#at least i was wearing a mask in there so nobody saw my probably-red face and stupid grin | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

chained, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: You ever fuck someone wearing a collar and a chain... that's attached to the hot girl with the demonic grin? No? Just Min Yoongi? In his defense, he really likes a bad bitch.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; yup, there are Marilyn Manson and Slipknot references; D/s smut (fem reader, black leather collars and a chain leash, [a lot of] choking, saliva everywhere, handjob, m-receiving oral, slight edging, hair pulling, penetrative sex); non-idol!AU - rapper, sub!Yoongi x goth (also kinda his manager? lol) dom!reader; kinda PWP; Yoongi's POV

feel like I'm hexed, yeah, that bitch bad collar on her neck and her ass real fat

Most people would say, “Nah, dude, don’t mess with girls like that.”

Most people would say, “She’s fucking scary, why the hell would you think she’s hot?”

Most people would, but Min Yoongi wasn’t most people.

“I want to play a game.”

He tilted his head. “Then let’s play a game.”

She grinned, wild hair over her left eye. “Yeah?”

The first time he met her, he was at a bar and a woman was chatting him up, engaging him in conversation he didn’t want to be in. Fuck. The only reason he came was to accompany his friends, but they were all much more extroverted than he was and had already wandered off with potentials of the night. He didn’t want a potential. He just wanted a damn shot of whiskey and then he was going to slink into a corner and pretend nobody existed.

He minimized his responses to, “Mhm” and “Yeah,” but the woman wasn’t getting the hint and the bartender was busy. Sigh.

All of a sudden, a short man with a white, mannequin-like mask appeared. The white mask was painted with black streaks. He had stringy, long black and red hair and was wearing black coveralls.

Yoongi and the woman jumped away from each other, disconcerted by the appearance of the strange, tiny man.

“Bartender! Hey, real quick, can you get my friend here a drink?”

And then, fuck.

Black leather jacket, silver hardware. Tight fitted white top, so shredded the black bra underneath was visible. Short black pleated skirt. Ripped tights. Thick black boots with chains. Yoongi felt his eyes widen, looking up and down at this curvy frame. Wild hair, lush tits, juicy thighs, an ass that could put anyone in a trance with the way those hips swayed. Dark makeup, playful grin with red-stained lips.

A black choker with at least eight-centimeter spikes.

A pure white contact lens in her left eye.

“Hey, you can’t cover your face here,” a patron interrupted. “That’s creepy.”

The small man in the mask didn’t reply. The woman in black, however, swatted a hand like she was whacking away a fly.

“He’s part of the entertainment. Buzz off.”

“Oh, yes, you’re the band’s drummer, right?” The bartender rushed over. “Sorry, sorry. What will it be?”

The masked man said nothing.

“Double shot whiskey on the rocks,” the woman replied for him. “Did I get it right this time, Hana?”

A single nod from that stringy head.

“What about you?”

Yoongi jumped, startled the woman in black leather was addressing him. She cocked her head to the confused bartender. “You’ve been standing here ignored for the past ten minutes. I noticed because I was waiting for the guys to suit up to bring Hana to the bar.” She waved her hand. “Come on. Give me your order. I got you.”

“O… Oh. Same thing.”

She nodded. “Ya heard him. And don’t just only pay attention to cute girls, bartender.”

The bartender’s cheeks flushed. “A-Ah, I apologize! I’ll have them ready right away.”

The woman sighed and shook her head, completely ignoring the chatty woman who was making eyes at Yoongi, trying to get near him again. Yoongi pretended not to notice, stepping closer to the short, creepy man. The white mask didn’t move. The woman leaned down a bit because the man was shorter than she was with her height and platform boots.

“Don’t be takin’ nothing with the whiskey now. I’m treatin’ ya,” she chuckled under her breath.

Yoongi noticed the slight satoori. It made her voice a little deep and gruff.

“Shut it.”

She snickered. “Made you talk, Hana.”

The white mask went back to being silent.

She sighed and stood back up turning her attention to Yoongi. “Sorry about my friend here. He doesn’t like talking or people. I’m trying to get him to be more personable. Is it working?”

Yoongi blinked.

“Uh.”

Damn, every time she smiled, he felt a thrill shoot up his spine. White teeth showing, pink tongue peeking out between them.

It just seemed a little psychotic, a little mischievous, and a lot sexy.

“I know it’s not working. Can’t say I didn’t try.”

The masked man might as well have been a mannequin with how still he was.

“You’re his manager?” Yoongi found himself asking.

She shrugged. “Kind of? I actually just own the studio space the band records. But I like coming to the gigs sometimes if I can. Good excuse to get a little drunk, eh? Plus, I’m trying to find musicians to rent out the other spaces.”

Fuck.

Was it his lucky day or what?

“I’m looking for a studio space to record my music, actually.”

Her eyebrows raised. “No shit? You wanna talk some business?”

Oh, they talked business to bass and drums thundering the bar.

Later, they talked about some… other things too. What could he say? Yoongi liked a bad bitch. She wore leather, she owned cluster of studio spaces – “well, they ain’t mine, they’re my dad’s, but he’s never here, he’s off gambling and chasing booty, I think” – she gave him a fair price, and she loved to suck dick.

Yoongi didn’t find out about that last bit until later.

Right now, she was clipping the end of a silver chain to the collar around his neck.

It was heavy, probably metal. The collar he was wearing was thick black leather, with a steel ring resting against his collarbones. Yoongi was pretty sure she was doing a number on him. He wore a lot of black, yeah. He liked leather jackets too. But being around her presence was messing with his head and he was pretty sure he was being influenced by her energy. He used to hate his eye shape and his dark circles, but when he saw himself in the mirror with her tangled around him, riding his dick, he found himself thinking he didn’t look so bad after all. He looked good standing with the woman with the white contact lens and the demonic grin.

Maybe he was a little crazy, but everyone was a little crazy. Yoongi wasn’t worried about something like that.

Right now, she licked her teeth with that lithe, pink tongue of hers.

The other end of the chain was connected to the collar around her neck.

“You wanna play?” she drawled.

Fuck, he loved that shit. Her voice got slightly deep and throaty when she spoke in satoori. He wasn’t sure if she noticed it or not. It must be from her father. She mentioned that she had been raised by her dad – “sporadically, he liked to travel and, by travel, I mean gamble and chase ass, although surprisingly he didn’t come back with more kids, so I guess he learned his lesson” – but she was kind of the same way.

Not the gambling bit.

He didn’t really mind it though. She didn’t try to hide anything and he encouraged her to be herself. Plus, no one was getting the treatment he got. Yoongi was pretty sure about that, because when she fucked around, she did it in public. He had to be the one to tell her to take it upstairs and go for the throat.

Alright, not the throat. The dick.

In some way, Yoongi felt that was her way of asking if he approved, because she never took it upstairs and out of his sight unless he gave her the go ahead.

Right now, her tongue extended and wiggled in the air, glossy and slick with her saliva.

He smirked, open-mouthed and with a flick of tongue at the edge of his teeth.

She gripped the chain and yanked him by the neck to her face, crashing that demonic grin to his lips.

Like an injection or a spell, it gave him a rush, the firm leather snapping against his neck, chained to her, both wearing the collars, but she was always in control, always, and he liked it like that, liked the way she traced his lips with her powerful tongue, her saliva his aphrodisiac, before she captured his lips and rolled her body into his lap, skin to skin, moving like a snake, his gasp against her devouring mouth, her bare ass sliding on his thigh, fuck, so sexy, so soft, so bouncy, one hand on his face and another on his shoulder, fingers spread out and tendons flexing.

He liked to say she was the angel that held up her blinding halo with devil horns.

She yanked on the chain and Yoongi sucked in a breath, closing one eye as she licked his cheek, ending with a kiss on his brow. Cold air chilled his wet skin, making him shiver.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ hot, Yoongi.”

Pretty sure neither of them believed in a god but it got the point across.

He raised his hand and she smacked his wrist down, pinning it to the bed.

“Nuh uh.”

Yoongi wasn’t really expecting her to let him.

He raised his other hand. It was immediately swatted down onto the bed, her eyebrow cocking.

“Naughty, naughty.”

He cocked an eyebrow back, defying.

She leaned down and snatched the chain in her mouth, tugging on it with teeth and neck, narrowing her eyes. The white contact lens on her left eye gleamed under her lashes. She always wore it except right before sleeping. He once asked her why and she had shrugged.

“Mental security, I guess.”

Now, she growled like an animal.

“Down.”

She looked like she was about to headbutt him. He wouldn’t put it past her.

He lowered himself slowly, her mouth holding the chain taut until he was laying on the bed. She grinned, pleased at his obedience. Yoongi was quite sure that she was probably the closest being to a succubus that he would ever encounter with the violent thrill of arousal she was giving him with those plush lips and white teeth around the silver chain, pink tongue circling around the metal to tease him.

Maybe he was the crazy one for being turned on by it.

She dropped the chain on his chest. He flinched, the wet, heavy metal thudding onto his sternum, right against his pounding heartbeat. She rubbed her thigh against his balls and hardening cock, raising her head, chain following, higher, higher, letting go of his hands, arching her back, tits up, until it was fully taut between his neck and hers, the sides of the collars forcefully digging into his neck and hers. Yoongi did not lift his head from the bed to reduce the tension. Her devilish smile widened. A chain tug-of-war between collar to collar, both of them choking the other.

She lifted her hand and licked her palm, saturating it with saliva.

She reached down and wrapped her long fingers around his stiff length.

Didn’t say he could touch her though, so Yoongi didn’t.

“Think you can last longer than last time?”

He clenched his jaw. “Maybe.”

She pulled harder and he locked his neck and shoulders, clutching the sheets with a sharp gasp, pleasure shooting up his core, firm, strong strokes up and down his cock, fuck, fuck, every damn time, that second of cold as her saliva soaked his skin and then it warmed up fast to hot, slippery ecstasy, hard and getting harder, his pre-cum mixing with her saliva, staring at her hard nipples and juicy hips, knees around one of his thighs, shaking her ass when she noticed him looking, changing the pace, addicted to the feeling of her hands. He could feel the bones and the hard muscle of her grip and, sure, that didn’t sound sexy, but it felt incredible, adding stimulation in that inescapable hold and paired with slickness, choking his cock slightly and he craved every second of it, thighs tense and hard, growling in his throat as he dug his head into the mattress, pulling the chain for all it was worth, lightheaded now, the leather cutting in, probably leaving a mark, locking eyes with mischievous orbs and an impish smirk, the sides of her collar also cutting into the sides of her neck, choking herself as she was choking him while jacking him off.

Black haze threatened the edges of his vision.

He was going to pass out or cum. Yoongi didn’t care which happened first.

“F… Fuck!”

Yoongi snapped his jaw shut and shot up her forearm and down his length, strained groan of her name leaking past his teeth, bolts of pleasure invading his nerves all the way up to his scalp, blossoming into an erotic haze. She snapped her head forward. Oxygen flooded his brain, his jaw going slack with a moan, his eyes rolling back, high so high his whole body shuddered, barely registering her movement, hearing the lewd slurps of her drinking up his cum.

Wet.

Hot.

“Shit!”

Her mouth enveloped his twitching length, burying it deep into her throat, slathering tongue and satisfied hiss, chain clinking against his stomach and hitting his trembling balls, twisting her head so the chain wouldn’t cause any damage to them as she began to suck, flashes of tongue flickering out of the edges of those plush lips, grazing his crotch and scrotum, pointedly staring at him with an arched eyebrow.

She bounced her hips when she noticed him looking, shaking her ass as she sucked his dick.

Yoongi grinned.

His vision was barely focusing, trying to recover from orgasm in the midst of the intoxicating pleasure of her soft and tight mouth, tongue rubbing under the head of his cock, causing it to jerk and swell in the back of her throat and then she thrust it all the way back in there, taking him impossibly deep, sinfully moaning around his cock, vibrating it with lust. He glanced at her hands, fingers spread out and joints locked, tendons flexed, pointed black fingernails clawing into the sheets.

The heat flaring over his abdomen and hips was rising to his limit once more.

Yoongi panted her name, hoarse and breathless, realizing his Daegu satoori was suddenly more prominent in his disheveled state.

“I’m gonna cum–”

She popped her mouth off his cock and he snapped his teeth, snarling.

“You bitch.”

She grinned, wiggling her tongue, thick plops of saliva dripping down and hitting his flinching hips and throbbing cock, the head an angry purple-red from being so roughly stimulated after orgasm. The white contact gleamed alongside the devious glint in her right eye, black pupils blown out, a little psychotic, a little mischievous, and a lot sexy.

It didn’t matter who was on top because she knew she was always on top.

To be clear, Yoongi didn’t take shit from anyone without a fight. It got him in trouble sometimes, but this particular brand was trouble was the kind he liked. She gave him a long period of two seconds to roll the condom down before tangling one hand in the metal chain and the other in his black hair, pulling both in opposite directions. He hissed dangerously, plunging his hard cock into the wet, waiting heat, scorched by her roughness and his desire, one of her legs on his shoulder and the other around his waist, smacking their bodies together with violent force.

The tip of her tongue traced her teeth, grinning demonically.

“Come on, you said you were gonna play the game with me, Yoongi,” she chuckled, naughtily mocking him, voice deep and rough from her satoori.

“Let’s see if you can keep up,” he growled in kind, low and gravelly.

She pulled on the collar much harder than his hair, but both were equally arousing, prickling pain on his scalp and circulation cut short once again, brief flashes of oxygen bleeding through with his aggressive thrusts, the excess chain knocking against her collarbones, just another layer of sound along with slapping hips and squelching juices, her velvet walls clenching around him with every descent, not going fast so he could last, burying deep and hitting her hard. She winced, guttural growl at the base of her throat and the side of his lips quirked up.

“Too much?” he taunted.

“I’ll tell you when it’s too much,” she grunted, jerking her hips up and brutally squeezing the head deep inside.

“Fuck…”

He knew she wouldn’t let him do anything she didn’t want, so he kept going, her wrist flicking up with every thrust, leather collar snapping into his skin, thinning his breath to gasps at the stinging pain, the hand in his hair releasing him, messy black strands invading his vision, but he had no time to complain, groaning as her nails dug into his back and dragged up, inflamed hot lines that shot into his system and fed his adrenaline. His fists bunched the sheets, locking his shoulders, clenching his jaw, flexing his neck, and now he was being choked again, consistently this time, oxygen thinning out once more, barely able to keep his eyes open.

Her smile sent thrills up his spine and they split at the base of his head, tendrils of vicious desire numbing all sensations except lust, gluttonous for the pain that nourished more pleasure, greedy for everything she forced him to take, too prideful to ask her to loosen her hold, desperate not to give in to her wrath, usually slothful but now using every fiber of his strength to push himself to the limit, high getting higher knowing that anyone would be envious of how good he got it from that fiendish playful grin and hot delicious body under him, collared together in joined sin.

She let out a low moan, basking in him, feeding his need to satisfy hers.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot, Yoongi.”

He managed to get out half of a breath, staring into those irises, one real, one covered in white.

“Fuck, your voice gets me off every time,” he hissed.

He slammed his hips down and she clamped around his entire length, releasing the chain, both of their heads tipping back, his in the air and hers into the pillows, moans in unison as he shot into the condom and she released onto his twitching length and skin, coating him with slickness. The scent of sex permeated the air, his previous orgasm soaked into the sheets already and hers smearing with it as their hips descended, his throbbing cock pulsed by her flinching walls, her thighs tense around his waist and his hard ones against her ass, making sure to lean forward so he didn’t fall out, savoring every second of their joined bodies.

The hotel room was certainly getting some important use.

Yoongi remembered he had been annoyed when she said he should rent one since the potential gig was rather far away and transportation so late at night was going to be a bitch. He almost didn’t do it, but she rolled her eyes and booked it anyway, triumphant when he sold out the venue. Not a huge venue, but bigger than he had ever performed before.

He still said she had to make it up to him for making him travel farther than he originally wanted.

As usual, Yoongi was not disappointed.

“Housekeeping is gonna be pissed,” she chuckled. “Smells like sex.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

“How’s your throat?”

“Pretty sure rapping strains the inside of my throat, not the outside.”

She chuckled. “Now you hurt all over.”

“Good.”

Yoongi closed the distance and kissed that smirk, metal chain sandwiched between their hot, sweaty skin, the steel rings of the black leather collars clinking against each other.

masterpost

the lyrics in the beginning are from hot demon b!tches near u!! by CORPSE ft night lovell

#yoongi x reader #bts smut #yoongi smut #yoongi x you #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #min yoongi smut

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ladydaemon · 3 years

Text

HOME IS THE TWO OF US

jesper fahey x female! reader

A/N: this is my fic for @magpiencrow's 1.2k writing challenge - i chose to combine 'you and i' by queen and 'two of us' by the beatles. and yeah this is more than two weeks later than when i said i would post this what about it

Summary: jesper and y/n have a wonderful night on ghezen's day

Warnings: swearing, i think that's it? its literally just pure indulgent fluff

"You do realize someone probably worked very hard to earn kruge like this, right?" Y/N L/N grinned, holding up a thick wad of money they had stolen from someone's pockets. She was seemingly unperturbed by the fact, her tone light and teasing as she bumped playfully into Jesper.

"And we, my dear, are working very hard on spending it," Jesper winked, wrapping one of his long arms around her shoulders. He snatched the kruge from her hand, immediately spending a portion of it on the first thing he laid eyes on, which was a ridiculously bright orange hat that burned Y/N’s eyes just looking at.

Jesper plopped it on her head, adjusting it so it was crooked, laughing.

Y/N would have done anything to hear that laugh.

The streets were loud and boisterous and carefree, and for the first time in a very long while, the two of them felt the same way. For today, at least, there were no chores or errands or jobs to do.

It was Ghezen's Day - the holiday that signified the starting of spring, where everything was sunny and bright. It was the one day where even the lowest of the Barrel thugs were out enjoying this tiny sliver of happiness, where there was only whistling vendors and cheery parades and star-gazing at night.

But for Y/N and Jesper, it was something more. It was a day where they weren't con artists or thieves or sharpshooters. They weren't thugs or gamblers or criminals.

They were teenagers.

Kaz, of course, pretended like he didn't care. He rolled his eyes and told them that were just trying to get away from chores they despised or any actual work. But everyone knew, even if they didn't admit it, that today was a day where they could pretend.

Pretend to be normal, pretend to be regular, pretend that they had loving families and good homes. Pretend that the weight of being hated and criminalized and addicted didn't make their shoulders slump and their heads hang. Pretend that they didn't muffle their sobs behind closed doors or shake in bed as they tried to rid their minds of all the horrible, treacherous, necessary things they had done.

Pretend that they were just a pair of inseparable best friends having a good holiday.

"C'mon, we need to find a good spot to see the sky," Jesper needled, taking Y/N by the arm and dragging her toward a carriage, elbowing a small, old lady out of the way and almost running them over a few small children on the way.

On Ghezen's Day, an hour after the sun set, the city mandated that all lights be shut off - the sky was clearer than it ever was in the hours that followed, and nearly everyone over the age of twelve stayed up until dawn, watching the sky. However, there was still pollution in the city, remainders of the gas and oil and muck churned up from the sea and the homes of the wealthy, and many preferred to ride to the outskirts of town, if not all the way into the country, where the sky was more visible.

Those towns that bordered between rural and urban, which never saw much tourism or profit, were the most popular places to be, full of tents for dancing outside and vendors selling foreign delicacies and musicians standing in the streets.

And as such, it was almost impossible to get a carriage out of the city without deploying either bony knees, steel-capped boots, or vicious elbows.

And that was exactly what was happening as people shoved and hassled people out of the way, even occasionally pulling out thick wads of kruge, trying to bribe other people in getting out of the limited selection of carriages going out of the city.

"The woman with the black shawl," Y/N whispered (though she needn't have bothered - the city was loud enough to mask any noise), leaning in and brushing her lips against Jesper's ear so he could hear her.

She could’ve sworn she felt him shudder.

"Ten minutes. No less."

"Twenty kruge.”

"Done."

Y/N grinned, slipping out of Jesper's hold and sauntering over to the woman in question, a pretty red-head. The woman was obviously rich (Y/N took a moment to appreciate the elegant dark blue dress she was wearing, paired with pretty gold earring and a matching necklace) and was about to step into a black carriage - one that Y/N was about to charm her out of.

"Hey there, miss," Y/N called out, putting on the face of an entitled, flirtatious mercher. "You wouldn't mind sharing the carriage, would you? I can’t seem to find an available one, and I’d rather share one with a beautiful lady such as yourself instead of some of those Barrel barbarians.”

The woman stopped halfway into her seat, looking back at Y/N.

If Y/N hadn’t been wearing the obviously expensive clothes she was, with the even more expensive diamond necklace around her throat (that Jesper had given her last Ghezen’s Day, as a present), the woman would have simply shut the carriage door in Y/N’s face.

Then there was the fact that she was gorgeous, and nobody in their right mind would refuse a two hour carriage ride alone with her.

That was Jesper’s opinion, at least.

“I could say the same about you,” the mercher grinned, opening the door wider.

Y/N smiled back, stepping into the carriage and placing her hand delicately on the other woman’s arm-

And swiftly shoved her into the streets, slamming the door behind her. Jesper climbed in from the other side, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “Cruel.”

“Please, I slipped fifty kruge in her sleeve, she’ll be fine.”

“Ah. In that case, proceed. I don’t like anyone flirting with my Y/N, anyway.”

Y/N smirked at him, handing the driver a wad of kruge and telling him to step on it.

“Criminals,” he muttered, snapping the reins.

"Heels down, Y/N, love," Jesper shouted, grinning.

Y/N, switching the reins to one hand, flipped him off, scowling, but adjusted her feet in the stirrups anyways, forcing her heels downward and huffing when her calves ached. “I hate you.”

“We both know you love me,” Jesper shouted back, easing back into a trot - Y/N did the same, easing her weight further into the balls of her feet and gripping the saddle tighter between her knees. Beside her, Jesper had already done the same, posting in time with his horse’s gait.

“Where are we going again?” Y/N asked, panting as she slowed her horse down to a full stop.

“Absolutely nowhere.”

“Do we’re going nowhere, and basically getting nowhere and you want me to be happy about all this work?”

“Yes? You’re being blessed with my presence.” Mock indignation filled the words and Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Fine,” Jesper huffed, “let’s go back home.”

But home wasn’t always a place, was it?

”Come on, I’m hungry,” Y/N whined, pulling Jesper’s wrist with her as she power-walked through the crowded, small town in search of some sweets.

”Ooh, cinnamon honey cakes,” Jesper said dryly, almost smacking into Y/N when she came to a full, screeching halt.

”Don’t you dare joke about honey cakes,” she hissed, poking him in the chest.

”I wasn’t,“ Jesper chuckle, nodding toward the vendor selling the sweets in question.

Y/N gasped audibly, dragging him along with her as she practically sprinted for the cart.

”After this, we’re going straight to the pond. We don’t want anyone to steal our spot.”

Y/N flopped down on her bed, staring at her wall of paper in boredom.

Each scrap of parchment, every napkin with hastily scribbled writing in the back, was a letter from Jesper.

Every week, no matter where Jesper was at the moment, he would write her a letter - describe where he was in detail, and then every thought that came to mind. It was a strange tradition (that nobody remembered how it came about) that Nina liked to tease them about.

You two have separation anxiety, she would giggle. Like an overprotective mother and her baby.

Two best friends, actually, Y/N would respond, stuffing her face with waffles.

Um, no. Would ‘best friends’ write, and I quote, “I’ll be home soon” on every letter they write?

Yes, they would, Y/N would sigh, snatching whichever letter Nina had gotten ahold of that time, and stare at the phrase in question.

Because home wasn’t a place.

“Stop doing that,” Jesper whined, plucking the lit match from Y/N’s fingers and tossing it into the pond.

She huffed, sticking out her tongue and lighting another one, waiting until it had burned down to her fingers before flinging it into the lake. “It’s a habit, Jes.”

They could’ve been there bickering playfully, enjoying each other’s company in silence for three days or three hours or a mere three minutes. Time didn’t exist, didn’t matter when they were alone together.

Laughter rang through the darkness, lanterns only bobbing pinpricks of light behind them - drunk giggles and cheerful music echoed back to them, but it didn’t really register to either of the two.

Moonlight bathed the two of them in a white glow as they both stood up as the stars gradually came out, twinkling, tiny lights covering the marbled, dusky blue-purple-black night sky, exposing nebulae and swirls and whorls of colors.

“Y/N, love, you’re gonna catch a cold.”

“I don’t care in the slightest.”

Jesper sighed, a grudging smile overtaking his face as he watched Y/N. She was soaked to the bone, hair and clothes sticking to her skin, nose ruddy from the cold.

“Dance with me,” she pleaded, holding out a hand to him.

She looked beautiful.

Jesper finally relented, picking Y/N up and twirling her around. She squeaked, closing her eyes, gripping onto his arms for dear life as the rain came down in silver sheets around them.

When he set her back down, the world seemed to stop spinning, the carriages stopped moving, it was just him and her and the rain.

“Let’s go home,” Y/N said eventually, quiet and peaceful, smiling up at Jesper.

But they were already home.

She turned to Jesper, about to remark on how pretty the whole thing was, but stopped in her tracks. He was staring at her, a small, happy smile on his face, an unreadable emotion in his silver eyes.

“Wha-“

He closed the three feet of space between them, grabbing her face between his hands, gently, like she was as precious as the diamonds around her neck. Not like she was breakable - like she was valuable, and he never wanted to lose her.

He gave her time to pull away, to laugh and make a joke, but she only stared back at him, the quizzical expression gone, on its place one of fear and hope and happiness.

And then his mouth was on hers and her hands were messing up his hair and she couldn’t feel the grass on her feet anymore or the wind on her neck or her heart, jittering in her chest like it wanted to burst out and fly into the night, only him, him, him.

And then he pulled away and kissed her nose, her eyelids, her forehead. He was laughing, hands going to her waist to twirl her around and around and then she was laughing too, too many emotions to count bubbling up in her chest. Elation, hope, almost hysterical happiness, and-

Absolute certainty.

That was the feeling, that was the one thought filling her head - that there weren’t any questions anymore, because this was where she was supposed to be, this is what she was supposed to be doing, and for once, she was letting herself.

For once, she wasn’t thinking about the next day or the next job or the next week.

It was just the two of them.

Because she could never predict where life was going to lead her next, or foresee the future years, or know what horrible thing was going to happen to her next. Hell, she didn’t know what was going to happen in the next couple hours, let alone what type of sandwich she was going to eat tomorrow.

But she knew, with absolute and utter certainty, that she wanted to do it with him.

That whatever happened, she would be alright, because home wasn’t a place - and it wasn’t Jesper, either.

It was the two of them, together.

Music floated gently in the darkness, down to were Y/N and Jesper were laying in the grass. Her head was on his chest, and they were both staring at the stars.

Home is the two of us.

#magpie's 1.2k #lady dae fics #jesper fahey x reader #jesper fahey #jesper fahey x y/n #jesper fahey x you #jesper x reader #jesper x y/n #six of crows #crooked kingdom #six of crows fanfic #grishaverse #jesper x you

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redorich · 3 years

Note

In the HermitCanyon au, How is my favorite Bee armored Admin doing? How long does it take for Xisuma to become.. aware of what is happening? For the first few sections it seemed like he was in a coma/unconscious. In the most recent bit Impulse tells Etho to get Xisuma, so at least theoretically he can now move, but how long has it taken him to get there, and where is he on the scale to full recovery? Are the other hermits keeping him safe with rabbit stew? (if they have rabbits that is...)

Part 2 of this.

Etho comes back twenty minutes later with a solemn look on his face. (At least, Puffy assumes. She can't actually see most of his face because of that mask of his.)

"X is in a bad way today," he says quietly. "I can take Puffy to him if you guys would like to stay here with Zedaph."

