of that at all. Just because you’re seeing a ghost in Sun around every corner doesn’t mean you want to be alone. You’d much rather continue on as if nothing is wrong at all. Eclipse doesn’t get to take this away from you too.

The detective grunts at your immediate refusal, but he doesn’t punt you out of his lap right away, so that’s a plus.

“Just think about it,” he urges.

You give an exaggerated hum. “Mm, okay, I thought about it.”

You sniffle a bit and manage a smile at the exasperated heave of your name from the detective. Like a couple of puzzle pieces, you secure yourself further in his embrace by snuggling a little closer to him. For an animatronic, he has a rather cozy lap, and you intend to make full use of it. Your head rests on his shoulder, a quiet breath expelling from your lips. Your eyelids lower when Moon tucks you just a little more against his chassis.

You’re drifting off when you remember that you still haven’t learned of what the detectives found in their search. That conversation has been reasonably derailed, and your thirst for information is infinite. But you decide you can wait a little longer for now. Your boys aren’t going anywhere you can’t follow after all.

Sometime later, you almost don’t hear Sun return to the guest room. He sinks lightly on the mattress, and you almost flinch but just manage to hold it back.

Softer than a whisper, he says, “I really don’t want to leave you now, especially with how you’re feeling, but…”

You crack open an eye and wryly smirk at him. “Detective Sun, are you trying to use me to get out of work today?”

You’re more than glad at the eye roll that garners. It’s better this way. Less intense.

The solar detective still hesitates, and he shifts his deep blue pupils from you to his brother. “Will you be—”

“Of course,” Moon answers before he can finish. His arms are secure around you. “I’ll make sure they stay out of trouble. Go fight some crime.”

Sun snickers, and you offer him a balmy smile. You lean forward, and uncertainty flashes in his expression, but you don’t stop until you give him a quick kiss. For good measure, he reciprocates by adding a second one to the tip of your nose. There. This is how your interactions should be. Just simple, mindless bliss.

The detective stands and heads over to the room where he and Moon store their clothes. You listen to him get dressed for the day while you rub your cheek against the soft material of Moon’s shirt. Falling asleep is swiftly getting kicked up on your list of priorities. Your stomach has other plans though and lets out a traitorous growl.

Moon is lifting you off his lap in a blink despite your petulant groan.

“C’mon. Up. Come eat breakfast.”

You flop onto bed, not a single ounce of intent to get out. “We don’t have anything. You haven’t gone grocery shopping for my dumb human needs,” you sourly snap into a pillow.

You yelp when hands latch around your ankles and yank you down to the edge of the bed. Shocked, you twist on your side and gape at Moon and his audacity. He stares back, unyielding.

“We have leftover meatballs. You can have those. Up.”

You consider the pros and cons of refusing further, but when Moon’s glare hardens, you know you won’t win this one.

You make sure that every bite of your meatball breakfast is joined by a loud and aggressive chomp on your fork as Moon sits across from you and watches.

~~~

Sun returns early in the evening from a day of work, and despite the unpleasant circumstances that have been surrounding you two, you’re happy to have him home. He’s equally as pleased and offers more dinner in a way that you’re pretty sure is a bribe. You let him have his way regardless, and Sun proudly presents the salad he brought home for you.

As you munch away, Moon prepares to begin his own nightly duties. Before he can step out the door, you make sure to snag his shirt and draw him into a kiss while your mouth is still full of lettuce. Moon makes an exaggerated sound of disgust, but as he scrubs at his teeth afterwards, you can see his grin widening. Mission accomplished.

With one detective exchanged for another, you decide to do your utmost to enjoy your time with Sun. No matter what he says about sharing burdens, you don’t want to dwell on any of it tonight. You want to enjoy your time with him. You want to enjoy him.

As such, after dinner and in an obvious ploy to reestablish some normalcy, you play through an assortment of card games and learn just how competitive he is. You win and lose several rounds of Twenty-One, War, Slapjack, and Gin. Sun turns out to be a formidable opponent, and more than once you eye him suspiciously, wondering if he’s got an extra card up his sleeve. He catches you staring each time and winks, partnered with a sly “Better try harder next time, love,” so much so that you’re fuming by your fourth loss.

The banter and snide remarks are all for show between you both. What makes it much sweeter is the fact that Sun remains as you know him all through it. You don’t see any changes in his eyes, you don’t hear any daunting words. It’s just your detective, and you think to yourself more than once, “There he is.”

You also think about asking yet again about the raid.

Sun’s coy laughter as he shows off another winning hand stills your tongue. You can wait. You have time. This is more important.

After finally winning a few rounds yourself, you lean back on your hands and give him a crooked smile. “I’d say I won between the two of us tonight.”

Sun’s snort lets you know exactly what he thinks about that, and you raise an eyebrow. His hands expertly shuffle the cards in a mesmerizing show that displays his familiarity with a deck.

“If you want to lie to yourself, by all means, be my guest,” he says.

“Funny,” you comment with a frown.

“Why, thank you!”

You’re beginning to understand a fraction of what the detectives usually put up with from you.

Sitting back up, you rest your forearms on the coffee table, watching him neatly tuck the cards back into their case. A thought occurs to you out of the blue.

“So who was at the door earlier today?”

Sun glances up. “When? You mean this morning?”

At your nod, he says much as you expect. “That was just the mailman.”

Figures. You saw the small pile of envelopes on the countertop already. Nothing exciting as usual.

But then Sun looks to the clock. “That reminds me actually. I signed for a package but had to drop it off in another unit Moon and I have been renting for more official police storage. Considering how crowded it’s gotten here, we’ve been needing the extra space. I should go check to see if everything’s all there that I ordered. Strange, but I can’t really recall what it is that came in...”

Well, that sure is news to you.

Bypassing the already absurd fact that Sun forgot something, you deadpan, “You mean you’ve been renting another apartment here this whole time just for storage?”

Sun turns a bit sheepish. “Yes? To be completely honest, we originally figured it would be a better idea than leaving important boxes of information and evidence at our offices. And we knew this place wasn’t exactly safe from intruders.”

“You mean me.”

You’re offered a winning smile. “Worked just fine against you, didn’t it?”

You scowl, not liking being given the slip so easily. This whole time you thought you’d gone through all the top-secret information the detectives had locked away. Turns out they’d read you perfectly and taken precautions that they deemed necessary.

Your fingers are already itching for a pin.

“Well, now your secret is out, darling,” you tsk. “I know that there’s a treasure trove of information just waiting for me nearby.”

Sun shakes his head. “We trust you now. It was different back then. I’m sure you understand.”

“Uh huh.” Oh, you’re so breaking into that room when you get the chance.

“Plus, we knew Eclipse could get his hands on anything in our apartment at the time if he really wanted. And even before we were aware that some of the officers were working for him, we still didn’t feel safe keeping some things at our desks. Your file was one of them.”

Something in you loosens and falters at that. Like a crack in your shield. A chink in your armor.

Because you’re struck with a very unexpected fact.

They’ve been protecting you this whole time. Long before Eclipse shared your past with them. Long before you were concerned about them being able to dig up that information. Possibly before you had ever even met them face to face as the vigilante.

You’re unmoving as you process that, and Sun has the kindness to not push. He merely adds, “And since you’ll be occupying the guest room for the much foreseeable future, we’ve been using the other unit to shift a lot of boxes and belongings into that space. So it’s not an ideal solution, but we’ve been making it work.”

You can hear the “for you” loud and clear. This would be a good point to deflect with something witty or coy, but Sun has been proving to excel at sneaking past your defenses and stealing any words right from your mouth—often with his own, but that’s neither here nor there.

You’re really starting to wonder how you lucked out like this. Potential trauma aside, this could be the definition of paradise. You just need to get a better handle on things, and you’ll be set.

After a long lull between you, Sun rises to his feet. “I’m going to go check on that package, and then I’ll be right back. Hang tight, sweet— Ah. Love. I mean love.”

You don’t have a second to dissect the once-again near-disastrous slip-up as Sun stiffly hurries out the door. Maybe it’s a good thing that Sun leaves as quickly as he does because it doesn’t give you the chance to feel the hairs stick up on your neck or a cold sweat of fear to cling to you as it so often has lately.

But that was odd. Very, very odd. It’s not like Sun to trip over his words like that. Especially one so important. And it’s not like him to just blank on certain things either. You determine to interrogate him about that when he gets back because there’s no way you’re letting anything swim by that smells the slightest bit fishy.

Left in the descending silence of the apartment, you consider following after Sun but ultimately decide against it. Either he’ll show you when he’s ready or you’ll make a fun night of guessing which extra unit is the detectives’ and do what you do best.

So while you wait for Sun to return, you fall back on your old, favorite habit of snooping. There’s little in this apartment that you haven’t seen, having already done a rather fantastic job of scoping it out in the weeks you’ve been resting. But you don’t like being left alone with your thoughts. Finding things to snag your attention is becoming more and more welcome. You set about checking first the living room, and when that yields no fun results, you turn to the kitchen.

Like Sun said, the mail has already been delivered, and while you lazily flick through the envelopes, you don’t bother opening any. You do have some decency after all. For your own amusement, you peruse the electric refrigerator and wrinkle your nose at a container of fresh strawberries on the shelf. Where did those come from? You haven’t eaten any even once in front of the detectives, and you’ve avoided them like the plague since Eclipse.

Time to redirect your thoughts. There’s little else to note in the fridge, so you move on.

Switching to the cabinets, you note the newly added plates and cups with a soft touch to your chest and then start opening and closing drawers.

You know there’s one drawer that’s always locked, which contains any particularly important documents the detectives don’t want to lose. You’ve seen all of them already, of course, but it doesn’t hurt to read through them again.

With just a pin and a few seconds, you unlock the drawer and peer inside. To your small shock, there are a couple of new things in there, or some things that you don’t recall being there before.

The first is a brass bell. It rings lightly as it rolls when you open the drawer and then comes to a stop. It’s bigger than the ones you hold so dear, and though you can’t shake the thought of where this might have come from, you don’t want to let your mind go down that path.

So you turn to the other new item that looks less foreboding. You pull the folded paper out like a magpie collecting a shiny new toy and shake off the flash of trepidation. A bit eager at having something extra to learn about your detectives, you scan the contents.

It’s dated today and appears to be a receipt of purchase and confirmation of delivery that you muse must have been from earlier this morning when Sun answered the door. You’re drawn to his looping signature that contains an impressive amount of calligraphy for just three letters. You smile and shake your head at that. Then you glance over the order as curiosity blossoms, and with a hum, you recognize the model number that you’d memorized when Sun had shown it to you days ago. It looks like this is a receipt for spare parts, and it’s no small amount of relief to know that your detectives are looking after themselves and taking precautions.

You quickly glance through the document as you think you hear Sun’s footsteps from down the hall. He probably wouldn’t mind you so obviously snooping for something this mundane, but you like to act like you haven’t completely lost your sneaky touch.

Your face lights up when you see that a celestial wire is on the list of items purchased. Good. They have a backup in case they need it. Unconsciously, you follow the dotted line next to it, and low puzzlement creeps in when you see that only one was ordered. One is definitely better than none, but after the harrowing experiences you’ve been through to patch up your detectives, it seems like they should at least have two on hand.

Brow furrowing, you take as quick of a closer look at the rest of the list as you can.

It’s a very extensive list, wires and parts that you wouldn’t know where they should go if your life depended on it. But then as you continue reading, you see more and more unusual items, including casings for a pair of arms and legs and all the necessary components to make them functional. There’s an entire section just for the chassis that makes your expression glaze over a bit from trying to understand it.

And finally, you reach the section labeled for the faceplate.

Immediately, two things stick out to you. The first is the eyes. They’re described in small print that says, “One set of optics: two-tone. Integrated with simulated behavior for automatic adjustment. Color swap for eyes and pupils between yellow and black.”

Your hands start to tremble.

The other thing you notice—that you can’t help but hastily search for with the paramount urgency that it not be there—is the subsection about the sun rays.

Clear as day, it tells you all you need to know, describing in short detail the elongated spikes that will adorn the faceplate. A vast assortment that will consist of dark purples and navy blues.

With horror sinking its meaty claws into your flesh, you at last find the final piece of evidence that cements your fear. At the topmost left-hand corner, the bold text confirms the model number applies not just to a few items, but is in fact for the purchase of a fully-assembled animatronic body, equipped with a celestial motif bearing the unique likeness that belongs to Sun and Moon.

And the ghostly figure of Eclipse.

You have to tear your gaze from the paper. The words are smearing together, and a wave of dread and nausea renders them indistinguishable to you. There’s a bit of color in the corner of your vision that catches your attention instead, and as you look back in the open drawer, you spy a small coil of ribbon that had been under the paper.

It’s burgundy.

A noise at the door startles you so violently, you whip around and see Sun standing there, staring at you in confusion. Your pulse rabbits away as you pant, and the feeling of being trapped surges powerfully within you. You can’t think straight as you will Sun to not turn into the monster haunting you.

His blue pupils fall from your face to the paper in your hands.

You drop the document and bolt, racing deeper into the apartment. Sun cries out after you, but you don’t turn back. There isn’t anywhere to go, but you slam into the bathroom and slap your hands onto the vanity and begin to dry heave.

Your stomach lurches, but though your terror twists like knives in your gut, nothing comes up. You endure an agonizingly long minute of your insides turning in on themselves. Sweat mats your hair that sticks to your face. You try not to think of anything at all as you turn on the faucet and cup water in your hand to bring to your mouth. But even that makes you feel worse, so you turn the sink back off after a few sips.

Braced against the countertop, you valiantly struggle to not fall apart at the seams. You hear footsteps behind you and sigh as they stop just at your back.

Right. You left Sun in yet another blinding fit of panic. He probably thinks you’re completely off your rocker at this point. You’d bet what you saw wasn’t even what the paper said. Just another illusion chipping away at your sanity.

The ribbon and bell can’t be as easily explained away. But you have a creeping, uncomfortable suspicion that it’s a souvenir from the detectives’ trip last night.

“Sorry,” you say with a coarse laugh that sounds weak even to your ears. You don’t bother lifting your head to look at him in the mirror. It seems rude not to offer an explanation for your behavior though, so you keep talking. “Could’ve sworn I saw something, but it’s probably just my eyes playing tricks on little old me again. Seems I’m a little more tired today than I thought.”

Sun remains at a loss for words, and you can’t blame him at all. You’re really kicking off into the deep end. In place of placating you, he rests a comforting hand on your back, and you stagger as you soak in the warm pressure. It travels up, toying with your strands of hair, gently brushing them to the side. His palm reaches all the way up to the back of your neck, his thumb curling down one side while the rest of his fingers curl around the other, enclosing like a metallic embrace that neatly ends at your throat.

The gesture, intended to be reassuring, only brings back even more terrible memories. You grimace and open your mouth to kindly ask him to let go, but then the fingers dig in and squeeze.

Shocked, your head snaps up as the ability to breathe becomes drastically harder. In the mirror, this time you see yellow eyes with black pupils that glow with malevolent glee. Sun presses closer, and as your shaking hands frantically latch onto the hand crushing your throat, he dips his head low enough to share a whisper.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Sun says, but to your horror, it’s not Sun’s voice.

It’s static electricity laced over burning anger and garbled into near inscrutability. It’s hunger and annoyance and possessiveness and delight tangled into one, all driven by an intent to devour you whole. You bite out a reedy gasp as Sun—no, Eclipse—keeps your head pinned up straight so you can’t look away.

Briefly, one of the yellow optics flashes white, a pupil flickering between familiar blue and paralyzing black before Eclipse wrestles back control.

The hand on your neck picks you up, and your feet kick the air as you claw at the metallic fingers to no avail. Eclipse twists you to face him, face the very real horror you’ve been convincing yourself is all in your head, and desperation pushes you to keep fighting. He effortlessly holds you up even higher than eye-level, the floor an unreachable distance away. When one of your hands darts down for a pin, his is quick to snatch your wrist.

He mockingly tsks at you, drawing you closer so that his snake-like gaze overwhelms you.

“I’m afraid you won’t be sleeping anytime soon.”

As tears begin to slip free from the lack of air, you silently plead to wake up. You dangle in Eclipse’s grip, and as your resistance becomes more futile and panic-stricken, his cruel grin offers no mercy.

“S-Sun,” you gasp, begging.

You’re answered with sharp amusement that has no business being on Sun’s faceplate. Unimaginable terror seizes you.

“We’ve had our fun,” Eclipse purrs, “but I suppose it’s time to put an end to this little game of ours.” His leer briefly changes to black, and his grasp threatens the bones in your neck. You can’t stop your strained yelp as it pierces the air. “Though I must applaud you for using my celestial wire to save Sunny. Were you by any chance aware of the data chip stored inside it, or did Sunny and Moonie fail to tell you? Because it seems that even now, they’re keeping secrets.”

Eclipse tilts his head in mock exasperation. The image is a blur to you, and you squeeze your eyes shut tight as agony crowds out all thoughts.

“Whatever the case, your little stunt gave me just enough time to make a smooth transfer before you ripped out my wire. And that means,” he lowers you to growl in your ear, “we can now pick up where we left off. You’ve got a running tab that you still owe me, and I intend to collect. But before we get to that...”

Your attempts to remove Eclipse’s crushing hold are met with him jostling you like a puppet. Without warning, he suddenly whirls his arm back and throws you hard, only for your body to slam against the wall a second later. Your spine screams in pain, but no sound travels past your mouth as the breath is knocked out of your chest. You collapse brokenly against the tub, and black clouds swim before you like the ones you’d seen a month ago. There’s no smoke, but you smell the acrid odor. As stars join the galaxy crowding your vision, the yellow eyes shine ever brighter into your soul, Eclipse crouching down next to you as you wheeze and struggle to not slip under the fog.

“We’ve got some catching up to do, pet.”

#moon x reader #sun x reader #eclipse x reader #daycare attendant x reader #sleuth jesters au #detective au #sleuth jesters fanfic #fnaf sb #me: *writes 1.5k drabble about the detectives not showing up in 'fire on fire'*#also me: wait no i've got a better idea #please ignore any errors dfifdsfgjigdff #i wrote this in a haze #much like the reader in this fic i might not have my sanity intact #writing tag

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mama-qwerty · 2 years

Text

My Handy-Dandy Fic & Writing Link List

I thought I'd gather convenient links for all my current Sonic fics and other bits of writing. Just in case, ya know, anyone out there may be interested.

Listed in order from newest to oldest.

Updated June 21, 2023

Lost and Found - an au in which Knuckles is adopted by Callie instead of the Wachowskis

Fall of the Status Quo - A certain silver hedgehog falls into Callie's life. Literally.

Campfire Tails - Sheriff Prower and the Mystery of the Silver Mine - A campfire story told by Tails, featuring his family in the roles.

A Burden Shared - A close call leaves some lasting feelings, and Tom and Knux have a late night bonding session

After the Dust Settles - Takes place between the Robotnik battle, and baseball scene at the end of Sonic 2

Sick as a Hog - The first time Sonic gets sick with the Wachowskis

The Walls Crack - Sonic finally opens up about his backstory to Tom and Maddie, after an innocent question sends him running

Maddie's First Mother's Day - How with the boys celebrate their first Mother's Day with Maddie?

An End and a Beginning - A tough day at the clinic sends Maddie to the deck for some quiet time, but Knux doesn't think she should be alone

Forced Perspective - One month after the second movie, and Knuckles falls ill

What's In A Name - After the events of Sonic 2, Maddie has some thoughts about what Sonic called Tom--and what he's NOT calling her

Late Night Thoughts - Sonic - Two months after the first movie, and Sonic's still having some trouble settling in with the Wachowskis, specifically Maddie - Told from Sonic's POV

Late Night Thoughts - Maddie - Two months after the first movie, and Sonic's still having some trouble settling in with the Wachowskis, specifically Maddie - Told from Maddie's POV

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Tumblr Exclusive Writing Snippets

I post some snippets of writing that frequently don't get finished and posted to Ao3 or Fanfiction.net. Just stuff that I started writing and either lost interest in, or discovered quickly they weren't going anywhere, but liked how they came out.

Drained Chaos - from a chat with @mcfanely about Knuckles having his chaos energy drained

When Eclipse Met Callie pt 4 - the gremlin saga continues

Base Instincts - something something all the Mobians on Earth revert to their more basic animalistic instincts

Lost and Found Ch 1 - A ‘what if’ au inspired by a story by @appendingfic - What if Callie adopted Knuckles instead of the Wachowskis?

Darkling Wade - What’s Right In Front Of You - Wade and Callie were just friends before he turned into a Dark, but now they wonder if there’s something more

Darkling Wade - At the Lake - The MacPherson clan--plus one--head out for a little R & R

Darkling Wade - The Hiss - Wade’s one and only time he’s ever hissed at Callie

When Eclipse Met Callie Pt 3 - Eclipse endears himself to Callie

Darkling Wade and Callie - Instincts - Wade has been feeling a strange instinct lately, and one night it takes control

Darkling Wade and Callie - Qwertyverse Edition - a kind of au in which Wade and Callie are dating when he turns into a Dark

Darkling Wade and Callie v1 - an au of sorts based on an ask and back and forth with @stillafanofsonic and @doomfox

The Curious Case of Miles Prower - a snippet thing based on de-aged Tails au from @dakt37

The Rock - Life in the MacPherson household is always exciting with Eclipse around.

When Eclipse Met Callie Pt 2 - a continuation of the previous part

The Spat - a few months after Eclipse joins the MacPherson household, he and Silver have a disgreement that ends in injury

When Eclipse Met Callie - Tumblr prompt from @stillafanofsonic asking what would happen when gremlin met librarian

Sonic Babysits - Tumblr prompt about Sonic babysitting Tom and Maddie’s baby, his little sister

Sonic’s First Birthday - Tumblr prompt about Sonic’s 1st birthday with Tom and Maddie

After Treatments - Shadow hates doing this treatments, and reacts poorly afterward.

The Bite - Shadow doesn't want to do his testing, and reacts in a less-then-ideal way.

Meeting Shadow - A tentative start to my Shadow story, in which Maria first meets the little hog.

Knuckles and Child - Just a short thing based on an ask about how Knuckles would take care of a baby.

Shopping with Silver - When Callie and Silver hit the grocery store, all seems well. Until Silver goes off on his own and encounters a few unfriendly townfolk.

Meeting Robotnik - A continuation of the previous bit, where Robotnik shows up at Callie's house to search for Sonic.

Meeting Sonic - An alternate movie fic in which Sonic meets Callie instead of Tom.

Hide the Hog - A little moment between Maria and a young Shadow, playing a little game at the start of the day.

Drone Home Snippet - Written in response to an ask I received regarding Knuckles' time between getting stuck in the billboard and returning to "help" Sonic and Tails with the drone.

Two Dorks Fail at Flirting - I have an upcoming fic in which Callie and Wade develop a mutual crush and start dating, but this is a quick little "stick a toe in and see how it feels".

