#i just...why does my body choose violence every day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yuna542 · 9 months

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Unwanted Bodyguards

Pairing: WooJin + GunWoo x Reader

Word Count: 14.4k

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Bodyguards x Reader

Warnings: Smut!, Under 18 DNI!, Swearing, Pet names, voyeurism, cum play, overstimulation, threesome, oral (f&m receiving), fingering, , masturbation, swearing, motions of violence and wounds

Note: FINALLY! I made it! Worked on this quiet a while. I could hardly choose between them, so why not both? Hope you like it and I could meet your expectations. Let me now what you think.

Summary: After a failed assassination attempt is made on you to harm your grandfather Mr Choi, he locks you up against your will for your safety. Even the incredible luxury villa with pool does not lift your spirits as you can no longer join forces with your sister against your grandfather's enemies. And to make matters worse, he also forces two ridiculously hot boxers on you who are supposed to keep an eye on you all the time and protect you. Soon the forced quarantine with the two young men turns out to be more exciting than you expected.

"Shit, I'm gonna kill you! Let me go! God damn it!"

"Yeah yeah. Sure.”

All the tugging and kicking did nothing against Yang-Jun's firm grip. The knife fighter dragged you out of the car you had refused to get out of by yourself only minutes before. Doo-Young stood in front of the car, waiting as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

"Please don't make this harder than it is," he sighed, and you glared angrily at him as the older one tried to hold your hands.

"Why are you going along with this? I can help! You know I can!"

"Orders from the boss," Yang-Jun growled, then grumbled:

"Arms up!"

"What are you doing?" you snapped at him, giving the mansion behind him a disparaging look.

This was going to be your dungeon for the next few weeks. The white walls with black shingle roofs stood out elegantly against the trimmed lawn and box trees in the front yard.

Without hesitation, he yanked your arms up and scanned your body. First your torso, then your hips, down your sides, and finally your legs, where he looked carefully in every pocket of your cargo pants.

"We need to take any weapons from you so you don't do anything stupid," Doo-Young explained, and you leaned against the car they had used to drag you here. When your grandfather's two hit men showed up at the bar you had been secretly observing for days, you knew something was wrong.

Three days ago, you had snuck out of the hospital because Choi would never have let you go off on your own.

"This is ridiculous! Are you into groping young girls Oppa? Let Doo-Young do it, then at least I'll get something out of it!" you said with a typical evil glint in your eyes.

Both of them just snorted and Doo-Young quickly averted his eyes. He'd never been able to handle your flirting, and that made it all the funnier for you.

„Don't worry, you're not my type. I'm not into ungrateful brats", the older one mumbled grumpy as always. You chuckled and looked at him with those devilish eyes.

„I'm everybody's type, right Doo-Young?"

He just sighed overwhelmed, because you were not wrong. In fact you had that thing about you, that let every guy crumble in front of you and beg for even the tiniest bit of attention.

The two of them had not only become your mentors after all these years, but something like friends. They had watched you grow up, rescued you from the orphanage with Mr. Choi, and molded you. That's why they weren't surprised when he pulled out a pistol from your belt, three throwing knives and a baton from the hidden holster on your back.

Yang-jun threw everything into a box on the back seat and looked at you inquiringly.

"Was that all?"

You jutted your chin defiantly and crossed your arms in front of your chest.

"Yes. That was all."

But Doo-Young interfered and turned back to you, arms crossed.

"Back pocket," he said simply, and by then Yang-jun was already whirling you around again and pressing you hard against the car.

Cursing, you bared your teeth as he pulled the folding knife from your pocket and looked at it, shaking his head. Then he tossed it to the rest of your weapons.

"Now she's your problem," he said, turning to his colleague and patting his hands on his pants.

As Doo-Young approached you, you raised your hands defensively.

"Don't you dare put me in that golden cage!" you growled dangerously, but he unceremoniously grabbed you by the hips and threw you over his shoulder.

"I'm really sorry, little one, but the order came from the very top."

Cursing, you slammed your fists on his back, but his grip was so tight that you couldn't do anything. Not only was he one of the best fighters you knew, unfortunately he was also your friend and you didn't want to hurt him.

So he carried you to the entrance, unlocked the door with a key card and an extra code, and didn't let you down until you were in the living room.

Offended, you threw yourself on the big red velvet sofa and pouted.

"Hey, there are worse places to be safe," he said carefully, looking around the luxury mansion. The pool in the backyard glistened through the large windows, and the huge kitchen made quite a impressive impact as well. A spiral staircase led up to the second floor, where your room, a guest room and a dressing room was. As well as another bathroom with a whirlpool and walk-in shower. A fitness area on the patio, huge bookshelves crammed with stuff for years. The house had everything you could want, and yet you just wanted to get as far away as possible.

"Just get out!" you hissed without looking at him, pressing your face deeper into the pillow.

„Traitor..."

"Y/N... You have to understand Mr. Choi. He's worried about you. You got busted and killed three of Myeong-Gil's men. Just a few days ago, you woke up in the hospital. If he gets hold of you, he will not only torture you to get information, but also kill you to harm your grandfather."

Silently, you tried to ignore him. Everything he said was true and yet you hated him for saying it out loud.

"I'm going to leave now. If anything happens, call me! Please!"

You groaned in annoyance and sat up before he could just leave.