Impulse and Tango look nervously at each other. On one hand, they very much would like to stay with Zedaph, who is mostly healed but still very loopy and probably should not be moved. On the other hand, allowing Puffy deep into the Hermits' inner sanctum is a risk in and of itself, let alone with only one Hermit with her. Etho's a good fighter and a wily bastard, but Puffy is most certainly no slouch.

In the end, it comes down to trust. How much can they show Puffy before they can no longer trust that she won't snitch? How sure are they that she won't try to kill them all and steal their stuff?

"Tell Xisuma I said hi," Zedaph warbles from the bed in the corner of the room, out of any window's line of sight.

As Etho presses a button which removes a panel of the wall in a whir of piston noises, Puffy snorts out a little laugh. "I'll be sure to do that."

Tango nods subtly to Impulse. If Puffy brought Zedaph back to the canyon, saved him from a painful respawn, and didn't once ask for anything in return, then the Hermits can trust her at least this much.

Etho leads Puffy through a short hallway into a large circular room with a domed ceiling. The room is mostly quartz, though the walls are lined with sea lanterns and oak leaves. It’s beautiful. This place has been hiding under her feet this whole time?

“This is the Atrium,” Etho says, “or at least the main one. Come on, getting a mule will be more trouble than it’s worth if you’re not carrying anything.”

Puffy is speechless, utterly and profoundly, when Etho takes her through a tunnel on the opposite side of where she entered. It almost looks as though the tunnel here was carved by hand, then completely redone in dirt and grass and vines to give it a secretive, high fantasy look.

“Hey, Etho!” says a dark-haired man with a big smile as he comes trotting out of a branching hallway to the left. “Hey--” He catches sight of Puffy and his smile dissipates into panic. He shouts incoherently and dives back into the hallway he just exited.

“Hey Bdubs,” Etho greets impishly, then turns to Puffy. “Man, it’s like he saw a ghost or something. Maybe Mothman.”

Puffy bleats out a surprised laugh. Up ahead, she spots another Hermit lurking around the corner of the archway Etho is leading her toward.

“Etho,” says a tall blonde woman. “Cleo wants to talk to you about, er...” The blonde woman glances at Puffy. “Her thing,” she finishes lamely.

“Well, as you can see, I’m a bit busy at the moment. Would you mind telling Cleo so she doesn’t skin me alive?” Etho says sweetly.

The blonde woman snorts. “Face the music, Mothman. I’ll take care of Puffy from here. I assume you’re taking her to Xisuma?”

Etho wilts. Clearly, whoever this Cleo person is, she’s not someone to piss off. Puffy wonders what Etho did.

“See ya around,” Etho waves, somehow both cheery and morose at the same time, like a funeral for someone nobody liked. Puffy and the blonde woman watch him go.

“My name’s False, by the way,” the blonde woman says. “Thanks for the bandanna. Normally I’d be wearing it, but I just got back from beating up Iskall.”

The woman-- False-- laughs. Puffy is once again taken aback by the idea that the Hermits actually use the items that she makes for them.

False takes off in a brisk walk toward the archway she’d come out of. Jumping a little bit at being torn from her thoughts, Puffy hurries to follow. It’s hard to keep up, since all Puffy wants to do is stare. She must be in the living quarters-- they let her in the living quarters?! Each door matches the high fantasy, underground sort of aesthetic, but a few doors are left open and each one is remarkably different on the inside. One room is built entirely out of red and white concrete, whereas another is Nether-themed with actual fire, and the room down the hall is entirely underwater!

One door is different. It’s got blue-purple banners along the frame, and when False opens the door for Puffy, she can see that the room is made of blackstone bricks. Maps of the Dream SMP line the wall, and in the center of the room there is a mildly ornate table made of warped wood.

At the end of the table in the back of the room, opposite the door, sits a trio. To the left, there is a plain-looking man with a beard and an “at” symbol on his shirt. He speaks in a Southern accent to a man on the right side of the table, who wears a red sweater and twirls a feather between his fingers like the cat that got the canary.

In between the two, at the head of the table, rests someone very unique. He’s obviously tall, that much is obvious even when he’s sitting down. He’s also got mesmerizing purple eyes which glow faintly against the dark of the blackstone. Puffy doesn’t know why, but she gets the feeling that they’re supposed to be glowing much brighter.

As taken by the man’s eyes as she is, Puffy doesn’t notice the non-invasive breathing tube the man also has (a cannula? She doesn’t know what it’s called, but that sounds right) until the man’s gaze falls upon her, still standing in the doorway next to False.

“Oh,” the man says. “You’re not supposed to be here. Welcome.”

False steps forward, breaking Puffy from her trance. “Puffy, this is Xisuma, Joe, and Grian. I’d introduce you to them as well, but... you know.”

“I don’t know-- oh,” Puffy says awkwardly, catching sight of the massive crochet blanket she’d made for the Hermit months ago, draped across Xisuma’s shoulders.

“Why are you here?” Grian asks with a tilted head. “No offense or anything, but I just lost a bet. I had three diamonds on Cub bringing you in here eventually-- he’s the one you usually meet at the barrel, you know.”

False interjects, “I didn’t bring her down here, it was Etho!”

“Shoot,” Joe says. “Cleo wins yet again.”

“It was Zedaph, actually,” Puffy says. All eyes turn to her. “I found him on the surface. He was really injured, so I brought him back here. Impulse and-- Tango? Yeah, Tango-- told Etho to take me down here.”

Puffy uncharacteristically twiddles her fingers a little bit, feeling in over her head. “Uh, you know I’m not gonna tell or anything, so... Why am I here?”

The full weight of Xisuma’s piercing stare falls upon her. Even as fragile as he looks, even as strong as Puffy is, she feels a jolt of apprehension.

“You’d know more about the red vines than we do,” he begins. “Etho mentioned that they’re what hurt Zedaph; he’s mentioned them on multiple occasions, and never in a good way. How long do you think it would take for those vines to reach our village, and what do you think would happen once they do?”

“As far as we’re aware, there are several players who are proponents of the vines, and claim they originate from some sort of egg?” Joe adds. “I’ve had a hard time calculating how big of a mushroom we’d need to make an omelet out of the egg, but apparently most of my fellow Hermits do not in fact want evil eggs on their omelets.”

“And how come the End is inaccessible?” Grian cuts in with a whine. “I want my elytra.”

Xisuma huffs a laugh into the cannula. “As you can see, we have many questions which only a native Dream SMP player like yourself can answer. In the interest of keeping ourselves safe--” he trails off into a coughing fit.

Puffy bites her lip, feeling as though she really shouldn’t be seeing this. Joe rests his hand on Xisuma’s back.

“You give us answers, and we’ll give you diamonds, netherite, whatever you want. And when we move out-- well, it wasn’t much of a secret anyway-- we’ll offer you a safe place with us,” Grian speaks up on Xisuma’s behalf.

A thousand thoughts spin inside Puffy’s head. She feels like Dorothy in that tornado, and Grian’s offer is the Wicked Witch. “Did you guys really save Tommy’s life?” she finds herself asking.

The Hermits seem taken aback.

“The blond kid?” False asks. “Yeah, but he was unconscious the whole time. I think Scar told the kid to keep us a secret, but... I don’t think any of us expected that to actually work.”

Puffy laughs disbelievingly. “He’s the one person on the entire server who keeps insisting that you guys aren’t real.”

“That’s good to hear,” Xisuma says quietly. “Do you have an answer for us, or would you like some time to consider?”

There are a thousand and one variables Puffy needs to think about. What is Dream’s stance on the Hermits? Who will she be setting herself against by allying with the Hermits? What will Puffy have to expect, from both underground and surface-dwelling players alike? Which players can she take in a fight?

Fuck it, she thinks. “You’ve got yourselves a deal.”

Xisuma smiles. Despite his ill condition, she gets the feeling that this nice, mild-mannered man is far more dangerous than she could ever hope to be.

“I’m glad to have you on our side, Puffy,” he says. “Thank you for your help.”

#mcyt #hc x dsmp #hermit canyon au #captain puffy #ethoslab #zedaphplays #impulsesv #tango tek #xisuma #bdubs #zombiecleo #falsesymmetry #iskall85 #joe hills #grian #tommyinnit #dreamwastaken #me.cpp #me.txt

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helliontherapscallion · 3 years

Text

Who? (Forlorn Tale of Dionysus Part 2)

Part 1

Warnings: Swearing

Word count: 2,843

(A/N): I’m not exactly sure if this will continue any further, this was just a fun little thing I had in my drafts for a while after some interesting convos in my discord server (which you totally should join, it’s a vibe). This is lowkey word vomit, but eh. This is all strictly platonic btw

“Michael, are you sure you saw a house out here? I really don’t think-” You were interrupted by your much shorter friend yanking on your sleeve to get your attention. You looked down at him in question and watched as he raised his hands.

‘I am sure I saw that house, (y/n)! It is here somewhere.’

You fiddled with the sleeves of your thick coat with unease, “alright, but if we don’t find it soon I wanna head back. Uncle Boo and Uncle Tubbo are probably going to start to worry.”

Michael huffed at the mention of his parents. You knew how overbearing they were, causing your friend to crave new experiences and adventures. You’d known him for a couple of years now and he was rebelling more with each passing day. You could relate slightly, Philza and Technoblade had hardly let you out of the house without another person to accompany you. You never really understood why, you were almost thirteen now so you should be able to explore what you want.

An excited squeal left your friend’s mouth before he started to pull you towards something in the distance, startling you out of your trance. You matched his pace with ease and felt nervous excitement tingle in your chest.

As you got closer, you could make out small details of the cabin. It was a simple small cabin built out of spruce planks with glass windows and a brick chimney, but you liked it. It strangely felt homey.

You pulled Michael into a nearby shrub underneath a window and peered in. The interior was also as simplistic as the outside was, looking untouched and tidy as if nobody was living there. You could see that the ceilings were taller than average, perhaps a hybrid of some sort lived here?

Michael tapped your shoulder, ‘it doesn’t look like anybody’s home right now. Let’s go in.’

You opened your mouth to object before the sight of his set jaw and his eyes dead set on something inside made you close it. You learned from experience that when he was this determined, there was no stopping him. You sighed, “fine, but the second we get caught, it was your idea.”

You both made your way to the front door. Without a second thought, Michael twisted the doorknob and swung the door open. A startled snort left his throat as he stumbled inside, making you put a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter. He jabbed the side of your lower torso, ‘shut up, I thought it was going to be locked.’

He pulled you inside and you both explored the living room. Bookshelves and portraits lined the walls, a single large couch sat off to the side, and the fireplace mantle was lined with a few small golden hooks. Michael made a beeline towards it, admiring the metal. It seems that’s what he saw that made him so determined to get inside. You hoped that he wouldn’t steal them and explored the area further.

The portraits on the walls were a slight shock to you, they all included some people that you could recognize; in one you could make out a picture of younger versions of Ranboo, Philza, Technoblade, and Niki. Technoblade and Philza were sparring with shining golden swords while Ranboo and Niki sat in the grass on a hill watching with interest. Maybe this was just one of their old cabins?

You saw people that you didn’t recognize as well. Namely a cat hybrid with striking sapphire blue eyes, a man seemingly human (you say seemingly because your eyes caught sight of pointed ears) wearing a white bandana keeping his jet black hair out of his face, a tall man with green freckles and a creeper mask, an anthropomorphic diamond block with beady black eyes and a wide smile, and a man that looked strangely like Ghostbur except he was wearing a uniform of some sort. However, a demon quickly caught your eye and made your heart leap for joy. There was someone out there that was like you!

The man looked kind, always wearing a cheery smile and occasionally waving at the camera. He was tall and lanky, always towering over the others by a considerable amount. That made sense, Philza had told you that demons were naturally very tall when you asked him why you were growing faster than Michael when the zombie piglin was two years older than you were. Large wings and horns akin to yours sprouted from his back and head respectively. If he wasn’t constantly smiling, you would’ve thought that he was malevolent.

You heard the rapid footsteps of Michael’s boots behind you as you turned around. You bounced on the balls of your feet excitedly, “Michael look, another demon! Do you think he lives here?”

You watched as he shrugged and pulled you towards the kitchen. ‘I don’t know, but look! There’s another demon that looks exactly like you!’

On the kitchen table surrounded by various trinkets (bottles of wine, gold bricks, stale bread, and the decomposed remains of flower crowns and bouquets being the majority of the items) laid a framed picture of said demon lazily smiling and looking off to the side. Michael was right, they looked exactly like you except at least a decade older. Everything matched your physical features to a tee; from the red accents on their black wings to the way they smiled, it was like they were your clone. The only thing of yours that they were missing was the three circular birthmarks on your forehead. It was eerily uncanny.

Your eyes widened before you snatched the picture off from the table, studying them further. If you squinted, you could see that there was someone barely in frame. You flipped the frame around and took out the picture, unfolding it. In the picture was your adopted father and adopted uncles and aunt. What was going on? If they knew the demon, why didn’t they ever tell you about them?

‘Woah, that was smart. Do you think you might be related to them or something?’ He tilted his head before he perked up, ‘could they be one of your biological parents?’

“Maybe, but if they were, why didn’t my dad tell me about them? I… have a right to know about them, right?”

He nodded firmly, ‘you definitely do. It’s kind of fucked up they haven’t told you anything about them.’

“Yeah, it is. Do you think something bad happened to them?... Oh shit, is this a memorial?” You hurriedly refolded the picture and put it back into its frame.

Michael’s eyes widened and flickered around the table at the trinkets before he fished out two gold bars from his pocket and placed them onto the table. You crossed your arms, “what the fuck man?”

‘I thought they wouldn’t miss a few pieces of gold! You would’ve done the same thing if you were a piglin,’ he defended himself before he paused and shuddered, ‘we’re in a dead person’s house, that’s creepy… What if their ghost is right behind us?’

You spun around and put yourself slightly in front of Michael, your heart beating in your throat. Nothing was there. Michael snorted, making you slap his arm, “not cool, man.”

You were about to stomp off until a piece of paper caught your eye. It was a drawing of this person done in messy purple crayon, probably done by a very young child. It was signed by a Michael.

You turned to the wheezing zombie piglin and patiently waited for him to stop laughing. When he did, you showed him the picture, “did you draw this? Did you know them?”

He scrunched up his brow in concentration, squinting at the paper. Eventually he shook his head slowly, ‘I don’t think so. At least I don’t remember drawing it… This is getting weird.’

You nodded in agreement, putting the drawing back onto the counter. You walked towards the stairs and climbed them. They creaked under your foot loudly, a part of you was scared that you would fall through them. It was clear they haven’t been used in some time.

They led to a small loft, the ceiling coming to a point far overhead. A part of you was glad that this stranger (relative? Parent?) was a demon, it wasn’t often that you found lofts that fit all six and a half feet of you.

Like the rest of the house, it was very simplistic. A gigantic bed laid in the center of the furthest wall, made neatly with multiple fluffy blankets, part you was tempted to catapult yourself onto it. On the nightstand next to it sat a redstone lamp and a frosted glass of water, cracks spider webbing up the sides presumably from the cold.

You opened the lone drawer and discovered a book. Upon further inspection, you discovered that it was a journal with the name (y/n) written inside the cover. So this person had your name as well as your looks? This merely raised more questions than answers, so you slid the book into a pocket in your coat to read later. Under the book laid another picture of them posing with the strange group of people from the portraits downstairs. The de- (y/n) looked younger there. On the back, the word family was written and it was dated to be about twenty years old. You also pocketed the picture.

Michael walked over to the window and looked out at the vast tundra only to squeal in alarm. He ran over to you and pulled you downstairs. You looked out the window only to yelp when you saw a few crows standing on the window sill staring at you with their beady eyes.

You and Michael ran out of the house as fast as the both of you could, the snow being slightly tough to run through for the five and a half foot tall zombie piglin. You could hear the crows following you overhead. After a while of running, you both finally got back to Snowchester and raced past Ranboo and Tubbo. You hid in Michael’s room with the curtains tightly drawn.

You sat on his bed with your legs crossed and your back pressed up against the headboard. You let your head bang against the wall and you ran your hand down your face. “We’re fucked, dude. We’re literally so fucked.”

‘Uncle Phil’s still out of town so it’ll probably be a few days until they find out.’ Michael plopped next to you, panting and trying to regain his breath. “Still, we’re gonna be in so

much trouble for going that far out. I didn’t think my dad’s crows were still here.”

‘Might as well read the journal you found before we get grounded.’

You nodded and took out the journal, flipping it open to the first page. You both read the journal until it was dark outside and Michael was passed out on your shoulder. Subconsciously, you wrapped your wing around him as you read the journal.

The other (y/n) acted like you did for the most part, the only differences between you two was the lack of swearing and the fact that they felt alone even when they were surrounded by people. Your family’s names were dropped several times, especially when they were talking about ‘The Syndicate’. The code names they used were after various Greek myths, leading you to believe that Technoblade was one of the founders of the anarchist group.

You had learned that their family (potentially your family?) was strangely possessed by an egg and that they were previously possessed by said egg. They had a brother named Sapnap (your potential uncle?) that helped them escape to the tundra. It was there that they found the Syndicate, reminding you of the found family tropes you would read in books. The last journal entry detailed their last mission, how they were going to destroy the Eggpire from within and get their family back. That entry in particular gave you chills, even someone with half a brain could tell what happened to them after that.

By the time you had closed the book, it was dawn and the sun was peeking out from behind the closed curtains. You shook Michael awake and stretched out your aching body. Your neck muscles protested movement, sending a wave of pain across the area.

‘Damn, did you stay up all night reading that?’

“Of course I did, why wouldn’t I? I needed to find out about my biological parent somehow. I just- nothing makes sense, Michael.” You growled out, your voice deepening and distorting slightly as your frustration rose.

‘Chill! You’ll figure it out soon, let’s just focus on staying under the radar.’

“Too late for that.”

You both jumped and fell off the bed as you heard Philza’s voice. In the doorway, Philza stood with Ranboo, Tubbo, and Technoblade by his side, all looking equally angry and disappointed. Next to you, Michael shrunk in on himself and smiled sheepishly. He was about to raise his hands to sign, but a pointed look from Tubbo next to him told him that there was no getting out of this one.

Behind the anger, you could tell that something changed about the way the four were looking at you. You couldn’t tell what emotion they were hiding, whether it be wariness, longing, sadness, or just more unleashed anger, but you could tell that they knew something you didn’t. If the frustration that overcame you when you were reading the journal at the lack of questions answered burned inside of you, then what you felt now was a blazing inferno.

“We’re going home, grab your stuff (y/n).”

After a short staredown with the older man, you huffed in anger and gathered your things into your bag. The entire time, tense silence filled the room. Your hands were shaking with the rage you felt searing every inch of you. You could hear the sharp flicking of your pointed tail cutting through the air and occasionally hitting objects near you.

When you were done you stomped over to your adopted family and shouldered between Philza and Technoblade, speed walking down the hallway. They quickly caught up with you after saying a quick apology and a goodbye, Technoblade grabbing your arm and holding it in a vice grip.

They led you out of the mansion and into the harsh winds of the tundra. It wasn’t until Snowchester was far off in the distance that Technoblade shook your arm, “what the hell were you thinking, going into someone else’s house like that! You don’t know who lived there, you could’ve gotten yourself and Michael killed!”

“You really thought I wouldn’t find out, didn’t you?” You ripped your arm out of his hold and spoke in a low voice, struggling to contain your full rage. “I have a goddamned right to know about them.”

“...I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Philza muttered out and resumed walking back towards your house. “You’re grounded when we get back, no flying or dueling lessons for two weeks.”

“Of course you know what I’m talking about, Dad! Why are you hiding them from me? I have a right to know about my biological parent even if they’re dead!”

They both halted in their tracks and glanced at each other in slight confusion. “What-”

“You know damn well who I’m talking about. Gods, I can’t believe you thought I’d never find out,” you laughed sardonically as your hand subconsciously gripped your growing horn. “(Y/n)! You know, the demon that lived in that house? The one that looks exactly like me?! Does that ring a bell or do I have to show you this?”

You rummaged in your pocket and ripped out the picture, shoving it into Philza’s hands. Technoblade looked over his shoulder at what you gave him. You watched as their expressions turned blank when they saw the demon in the picture.

Minutes passed with them continuing to stare down at the picture and you were slowly getting impatient. “Why did you never tell me about them? Why are you keeping me from them?!”

Without looking up at you, Philza mumbled, “you weren’t supposed to find out about them. You were never supposed to find out.”

“Do you have any idea how ambiguous that is? Just tell me who they are!” You could feel your eye twitch as your frustration grew.

You could see the internal conflict on Philza’s face growing by the second before he dipped his head downwards and stalked off in the opposite direction of the house. You spread your wings to chase him in the air, but Technoblade’s hand on your upper arm stopped you from lifting off.

When you looked up at him, the look of regret and sorrow etched into his features caught you by surprise. “Let him go, he needs to do some thinking… (y/n), do you know what reincarnation is?”

General taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@crybabyjabby @izzybobizzy13 @goldenstarofthunderclan @bunnyz-pxstel @averytiredfanfictionwriter @dcml04 @sparkling-gayyyy @bbigbbrainn @thaticecreambish @kiinokochii @satansphatass @bxkubitch @bxmentchildxx @roxy3457 @montygator17 @feverish-dove @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @jichuuchaeng @404rynnotfound @luluwinchester @laura--444 @the-cult-classic-bitch @youngstarfishdinosaur @nottheotheruser @ohworm-writes @localwolfanon @realitycanbeajerk @v10dw4lk3r @esylwen @seraphsema @boiled-onionrings @smolgreenybeany @louistommosnesquickmilk @hyacinthrosearsha @ryxjxnnx @autumnpleaves @ravennightingaleandavatempus @0ton1n @self-righteous-dumbass @a-simp-for-block-people @fortunatelylazystranger @m1lkmandan @mirios-sunflower @ahmya-4 @shinipii @noyasblush @auroraskyfall @cryptocry @hee-hee-haw @blackstar-gazer

Gender neutral reader taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@totem-awooga @parkeepingparker @whatislifebutlemons

#michael_beloved x reader #technoblade x reader #philza x reader #dream smp x reader #mcyt x reader #tw: swearing

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vixenpen · 3 years

Note

Dabi smut with a teacher. Like in some quirkless au or something (He’s scarless but hella pierced and tatted), he had to pick up kid!Shoto one day and he sees his hot black teacher (Sis got thickness and curves for days, even in simple clothes) So he consistently picks up Shoto (even when he doesn’t have to) just to hit on her and when he finally scores a date with her, he’s at his limit after seeing her in casual wear and how amazing her personality is.

I LOVED this request. I had so much fun writing it and the details were amazing! I hope you enjoy

Hot For Teacher (Dabi x Black Reader) Quirkless AU

“Ah, come on kid,” Dabi sighed, expelling a stream of smoke as he waited at the curb for his baby brother to get out of school.

He rolled down the window to air out the car and watched the stream of middle schoolers burst through the double doors and head to their respective busses or cars.

“Shooo,” Dabi groaned, “where are you? I got shit to do, kid.”

He enjoyed hanging out with his youngest sibling, and he had no problem picking the kid up, but he also had a business to help run. If he didn’t get back to the shop in an hour and a half like he’d promised Hawks, he’d get an earful about responsibility and time management and blah, blah, blah.

He leaned back in the driver seat, deciding to give Shoto another fifteen minutes before he texted the kid.

Just then another wave of kids exited the building, Dabi’s bright blue eyes scanned them before landing on the finest woman he’d ever seen in his life.

Her cream colored silk blouse popped beautifully against her rich brown skin and a pair of slacks hugged her wide hips. Her makeup made her dark eyes sparkle and red lipstick painted her pouty mouth.

Dabi sat up, turquoise eyes running up and down that beautiful body of hers as the sexy teacher strutted past to talk to parents and wave good bye to students. When she turned around, his eyes slid down to the fattest ass he’d ever seen and he licked his lips.

Damn it must be hard as hell for her students to concentrate in class.

She turned again and began walking back towards the school. Fuck! If he didn’t stop gawking he would miss his chance. He couldn’t let that happen.

Holding his cigarette between his lips, Dabi quickly stepped out of the car and took leggy strides to catch up with the teacher.

“Excuse me.”

She turned around, her big dark eyes landing on him. Immediately Dabi knew she was sizing him up and wasn’t impressed. She gave that same disapproving teacher look Fuyumi gave whenever she was put off by someone.

Regardless, he flashed her his most charming smile. He may not be a goody two shoes like these other khaki wearing dads out here, but he knew he looked damn better than any of them.

“Sorry to bother you ma’am. I was just hoping you could help me out.”

“Sure,” she smiled back, showing off a pair of pretty white teeth. “Let’s start with that cigarette. It’s against our school policy to be smoking on the premises so if you could.” She cocked a brow expectantly.

Dabi cocked his own pierced brow back in response, but quickly stubbed out his cigarette on a nearby janitor’s cart and threw it away in the accompanying trash can.

Her smile widened. “Great. Now, how can I help you?”

Dabi chuckled. “Well, ya see, I just got this new phone and cleared out all my old contacts. Ya know, new year, new me and all that,” he shrugged, “anyway, my contacts are pretty empty now. So, I was wondering if I could get yours.”

She let out a little snort of amusement.

“That’s your pick up line? How many Girls have had the misfortune of hearing that one?”

“You’d be the first,” Dabi smirked back. “Figured the usual ‘hey beautiful, what’s your name’ line wouldn’t exactly help me stand out.”

“Trust me, you don’t need help standing out.” She replied, eying him again.

“Then that means I’m ahead of the game, right?” He held out a hand, “I’m Dabi.”

Tentatively, the teacher shook it. “Ms. Y/n.”

“Ms. Y/n, huh...” Dabi repeated slowly, his eyes ran over you with a barely masked longing. “Not ‘Mrs’?”

“Not yet.” You replied.

“How soon are you looking to change that?” Dabi asked, his smirk growing a bit smaller and more intimate.

“Who said I was looking to change it at all?”

“Certainly not me,” he replied, “that’s why I asked. I would love to talk more about how much you don’t want to change it over dinner sometime though.”

You fended off a smile. You were not about to give this over confident asshole any encouragement.

“Sorry, but I make it a point not to date my student’s parents.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not a parent then.”

“Oh? So you just like to stroll on the campuses of random middle schools and hit on the teachers for fun?”

Dabi chuckled again.

“I’m here to pick up my little brother. Ah, hell, speaking of which, I actually could use your help with that. Kid hasn’t come out yet and I’ve already been here over half an hour.”

Your pretty face immediately crumpled with worry.

“What’s your brother’s name?”

“Todoroki Shoto.”

“Oh!” You looked surprised. “Shoto. I think I saw him headed towards the baseball field. I think the team has practice today.”

“Dammit! Really? Well, I better go say hi to the kid anyway. You mind, uh, leading the way?”

“Sure.” You shrugged.

Turning, you took the lead and guided Dabi towards the baseball diamond behind the school. You could feel the man’s eyes on your ass the whole way, and couldn’t help but put an extra switch in your hips as you did. Much to his appreciation.

You had to admit the man was fine as hell. The black undercut with lines cut in the side, his multiple piercings and even the colorful tattoos you saw peeking from under his fitted black tshirt were hot as hell. However, you had long since given up on bad boy types. You preferred nerds. Still a little light flirting wouldn’t hurt anything, right?

“There he is.” Dabi stated once the two of you verged on the field. He held up his hands to his mouth and called out: “Yo, Sho!”

The boy looked up, heterochromatic eyes widening in surprise.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had practice today you little half and half?”

“Why don’t you ever check mom’s texts?” Shoto shouted back. “She told you to come later.”

You snickered as Dabi pulled out his phone and checked his text messages.

“Huh. Well I’ll be damned.” He muttered to himself. “Alright, kiddo, I’ll be back in an hour!”