~~~~@anartistwhowrites drew an adorable comic based on this snippet, with absolutely wonderful expressions, and it captures Wade and Callie's awkwardness PERFECTLY! Check it out, and give her a follow because she really is so freaking sweet and talented!~~~~

Chaotix & Callie - In an early version of an upcoming story which introduces Silver, I had the Chaotix come into play. Here's a really short snippet that I thought came out cute.

The Reluctant Tutor - Due to their inability to make sound decisions, the Wachowski boys are in need of a tutor. Callie is called in to assume the role, and here's the tentative start to that fic. Unknown if I'll ever finish it.

Mom's Done - Sometimes motherhood isn't all rainbows and unicorn farts. Maddie has a rough morning.

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Tumblr Shorties

Sometimes an ask (or something I see on my dash) will spark a bit of writing--a shortie. Here’s a convenient list of them.

The First Loss - based on a post of @aphantimes regarding Knuckles dealing with death

Eclipse Does Good

Tainted Energy pt 2 - a continuation of the previous bit, encouraged and enabled by @mcfanely

Tainted Knuckles - based on a post regarding a tainted Master Emerald, and a fanart based on that

Eclipse Loses Pt 2

Tom and Tails Bonding

Eclipse Loses

Sneaking In - Okay, so not technically an ask, more of a shortie I wrote while inspired by art from @quazart

Chaotix Babysit Badly

Eclipse vs. Lobsters

Eclipse Throws Up

Eclipse and the Litter Boxes

Wade and Eclipse’s Pounce Game

Mom Said No

Eclipse’s First Check-up

Eclipse Totally Isn’t Cuddling

Eclipse Back Scratch

Daddy Eclipse

Eclipse the Jedi

Stealing is Wrong

The Truth About the Child Leash

Check 'em out, spread 'em around, lemme know what you think, and share the love!

#my fics #sonic fanfiction #sonic the hedgehog #scu fics #ao3 #sonic movie fics #knuckles the echidna #tails the fox #miles tails prower #maddie wachowski #tom wachowski #ao3 fanfic #ao3 author #ao3 writer #darkling wade #eclipse the darkling #callie macpherson

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doomh3ad · 2 years

Note

arghhhhkahfwkks I LOVED IT SM THANK U FOR WRITING MY RQ <3 i was reading so slowly bc i didnt want it to end LMAO 💀💗💗💗 hes just so 🤕💞

as my second request, please can i have general dating headcanons! as detailed or as simple as you want! i promise ill stop requesting after this i dont wanna annoy or pressure you, you're just so amazing at writing i wanna read all of it!! oh yeah also sorry if i accidentally spam your notifs at any point i promise its an accident-

again, no pressure to write if you cant! and take ur time writing it theres no rush <33

oh and if you wanna request anything from me PLEASE DO! consider it payment for your wonderful writing 🙏🙏 even though itll be so fluffy and ooc ill try my best and ill be happy to write any slasher for you!!

- @tuliptyper

THANK U OMG you're not annoying me in the slightest omg feel free to keep requesting, ur inspiring me and i love hearing from u so thank u sm! don't worry about spamming i appreciate it sm <3 i'll definitely be requesting if that's ok bc i love fluff 🥺 sorry this is so short!

doomhead general dating headcanons!

-ok i won't lie i have a whole post coming that expands on this but he's got the most insane pet names and nicknames for you? he's so annoying he's lucky you love him

-you'll sometimes catch him whispering little romantic monologues to you late at night, when he thinks you're asleep or too tired to care. sometimes he's got quotes from your favourite movies, sometimes it's his own thoughts, but it's the sweetest thing in the world and you can't get enough of it.

-he compares you to his favourite characters, trailing a hand down your cheek and praising you. he's pretty touchy, he'll have his hands on you at most times casually because your touch and your presence soothes him. whether you're in his lap, or he's revelling in comparing your hand to his, it's an easy way to calm him down.

-if you wear makeup, he loves helping you apply it. the tenderness of the moment is eclipsed by his seemingly AWFUL eyeshadow skills. just...trust the process. he also sometimes feels like he doesn't do enough for all you give to him, so this little act of helpfulness lessens that fear a little <3

-he's so proud to have you. he'll show you off to everyone, boasting that you're the one he's dating. everyone look at his hot partner! okay, now stop looking or else he'll kill someone. he's so protective, but tries not to show it. he's kill for you, he'd die for you, you're his whole world. to be loved by him is to know all sides, the vicious, suave killer and your loving, if overzealous partner.

-he totally spoils you - i mean, he's gotta spend that 31 money somewhere, so why not on his pretty baby? anything you ask for, anything he sees you eye, it's yours. birthdays or anniversaries (which he meticulously keeps track of) are AMAZING when you're with him, because he knows you're not just material: he picks something special and dear to you, makes the day meaningful.

-he likes to dance with you, whether it's spinning you to some upbeat song playing on the radio in the kitchen in the morning or slowly, holding you in his arms as he looks down at you and thinks about how much he loves you, how devastatingly beautiful you are.