"I'll have to. You took away my weapons, after all," you replied, and he was clearly relieved when you stopped looking at him with such hostility.

Then he spread his arms and grinned in amusement.

"Come on. It's going to be okay."

Sighing, you scrambled to your feet and hugged him. Satisfied, he smiled and stroked your back. It was inconceivable to him how such a slender girl had cut down three armed men in cold blood with only a knife. Maybe they had trained you too well.

"Take care of yourselves and let me know if there's anything new" you murmured against his chest, looking up at him pleadingly.

"I promise," he replied, then let go of you again.

As soon as he disappeared through the door and the alarm was turned on, such a loneliness seized you that you trembled. Sighing, you wrapped your arms around your knees and lay on the couch in the huge house. Like a lonely kitten, abandoned in a huge forest.

The very next morning, you heard someone at the door and with a glance at the camera, you scrunched your face. Mr. Choi, Hyun-Ju and two young men were standing in front of it.

Astonished, you let them in and greeted your grandfather briefly before wrapping your sister in your arms.

"Shit, when you disappeared from the hospital, I thought something bad had happened to you," she said, hugging you a little tighter than necessary.

As soon as you got your breath back, you went ahead into the living room, where you took your seats. Except for the two young guys. They seemed to be a little older than you and both of their eyes almost fell out of their heads as they looked at the mansion from the inside. They elbowed each other excitedly in the sides like little kids, yet they remained silent.

"Is your shoulder better?" asked Choi worriedly, eyeing you intently.

You were wearing sweatpants and a cropped top under which the white bandage peeked out.

"It's not that bad. Who's that?" you asked directly, pointing at the two men.

Hyun-Ju raised her eyebrows meaningfully and stared at the ground, as if she knew what was coming next.

"Those are two young men I trust very much," the old man began, and you frowned.

"I'm Gunwoo," said the one who had shoulders so broad you could hide behind him. He had warm eyes and a really adorable face. Then the other one bowed as well:

"My name is Woojin, nice to meet you."

He too was unnaturally attractive. Curly hair, a sharper face, higher cheekbones and mischievousness in his eyes. They seemed completely different and yet they harmonized without saying a word.

"What's all this about?" you asked without answering them, looking to your grandfather. Both of them eyed you inconspicuously and looked at each other in surprise. Neither of them had expected such a young and attractive lady when they agreed to the job.

"I am worried about you. This mansion has not yet been discovered by Myeong-gil. But if he finds you here, I want you protected. These two men will do that job. They will be your bodyguards."

Stunned, you jumped up and stared back and forth between him and the boys, as if waiting for someone to break up this bad joke.

"What, no! I don't need bodyguards. No way! Those two aren't going to follow me all day!" you shouted a little louder than you meant to and looked to Hyun-Ju. You searched for any kind of help in her gaze, but she just shrugged apologetically.

"This is not negotiable. They will move into the guest room until this is all over!"

Mr. Choi's tone brooked no argument, and you pressed your lips together, seething with anger.

"They are for your protection. You almost got killed! It's not a bad thing!" your sister said and you slowly shook your head.

"You mean they are here to prevent me from leaving and to keep an eye on me?"

You didn't get an answer to that. Stunned, you snorted and looked at them again. Yes they were damn good-looking, trained, and if you ran into them in a club or bar, you would have had your fun with them for sure.

"We're boxers and used to fighting. We can protect you if it's necessary," Gunwoo said then, almost seeming to wince under your piercing gaze.

The way they looked at you, wide-eyed and trying to hide their staring wandering up and down your body, gave you naughty ideas. Maybe this whole thing could get pretty interesting after all.

"All right... I don't have a choice anyway," you muttered, and that's when your grandfather exhaled in relief.

He said goodbye shortly after and at the door your sister said a little louder than necessary:

"Don't devour them both at once."

You grinned knowingly and she just smirked. Hyun-Ju knew very well that they both suited your taste and she also knew that hardly any man would last longer than 24 hours near you without weakening.

You were self-confident, a flirt and loved attention. You also knew how to use your advantages and how to wrap men around your finger.

As soon as the old man and Hyun-Ju disappeared, you turned to the boys and put your hands on your hips. That's when you also spotted the suitcases they had smuggled in with them.

"What are your orders?"

"Orders?" asked Gunwoo meekly, and you rolled your eyes.

"What did grandfather tell you to do? Are you here to watch me? Report to him on my daily routine?"

Gunwoo looked like a scared bunny by now and you doubted his ability as a fighter a little. At least if his biceps weren't twice the size of your head. Woojin stepped in and smiled charmingly.

"He just asked us to watch over you and keep an eye on you so nothing would happen to you of course."

"So you're supposed to spy on me all the time?" you asked, walking past them into the living room. They followed you up to the second floor with their bags.

"Uh no. We're supposed to stay close to you, but we don't have to watch you... like… All the time", Gunwoo mumbled a bit overwhelmed.

"We're not stalkers or perverts or anything," Woojin quickly added.

"We didn't even know you were so young and.... and looking like...", Gunwoo stammered, obviously lacking the right words.

That's when you glanced over your shoulder and when your eyes met, no sound at all passed his lips anymore. Woojin jumped in and put a hand on his shoulder:

"We didn't know you were a young pretty lady. Hyun-Ju told us you were hot-tempered and dangerous to men..."

Gunwoo elbowed him in the side and gave him a warning look but you smiled knowingly with your back to them. This was going to be fun.