“Can you stop shouting and leave now?! I have to concentrate.”

Dabi laughed before turning back to you.

“Anyway, thanks a lot for your help Ms. Y/n.”

“Just doing my job.”

“Still, I would love to thank you properly. Maybe over coffee.” He said, sounding hopeful.

“Before it was dinner.” You quipped, playfully.

“I know. I‘m just planning for future dates.”

You giggled, shaking your head. “It was nice meeting you, Dabi.” With that you turned and strutted off.

“I hope you know I’m gonna keep trying until I get a yes or no.” He called after you.

As you entered the school’s back entrance you could hear Shoto shouting: “Can you please stop hitting on my teachers? I have to see them everyday!”

Unfortunately for Shoto, his plea seemed to go in one overly pierced ear and out the other because almost everyday since then, Dabi made it a point to stop and talk to you when he came to pick up Shoto.

“Hey there, Ms. Y/n. My contacts are filling up fast. You sure you don’t wanna reserve a spot?”

“Sorry Dabi, but my no dating policy extends to immediate family members as well.”

“I hated to cancel our reservations, but you’re left me no choice, Ms. Y/n.”

“Nobody told you to make reservations, Dabi.”

“Dinner was lonely the other day. If only I had a beautiful black queen to keep me company.”

“I’m sure There are plenty of black queens out there that would have loved to accompanying you to dinner.”

“Yeah, but they wouldn’t have been you.”

Dabi was unrelenting. Always complimenting how amazing your outfits looked on your skin tone, how flattering your make up was, or if you wore a new hairstyle or new jewelry.

You couldn’t lie. The attention was both flattering and refreshing. Since becoming a teacher, you usually only got hit on by studious academic types. Attractive yes, but straight laced and all the same with their game

Unfortunately a disturbing amount of married dads also tried their luck with you.

But Dabi was different.

He may have been a far cry from your usual type, but he was always perfectly respectful and even funny. Not to mention he was much closer to your own age than other men that came on to you.

He must have started bribing Shoto for help or asking him about your interests too. Because sometimes when he would see you, he’d have a new book to give you or your favorite iced tea from a cafe you always frequented. Which, admittedly, was pretty damn cute.

The tatted up alt boy was actually growing on you. So one day, when both of you least expected it, you finally agreed to give him your number and go on a date.

That was the first time you ever saw him straight up smile. Not smirk or grin. He actually beamed. Just like a little boy who’d been told he could have a puppy.

Ok, ok. You admit it—he was cute.

Hopefully, that charm would extend over to dinner.

When the big date came, Dabi cleaned himself up. Opting out of his usual dark attire for a deep blue fitted Ralph Lauren polo and skinny khakis. He even took out some of his piercings in an attempt to look more presentable. He thought he cleaned up pretty nice if he did say so himself, but it was nothing compared to what you strutted in wearing.

Dabi had gotten used to your stylish but conservative work attire. He was so used to your hot teacher look, that he forgot you probably had some regular clothes in that amazing wardrobe of yours.

And damn did you pick out the most show stopping dress you had. You wore a wine colored dress that cut low in the front showing off those juicy tits of yours and stopped above the knee. The heels you wore made your thighs look even yummier and your ass was jiggling out of control with every step.

Down boy. Down boy. Down boy.

He scolded himself.

“Well, don’t you clean up nicely, Dabi?” You teased.

“I’m Touya tonight, beautiful.” He struck a pose like a GQ model. You laughed. “Dabi was that guy that kept hitting on you, Touya’s the guy that’s gonna try not to screw it up.

“Oh,” you ran a manicured finger along his solid chest, “well, I agreed to a date with Dabi, but I guess Touya could be fun too.”

Dabi licked his lip, and your eyes fell on his tongue piercing, hungrily.

“Depending on how well the night goes, you might see Dabi come out later tonight.” He replied, suggestively.

You rolled your eyes, but could feel your cheeks (and your pussy) warming.

“Boy! Come on.”

Dabi as Touya opened the door to the restaurant and ushered you inside.

The restaurant he took you to was definitely a high end place; complete with soft candle light, a jazz quartet, and a maître d’.

The chemistry the two of you had definitely translated over dinner.

Dabi was just as funny as he always was and he was genuinely interested in getting to know everything about you. He hung on to your every word about the funny things your students did in class. He enjoyed hearing your college stories. He even knew some of the books you enjoyed reading and could talk literature easily.

You discovered that he was the co-owner of a tattoo and piercing shop. He was the oldest of his siblings. And he enjoyed traveling and learning new things.

Dabi enjoyed vibing with you. He loved that your personality and sense of humor was just as amazing and substantial as that body he wanted a piece of so bad.

Dinner rolled into drinks and lasted well into the night. By the time the two of you were done it was damn near four A.M.

From that night on, you and Dabi became practically inseparable. He picked you up from school right along with Shoto for dinner after work, swung by with coffee, bought you any and everything you wanted (he does come from money after all) and after a year of dating, you became more than just a ‘Ms.’

Pt.2

#dabi x black!reader #dabi x reader #flirting #first dates #bnha fluff #my hero academia #bnha imagines #bnha #bnha scenarios #my hero fanfic #bnha headcanons #dabi scenarios #touya todoroki #mha headcanons #black writers #curvy reader

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existslikepristin · 3 years

Text

What A... Bummer

Desc: The fic that (sort of) started it all. Sorry for the funky formatting, as this was mostly just copy/pasted from Discord, where I ran the polls. You may also find it here if you prefer AFF: https://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1462191/what-a-bummer-aka-i-m-so-sorry

Tags: TheLounge, Gfriend, Eunha, Yerin, maleOC"you", mostly butt things, angry bunny, vote story, backlog story

~~~~~

You knock on the dressing room door. Just inside is your Gfriend... as in "good friend" Eunha. Today is a very exciting day, and it's been a long time coming. She released her first solo album at midnight and she was at the first show where she would perform it live in front of a camera.

The two of you have been close... "good friends," as they say, for a while now. And you managed to convince security to let you in so you could give her a gift before she goes on stage. After all, you're proud of her accomplishment!

You hear shuffling inside the room and know she's on her way over. You really hope she likes the present!

What was the present again?

Options: 1. Champagne, baby! You got the expensive stuff! 2. A basket of healthy fruits! You're wholesome as fuck! 3. Your buddy Yerin! Can't celebrate without a good laugh! 4. (Picked:) A buttplug?! Who the fuck do you think you are?

~~~~~

You hold the box behind yourself as the door opens. Just inside is your buddy Eunha, all by herself. Not a surprise since you saw her manager downstairs earlier.

And she looks awesome. Her hair is cut short again, just to her jawline, but instead of curling in like her normal bob, it flares out at the bottom. She's got on a white shirt, cut low enough to just tease at her cleavage (even though you happen to know she's hardly got any cleavage without the pushup). Below she's wearing a super short black skirt, with a slit on one side that nearly reaches her hip bone, but her safety shorts hide the real goods. You know she has some tall black heels for this outfit since you were there when her stylist picked them out, but she's barefoot for now, nails on her fingers and toes painted all black.

She shouts happily and jumps up to wrap her arms around you as soon as she sees you. You barely manage to keep her from dragging you down to the floor, putting your arms around her too. "You came!"

"Of course I did!" you shout, "Congratulations!"

The top of her head barely reaches your chin while she's on her toes. She nuzzles her head into your neck. Her hair dresser would flip her shit, but it's okay if it's just for a second, right?

She suddenly grabs the box from your hand. The sly little idol.

"Yerin told me you were bringing me a present. I thought she might be lying, but..."

Eunha tears the wrapping off the box. You'd be a little offended, but you did the same thing to the last birthday gift she got you.

"Now... what am I supposed to do with this thing?"

Eunha holds up the butt plug. You grin, recognizing the excellence of the thing. Stainless steel, polished like a mirror, a bright red gemstone embedded into it (and yeah, you got a real gem for it), and big. Real big.

Options: 1. (Picked:) "You keep it inside you, once I help put it there." 2. "WOAH. That's not what I thought it was, I swear! Yerin tricked me!" 3. "How the fuck should I know?"

~~~~~

"What are you supposed to do with it?" you ask as you take a couple steps forward.

"You keep it inside you, once I help put it there."

Eunha puts the butt plug up to her mouth. "Like this?" She licks it and puts it in her mouth, as far as she can at least. She looks up into your eyes, looking as innocent as she can. You would almost buy the stupid act too, but you know she's got somewhere to be.

You grab her by the shoulders and spin her around. Then you drop to your knees so your face is directly next to her ass. It takes up your whole field of vision. But still, there's no time to waste. You grab the sides of her safety shorts and yank down. As expected, there's nothing underneath and you can instantly spread her glorious cheeks to be greeted by...

Oh damn, she's already got a plug in.

Eunha giggles above you. "Don't worry. I like yours better. Help me swap them and you can keep that one."

Not a bad solution.

The plug takes a little work to get out. Eunha half-moans, half-laughs as you wiggle it back and forth to get it moving. She reaches back to spread her ass cheeks to give you better access and a fantastic view.

And eventually, with a little pop, the plug comes out. It's much smaller than the one you brought, made of silicon, and much more boring.

You stand and hold it in front of Eunha. She instantly sticks her tongue out to lick off the lube.

"It's almost like you've done this before, isn't it?" you ask with a smirk.

"It's almost like you know that personally," she says over her shoulder.

You take the brand new butt plug out of her hand and get back on your knees. Eunha instinctively spreads her ass again. You can still see some of the glistening of the lube that was there for the last plug, so it's probably at least safe to put the new one in without anything extra. Then again, the new butt plug is pretty big...

1. (Picked:) Stick it in rough. This might mess up her performance, getting you a punishment later. 2. Give her a good lube up with your tongue first. You know from experience that she loves this, and you'll be well rewarded later.

~~~~~

You know, you and Eunha have been good friends for quite a while now. How bad would it really be if you messed up her performance just this once... And besides, her cute, tiny little asshole just needs a real good stretch sometimes right?

Right.

Eunha waves her ass from side to side, bent over a bit, mostly for the presentation. "I'm ready for it. What are you waiting for?"

Well, she said it! You line up the top of the plug at her lube-short hole, earning you a sultry giggle from the idol. You give it a slow twist to one side, the other side, brace your elbow, and shove like you've never shoved before.

You're not quite sure whether or not you were successful. It seems like time slowed down... You felt the tension of her ass resisting the plug up to the widest part, followed by it giving way as it tapered back down. But that only took a second or so, and Eunha didn't react. The dressing room is dead silent.

Then, Eunha falls to the floor. To her knees, then onto her hands. You're more than a little worried, so you move to her side to see her face. Her mouth is open like she's screaming, but there's still no sound, until she whispers, "What... the f-f-fuck... is wrong with you?"

Her eyes slowly turn in your direction so you give her your biggest, winning smile. But there's fire in her eyes. You're suddenly feeling like you may have made a bad choice.

There's a knock on the door and a voice comes through, "Eunha? We'll be starting your stage in five minut--"

"I'LL BE RIGHT THERE!" Eunha screams. You hear the PA muttering as they walk away.

You open your mouth to say something, but you forget what it was when you get smacked in the jaw. Eunha is still holding herself with one hand, but the other is floating menacingly next to your face, nails looking beautiful but also ready to tear you apart.

Clearly trying to compose herself, Eunha lowers her head and whispers again, "Go find Yerin... and wait for the stage... now."

It's probably best not to argue. You get up and and make your way to the door. You turn back to look at her though. She hasn't really moved, and you get a great look at her thicc ass sticking into the air with your plug poking out from between her cheeks.

You know for sure you're going to get punished later, but you think maybe you should say something?

Options: 1. Apologize. You can admit, you fucked up. You'll still get punished, but maybe she'll go easy on you? 2. (Picked:) Never mind, say nothing. You'll obviously just make it worse. 3. Just laugh. Eunha doesn't have connections to any hitmen, does she?

~~~~~

For the sake of your personal safety, you think it's probably best to just go. You slip through the door quickly so nobody can see through the door and make your way to the stage.

Yerin is pretty easy to pick out of the crowd for you, as she's wearing her usual thick sweatshirt, plain jeans, tennis shoes, hat, facemask, and glasses that make it impossible for her to be recognized in public. She's in the back of the crowd, holding a gigantic sign that says "I LOVE YOU EUNHA I WANT TO HAVE YOUR BABIES" as a joke. You remember the first time she said that was when Eunha was fucking her with a strap on. It looks like everyone in the crowd is too busy practicing their fanchant to really notice the overtly sexual (and nonsense) sign.

"Yo slut," you casually say as you walk up next to her.

"About time you got here whore," she says back, clearly grinning mischievously behind the mask. You smirk back.

"So, did she like her gift?"

Your smirk fades, "Uuuh. You know, she will probably have to tell you that herself."

"Mmm, I will. And then I'll take it out of her, put it back in and lick all around it... ugh, I'm so wound up. Hey. If I masturbated while we watch the stage, would you keep an eye out so I don't get caught?"

Options: 1. "Of course! I've always got your back my dude." 2. (Picked:) "You want to do it yourself? But I'm right here." 3. "Woah, Yerin. Don't be so weird. Just enjoy the show like a normal person. Sheesh."

~~~~~

You give Yerin a smirk and move behind her. She points at her eyes and swings her hand in a circle, her nerdy way of telling you to keep watch. You get the feeling she'll enjoy what you have in mind.

After a couple of minutes go by, the fans scream as the stage hands walk off and the lights go dim. You and Yerin join them in the cheer, welcoming your hot little buddy into the spotlight. Yerin holds her sign high and shouts her support.

As the lights come back up, you see Eunha, cool and calm like the professional she is, with her backup dancers. You're a little surprised (and slightly disappointed) at her exceptional composure.

The first note of the song hits and the crowd instantly shuts up, ready to fanchant like hell. That's when you seize the chance to shove your hand down the back of Yerin's jeans and pop the still-lubed butt plug (the one you took out of Eunha earlier and never did get rid of) into Yerin's ass. It slides in like butt...er.

Eunha jumps into her dance and Yerin jumps up and down with the music with no regard for your hand down her pants. You feel like you might get a rash. But either way, you soldier on and reach in further, until you can touch her clit.

There's one move in Eunha's dance that draws a big gasp from the crowd, where she bends over and presents her ass. Her safety shorts hide the butt plug... for anyone who isn't paying close attention. They aren't especially good at hiding how deep the crack of her ass is, and there's just one very slightly bulged out part.

Yerin moans back at you, "Holy shit, she is so fucking hot up there," as she grinds herself down against your hand, drowning your fingers in her juices. "I just want to sit on her face, pull her legs back and pump a dildo into her helpless butt."

You smile at the thought. Maybe Yerin will be on your side if Eunha is still angry when you meet back up, considering that she also wants to destroy Eunha's asshole.

Yerin doesn't quite cum before the song is over. You take your hand out of her pants just in time not to be seen by all of the fans turning around to leave. She groans in frustration.

"Let's run to the dressing room and see if she can finish me off. I was so close!"

Options: 1. "Hey wait. She might be a little mad. I may have done something a little mean..." 2. (Picked:) "Yeah, definitely! Let's go get those shorts off her!"

~~~~~

You confidently walk through the halls next to Yerin. The whole time, Yerin bounces up and down, distracting you with the constant thought of ass. A couple times she even turns her head, sees you staring, winks, and spanks herself. You forget entirely about the confession you considered making.

Once at the dressing room, you see that the door is already open. Weird?

Yerin jumps through the door and shouts "YEAH EUNHA!"

The display of enthusiasm is met with silence. Yerin scratches her head and walks further into the room. "Maybe her mic got stuck in her hair?" she ponders.

You walk in too. You're about to comment, but there's a sudden sharp pain in the back of your neck. You attempt to put your hand up to slap at whatever bug got in here, but your hand just falls limp. So do your legs. And your vision goes dark as you vaguely feel yourself falling to the floor.

* * *

"He's waking up," you hear a garbled voice say. All you can see are blurry shapes as you open your eyes, but they come into focus very slowly.

"Don't stop!" another garbled voice shouts, making you suddenly feel a pounding in your head. Did you go too hard on some vodka?

The voices (or just one voice really) start clearing up. You hear Yerin moaning, turning slowly into a scream. And eventually your eyes confirm it.

About ten feet in front of you, Yerin's face and torso are pressed against a bed, with her butt held up against Eunha's face. Her legs are trembling wildly. Eunha's hands are gripping Yerin's hips tight, her eyes are closed, and her legs are folded underneath her. They're both entirely naked, and you have a side view of it all.

It would be a little more exciting if you weren't chained by the legs and wrists to a wooden chair.

And you look down to see that you're naked too, other than some kind of device locked very uncomfortably around your dick.

There's a thud as Eunha drops Yerin onto the bed. Yerin is apparently exhausted by the orgasm she just had, because she's not moving.

Eunha shakes her head to refluff her hair that was being pressed against her cheeks and looks at you.

"Good morning," she says blandly.

You try to respond but your tongue feels weird and doesn't move properly so you kind of just blubber.

Eunha slides off the bed and takes a few steps to stand right in front of you. A tiny drop of her cum falls from her pussy onto your knee. Damn, they must have been at this for a while.

Her entire body is bare in front of you, practically on top of you, and it's so incredibly sexy. Under normal circumstances, this is when she would sit down and ride you for hours. But she isn't sitting down, and your dick is being painfully stopped from getting hard by the contraption it's in.

"So... do you have anything to say now?"

Options: 1. Yup. Apologize. 2. (Picked:) Yeah, you enjoyed her solo debut! 3. Nope. Nothing to say. 4. Yes.. BeGONE, THOT

~~~~~

You smirk, ever so slightly unsure of yourself, or if what you're saying is a good idea. The corner of your mouth trembles as you say, "Yeah, I really liked your solo debut. You did great up there."

Eunha leans over, putting her hands on the back of the chair you're tied to. It would be a great chance to stare at her perky little titties up close if her threatening gaze wasn't holding your eyes. Her face comes in closer. You can feel her fuming hot nose breaths on your forehead. Your own breath is caught in your throat, and your lungs start to burn with how long she stares you down.

"Be glad I'm a professional. And thanks," she says, very flatly.

As she stands back up and turns away from you, and you release a huge sigh of relief.

"Yerin, over here please. I'm going to need your tongue in my ass."

With a groan, Yerin rolls off the bed and crawls to Eunha, kneeling between her and you. Eunha leans forward, putting her hands on the bed for support. If there was any question about what your punishment was before now, it was pretty clear now.

Eunha spreads her ass, her perfectly painted black nails creating a frame for the asshole you love so much. It's only a few feet away from you. You can feel your dick trying to harden but the cage just makes it... well it doesn't hurt, but it's extremely uncomfortable.

And then Yerin's head appears between you and that beautiful butt. Her hands grip onto the backs of Eunha's thighs, squeezing the flawless flesh as if she were trying to hold herself up on the edge of a cliff. You know the exact moment when Yerin's tongue meets Eunha's ass. The shorty has a very characteristic half-squeal-half-moan that comes out of her every time something wet touches it. You might have thought you could look away to stop the discomfort in your cock, but that sound brings back too many memories of your entire face being buried in those cheeks.

"Oh... Oh yes. Good girl."

You watch as Eunha slowly pushes back against Yerin's face, over and over. It lasts for hours? Days? You could never tell. Her squeals and encouragement get louder, more urgent. You can't help but let out a quiet groan of your own.

But like the rabbit she is, Eunha heard. She twists her upper body to look at you without disturbing Yerin. "What was that? Do you want to fuck this ass? Do you-- fuck..."

Her eyes screw shut as a brief shiver of pleasure runs through her body. You can see her legs quaking for a moment. She's close.

"Do you want Yerin's pretty little mouth to dip up and down on your cock to lube you up for-- fffuck!"

Again, a shiver. It's longer this time, and Eunha almost falls, her feet sliding a few inches farther apart before she catches herself. There's a loud slurping noise as Yerin moves to accomodate the change and gets a much needed breath of air.

One of Eunha's hands shoots to her inner thigh and you can barely see past Yerin's shoulder that she's squeezing herself tight. She would often remind you about how she would do that to make her orgasms more intense, so now you know exactly what (or rather, who) is coming.

Even so, she manages to gasp out nearly a full sentence, "You want my ass clenching around your cock when--" The last word melts into one long squeal and trails off from there into a silent scream. Her whole body shakes violently except where Yerin is holding her down tight.

You could swear it lasts for a whole minute. Agonizing for you and Eunha in different ways. But when she collapses face first onto the bed, her knees hitting the floor softly as Yerin guides her down, it's over. Except for the few extra twitches when Yerin gives her ass a couple of licks. You release a long breath that you didn't even realize you were holding.

Yerin climbs up to cuddle Eunha from behind, kissing her neck, shoulders, and back. The two of them giggle lightly at the gentle touches, making no move to point their beautiful, still-wet asses away from you.

"Time for your fanmeet?" Yerin asks softly after a minute or two.

Eunha sighs and pulls herself away from Yerin. "Yes, I guess we should get going."

As you expected, you're not getting any. At least not soon. You casually watch the members making their way around the room, collecting their clothes and getting dressed back up.

And notably, not untying you.

"That sure was amazing," you say, suddenly nervous, "Maybe I should help set up the chairs for the fanmeet?"

Yerin chuckles, "They're already set up, man."

"But... the audio right? You know? Do some mic checks?"

Eunha stands in front of a mirror, brushing her hair to get it back to looking presentable. "Oh that's fine. Manager's taken care of it."

You struggle to think of something else to say, or to think of what's about to happen.

"But don't worry," Eunha struts over to you and pats your knee, "SinB will be coming in after the fanmeet to let you go."

You groan. SinB rejects you any time she thinks it would be funny, which is literally every time. She probably won't even unlock the cage on your dick.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Eunha smooches your forehead like you're a pet she's leaving home for the day, and then drops a key down her shirt and into her bra. It's not hard to guess what the key is for. "And when I do, I'll have cheered up, and I'll bounce on your cock harder than you can imagine."

Yerin draws in a sharp breath somewhere behind you. She's probably planning on being around whenever that happens. You can't help but look forward to it, though it sounds like twenty-four hours of torture for you until then.

The lovely ladies zip out of the room before you can get in another word, leaving you to the inevitable humiliation SinB will have for you... in an hour or two.

THE END

#gfriend smut #kpop smut #eunha #yerin #male reader insert

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bored-storyteller · 3 years

Text

Thank you dear Anon for your request! Also because, I had already started writing a possible sequel on my own, your request arrives perfectly!

Note: I imagined these events after the one-shot you find here. In any case there are only subtle references.

35- Tokyo Ghoul- Uta x human!Reader (pt. 2)

"Beyond the Mask"

Uta sees you there, curled up in the chair in front of the table like a wet little bird, despite the fact that you are now wearing his warm clothes, which fall softly on your frightened figure. He doesn't mind lending it to you, on the contrary, he tried to find something that wasn't too extravagant, coming out with a heavy black sweatshirt and wide gray pants. He thought that this clothing could help you put yourself at ease, but he also understands that being wrapped in his clothes for you doesn't have to be so reassuring. You probably accepted this only to avoid being immersed in the nauseating humidity of the body fluids that stick to your skin.

He can't tell if your following him was a sign of courage or fear. You didn't say anything, and the few words you whispered were kind; you also thanked him. It almost seems like you are straining to try to be calm, but it's the small, meaningless gestures that betray you. Earlier you insisted that he be the first to shower and change, although it would have been more logical for you to go first; yet perhaps for you that was a way to get the killer monster out of sight, or at least partially forget it.

Uta is unable to understand you right now, nor does he really pretend to, he is already grateful enough that you are intelligent enough to understand that it would be almost suicidal to return to your home in the condition you were in, especially after what it happened.

No, he doesn't pretend to understand you, but to understand himself a little more, yes. Uta is a labyrinth, with a thousand streets inside, which intersect and cancel each other out. A thousand paradoxical streets where after a turning point you can find someone completely different than the person you met. Yet all those roads are authentic and sincere, in their sweetness or in their violence.

He is aware of this, it is clear to him, but as the owner of his soul he should know how to pull the strings, understand what is happening inside. Yet he doesn't know now, or he can't really explain it.

He feels sadness, a deep sadness to see you so small and afraid. He would like to hope your snuggling up to him in that alley was dictated by mutual trust and not despair, but he doesn't even know if you're aware of that. He doesn't really want you to be scared of him, but at the same time he sees no way to stop it.

He also feels angry with you. Because deep down he knows that you are unconsciously judging him. The same fear you evidently feel makes him angry. He didn't eat you, right? So why do you have to be so scared in front of him? It was you who ran into his arms, wasn't it?

Yet he still can't tell you that, because you are doing absolutely nothing threatening towards him. You simply indulge him timidly, tremblingly accepting his care that will never be able to reassure you.

Maybe you've never really felt as confident in him as Uta hoped. Being in his house, first naked in his bathroom and now in his clothes maybe it wouldn't have been pleasant for you even if he had been human, let alone now with all the terror you've accumulated… after what you saw.

Uta is the author and accomplice of things that you would consider horrible, it is his nature, he is not able to change, he needs that to feel alive.

But you also make him feel alive. He likes that cordial, playful confidence that you take with him, the one that remains within limits, but which somehow transmitted the affection of a kind heart; like that time, when you playfully smeared his nose with red paint with the brush you were using. You apologized right away, but you laughed happily and enjoyed watching him, and Uta liked it, so much that he returned the favor with some yellow color.

You are spontaneous, and he likes it, even if now this spontaneity of yours is pulling you away from him, even though you try to pretend it isn't.

In the end, he really wants to take care of you. But how can he do it? He can't even really offer you anything other than a cup of bitter coffee.

He looks for a moment at his own reflection in the dark drink, so indistinct and blurry, before placing the cup on the shelf in front of you slowly.

You look at him suddenly, as if you have just woken up. Uta smiles kindly at you: he has always been kind to you. You smile at him too, but he could swear that you only do it to please him, for fear of a negative reaction from him.

He would really like to sit in front of you, so he can talk as you do every time you meet in the coffee shop, but he instead leans against the wall with his back, a wall quite far from your warmth and your presence. He too has a hot cup in his tattooed hands, but he doesn't really want coffee; maybe he just hoped that if he drank something familiar to you - something that didn't speak your language before he was devoured - you would trust again.

You take a sip, probably more out of politeness than out of desire, and your expression turns into a small involuntary pout as you perceive the bitterness of the coffee on your tongue.

Uta would find it funny if it weren't for the whole situation.

"I'm sorry…" his quiet voice of him draws your attention to himself. He doesn't really know what he's apologizing for. "I have no ... sugar ..."

The relaxed musicality of his voice is slightly cracked by uncertainty.

He has no sugar to console you, no regular sugar at least. It's already strange that he got the coffee. He never really welcomes real guests, only customers, now that he thinks about it; there are rare times when he really has to welcome someone outside of his "business", generally speaking.

You do not answer immediately, your gaze cannot help wandering over his figure, his body, his chest and his abdomen.

He smooths his baggy black sweater, as if to make you realize he's noticing your eyes, and then take a sip from his cup.

"Don't worry, it's okay ..." you assure "in the end ... I like to try new things ..."

Are you talking about sugar?

Your voice is a twitter that leaves him with vague hope. Are you trying to tell him something?

He's not really afraid of you going around talking, you told him you wouldn't and he knows you won't. You are not that different from Renji in this.

You turn the cup over in your fingers, looking at that dark liquid, and then turn to him again.

"Don't ... want to sit down?"

You ask him shyly, as if you feared rejection, but you asked him anyway.

You amaze him, of course. That is a little melancholy surprise, your calling him close, your giving him a little illusion of closeness.

But do you really want him there?

With a nod he slowly approaches, as if he is approaching a wounded animal - or prey - and he slowly sits in front of you.