#horror #slasher x reader #doomhead my beloved i love writing for him sm... he's a creep he's a weirdo he's our boyfriend #imelda's writing #slasher #slasher fic #doomhead #doomhead x reader #doomhead 31 #31 #rob zombie #rob zombie movies #rob zombie's 31 #rob zombie 31 #slashers #slasher thirst

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narudoodles · 2 years

Text

Tagged by @s-nyah-suke thank you for the tag! 😊 (sorry this so late, I keep forgetting to complete it even when I started editing it in my drafts 😭 I've got a bad case of scatterbrains lol)

Last song: OST of 180 degree longitude passes through us (currently airing Thai drama which I'm OBSESSED with rn 🥺), sung by Pond Ponlawit, who plays the lead role in it

Last Show: Extraordinary Attorney Woo (❤️❤️❤️ it was phenomenal, loved it so much!! 😭)

Currently Watching: ooh too many lol

1. Alchemy of Souls

2. 180 degree longitude passes through us

3. The Eclipse

4. Kei X Yaku

5. Tvn Little Women

Currently Reading: only fanfics, that too mostly of KinnPorsche the Series lmao

Current obsession: 180degree the series, Old Fashion Cupcake (another amazing jdrama, it was very chill and pretty inspiring tbh 🥺💕)

Tagging: asjhaskfs I really don't know that many people here?!?!? But @rogueninja @oneswordstyle @tamelee @kinomiakai @gaymersasuke @dark-naruto if you guys want to! :)

#Personal #Tag games

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jungkxook · 3 years

Text

—out of the blue. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ genre: youtuber/gamer!jungkook + fluff / smut

⟶ words: 5,204

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: catching your boyfriend bleaching and dyeing his hair for a livestream is definitely not what you expected — but it certainly has its perks.

⟶ warnings: established relationship, some attempt at humour, .2 seconds of sort of sub jungkook (you just like seeing him on his knees), you call jungkook a good boy, shower sex, hair pulling, oral sex, face riding, standing sex, breast play, cum eating, doggy style, unprotected sex, creampie

⟶ note: because blue haired jungkook has me feeling all sorts of things. also dedicating this to the lovely ryen @kithtaehyung because blue haired jungkook is getting her too and i hope this helps!! and thank you to the wonderful @gamerkooks and @stanrandomthings for always giving me inspiration for gamer jungkook <3

“What the hell are you doing?”

Jungkook has less than a second to react when he hears you bursting through the door of his bedroom, a guilty expression plastered on his face as if you’ve caught him in the midst of a much worse act than what he’s already currently doing ━ but the flustered scowl deepening your countenance is enough for him to certainly feel that way, because how else is he supposed to casually explain why he’s currently sitting shirtless in front of a camera?

Admittedly, the sight is odd enough, and there’s a split moment where your incredulous look is enough to make him feel as if he’s wronged you, and your six month long relationship with him, entirely before he remembers that he didn’t actually do anything wrong like cheat on you, but is actually just trying to dye his hair.

He’s sat in his gaming chair, camera and lights set up around him, and the monitor of his desktop all recording his face to the hundreds of thousands of viewers currently watching his livestream. He had told you well in advance about his aim to do a twenty-four hour live broadcast for his subscribers to both raise money for a donation and to countdown to his next subscriber milestone with the help of his friends ━ and had even asked you to help him plan the event, discussing it animatedly with you for the past month on various occasions ━ but mainly just because Jungkook is crazy enough to sit through a twenty-four hour stream and call it fun.

You had known most of how the entirety of the day would go. Starting from noon the previous day to now, almost an hour before the stream ends, thus far he’s done various gameplays from Minecraft to Overwatch to Among Us simultaneously with his friends who had offered to marathon with him the twenty-four hour event; had a period of time in which Jimin and Taehyung were over and cramped in his room to answer questions and talk to viewers but mostly just to create absolute chaos. You had been there for most of it, though you’re still trying to figure out if it’s a blessing or a curse that you were suckered into paying rent for your three bedroom apartment by Taehyung more than a year ago, and subsequently falling madly in love with Jungkook and forcing you to aid in his antics. You’ve been in a handful of his videos before, appearing in Twitch and YouTube streams, and in the background of vlogs in his channel and the channels belonging to the other boys; and, on that day for Jungkook’s twenty-four hour event, you had joined him at the start before being dragged away for work and then tried to pull an all-nighter with him until you crashed on the couch in the living room, and checking in on him occasionally to give him food and water and to just generally make sure your boyfriend isn’t dead.

Now, with the remaining final hour dwindling down, you had been in your room trying to finish last minute essay writing for school, with your phone propped up on your desk and Jungkook’s livestream playing as background noise to your studying. One minute, he had been playing a round of Among Us, and the next, when you had glanced up, he had the bottle in hand and the detrimental blue dye coating his hair in slick globs. It wouldn’t have been so shocking, had you not seen Jungkook an hour ago when he had his natural dark hair still, and now he had somehow managed to sneak in bleaching his hair in the time you had left him. Maybe it was your fault for not catching it sooner, if only because you had sheepishly taken a small nap amidst your studying only to wake up to a nightmare.

Which is where that leaves you currently, dishevelled demeanour standing at the threshold of his door after chasing over to his room, watching as Taehyung helps Jungkook sufficiently ruin his beautiful hair which you love so much.

“Uh… Dyeing my hair?” Jungkook finally answers, dumbfounded. He’s fortunate he had pulled off his shirt to avoid getting hair dye on it, an old towel now draped around his shoulders to catch any excess mess. He adds brightly, “We asked for suggestions on how to end the stream and someone said I should dye my hair, so Tae got the stuff.”

“You bleached your own hair?” You retort, exasperated. “When the hell did all this happen? I’ve been next door to you the whole time! What if your hair falls out? You should’ve gotten a professional to do it, not Tae━”

Taehyung looks inexplicably offended by your slandering remarks on his (lack of) hair styling skills, retorting with, “Yo, what the━?”

Jungkook blinks, as if just being made aware of what he’s actually doing.

“My hair’s gonna fall out?” he gaps. “Guys, what the hell? Why’d no one tell me?”

He looks from you to Taehyung then over at the comments on his livestream which are currently flooding with the sole topic of you. His eyes snag the first few that appear to him in the frenzied influx of words:

uh oh jungkook’s sleeping on the floor tonight

oh shit run bro

f in the chat for jk’s hair

get him y/n!!!!

“Dude, she’s just being dramatic,” Taehyung waves you off. He ducks out of the way when you reach out to Jungkook’s bed for a pillow and chuck it at the older boy’s head.

“And when he’s bald, then what━”

“No!” A helpless Jungkook exclaims suddenly. He gestures wildly to the stream, “Don’t give them ideas. The edits are gonna start pouring in.”

“Jeon, look, it’s too late to go back now,” Taehyung says. “You’ve got half your head covered in dye and three minutes to go with the stream. How bad can it be?”

A groveling sigh eclipses your lips as you push yourself forward. “Then at least let me help before you ruin it completely.”

Jungkook’s fortunate, to say the least, though he’s left wondering if you’re truly upset with him.

He finishes the countdown to the end of his twenty-four hour stream with you and Taehyung putting the last remaining globs of dye on his hair, a heartfelt goodbye to his viewers who marathoned the stream with him, and a promise to update them on the status of his hair when he washes the dye out.

And, just as soon as he’s shut his camera off, the mundane world returns to him.

It’s no longer millions of anonymous and faceless viewers watching him from the other side of their screens in the tiny bubble that is his room, but just you and Taehyung and the older boy’s frisky little Pomeranian dog and the threat of a wallowing regret as Jungkook thinks to himself, what the hell did he truly just do to his hair?

At some point, Taehyung retreats to his girlfriend’s house taking Yeontan with him, leaving you alone with Jungkook and he basks in the sudden cozy quiet after twenty-four hours of madness as the adrenaline rush begins to fade and mellow out. Back aching, joints cracking and popping as he stretches and moves, and eyes burning in the similar way they do from having stared at a screen for too long, but tenfold, he craves nothing more than to find your sweet and comforting touch to end such a long day.

He finds you in the living room already scrolling through your phone and your Twitter feed to read and marvel at all the comments and memes made by his viewers during his stream and his heart threatens to burst through his chest because you’ve always been so supportive of him and his fans, and they’ve always adored you and your endless interactions with them. So, surely, you can’t be mad at him for bleaching and dyeing his hair. Right?

As his arms come to wrap around you from behind, face nuzzling in the crook of your neck, he hears you bemoan, “You look like a Smurf came on your head.”

Wrong.

Well, not entirely, he guesses. You do lean into his chest, practically melting against him. A sluggish grin tugs at his lips and, instead, he chooses to ask, “Shower with me?”

“Aren’t you tired, Koo?”

“Baby,” he deadpans, and your heart flutters just a little bit, “by this point, I’m running solely on Red Bull and coffee that I’m positive I could fight the gods with my bare hands and win. In fact, I’ve had so much caffeine that I’m fairly certain I’ve ascended to the astral plane. Besides, I need to wash this dye out, and I could use some help. Sleep can wait.”

“Help,” You snort. “You’re such a liar. I already know what you want.”

“To spend time with my beautiful girlfriend? You’re right.”

“I’m not sucking your dick.”

He pulls his head back to look at you. Though he tries to look offended, there’s the tiniest of smirks on his face. “Wasn’t gonna ask you!”

You turn to properly face him in his arms and shoot him a dubious glance. He leans down to press a chilling kiss to your jaw, then nudges his nose against you in the same spot so that you’ll move your head. You do so, despite your prior scolding, and let him kiss the underside of your jaw down to your neck.

“Okay, fine,” You huff finally.

You relent, miraculously, but Jungkook had already guessed you would the moment he had found you in the living room and he couldn’t be happier.

He cherishes the moments alone with you, has come to know them well as he falls into a comfortable routine with you away from prying eyes over the last few months. Because sometimes, as he comes to learn, it’s hard to establish a relationship when his job requires him to be in the spotlight often. What is authentic and what is simply fabricated for views is difficult to discern, and yet you’re patient with him. Not everything to him is money and views and numbers, or what his next big plan is, or how you could potentially help him in some way (despite knowing that any video featuring you seems to skyrocket his views and land his videos on the trending page of YouTube more often than not because he knows everyone loves you more than him). You know when he’s his online persona and when he’s simply just Jungkook, and while there’s hardly any difference between the two, his online personality surely has to maintain a level of privacy and happiness that may not always be true.

At least with you, he can just be himself. He can finally be at ease.

Showering together is just one of the many acts of normalcy he cherishes with you. So, he turns on the shower and lets the bathroom get all warm and balmy as you undress. He’s the first one inside, hissing in delight as he lets the water run over his sore muscles, washing out the dye in his hair firstly so as not to get it on you and fortunately not making too much of a mess of blue dye in the tub. You’ve joined him in an instant when he’s nearly done, squeezing into the space in front of him as you shut the glass door behind you, the pane already beginning to fog and slick with droplets of condensation. He pulls you into him once more, nestling his chin on your shoulder as his hands come to wrap around you. They slide across your front, all wet and soapy, briefly gliding across your breasts, palms brushing against your nipples before traveling down to your navel.

“Congrats, baby,” You coo gently. “Twenty-four hours.”

He murmurs into your hair, “Missed you loads though.”

You turn to look at him finally, and it’s hard not to stare. Your eyes land firstly on his abdomen and the toned muscles there, trailing up to his arm and the pretty tattoos that decorate every inch of his skin, to his soft pink lips and his big eyes. Then, there’s the matter of his hair. The water has done most of the work in washing out the dye from his hair, now falling across his forehead and into his eyes and cheekbones, and it’s only then that you fully register the dye has worked as you struggle to find any remnants of his once-ebony-then-blonde locks. The blue hair is an obvious stark contrast to his natural hair and, you think, it is pretty, accentuating his radiant skin and making his eyes pop.

“I didn’t think you were actually serious all those times you said you wanted to change your hair.” Your lips are pursed as you survey him now, your fingers twirling a strand of his tresses around and around as you inspect it.

He smiles, catching your hand and pressing a quick peck to your knuckles. “Neither did I,” he admits sheepishly. “It sort of just happened.”

You pout. “I’m gonna miss your natural hair.”

“Do you really hate it blue?”

“I don’t hate it. Was more scared you’d ruin your pretty hair and make it all fall out.”

At this, Jungkook flashes you a cheeky smile. He holds his head a little higher. “So you still think my hair is pretty?”

“I think you’re a dork,” You clarify. “And, aside from the fact you almost gave me a heart attack, I’d say the blue is so pretty. Beyond pretty. Kinda hot, if I’m being honest.”

Because you’re not really mad, but it’s fun just to tease Jungkook and see his reactions. At the very least, he can sense this, as it’s apparent with the way his smile stretches even wider on his face.

“Hot, huh?”

“Mhm. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

He feigns a look of mock hurt. “Oh no. You must be really mad. Want me to make it up to you?”

“How are you gonna do that?”

“Well, what do you want from me?”

You take a moment to think it over, but the answer is already obvious enough. It’s one that even he knows, and one that has won you over the moment Jungkook was freed from his stream. You hum aloud, “You, on your knees, head between my legs, like a good boy. Think I can get a better viewpoint of your hair from down there anyway before I judge it.”

“Like a good boy?” A dark smirk tugs at his face. “So now who’s the needy one?”

He lowers his head so that he’s leaving a trail of sloppy wet kisses down your neck to your collarbones. As you let yourself get carried away for a moment, you wrap your arm around his neck, pulling him backwards until you’re pressed up against the glass door. He ducks even lower, kissing just above your left breast and then catching your nipple between his teeth. You swallow thickly, rubbing your thighs together, reminding yourself to respond to him.

“It’s not my fault when you were busy for the past day,” You pout. “And the blue hair really is sexy.”

“Aha!” he straightens up in front of you suddenly, a crooked smug smile on his face. “So I’m not just hot. I’m sexy.”

“You’re literally always sexy. And beautiful too. It’s almost unfair.”

“That’s even better.”

You tug your fingers at his damp locks. When you speak, your voice is a mix between urgency and a whine. “Jungkook. I could’ve already gotten off with my hand at this point.”

“Ouch, feisty!” He pokes his fingers at your sides. Then, nipping a little more firmly on the soft skin of your breast, murmurs huskily, “Alright, alright. But only if you call me a good boy again.”