Hyun-Ju was not your biological sister. Like you, she was from the same orphanage, and the two of you had been inseparable since the day you saved her from an older bully by stabbing a fork through his hand.

Through her, you eventually came to the attention of Mr. Choi. He was quickly taken with your courage and emotionality, which is why he adopted you as his own flesh and blood, just like Hyun-Ju.

But unlike her, he could not keep you under control. You learned how to use weapons from his best assassins and as soon as Myeong-Gil reappeared, you were the first to spy on him. Your sister soon joined in and one thing led to another until you stupidly ended up in the hospital.

You opened the door to the guest room and stretched out your arm invitingly.

"This is for you. We only have a kingsize bed, but I think that will be enough."

The two looked around the room in amazement, Woojin directly pawing at the decoration in the form of scrolled sculptures and both of them seemed unaccustomed to such luxury. If they worked for Choi they were probably poor wretches from the street in his debt.

You leaned against the doorframe and looked at the two of them.

Gunwoo's smile was really cute and Woojin had that attractive charisma of a daredevil. They both made a nice sight and so at least you wouldn't get bored anytime soon.

"My room is right next door.... If you want to stop by," you said and they both froze and looked at you questioningly. As you grinned in amusement, you could see that they were both breaking out in a sweat.

You were making them nervous.

After all, they already agreed without words that they had never seen a prettier girl. Your long lashes framed your mysterious eyes and your body stood out softly under the fabric of your loose clothes. Likewise your features were engaging and the beckoning smile on your red lips was beguiling.

"I'm going to order some food. Do you like pizza?" you asked and they both nodded quickly.

Then you left them alone to get settled.

As soon as they heard you on the stairs, Woojin whirled around to Gunwoo and stared at him meaningfully.

"Dude!"

"She's hot..."

Gunwoo swallowed emphatically.

"Yeah, but she scares me."

"Hell yes. She's scary!"

The next morning, you had almost forgotten that the two boxers were still here, but when you saw Woojin already sitting on the patio with a coffee in his hand and Gunwoo standing by the punching bag, you sighed softly.

"I see you found the punching bag..." you said and both heads flew in your direction.

You were wearing a sports bra and tight leggings that showed your round curves underneath. You put down the yoga mat you were carrying rolled up under your arm and tied your hair in a high ponytail.

"Good morning," Gunwoo greeted you and you eyed him not exactly inconspicuously.

He was shirtless and sweat glistened on his remarkably defined muscles. He looked really really sexy with the bandaged fists, the focused expression on his face. So now you got a much better picture of the boxer.

Woojin was waving air at himself and had probably exerted himself on the punching bag just before.

At your glance to Gunwoo, he also pulled his shirt over his head and you grinned slightly as he stretched emphatically and also presented his muscles.

"Did you sleep well boss?" he asked, propping his elbows on his knees as you stretched.

"Yes. It's nice not to have to sleep in the hospital bed anymore. How about you guys? Do you like it here?" you asked, and as you stretched to loosen your muscles and tendons, Gunwoo flopped down next to Woojin on the cream-colored couch and they both watched your elegant movements.

"It's incredible. I've never been in a mansion like this," Gunwoo said in awe and Woojin nodded in agreement. How cute.

"You can make yourself some breakfast in the kitchen," you said and started your work-out.

They both looked at each other silently and then disappeared inside. There, Woojin leaned against the counter and looked at Gunwoo:

"This is insane..."

Gunwoo nodded and prepared sandwiches with ingredients he found in the refrigerator.

"There's a huge tub with jets in the bathroom!"

"I think it's called a whirlpool," Gunwoo smirked ironically, as Woojin mimicked his know-it-all manner mockingly and stuck his head into the fridge. However, he found only healthy vegetables, fruits and little meat. Astonished, he glanced at Woojin, whose gaze was transfixed on something behind the window.

"She seems to be eating very healthy. Takes care of her body, I guess."

"I can tell..." his buddy replied, and that's when Gunwoo got curious. He placed the toasts on the sideboard and stood next to him to also get a look at what had him so enthralled.

"Look at this... Would you have expected that?" asked Woojin, and Gunwoo's eyes nearly fell out.

You sprawled elegantly on the mat, stretching until you landed loosely in the splits. With your back to them, they had a perfect view of your body and especially your ass. Sensual curves paired with toned muscles without losing your femininity.

You were steaming hot and under those tight gym clothes, they could easily imagine what you would look like without them.

"No... Not in a thousand years. With that view, I'll never complain about getting up early again."

They watched you for a while through the big window doing different yoga exercises and both of them automatically imagined how you would feel under them. All flexible, with the slim waist and round breasts.

The next few days did not get any easier for them.

Often you caught their eyes wandering longer along your curves, holding their breath as you pushed past them in the kitchen, your butt grazing their crotch, your fingers touching their arms, or you accidentally brushing along their shoulders while passing by.

It was fun to tease them and with each passing day they became more restless. By the third day at the villa, your head was nearly bursting.

No call, no message from Hyun-Ju or Choi. There was complete silence and that was important, but it drove you crazy to be without knowledge of what was happening in the outside world right now. Myeong-Gil was dangerous and the thought of something happening to your family and you not noticing anything because you were stuck in that luxury hell was horrible.

Besides, your wound was almost completely healed, you were more flexible again and you got bored and that was even more dangerous.