The cups of coffee that nobody wants look at each other, placed in front, close together, like when you happen to meet at the end of the day in the cafe. It was a good time for Uta, he enjoyed pretending that there were no Ghouls and Humans, silenced his hunger so attracted to you and focused on the pleasure of your presence as if you were no different.

But now the charade is over, you two are not alike, and for some reason it hurts him.

Your gaze rests docile on his face, and he smiles lightly.

He is beautiful, you really think so. In a way, those red and black eyes are the only ones that fit him. Uta is not of an objective beauty, he must like him, and you really like him.

"You know..." your murmur puts him on alert "I ... I hear the news but ... it's hard to think that it could happen to you, when you hear about ghouls ..."

"It didn't happen to you."

His calm voice stops you immediately, and despite his flat tone makes you feel accused. He didn't hurt you, you can't say he's your turn. If anything, he is the turn of your tormentor.

"I ... no ... I meant that I had never thought of meeting one ..."

You justify shy, and he realizes he scared you. You're probably thinking that the first misstep you take will automatically become his next meal.

His lips press in a thin line, while he looks at you calmly.

"We are not that rare, you know ..."

He informs you, understanding that you would never speak if he remained silent.

There were ghouls even more integrated into human society than he. You were kind of his exception to him, his regular break from his violent life, even though he still had other human connections.

"Do you want to eat me?"

The question comes out suddenly, interrupting any flow of thought. It is less insecure than you thought, but deep down you both know that that's the core of it all.

He looks you straight in the eye, without giving in to the gaze and somehow gluing your pupils into his.

He could tell you that if he had wanted he would have done it already, he could say many things, yet he doesn't want to lie, he owes you and you owe it to him.

"It would be nice."

His voice is kind of calming despite the harshness of those words. As scary as they are, you don't react, and let him talk again.

"But it would also be extremely sad for me."

His tattooed fingers twirl around the slowly cooling cup, and you wonder if his heart has started beating a little faster, like yours, despite his mute expression.

"As tempting as eating you may be ... it would be very sad not to see you again."

A spark suddenly lights up in your eyes, it's so beautiful and bright that Uta opens his lips slightly in amazement, seeing that little light in you, so unexpectedly. He can't say if it is the hope of being able to live still that ignited it or that unspoken admission of affection, but that's okay with him.

"Would you be sad, Uta?"

You ask with a voice covered with expectations. He does not know how it happened, but it seems that your focus has shifted to something else, so suddenly.

Your cheeks just blush, and you smile as you look down at your hands. That smile isn't for him, it's for you. Uta wasn't hoping to see you smile again, yet there you were, wrapped in his baggy clothes smiling genuinely, as if you had suddenly forgotten the fear.

Your fingers intertwine in front of the cup, and your face doesn't dare lift up on him, but this time it's not fear that stops you.

“A Ghoul… sure, I had to know. In fact, in the end I knew it. Being a human would have been too trivial for you. "

Take another sip of coffee, and this time you commit yourself to putting up with the bitterness, even if you don't quite succeed.

Uta allows himself a slight amused smile.

"Oh yes?"

His is a rhetorical question that you just nod.

He drinks too, plunging both of you into a less heavy silence, but which still lingers in Uta's mind doubts that he would like to silence.

"Now where will you go?"

He is used to those he cares about disappearing far away. It wouldn't be new to see you walk away from him, he's not really hoping to be able to hold you back, despite what you said. Life simply changes people, and with them the world, he is aware of it, as he is aware of the fact that after this night the world between you two has changed, and as always you will be the one to change with it, while he will remain there, immobile.

"Do you want ... I have to go home?"

You ask confused, glancing towards the door. Night out scares you, you prefer the wolf's lair more than the dark and unpredictable shadows of the dark hours.

You didn't understand what he meant, how could you? Yet somehow Uta expected you to do it, he expected you to tell him this was goodbye. Yeah, is this goodbye?

"No, you don't have to go home if you don't want to ..."

It's hard to ask you to stay, to really stay. It is difficult to ask you to stay with him, because if you refused it would be a defeat, if you felt forced you would no longer be you.

“So you can't eat the food? Normal food I say ... so the idea of inviting you to lunch is out of the question. "

Your words break the melancholy in his mind again. He looks at you, his head slightly bent towards his right shoulder:

"Did you want to invite me to lunch?"

You wonder if it's really that surprising that you had such an idea. Should you be ashamed of it? Maybe this is inappropriate for him?

"I wanted. I mean, I've thought about it. It seemed nice to me. "

It seemed nice to you. You were cute, Uta often thought that. Here it is again, your gentle affection; it would have been a problem to refuse you if you really asked him to share lunch. He had never gotten used to pretending to eat human food, even though he tolerated smells quite well by now.

“Anyway, that's a kind thought of you. Thank you."

Without the glasses, his expression is even more gentle. It seems paradoxical, compared to the figure of him, but still, Uta is so unique.

"Not very kind if it kills you."

You mutter to yourself, looking away in embarrassment. In fact, now that you really know he's a ghoul a lot of your talk may no longer make sense.

"No ..." you hear him chuckle slightly, lightly and yet amused "we don't die so easily unfortunately for you ... I'd end up feeling extremely bad."

Suddenly the argument between you lightens up without either of you really noticing. He feels it, almost palpable, the boulder in his chest becoming light at the sound of curiosity that colors your voice as you confirm that you understand: it is the same curiosity as when you ask him questions about his masks, the colors he uses or his tattoos, he clearly recognizes it, which has now almost become part of both of you.

"I have so much to ask you, Uta" you admit, smiling at him fondly "but for now, thank you for everything you've done."

His nonexistent brows go up, looking at you as if he's asking if you were serious. But you did, sure, he knew.

"Thanks to you for bringing me dinner downstairs."

Uta doesn't mince words, he never did, and it was something you loved. He was always contemptuous and edgy in his calm and delicacy of him, it was a humor all of him, no one could ever look like Uta.

He makes you laugh, despite the macabre implied, and he's happy. He feels lighter, freer, and this seems to apply to you too.

One of his laboriously painted hands moves towards your face. He doesn't even notice, it's a gesture dictated by instinct, from his heart. Only when he's about to touch your cheek does he freeze, dumbfounded as to what to do, wondering in his head what the hell he was doing, why he did it.

He fears to see you retract at his touch, fears to see you hide and still does not understand why he fears so much the rejection of a human, a human who should be food and who instead twists his stomach with just a look.

He tries to retreat first, before it's late, but your hands stop him.

His fingers are now squeezed between yours, tenderly, as you tenderly bring them to your face. The hand that presses on his back is warmer than his skin, but the one that squeezes his palm has frozen fingertips, he feels them pinch against his skin. In yet another gesture of care for you, his fingers close on yours, to warm them.

And while you hold him he holds you, you hold both of you, and he knows you don't know him, that you haven't seen the dark side of him yet nor does he know if he will ever have the courage to show it to you, but for now that's okay .

Now he's no longer alone in his charade with you. You are no longer his audience, you are the actor who responds to his sentences in front of that cruel world. But luckily now, behind the scenes, his mask is no longer needed.

"I promise I'll take you for a better coffee tomorrow."

"I accept with great pleasure."

#uta tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul x reader #uta x human reader #uta x reader #anime oneshot #oneshot #Tokyo ghoul oneshot

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instasiswetrust · 3 years

Text

Steve's not quite drunk but there's a pleasant buzz under his skin that leaves him feeling pliant and loose, enough to keep any unsavory thoughts at bay for the time being.

The scent of chlorine and bleach that envelops him once he opens the pool doors, familiar comforts by now, help clear some of the haze of alcohol that has befallen him from his last drink taken at the Auris that night. Or morning. He's not entirely sure.

It brings back the memories that he had been trying so hard to forget. A lavender envelope had been in his mail that day, inside of it an invitation trimmed with delicate filigree. For Nancy's and Jonathan's wedding.

A fall wedding.

The type which he and Nancy had joked about back when they were together, not long before Jonathan had joined them.

He had gone through his work with the kind of detachment that usually meant nothing was truly registering. Adam might have noticed at one point, too attuned already to the tells under the porcelain of Steve's mask, but the memory is fuzzy and he can't remember if he ever gave a proper answer to his manager's concerned query.

As soon as work was done, he had made his way to the Auris in search of something to get his mind off the pain that clutched the shards of his heart like a vice. Or rather, someone. It had been his favorite dancer's day off or something though, leaving him to spend the rest of his night watching the dancers on stage and sipping on the ocassional drink.

Something had made him want to climb the stairs to the gym's pool, though. And that's why he was here now.

"Are you drunk?" The voice that speaks has become familiar in the same way the scent and sounds of the pool has and when he looks up to meet the eyes of its owner, he finds them startled if slightly amused.

"Only a little bit." He shrugs, plopping down by the edge of the pool with his legs crossed under him. The bleach might leave stains on his Levi's but he can't really muster enough energy to give a fuck right now. "'s not that bad."

"You kind of reek of cigarette smoke and whiskey."

Yep. Definitely amused.

"Spilled some scotch on my shirt. The smoke is probably from the cab driver." Another shrug but this time he levels Billy with apologetic doe eyes. "I can leave if it bothers you."

"You're fine, I was just curious." The blonde swims closer, crossing his arms over the edge next to where Steve sits once he's close enough. "First time I've seen you up here wearing something other than your ridiculous pajamas."

"They are not ridiculous!" Steve protests at once, pouting. "And you have seen me in swimwear too!"

"Last week you were wearing bright red shorts that said Bite Me across the ass, and a t-shirt that said Friends don't lie in big bold letters with a heart-shaped waffle at the center." Billy deadpans, raising a single eyebrow. "The shirt was at least two sizes too big for you."

"They were gifts." Brown eyes narrow into a glare but the petulant pout kind of offsets the vibe.

"I thought models were supposed to have taste in clothes."

"We're supposed to look pretty while others dress us. It's not in the job description to have taste."

"So you admit you have no taste then." Billy was giving him that smirk, the one Steve called insufferable but discretly considered hot as fuck. How dare he be so sinfully handsome.

"I said no such thing!" Steve crosses his arms over his chest, tipping his chin up in the perfect picture of snotty petulance. He could already feel the laughs bubbling in his chest, wanting to break the mock facade.

It takes only a second or two of Billy giving him an skeptical look before they are both laughing.

He had missed this kind of easy-going banter. Most of his friends he only saw around the holidays, and the environment at work was more prone to talks about weight loss and botox than anything else.

New York never slept but that only made it all the more lonely.

His sullen mood must've reflected on his face because he feels something poke at his thigh, meeting Billy's eyes when he turns to look at him.

"You didn't just come here so I could make fun of your taste in clothes, did you?"

"I-"

It's only then that Steve realizes Billy is right.

The reason his alcohol fogged brain has preferred to come up here rather than crash into his bed wasn't just some way of punishing himself even further. Not entirely at least. He had come here because it was a place of comfort for him.

And because he had a friend here, too.

"No. Not just that." Steve sighs, letting his eyes focus on the slow movement of the pool water instead of Billy's face.

"Do you..." A moment of hesitation, as if he's not sure about his words. "want to talk about it?"

Brown eyes close, keeping his focus on the in and out of air through his lungs for a few moments until he feels less like he's going to burst out crying the moment he sets these awful thoughts into words.

Makes them all the more real.

"My... exes. They are getting married. To each other." He doesn't open his eyes, doesn't do anything more than try to keep his voice steady even as the aching pain of heartbreak weighs down on his chest. "I received the invitation this morning."

There's a low whistle. It sounds like sympathy. It sounds real.

"That bites," Billy says, and his voice has a dulled edge to it. Commiseration with flavor, or something like that, but it's three am and there's nothing but cold tile and the soft wake of lit water. "Is this ... like a sudden spur of the moment thing?"

When Steve turns doe eyes to him, Billy raises up his hands, only moderately pruned, in an easing gesture.

"You don't have to answer. Just..." A pause. A beat as the swimmer looks for the right string of words. "Just trying to gauge how much of a dick move this is."

There's a laugh, dull and mirthless. A sad little sound.

“We have been friends since high school. All three of us dated for a bit longer after that. We went through some hard stuff together back in Indiana.” He shrugs, keeping his eyes closed. Tears at bay. “Was supposed to be the kind of friendship that lasted even after we broke up.”

It’s all my fault. He doesn't say.

My stupid heart and I. We ruined it all.

It takes a split second of contemplation, because, after all, they're total strangers. But once upon a time, someone gave Billy this sideways kindness and it helped. Maybe Steve and his overly fancy hair won't mind it too much.

So Billy acts on the impulse.

It's a tiny splash. Really very minuscule. Aimed and precise for the minimum impact upon the sitting duck target. But water is water. Nobody can tell tears from pool water.

"You were thinking too hard." He places the excuse on the table, sinking lower into the water, comfortable in this strange company. Even if the guy seems to be at the end of his rope. There's something about him. Like a dream you don't want to forget. "I could see the smoke. Had to cool you down."

The water is warm and yet is still enough of a shock to force Steve's eyes to open.

His first instinct is to protest, say something about the action being rude and uncalled for. Stand up and leave, most likely.

But what he sees in Billy's face — hears in his voice — is enough to give him a moment's pause. To truly appreciate the action for the small kindness it is.

This time when the tears dribble down his cheeks in quiet drops, he has something to hide them behind.

“You really think you're funny, huh?”

And if his voice is a little too wet to be considered normal, they don't have to talk about it.

"I'm hilarious," Billy says as he sinks a little lower into the water, mostly to hide his smug grin, but in part to hide away. "The girl gang that lets me tag along sometimes says so."

“Of course you are.” Steve rolls his eyes, using his fingers to brush back his mostly dry hair. He should probably wash the chlorine out of his hair before going to bed or it would be stiff come morning.

“Is that why you're trying to become a prune? For maximum fun effect?”

“Nah,” Billy waves off the prune comment. He’s hardly started his routine. Pool time ain’t over until everything has that post-workout burn and his stomach begs for food. Makes time easier to keep that way. “I just like to swim.”

Just like Tony Hawk likes to skateboard, he supposes, but understating his profession like this is one of the best parts of the job. Gotta get your kicks when you find them.

“Why? Got something against prunes?” He laughs, “They just want to help you. Healthy stomach, and all.”

“Not particularly, but they do remind me of my Nonna. She likes her prunes.” Another shrug, this time easier. Easy banter is much better than worrying about that little envelope sitting on his coffee table.

The tears have stopped too, the contacts itching slightly against his eyes. Probably from the mix of salt and chlorine. Thankfully, his cardigan is mostly dry and he takes it off to use it as a makeshift towel.

“Is that why you're always here at weird hours? You some sort of pool cryptid or something?”

“That’s only step one of my master plan.”

Billy likes the sound of pool cryptid. Sounds a lot more mysterious and fun than what he’s actually doing, which is training until he drops so the nightmares won’t kick up.

A snort, loud and sudden leaves Steve at that, straining a little in his throat. Mom would say it's undignified. Dad would say it's ugly. He doesn't particularly care either way.

“And pray tell, what would step two entail? Flooding the city?”

Cute laugh, Billy thinks briefly surprised. Much better than seeing the guy choke back tears. Let's see if he can't instigate a bit more of that amusement. It's bound to taste better than the misery the brunette wanted to wallow in.

"What kind of water-based supervillain do you take me for?" Billy, mock-miffed, places a hand over his heart and huffs. "That's so silver-age comics. And you're not even my henchman. Why should I tell you anything about my master plan?"

A finger taps at his chin, seemingly thinking hard about his answer. Steve's not particularly well versed in comics but Dustin’s done his best to keep him on the smallest of loops.

He no longer mixes Superman with Captain America, at least.

“Fair point. You don't have the looks to pass off as Aquaman.” Steve purses his lips, offering his best apologetic doe-eyed look. Although he's definitely bluffing because if there's anybody out there who could give Aquaman a run for his money it would be Billy. “And who says I couldn't be your henchman?”

"Did you fill out the paperwork?"

Everyone knows bureaucracy is the lungs of evil. Or something like that. Sue him, he was never great with metaphors on the fly.

“Honey, if I wanted to fill paperwork I wouldn't have taken modeling as a career.”

It's an exaggeration for the most part. Steve's too used to poking fun about himself these days that it doesn't sting as bad as it used. Not too much.

Billy cocks his head and lets the loaded sentence drop and drift away.

"Then guess you can't be a henchman."

“I can make killer margaritas, though.”

“I don’t really drink too much.” The nightmares get worse when he’s anything but sober. It’s better to be exhausted. It’s the easiest way. “Medication reasons.”

A little white lie that’s hardly a lie, he really shouldn’t drink with his ADHD meds, but who ever listens to that rule? Nah. Only when it suits him.

“Model thing explains your hair though. Glad we solved that mystery.”

“Fair.” Steve offers a smile, crooked and a little pinched at the edges but a smile nonetheless. “I’m not supposed to either. Nutritionist's orders.”

To be fair, he's not supposed to be drinking at all. Smoking too. It's a little hard not to indulge every once in a while, though.

The model comment surprises him. There's a billboard with his face just a few blocks down from this apartment complex. He can see it from his room. How has this guy not recognized him?

It's surprisingly refreshing.

“Hm? Oh no, the model thing has nothing to do with my hair. That's just personal taste.”

Now that Billy cares to look, Steve’s face is achingly familiar. Oh, the trials and tribulations of having attention issues. At least there’s a better reason for the weird familiarity than must just have one of those faces.

“Can’t relate.” He’s not particularly attached to any bodily feature of his. It’s a side effect, he’s told. Reassured. It's just a consequence, and nothing more. “Doing things with hair? Nah. Sounds too complicated.”

“Sounds like the kind of thing a pool cryptid would say.” There’s a story behind Billy's words. Something missing, hidden skin deep. Steve hopes the light jab helps diffuse that somewhat.

“What are you, a cop?” Billy smirks, and because he is the pinnacle of maturity, he dips under the water with an obnoxious splash.

“Asshole” Steve hisses, droplets dribbling down his bangs and into the cardigan bunched up in his lap.

With a sigh, he forces himself to get up. Might as well take that shower now.

Billy surfaces, still grinning, because even if the guy looks pissed at him, that means he’s not stewing in the past with his soon-to-be-married exes and the Hercules-class weight of baggage that relationship caused.

“Guys by the pool get splashed. No matter what time it is or how cute they are. Cryptid rules.” His smirk it's wide, tip of his tongue between his teeth. "If you weren’t prepared to get wet, then why’d you come?”

Steve shrugs, doing his best to ignore that peek of a pink tongue. “The local cryptid makes for good conversation.”

“So you’ve been watching me?” Billy makes a little show of floating back, caught in thought. “I don’t know how I feel about spectators.”

“I can stop.” Painfully honest. If Billy really wants him to, Steve would stop. He would prefer not to, though.

“Nah. I’m only pulling your leg.” Billy returns to the pool’s edge. Rests his cheek on the edge, looking up at pretty boy model Steve.

“Things get too quiet sometimes.”

Steve hums softly in agreement, feeling relief ease itself back into his bones. He would have stopped, yes, but he wouldn't have particularly liked the prospect of it.

“You come here every day? Or have I just happened to stumble in on the days you're around?”

"Almost every day. Sometimes I take this side-show to other pools." Billy cracks his best Han Solo roguish smile, levies it against Steve's still too flat smile. "Gotta keep the government guessing sometimes, you know."

“Of course, wouldn't want to get caught and all that.” A yawn gets past Steve's lips, startling him. He hadn't registered how tired he was. “I’ll keep that in mind, for next time.”

“Thank you.” Quieter. Softer. Barely above a whisper but loud enough in the gentle silence of the pool.

It comes just as soft. It's almost tender, really, as the word casts across the water and tile and the near-lonely pool.

"Anytime."

---

The next time Steve visits, it's once again 3 AM but he makes the mistake (is it really a mistake?) to bring a tin of sugar cookies with him.

"Oh shit, are you sharing, or is this all to tease me?"

Steve is sitting by one of the benches, already halfway through a cookie. “Come out here and find out.”

Billy narrows his eyes, lips pulled into a thin frown.

"Fool me once." He waggles a single warning finger and doesn't even really bother to dry off as he drags himself out of the pool to plop down on the floor next to Steve and steal into the snacks.

There are enough cookies for both of them stuffed neatly in a tin container. It's awfully pretentious according to Dustin, but then again Steve's Nonna always said cookies tasted better stored that way.

“I'm not mean enough to just eat while you watch. Yet, at least.”

"Oh just wait until you know me better." Billy chirps, shoving two into his mouth, wholesale and choking a bit.

"Robin and Carol would do that in a heartbeat."

“They probably would have a good reason too.” Steve teases, watching with amused eyes as Billy almost chokes. They are just sugar cookies he managed to scrounge up with whatever was in his kitchen. Nothing that good.

“Easy there tiger, cookies ain't going anywhere.”

"You have no idea how hungry I always am."

Steve blinks, surprised. The words come out before he has a chance to truly think them over. “I’m a good cook.”

"Prove it." It's out of Billy's mouth before he can take it back, but on second thought, he doesn't really want to. Steve's good company, or at least he has been so far.

And he hasn't had a nightmare since.

Good omens.

“You're kind of choking on the proof right now.” Maybe it comes out a little lighter, a little too surprised.

That's fine. Whatever this thing is, it doesn't seem like too bad of a chance to take.

“But if you need some more convincing, I can offer dinner too.”

Wheezing, but recovering, Billy grins up at Steve but there's a hopeful spark in his blue eyes that wasn't there before. "Fuck yeah, gotta make sure it's not a fluke."

Steve offers him the thermos of coffee he had brought with him, suddenly too distracted by watching Billy drink to remember what he wanted to ask. “Uh... When are you free?”

"This Sunday, I think. Getting back from a rapids trip that I shouldn't keep doing but like fuck am I gonna listen to other people for something dumb like my health."

“Is it like, you could die type of thing or just one of those things doctors say we should stop doing and everyone ignores? Because dead people don't particularly eat.”

"I do dumb shit because regular training gets boring and people who actually like me have to put up with it." Billy waves a dismissive hand. "But that's what it takes to get me moving on schedule so. Yeah."

It drives his coach insane because doing his reps in real rivers with real currents isn't exactly... well. It's not what everyone else does for training and given that he has passed out mid-stroke before, he can't even say the risk is just the current. But he knows that upstate rivers like the back of his hand.

Yeah, life would be way easier if he didn't have ADHD, less doctor's notes for the cause of amphs in his piss, but it would also be super boring and he'd be even more traumatized, probably. And that would suck.

Steve thinks of Indiana, and a bat full of nails. Of cliff diving at the quarry, drunk on stolen bourbon and tasting cheap cigarettes. Of the Auris with his slew of dancers most of who he's shared a bed with more than once.

He thinks he has some experience with the whole doing dumb shit just to get his schedule moving.

"I will take your word for it then." Hums, thinking back to his schedule and what he has paged in for Sunday. There was that casting thing Adam wanted him to do but it was morning. "I should be free on Sunday. Any allergies I should account for?"

“None that I know of.” Spoken cheerfully

“Great. Gives me more to work with.” And this time when he smiles, it's the most honest he's offered since they met.

---

When he finds it again, it is entirely on accident.

Adam had scheduled a trip to California for a gig, something about a new summer line of wetsuits and surfboards this company wanted him to advertise. It was a big opportunity and it was good cash too, of course so Steve wasn't going to question why they thought it a good idea to present a summer line in the middle of august. But as usual, he had forgotten to pack his suitcases until the night before, and now he was left to scramble around his apartment searching for his stuff.

So when he finds the lavender envelope buried under a few recipe books and a hoodie, still unopened, he doesn't think much about it and opens it. It's only when he's staring at the date stenciled in black calligraphy under Nancy's and Jonathan's name that he realizes what he's looking at.

Oh right. Those two were getting married.

The familiar ache in his chest is still there, but it's muted enough that he's surprised. Between canceling his exclusive membership at the Auris, and his relationship with Billy coming out to the media, he had sort of forgotten all about the wedding.

Maybe...

Grabbing his phone from the bed, he shoots his boyfriend a quick text.

How do you feel about being my plus one to my exes' wedding?

#WIPs #stranger things #model au #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove

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dimigex · 3 years

Text

I Won’t Lie - Kakasaku

It’s finally done!! I started this piece years ago but never finished it. It’s the follow on to my story Distraction, but you don’t have to read that to understand it at all.

Distraction, I Won’t Lie, Part One, Part Two, Epilogue

Here’s the first part, the rest is linked above and also available on FF.

"So, have you put the moves on the Hokage yet," Ino questioned, applying black eyeliner with a practiced flip of her hand. Her aqua blue eyes stood out in sharp contrast, seeming larger than they had any right to.

Sakura groaned from the bed, falling back to cover her face. "I never intended to put the moves on him," she mumbled, hoping that Ino wouldn't be able to see the crimson flush of her cheeks. "And, it didn't work anyway. Kakashi doesn't know that I exist."

Ino jerked the pillow away and leveled her best friend with a stare. "He definitely knows that you exist, but you need to remind him that you're a woman now, not a little girl." Her gaze swept over Sakura from head to toe. "Why don't you put on something a little more interesting tonight?"

"What's wrong with what I have on?" Sakura frowned at her outfit. Okay, the leggings that she wore were more comfortable than provocative, and her mother would have approved of her shirt, but that didn't mean there was anything wrong with it. She always dressed like this when they went out. It wasn't her fault that Ino had more outfits than any other girl that Sakura knew, and an uncanny way of making everything look sexy.

"Nothing," Ino answered, with a smile curving her cherry-red lips. "As long as you want to die old and alone."

Sakura threw the remaining pillow at Ino's face, narrowly missing. "Shut up, Ino-pig," she grumbled, reverting to the insult that had become a friendly nickname over the past few years. Sakura tugged at her shirt for a moment, chewing her lip "If I agree, can you make it look like I'm not trying too hard?"

A grin split Ino's face. "Of course. We have to find just the right outfit to show off that body you worked so hard for."

Before Sakura could protest, the blond pulled her off of the bed and toward the closet. Nearly an hour later, Sakura examined her expression in the mirror, shocked at the illusion that Ino had created. Long lashes framed her green eyes, making them stand out against her pale skin. The faint dusting of freckles that Sakura usually hated had taken on a soft glow from the highlighter Ino used. Glossy lips completed the expression, in a shade lighter than Sakura ever thought she could pull off. Ino hadn't stopped there. She'd transformed Sakura's hair as well. The pale tresses piled on top of her head, falling in artful curls around her face.

Ino pulled Sakura from musing about how she looked like an entirely different person by tugging on the dress. The blond dragged the black fabric to the side, baring one shoulder. It draped Sakura's body, accentuating enough to suggest that she had more curves than she really did. Chuckling, Sakura pulled the fabric toward her knees. Ino slapped her hands away. "Stop that, it's supposed to be short."

"I can't wear this," Sakura complained even as she turned to admire herself from the side. It hugged her body in a way that none of her other outfits had.

Shaking her head, Ino walked over to the closet and tossed a pair of heels to Sakura. "You can, and you will. No one will be able to keep their eyes off you, especially not Kakashi."

Color flamed in Sakura's cheek, hidden somewhat by the makeup. "What if he isn't there?"

Ino's devious grin made Sakura nervous. "Then you'll go home with someone else. You look too damn good to go home alone tonight"

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

When Ino and Sakura swept into the pub nearly half an hour late, dozens of heads swiveled in their direction. Ino linked an arm through Sakura's and pulled her into the room before she could back away in a fit of self-consciousness. Her gaze swept over the people gathered for Naruto's birthday, trying to ignore the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Kakashi wasn't there yet or not coming at all, everything they'd done had been a waste of time.

Forcing the hopelessness down, Sakura caught sight of an overbearing ball of sunshine cutting through the room. Naruto's grin probably had more to do with the atmosphere than alcohol, but she couldn't be sure. He threw an arm around Sakura's shoulder and pulled her into a side hug. "I was beginning to think nobody from my team was going to show up tonight."