Part of him is taunting you, but there’s a small sliver of intrigue that makes the thought in his head and the pretty words on your tongue excite him to no end.

Still, you choose to entertain him, maybe a little drowsily and entirely consumed by him, “I will if you let me ride your face.”

A rumble of a chuckle resonates from him. You find him on his knees in the next moment, wedging himself between your thighs. He nudges one of your legs and you follow the wordless command, hitching one thigh over his shoulder as you settle back against the glass door of the shower. He kisses at your hips as he dips his head lower and lower to where you want him, before swiping his tongue at your cunt, tasting all of you at once.

“Mmm, Koo━” A soft whimper sounds from you, making his head swim.

He wastes no time in lapping at your folds, tongue delving into you deeper and deeper as he cranes his neck. The wetness that pools between your legs and on the tip of his tongue is a sticky mess that he basks in just a little longer.

“Fuck,” he groans into your pussy, “you taste so fucking good. Missed this so much.”

His hands are big as they come to hold you close, cradling your ass, your thighs, your hips, anything to pull you into him while simultaneously pushing your thighs further apart.

You manage to find your voice and quip weakly, “Missed me or having your head between my legs?”

“You, definitely,” he murmurs. He busies himself by reaching out with his thumb to press circles against your clit. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, hips rutting into his face. “All of you.”

“Jungkook━ Fuck━”

He burrows further into you, humming in response. His nose brushes against your clit, the muscle of his tongue a pleasant wet that makes you warm all over. You give another experimental swivel of your hips, grinding against his tongue just right. He pinches at your hips as if to probe you onward, and then you do it again, and again, desperately rocking your hips back and forth against him. Your fingers reach out to grab a fistful of his hair, clutching it so tightly he hisses. But you’re right. The blue locks look dazzling between your legs, being pulled by your hands as you push him further into you.

His eyes meet yours from below your waist, hooded and idle, enjoying the view as you squirm and writhe above him, shamelessly riding his face. Grinding against his chin, nose, and tongue, the slick wetness you leave behind glistens on his skin.

“Ah, Koo━” You cry out. “Fuck, I’m gonna━!”

Your orgasm hits you violently, sending you keeling. Your hips continue with reckless abandon, and Jungkook presses his finger against your clit a little harder, a little faster. The abrupt gushing warmth between your thighs sends your mind spinning, as the steam from the shower and your panting breaths begin to fog the bathroom. When your hips begin to slow, Jungkook laps at the rest of your leaking core before pulling away with a grin brandishing his shimmering face. He lets you pull him up eagerly, clumsy hands fumbling to hold either side of his face as you tug at him.

“God, you’re so hot, babe,” he sighs wistfully, smothering your lips with his for an all too chaste kiss, before leaning in once more to nibble at your lower lip.

“Wanna feel you, Koo,” You prompt urgently. “Want you in me.”

Jungkook hastens to comply, his hands falling to your waist. “Go on, then. Turn around for me.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You spin so that you’re facing the glass sliding door, your back to him. You watch him over your shoulder, momentarily admiring his well built stature, the tattoos that ink his body, and the water that shimmers on his skin. He has to push his wet hair up and away when it falls across his forehead and then he reaches down to grasp at his length, grip tight around his shaft so that he can pump himself sluggishly a few short times. It’s almost painful to watch him jerk himself off in front of you, the tip a burning red and glistening. He catches you staring and decides to catch you off guard when he grabs a hold of your hips with one hand. He yanks you towards him, your ass pressed firmly against his hips, making you jump from the startle, and grins when you look back at him.

Then, ever so slowly, he runs the length of his cock along your folds. Before you can brace yourself for the overwhelming rush of pleasure, he’s sliding his cock past your folds, burrowing into you deep. He curses behind you, his other hand flying out to steady himself by digging into your hip.

“Fffuck. Shit.” He dips his head so that his cheek is resting against your shoulder and sputters for air. “Jesus, fuck━ Been dying to feel you all day.”

He fits so snugly in you, so perfectly, just like always and you take him so well, coaxed by your own arousal. He ruts his hips forward into yours and you nearly fall forward before catching yourself by pressing your palms to the glass. Then, he’s grinding against you, small and precise thrusts that roll into your hips.

“Mmm, Jungkook,” you choke out. “You feel so━ So good.”

“Ah, shit,” he hisses. “Wanna wreck you so bad.”

He angles his chest a little more, pummels his dick into you in such a way that he’s hitting a different spot in you. His eyes stay fixated on the soft, round flesh of your ass and the way his cock slips so easily into you, brows screwed in concentration, jaw clenched. The slight bounce of your ass each time he rolls his hips firmly against you, the way you ricochet forward each time in tandem with his moves. You bow your head, pressing your temple against the glass door now tinted with condensation, only marked up by the imprints of your fingers grasping at anything. It’s almost sweltering hot in the shower now but you both pay no mind to it. He fucks into you with such languid, steady strides, cock beginning to throb and twitch in anticipation. You feel so wet, such a pitiless mess between your thighs already that it makes him growl.

“H-Harder,” You mewl. “Oh, Koo━”

He almost slips behind you in his eagerness to obey, awakening something animalistic in him, a yearning to just release all the tension in his core. This time, he adapts a measured pace, forceful thrusts that have you crying out in delight each time. One hand reaches up to grip at your shoulder to steady himself while his other slithers around your front to grasp at your breasts, all wet and supple, pinching at your nipples.

“So good,” he moans, pressing sloppy kisses just below your ear. His breath is hot as he pants behind you, sending tingles down your spine. “Fuck━”

His voice is cut off by a whine, hips bucking forward in an unsolicited manner as he feels his high drawing near. You lean your head onto his shoulder, stretching your arm out so that you can tug desperately at his hair. It’s a silent, simple command, but it’s one that he immediately understands even without you speaking.

“Wanna feel you━” You whimper. “Wanna see you.”

Jungkook nearly slips as he fumbles to pull out of you, hissing at the loss of warmth and friction. As soon as you’ve turned to face him, he wastes no time in closing the distance between you. He pushes his leaking cock past your folds once more and continues at the same pace as if he had never even stopped to begin with.

“Fuck,” he whines. “Not gonna last━”

You wrap your arms around his neck, drawing him even closer to you, as he presses you against the glass. He hitches one of your thighs around his waist, spreading your legs just wide enough to hit a certain spot that has both of you crying out. You’re clinging so tightly to him, fingers digging harshly into his skin in an attempt to alleviate the building pressure you feel. He knows you’ve almost reached your end when you resort to a gasping, moaning mess, writhing beneath his broad stature.

“Close, baby?” he hums.

You open your mouth to respond but can only muster a whimper. His pace treads over to heedlessly frantic, the sound of skin against skin and the lewd wetness filling the shower. Despite his hips pounding into yours so harshly, his fingers flutter so delicately under your chin, grasping it and moving your head just enough so that you’re facing him.

“Lemme see you,” he grunts. “Wanna watch you when you cum all over my cock. Always so pretty.”

“I━ I’m━ Fuck, Koo━”

But you can’t finish your thought.

You keep your gaze fixated on Jungkook’s, however exhausted and weary it may be. Your lashes flutter, brows knit together, and you suck your lower lip between your teeth, biting so hard Jungkook’s certain you’ll bruise it. Another few hard thrusts and then you’re reaching your high, overcome by such an intense burning that you can’t help but look away out of instinct. You cry his name, face contorting in pure pleasure, and chest arching to meet his. You’re clenching so tightly around him has him sputtering for air, nearly collapsing entirely against you. You’re near dripping around his cock which only means he almost slips from you with each draw of his hips that he makes. It’s why he sloppily rocks his hips into yours, desperate to reach his own high as well.

When you return to your senses, blinking away your blurry vision, you can make out Jungkook cooing into your ear, “That’s it, baby. Doing so well.”

You meet his gaze once more, only this time you’re perhaps even more tired. Hooded eyes watch him, silently probing him to his climax. He comes tumbling towards it, a few more short thrusts of his hips and, finally, he’s there. He slams his hips up into yours one final time, crying out, and then he’s releasing into you in an overwhelming abrupt gush. Only he can’t quite enjoy it because, out of genuine accident and driven by impatience to just get off, the last jerk of his hips hits you a little too hard.

It’s what causes you to slip backward and he, so lost in his own reverie, hardly has a proper grip on you or where he’s standing. When you lose your footing beneath you, slipping on the wet porcelain of the tub, and comes crashing down, he’s brought along with you. “Oh, fuck━!”

The both of you yelp from the surprise, your hands flailing out to brace yourself for the fall.

Fortunately, you land on him when you reach the bottom of the tub, courtesy of him grabbing onto you last second so that he can soften the blow upon impact.

Unfortunately, the breath is knocked out of him from the startle and from the sudden added weight of you on top of him with no warning.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he groans.

“In hindsight,” You wince as you shift your weight above him, “maybe having sex in the shower again wasn’t the greatest idea. Remember last time when we knocked the shower curtain down and I had to get stitches on my elbow? It’s why we got the glass door installed, and then we had to lie to Tae about it.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” He tilts his head back, rubbing a hand over his face. Then, he flashes you an all too charming smirk. “Was kinda worth it though.”

You giggle, sounding so sweet and angelic, even despite the way his cum still leaks from you. Somewhere in the fall, his dick had slipped from you and now lays softening on his stomach which, really, is probably the worst part of the accident to him. He already misses the warmth of you wrapped around him, your mingling cum a dirty mess around him. You prop yourself up on his chest with your palms, but before you can even think to respond, you notice something out of the corner of your eye.

A small mass of fur in the shape of little Yeontan has just poked his head through the crack in the door, oblivious to you and Jungkook’s compromising position. And then, shortly following behind him, is his equally oblivious owner who must have forgotten something in the apartment to bring him back so suddenly.

“Tannie, get back here━ We gotta go━ Oh, Jesus, what the fuck?” Taehyung appears at the door for a millisecond before noticing the situation he’s just stumbled upon. Thankfully, he acts fast, and clamps a hand over his tainted eyes, clumsily scooping up Yeontan in his other hand. “Can you guys please stop fucking all over this damn apartment? My son’s eyes are too pure for this!”

And then he’s retreating, but not before bumping blindly into the doorframe, grumbling along the way. It’s silent for a moment as you and Jungkook gawk at one another; then you hear Taehyung leave the apartment once more, and the both of you dissolve into a fit of unabashed laughter.

“Are you okay?” You ask once you’ve calmed down enough as he reaches out to shut the shower off. You plant a kiss in your boyfriend’s hair. “You hit your head coming down.”

Jungkook’s heart swells at your gentle touches and smiles. “I’m fine,” he promises brightly. “You?”

“Well, you did just thoroughly fuck me, so━” You shrug innocently. “I’m kinda still too giddy to even care.”

“I’m gonna make it up to you,” he says. “For almost giving you a heart attack with my hair and for almost putting you in the emergency room again just now.”

The mention of his hair draws your attention to it once more. It’s not as wet as before, damp azure waves falling into his eyes that you brush away gingerly.

“Yeah,” You snort, “but I’ve decided I like your hair. Like, really like it.”

“Yeah?” he grins wide. “What was the deciding factor?”

You pause, as if to think for a moment. Exhaustion riddles your body and you know sleeping curled up next to Jungkook is nearing your future, but for now you let yourself entertain the last remnants of whatever lewd thoughts are still on yours and his minds before they fizzle away completely. You can’t help yourself anyway. The blue really is nice.

“Definitely the view of you eating me out,” You say. “And can’t forget how pretty it looks when I’m pulling at your hair.”

“Say no more,” he beams. “Then I’ll make it up to you by making you cum on my tongue again and again and again.”

The last thing he hears before he grabs at your cheek to softly pull you down to him for one last kiss, slow and ardent, is a bubbly giggle from you that delights him to no end.

“That’s a good boy.”

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

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little-trash-can-laura · 3 years

Photo

A 3 weeks Hunter practice sketches dump

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Descriptions for ideas are under cut

A4 completed presentation: https://little-trash-can-laura.tumblr.com/post/659871702955737088/a4-3-weeks-hunter-practice-sketches-dump

- first night staying in the Owl house after running away from Belos. He has some time to be alone and try out the Light Glyphs. Luz let him borrow some pillows and blankets, was checking if he is doing alright.

- Hunter is singing Crawling-Linkin Park. He needs to let all those stresses out. King hates it. ( this scenario most likely when Hunter already stay quite long in the Owl house )

- how I imagine Eda will react if seeing Hunter face before Eclipse Lake.

- Owlbert and Little Rascal are both have scars.

- I still hopefully think about Hunter's parents watch over him since spirit/ghost did mention in TOH. Again, this was before Yesterday’s lie aired >:’(

- Hunter is still staying at the Owl House. He borrows King's stuffed animal to build a fort for his reading time. L.Rascal stays up with him. It was really late, Hunter is very very sleepy but refused to go to sleep.

- I called this one: Golden Butterfly ( may took inspiration from the Smile.dk - Butterfly song )

- expressions practice

#my artwork #The Golden Guard #Hunty Luzzi #Owl gang #TOH fan art #TOH doodles

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feelin-lo · 2 years

Note

Hey Lo, its me Jane/Snowy 😃😄🌼💙✨👋👋👋

About your "Guardians of Dreams" AU there are few couple of things I'm curious on, hmmmm I'm not sure if ur up to answer them all if you can't its alright hehehehehehe u don't have to answer them all anyways here I go:

First Question: is your AU only focuses on your lovely Trio? (Cloudy, Stormy, and Morning?) Or just the Duo (Cloudy and Stormy) along with Moon and Sun? If so why?

Second Question: does Logan have a part of this AU or neither? Or anything?

Third Question: does this AU take place on Dreams?