One evening you were sitting on the couch, stretching and trying to loosen the bandage that was wrapped around your shoulder, but no matter how much you twisted around, you couldn't get it off. Woojin watched this for quite a while and then poked Gunwoo hard in the side, who looked up from his cell phone, startled. Woojin pointed his chin in your direction and pushed him toward you meaningfully.

"Do you need help?" he asked then, and you glanced at him briefly before exhaustedly blowing a strand of hair out of your forehead.

"That would be nice," you murmured, even if it scratched your pride.

He moved closer while Woojin watched you curiously.

"Can you just loosen the bandage and take it off?" you asked, turning your back to him. He nodded, taking in your flowery scent that surrounded them the whole time and played with the guys senses. You pulled your shirt over your head and held it in front of your bare breasts. Woojin, who was sitting across from you, quickly turned his gaze to the floor. That you had no sense of shame was something he would probably never get used to. You always ripped your clothes of before going in the shower, without a second thought about him being also in the bathroom, brushing his teeth. He would also never get used to your body, which he wanted to look at all the time and trace every line with his fingers.

You smirked and Gunwoo exhaled loudly before tampering with the clamps with shaky fingers, carefully loosening them and beginning to roll the bandage off your arm, shoulder and torso.

"How did this happen?" he asked into the silence, trying to drown out the nervous tingling in his fingers stroking your soft skin and Woojin's nervous foot tapping. "Myeong-gil somehow found out that I was a spy.... I had snuck into his place, been a spy among his people, but before I knew it, I was exposed. His goon and three men ambushed me in my apartment."

"Shit," Woojin gasped, looking at you now after all, full of enthusiasm.

"Three of them I was able to take out with my knives.... Kang In-Beom I didn't manage. He plunged my own knife into my back from behind and left me to die. If it hadn't been for Hyun-Ju, I would have bled to death there," you recounted, and both of you could see how you shuddered at the memory of the pain, the adrenaline of the fight, and the fear for your life.

Gunwoo had removed the bandage and was looking at the stab wound on your shoulder blade, which by now gave off a red scar, too fine for the act of cruelty with which it was forced on you.

They were equally surprised and awed that the girl before him was so different from what she seemed after all.

"You have also had experience with the gorilla and his master?" you asked, pointing to Gunwoo's scar that ran across his jaw and was not unlike the one on your back. Then you pulled your shirt back over your head.

Gunwoo nodded slowly:

"Myeong-gil trashed my mother's cafe and gave me the scar. He brought ruin to my family and Mr. Choi saved us. For that, I am eternally grateful to him."

The loyal expression in his eyes and the strength, the indomitable courage they both exuded was refreshing. Attractive.

"Yes, he is always like that..." you murmured, tilting your head slightly as you raised your hand. You expected him to flinch, but he just looked you serenely in the eye as you ran gentle fingertips over his scar.

"It suits you. Our scars remind us about what's really important."

The boys were always amazed by you anew. Behind the tough, intelligent facade was a deep, emphatically girl who made an impression on both of them.

They admired you, were soon crazy about you. You also liked to be around them, to be looked at, to glare at them when they weren't looking.

Just playing with the boxers, like with small dogs, embarrassing them or making them nervous was not enough anymore.

So you decided to leave. You had already escaped from the hospital, so the ivy-covered wall around the estate was not a problem, was it?

Without thinking much about it, at noon you headed for a place in front of large stones that served as decoration around the pool.

You swallowed hard as you looked up. It was at least twenty feet you had to climb.

You had told the boys that you wanted to take a bath and therefore needed your privacy. They hadn't questioned it and Gunwoo had just rushed out of the bathroom with a red head when you just started to undress in front of him.

You had snuck past Woojin, who was doing push-ups and lifting weights in the living room, just like every morning. The guys were working out so much that you feared an apocalypse was coming. However, you didn't complain about the sight. Quite the opposite.

Confidently, you grabbed an ivy vine and pulled yourself up until you found a foothold with one foot. Just as you were about to pull yourself higher, you lost contact underfoot and felt two strong hands on your hips, plucking you from the wall like a ripe grape.

A startled squeak escaped you and you tried to free yourself from the tight grip by kicking.

"Let me go right now!" you yelled, and Gunwoo set you back on the floor, but not without pressing you firmly against his chest.

Cursing, you resisted, trying to shake off his hands until he wrapped both arms tightly around your torso and you barely had room to breathe.

"I'm really sorry, but we can't let you go. This is for your own safety!" he pressed out strained as he pulled you away from the wall.

Snarling and flailing like a cat gone wild you tried to move his arms away, Gunwoo looked around frantically for Woojin, who had already rushed across the yard to help.

"Stop that right now! You're both fired!" you shouted and a desperate yelp escaped you as Woojin tried to grab your wrists.

"I'm pretty sure you can't fire us," Woojin said and you tried to fight off his hands.

Together they tried to drag you back to the house where the big canapés were lined up.

You were startled yourself when in the heat of the moment you hit Woojin on the lip with your fist, but he didn't even flinch, instead pressing your hands against your body, his chest pressed tightly against yours.

You could see blood flashing at his mouth and tried to ignore your guilty conscience. Still, your resistance weakened a bit. Your muscles were already burning from the tension.