When Naruto released Sakura, his blue eyes slipped lower than her neck. The blush on his whiskered cheeks was obvious even in the dim lighting. "You look nice tonight. I mean, not that you don't always look nice-" Sakura's laughter cut off the awkward exchange, and Naruto managed a nervous smile before rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't think Sasuke is going to make it tonight."

"Unfortunately, Sasuke's mission has him delayed outside the village." The proximity of Kakashi's voice made Sakura jump. When she turned, she realized that he stood just inside the doorway behind them. Their gazes locked, and Kakashi's eyes widened, perhaps only just now realizing that she'd been the one standing with Naruto. While pink hair was unusual in the village, a few girls had started imitating Sakura after the war. She hated it, but the element of surprise was nice.

Ino unwound her arm from Sakura's and moved away to speak to someone that Sakura didn't recognize. Completely oblivious of the tension of the moment, Naruto caught Kakashi with his other arm and pulled them both into a hug. Sakura felt the warmth of Kakashi's chest against her side. "I'm glad you two made it, at least."

Kakashi pulled away, chuckling in the back of his throat. "Of course I came, I have to keep an eye on you kids to make sure you don't get into any trouble."

"We aren't kids," Sakura grumbled, challenging Kakashi with a glare through her mascara lengthened lashes. "We're adults now."

"That's right, sensei. We don't have to listen to you anymore." Naruto laughed, giving Kakashi a cheeky grin.

Kakashi frowned, the barest movements of his mask. "I'm still Hokage, though."

"For now." Naruto's banter eased the conversation into playful jabs that allowed Sakura to stay silent. Kakashi hadn't even responded to her comment about being an adult now. Her heart sank lower in her chest.

As the men exchanged barbs, Ino reappeared from wherever she'd been. Grabbing Sakura's hand, she led them to the bar. "It's pointless," Sakura complained, leaning close so that the words would only be loud enough for Ino. "He'll always view me as a kid. I'd be better off chasing Sasuke."

"Absolutely not," Ino hissed, vehemence dripping from her voice as she raised a hand to order drinks. "Sasuke isn't even on the radar for you. Do not put yourself through that again."

Sakura nodded and toyed with the silver teardrop earring that Ino had loaned her. She knew that Sasuke was a bad idea. The boy had never acknowledged her, not really. And now, it was the same with Kakashi. At best Kakashi saw her as the child that he'd mentored years ago. At worst, the annoying girl that she'd been during those early days. She'd never change that.

"Let me tell you my secret, Forehead." Ino shoved a shot glass into Sakura's hand. "It just takes five seconds of insane courage to get whatever you want. That's it. Just five seconds of bravery, then the hard part is over. You either have the thing you want or you don't, but at least you'll know."

"Is that how you landed Sai?" Sakura asked, closing her grip around the glass of liquid courage without questioning what was inside it. The idea that Ino actually liked Sai and wanted to be with him when there were so many men that she could have had was something that Sakura had trouble wrapping her mind around.

Ino laughed and tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. "Yes, Sai. And, all the others."

Gossip suggested that Ino had worked her way through half of the eligible shinobi in the village. There was a great deal of truth to it. Ino had dated Shikamaru for a couple of weeks before the pair decided that friendship was less troublesome than a relationship. She and Kiba had been fireworks from the beginning, fighting almost constantly. Choji was too gentle, Lee too exhausting, Shino too quiet, and the list went on and on. Somehow, Ino landed on Sai and found that the man matched her surprisingly well. Sakura had already noticed the girl looking for him in the crowd.

"Drink," Ino commanded, nodding toward the alcohol. Sakura steeled her nerves and tipped the glass up. The liquid burned the entire way down, making her gasp for a breath. Ino clapped her on the back. "Good, now let's go and find someone to make him jealous over."

"Ino, no." Sakura pulled away from her best friend with a firm shake of her head. "It doesn't matter. It's just a silly crush."

The look on the blonde's face suggested that she didn't believe Sakura's excuse, but she didn't force it. Sakura let her gaze wander over the people brought together to celebrate Naruto's birthday. He had touched so many lives, and since the war, most people recognized that. Naruto had wanted to do something at Ichiraku, but the stand was too small for all their friends. They'd made arrangements for the celebration to be held here, but white bowls of ramen dotted most of the tables.

Kakashi drew Sakura's eyes like a beacon. He stood in the shadows beside Captain Yamato, heads close together as they spoke. It had surprised Sakura to learn that the men were old friends, especially since Kakashi held so many people at a distance. Sakura and Naruto had grown closer to him, of course, but there didn't seem to be many others. Tsunade and the other jonin perhaps, but the ease between Kakashi and Yamato spoke of actual friendship. Sakura felt a twinge of jealousy. Why couldn't it be that easy for her?

Ino leaned close, the scent of alcohol drifting from her lips. "You know, Yamato isn't bad looking either."

Sakura considered the words. While Yamato didn't hold the aura of mystery that Kakashi did, his easy smile and kind eyes made him attractive in his own way. Even so, no matter how much Sakura watched the pair, her eyes strayed to Kakashi. As she'd expected, he'd worn his uniform to the party. The sleeves of his black shirt were rolled up against the heat of the room, while his hands were tucked into the pockets of matching pants. Kakashi's mask remained in place, of course, but the headband that used to slant across half of his face was missing. Two charcoal eyes stared out at the room, silver hair falling into them.

"Oh, it's definitely just a little crush," Ino teased, pulling Sakura from her longing gaze. "Why don't you just go and talk to him? Ask him to dance or ask him back to your place. Just do something besides staring at him."

When Sakura started to protest, Ino rolled her eyes. "Come on, I've seen you kick ass so many times, but you're scared to talk to a boy? The worst thing he can do is turn you down. And, if that happens, it's his loss."

It isn't that easy, Sakura started to argue. Only, she knew that it was. She'd been pining after Kakashi for months, treasuring stupid, little moments that probably meant nothing: the way that his arms had curled around her on the training field, how his eyes lit up when he laughed at her joke about Tsunade trying to kill them both with reports, or the startle when her fingers had brushed his wrist. Those things made her wonder if there might be something more, but Kakashi was impossible to read. The sudden intake of breath when Sakura touched him could just have easily been discomfort as desire.

"I think I need another drink," Sakura declared, putting away the miserable thoughts for another day.

It didn't take long for the pleasant warmth of alcohol to loosen the tension that seemed permanently attached to Sakura's shoulders. She relaxed enough to dance a couple of turns with Naruto. He was far more awkward on the dance floor than any shinobi had the right to be. After two dances, Sakura begged off and pushed him toward Hinata. A few months ago, the girl had finally gotten brave enough to let Naruto know that she liked him. The pair was slowly turning into a couple, but the transition was painful to watch. They were both too shy for their own good.

Sakura stumbled back toward the bar, surprised to admit that she was having more fun than she'd thought she would, even if Kakashi ignored her. As she reached for her glass, Ino flashed a pleasant grin that warned Sakura that the girl was coming up with a plan that Sakura wasn't going to like. Without explaining anything, Ino linked their arms and dragged Sakura back into the crowd. Three steps into the walk, once she realized where they were going, Sakura tried to stop the inevitable. But, it was too late. Ino stopped beside Kakashi and Yamato.

The men looked up in surprise, their conversation stopping abruptly. Sakura felt Kakashi's gaze on her face for several heartbeats before it slid toward Ino's. With another signature grin, the blond moved into Yamato's personal space. "You sent my boyfriend on a mission just before the party, and now I have nobody to dance with. It seems only fair that you take his place." Ino held out a hand expectantly.

"Um-I-uh-it was unavoidable," Yamato stammered, a delicate pink blush tinting his cheeks. Sakura almost rolled her eyes. It was pathetic to watch how easily Ino turned him, or any man for that matter, into a stuttering mess simply by batting her eyelashes. She'd thought Yamato was better than that.

To Sakura's surprise, it was Kakashi who spoke next. "I think she has a solid case." Yamato gaped at the man, but Kakashi continued as if he hadn't seen it. "You deprived her of enjoying the evening; you should make up for it. Within reason, of course."

As the implication hit home, the pink on Yamato's cheeks deepened to crimson. Sakura struggled not to laugh at his expression. Ino cleared her throat, moving her hand closer. For a moment, Sakura wondered if Kakashi was going to have to push the man forward. Finally, Yamato dipped his head and took Ino's hand. Sakura couldn't stop her mirth as the pair disappeared onto the dance floor. "He's going to be furious with you later, you know that right?"

"It's good for him. Yamato is too shy." Kakashi leaned his shoulders against the wall, and for a moment Sakura couldn't take her eyes off of the smooth stretch of his body and the way his armor shifted with the movement. Half a second later, she realized that he'd said something. Deciding that it probably wasn't important, she nodded and he continued. "Of course, she doesn't mean anything by it, does she?"

Sakura shook her head, watching as Ino attempted to guide Yamato's hands toward her hips as she moved to the music. He kept moving them back to her waist, embarrassment obvious. Sakura chuckled under her breath. "No, she's quite taken with Sai actually."

"Our Sai?" Kakashi asked, eyebrows rising in surprise.

Sakura nodded, watching as Yamato finally relaxed into the dance and loosened up a bit. "She and Sai balance each other well, like Naruto and Hinata."

Kakashi followed Sakura's gaze toward the bar where Naruto and Hinata were talking. The blond leaned against the edge, telling some kind of story while the girl gazed up adoringly. Two years ago, she'd been too frightened and embarrassed to speak with him, and Naruto too stupid to realize why. With a little gentle prodding, they'd finally caught on.

Kakashi made a sound that might have been agreement in the back of his throat. "You're all pairing off these days, falling in love and getting married."

"Not all of us," Sakura grumbled. Frustration bled into her voice as she continued. "Some of us accepted the weight of duty instead."

A silver eyebrow arched skyward as Kakashi turned to face Sakura. A look of understanding crossed his features, but Sakura doubted that he realized she was talking about him as well. Undeniably handsome, Kakashi could have his pick of women in the village, but he remained alone. He had thrown himself into the role of hokage, even though he hated it. Sakura had done the same at the hospital, though she enjoyed her work for the most part. The two of them weren't as different as he seemed to think.

A stir went through the room. Naruto pushed away from the bar, his voice cutting through the din of music and conversation. "You made it!'

As much as Sakura wanted to continue admiring Kakashi, her attention drifted toward Naruto. He stood in the doorway, arms thrown around-Sakura's mind temporarily shorted out, taking several seconds to catch up with her eyes. Sasuke stood in the spill of light, Naruto's arms wrapped around his shoulders. Raven dark hair and equally black eyes swept through the crowd, taking in everyone and everything. His gaze slid over Sakura, then returned and lingered.

Despite everything, Sakura blushed under Sasuke's gaze. Beside her, Kakashi shifted away from the wall. A hand pressed almost imperceptibly against Sakura's lower back as Naruto approached, Sasuke trailing behind like a shadow. Sakura half turned toward Kakashi.

Naruto interrupted the pair before Sakura could get her thoughts in order. "Look guys, Sasuke made it back in time."

"So, he did," Kakashi answered for both of them, voice cool but not quite unfriendly. "Welcome back."

Sasuke turned, oozing arrogance as he inclined his head toward Kakashi. Dark eyes roved over Sakura a second time, an almost smile curling his lips. Even so, Sakura read the tension in his shoulders. Despite the years that had passed, Sasuke remained something of a pariah in the village. There were some groups who would never forgive or forget the time that he had spent trying to destroy the Leaf, despite Naruto's efforts to change their opinions. Sakura knew that Kakashi had helped save Sasuke from execution or life in prison, but the Hokage's intervention had ended there.

"Sasuke!" Ino appeared from nowhere, throwing her arms around Sasuke in a hug that the man shrunk away from. "Welcome back."

Sakura flashed her friend a thankful smile at the interruption. "You're looking well," Ino continued, pulling all of Sasuke's attention to herself by keeping her hands on his upper arms. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Maybe later," Sasuke answered, voice sounding strained as he shrugged away from Ino's touch. When she released him, the man turned and smiled. "Hello, Sakura."

Sakura couldn't remember how to draw a breath. A thick strand of black fell across Sasuke's eye, adding an air of mystery to his already captivating appearance. Warmth suffused her face when he moved closer, near enough to reach out and brush her cheek if he'd wanted. "Hi," she answered, toying with a silver bracelet circling one wrist.

Sasuke slid between Sakura and Kakashi, angling his body to face hers. "How have you been?"

"I've been doing well." Sakura's answer barely scratched the surface of everything that had happened in her life since the last time she saw Sasuke. She couldn't seem to remember a single event that she wanted to talk about. Yamato approached the small group and squeezed in beside Kakashi while running an appraising eye over Sasuke. He didn't acknowledge the Uchiha's presence. Instead, he leaned closer to Kakashi and whispered something in his ear.

Pulling her attention away from the exchange, Sakura realized that she'd been asked something. It would be rude not to keep talking to Sasuke, so she smiled. "How about you? How have you been?"

"I stay busy following up on leads," Sasuke answered, revealing nothing about his time outside of the village. Maybe he thought that Sakura wouldn't accept his reasons for leaving her behind, or maybe, he didn't care if she did.

After all, how could Sakura expect Sasuke to understand the hours of work that she poured into the hospital, sometimes losing a patient despite her best efforts? Would he care that she pushed herself in training as hard as she's ever done in case they went back to war? Sakura imagined Sasuke teasing her efforts to create orphanages in Konoha. Would he understand Sakura's version of sacrifice when it didn't align with his?

Sakura's eyes drifted back to her group of friends. Naruto stood beside Ino with a silly grin on his face, undoubtedly because Sakura and Sasuke were talking together. He still believed the two of them could make it work somehow. Yamato and Kakashi watched them both without seeming to do so. Sakura couldn't help but wonder if they deemed Sasuke as a security risk, even after all this time. Her gaze settled on the tension in Kakashi's jaw, wondering why he seemed on edge.

Kakashi understood the passion that drove Sakura to fight for those causes. Or, if not, he humored her. Sakura and Kakashi had worked hand in hand to train additional medical shinobi, create orphanages, and work through various issues at the hospital. She'd assumed that Kakashi wanted to see the same outcome that she did. Would Sasuke want that? Did it matter? He wouldn't be in the village long enough for it to make any difference.

Despite the way that things between them had changed, Sasuke still reduced Sakura to a lovesick teenager. It wasn't that her feelings had stayed the same, but Sakura had spent half of her life chasing after Sasuke. She couldn't shake the memory of nipping at his heels, of being willing to throw everything away if he'd only acknowledge her. As Sasuke spoke, Sakura's mind responded on autopilot, answering with soft laughs and smiles.

After several minutes, Ino caught Sakura's attention and half nodded toward Kakashi. He and Yamato had fallen silent, allowing the conversation to flow around them without interruption. Sakura raised her shoulders in a helpless shrug, silently asking what she was supposed to do about the situation. Ino frowned, then leaned in to speak. "So, Sasuke, did you know that Naruto and Hinata are dating?"

The question cut off the conversation. Surprise flitted across Sasuke's face as he looked over at Naruto. The blond's cheeks flamed crimson and he sputtered over his words "Well, Ino is dating Sai," he managed, red from his hairline to his chin.

Ino grinned, tossing her long hair over one shoulder with an air of dismissal. "You say that like it's a bad thing. Sai happens to be far more interesting than you'd anticipate. Not to mention adventurous."

The suggestive nature of Ino's comment made Naruto choke on his breath. His eyes bulged and Sakura couldn't help but laugh; he was still so innocent. Naruto grabbed Sasuke's arm. "Come on, it's definitely time for a drink."

Without waiting for an answer, Naruto pulled the Uchiha toward the barkeeper and further away from Ino's insinuations. Laughing, the girl watched them go. Then, she turned back to Yamato. "I thought you were going to dance with me? And, you," Ino studied Kakashi, "should dance with Sakura so she isn't left alone over here."

For all the nudging that Kakashi had done when Ino asked Yamato to dance, the man seemed less than enthused about taking his own advice. "It isn't befitting of the Hokage to indulge in-"

"Oh no you don't, senpai," Yamato interrupted, already pulling Kakashi away from the wall. "I did my duty, and now it's time for you to do yours. Off you go."

Yamato's brown eyes shone with an inordinate amount of amusement, and Sakura didn't know whether to be thankful that he was pushing Kakashi toward the dance floor, or embarrassed at being some type of twisted payback. Either way, the indecision lasted only a moment. Ino grabbed Yamato's hand and guided him toward the dancers, leaving Sakura alone with Kakashi on the edge of the room.

Kakashi rubbed the back of his neck as he turned to face Sakura. Embarrassment raised the temperature of the room several degrees until it felt impossible to draw a breath. "You don't have to dance with me," she murmured, trying not to sound as disappointed as she felt.

"Ino and Yamato would never let me hear the end of it if we didn't." Kakashi held out one hand, and Sakura slid hers into it. Her pulse pounded in her ears when he leaned closer. "Besides, we only have to dance long enough to get them off our backs."

Sakura didn't trust her voice to speak without breaking, so she nodded and followed Kakashi onto the dance floor. Music blared over the speakers, bass line making her heart pound in tempo. She drew a deep breath and looked into the eyes that had been hidden for so long. Even now, months later, Sakura hadn't gotten used to seeing more of Kakashi's face. She remembered the intensity of his gaze on the training field and the way that she'd wanted to pull him close and lose themselves in the storm.

Just five seconds of insane courage, Ino's voice whispered in the back of Sakura's mind. She could press her body against Kakashi's under the guise of dancing and admit that she wanted more than that. Butterflies the size of elephants trampled over Sakura's chest. If Kakashi rejected her, it would hurt, but she could mask the pain long enough to make it home. Then, she'd be free to deal with fallout. She had done the same thing over Sasuke nearly a year ago. But, if Sakura never took a chance and told Kakashi, she'd never know if there could have been anything between them.

Kakashi spoke, interrupting Sakura's momentum. "You look different tonight."

"Ino begged me to let her try something special for Naruto's party." Sakura chewed her lip, wondering if the words were technically a lie. She wanted to look more enticing as well, more like Ino and less like herself, in hopes that she'd capture Kakashi's attention.

The tempo of the music increased; Sakura allowed her body to follow. She felt the hem of her dress riding up her thigh and tugged it down with one hand. Kakashi followed the movement then snapped his eyes back to her face. He asked something, but the words were lost in the din of the crowd. When Sakura scrunched up her face in confusion, he leaned closer. "For Sasuke?"

For you, Sakura thought, holding the words tight between her lips. The accusation in Kakashi's tone surprised her. "I didn't know he'd be here."

Kakashi inclined his head at the words, expression unreadable. He rested his hands at Sakura's waist without a hint of familiarity or desire. Kakashi moved to the music, half a foot between their bodies. Sakura flashed back to the way his arms had wrapped around her like a glove on the training field. He moved on protective instinct, not to get close to me. The realization left a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Sakura surrendered to the rhythm of the music, turning to present her back to Kakashi's chest so she wouldn't have to meet his gaze. She closed her eyes, willing the ache in her heart to stop. This entire situation was so stupid. Ino was right about everything; Sakura needed to tell Kakashi how she felt so that she could pick up the pieces and move on. She had done it before, and she could do it again.

Fingers curled against Sakura's hips, the thin fabric of her dress hardly masking the feel of Kakashi's touch. Sakura wasn't sure if he pulled her back, or if she moved of her own accord, but she felt the warmth of his breath against her neck. She focused on the sensation, electricity rushing through her body. His damn flak vest separated Sakura from the heat of his chest, but she imagined that she could feel it anyway.

The song ended and the weight of Kakashi's hands fell away as if it had never been. Light pulsed around them as another song started. Sakura turned back to face Kakashi, drawing a shaky breath. "Do you think that dance met their requirements, or should we do another, just to be sure?"

Sakura's name left Kakashi's lips in a strangled sound. Whatever he'd been planning to say was lost when someone bumped hard into his back. He stumbled through the almost nonexistent space between them. Sakura heard an apology, but she couldn't match the voice to a face before her arms were full of Kakashi. She stumbled backward under his weight, tripped over her heels, and then they were falling. Vaguely, some panicked part of Sakura's mind wondered if she was about to give everyone in the room a free peep show.

Kakashi twisted in the air so that Sakura wouldn't be crushed beneath him. His left shoulder absorbed most of the impact half a second before she hit his chest. The air whooshed out of Kakashi's lungs in a soft hiss as their bodies pressed together. Exposure forgotten, Sakura felt his hands grip her, one near her shoulder and the other dangerously low on her back. They were close enough for their noses to brush, Kakashi's eyes wide. The charcoal tone wasn't as dark as Sakura had anticipated, but shot with silver through the iris. She noticed the outline of Kakashi's lips beneath his mask. Kami, it would be so simple to—

"Hokage-sama?" Genma's familiar voice cut across Sakura's thoughts. The man pushed through the crowd to reach Kakashi's side, undoubtedly on guard duty for the night. Sakura raised her head to glare at his poorly conceived timing.

Kakashi released Sakura like he'd been burned, hands coming to the floor instead as he pushed into a sitting position. She half fell into his lap from the sudden change of position. "I'm fine," he answered the unasked question. "I'm hardly old enough to get injured from falling down."

"Especially beneath a beautiful woman," Genma quipped, flashing his senbon-studded grin. Then, his leer slid toward the woman in question and his expression changed to something contemplative as he offered a hand. "Oh, hey, Sakura."

Sakura had no choice but to accept Genma's offered hand. Cheeks flushed with embarrassment, she let the tokujo pull her away from Kakashi. Belatedly, she remembered to adjust the slinky dress lower on her thighs and higher over her chest. Hopefully everything had happened so quickly that she didn't have any reason to be embarrassed. A small crowd gathered around them. Kakashi pushed through them as the music started back up; Sakura followed him to the edge of the room.

"You aren't hurt are you, Hokage-sama," Ino gushed as she hurried to the pair's side. Her brow creased with worry when Kakashi tried to wave her off. Sakura barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her best friend. The ploy was obvious.

"I'm fine," Kakashi grumbled, looking distinctively embarrassed by the attention. "I'm not made of glass."

"Still," Ino pressed, reaching out like she might touch Kakashi's arm. "You hit your shoulder hard when you fell. I saw it."

Sakura could see the wheels turning in Ino's mind. No, please, Ino, don't do this. Sakura's silent plea fell on deaf ears. Kakashi raised his arm to prove that he could, but Ino didn't drop the subject. "You should let Sakura take a look at it, just to make sure. I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

And, there it is, Sakura grumbled internally. Annoyance bled through Kakashi's embarrassment as he tried to wave the blonde's concerns away. Sakura interrupted the exchange before it could get out of hand. "Doesn't anyone care about me? I fell too."

"I could take a look at you," Genma offered with a cheeky grin from his position at Kakashi's shoulder. "In fact, it'd be my pleasure."

"No," Sakura and Kakashi answered in the same breath, dragging a knowing laugh from Genma. Kakashi looked almost as surprised as Sakura felt. Cheeks warming at the insinuation, she continued. "I don't need anyone to look at me, I am fine. But, shouldn't you be more worried about me?"

Genma chuckled in the back of his throat. "Because you're such a delicate little flower? I saw the damage you did to the training grounds the other night. I think I'd rather take my chances with Kakashi, to be honest."

"Probably for the best; she's stronger than you think." Sakura's stomach clenched at the unexpected praise from Sasuke. She hadn't noticed that he and Naruto had rejoined them in the chaos.

"Damn right she is," Ino answered, fighting to keep the attention on anything but Sasuke. Her eyes met Sakura's with silent pleading. While Sakura knew what Ino wanted, some things were easier said than done. Sasuke watched them with a smug satisfaction on his face that Sakura couldn't begin to understand as Ino continued. "What will Tsunade say if you leave Hokage-sama injured until tomorrow?"

Kakashi shook his head as Sakura groaned under her breath. She loved Ino, but sometimes the woman went a little overboard with her matchmaking. "Tsunade would say that it's nothing, and no more than I deserve if I can't keep my feet under me. But, if it'll put your mind at ease, I'll get it checked out."

"It would," Ino breathed out, her concern almost palpable. Sakura wondered why the woman didn't become an actress; she certainly had a knack for it. Ino pulled her forward. "There's no time like the present."

Kakashi cast a withering glance at Ino, then faced Sakura. For a moment, the rest of the room disappeared. Even the overwhelming presence of Sasuke shrank to insignificance. The sheepishness that Sakura had noticed earlier had evaporated, replaced by something darker in Kakashi's gaze. Though Sakura couldn't put her finger on it, the expression made chill bumps erupt on her arms. "Would you mind?"

It wasn't the first time that Sakura had healed Kakashi, not by a long shot. But, it was the first time that he'd asked. Sakura's heart did somersaults in her chest. "I don't mind," she breathed, forcing strength into her words. "But, not here. I need somewhere quieter, with better light."

Kakashi inclined his head as if the words made perfect sense. Naruto groaned, his voice turning whiny. "You're going to miss my party? This is the first time we've all been together in years."

"We won't be gone long," Kakashi assured the boy. "Just long enough to satisfy Sakura."

Ino choked on her laugh, eyes shining. Sakura's cheeks flamed crimson at the insinuation. Kakashi either didn't notice or didn't want to draw attention to it. He nodded toward the door. "Come on, let's get this over with, shall we?"

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

As she and Kakashi emerged from the pub, Sakura drew a breath of the chilly air. Naruto had been the only one to raise an objection to them leaving the party together, but Sakura felt the heat from a dozen gazes as they crossed the room. When they stepped into the street, Sakura's hand slipped out of Kakashi's, and neither made a move to retake it. He stared at the darkness, the stars above, and the benches by the door as they stood under the hazy light of the neon sign.

"I'm sorry that this took you away from the party," Kakashi began with a sigh. When his gaze turned to Sakura, it swept over her body in a way that suggested that he hadn't missed the tiniest facet of Ino's hard work. "You clearly wanted to be there."

"I can always go back later," Sakura answered, knowing that she wouldn't. She didn't want to face Sasuke or Ino after leaving with Kakashi, regardless of what happened next. Kakashi's shoulders seemed to tense at the response, but Sakura wasn't sure if it was her imagination or not. Undeniable nervousness settled in her gut.

Kakashi rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "You don't really need to look at my shoulder. It's fine, but I needed an excuse to get out of there."

"I know," Sakura agreed. She would have realized if Kakashi was hurt, probably before he did. "But, I gave my word, so we should at least check it."

"Do you want to go to the hospital?" Kakashi moved down the street as he asked the question, forcing Sakura to follow on his heels. He didn't turn back when he continued. "Or, would my apartment be okay? It's closer."

Sakura's breath caught in her throat. She knew where Kakashi's apartment was, of course, but she'd never set foot inside of it. That he'd allow her into his world, even for a moment, stunned her. He continued walking, shoulders tight and hands stuffed into his pockets as he waited for an answer. "Your apartment is fine."

The silence gave Sakura unwanted time to think back over the night's events. She had seen appreciation in more than a few eyes when they noticed the changes that Ino had made, but she couldn't be sure that any of it had registered with Kakashi. He'd said she looked different, not better, not beautiful, just different. That word could mean a million things, or nothing at all. Ino was right though, if Sakura couldn't have Kakashi, she could always go home with someone else. Hell, even Sasuke had noticed and appreciated the extra effort in her appearance. There was only one problem, Sakura didn't want to go home with anyone else.

Sakura nearly walked into Kakashi's back when he stopped in front of her and nodded toward the steps leading up to his apartment. Though she knew it was entirely platonic, Sakura's heart pounded in her throat as she followed him higher. Kakashi unlocked the door, flicked the lights on, and pushed it wider. Sakura slid under his arm and into the room, taking in a million details at once.

Kakashi closed the door behind them and bent to remove his sandals. Sakura admired the smooth stretch of his body for a heartbeat longer than she should have. Tearing her eyes away, she rested one hand on the wall and bent down to unbuckle her heels. It felt good to be out of them, if it was only going to be for a few minutes.