Fourth Question: What inspires you to make succcchhh an amaaazzzzingggg AU

Fifth Question (Last One): YOOUUuuuurrrr Guardians of Dreams Idea Au wasssss sooooo VERRRYYYYY INDEEDLY interesting, Im not sure if its open for a lil collab but I do wanna volunteer to heelllpppp and it will be an honor to do soooo hehehehehehe buttttttt still its your idea dear one it still depends on ya, whatever your decision is I will respect that and I will support yaaaaa allllll the wayyyyyy!☺️💙✨✨✨✨✨

THATS ALL FOR NOW MY FRIEEENDDD ALSSSOOO HAVEEEE A NICE BEAUTIFUL DAAAYYYY LOOOOOO! AND THANKS FOR READIIINNNGGG! 😄✨✨

Okie dokie!

1- it does not!

It focuses on Y/N. It's a story that I want anyone to place themselves in, as I previously explained, Y/N has been very VERY stressed lately and as a result, has barely slept. School is stressing them, home is stressing them and their part time job is stressing them out too.

Morning and Eclipse show up but as residents of Daydream Village and Nightmare town.

(Morning - Nightmare)

(Eclipse - Daydream)

One night when they actually get sleep, they wake up in a place they don't recognise.

This is my Y/N design.

When they wake up in this place, they're wearing clothes that they don't recognise either.

2- Logan is a character that I use for everything. He was the first ever character I made and he's been in my life since I was about 7. And so, I port him over to everything I make. So YES! He does play a part.

I call him the Imaginary friend.

The reason being, he is rarely seen in the dream world. He is more seen during the day but as someone that not only Y/N can interact with and touch, but every one else can too. He doesn't look like he does in the dream world. In the real world he is as he is normally aka the design we are all used to. He looks like this in the dream world :

Your eyes don't deceive you, his eyes have stars in them.

3 - the AU takes place in your dreams. In the shared realm of everyone's dreams and these four goofs look after it. However it is only accessible if The Imaginary friend let's you in.

4 - the AU itself was a combination of factors. One being a comment left by @sasharain23 I'm pretty sure I've said this before. But also it was also based on a story I had written ages ago that only friends of mine read. And I wanted to rehydrate it in a way and the AU seems to be the perfect way to do so.

5 - it depends on the medium. If it's a little art contribution every now and again that's all good.

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cowperviolet · 3 years

Text

A GUIDE TO MEDIEVAL TOURNAMENTS

Do you have a dynastic wedding to celebrate? A diplomatic visit to spice up? An axe to grind with a neighbour whose pageantry is eclipsing yours? Organize a tournament. It’s always the answer. A tournament of the greatest knights of the realm cannot go wrong.

Of course, it’s also a great and complex undertaking; but, thankfully, this step-by-step handbook should guide you through the process with only minimal pain and no injury

Obtain permission.

In England in France at least, organizing tourneys had become mostly a royal and ducal prerogative after 1340 – if you are not lucky enough to belong to one of those miniscule categories of the population, you would have to seek a special license. Obtaining it shouldn’t be a problem… unless, of course, there is a war on. In that case, you’d better check the latest royal proclamations – it’s more than possible that one of them contains a temporary ban on all tournaments while men of fighting age might have to risk their lives and limbs against an actual enemy. If this is true, it would be prudent of you to postpone your plans for a few months (or years, depending on how the war is going) – you wouldn’t want to content yourself with the kind of furtive affair that was the Le Hem tournament of 1278. It was hastily staged in direct violation of Louis IX ’s prohibition of tournaments because of the ongoing war, and as a result had to even dispense with the mêlée on the third day.

(If you think the prohibition overbearing and unfair, plenty of people would agree with you – and not just the kind of people who can afford swords and horses. The poet Sarrasin criticized the king in his Le Roman du Hem for bankrupting the heralds, armourers, saddlers and provisioners of France with his tournament ban).

2. Consider the time and place.

Most tourneys run from Monday to Sunday, with Friday being the rest day. You would need a spacious marketplace to divide into lists, too.

A lot depends on what kind of tournament you want to host. A general mêlée whose absence so disappointed the spectators in Le Hem would need more space than a contained joust; on the other hand, mêlée combat has been steadily losing its popularity as of late in favour of one-on-one jousts.

Of course, some people grumble that the old days when horsemen smashing into enemy in massed formations were the fixture of any tournament where the days when men were still men. But we are modern, fifteenth-century people, and we understand the importance of ensuring safety both for the participants and the spectators – hence the barriers down the centre of each list to prevent the knights from actually colliding with each other, and fenced enclosures to keep the audience strictly away from the danger. Which brings us to…

3. Decide on the rules.

The traditional rules of joust are the following: the knights are divided into two teams, those ‘within’ and those ‘without’ – or, in other words, the ‘defenders’ and the ‘attackers’. The space is, in turn, divided into three lists, each separated from the other by high barriers. The courses – the charges by two opposing knights – are going to be run down each, towards the spectacular splintering of lances. Each day, a prize, usually in the form of a small jewel or a golden chain, should be given to the best-performing knight and squire from each team.

You can, however, add or tweak a few details in order to make the sport safer for the participants – or more exhilarating for the audience. For example, you could take a page out of Maximillian I’s book and provide the knights with special spring-loaded shields that would flow apart if struck in the right place. You could also follow King Edward of England’s example and model your tournament after the béhourd he sponsored in Windsor in 1278: he specified, among other things, that the participants would have to wear cuir bouilli – a type of leather boiled until it was almost as hard as metal – and use wooden shields and whalebone swords.

If you scoff at the lightweight kind of tourneys popular these days, and especially if you care little for pageantry, then a different kind of joust might be more up your alley. The so-called passage of arms, or pas d’armes, is an undertaking to defend a certain place (usually a bridge or a gate) from all comers. It was inspired by various episodes from Arthurian romances, such as the Romance of Yvain by Chrétien de Troyes. In fiction, the knights undertook the defend a bridge, a gate, or a ford in single combat, and, if they were defeated, the winner took their place. Naturally, a real passage of arms plays out somewhat differently – for one thing, the defense only lasts a specified period of time (rarely longer than two weeks), and one defeat in a particular joust does not mean surrender. The most famous example of any knights attempting this kind of endeavor is probably the pas d’armes that Suero de Quinones organized at the Orbigo Bridge in northern Spain for two weeks until the St. James’ Day of 1434. They claimed a plan of breaking 300 lances in total – if they failed, the organizers promised, they would remain there for a further fortnight. They fulfilled that promise, and ended up withdrawing only on the 9th of August – but even with that extra time, they’ve only managed to break 178 lances in total. It’s no mean result, of course – plenty of minor conventional tourneys end in mighty disappointment for the spectators with not a single lance ending up broken at all.

It must be said that, although a passage of arms is a grandiose undertaking, jousting proper usually only takes a couple of hours a day there – in other words, the spectators are likely to be disappointed anyway. Your fellow knights, however, are going to be delighted by the concept – if, of course, they are true connoisseurs of tourneys just like you.

4. Think of the logistics.

The matter might begin with the rules of fighting itself, but it doesn’t end there. If you are in a position to organize a tournament out of your own purse in the first place, you must be the master of the lands where it’s going to be held, so make sure your subjects don’t suffer as a result of the soaring prices that usually accompany such events, not to mention the influx of professional warriors. Fix the prices firmly for the duration of the tournament, especially the prices on bread, fish, and meat; stipulate that no spectators or unarmed persons are to mix with the participants; make sure each gate of the city is manned by about twelve armed men, and station at least five hundred guards around the setting of the tournament itself.

5. Send out invitations.

Sending letters of invite seems to be the most logical course – however, it is also the most excruciating one, given the number of noblemen of fighting age who would be eligible for participation. In your situation, it would be better to contact the organizer of the tourney closest to yours and ask him to have your upcoming event announced there.

You would also do well to contact the tournament societies in your region – if you live in Germany, it’s going to be particularly easy: the whole concept, after all, originated in Bavaria. Tournament societies are essentially permanent tournament teams from different regions. Instead of laboriously summoning individual knights, one could simply issue a challenge from one society to another. Moreover, some societies’ rules even specify that the members have to meet annually at a tournament -it might as well be yours!

6. Think of the theme.

Of course, you don’t have to have a theme – you might want your tournament to simply be a bit of rough, honest fun it used to be in William Marshall’s days. We don’t live in William Marshall’s days anymore, though, and I suspect you wouldn’t want to be outdone by your neighbours.

The most go-to theme are Arthurian legends. It’s the kind of oldie-but-goldie you cannot go wrong with. The fashion was arguably started by Edward I of England, who set out a round table and acted out a number of Arthurian romances with the other noblemen at the feast after the tournament in honour of his daughter’s wedding. That was a far cry from the spectacular Arthurian festival arranged across the Channel by the lords Longueval and Bazentin in Picardy: they had the tournament presided over by ‘Queen Guinevere’, and stipulated that all the attendant knights had to bring a damsel with them. Another member of the theatricals was named as Chevalier au Lyon, who supposedly ‘rescued’ the ladies in ‘Guinevere’s retinue, and even had a real lion with him.

If this is all a bit too out there for you (or, the other way around, too pedestrian – everyone does the Round Table these days!), you could organize the pageantry of the tournament around your heroic ancestor or your sigil – possibly both. For example, the joust that Adolf of Cleves staged in Lille had been inspired by the story of the Cleves’ progenitor, a knight who was miraculously led along the Rhine by a swan and ended up marrying the local princess. During the joust, the ‘Knight of the Swan’ was to take on all challengers.

The procession, to quote the words of a contemporary, included

‘…drummers; and after them a pursuivant of arms dressed in a coat of arms full of swans; after him came a large swan, marvellously and skilfully made, with a crown of gold around its neck, from which hung a shield of the full arms of Cleves; and from this crown hung a golden chain on which, from one end, there hung the shield of the knight; and this swan was flanked by two very well made centaurs who had bows and arrows in their hands, and made as though to shoot at anyone who tried to approach the swan’.

7. Plan the banquet.

Nothing can sour the impression of a great tourney as a meagre banquet afterwards. The need for a generous display of food is self-explanatory – roebucks, suckling pigs, silvered eels, gilded bread, almond soup, kid goats, and the like – however, this is sadly not enough. You also have to think about the entremets.

What are the entremets? To put it simply, everything that is a part of the banquet, but is not edible. I’m not simply talking about straightforward entertainments like music, theatre pieces, or juggling. Entremets can also be elaborate installations for your guests to admire, such as a mini-carrack, exquisitely executed up to the last rope and laden with goods, or a mechanical forest full of strange, if thankfully unmoving, beasts. Even vessels sometimes count – you could have the sweets be contained in little chariots decorated with gold and azure. If you prefer to walk on the wild side, take a page out of Taillevent’s book (quite literally – it’s called Viandier) and construct a fake lion equipped to spout flame: ‘make it with a brass-lined mouth and a thin brass tongue, and with paper teeth glued in the mouth; and put camphor and a little cotton in the mouth and, when it is about to be served before the lords, set fire to this’.

Just don’t do what they did for the Feast of the Pheasant when they’ve made a statue of a naked woman in a large hat who spouted sweetened wine from her breasts for the duration of the dinner. Please.

Sources:

Normore, Christina. A Feast for the Eyes.

Andrew Brown and Graeme Small, Court and Civic Society in the Burgundian Low Countries c. 1420–1530.

Kelcey Wilson-Lee, Daughters of Chivalry: The Forgotten Children of Edward I.

#medieval history #medieval #Middle Ages #history #history geek #writing reference #writing resources #writing ref

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cheershalo · 3 years

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By request, here are some of my favorite angsty fics in order longest to shortest. Some of these are angstier than others but I wanted to give a good range!

*note: make sure to read the tags because some of these deal with heavier topics! take care of yourself!

*also: most of these are b!L because that’s what i like to read! smut or no-smut is marked as well as the basic tags!

Remember to leave kudos and comment on all these lovely fics if you decide to read!!

💔 pray for some sweet simplicity by @eeveelou | E | 237k | abo | b!L - (motorcycles, racer louis, journalist harry, slow burn, a classic)

An AU where motorcycle racing is the biggest sport in a heavily divided world, Louis is trying to take control of his own destiny, and Harry is in for more than he bargained for.

💔 Collision by @tequiladimples | E | 225k | b!L - (mythology/fantasy, fairy louis, dark harry, enemies to lovers, slow burn, love love love)

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

💔 And I Wait for Paradise by You_Just_Mightx3 | NR | 209k | abo | b!L - (addiction, ptsd, pining, best friends to lovers, eventual mpreg, so heartbreaking and heart-wrenchingly beautiful)

The one where it’s not the Harry who touched Louis’ heart that comes home, but an addict thought to be hopeless. A paradise above addiction when Louis wins so does Harry.

💔 Don’t Let It (Me) Break by @falsegoodnight | E | 169k | b!L - (exes to lovers, slow burn, grief, panic attacks, healing/therapy, sad louis, def read tags, a fav of all time)

The one where Harry is oblivious, Louis is broken, Zayn and Liam are in love, Gemma and Lottie are lovely, and Niall is just waiting for everyone to get their shit together.

Oh, and it's all Malcolm's fault.

💔 Saving Symphony Hall by @helloamhere | E | 125k | abo | b!L - (touch depri, businessman louis, hurt/comfort, a fav)

“I think I have an idea,” Louis said. Slowly, and reluctantly, but with a growing sense of the inevitable. “God damnit, I think I have a really good idea.”

“Oh christ, that's the problem-solving face,” Babs said. “Last time we saw that face, he sold a company.”

“Wait, what?” Zayn asked.

“Right place, right time,” Louis said. “Also, fuck my life,”

“What?” Zayn repeated. Niall patted his hand.

“I usually just roll with whatever Louis is about to do,” he said. “It’s better for us all.”

“That’s the attitude,” said Louis, “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, I need to do some research. Zayn, give me your number. I’m gonna save our symphony.”

💔 The Dead of July by whimsicule | M | 117k | b!L - (avengers au, captain america harry, louis as bucky, ptsd, so fucking good)

Harry is Captain America, and Louis’ been dead for 70 years.

💔 Untangle Me by suicxne | E | 103k | np smut - (canon compliant, friends to lovers, first kiss, cute <3)

The one where Harry and Louis finally get it right.