Finally, they managed to throw you onto the cream-colored canapé with the red cushions and before you could jump up, Gunwoo pounced on you and pinned you with his massive body underneath. His hands pressed your wrists firmly into the mattress next to your head and he was between your legs, so you couldn't even begin to fight his weight.

"Stop that! It's no use!" he said, and that's when you paused for a moment. Angrily, you glared at him and stared him straight in the eye.

"You guys are really pissing me off! Just let me go!"

Gunwoo sighed loudly and braced himself so he wouldn't hurt you with his weight. Like a wall, he cut you off from the outside world, and only when your pulse calmed down again did you begin to realize what position you were in.

Silently, he watched you, perplexed, as a strand of hair fell into your eyes, as the strap of your top slipped off your shoulder, revealing your white lace bra. He felt your soft body under him, your breasts, how they nestled against his chest and how your skirt had slipped up.

Directly he became insanely hot and indecent thoughts crept into his head.

"What are you going to do now?" you asked sharply, blinking at him through your thick lashes. He was even more handsome up close and you could feel his hard abdominal muscles against your body.

"Wait until you calm down and promise not to run away again."

You sparkled at him and jutted your chin a little. As you spoke, his warm breath brushed against your face and his eyes wandered aimlessly across your face.

"Why would I do that?"

"Because Mr. Choi will kill us if you don't."

The two of you were silent for a few seconds until the patio door opened and Woojin came back out with a cloth pressed against his bloody lip. You hadn't even noticed that he had disappeared, so focused were you on each other.

Gunwoo made no effort to move, and when his gaze fixed on your lips, you smiled slightly.

Teasingly you stretched your pelvis towards him until your middle brushed against his crotch and he noticed that your dress had ridden up so high that your panties were visible. However, you didn't seem to mind. His grip loosened on your wrists and his cheeks flushed as you felt a glint of it, causing arousal to shoot between your legs.

Your pretty face with deep-set eyes drove him crazy and he automatically had to imagine what it would be like to fuck your brains out in that position. Hearing your moans as he thrusted into you.

"You know I like it rough, right?" you mumbled and Woojin swallowed loudly.

"...Excuse me?"

Gunwoo looked completely overwhelmed, but his body's reaction spoke volumes. You rolled your hips at him again and this time he clearly felt your cunt against his now hardening dick.

"Well, considering the position we're in, I think we can take advantage of that, no?"

He exhaled loudly and let go of you.

Head flushed and clearing his throat, he turned away and sat down next to you. Seeking help, he looked at Woojin, who just stared at you.

Then he pressed a pillow to his middle and mumbled a curt apology before disappearing into the house.

Amused, you tilted your head and brushed your dress back into place.

"Is he always this uptight?" you asked, and to be honest, you wanted them even more now.

Woojin swallowed and then put on a grin.

"With beautiful women, you can sometimes lose your composure."

"Charming," you replied, stroking his shoulder as you passed, which made him freeze.

Then you settled down next to him on the couch and took the cloth from his hand.

Carefully, you dabbed at his lip, leaning against his bare chest as you did so, and said in a honeyed voice:

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

He held your wrist tightly, thus catching your gaze. The amber of his eyes was streaked with golden speckles. He was stunningly beautiful, too, and his muscles tensed under your fingertips.

"Half as bad. As a boxer, I'm used to worse."

You gazed at him through your thick lashes and as he took the cloth from your hands and leaned forward to set it aside, your gaze traveled over his broad shoulders and the muscles on his back that were tensing.

You noticed the tattoo on his back and touched it with feathery fingertips.

"You served?" you asked curiously, and he shuddered as you stroked along the lines. His entire body tingled as you leaned against him and he felt your tits against his torso.

"Yes. You know about this sort of thing?" he asked incredulously. You smiled slightly and ran your fingers over the tattoo.

"Not really. But I'm interested. It's hot..."

Woojin's eyes lit up and his enthusiasm was contagious.

"Do you have a girlfriend or Gunwoo?" you asked then, and he stumbled over his words:

"No... There's not much time besides boxing."

You nodded and ran your fingers down his shoulder, over his biceps, to his inner arm. He watched how you bit your lip and wanted to touch them.

"As bloodhounds, it's hard to find someone?"

He tracked your movements, fidgeting restlessly. He wanted to grab you, kiss you to know what your lips tasted like, and he wondered if you would still look so confident stuffed with his cock.

"We're not bloodhounds."

You raised your eyebrows, wandered your fingers over his palm, and rested his hand on your thigh.

"You work for my grandfather, you're my bodyguards.... He would never hire any men off the street. If you're not bloodhounds yet, you will be soon."

Woojin pressed his lips together, slowly closing his hand around your inner thigh, just centimeters from where you actually wanted to feel his long fingers. Sighing, you leaned forward a bit, placing a hand against his chest until he had a good view down your cleavage.

"What did he tell you to do? What are the rules?" you breathed, and Woojin increasingly lost his self-control. His hand closed tighter and tighter around your thigh and you could see him struggling with himself.

"Don't let you out of our sight. Protect you with our lives. No touching." he enumerated the rules Choi had drilled into them, and now he finally understood what Hyun-Ju had warned them about. When she talked about you being dangerous, cunning, and a temptation, he hadn't believed her. But now he could hardly stop himself from pushing you down on the couch and ripping your clothes off.

He wanted your sweet voice moaning his name and touching you everywhere he shouldn't.