"Does your shoulder hurt at all? They're notoriously fragile as far as joints go." When Kakashi didn't speak, Sakura opened her mouth to repeat the question, then had another idea. Five seconds of insane courage. She took two steps forward and reached for Kakashi's arm, the healing glow surrounding her hands.

When Sakura touched his shoulder, Kakashi startled and jerked away. 'I'm fine," he ground out. "You don't have to—"

"Your heart is pounding," Sakura responded in awe, letting her fingers fall away from his arm. The touch had been brief, but the spike in Kakashi's pulse was obvious.

Kakashi forced a harsh breath through his nose. "You're supposed to be checking my shoulder, not my heart."

Five seconds of insane courage. "Your shoulder," Sakura repeated, trying to think over the blood roaring in her ears. Just five seconds. She reached for the straps of Kakashi's flak vest.

#My writing #Dimi Writes #Naruto #KakaSaku #Kakashi Hatake #Sakura Haruno #Mutual Pining #Don't read this at work #Smut #and fluff #There's a lot of fluff

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galahadwilder · 3 years

Text

Future Perfect

This is my @mlsecretsanta fic for @crispypata! Crispy asked for DJWifi and Bunnyx, so I delivered.

It’s been a long week, and Alya is grateful for some alone time. While it’s always nice to have the others around, there’s an unstated pleasure in being the only one of her friends awake this early. Nino and Marinette are always asleep until very shortly before class, and Adrien may be awake, but his driver won’t be here for at least another twenty minutes. That’s a precious twenty minutes away from her sisters, away from anybody else. A precious twenty minutes of quiet.

Normally she’d spend this time updating the Ladyblog, moderating comments, writing posts, but after last night’s battle she just… she needs some time. Time to herself.

She’s shaking, just a little. She’s not even touching her phone. For the first time in a while, she’s actually reading a physical comic book—specifically, The Mighty Majestia Issue #48. Her first comic. A gift from her father when she was a little girl. It used to make her feel better when things were going bad. She needs that, a little bit, today. The feel of the paper under her fingertips.

It wasn’t her first near-death experience—she’s had a lot of those since Hawkmoth appeared in Paris. But Ladybug almost hadn’t made it last night. Alya had gone running after the Akuma, like usual, and…

A body flops down next to her on the bench. The warmth and weight of it—she glances to the side, and meets the familiar warm eyes of Nino.

“You okay?” he asks, laying his hand on top of the comic. “You haven’t read this since before we met.”

Alya nods. “Last night was bad,” she says.

Nino nods. “Yeah,” he responds. “Yeah it was.”

He doesn’t say anything else.

Alya is rarely the most perceptive person—more passionate than perceptive, honestly, though not for lack of trying (she tries really hard, it’s just… hard to tell what other people aren’t saying sometimes)—but she cares, and Nino is at school forty minutes before he’s usually awake and he seems unusually tense. She closes her comic. “Babe?”

Nino sighs, looking down as he picks at a hangnail on his thumb. “I can’t keep watching you die, Als.”

Alya’s heart judders. “You’re not okay, then.”

He shakes his head. “I mean Rena Rouge is one thing. I know you can protect yourself, and Ladybug is right there if things go bad. But every time I see you chase after a giant baby with no protection but that sexy plaid shirt...”

“I have a responsibility, Nino!” she says.

“I know,” Nino says quietly. “I can’t really ask you to stop, either.”

Alya swallows. “Are you... breaking up with me?”

Nino looks at her for a moment, then snorts. “Hell no.” He reaches up to Alya’s cheek, brushing her hair away from her ear. “You ain’t getting away from me that easy, girl.”

Alya relaxes, leaning into his palm. “Attaboy,” she says.

Nino grimaces. “I might… need a day or two to process, though.” He swallows. “I’m sorry.”

Alya’s heart falls. “You’re sure.” It’s not a question—Nino doesn’t make decisions half-cocked the way she does. He thinks, and considers, and once his choice is made, he sticks to it. That surety—that stability—is one of the reasons she loves him. Even if right now it’s hurting her.

“I’m sure,” he says. “Just… I need a few days after. You know.” He hangs his head. “Seeing you die again.”

Oh, God, Alya wants to slap him. And maybe a year ago she would have. But today-Alya is not last-year-Alya, and, instead, she just drops her head a little. “It was a bad one, wasn’t it,” she says.

Alya trudges out of class, dragging her feet. It’s been a difficult day, to say the least, and Marinette—bless her—may be trying to help, but there’s not all that much to do.

“We could go to my place and stuff ourselves with Beignets,” Marinette offers, with her characteristic hyperenergetic movement. “I know you love the Majestia movie?”

Alya shakes her head. “I relax a bit better when I move,” she says. She looks at the basketball hoops. “Can you stick around for…” She catches a hint of green out of the corner of her eye—a familiar shade, one that she’s seen quite a lot. She blinks. “For a few…” She turns her head, and there—staring down at her from the roof of the school—is Carapace. “Uh.”

Marinette follows her gaze. “What are you—”

Carapace’s head jerks as he seems to realize that he’s been spotted, and he leaps down out of sight.

“What is he doing?” Alya murmurs.

Marinette’s iron fingers wrap around her bicep. “Alya,” she hisses, “that’s not Carapace.”

“What do you mean?” Alya says, turning her head, just in time to catch a glimpse of Nino—as Nino, not as Carapace—walking out of the locker room on the opposite side of the school from where Carapace disappeared. It’s too soon, too fast—there’s no way he could’ve come around the school that quickly.

“Excuse me,” she says, bolting towards her boyfriend. She grabs his arm and yanks him away from Adrien.

“Babe... what?” he says, looking at her like she just grew a second head.

“I just saw Carapace on the roof,” she hisses.

His eyes widen behind his glasses.

They didn’t really discuss it, at least not verbally, but they both pretty easily came to the decision that whoever this is, stealing their identities is not something this person gets to get away with. They don’t even talk it through before they’ve agreed to chase this imposter down.

“You’re sure he went this way?” Nino asks as they charge off down the street toward where Alya had last seen the false Carapace.

“Yes, I’m—!” Alya starts to snap, before she catches herself and—stopping her headlong charge by pressing a palm into a nearby wall—breathes in. “Sorry, sorry.” She glances at him. “Pretty sure, yeah.”

“God, I wish I had my shield,” Nino mutters. He grabs her hand and meets her eyes with his characteristic Nino Soft Look. “If this ends up being a bad one, please take cover?”

Alya grimaces. “The Akuma is using your face, Babe,” she says.

“Please.” His voice is calm and soft.

Alya thinks about how distraught he was this morning, how little she wants to do that to him again. “I’ll—I’ll try.”

Nino smiles. “That’s really all I can ask, isn’t it.”

Alya smiles, tugging him along. “You knew I was crazy when I asked you out,” she says, building carefully building back up to a run.

Nino snorts, vaulting over a street barrier. “That I did.”

It takes barely a minute before they reach the spot where the false Carapace must’ve gone, leaving them looking down wide avenues packed with people—none of whom are wearing a green hood.

“We lost him,” Nino says, puffing.

“I mean,” Alya gasps, “duh.” She leans onto her knees. “He’s got—powers, and we—we have, what—about eight—months of parkour training?”

A familiar whizz-crack comes from above, as a spotted red figure drops down in front of them. “Alya!” Ladybug says, glancing confusedly at Nino. “Did you see where Carapace went?”

“Nope,” Alya says. She leans in toward Ladybug, carefully eyeing the other people who are watching the exchange. “Definitely an Akuma, then?” she whispers, quietly enough that nobody else is alarmed.

“Maybe?” Ladybug whispers back. “Or a Sentimonster, or. Well. One other thing.”

Alya’s eyebrows narrow. “What other thing?”

Ladybug shakes her head. “Probably not important,” she says. She straightens and backs away, whipping her yo-yo in rapid circles. “Everyone stay calm and quietly evacuate the area,” she says in a clear, authoritative voice. “Calmly, please! Everything is under control.”

There’s a growing undercurrent of panic in the crowd at Ladybug’s words, but there’s a force behind her last sentence, a reassurance, that passes calm through the crowd like a ripple. Much to Alya’s surprise, there’s no stampede, no rush to flee. Everyone actually listens, beginning to carefully file away, emptying out the street.

“Any chance we could get our Miraculi?” Nino asks. “I don’t like this.”

Ladybug glances over her shoulder at him. “Not until Chat gets here,” she says. “I can’t just leave the Akuma without anyone containing it.”

A black blur drops out of the sky, rolling and springing to his feet next to Ladybug. “Good thing I’m here, then!” Chat says, leaning his elbow onto her shoulder.

Ladybug rolls her eyes. “Always so dramatic,” she says, turning to her partner. “Can you hold down the fort for a few while I grab backup?”

Chat eyes Alya and Nino. “So long as the Ladyblogger doesn’t get herself killed, yes.”

There’s still been no sighting of the fake Carapace by the time Ladybug returns carrying the bracelet and the necklace. Chat has been running across the rooftops, spying into alleyways, but hasn’t seen scale nor shell of him.

“Alya Césaire and Nino Lahiffe,” Ladybug intones, holding the two Miraculi aloft. “I’m trusting you with the Miraculous of the Fox and Turtle.” She purses her lip. “I’m going to ask you to switch, though. I don’t want us mixing up our Carapi.”

Alya grimaces, but Nino just nods. “Makes sense,” he says, taking the necklace and draping it around his neck. It sparks, and a tiny fox spirals out from it. “Trixx, Let’s Pounce!” Nino calls.

He flashes orange, sparks running across his whole body, and suddenly Nino is gone, replaced by an orange-clad superhero. He still has Carapace’s hood, peaked down over his forehead, with ears poking through holes in the top. Leggings are tucked into combat boots, black gloves cuffed over white-and-orange sleeves. He looks down at his arms, twisting his hands to look at both sides. “Hmm,” he says. “Pretty cool.”

“What should we call you?” Ladybug says.

Nino meets Alya’s eyes. “What about… Reynard?” he says.

“Reynard it is,” Ladybug says. She turns to Alya, handing her the jade bracelet. “You ready?”

“Always,” Alya says, sliding the bracelet onto her wrist. “Wayzz, Shell On!”

She feels her hair lift into a high ponytail as her glasses meld to her face into a domino mask. Unlike the Rena Rouge transformation, which slims her down, she feels herself bulking up. Armor plates slam into place around her chest, shoulders, and thighs. Everything feels heavier, but also stronger, more stable.

Reynard whistles. “Damn, babe,” he says. “Green looks good on you.”

Tortue Verte grins. “You expected anything else?” she ask. She absently lifts the shield. “Damn, this thing is heavy,” she says, looking at Reynard. “How do you even lift it?”

“Practice,” Reynard says, twirling the flute. “This is really light!”

“It’s basically bamboo,” Tortue replies, slinging the shield onto her back. “You ready?”

Reynard sheathes the flute on his own back. “Let’s take this guy down.”

Tortue Verte’s super jump is a lot like Rena Rouge’s—though, given the balance between her being slightly stronger with the Turtle and also being heavier, it’s a little weird to balance. She gets more distance but less height with each jump, and since her brain keeps expecting Rena’s jump arc, she keeps misjudging where she’s landing.

She lands hard on the side of her foot, twisting her ankle and stumbling shoulder-first into a chimney with a yelp. Her ankle is struck by stabbing pain, and she immediately collapses onto her side. She lies there on the roof, huffing, feeling desperate and foolish. This is not what she was hoping for.

She carefully drags herself up the chimney into a sitting position, carefully pulling the shield from her back and dialing Reynard.

“Hey babe,” he says, his orange-hooded face filling the screen. “You good?”

She shakes her head. “Landed bad,” she says. “I think I twisted my ankle.”

Reynard’s eyes widen behind his goggles. “Where are you?” he says. “I’ll be there in a—”

“Babe!” she interrupts. “Akuma. I’ll be fine up here.”

“Are you sure?”

She nods. “I’m sure,” she says. “Give that fake hell.” She hangs up, then collapses backward against the chimney with a gasp.

“Sorry I didn’t catch you,” a voice—a familiar one, but one she can’t quite place—says from behind her. “I think you’d have broken a few of my bones.”

She whips her head around to see a red-haired woman dressed in blue and white, bunny ears sprouting from her head, leaning on an umbrella as if it were a cane. Tortue tries to leap to her feet, shield up, but pain spikes through her ankle the second her foot meets shingle. “Augh!”

The woman immediately drops the umbrella, and her arms are around Tortue’s body. “Careful,” she says. “Don’t want to put too much weight on that.”

“Don’t touch me,” Tortue growls.

The woman laughs. “Relax, Foxy. I’m not an Akuma.”

Tortue blinks. Foxy? She’s wearing the Turtle, not the Fox, which means… “You—you know who I am.”

The woman smirks and throws up a peace sign. “The name’s Bunnyx,” she says. “Wielder of the Miraculous of Time, from ten years in the future.”

“Prove it,” Tortue says. “What’s Ladybug’s real name?”

Bunnyx snorts. “You’re not getting it that easily… Alya,” she says. “Also, Nino’s sort of downplaying how worried about you he is. You really should start being more careful before you give him a heart attack.”

Tortue stares at Bunnyx, then blinks. “...Okay, you’re for real,” she says. “What are you doing here? Are you warning us about something?”

Bunnyx shakes her head. “I brought Carapace and Rena back from my time for one reason,” she says. “Future Hawkmoth has discovered Ladybug’s identity, which has put her daughter in danger.”

“Daughter?” Tortue says.

Bunnyx continues as if she hasn’t heard. “Ladybug asked me to bring her back in time to protect her from Future Hawkmoth, but I needed backup just in case she followed us. You and your boyfriend were the obvious choice.”

“Where is she?” Tortue says, trying to work her way to her feet. She hisses as pain lances through her ankle again.

“Jeez, stay down, Tortue!” Bunnyx says, carefully easing her back into a sitting position. “You need to be careful. We need you for this one.”

“Don’t bother,” says a voice that sounds like Tortue’s own as an older, taller Rena Rouge lands in a crouch. “I had absolutely no self-preservation at that age.”

Carapace lands next to her, softer, gentler. “You nearly killed me like eight times,” he says, cradling a baby in his arms. He looks down at Tortue. “Hey, babe.”

Rena rolls her eyes, gently punching Carapace’s shoulder. “Don’t flirt with young me, you butt,” she says.

Tortue stares at the baby, wide-eyed. “Is that…” she murmurs.

Rena nods. “Our god-daughter,” she says.

Carapace smiles. “Do you want to hold her?”

“She’s… mine?” Ladybug says, gazing down into her daughter’s emerald-green eyes.

The baby laughs, reaching up toward her mother’s face and pressing her chubby palm into Ladybug’s cheek.

“Who’s the father?” Chat says to Bunnyx, hope shining in his eyes. (Tortue admits to herself that she’s just as interested in finding out.)

Bunnyx smirks. “Oh, Kitty Noir, you know I can’t tell you.”

Chat looks crestfallen. “Not even a hint?”

“She’s so small,” Ladybug whispers, pointing a finger at her daughter’s face. The baby laughs again, gripping her mother’s finger in between her hands.

“You said she’s my—our god-daughter?” Tortue says.

Rena laughs. “My boyfriend has spent more time pampering this little terror than he has me lately,” she says. She turns and pokes Reynard in the chest. “You’ve got some growing to do, babe.”

Carapace rolls his eyes. “Please don’t flirt with the babies, babe,” he says with a smirk.

The laughter that follows seems to come from everywhere and nowhere, and Tortue looks around, unsettled.

“...Wasn’t that funny,” Carapace mutters.

Bunnyx walks toward the edge of the roof, looking down. “Missing the point again, Shelly?” she says, pointing down. “It’s starting.”

“What is?” Chat says.

“ATTENTION PARIS!” a booming, feminine voice echoes deeply through the sky as if it’s rebounding off the very atmosphere, followed by a sudden eruption of Wagnerian opera. “YOU HAVE BEEN SELECTED TO JOIN THE RANKS OF ODIN’S MIGHTY WARRIORS IN VALHALLA!”

“Ah,” Chat says, nodding. “Akuma time.”

“Bad one,” Bunnyx agrees, nodding. “We picked today for a reason. Two illusionists needed at minimum.”

Tortue gingerly attempts to stand, only for the pain in her ankle to spike like a jagged piece of bone. “Ah!” she yelps, collapsing backward.

Immediately, two sets of hands are holding her up—Reynard’s and Carapace’s. “You okay?” Reynard says, his eyes soft and concerned.

Carapace swallows. “I’m sorry, babe, but I—” He glances at Rena. “We are going to need you to stay out of this fight. You’re injured.”

“I can help!” Tortue protests.

Carapace shakes his head. “I know how much it means to you to be out there with us, but A—um, sweetie, I need you alive, okay?” He smiles, glancing back at Ladybug. “Besides, um. Someone needs to keep the baby safe.”

Reynard raises an eyebrow. “You are a braver man than I,” he says.

Rena laughs. “Oh, it’s just ‘cause she’s a baby,” she says. “He knows I’d rip his throat out if he tried that.”

“You are also much less suicidally reckless than she is,” Carapace shoots back.

Rena shrugs. “Fair point.”

Ladybug approaches, carefully laying the baby into Tortue’s arms with a look of regret. “Stay safe, okay?” she says. She looks down and presses a kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “And keep her safe.”

Tortue swallows, overwhelmed by the—the everything. The trust Ladybug is showing her, the softness of the moment, the sadness in the child’s eyes as her mother goes back off to battle… it’s too much.

“I’ll do my best,” she croaks, trying not to tear up.

Carapace had carried her away from the battle. Vilekyrie controlled the sky, making it difficult to keep the baby out of her reach, but he’d found her a little out-of-the-way cubbyhole that nobody would come looking in during the attack. Or, well. Not a cubbyhole, really. More of a luxury suite at the Hotel Gran Paris.

“How did you know nobody would be here?” Tortue had asked him.

He’d only smiled in reply. “Spoilers,” he’d said. “Love you forever, but I gotta get back there.”

“Good luck!”

Now, about forty minutes into the battle, she can hear the clash of swords, the clanking of armor, the screaming of horses as they flew past her shaded window. She’d looked outside earlier, caught a glimpse of the copies of Vilekyrie flashing across the sky—copies of her that kept growing by the moment—and the marching of ghostly Viking soldiers on the ground: the Einherjar she’d selected from Paris’ citizens, transformed into undying warrior spirits. It doesn’t seem to be going well, but then, she doesn’t really have the best vantage point.

The baby is fussy, fussier than she was when Ladybug was around—Tortue can only guess that it’s because she wants her mother. The room has been stocked with formula and fresh diapers, and, thanks to her experience with the twins, Tortue has plenty of experience with taking care of a baby, but the girl just won’t settle down.

There’s a quiet footfall on the balcony—not a Vilekyrie, and the Einherjar can’t seem to climb. Tortue turns around to see the balcony door creek open, followed by a pair of large orange ears. “Hey. Mini-me,” Rena says. “You hanging in there?”

Tortue smiles, rocking the baby gently in her arms. “You didn’t tell me her name,” she says. “Feel weird just calling her ‘baby’.”

Rena ducks around the door, shutting it behind her, then bends down, cooing over the child’s delighted face. “HellooOOOooo!” She tickles the baby’s nose with her finger, and the girl laughs.

Rena looks back up at Tortue with a sheepish smile. “Sorry,” she says. “No names. Spoilers.”

Tortue rolls her eyes. “Am I always this aggravating?”

Rena gently wraps her arms underneath the baby’s back, lifting her from Tortue’s arms. “Pretty much!” She turns back to the baby and blows a raspberry.

“What’s up?” Tortue says. “Why aren’t you with the others?” As if to punctuate her point, an explosion sounds in the distance, and Tortue raises an eyebrow.

“Needed to talk to you,” Rena says, sitting down on the plush velvet bedspread across from her. “Also, I told them you were planning on running into the combat zone, so…”

“I was not!” Tortue yelps, leaping from her desk chair. The baby immediately squeals in distress.

Rena grins. “I know,” she says, gently tickling the child’s nose. “But they believed me when I said it, and by the time they figure it out…”

Tortue sighs. Gods, her older self is annoying. “What do you want, Alya?”

The animation in Rena’s face slackens, and she looks down at her own stomach. “I… want to show you something.” Keeping one hand under the baby, she reaches behind her and unslings the flute, opening the space within. “Take a look.”

Tortue reaches inside the extradimensional storage space inside Rena’s weapon, confused—and then her fingers close around something small, round, and metal, and she understands. “You’re going to propose,” she says, fishing the ring out of the flute. She stares at it, entranced.

“Yep,” Rena agrees with a nod, gently bouncing the baby. “Bought the ring last week.”

Tortue doesn’t even know what to say in this situation. Is it… weird to congratulate herself? Some situations, there aren’t just good responses for.

Rena sees her face and laughs. “Don’t look so shocked, Mini-me,” she says. She carefully rocks Ladybug’s baby, staring into her green eyes. “I mean, you always knew we were gonna do this eventually.”

“Yeah, but… kinda young?” Tortue says, handing the ring back to Rena.

“Ladybug’s younger.” Rena absently places the ring back inside her flute, still bouncing the baby in her other arm. “About a year younger than you, actually.”

Tortue blinks. She’s—well, she figured out a while back that Ladybug wasn’t actually 5,000 years old, but she’d always assumed she was, maybe, Anansi’s age? The thought that Ladybug is younger than she is... “Yikes.”

“Yikes is right,” Rena says. “And she has anxiety. So every time you go running face-first into danger like you’re never gonna die…”

“Is this a lecture?” Tortue says.

“Little bit,” Rena responds.

Oh, great. The last thing she needs right now is a lecture from herself of all people.

Rena rolls her eyes. “Listen, Kit, sometimes—sometimes Ladybug isn’t gonna be there. She doesn’t always show up, you know.”

Tortue narrows her eyebrows. “Yes she does?” That’s, like, the big consistency. Aside from that one time where the Akuma and the Sentimonster were in different cities, Ladybug has shown up for every single Akuma battle.

Rena shakes her head. “She has a life, Alya. And, well, sometimes she needs Chat to cover for her.” She looks toward the curtained window, toward the sounds of the battle still filtering in from outside. “And sometimes, Chat and Viperion get taken out early, and the only person who can use the Ladybug is you.”

A chill runs down Tortue’s entire body. The responsibility of using the Ladybug Miraculous—it’s terrifying. It hadn’t even occurred to her that it might pass down to her, that—oh, no. This is… this is what Ladybug feels all the time, isn’t it?

“Listen, however you feel about Nino now?” Rena says. “It’s nothing compared to what it’s going to be. He and I, we’d do anything for each other.” She breathes in, stroking the baby’s head. “Which means that, well, you and I need to stay alive.”

“The Miraculous Cure—”

Rena shakes her head. “It’s good, but it’s not… 100% reliable. Sometimes, Ladybug can’t be there.”

Tortue’s mouth opens, closes. Opens again. “Oh.”

Rena stands and places a hand on her younger self’s shoulder. “Alya, someday, you’re gonna get hurt. You’re gonna get hurt in a way that Ladybug can’t fix, and you’re going to wonder if you even deserve this Miraculous. If you even deserve Nino.” She looks down at the baby with naked fondness in her eyes. “I’m telling you now—you deserve way more than you realize. But if you want to make it to see our wedding...” She trails off.

Tortue waits for her to finish, but Rena doesn’t say anything else. The implications in Rena’s words are disconcerting, and Tortue asks the question that’s burning inside her chest. “Am I going to die?”

“Of course you are,” Rena replies. “You’re going to die a lot. But some of them are going to be harder to come back from, and Alya.” Rena’s eyes bore into hers. “You need to come back. Okay?”

“Okay,” Tortue whispers.

“Miraculous LADYBUG!” Ladybug calls from outside, and pink insects swarm across the room. There’s a brief moment of pain as Tortue’s ankle snaps back into place, immediately replaced by cool relief as the pressure vanishes.

Rena puts a finger to her lips. “Don’t tell Reynard, okay?” she says. “About the ring.”

Tortue mimes zipping her lip.

Rena nods. “Thanks,” she says. “Oh, and one more thing—you’re also gonna need to be more careful if you want to get into a good journalism school. Nobody wants to be the professor that killed the Ladyblogger.”

Tortue blinks. She… hadn’t even thought of that. “That makes sense, I think?” she says.

The balcony door creaks open and Carapace peeks through. “Hey, guys,” he says. “How’s everything going in here?”

“Really great!” Tortue says. She eyes her older self. Rena is fidgeting, looking away from her boyfriend’s face, and Tortue realizes—if she doesn’t make the push, Rena isn’t going to do it. “I think Rena has something to tell you.”

Rena glares at Tortue. “Betrayal!” she hisses.

Tortue laughs. “You’ll thank me later.”

Carapace glanced between them, confusion written across his face. “Um, what’s going on?”

Rena takes a deep breath, then carefully hands the baby to Tortue. “Hold her for a moment?”

“Of course.”

Rena looks at her boyfriend, then drops to one knee, fishing the ring out of her flute. “Nino Lahiffe. Will—will you, um…”

Carapace gasps and covers his mouth with both hands, his eyes shining wetly. “Alya?” he whispers.

Both of them sit in shocked silence, staring at each other, frozen, and after a moment, Tortue gets fed up. “Babe,” she says. “Say yes.”

Carapace glances at her, then back and his girlfriend... then lifts his fiancée bodily into the air in a crushing, spinning hug.

“Yes, yes, yes!” he crows in delight.

The portal closes, leaving just the four of them behind.

Ladybug huffs in relief. “You know, I love Bunnyx, but… every time I see her, it’s a brand new disaster.”

Chat looks at her in confusion. “Every? Isn’t this only the second time?”

Reynard sidles up to Tortue Verte. “So, how was meeting your future self?” he says, as Ladybug and Chat quietly discuss something else off to the side. “Mine was a lot more confident than I expected.”

Tortue snorts. “Kind of a butt,” she says. “But then again, that’s not much of a surprise, is it.”

Reynard coughs. “I invoke my right to not incriminate myself,” he says.

Tortue smacks his shoulder. “You’re such a dork.”

Reynard smiles. “Your dork.” He looks at where the portal vanished. “For quite a while, apparently.” He turns back to Tortue. “She tell you anything interesting?”

Tortue smiles, thinking about the proposal, about how happy she and her Nino were. About all the advice her future self gave. She has a lot of work to do.

“Sorry, babe,” she says. “Spoilers.”

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #djwifi #original content #my fic #Alya cesaire #Nino lahiffe #ninalya #Rena rouge #carapace #turtle!alya #fox!nino #bunnyx #bunnix #mlsecretsanta 2020 #mlsecretsanta2k20 #emma agreste

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canary3d-obsessed · 3 years

Text

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 15

(Masterpost)(Other Canary Content)

Warning: Spoilers for all 50 episodes!

This rewatch is going to fit into a single post, because a third of the episode is just crying and yelling on a very slow boat. If you want to learn the Chinese words for “Mother” and “Father” this is your episode.

Captain Blowhard

Clan Leader Yao shows up, having barely survived the massacre of his clan, along with two disciples who aren't too excited about their unwilling promotion to top targets. Jiang Cheng tells his dad that the Wens are systematically exterminating the smaller clans, and have said anyone who helps the survivors is going to be punished.

Jiang Fengmian tells Yao that the Jiang Clan will protect him. Which is why Wei Wuxian is responsible for the massacre of the Jiang Clan.

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian both think that taking Yao to the Jin clan is the best way to keep him safe. Wei Wuxian was wrong to help the heirs of the powerfullest richest clans, but sure, let's save this asshole.

Road Tripping

The boys go down to the dock to send Jiang Yanli and Jiang Fengmian off, saying a formal goodbye with a bunch of disciples and showing off how extremely good they look in these close-fitted, simply cut robes with cool belts.