💔 nothing worsens, nothing grows by @soldouthaz | E | 103k | b!L - (roadtrip au, college au, enemies to lovers, friends with benefits, ot5, a fav of all time)

Another roadtrip AU featuring Harry as the misunderstood hipster, Louis as the bitter psych major, Liam as the one with the secret boyfriend, and Niall as the one who just wants everyone to be happy.

💔 Here in the Afterglow by @harrybridgers | NR | 89k | b!L - (high school au, historical, 70s au, small town, slow burn, strangers to friends to lovers, soft soft soft)

1970’s AU. In a tiny town in Idaho, Louis’ life is changed forever by the arrival of a curious stranger.

💔 And down the long and silent street by whimsicule | M | 86k | b!L - (historical au, regency au, poverty, wealth difference, hurt/comfort, a masterpiece <3)

Wherein Louis and Harry are on the opposite ends of the social ladder, but their paths still cross on the filthy streets Louis calls his home. The odds are staked against them from the beginning, and even more when Louis' past finally catches up with him.

💔 Consequences by @allwaswell16 | E | 79k | b!L - (amnesia au, exes to lovers, hurt/comfort, secrets, amazing amazing)

Two years ago Harry let his powerful family come between him and the love of his life, something he deeply regrets. Louis has tried to move on from their devastating break up. Sometimes, he even thinks he has. It only takes one moment to freeze them back in time.

💔 We’ll Cast Some Light (You’ll Be Alright) by @harrybridgers | NR | 74k | b!L - (enemies to lovers, sort of exes to lovers, demons, demon hunters, INCREDIBLE)

There’s a standard procedure for this. Scan, track, kill. But with a solar eclipse and a Greater Demon with unfinished business looming, the path to keeping England safe from harm becomes complicated and shadowed by mystery and secrets. For Harry and his team, times have never been harder, especially when a few old friends turned foes show up. Harry is left with just over forty days to overcome the hurdle of tension between them and reconcile their past, and figure out just what Louis is hiding from him before it’s too late.

💔 Latibule by @quelquesetoiles | E | 54k | b!L - (spirited away au - ish, mythology, fantasy, god harry, human louis, sad louis, jealousy, amazing)

A Spirited Away AU of sorts where Louis just wants to heal and be left alone, only for all his plans to be destroyed by the hands of an infuriating British God.

💔 7 Up by @cherrystreet | E | 52k | b!L - (friends to lovers, growing up together, will make you cry like a baby, a classic)

Very loosely based on the British TV show "The Up Series" and somewhat inspired by the song “Something I Need” by Onerepublic, we follow the lives of Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson in an interview setting every seven years. They fall apart and come together, their lives and emotions recorded. Harry calls it a time capsule. Louis calls it a pain in the arse.

💔 Strangers in Love by @darlou | E | 42k | b!L - (amnesia au, car accidents, light d/s, growing up together, enemies to lovers, a fav)

Louis wakes up to find himself in a marriage with the last man he thought he'd ever end up with.

💔 Ever Fixed by @eeveelou | E | 42k | b!L - (strangers to lovers, divorce, depression, child death, the plot twist GOT ME SO GOOD - i read this yesterday with ris and h o l y s h i t)

Three years ago, Harry was happily married, successfully heading the largest technology company in the world, and raising his young daughter. After he loses nearly everything in the aftermath of his daughter’s lost battle with a rare brain tumor, it may take three strange and yet very familiar visitors – and a man from the therapy group Harry keeps refusing to go to – to get him back on track.

💔 before we knew by @falsegoodnight | E | 40k | b!L - (soulmate au, lawyer harry, editor louis, stubborn harry, pining louis, literally one of the best fics ever written)

Louis has been skeptical of soulmates for years so it seems like fate when he finally bumps into the owner of the obnoxiously large signature printed into his skin since age sixteen: Harry Styles, a human rights attorney who is firmly against soulmates.

💔 where the lights are beautiful by twoshipsdrifting | M | 31k | abo | b!L - (THE accidental bonding fic, mentions of mpreg, have reread many times and it still hurts so good)

Harry wasn’t wrong about that, not in a general sense. Lots of omegas did seek out rich alphas and betas, hoping or planning to go into heat at the right time. Plenty of omegas saw this as their duty, especially if their families weren’t well off. Worse, Louis couldn’t honestly say he’d never thought about it.

If that had been his life, his goal, Louis would feel pretty good about himself now.

As it is…Louis feels like shit.

💔 autumn leaves by @suspendrs | NR | 28k | b!L - (war au, soldier harry, waiter louis, french louis, friends to lovers, so so good)

Harry is an American soldier in France during World War II, and Louis is a French waiter that doesn't mean to fall in love with him.

💔 Cherry by littlebluetui | M | 25k | b!L - (exes to lovers, famous harry, non-famous louis, comfort sex, light d/s, really good & really underrated!)

Harry and Louis were soulmates, no one doubted that.

Sometimes one soulmates leaves the other to go on a world tour though.

Sometimes not having them at all is better than only a little.

💔 like a bastard on the burning sea by vashtaneradas | NR | 22k | implied b!L - (cheating/infidelity - i don’t read cheating fics as a principle but this one just... hurts so good, haven’t reread and i don’t think i ever will but i think about it often)

Harry breaks Louis, Louis breaks everything.

💔 all this delusion in our heads by buttfucklarry | E | 15k | b!L - (exes to lovers, sad louis, sad harry, mentions of mpreg, another underrated beaut <3)

After Harry and Louis break up, they cope with it in very different ways. What will happen when Harry keeps calling his ex over when things go wrong in his life, but Louis just can't take it anymore?

💔 a grocery list pinned in blue by dangerbears | NR | 20k | b!L - (exes to lovers, divorce, a masterpiece truly)

After eight years, Louis finally has everything he's wanted. Except for Harry.

💔 Cupid’s Chokehold by bluelemur | E | 35k | b!L - (soulmate au, cupid louis, human harry, virgin louis, feel good but also a bit angsty)

Louis is a Cupid who tries to match up Niall and Harry. It doesn't work out as planned.

💔 Love is like this; not a heartbeat, but a moan by @loveletterharry | E | 13k | abo | b!L - (enemies to lovers, ex-childhood best friends, pining harry, beach house, lovely)

In which Harry loves Louis, but Louis has been cold to him ever since he presented as an omega at age fifteen.

Eight years later, Louis approaches Harry with a request, and who is Harry to deny him?

Remember again to leave kudos and comment on all these lovely masterpieces! And feel free to let me know if I made any errors!

Request another category here.

#my fic rec lists #angst recs #categories #jem's favs

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pixelatte · 3 years

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"Paint Peeling"

Summary: Zhou Zishu drinking and dining with his found family in the Si Ji Pavilion.

A/N: Haven't written in a while! Excuse the sloppiness (and the shit summary) because this is the product of 3 a.m. brain rot. Also, idk how to format text in the mobile app.

The scent of sandalwood permeates the air as the curtains sway with the whispers of the late afternoon breeze. Zhou Zishu is reclining on a chair, immersed in meditation, when the door opens.

The sight that greets him is a familiar one; he knows that silhouette haloed by soft sunlight too well. Even if his vision has become a blur of colors, he can tell that its Wen Kexing. Nobody can swagger around with that much confidence but him.

Zhou Zishu squints a little, hoping to catch the details of Wen Kexing's refined features: the subtle lift of his lips as he smiles, the slight creases in the corners of his eyes as his pupils shine in happiness. But it is futile effort. Zhou Zishu cannot see, not to the extent that he wants to at least. He does not sigh but the urge to do so is there.

There is an abundance of affection in the other man's greeting. "A-Xu," Wen Kexing says, and immediately Zhou Zishu is glad that he can hear the voice that he loves so much.

Zhou Zishu shakes his head and huffs, crossing his arms. "What is it this time?"

There is a clink of ceramic. Another jar of wine.

"Let's drink," Wen Kexing suggests.

Wen Kexing's preferences are as exquisite as the man himself. Zhou Zishu does not confess that he cannot taste the alcohol anymore. That its quality is wasted on him, but Wen Kexing's enthusiasm compels him to swallow his disappointment.

Zhou Zishu glances at the window towards the smudges of orange and deep red. "Isn't it too early?" He cocks an eyebrow, curious.

"Coming from you?" Wen Kexing asks and then adds, "Never. It's never too early for you."

Zhou Zishu shrugs, his outer robe parting and falling off his left shoulder, but does not disagree. It is true, after all. He finds comfort in his routines, and sharing a drink with Wen Kexing is one of them. Besides, Wen Kexing has occupied the vacant seat adjacent to his. It is too late to refuse.

They are elbow-to-elbow and the heat radiating from Wen Kexing is soothing. He is blindsided by the desire to close the miniscule distance between them, but he does not. Instead, he settles for observing Wen Kexing as he pours for both of them.

As always, Wen Kexing serves him first.

Zhou Zishu raises his cup in a toast and Wen Kexing returns the gesture. The alcohol is gone in one gulp. There is a stinging sensation in Zhou Zishu's throat, but nothing registers on his tongue.

Wen Kexing comments, "it's good."

Usually, Zhou Zishu has an input on Wen Kexing's offering, but tonight, he stays silent.

Because of his reticent nature, Wen Kexing does not catch onto his facade. Then again, Wen Kexing is no fool. A martial artist of Wen Kexing's calibre must have noticed his symptoms. Aside from bleeding from his orifices, his recent dizzy spells have become so obvious that even Zhang Chengling - that ignorant, little idiot - has been throwing him worried glances.

If that is the case, then Wen Kexing may be as good of a pretender as Zhou Zishu is.

Wen Kexing takes his pause as a cue to continue. Between his sips, he rattles on and on about literature, dredging up obscure poetic references about star-crossed lovers. Of course, Zhou Zishu lets Wen Kexing drag him into the discussion, although he is less interested in the language of romance that Wen Kexing is fond of.

Neither of them is a lightweight, so Wen Kexing talks while Zhou Zishu listens, patiently and attentively. There are snatches of information that Wen Kexing discloses once in a while, and it is up to Zhou Zishu to collect them - random pieces of the puzzle that is Wen Kexing. Zhou Zishu does not have the complete picture yet, but he is willing to wait for Wen Kexing to open up his shuttered heart.

It is a dangerous gamble, Zhou Zishu thinks, but he has two years left to be with Wen Kexing, who claims himself to be other half of his soul. A pity because soulmates are rare in this world, and for them to meet under these circumstances is pure torture. However, it is also a blessing.

Zhou Zishu has spent his days slaughtering innocents in the name of an ambitious master, witnessing his sect crumble under the fruitless struggle for power, and drowning in the crushing weight of his guilt.

There is no atonement for him even in death, so he has decided to embed the nails onto his body as penance. He will not bow to the gods for absolution; he is not worthy. The effects of the punishment are his burdens to bear.

And yet, hope has blossomed in the form of Wen Kexing, Zhang Chengling, and that mysterious immortal, Ye Baiyi. Perhaps there is a chance for him to turn over a new leaf. He understands that there is no miracle cure all for his ailment, but they rely on him so much that their desperation is bleeding into him.

He wonders, how much is he willing to compromise and surrender so he can keep this family of his? Certainly, they are an unconventional trio, but they slot together seamlessly - as if their roads have been predestined to converge. The trials that they have endured must have been the price to pay for the slice of heaven that they have here in the Si Ji Pavilion. It comforts him that the ghost of his home has become their sanctuary.

Zhou Zishu does not realize that he has zoned out. The moment he emerges from his reverie, Wen Kexing is staring at him, in that straightforward manner of his. It is not without heat because Wen Kexing is passionate to the core, but there is a thread of dread there, barely breaking through the veneer of flirtatiousness.

Thankfully, there are footsteps on the patio to distract both of them.

"Shifu, shishu," Zhang Chengling salutes, "It's time for dinner." He does not enter without their permission, lingering outside and carrying a tray of food.

The brat's balance has improved, Zhou Zishu notes with satisfaction.

In between his martial arts training, Zhang Chengling has also learned how to cook under Wen Kexing's efficient tutelage. Zhou Zishu is a menace in the kitchen, piling chilis into the dishes that he whips up(1), much to Wen Kexing's and Zhang Chengling's mutual mortification. He has been banned from offending their delicate palettes and wasting ingredients ever since.

"Come in, come in," Wen Kexing orders, his sleeves fluttering as he ushers their disciple in.

'Their disciple,' Zhou Zishu repeats to himself, and he has to stop himself from inhaling too sharply. It is a sentiment that surprises him, even months after he has officially inducted Zhang Chengling as his first disciple. It is too surreal.

Zhang Chengling is setting their bowls and chopsticks, and arranging their meal on the table. In the beginning, he has floundered around with his errands, earning a reprimand from Wen Kexing here and there. Being a young master from a prestigious sect, learning these practical skills has not be a necessity for him. He is a reflection of Zhou Zishu's younger self, pampered and sheltered, the opposite of Wen Kexing's ruined childhood.

The bitterness of the opportunities lost between him and Wen Kexing is too potent, and his mask cracks for a second.

"A-Xu, what's wrong?" Wen Kexing inquires, and immediately Zhou Zishu hates how transparent he has become.

"Shifu?" Zhang Chengling echoes the concern in Wen Kexing's voice.

Zhou Zishu is frowning at them, but the sentiment behind it is one of tenderness. "I'll be fine," is what he settles for.

These days, he has been alternating between his physical and emotional pains, only to be soothed by their presence. He does not tell them that the nails are dulling his senses, but he does not hide the signs of his internal injuries anymore. He allows them to fuss over him until their nervous energy is spent. Strangely, it is a cathartic and therapeutic exercise for all of them.

Both Wen Kexing and Zhang Chengling accept his admission, albeit with great reluctance. Neither of them pressure him for answers, and he is grateful for their consideration. None of them will betray the semblance of trust that they have established, regardless of the secrets that remain hidden.

When Zhang Chengling passes Zhou Zishu his portion, he is assailed by the scent of spices. Ah, what a filial child Zhang Chengling has become.

Meanwhile, Wen Kexing is tutting in distaste. He demands, "Why is the master being spoiled by the disciple?"