You nodded slowly. Of course Choi had ordered them not messing around with you. He knew you and your charm too well. You had a temper. You were uncontrollable. Everyone was afraid and enraptured by you at the same time.

"What if I want to touch you?" you whispered in his ear and he sucked in a sharp breath.

Agonizingly slowly, you let your fingers travel down his stomach, to the waistband of his pants. Your lips brushed his jawline and his hand wandered up your leg. The temptation was too big and he struggled with himself.

"He'd kill us..." he whispered with the last bit of resistance he could muster.

He... Your grandfather knew you well enough to know that one stupid rule wouldn't stop you from asserting your stubbornness.

"What if I want you to touch me?," you continued, pressing your thighs together so he could feel the heat between them on his hand, trapped just finger-widths away from your cunt.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Instead, he furrowed his eyebrows in agony, and you wanted to fall to your knees to see if he looked as stunned when you took his dick into your mouth.

But before you could slide your fingers into his waistband, you stood up and left him sitting there, dumbfounded.

Gasping, he also pressed his hand between his legs as you disappeared into the house. It was a game for you and you were the master at it. Like chess. You were the queen. The boxers were your pawns, the pawns with which you passed your time, and both had to admit that they liked it more and more to walk for you on the board.

You retreated to your room for the rest of the day, until in the evening you resigned yourself to not getting out of here anytime soon.

The next few days your games became more and more dangerous and both Gunwoo and Woojin expected you to lose their mind every time you came into the room in skimpy pants, a dress that barely covered your breasts or skirts that showed glimpses of your underwear.

You made the time in the villa so much more interesting and they caught each other raving about you, losing themselves in mind games, only to be jilted in the end.

The danger surrounded you like the smoke of a cigarette and yet it was so seductive that Gunwoo did take a peek through the crack of the open door of the bathroom when you went to shower. He hated himself for it, but his curiosity and dirty desire to see more, to not always be kept at a distance, overwhelmed him.

He opened the bathroom door just enough to peek and catch you slipping out of your clothes.

He saw through the crack how you took off your skirt, threw away your top and looked at yourself in the mirror only in your underwear. He felt disgusting, but the line of your thighs as they merged into the perfect curve of your ass made him pause until you took off your underwear too. The way your tits spilled out of your bra when you undid the clasp made his cock hard in an instant and only when you turned on the water in the shower and faced the door did he tear his eyes open in shock and twirled away, pressing his back against the wall next to the door and gritting his teeth so hard his jaw ached. Gunwoo never been more thirsty in his life. Although he should just leave, he risked one more look. Just one last one. He wanted to suck on your skin, let his tongue lap up the water that dripped from your nipples, trickled down your calves. Your back is sexier than he realized, the slope of your spine incredibly pleasing to the eye, especially as you began to lather up your soft skin with the shower gel.

His pants were uncomfortably tight and he wanted to slap himself.

As soon as you walked past his room, wrapped in steam with only a towel around your body, a soft sound made you freeze.

The strained gasp came from the boys' room and you dared to look through the crack of the open door, which had hastily not been closed properly.

You recognized Gunwoo's broad back on the bed, muscles straining to him jerking his cock off, sighing your name. Your lip twitching up as fast as you clenched your legs together.

Another time you tried to take a cup from the top shelves in the kitchen. However, you were too short and the modern cabinets were placed way too far up. When Woojin saw this, he came to you, stood behind you and enveloped you in a shadow as if a tree had grown out of the ground right behind you.

He took out the cup and held it out to you, but you made no move to take it. You glanced coquettishly over your shoulder, leaned back a little until your ass was pressed firmly against his crotch and said:

"Thank you. Very thoughtful."

Immediately all color drained from his face and he grabbed your hip with his other hand to prevent you from making his dick even harder by wiggling your butt.

"It's all right," he dismissed it and wanted to flee, away from your seductive body and mesmerizing eyes.

But you turned, looked up at him through those long lashes you could swat flies with, and smiled sweetly:

"What do you think of the top? It's new, but I'm unsure if the color suits me."

Although you looked innocent, everything in him screamed trap! Still, he dropped his gaze and took a rattling breath as he clearly saw the curve of your breasts through the thin, almost transparent lilac material nestling to your body and your nipples forming little mounds on the fabric.

"It's pretty. Very pretty..." he stammered, trying to resist the urge to push the stupid thing up and hold your breasts in his hands.

He had big hands and they would fit perfectly.

As soon as the heat made him hard again, he watched you go, teeth gritting and jaw flexing as he lusted over how smoothly you walked away. You had to know you drove him crazy, that you were so beautiful and just out of reach that it made him want to crush the mug in his hand. Before Gunwoo could ask him, if he wanted to help him work out, he disappeared into the bathroom, with the excuse that he still had to shower.

Instead, he tried to get rid of his hard-on by ignoring it or even silently praying for it. But when he made the mistake of looking through the window, which offered a direct view of the pool and the loungers in front of it, an incredulous sigh escaped him.

You were just lying down in the sun, in the top and short skirt that accentuated your long legs. With big sunglasses on your nose, you tied your hair in a bun and to his horror, you unceremoniously pulled your top over your head. Your breasts in the bright sunlight looked soft and Woojin couldn't look away. As if caught in a curse, he stared at your body as you made yourself comfortable on the lounger, slipping out of your skirt and tanning only in black panties.