Yu Ziyuan comes down to say goodbye to Yanli and give her some medicine, covering by saying it's for Jiang Fengmian, because being sick is bad for marriage prospects, probably.

Later the boys will mention their hope that YZY will be mollified by the time JFM returns, which means this possibly isn't the usual state of their relationship. The dislike and jealousy seem to be constant, but perhaps being openly at war with each other is not.

(more after the cut!)

Club Ruohan

At Club Ruohan, Wen Ruohan is tired of sitting on his big uncomfortable throne so he's sitting on the floor next to it, instead. He's suffering the embarrassing problem of black smoke leakage, and needs Wen Qing to give him acupuncture to fix it, but she's not around. Wen Ruohan has an awful lot of trouble containing resentful energy, possibly because he is controlling a bunch of zombies 24x7 instead of letting them take a break. Wei Wuxian is mostly able to control it--except when he, you know, totally isn't--without ever needing an attractive acupuncturist to give him a poke.

WRH learns from Wen Chao that Wei Wuxian 1. killed a boss-level monster on nightmare level difficulty without his sword 2. took whatever thing had been suppressing the nightmare monster for the previous really long time. WRH wants whatever it is.

Boys in Charge

When the boys get back to Lotus Pier, Jiang Cheng doesn't understand why they couldn't all go to the Lins together, and Wei Wuxian explains it to him. Wei Wuxian is the one seeing the big picture, and he wants to plan how to handle the Wen forces when they, inevitably, arrive.

Jiang Cheng would rather talk big than actually plan, showing how--at this age--his anger management problem is an issue on a strategic level, not just a personal one. As a clan leader he will eventually master this aspect, for the most part, and learn to keep a cool head in regard to martial matters, while continuing to feed his interpersonal rage problem.

The brothers supervise the archery practice of the Jiang disciples, having their last nice time together, and still without a plan. Wei Wuxian is bored and calls practice early so he can go be bored on the porch or in his room, since he isn't allowed out. In fact he's so bored by lockdown that he starts an irreverent niche blog.

(he’s kidding! keep your mask on, don’t go to wine houses)

Knowing that the Wen Clan is gunning for enemy cultivators, Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng send the whole group of disciples, including children, outside the compound walls to retrieve their kites. This is what happens when you don't have a plan.

Wen the Levee Breaks

Wen Chao’s girlfriend Wang Lingjiao finds a kite with a hole in it and uses it as a pretext to snatch up the youngest disciple.

The other disciples come running back and tell WWX and JC what happened. Wei Wuxian calmly gets all of the information from them and starts figuring out what to do, while Jiang Cheng freaks out.

Jiang Cheng is a good fighter, and matures into an excellent one after a core upgrade and war experience. But Wei Wuxian is a born battle leader, developing strategies on the fly and staying cool under pressure.

Madame Yu is as brave as a barrel full of bears and Yinzhu and Jinzhu chase lions down the stairs

Yu Ziyuan and the murder twins show up and all of the disciples line up behind them, relieved to have someone scary in charge.. Yu Ziyuan is also a natural leader and an awesome fighter, but her judgement is terrible, as we're about to discover.

Bitchfest

Wang Lingjiao strolls in to the main hall and has the nerve to comment on the interior decorating, because it doesn't have enough rough-hewn black rock and lava pits, apparently.

She shows them all the kite and says that because it looks (kind of) like the sun, using it for target practice is an attack on the Wen Clan. Bitch, everything your clan wears and uses has fire on it and is red. The sun is not your emblem, no matter what the text says. This kite situation is presumably where the anti-Wen campaign gets its name of "Sunshot," however, which sounds pretty cool.

Wang Lingjiao moves along to her main point, which is that Wei Wuxian needs his ass kicked, and she'd like Yu Ziyuan to do the kicking. To goad her, she starts talking about the rumors about Wei Wuxian's parentage.

Let it Whip

So let it whip (let's whip it, baby) Get a grip (let's whip it baby) Well, what's your trip? (Oh no)

Yu Ziyuan takes the bait, and proceeds to whip the shit out of her strongest battle asset, in a sequence that's either horrifying or completely fucking awesome, depending on how you feel about whump.

There are a lot of bad effects in this show and a lot of questionable fighting, but any time Zidian flies, I am HERE for it. I gave this beatdown its own gifset over here.

Jiang Cheng is devastated and tries again and again to protect Wei Wuxian, but his mother and her lieutenants keep moving him out of the way so the beating can continue.

Yu Ziyuan hits Wei Wuxian at least 5 times, until he is totally unable to get up off the floor. Wang Lingjiao has succeeded in eliminating him as a threat for the moment.

Gotta Hand It To You

Wang Lingjiao isn't satisfied with the brutal whipping, however; she wants his right hand as a trophy, and for him to be unable to recover. Yu Ziyuan tells Jinzhu and Yinzhu to close the doors because some blood is going to fly.

I'd like to think this is when Yu Ziyuan decides to kill the Wens, rather than maiming WWX, but I'm not certain. Because she doesn't start attacking until after Wang Lingjiao says the Wens are taking Lotus Pier, and tells her to discipline Jiang Cheng. So maybe she is okay with taking WWX’s hand, but draws the line at giving up her house.

Through all of this, Wei Wuxian doesn't once protest, even when he thinks they're getting ready to take his hand off. He'll do whatever it takes to make peace. THIS is the core of his heroism; he will sacrifice anything to do what he thinks is right. He's not "playing the hero;" not doing this for fame or kudos, but for a clear conscience.

It’s a Murder Party

Wang Lingjiao explains the new Wen World order, and Yu Ziyuan smacks her to the floor and then takes out all 8 of the Wen soldiers in one elegant move.

Can we talk about how incredibly effective a fighter Yu Ziyuan is, without a sword? With her first-class spiritual tool as her only weapon? Nobody is telling her she needs to carry a sword. She shows she can use one, after she gives Zidian to Jiang Cheng, but she's absolutely devastating without one.

Having defied Wang Lingjiao, Yu Ziyuan...doesn't kill her. She chokes her, slaps her and yells at her. Then she insults her clan and sticks her FOOT on her FACE.

She sics the murder twins on the guards in the room, and they shank all of them at super speed while the boys watch with alarm.

Then she has them sloooowly advance on Wang Lingjiao, giving her plenty of time to holler for Wen Zhuliu before they can kill her.

Het Heat

Wen Zhuliu comes flying in, literally, kicking both murder twins across the room at the same time. This is followed by Core-Melting Hand x Violet Spider suddenly becoming the most shippable M/F couple in this thing, because wow, they have some serious chemistry.

I never saw a pretty girl look so tough

Actor Feng Mingjing continues to do an awful lot with almost no lines, in his portrayal of Wen Zhuliu. WZL politely apologizes to Yu Ziyuan. Is he offering to withdraw, or is he just being polite before getting down to the killy bit? Either way, Yu Ziyuan is ready to rumble, and doesn't even consider de-escalating.

You know who was able to rein in his temper, after fighting with this same extremely dangerous dude, and therefore lived to fight another day? Fucking Nie Mingjue, that's who, who has a generational CURSE making him angry. While Yu Ziyuan, is like, "fuck the safety of my clan, this is Wei Wuxian's fault anyway" and throws down.

Wen Zhuliu and Yu Ziyuan proceed to have an epic, sexy fight, where he catches her whip and she dodges his attempt to feel up her core.

He's a magic man, mama, he's got the magic hands.

Wei Wuxian, still incapacitated, tells Jiang Cheng to stop Wang Lingjiao from calling for help, but JC gets distracted by the threat to his mom, and goes to engage with Wen Zhuliu.

Jiang Cheng takes a horrifying smack in the chest, which injures him and takes him out, while Wang Lingjiao sends the signal that seals the fate of Lotus Pier.

It’s All Over Except for the Crying

Yu Ziyuan immediately sees that she's lost the battle, and has the murder twins divert Wen Zhuliu while she brings the two boys to the pier.

She verifies that Jiang Cheng's core is still intact, showing the viewers, for future reference, that it's possible to tell by touch if someone's core is missing, although a casual touch won't do it.

Then she re-codes the Zidian so that it recognizes Jiang Cheng and puts it on his wrist. She follows this with a display of maternal affection for Jiang Cheng unlike anything we've seen so far, which super fails to reassure him.

She follows this up with screaming at Wei Wuxian and telling him how much she hates him, and blaming him for the multiple shitty choices she just made..

With a heart full of rage, she reminds him that his worth lies in what he can do for more important people.

She binds the boys with Zidian and then sends the boat on its way....

...with a frickin' TALISMAN, holeee shit. As toxic as she is for Wei Wuxian, there is a direct line from her cultivation skills to his.

Dad To The Rescue...sort of

The last third of the episode is basically yelling and crying punctuated by a couple of interactions out on the water. The extreme emotions go on for long enough that I eventually stop feeling bad for the characters and start feeling bad for the actors, who had to maintain this level of feeling for probably days of shooting.

The boys eventually meet up with Jiang Fengmian and Jiang Yanli. JFM discovers that Zidian responds to his control, which tells him something is very, very wrong, since it probably knows how his wife feels about him.

This thing isn’t biting me; your mom is in serious trouble.

Here Jiang Fengmian decides to do the heroic, totally futile thing, which is exactly his style. He tosses Jiang Yanli in with the boys and takes his leave so he can go die with his wife while the children survive.

He has to know that Yu Ziyuan is the stronger fighter of the two of them, and that he's not going back to rescue her. He's just going to stand with her and die together, which is the most romantic thing you can do in a C-drama, after all.

How Much Do You Owe the Jiang Clan?

Jiang Fengmian tells his two children not to cry, making them and the viewer cry extra hard. (specially ouchy gifset here).

Then he turns to Wei Wuxian and, with a heart full of tenderness, reminds him that his worth lies in what he can do for more important people.

Next episode: Is going to be even more horrible!

Soundtrack: 1. When The Levee Breaks, Led Zeppelin 2. The Tale of Custard the Dragon (poem) by Ogden Nash 3. Let it Whip by the Dazz Band 4. U Got the Look by Prince & Sheena Easton 5. Magic Man by Heart

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #the untamed gifs #the untamed meta #yi ziyuan #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #my gifs #the untamed spoilers #tw: crying #omg this episode

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pl-panda · 3 years

Text

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 11

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 11

----------

The Akuma turned toward the three superheroes and scowled. A phantom butterfly appeared over her face.

“So you’ve come to ruin my great day!?” She screamed. Her hand turned into bubbling energy and extended unnaturally, sailing at the heroes who had to scatter to avoid it. It smashed into the wall, burning it slightly.

“This is Vicki Vale, reporting live from Wayne Manor, where the Charity Gala was interrupted by the attack of a supervillain. We can now see not one, but three new superheroes appearing on-site to stop them. The feline theme seems to be prevalent in this group, but it is the hero in red that took charge of the situation. Aaaah!” The large other arm sailed toward the reporter and her cameraman, enveloping them and burning them. Some of the bubbly mass remained there, slowly reforming into… something.

“This Akuma is overpowered! Shapeshifting, reach, super-healing, and minions?” Ladybug whined.

“Focus. We need the object.” Black Cat cut her off.

“She had nothing on her. Only the… Of course, that stupid alley-cat would do this.” She moaned. “It’s her dress. That bastard made her dress into the akumatized object.”

“Then we cut it to pieces.” Pink Tigress scowled. Her chakram sailed through the air at the Akuma, but it was easily avoided.

“You’re all just fake…” She didn’t get to finish before the sharp projectile bounced and returned at her, smashing into her back. Black Cat and Ladybug used the distraction.

“Lucky Charm!/Cataclysm!”

The destructive energy formed in his paw just as Ladybug got a fire extinguisher.

“Won’t be needed, beloved.” Black cat spoke too soon because purple energy surrounded the Akuma and the heat became harder to withstand. The wooden planks caught on fire.

“Is it just me or is she getting hotter with time?”

“Ladybug! Don’t flirt with the villain.” Tigress snapped, but the way she was smiling told the young couple she was just joking.

“Tt. Let’s just get moving.” He scoffed. Just then, the shapeless mass that was the reporter and the cameraman finally became active. The two blobs looked exactly like they used to before, except for violet eyes. They charged forward, forcing the heroes to scatter. As soon as they crashed with the wall, it started to slowly heat until it burned too.

Ladybug started looking around. She needed to get access to the Akuma, but when they were distracted, it created more minions that now stood between her and them. The clock pointed at almost half an hour to midnight.

The plan formed in Ladybug’s head.

“Cat! I need your tail. Tigress! The strength would be nice.” She ran to grab the items needed. A tail was wrapped around the fire-extinguisher and the hand of the clock was put inside the pin and tied to the sash.

“Power Up! Strength!” Pink Tigress shone with pink light. Getting at what her daughter planned, she grabbed Black Cat who rolled in a ball.

“Tt. For the record, I hate these types of plans.”

“Less complaining, more… Now!” Ladybug shouted suddenly before making the fire extinguisher roll like a bowling ball right under the group of minions and toward the Akuma. The heat was visibly weakening the metal around it. When it was close to the enemy, she pulled back the sash with one swift move and plucked the safety pin. Then, she quickly tossed her yo-yo.

The weapon struck the already weakened metal container and everything nearby was covered by red foam, putting away the flames and momentarily stopping the heat.

Seeing her cue, Pink Tigress tossed Black Cat through the air. The strength gave her enough power for the throw to pass over all of the minions with enough velocity that he surprised the Akuma. His open palm clashed into the orange dress of the Akuma and it crumbled to pieces. Quickly, Ladybug grabbed the now-extinguished curtain and tossed it over the victim.

There was no catchphrase when she activated her yo-yo and captured the purple butterfly, or when she released it.

“Miraculous Ladybug!”

The swarm of magical bugs swept over the place, fixing the damage and returning everything to where it was supposed to be. At least most of it.

“Ladybug?” A voice came from under the curtain, which thankfully remained in place. The face that appeared from underneath was that of one Lila Rossi. “Oh no! It was… I was… Oh no!” She started crying crocodile tears.

Ladybug was clearly unamused. Because of course, The Liar would be the first from the new batch of Akumas. Unceremoniously, she tossed her the dress and walked away.

Outside, the press already gathered together with a group of police officers trying to stop anyone from rushing inside.

“Miss.” A man in a brown trenchcoat and with a bushy mustache came over to the three heroes. “Commissioner Gordon, GCPD. I must ask you three to come with us.”

“Tt. No.” Black Cat protested before either of the females with him got a chance.

Ladybug put a hand on his shoulder and made him step back. “Commissioner, could you send a team of paramedics inside. There is a girl that is probably in shock still inside. She was a victim of possession by Akuma.”

Gordon didn’t respond verbally but waved his hand and a man and a woman went inside the mansion. “Now, can we move somewhere more private?”

Just then, Batman glided down from the rooftop. “Nightwing and Red Hood stopped any car movement in and out. Red Robin is already tracing the feeds. The civilians are secure. Ladybug,” He turned to the spotted heroine with no small amount of respect, “is the situation inside resolved?”

“I purified the Akuma if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Batman? You know those three?” The police commissioner asked.

“Yes. Ladybug is a superhero from France. She received my authorization to enter Gotham in pursuit of dangerous international terrorist Adrien Agreste, the son of another terrorist, Gabriel Agreste.” Batman explained.

“And to think I used to wear his cologne…” Gordon muttered. “I would really appreciate the heads-up though.”

“We would definitely send such if we had time.”

“We were in Tibet when the Akuma Alert came.” Black Cat lied swiftly.

“Um… I’ve never been a master of geography but…”

“Magic. We use magic, Mr. Gordon.” Pink Tigress decided to take charge of the conversation with her assassin attitude in full force. From Bruce’s tales, James Gordon was a good man but sometimes too cynical. “The terrorist we chase also uses magic. We’re ready to co-operate with the police force as long as you turn out more cooperative than Parisians. We will need city-wide surveillance enhanced with the Akuma-detecting algorithm. You will get the program by tomorrow. Akuma Shelters would help minimize the strain during the attacks. And Arkham Asylum is to be on total lockdown. If possible, send the saner part to Black-gate. The rest is to be kept under wraps or in medically-induced comas. If even one of those madmen is corrupted…” She was narrowing her eyes to the point she almost closed them. Her fists were making a crunching sound as bones withstood great pressure. Pink Tigress was out for blood.

“Agreste preys on emotions. Today’s attack was purely made out of spite and we suspect he didn’t even plan it. The girl he obsesses over announced her relationship to the public.” Ladybug stopped her mother before she said something she would regret. “We need to find him before he entrenches and it turns into a siege. We know who he is this time, but not who he works with…”

“Known weaknesses? Ways to prevent possessions?” Gordon asked, scratching the back of his head.

“We will send everything tomorrow. We need to go before the magic exhausts us.” Ladybug saluted before she and Black Cat leaped onto the top of the manor and disappeared in the forest behind it.

Pink Tigress smiled behind her mask and disappeared inside the Manor. Nobody saw her after that.

---------

The couple arrived at the garden gazebo Damian showed her the first day and dropped the transformation. It was cold, but a small herbal fire burned inside and warmed them. Damian took off his jacket and put it over Marinette’s shoulders. She cuddled closer to him still, shaking not only from the temperature.

Silently, she cried for a good ten minutes before her eyes ran dry.

“It will be okay, Habibti. This time, you’re not alone. And when we find him… He won’t walk out of there.” He muttered the last part low enough that shaken Marinetet didn’t hear him. She just wanted the comfort of his body heat and the embrace. She could hear his heartbeat and it served to calm her down.

“I wanted this to be over. We were supposed to have peace… I can survive the occasional supervillain attack. But not… not him,” she sniffled. “Why…”

“Don’t worry angel. He won’t hurt you. Not today and not ever. By my sword I swear it to you.”

“Damian… Thank you. You… We are in this together.” She smiled weakly. He pulled her closer. Simultaneously, their phones vibrated.

Damian felt something shift and saw two steaming hot cups of hot chocolate in Ladybug-themed cups. From behind the fire, Tikki and Plag winked at the couple and hid again.

“Happy new year Angel.” He gave her a cup and kissed her forehead.

“Happy new year, grumpy cat.” She joked, hoping to light the atmosphere. Before Damian could protest she pulled him by his shirt into a searing kiss.

Any protest he would have had over that nickname died before it could properly formulate. His mind shut down for a moment and he embraced his wife. They stayed like that for a long time. Just the two of them, the fire, and the steaming hot chocolate.

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

Masterlist // Next

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baeklooming-day · 4 years

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Glossy Fruits | Baekhyun

Summary: Where your best friend doesn't want anyone else to be your first kiss but him.

Genre: fluffish fluff, cheeky Baek is back folks

Word count: 1.8k

A/N: i wanted to write something simple and lighthearted to make yall day a little fluffier since i have a feeling we all need that right now

"You are out of your mind."

You said, watching the black velvet locks falling on your best friend's eyes.

"Why? This is a good deal."

Well, it wasn't really a good one.

Your best friend was known around the school for making bets with everyone about everything, luckily for him he was usually winning all of them.

But you just couldn't stop thinking about a day coming when he would lose and, what would follow, getting himself into inevitable trouble.

"Baekhyun, it would be an alright deal if it was just another student. But breaking into our principal's office and leaving your bluetooth box behind a plant to pretend a ghost through your phone later doesn't appear very good to me." You said, looking at your reflection on your black phone screen to wipe away a little smudge which came from your red lipstick.

"Y/N, this kid said he would do my whole literature assignment for me if I pulled this off." Baekhyun let out a deep breath, making his dark bangs fly up and gently fall on his eyes again. "And before you say anything, it would be a win and win situation because I also made a bet with Sehun that-"

"I thought that I clearly told you not to bet with my stupid brother anymore you jackass!"

"But Y/N" Baekhyun whined, tugging on your right arm. "I made a bet with Sehun that I will win two bets today, and if I fail I will have to wash his socks for a month."

You held back a laugh. "Well then good luck with that, because I doubt that you will get out of it without trauma after dealing with Sehun's used smelly socks."

Baekhyun gave you a mortified look. "I don't want to die of lack of fresh air to breathe." He continued whining. "I already won one today, and nobody beside that kid from class one is willing to bet."

"Then provide yourself a mask for a date with my older brother's socks."

"Y/N, this is for real" Baekhyun now was leaning his cheek on your head. "I need to find a beneficial bet, like, right in this moment."

"Beneficial my foot."

"Foot? Wait." He said, straightening himself. "Foot..."

You looked at him questioningly before speaking again. "Baekhyun, I'm not glueing anyone's shoes to the floor with you, if that's what you just thought of."

"No, no, actually I thought of something more classic." He said, tapping on his lower lip with his finger. "What about the good old if I run there and there in, I don't know, for example four minutes I will win this and this"

"And who do you want to ask?" You asked.

"Well" Baekhyun smiled. "What about my dear best friend?" He gently pulled you closer to him circling your waist with his left arm, waiting for your reply.

"No way, I know you too well, you will ask for some stupid sick stuff which will make a clown out of me in the end." You said, jokingly pushing his arm away.

"I promise I won't ask for sick stuff, I would rather ask for something..." He paused, taking the opportunity to gently pull you closer again. "Something sweet in return."

"And that sweet thing would be what, precisely?" You asked.

Baekhyun let go of your waist, stretching out his arm and pointing ahead of you. "Let's say, if I manage to Naruto run through the entire hallway until the end and back to you in one minute, you will let me kiss you. On your lips." He told you, his smile becoming always wider as he presented you his wonderful idea of which, he seemed to be a little too proud of.

You only widened your eyes, looking at him with disbelief.

Your crazy best friend wanted to do what?

Out of all possible things you could take for a stupid bet, he decided to go a little, and by little you meant a lot, overboard with his idea.

For some girls maybe it wouldn't be a particularly big deal, but knowing that you out of all people still haven't given your first kiss, it didn't appear as the most optimal thing to you in that moment.

"What the freak Baek" You said. "I'm not doing this, this would be my first ever kiss!"

"I know." He replied.

And there you were, thinking that his impertinent smile couldn't become any bigger.

Well, you thought wrong.

"Yeah, that's why you can't do that." You continued. "And even if I agreed to this clownery bet, you would need at least three minutes to run to the end of the hallway and back to where we are now, so this is impossible."

"If you think that this is impossible for me to do, then what do you care? Just agree." He said.

To be completely honest, even if you thought that Baekhyun would lose that one anyway, for some reason you still weren't wholly convinced.

"And for starters, why out of all things Naruto running?" You asked, letting out a soft laugh. "And what will I get if you lose?"

Baekhyun lightly tapped his lower lip again, thinking. "Well, if I lose I will buy you inari sushi for the whole week." He said. "And Naruto run will be funnier than running normally, so"

"Yeah, funnier to watch you fail." You said.

"So do we have a deal?"

"Deal. Better prepare your wallet for my inari already." You said, pulling out your phone. There was no way you weren't going to film this spectacle.

"I'll run on three." He said, throwing his arms back. "One... Two... Three!" He bolted forward at a high speed, accelerating as much as only possible as if there was no tomorrow.

The school hallway was completely empty in that moment, given that most of the students already finished their lessons and left whilst those who had evening lessons were on a break somewhere else.

You watched as Baekhyun became always smaller and smaller in the distance, given that the hallway was indeed amazingly long. You started to wonder if he decided to make running through it a bet only because, like already mentioned, it was completely empty besides the two of you and he knew that he had way better chances of winning.

You tried to push this thought aside as you glanced at your phone, checking the time.

Thirty seconds left.

To your surprise and disbelief, he was already reaching the end of the hallway only to quickly turn around and start running back to you.

Twenty seconds left.

You watched still in a complete disbelief how Baekhyun was dashing forward, almost reaching you.

Ten seconds left.

It was a literal race between him and time, and as much as you hoped for the timer to finally start ringing before he made it back to where you were standing, he was already there panting, three seconds before the alarm.

"How on earth-" You started, visibly flabbergasted.

Baekhyun only gave you a wide smile in response, running his slender fingers through his black hair. "I won."

No, no, no.

It couldn't be.

As your best friend's grin grew always wider and wider, you started to realize the inevitable, slowly starting to get mad at yourself for agreeing to all this in the first place.

You really lost that stupid bet.

And now you would have to sacrifice your first kiss for that.

AND, the person you would have to give it to would be none other than your very own best friend.

For a moment you were just quietly looking at some invisible point in the air, only to be pulled back into the cruel reality by a gentle, soft touch on both sides of your face.

You looked up, being met with Baekhyun's sparkling brown eyes and never disappearing smile. "I won, Y/N. You know what that means-"

"Buuuut-" You interrupted him, looking to the right and to the left, trying to make up some excuse.

To be honest, you didn't believe the efficiency of any excuse in this situation yourself, but it couldn't hurt to try, could it?

You were about to say something else, when you felt Baekhyun's hands slide gently from your cheeks to your neck, softly caressing your loose hair.

Alright, now the red blush which you felt creeping up your dewy cheeks must have been literally beaming.

"But, um, Baek, I'm wearing red lipstick." You said, not even knowing for what you were hoping anymore.

"So?"

"It's, um, it's not date proof." You said, finally looking at him. "So, you know, maybe it will be better to just leave it, it will smudge and stain and you know, we will look like some clowns-"

"Y/N." He slowly pulled you even closer to himself. "I don't care."

"But-"

"Smudge my entire face for all I care. I don't mind." He said, his lips now only millimeters away from yours.

"Baekhyun-"

But before you could say anything else, you felt a soft, warm sensation against your lips, followed by his hands still gently caressing your hair.

It was so gentle, so careful, and really slow, making you feel as if the time stopped around you.

And when you finally gave in closing your eyes and kissing him back, you immediately felt him smiling against your lips, only to deepen the kiss as if it was all he really cared about in this world.

It lasted for about a minute, and when you pulled away, the scarlet stains on Baekhyun's lips, chin, and even cheeks were the first thing you saw.

You felt your already blushing cheeks warming up even more, imagining how you must have looked yourself.

"You were right." Baekhyun said, caressing your, probably equally, lipstick stained cheek. "We really do be looking like clowns right now."

You looked up. You didn't know anymore if the red on his cheeks was only your lipstick, or if he was blushing himself too.

"I told you." You said quietly.

"Y/N." He started again, not breaking the eye contact. "I think this is the right moment to tell you that I really don't want you to look like clowns with anyone else who isn't me."

You only looked back at him, lost in his dazzling eyes.

You didn't need to ask anything else, it was obvious to you what was the real meaning behind his sentence.

"Don't worry, you are the one and only clown I care about." You said, giving him a sweet smile.

The way his face lit up after hearing that, could make even the sun jealous of his radiance.

For a moment you just stood there in the hallway, looking in each other's eyes and smiling.

You didn't even care when the students who came back to their evening lessons were giving you questionable and weird looks when they noticed your scarlet smudged faces.

You finally snapped back into reality, acknowledging the time.

"Baek, we need to go to our classroom." You said. "But-" You paused. "We might want to go and clean this up." You added, pointing at the glossy stains.

Baekhyun gave you what felt like the thousandth smile today.

"Bet who will Naruto run faster to the bathroom?"

"Baekhyun!"

A/N: leave me your thoughts!! as always reblogs save lives uwuw

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gingerale2017 · 3 years

Text

𝟛| ℂ𝕒𝕘𝕖

One year before the present day

Scarlet never thought that she would be noticed. Her whole life, she'd been invisible, but she always pushed to get attention. At first, it was to gain attention from her no-good father, who cared more about his drinks and women than his daughter. So she ran away to her grandmother's house. And that was when she lived in France. They moved here to New Beijing to get away from her father. But that was not the real reason. Scarlet had the same power as her grandma, the ability to have perfect accuracy. That's why she won dart night all the time. Her grandmother realized that there was no opportunity in France, so they moved to New Beijing. She met Selene, a girl in foster care with a terrible foster family. But then, a new superhero started showing up, calling herself 'Cinders.'