The thought of Wen Kexing's irritation over seasonings - seasonings, ha! - almost startles a laugh out of Zhou Zishu, but the wet rattle of blood in his chest prevents him from doing so. Instead, he grabs onto Wen Kexing's arm and squeezes it to pacify him. Wen Kexing wilts instantaneously, melting into the touch.

Zhou Zishu is not a tactile person, but he is aware of Wen Kexing's craving for constant contact. If it is the hand holding, the hair combing, the hugging that comforts Wen Kexing and chases the phantoms of his past away, then Zhou Zishu will indulge him.

Likewise, Zhang Chengling is so attuned to the fluctuations in their moods that he either leaves them to their own devices or wiggles himself into the embrace. The teen has become as shameless and ridiculous as Wen Kexing.

They fill the empty spaces of the Si Ji Pavilion with their activities, eclipsing the shadows of Zhou Zishu's discipline brothers and sisters. The nails are a curse - a permanent reminder of their sacrifice - but if Wen Kexing and Zhang Chengling can rouse him from his nightmares, then that is enough.

In his life that is as fragile as glass, Zhou Zishu is content.

(1) Inspired by Zhang Zhehan's cooking. I saw a clip where he put so much chili and pepper that he ended up choking and coughing on the fumes. ZZH, the spicy child!

#word of honor #wenzhou #wen kexing #zhou zishu #zhang chengling #fanfic

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Calling to join them the wretched and joyful

Summary: An ancient game is played in the forest of Asgard by the noblemen. To the winners, go the spoils.

Warnings: noncon sex (oral, fucking), magick.

Note: A Loki one shot I’ve been meaning to write. It’s is vaguely inspired by Richard Connell’s The Most Dangerous Game but obvi I gotta make it kinky. Lol. Thanks for reading <3

Hope y’all enjoy. Like and/or reblog!! <3 Reblogs really help.

It was one of those cool summer mornings that foretells of autumn. The sun was yet to rise but the sky was woven in a rich blue. The trees clung to the night and loomed over the line of shivering women, scared and shivering in thin shifts.

You were one of the eight. Confused and silent as guards in golden armor watched over you with spear and sword. You wondered how much of a threat you could be; unarmed and exhausted.

They came in the night. Your mother clung to you as the guards tore you from her. Your sister Bera hid in the closet. Your mother could not lose two daughters. You bid her a frantic goodbye as your father held her back.

Your family's name had been drawn for the leikr. Rumours were whispered but they were easy to doubt; easy to dismiss without a royal proclamation. The ancient rite was abolished years ago but the new king brought back many other archaic laws. It seemed this was just another dusty scroll put back on the table.

Many thought Thor was a beacon of light after Odin's death but he quickly crushed the hopes of the people. The poor paid more to the rich and the aristocracy thrived on corruption and greed. The leikr was another of their little games. Another pleasure carried on the backs of peasants.

You crossed your arms and peered down the line of woman. Tilly, the butcher's daughter was there, her golden hair loose down her back. Hildi, a girl you knew from the market, too. Her round green eyes shone with tears. Yrsa, the statuesque redhead, was an only daughter; her parents would be distraught. The other girls you didn't know but they were from the same neighbourhood; the same streets that turned bleak in the eclipse of kings.

Before they led you out before the brush, the riki forest shadowy and ominous behind you, they brought you to the palace. The lower floors where the servants slept and worked. You were stripped of your sandals, if you wore any, and all but your thin sleeping gowns.

None of the woman dared speak, not since you had. A single question, a reasonable "what are you doing?" earned you a gauntlet cross your cheek. You felt the dried blood around the small cut, the swelling of the bruised flesh. The others looked to you when they thought to speak up and quickly forgot their words.

Finally, the dirt stirred and the approach of horses sounded. The voices of men and snorts of horses broke the eerie still of the morning. You shivered in time with the other women. Tilly sniffed and Hildi covered her face.

"Enough," A guard approached Tilly. "The king doesn't want to see your tears." He moved along and ripped Hildi's hands from her face. "Stand straight. When your king arrives, you bow your head and keep quiet."

He shoved Hildi's arm down and stepped back. You watched as the nobles appeared along the wide path. The King's golden hair streamed over his shoulders, the waves soft and thick. His men Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun kept their horses just a foot behind his. They laughed as they led the others into the clearing before the Riki.

The guards stood at alert as Thor drew his horse up and the other men lined up beside him. Volstagg made lewd jokes to Hogun as his eyes devoured the women stood before the trees. Fandral shook his head with a smirk as he passed and brought his steed into order. The other nobles chattered here and there as they followed suit. Many stared overtly at the thinly clad peasants.

Tilly leaned on Yrsa and whispered that she would faint. The redhead nudged the blond onto her feet and warned her to keep in line. You snapped your head forward and lowered it as you recalled the guard’s orders.

You peeked up at the last of the nobles. Lords Broddi, Reinn, and Ornulf leered at the trembling women and Prince Loki brought up the rear with a lazy glance towards the forest. You lowered your eyes and braced yourself for what was to come.

"Ladies," Thor greeted above the din. The men laughed, amused at lowly women receiving such a title from the king. "Welcome to the leikr. Your families have been honoured, chosen by the gods, and yourselves are the anointed."

The words made your blood curdle and you clasped your hands together. You bit down and snarled at the malice hidden behind pretty words. The leikr had long been the terror of wives tales; an ancient barbarism meant for storybooks. Even Odin had decried it.

"Before the day is over, you will be blessed with glorious purpose. To serve your sacred king and his lords, each borne of gods' blood."

You looked up again as the fury seared your veins. You glared at the king and your gaze drifted down the line of smug nobles. Some whispered and pointed to the woman they preferred. At the end of the line, your eyes met with another's.

Loki, to that point disinterested, noticed your silent loathing. His brow arched as he tilted his head and you quickly bowed your chin once more. You peeked over at the other women, cowering on bare feet and prone in barely there linen.

"But first there is the fun part. The selection, the game." Thor carried on. "You will have an hour to yourselves. To run, to hide. Should any remain undiscovered till the next dawn, they shall be allowed back to their former lot. Unchosen and unclaimed, you will not be bound by the law of the leikr."

The men chuckled again. That had never happened. None had yet evaded the leikr.

"Thus, without further ado, I shall appease my men's impatience, and declare the leikr begun." Thor announced. "Your hour commences now."

Silence rose around you. You looked to the other girls as they turned to each other in confusion. You turned back to the men, entertained by the clueless women, and your heart seized. You spun around and raced towards the trees. In a moment, several others followed as you plunged into the depths of the forest. The guffaws and shouts of the men rose and faded behind you.

You were lost. Not that it mattered. Perhaps the best thing that could happen was to lose yourself so entirely that none could find you. To perish out here, perhaps was a better fate than to be found.

You heard horses before and quickly charged in the opposite direction. Your stomach plummeted as you ignored the calls of other women when they found themselves sighted. You felt grimy beyond the mud on your feet. This was a self-serving game all around.

Out of breath, you came upon an arm of the river that pooled beneath a great oak. You were thirsty and unconcerned by the water's quality. It looked clear enough. You neared edge and cupped a hand to dip into the depths.

As you sipped from your palm, you heard it. The snap of a twig. Distant but close enough. You blinked and peered around at the wraith-like trees. You heard a hoof and then another. You held in the gasp as you tried to measure the direction of the approach.

You couldn't tell as all noise seemed to surround you. You lowered yourself onto your bottom and eased into the water, careful not to make too much commotion. It was cold against your hot skin and your feet met the silty bottom.

You moved carefully towards the base of the tree, beneath a hole that housed the wild. A bear could sleep there but worse predators chased you. You reached the twisted roots curled beneath the lip of the cave and stepped into the darkness.

You turned and covered your chattering teeth. The hooves grew closer, the twigs snapped, the dirty crunched, the clink of metal sharpened. You waited as you listened to their approach. The sound of boots on the ground as they dismounted.

Whoever it was made careful inspection of the river's edge. The water swirled softly around you and you clung to a gnarled root to keep yourself still. A subtle splash of water as they stooped to drink as you had.

Then, another set of hooves sounded. The panting of a horse as it came upon the shore. "Brother," It must have been Loki as you knew Thor's voice but not his. "Tired already?"

"This is a hunt, you know it is more than just riding around. We must track our game." Thor replied. "Thought I heard something but it must've been a critter."

"Mmm," The second-born hummed.

"I wanted the blond. The one with the teary eyes but Volstagg claimed her before I could."

"Pathetic thing. Not worthy of a king." Loki remarked. "Who do you seek now?"

"The redhead perhaps." Thor answered. "Nice hips. I wouldn't mind a bastard. And you? Have you a fancy for any or do you only come to humour me?"

"This is not my type of game," Loki said. "By rite, I have come along but my preference remains uninspired."

"Oh brother, I know you." Thor returned. "Unlike the others, I saw your pique." Thor grunted as he climbed back on his horse. "That plain one. The angry one. You might just have her because the other men barely noticed the creature."

"They are all the same to me," Loki chuckled. "I think I shall enjoy this little ride through the forest and see if perhaps this year the leikr will see a woman free."

"Mischievous as you are, you cannot lie to me, brother." You listened as the hooves moved slowly through the dirt. "Come on. Follow the river and we will surely stumble upon one soon. The sun grows hot and the air stolid. They will thirst."

“After you,” Loki intoned and you waited for their horses to trot away. The brothers called after each other and you stayed a little longer in the water. Making sure they were truly gone.

When you climbed out, your shift was soaked to your chest and you shivered as you dragged yourself up onto the dirty shore. Streaks of mud lined your nightgown and you crossed your arms as the late afternoon sun slipped through the leaves above and warmed your damp skin.

You began in the direction opposite to where the royal brothers had departed. You climbed up around the great oak and looked off into the untrodden brush behind. Your feet were sore already, scratched and raw from the forest floor. The branches above were thicker and closer together, slowly blotting out the sun the deeper your went.

Ten, maybe twelve feet into the woody umbrage, you heard it. Like a whisper. The subtle whish of fabric around the lithe figure. You turned slowly to face the green eyes as they shone in the dim. You sighed and took a step back as Loki grinned at you.

“My illusions tend to work on the untrained eye, though my brother is just as gullible,” He began. “You couldn’t see me though so how were you to know?”

You continued backward, feeling out each step with your feet. He followed at a similar pace.

“You said you did not like this game,” You said. “So why seek me out?”

“What I say is not always as I feel,” He reached up an unclasped his rich green cloak. “You’re cold. If you come with me, you will be warm. For so long as you wish.”

“I don’t wish it,” You insisted as you continued to walk back into the thickening brush. “I’d rather freeze.”

“Those other men are just lords. I am a prince,” He declared. “Would you rather be used for the night and discarded in the morning. What is left to the leikr woman but a life of whoredom?”

“There are seven other girls.”

“Two. The others were not so clever.” He corrected. “My brother will catch the red head soon enough and the black-haired baker’s daughter isn’t very quick.”

“You could go and let me disappear here. Walk away from the leikr for your boredom---”

“No, I cannot. To be the first to walk away without a prize would be worse than any shame thrust upon me by my brother.” He took a big step and you did too. “Come on, pet,” He held out his cloak. “This needn’t be tedious.”

You stared at him, searching for an ounce of empathy. There was none to be had in his gemlike eyes. You turned and dove into the trees only to be stopped by something quite solid. You looked up as the hands closed around your upper arms and held you in place.

Loki smirked as you glanced over your shoulder at the emptiness behind you. He had his cloak on his shoulders again but his eyes were no longer so hollow. You cringed as you realized his deception. The trickery he was known for. How easy you’d fallen for it.

“I am not of the mood to run after you any longer,” He said. “So come with me timidly or I shall drag you from here kicking and screaming. Your choice will be met with appropriate consequences.”

“Let me go!” You pushed against him. “You monster. You pretend not to be but you are as vile as the rest of them.”

He laughed as you struggled against his unyielding grip. He bent as he slid his hands down your arms and scooped you up over his shoulder in a single motion. You cried out and beat on his back as he carried you back towards the great oak. He was cautious on the decline that led around to the tree and when he came onto even ground, his steps were more swift.

He whistled and the black stallion he rode emerged from the trees, a blade of grass stuck to its lip. He neared the beast and as he rounded it, the beast sniffed your hair and huffed its hot breath down your neck. He chuckled and flipped you up onto your feet. He held your wrist as he stirred with his other hand in his saddlebag. You tried to wrench away from him but only twisted your own arm painfully.

He pulled out a rope and turned you easily and pressed you against the side of the horse. You could smell the stable, the leaves, and sweat of the stallion. He wound the length around your wrists so tightly you were certain your fingers would balloon. He took another and wrapped it around your ankles until you were bound up firmly.

He spun you back to face him and you threatened to topple over. He caught your shoulder and you leaned against the horse. He reached into his bag again as the steed dipped his head to chew on the thin grass.

“Myrkr doesn’t usually like strangers,” He mused as he pulled out a bundle. “Are you hungry?”

You sneered at him and said nothing.

“Well, if you don’t eat now, you’ll not eat for hours to come.” He warned. “So you can sit and let me feed you. A small respite before your duty begins or you can starve and wallow in misery.”

You shrugged and lowered your head. You didn’t care either way. Your appetite wasn’t especially ravenous despite your hours of running. He tucked the bundle under his arm and grabbed your elbow. He led you around the horse as you hopped clumsily. He sat you down in the dirt and unwrapped his fare.

He knelt and watched you, his face foretold of unspoken remarks. He offered you a heel of bread, holding it as you took a bite. Inner musings that irked you more and more. You watched the river just feet away and imagined yourself washing away with the stream. You chewed but didn’t taste the grainy loaf.

“I am most pleased I didn’t pursue that moping mess of a mouse,” He said as he cut a small piece of cheese from the aged chunk. “How interesting you are, pet. Even as you look away, I can feel the loathing.” Your eyes flicked to him as he offered you the cheese. “That won’t last long, I promise.”

The other girls were filthier. Evening set as you came upon the clearing. Loki had you across the saddle as he led his stallion from the path. Tilly wept as she sat on the ground. Her face was red with tears and the bright hand mark across her cheek. Each woman was separated from the others, waiting beside the horse of their respective captor.