A wave of heat flashed in his gut, one that told him he was doing something wrong, that he should look away. He wasn't a pervert who secretly stalked women, though it was really hard not to look at you when you were prancing around in front of their noses all day. He shook his head, looked at himself in the mirror and mumbled a few curses. Fresh, hot blood flowed straight between his legs, made his dick thump against his lower stomach, the flushed tip peeking out of the waistband of his boxers.

Then he looked out again, eyeing the lines of your thighs as they converged between your legs, and as he pulled his now rock-hard dick out of his shorts, he tried to block out the accusing voice in his head.

Your skin glowed like the skin of a peach and he wondered if the tan-lines were as lighter where the panties were as they were around your breasts.

He wanted to touch your nipples, no he was so desperate, he wanted to take them in his mouth, suck on them and kiss you until you begged for him to fuck you. The fat of your boobs looked so soft, plush, and he imagined the weight of one in his palm as he started to stroke his cock. The sight of you naked and unaware made his head go fuzzy, garnet eyes glazing over as he shoved his boxers into the floor and kicked them away.

His cock laid heavy and demanding in his hand as he palmed himself to the sinful thoughts.

He sped up, imagining you kneeling on all fours in front of him and him slamming into you from behind, your pussy sucking him in, gripping him way better than his hand could. The naughty fantasies played like movies in his head and didn't let him go anytime soon. He gasped overwhelmed, imagining your naked body under his, stretched out just for his satisfaction. When you turned onto your stomach, he had to brace himself against the wall, panting. He had been plagued by images of you since day one, as if trying to burn the curves of your naked body into his memory. He loved how round your ass looked like this, how the length of your thighs begged for his hands to reach into each one. His fingers longed to feel soft skin between them, to sink into flesh and pull you back against him. His orgasm felt dirty, sultry, a long strand of ecstasy pulled from his cock and dripped onto his hand, splattered on the windowsill.

He cleaned it all up, put his pants back on, and tried to forget what he had done.

Meanwhile, you slid the sunglasses on your head and smiled slightly as Woojin's curly head disappeared out the window.

You made life harder for the two of them with every hour that passed.

Always the treat in front of their eyes, but they didn't dare to grab it. Yet.

The boxers were way, way too curious about you since they entered the luxury villa. Not to mention it was still late summer, so they caught you making dinner or doing yoga in the tiniest shorts and prancing around with no bra, nipples always hard and tempting from the breeze of the air conditioner.

It was way too much fun for you, however, you also became impatient. All this was soon not enough.

It was already dark and the round lanterns in the garden bathed everything in a pleasant orange light. Together with the blue of the pool, it made a dreamlike contrast. Woojin and Gunwoo were sitting on the loungers and talking quietly, but when you appeared, the conversation stopped and they looked at you attentively.

As soon as you took off your bathrobe and stood in front of them in just a sinful piece of bikini, Woojin clawed at Gunwoo's leg. They examined every little movement you made, the way you cocked your hip, how you cupped one of your breasts as you turned to them while you got into the water.

"Do you want to just watch or join?" you asked, letting yourself slide into the deeper water. They looked at each other, puzzled, and Gunwoo said:

"I don't know if we're allowed to..."

"What if I drown? Don't you have to protect me from drowning? You can't do that from there."

They looked at each other, not sure what to do, and before you waited any longer, you poured a gush of water over the edge of the pool, hitting them both. Startled, they jumped up and you giggled as your attack left them dripping and soaked.

When they heard you cackle so gleefully, something playful entered their gaze.

"Are we going to let this pass?" asked Gunwoo and Woojin shook his head, coming to the edge of the pool, but before he realized, Gunwoo had seized the golden opportunity and pushed him into the water from behind.

Woojin, however, clung to his arm in a flash and pulled him along. Gunwoo frantically rowed his arms, but it was all to no avail as they hit the surface of the water next to you with a loud splash.

Drops of water splashed you completely wet and you held your hands in front of your face. When they resurfaced, Woojin coughed, Gunwoo rubbed his eyes, and you held a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter.

As Woojin tossed his hair out of his face, he fixed you and pulled his wet shirt over his head in one fluid motion. At the sight of his trained body, you raised your eyebrows slightly and bit your lower lip, however, as he walked up to you and muttered:

"Well now you're laughing!"

You tried to run away squealing. However, he caught you and splashed water on your face, though in the process he also hit Gunwoo, who also began to tussle with him. He tore off his shirt and threw it to the edge before grabbing Woojin and wrestling with him.

You were laughing like little kids, splashing water at each other, and you felt more free and like yourself than you had in years.

The sound of your bright, high-pitched laughter as Gunwoo dove between your legs, lifted you up and threw you into the water with a loud splash was like music to the boys' ears.

You wrestled for quite a while, holding each other, pulling your legs away and dunking each other under the water until you could take no more.

Your heart was light, the water pleasantly cool, and the boys' hands firm on your soft skin.

You finally landed between the two of them. Woojin had his arms wrapped around your belly, pressing you tightly to his chest, Gunwoo grabbed your wrists, pulled you to him and held you by the waist. You paused in the position, breathing heavily. You brushed a wet strand of hair out of your eyes and you suddenly realized how close you were. You looked up at Gunwoo, who had a sweet smile on his lips, Woojin's arms were tight against your stomach and you leaned against him. You shook your head, unable to tear your eyes away from him. The air was thick with an unspoken tension, and your heart raced in anticipation.