And Scarlet was a bit obsessed.

She told Selene all about Cinders, how she dressed, rumors, why her hair is always in a ponytail, her secret identity, etc. Selene was still flustered when Scarlet talked about Cinders and never talked much about the superhero with her. Selene would always change the subject when Scarlet would bring it up. Cinders were Scarlet's idol! When Selene was 14, and Scarlet was 16, she revealed herself as Channary's late daughter. Scarlet already knew this, but when Selene told her she was moving to Blackburn Skyscrapers. Scarlet freaked. She was losing her best friend. But then someone else took an interest in her. No other than Cinders herself!

Now here she was, a year later from everything, and was working with Cinders. But no one knew about Scarlet's power, and she kept it a secret because she didn't feel the need to tell anyone. She was happy and still obsessing over Cinders, and hopefully, she would stay like this for a very long time.

"Scarlet!" a familiar voice rang through the halls of the abandoned factory that the superheroes took over as their 'secret base', "Look out!" Android came running in; her arms stretched out and tackled Scarlet.

"What! What happened! Is there danger!" Scarlet exclaimed before Captain Thorn came flying in, carrying a big pole. It was more like he was flying away from something, "Did you hurt Cinder again?"

"It was an accident!" Thorne yelled, "I didn't mean to hurt Cinder; she was in the way!"

"Well, guess what, Dingus! Next time you're going to open your eyes and look at your surroundings before you go pole vaulting!" Cinders appeared in the doorway, her mask covering her eyes, and had a messy ponytail falling apart. She usually wore an all-black outfit with a black leather coat that reached her feet with orange streaks running through them. Her hair also had orange highlights in them. Scarlet had to admit; it looked pretty cool.

"Sorry, gorgeous, I didn't mean to give you a black eye to ruin your perfect face." Cinders growled and facepalmed. Captain Thorn had a traditional superhero outfit. With the red cape and everything.

"We have visitors!" The Androids voice rang. She wore a bodysuit that had a low cut on her chest. The outfit had pastel blue and lavender purple streak the white background. The colors went well with her dark skin and blue braids. All three of them wore masks over their eyes.

"Who's here? Nobody told me that we had people coming over," Scarlet looked at Cinders, and every time she did, a rush of excitement went through her. It was almost as if she couldn't believe she was here with three superheroes! One of them was her idol! Her heart thumped, and she looked away.

"Just some friends. They have information on the people being experimented on in Blackburn Industries."

"Last time you said a friend was coming over, and now we have the Frenchling," Thorne said. Scarlet scowled at him, and he gulped, "What I mean is, are we going to get some new superheroes?"

"Possibly. It depends if they want to or not." Cinder picked her nail with the metal-covered hand.

"Hello, fellow superheroes. I am Winter Hayle-Blackburn, at your service" A girl with dark brown skin and a pure white dress walked in gracefully, followed by a man with pale blonde hair. When Scarlet could see her face, she gasped. This girl was beautiful! She saw that there were scars under her left eye and briefly wondered what could've caused them. How did everyone get so attractive all of a sudden? Is it like a superhero gene or? Iko gasped and looked at Cinder, then back at Winter like she figured something out.

"Hi, Winter. You already know me. This is Android, Scarlet, and Thor-"

"Captain Thorn"

"Thorn. Anyways, you said that you have news for us?" Winter's eyes went wide and looked at the man behind her.

"Right. Jacin and I would like to talk to you all about the man in the cage."

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

"Ze'ev Kesley," Scarlet murmured, looking at the file Jacin had given them, "Who names their kid Ze'ev?" She looked at Android, who only shrugged in reply. They were at the back of the Blackburn Skyscraper, and Winter gave them a lock combination t get inside. Winter also instructed them to go to the basement, and they will find Selene there. Scarlet was excited to meet her friend again but a little scared. What if Selene changed? Well, at least she had Cinders.

Android punched in some numbers and opened the door. "Since we're all alone, I have some questions I've meant to ask you ever since you joined the team," Android said like they were going to gossip about boys.

"Oh no," Scarlet said under her breath.

"So, first, are you into anyone?"

"No?"

"Why did you say that like a question?"

"I don't know?" Android huffed as they made their way through the back tunnels. She wore regular civilian clothes for a change, and a blue hoodie covered her striking hair. She also wore a scarf and sunglasses to keep her identity hidden from Scarlet.

"Well, I do, and he's so cute," sighed the superhero dreamily.

"When did you meet him."

"The other day."

"Makes sense," only Android could fall in love with a person in a day. They went inside the elevator, and Scarlet pressed the button that went towards the basement.

"What about Cinders?" Scarlet looked at Android, confused.

"What about her?"

"You look at her the same way I look at Kai Pierce every time I see him on a picture." It was then Scarlet knew for sure that The Android has officially gone cuckoo bananas. Scarlet began to laugh.

"You're ridiculous."

"I think that I'm right." Scarlet laughed some more.

"Then I look at you and Thorne the same way," Scarlet looked up, "It's just that you guys are important, you two are superheroes, and I'm just the girl who helps them with minor tasks."

Android looked at Scarlet weirdly, "You know, Cinder, Thorne, and I have been considering telling you about our identities. And adding you as a fully-fledged member to our team!" Then, in one motion, The Android took out her sunglasses and scarf, and Scarlet gasped.

"One, this is not happening. Two, I have never seen you before in my life, so put the disguise back on. Three, I don't have- wait, I do."

"You don't have what?"

"Are there cameras in here?!"

"Yes, but they can't hear what we are saying."

"Oh, ok. But they can identify you!"

"No one knows who I am."

"Right," a ding disrupted their conversation, the elevator doors opened. Scarlet walked and recalled the directions that Winter had given them. She couldn't believe what Android just did. Scarlet refused too. But wait, did that mean that she was part of the team now? Will she get a name and a suit. The thought of being a superhero excited Scarlet so much; she could be jumping up and down. Then she saw someone she hadn't seen in a long time.

"Scarlet, you finally arrived! Long time, no see. Hey Iko." Selene was wearing a white shirt with green cargo pants with gloves and grease all over her face and smiled at Scarlet. Her old friend shared a secretive looked with The Android- WAIT! DID SELENE CALL THE ANDROID IKO!

"You know An- Iko?" Selene nodded

"Yep, she's The Android.' I tried to convince her to get a better name, but she like 'The Android'"

"Y-you know. wh-what is h-happen-ning r-right n-now." Scarlet felt like she was going to faint. Selen knew The Android. SINCE WHEN!

"It seems to me that Selene over here is Cinders, and Iko is The Android, and I, the incredibly handsome Carswell Rampion, is Captain Thorn." A guy appeared out of nowhere and slid an arm over Selene. No, CINDERS!

"Sorry I kept it from you all this time. I didn't know you had powers, and I didn't want to leave one of my closest friends behind, so I thought it would be better not to tell you."

"Wow. Umm, okay, this took a turn I did not expect."

"I think this is probably an inappropriate time to cut in, but Winter said some heroes were coming in to rescue me. I'm assuming that you guys are them?" Scarlet looked at a man older than her with striking green eyes. He had handsome features, and when he locked eyes with Scarlet, she looked away. She could also feel her cheeks heating up. He was behind metal bars placed inside the wall, and Scarlet didn't know how she didn't notice him until now. Maybe it was because she was just told THAT HER BEST FRIEND WAS CINDERS! SCARLET'S IDOL! THE HERO OF NEW BEIJING!

"Are Ze'ev Kesley?" Asked Selene- Cinders. The man nodded his head. He also had unruly dark brown hair. Scarlet briefly wondered how it would feel.

"Okay then. Our sources tell us, and by sources, I mean Winter, that you can shapeshift into any animal, am I right?

"Well, each animal takes time and practice to morph into. Sometimes it's painful, but the wolf is my favorite, and it's the easiest to control."

"So, do you have a pack or something?" Scarlet butted in. Ze'ev smiled warmly. She could felt her heart do a little backflip.

"No, but if I did, I would probably be the alpha. Hopefully." He looked away as if he was in deep thought.

"Yeah, I think so too." She smiled at Ze'ev, and he smiled back. Unlike other, certain men, Ze'ev was nice and warm. She liked that. Biting her lip, she looked up and felt something warm rush through her.

"I think I see some sparks flying," The Android- Iko singsonged. Snapping out of her trance, Scarlet glared at Iko and Thorne, who were snickering. She looked at the superheroes and saw not the great, extraordinary, talented, power-wielding celebrities. She saw normal teenagers. And Scarlet was one of them. Her friends had spilled all of their secrets, so Scarlet felt she had to do the same.

"Hey, guys. I have something I've been keeping from you as well."

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#lunar chronicles #linh cinder #cress darnel #emperor kai #rampion crew #winter hayle blackburn #jacin clay #captain thorne #fanfic #tlc #scarlet benoit #s #ze’ev kesley #iko

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citizen-l · 3 years

Text

01. Door

Chanyeol curses and wonders what he did to be locked out of his own apartment as the door slams on his face. In truth, it wasn't his fault. How was he to know that taking his roommate to a party would lead to him falling for Chanyeol's best friend. Which would lead to steamy make out sessions, and possibly more, in his apartment. Resulting in him being kicked out for the night.

Chanyeol tried not to think about the mess Junmyeon and Sehun would probably make. God, they better clean up afterwards.

He sighed and looked at the keys in his hand. Not his keys. Sehun had tossed those before shutting the door, telling Chanyeol to sleep at Sehun's place for the night. Jeez, a little warning would have been nice! Chanyeol didn't even get to unplug his phone from the charger. His laptop and notes are still open on his desk. This was ridiculous!

At least it was Friday. And Sehun did say his roommate was out on a date. So Chanyeol will have the place to himself. Since Sehun and Baekhyun even got a TV in their apartment, Chanyeol can just binge shitty soap operas and pass the night. Great plan, sure. Not like Chanyeol had a life or anything.

The walk to Sehun's place was short, and the night wasn't too warm or cold for Chanyeol to feel uncomfortable in his bed clothes. Jesus. He was wearing his sweats and an oversized sweater. He would've been embarrassed if people saw him like this in the daytime. Thankfully it was late enough in the night that not many were out and about. He felt like he was the one making the walk of shame back to his apartment. Ironic, since he was single, too busy to be in a relationship with anyone, and hadn't decided whether he just didn't like anyone all that much or if he was plainly aro. Not something he wanted to think about tonight.

He walked up the stairs to the third floor and went down the hall to Sehun's door. Chanyeol had been here multiple times since Sehun had moved in, but he never stayed over at night. Mainly because of Baekhyun. To be completely honest, Chanyeol was a little afraid of Sehun's flatmate. He wasn't sure what it was, but that tiny boy with cotton candy hair always made Chanyeol nervous.

Well, at least Baekhyun was out tonight. And judging by the way Sehun explained it, Baekhyun was unlikely to return until the next day. Chanyeol would be long gone by then.

Sehun's apartment was posh, spacious and modern, unlike Chanyeol and Junmyeon's tiny cramped flat with just two room and a tiny kitchen. The lights were on. Maybe it was a rich people thing, leaving the light on. Who cared about bills? Or maybe Sehun was too whipped and crazy for a fuck that he didn't even bother turning off the switches.

Jesus. Chanyeol sounded angry even to himself. He wasn't actually that angry, just a bit irritated to be collateral to other people's sexual activities.

Barely two steps in and he stopped dead, caught in a stare with a green faced guy standing in front on the kitchen with a bowl of soup. Before Chanyeol could do anything, the guy screamed and stumbled back, hitting the stool with his leg and splashing hot soup all over himself as he lost his grip on the bowl. Chanyeol hurried towards him to help, but it only backfired. The guy, Baekhyun, judging by the hair, became more agitated and fell back right where the bowl had crashed and broken.

"Motherfucker, ow!" Baekhyun cursed, forgetting for a moment his terror of seeing another person in his apartment.

Chanyeol's fear came true as Baekhyun inspected the pain in his hand and found a large cut, blood oozing down his arm. Chanyeol was there just in time to catch the pink haired boy before Baekhyun cursed again and fainted at the sight of blood.

Jesus, how did a lazy evening in Chanyeol's own apartment turn into spilled soup, bloody wounds and an unconscious twenty-two year old in his arms?

It took him two hours to get it all cleaned up. He debated calling Sehun, but he was probably too busy in the throes of passion to pick up the phone anyway, so Chanyeol decided to tackle one pressing issue at a time.

Baekhyun's cut wasn't deep, but it was long enough to cause alarm. Poor guy must've slid his hand right over the broken ceramic. Thankfully the soup wasn't scalding, not hot enough to bruise. Chanyeol decided the leather couch can weather some sticky chicken soup and carried Baekhyun over to lay him down. He found the first aid kit in the bathroom cabinet and went on to clean and dress the wound before Baekhyun woke up. Chanyeol never would have thought he'd be the kind of guy to lose his shit at the sight of blood. But, oh well, everyone had their kryptonite.

Cleaning up the broken bowl and soup was a bit harder, Chanyeol had to look for missing pieces of ceramic that got knocked away out of sight. It could cause more problems later on. By the time he was done, it was past midnight, and he was hungry enough to indulge in cooking himself a quick snack. Baekhyun was still unconscious on the sofa with his injured hand propped up over his head, breathing normally. He probably didn't get to have dinner if the soup was it. Chanyeol decided to make use of the ingredients in their fridge and make something for both of them.

"Ah fuck," Baekhyun cursed the moment he woke up. "This is so not my day."

"Hey," Chanyeol said quietly. "Don't freak out. I'm Chanyeol, Sehun's friend, remember?"

"Jesus, you could've knocked maybe?"

"Sorry," Chanyeol did realize he shouldn't have barged in like that. But in his defense, Sehun had told him nobody would be home. "I had Sehun's keys, he's spending the night at my place so, he said I could stay here, and that you'd be out. I didn't know you'd be at home."

"Right. Wait, why is he at your place?"

"Uh, my roommate, Junmyeon... "

"Good God, stop. No more. I've heard enough about Junmyeon this, Junmyeon that. No more. Let them fuck it out. I need a break."

Chanyeol agreed. It was slightly getting on his nerves as well. He went back to his meal, sitting on the floor and watching the muted sitcom.

"Oh, Uh, did you…?" Baekhyun sat up and fumbled with his bandaged hand.

"Oh yeah," Chanyeol looked back at him. "Sorry about that, I really didn't mean to startle you. I cleaned it up, the kitchen too, so don't worry about it. And, the cut isn't deep as far as I can tell, but you probably should get it checked out tomorrow, might require stitches."

"Just my luck," Baekhyun sighed. "You said you cleaned the kitchen?"

"Yeah, didn't want any more accidents happening tonight. Also, there's some stir fried rice and chicken if you want. I was hungry so..." Chanyeol pointed at his own food.

"You cleaned, and you cooked," Baekhyun repeated like he couldn't wrap his head around the facts. "Please switch places with Sehun and move in with me."

Chanyeol laughed, if only. His meager job wasn't even remotely enough to afford all this luxury.

"Alright, I'm gonna...I'm gonna go clean up. Jesus, what a night to do some beauty care. I've probably aged five years, a lot of good this mask will do me. And ugh, I smell like chicken, probably taste like it too."

Chanyeol couldn't help but laugh as Baekhyun slowly went to his room down the hallway grumbling about his bad luck. That was when Chanyeol realized that this was probably the first time he was ever alone with Baekhyun, and not once did he feel nervous or unsettled. He laughed, Baekhyun was actually funny. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad spending a night here like this. Granted, he could've done without the mess and injury.

Chanyeol finished his meal and cleaned up the leather sofa where Baekhyun had laid unconscious by the time the other boy came freshly showered and a little out of it.

"Uh, not to sound demanding or anything, but," Baekhyun sounded a little nervous. "Do you mind cleaning the bandage? It got wet and there's a red patch and...yeah."

Chanyeol tried not to laugh because it wasn't actually funny, it was just too adorable. Never did he imagine Byun Baekhyun, the boisterous theatre major around campus to be lightheaded because of blood. He looked too cute with his wet hair and too big T-shirt and loose shorts, holding up his injured arm and desperately trying not to look at the wound.

"Sit down, I'll get it cleaned up," Chanyeol said, taking out the aid kit again.

"You cleaned the couch," Baekhyun observed as he sat down, momentarily forgetting all about his injury and sounding surprised.

Chanyeol didn't bother replying, he focused on the task at hand.

"Close your eyes," he said and Baekhyun shut his eyes instantly. Button-like nose scrunched up, face a little red from rubbing off the mask, hand trembling outstretched.

Chanyeol sat on the floor and changed the dressing. Then he put things away neatly and brought Baekhyun the meal he had prepared.

"You can use your left hand, right?" Chanyeol asked.

Baekhyun gaped at the food, spoon clumsily held in his left grip. He nodded minutely and Chanyeol decided to focus on the TV screen.

"You can turn on the sound now, I'm wide awake," Baekhyun said. "Sorry for the drama, but then again, I'm an actor, what did you expect?"

"You're majoring in Theatre, right?" Chanyeol asked in conversation as Baekhyun nodded. "What do you do when you have to act with props like blood?"

"Well," Baekhyun scrunched up his red nose and Chanyeol had to bite his cheek to not smile. "It's not a big deal since I know it's fake. But when it's real…"

"That's okay," Chanyeol felt the sudden urge to reassure the guy. "I don't think there's anything to worry about, give it a week and it'll heal properly."

"Thanks," Baekhyun avoided eye contact. "For patching me up, twice. And for the meal."

"No worries. I'm sorry again for walking in on you like this. Giving you such a scare. Sehun told me you went on a date and won't be home tonight."

Baekhyun made a face. "Yeah, that…"

Chanyeol guessed it didn't go well. But he didn't want to ask, it was private.

"I didn't show," Baekhyun said.

He stood his date up? That's… a bit cruel, Chanyeol thought.

"No, that's a lie," Baekhyun sighed. "I showed up two hours early and sat watch from a distance and I was right, some guys just wanted to mess with me. So I came home and decided to pamper myself."

Chanyeol really wanted to know who those guys were. The anger he felt wasn't new, and he wasn't surprised how much he hated whoever those people were who wanted to mess with Baekhyun. Chanyeol hated guys like that who only preyed on other people thinking they were weak. Sure, Baekhyun was maybe small compared to a lot of the guys around campus, and his sassy attitude and cotton candy hair would hurt a lot fragile egos, but Chanyeol really struggled to understand why people would want to hurt a complete stranger.

"Do you know those guys?" Chanyeol asked even as he tried to hold himself back.

"Yeah, don't worry about it, I took care of them. They're probably sitting in a cell for the night. I reported them."

Chanyeol felt relieved. Though guys like that deserved more than a night in a cell, at least nobody got hurt today. Or, at least not by them. He felt a pang of guilt thinking he was the reason Baekhyun got hurt. Jeez, why couldn't Sehun just wait until daytime to have his way with Junmyeon?

"You always like this, a neat freak?" Baekhyun asked when Chanyeol grabbed his empty plate and went on to clean it at the sink.

Heat in his cheeks probably was evidence enough that he was blushing. Chanyeol's inability to leave anything unclean or untidy was not necessarily a problem, he didn't think he was obsessive about it. But it did stand out sometimes. Especially while living with Junmyeon who was not the neatest or tidiest person in the world.

"Sorry, habit," Chanyeol said.

"Oh, don't be sorry at all. I haven't done a single thing since you came. Please teach some manners to Sehun."

"He's a little beyond help."

"Unfortunate."

Baekhyun bid him goodnight, giving him free reign of Sehun's bed as he went to his own. Chanyeol never made it to the bed, however. He was dozing while sitting on the ground with his head back on the couch when cold fingers shook him awake.

It took him a while to wake and sit up properly, not knowing what was going on since it was still pitch dark with only the light of the TV.

Then he registered Baekhyun's strained voice. He was alert immediately, remembering everything that happened last night.

"Uh, I think… I got hurt… in my sleep… it's... "

The wound was bleeding, blood seeped through the hem of the bandage and down Baekhyun's arm. Maybe the wound was deeper than Chanyeol thought.

Before he could say anything, Baekhyun fainted right on top of him like a sack of potatoes. He was lighter than Chanyeol thought, which he hadn't exactly noticed hours before when Baekhyun first fainted.

Chanyeol laid the guy down on the sofa again and reached for his phone, only then remembering that his phone was back in his apartment. Christ.

Chanyeol quickly walked to Baekhyun's room. His phone was password locked, but Chanyeol could still use it in case of emergency. He grabbed the first pair of shoes he thought would fit Baekhyun and slid them into unconscious feet.

"Baekhyun? Baek... " waking the guy wasn't very successful. He was probably too tired, and the blood loss was probably not helping. Damn guy was too pale to have much blood in him anyway.

Chanyeol knew he was being stupid. Baekhyun probably just needed a full night's rest and a visit to the doctor's in the morning. But the guilt was eating at Chanyeol.

The pharmacy was maybe seven minutes away. Double, if Chanyeol had to carry an unconscious Baekhyun all the way there. But that was still better than sitting here and not doing anything. What if there was a piece of ceramic stuck in the wound that Chanyeol hadn't been able to clean?

He roused Baekhyun enough to carry him on his back and make sure he wouldn't fall off, and then he locked the doors and headed out.

"The wound nicked a vein, nothing big, just needed a few stitches," the pharmacist said while performing the sutures.

Chanyeol was a little relieved that Baekhyun was awake again. Sitting with his eyes closed, his uninjured hand gripping the packet of strawberry milk he had requested and humming some song to distract himself. At least he'll be fine.

Chanyeol, however, couldn't shake off the weird gaze of the pharmacist and his assistant at the counter. They looked at Chanyeol the same way people looked at murder suspects. He tried to not show his nervousness.

That worked until an officer walked in purposefully and stood right in front of, sizing Chanyeol up.

"You okay, son?" the officer asked Baekhyun directly.

"Oh, Joey! What are you doing here?" Baekhyun asked. Gone was the faintness of his voice and dullness of his eyes. He was again distracted from his own distress as he focused on anything but his injury.

"Byun! I really didn't think you were the one they called me about, I got those bastards you told me about. I didn't think they hurt you!"

Someone called the officer. Probably the assistant pharmacist. Good God, they probably thought Chanyeol purposely hurt Baekhyun and brought him here at four in the morning. Jesus Christ, what the hell was happening?

"Oh no, this was at home," Baekhyun said casually. Almost cheerfully.

Chanyeol nearly swallowed his own tongue as three pairs of eyes honed in on him and Baekhyun remained oblivious, or pretended to. That was it, Chanyeol was going to jail.

"I slipped in the kitchen, got soup all over me. Dreadful thing. And then I managed to fall on my ass and scrape my hand on a broken bowl!" Baekhyun summarized it like telling a story.

"I'd say this is more than a scrape," the pharmacist grumbled. "If you hadn't bandaged it properly, you would have lost a lot of blood by now."

"Well it's all thanks to Chanyeol. I can't even look at blood, makes me faint. He cleaned up the wound and everything. Even carried me all the way, can you believe it?"

No, they could not. But at least they didn't think Chanyeol knifed Baekhyun's hand himself. That was good enough for now.

"I'd be lying in my own pool of blood, dead, if it weren't for Chanyeol!"

He probably wouldn't be hurt in the first place if it weren't for Chanyeol. But nobody needed to know that. He looked up at the others and they seemed convinced Chanyeol wasn't the bad guy here.

This is why Chanyeol had always been nervous around Baekhyun. Or, to be more precise, nervous because of other people due to Baekhyun's presence. This guy could make friends with patrol officers and pharmacists and make them feel concerned for him in a heartbeat. That was some power to have over people. Not saying Baekhyun was manipulative, on the contrary, he was sweet and charming and that won hearts.

"You sure you don't want me to drop you off?" Joey said as he got into his patrol car.

"Nah, it's okay, I think I need to walk it off, have some fresh air to feel a bit better."

"Alright," Joey eyed Chanyeol one last time and then smiled at Baekhyun. "Call me if there's any trouble." And then he was off.

Jesus, that was nerve wracking. Chanyeol desperately wanted to go back to his own cramped tiny apartment with the partitioned room he shared with Junmyeon and sleep in his own bed.

"You really didn't have to carry me all the way here, did you?" Baekhyun asked as they walked back to the apartment.

"Didn't wanna risk it, and it was a short distance."

"Short!" Baekhyun laughed. "I can't decide whether I should be glad you were there or me mad at you for causing the accident in the first place."

"Sor…" Chanyeol was going to apologize again but Baekhyun cut him off.

"I'm not mad, don't worry about it. It was just an accident. I'd blame Sehun but it was my choice to come back home, my choice to go on a date with a douche bag in the first place, their fault for being douchebags and waiting to gang up on me… what's the point of blaming. We're all still alive and well, let's just enjoy the moment."

It wasn't such a bad philosophy, especially at nearly half past five with the sun coming up on the horizon and cold breeze sending mild chills through the body. Chanyeol looked at Baekhyun when he realized the boy was only wearing a thin, oversized T-shirt. He should've put a jacket on him before rushing him to the pharmacy.

"Let's hurry back," Chanyeol said.

"What's the rush, let me enjoy the cool weather."

"You'll catch a cold."

Chanyeol didn't realize Baekhyun had stopped walking until he was a few steps ahead without the pink head near his shoulder. He looked back to find Baekhyun gawking at him with his mouth open.

"What, what's wrong?" Chayeol quickly turned back. "You okay? Feeling lightheaded?"

"Uh…" Baekhyun stuttered. "Yeah, I think so. Think you can carry me the rest of the way?"

"Yeah sure, get on my back, it'll be easier," Chanyeol crouched down and waited for him to lean forward.

Even after seconds, Chanyeol didn't feel an extra body on him. He turned his head and looked up. Baekhyun was still staring at him open-mouthed.

"Baekhyun?"

"Hm what?"

"Get on?"

"Oh yeah, never turning down a ride," Baekhyun said as he leaned his weight on Chanyeol and grabbed his shoulders while locking his legs around Chanyeol's waist.

Chanyeol faintly wondered whether Baekhyun was joking or not, faking his lightheadedness. But he didn't think too much about it, the apartment was barely five minutes away. It was good exercise anyway.

"Jesus, what do you do to become this giant ball of goodness with muscles?"

Chanyeol nearly avoided stumbling on the stairs as he went up to the apartment. Giant ball of goodness? What?

"You can put me down now," Baekhyun whispered, breath fanning the shell of Chanyeol's ear and almost making him lose his grip on Baekhyun's thighs.

Chanyeol dropped Baekhyun safely on his feet and handed him Sehun's keys. Baekhyun gladly opened the door and walked in.

"I think I'll head back now," Chanyeol said from the threshold.

"Oh, isn't it too early?" Baekhyun looked back tilting his head.

He looked less pale now, maybe the sugar of the strawberry milk helped, or maybe the walk. Baekhyun looked good, not sick. Better. Pale pink hair all ruffled, clothes swallowing his thin frame, shorts and boots looking adorably comical with his bed shirt. Chanyeol was staring.

"No, Junmyeon usually gets up by now, I can catch him if I go now before he starts his morning run."

"Shame," Baekhyun said. "Well, if you must go."

Chanyeol didn't know what to do when Baekhyun kissed him full on the mouth. He tasted sweet like strawberry. Lips soft like candy. Chanyeol hardly brought up a hand, fingertips grazing Baekhyun's angular jaw when he suddenly pulled away, leaving Chanyeol gasping and gaping at the shorter guy.

"Thanks for the rescue!" Baekhyun laughed. His cheeks soft and glowing in the rising sun.

Chanyeol didn't have time to react until the apartment door was being shut. For the second time in less than 8 hours, Chanyeol was standing in front of a closed door and desperately questioning his life. What just happened?

#fanfic #exo #university au #mmromance #fluff #part one #byun baekhyun #park chanyeol #chanbaek #writeblr #writing #my writing #writers on tumblr #ao3 writer #fiction

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