Yrsa’s dress was torn and exposed her milky breasts. She stood with her eyes to the ground, her wrists in golden cuffs. The king sent lurid glances her way as he japed with his men. They turned as Loki appeared from the trees, his expression blank, his steps even and unhurried. Thor laughed and boomed as his brother approached.

“I knew you would catch her, brother,” He hollered. “Late but not lost.”

“Do not fret for me. We both know you’d not have caught the scarlet haired wench were it not for my sharp eye.” Loki returned.

Thor sighed and turned back to his men. “Well, I declare this leikr foremost a success and secondly, at an end. At least, the game itself. We have some fun ahead of us, don’t we men.”

The lords laughed and you winced. You looked around as best you could at the other woman. They were pulled from their silent surrender back to reality. Some were tied like you, others were too weak to resist, too scared. They were lifted and slung over saddles like you as the men mounted and settled in.

Loki climbed up behind you in kind, shifting you closer to the horse’s shoulders. He waited as the others kicked their steeds into step before he did the same. He kept to the rear, you felt a tickle along your arm. He held the reins with one hand as his other traced between your shoulders and down your spine.

“You see,” He kept his voice low, “It could be worse. The blonde won’t be able to walk tomorrow and when she does, she’ll work the streets where she was raised. The red-haired beauty might warm my brother’s bed for more than a night but only until he finds his next delight.”

You didn’t say a word. Your stomach hurt as you bounced with the movement of the horse. Loki’s fingers played with the dirty fabric along your hip.

“Be good and I’ll not send you to the gutter.” He continued. “You could be a maid, or a cook. If I like you enough...well, we will wait for promises.”

The rest of the ride was spent in silence. Painful because of your position, more so due to your predicament. When at last the palace came into sight and the horses followed the road to the rear gate, the night bloomed completely. The moon shone in a half crescent and winked above you as the horse continued to jostle your body.

There was a flurry as the men entered the courtyard and attendants rushed to aid their returning masters. Loki dropped down with a lingering touch along your side. He handed the reins to a small boy with straw like hair and patted his shoulder. Servants emerged and offered refreshments to the nobles who left their prizes with their steeds.

Each woman was pulled down without grace and rushed in away from the lords. Your binds were left as they were and you hopped behind the rest of them. Inside the palace, it was dark and a scurry of skirts and aprons surrounded you. Your feet were cut loose but your hands left tied.

The parade of dirtied women was led down a flight of stairs and along a lower corridor. At each, a woman was left with a couple servants and closed up behind the dungeon like doors. You were the last, filled with the same panic more overtly displayed by the others. You were herded inside and two servants remained within as the lock was bolted into place.

“Get her in the tub,” The elder of the two commanded the other. “She’s filthy.”

Neither would look at you as they went about their work. The younger loosed your hands and you stood numb. The shock set in, the grim acceptance crawled down your spine. You were undressed roughly as the room blurred and made your head spin.

“The prince has arranged everything. Make her as presentable as you can.” The older servant explained.

“The prince seeks a lover at last and he chooses her?” The other bemoaned.

“Quiet, girl,” The other retorted. “You think he would want for you? Be her a commoner herself, do not envy her lot.”

The other pursed her lips and stayed silent as she shook her head at her companion. You let them lead you to the large metal tub and you stepped into the steamy water. As you lowered yourself, the fog filled your mind and added to the sudden haze. This could not be.

When the women finished washing you, they dressed you in a sheer green gown and gold sandals. They styled your hair and powdered your bruised face. Dark liner around your eyes and the rosy lip stain made you feel inhuman.

You weren't you anymore, you thought, you were his.

They placed a black rope over the sultry green attire and the door was unlocked at their tapping. You'd heard other doors before, small voices, frightened and pleading. You gulped down your fear and tried not to shake. You wouldn't go with cowardice but with stubborn defiance. Defy the fates and their efforts to crush you.

A twisted stairwell, hidden behind a small door, wound up and up and up. The higher corridors were brighter, lit by golden lamps, lined in red carpet and intricate tapestry. Empty given the hour but you imagined it bustled with gossip and pretension in daylight's grace.

You were stopped at another door. The older servant knocked and the handle clicked. No answer came and you felt a gentle nudge.

"Go on. He will not wait long." The old maid said. "Best not to test his patience."

You took a breath and reached for the handle. She waited for you to open the door and as you stepped inside she reached to grab the golden handle after you. She waited until you were past the threshold and pulled it shut.

You turned and looked around. Your ears rang in the silence, the closing of the door echoed in your head. It was a receiving chamber, a large desk faced you, a grand chair behind it. Green velvet covered chair and sofa, tables of ebony complimented the rich decorations.

"This way, pet," You looked to Loki as he leaned on the door frame to your left. He wore a pair of black silk pants and nothing more. "Unless you prefer the desk to a bed."

You frowned and hesitated before your body responded. Don't let him see you quake. You neared him and he offered his hand to you. You stared at his palm, his slender fingers, his snare-like hand. You took it without a word.

"You look better," He said. "Not so plain now."

You kept your eyes averted as he led you through the door. You looked at carpet, canopy, and curtain before you dared turn to him. As immaculate as the first room. He released you as he let you precede him. He pulled the door closed after him.

"A drink? Wine?" He ventured. "I could send for ale."

You shook your head and he tutted. He caught your wrist before you could move further from him. He turned you to face him.

"You'll have to use your words. I am still a prince and you are still a peasant. ‘Your grace’ or ‘my prince should do’." He smirked. "I prefer the latter."

"I am not thirsty, my grace," You said.

"Eager?" He teased.

You tried to pull away but he was stronger than he looked. He might be slimmer than his brother but certainly not weaker. He unballed your fist with his other hand and placed it flat against his chest. You felt the muscle and at last let yourself look.

"Remove your robe," He released you and stepped away.

You noticed the way the silk twitched along his crotch. He backed away and sat in a chair by the small round table. He reached for his crystal goblet and drank.

"Your grace."

You pulled loose the belt and the robe fell open. You let it slip down from your shoulders and folded it over your arm.

"On the chair," He arched a brow as he set aside his cup. "I'd like a good look at you."

You draped the robe over the back of the other chair and stepped back. You knew the light from the sconces thinned the material and bared all. You stood before him, stiff as you fought not to quiver.

"Well," He leaned on his elbow. "You look ravishing in green, pet."

Your lips were straight but you forced them apart. "Thank you, your grace."

"Let's work on your obedience." He said. "You can try to hide it but I see that little spark. So let's see how good a pet you can be."

"Your grace."

"I hear it too," He chimed. "Sounds a lot like a curse when you say it."

You cleared your throat and repeated yourself. He chuckled.

"Take the dress off." He ordered. "I want to see all of you."

You gave him his title again and inhaled. You reached to slip the straps from your shoulders. You didn't look at Loki, rather past him. Every inch of flesh bared made it harder not to shudder.

You paused before you let the fabric below your chest and over your stomach. You bent to step out of the skirts and stood with the dress in hand. You relinquished the gown to the chair with the robe and kicked the sandals from your feet.

Your turned again to Loki and waited. He didn't move but you felt his gaze. Heard his breath as it wisped between his lips.

"Get down. On your knees." You swallowed and obeyed. "Now…" He pushed his legs apart and his hand rubbed along his thigh, just around his arousal. "Crawl to me, pet."

You blanched and met his eyes. He grinned and pushed his shoulders back. Your jaw tensed as you bit down. Your anger burned through your humiliation and fear. You hated this. You hated him.

"Let me warn you, I do not like to repeat myself so if you insist on disobedience, I will bend you to my will with more than words."

You slowly let yourself down onto your hands. You didn't look away as you began to crawl across the carpet. You stopped before him and waited. You peered up at him and felt another surge within.

"Good pet," He purred and lifted himself slightly from the chair. He lifted the silk over his lap and past his arousal. He sat back as his cock stood against his stomach, just above the top of the black pants. "Now, I want you to put that scowling little mouth of yours to use."

You sat back on your heels and finally you had to look away. You knew what he was asking. You'd done it once with Brenn, the smith just down the road from your father. It hadn't gone much further once you met his wife. The introduction being his first allusion to his marriage.

You grabbed Loki's thighs and drew yourself close. Your fingers stretched over the silk. You wanted it done with. He said if you were good, you could live as a servant. You might not be left to the streets; discarded and disgraced.

You slid your hand over and gripped the base of his cock. He was thicker than you expected. Long, too. The veins stood out against your palm and he groaned as you bent your head over his lap.

You hovered your lips over his tip and when you touched his cock, you slowly parted them. Just the tip at first, you swirled your tongue and pulled back, easing him in and out. You teased the most sensitive part of him and he gripped the arms of the chair.

"Oho, you've...done this before." He breathed.

You didn't stop. You had to keep going because once you stopped, you wouldn't be able to go on. You took a little more of him and his hum rose with delight. You pressed tongue to his shaft and moved up and down his length until your mouth met your hand. Then you worked them in tandem.

He squirmed and his hand went to the back of your head. "Oh, pet, you are surpri--sing.” He gasped. "More. More. Take all of me."

He reached down and pulled on your arm until your hand slipped away. He pushed your head down until you choked and held you at your limit. Your nails dug into his thigh but he only seemed to enjoy the pain.

When he relented you pulled back but not entirely. You kept your lips around him and carried on. You let his hand guide your head and bobbed up and down his length. Your jaw ached as the saliva gathered and dripped down his cock.

"Gods," He swore and fisted your hair.

He pulled you off him and grabbed his cock. He stroked himself as he slid forward on the chair and held your head back. You closed your eyes as he grunted and his cum spurted across your face, along your nose and lips and across your cheek.

He let go as he finished and fell back in his chair. He panted and you opened your eyes. There was cum on his pants too and you reached to wipe away that on your face.

"Don't," He warned. "Leave it. A prince's seed is gift. You should wear it with pride."

He grabbed the arms of the chair and pushed himself to his feet. You fell back onto your ass as he stood, he hadn't softened at all. He pushed his pants down until they fell to his ankles and stepped out of them and strode past you. He looked around the room as he rubbed his chin.

"My pet, I can't decide where to fuck you," He taunted. "Shall I bend you over the bed? Maybe take you on your back? Perhaps against the wall?" He put his hands on his hips and turned to once more present his erection to you. "Tell me, are you wet?"

You shook your head. A lie. He laughed and dropped his hands.

"No?" He neared. "Show me then. Touch yourself and show me how dry you are."

"Your grace," You croaked and your hand felt heavy as pushed it between your legs. You were sopping and when you pulled away, your fingers glistened in the glow of the chamber.

"Do not lie to me, pet," He grabbed your wrist and yanked you up to your feet. He forced your hand up and shoved your fingers into his mouth as he sucked your juices off them. "Delicious."

He released you and played with himself as he once more considered the room and walked to the side of the bed.

"Get on the bed. On your knees." He pointed to the wide mattress. "Back to me."

You walked towards him and stood between him and the bed. You climbed up before him and walked forward on your knees until you were just past the edge. You stopped and waited.

The mattress dipped behind you as he got up too. He pressed himself to your back, his cock bobbed against your ass. He snaked his arm around you and slowly inched down your stomach and along your vee. He forced his hand between your legs and rubbed you with two fingers.

His other hand came around and grasped your chest. He held you against him and toyed with your nipple and clit at the same time. Your breath picked up, a tell, and he bent to nuzzle your head.

"Oh, pet, I told you it wouldn't last," He twirled his fingers. "You want me. You can hate me but you want me too."

You gritted your teeth as he plucked at your nerves. As your shallow breaths turned to barely muffled moans and your body buzzed against his. You twitched and your hand pressed against his as he stirred your body to a boil. You came with a spasm and a squeak and he purred into your hair.

"I want it too. I didn't. I thought this game was a joke but I want you, pet." He reached between you and gripped his cock. He led it along your ass and leaned into you. "I want to feel you around me."

He slipped down along your entrance as his other hand fell to your pelvis. He pushed until you were forced to arch your back. His tip tickled your folds and he guided it with his fingers.

He rested the head of his cock there and pressed until you stretched around his tip. He gasped and you did too. You couldn't resist the ache in your walls that called for any relief. Even him. You pushed back onto him and took more.

He once more began to play with your clit as he eased himself into you. Little by little until he filled you entirely. His other hand trailed up your stomach and his fingers hooked over your shoulder as your spine curved to accommodate him.

"I want more than you, my pet. I want all of me in you." He pushed again and you moaned. You might've been at your limit but he wasn't. "I want to put my seed in you."

He thrust and groaned. He buried himself as deep as he could go and held himself there as you squirmed. He did it again and again and again until your body longed for the pain of it.

"I want to watch you grow, my pet. To see the life blossom inside of you," He rocked steadily into you. "Because of me. Because I willed it."

You reached back to touch his thighs. Wanting him to keep going and stop all at once. Your body was in turmoil. The battle within threatened to tear you in half.

"Tell me you want my seed," He sped up and the sound of his flesh and yours filled the room. "Tell me you want me."

"I…" You breathed between thrusts. "I...want...you."

The lie was easy if it meant you were closer. Closer to the end. Closer to release. You moaned as your walls clung to him.

He impaled you entirely, again he lingered in your warmth before starting again. This time harder and faster. He contorted your body to fit his and his hand wrapped around your throat.

"'I want you, my prince.'" He corrected, each word followed by a sharp thrust.

"I. Want. You. My. P-p-prince." You latched onto his wrist as you struggled to breathe.

He pounded into you, nearly taking you off the bed with each plunge. Your moans mingled with the slap of flesh on flesh and his groans were hot against your ear.

You came, a cry betrayed you, and he nipped at your ear. He relished your orgasm, an unwilling white flag as he chased another. You shook again in another flash of ecstasy and his grip tightened on your neck.

"Gods, oh my pet, I'm….oh."

You felt him cum. He filled you as he shuddered. He fucked his seed deep inside of you and didn't slow until he was out of breath. He let go of your throat and leaned on you until you were forced onto your stomach. He fell atop you, still inside of you.

"Oh, my pet," He wiggled his hips. "I think I might just keep you."

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