"Do you really want to fight us?" asked Gunwoo with a smirk, your skin tingling excitedly. Woojin tried not to look down too long at your ass pressed against his crotch and instead pinched your sides playfully.

"Maybe she has a chance," he said, and you tilted your head a little, like a curious cat.

"I think you can use those strong arms of yours to do plenty of other things with me," you replied, delighting in the stunned reactions. Gunwoo froze and looked a lot like one of those greek statues of a god and Woojin's grip on your hips tightened.

With a silky voice and seductive aura, you took Gunwoo's hands and slowly guided them up your sides.

"Or is that not what you want?" you asked, as if asking his opinion on his choice of ice cream.

Gunwoo could no longer take his eyes off your slender fingers guiding his hands along your curves.

"Or this?" you asked, placing his large hands on your breasts.

In parallel, an overwhelmed gasp escaped Woojin as you rubbed your ass harder against his crotch. His hands flew to your hips and he could think of nothing but the heat gathering between his legs, pressing against the soft curve of your ass.

Gunwoo cupped your breasts tentatively, but they felt too good, too perfect to let go. He wanted to get rid of your bikini, to feel them whole and complete.

Your words were like a spell that made the boxers take off completely:

"Or don't you want me?"

Gunwoo's eyes snapped back to your face and he looked almost panicked as he said:

"I want it! I want you!"

Woojin grinded your ass against his bulge and would have loved to pull your bikini bottoms down right then and there to thrust into you.

"We want all of it!" he added, and you smiled triumphantly.

It was so simple.

"Then take it."

Gunwoo gave Woojin a questioning look over your shoulder, he nodded curtly at him and by then he was already leaning down to you, pulling you closer by the face and kissing you tempestuous. Woojin began kissing your neck, continuing to rub his increasingly hard length against your soft skin.

The kiss was sunny, warm, full of desire and you melted, pressed between the two muscular men. Gunwoo began kneading your breasts, sighing into your mouth as the water seemed to boil around you.

As soon as he broke away from you, Woojin turned your head to the side by the chin and already his lips were pressing to yours as well. Sweet as honey, hot as fire and much more impetuous than Gunwoo.

He greedily pushed his tongue into your mouth, turning you over until your back bounced against Gunwoo and he could push his knee between your legs.

"Free her tits!" murmured Woojin, and his hands reached for your ass, kneaded your soft flesh until you gasped into his mouth. Directly you felt Gunwoo's fingers pull open the loops of your bikini and the top fell off of you. He tossed it aside and Woojin was finally able to touch what he had been dreaming about for nights. Directly he kissed down your neck, sucking on your skin until he reached your nipple and ran his tongue around.

You took Gunwoo's hand and placed it on your other breast as you leaned against him, sighing comfortably.

"So pretty for us," he murmured, twirling your nipple between his fingers while Woojin sucked on your other and groped your ass.

The water lapped around you and you felt detached, weightless.

Gunwoo's fingers wandered over the waistband of your bikini panties, hesitantly, as if weighing whether to cross that line. However, it was all too late now anyway.

"Touch me! Please go on!" you gasped, your fingers in Woojin's hair, working red marks into your skin.

Gunwoo's lips brushed your neck as he exhaled and slid his fingers into your bikini. He played with the little bundle of nerves, rubbing it until your knees went soft. You gasped, your lips swollen and your face enlightened with desire.

You looked into Woojin's eyes as you did so, and he was equally incredulous by the immense horniness. You stroked down his abs, over his crotch, and there he lifted you out of the water with ease.

"Woojin... What...?"

But you didn't get any further, because he was already carrying you onto the canapé, the cool air on your wet skin gave you goosebumps and when he leaned over you and kissed you wildly, you let out a loud gasp.

In Gunwoo's eyes, too, a fire burned in the meantime that could no longer be extinguished. Whimpering, you pressed your body against Woojin and the stormy kissing ended only when you both could no longer breathe. He tilted his head a bit and his hand wandered down your belly into your bikini bottoms where he stroked through your folds. His eyes lit up and a blush shot up your cheeks as he felt how wet you already were.

"Shit have you been this horny all this time?" he muttered, biting the crook of your neck, making you whimper softly. As he did so, he pressed his thumb flat against your clit. Quickly, you grabbed his wrist and held it ironclad so you didn't immediately come over his fingers.

"Don't act like I'm the only one.... I know you've been watching me," you replied, glaring piercingly at both of them. Gunwoo actually laughed softly and sat down next to you on the canapé, while Woojin knelt between your legs, the sun sparkling on his wet abs.

"Do you really think we haven't been thinking about fucking you since day one when you're always running around in those skimpy clothes, getting us hot and worked up obviously with pure intention?" he growled and started spreading wet kisses along your collarbone. Your head was already floating in the clouds, so you looked up to the star studded sky and when Gunwoo firmly kneaded one of your breasts, you let out a sigh:

"Oh God..."

"He won't be able to help you now," Woojin chuckled and that's when you felt him roll your bikini panties off your legs and toss them carelessly aside. Since he was kneeling between your legs you couldn't squeeze your thighs together and hide your soaked cunt from Woojin's intense gaze.

"Look at how wet she is!" he said with a grin at Gunwoo, pushing your knees even further apart. Gunwoo eased off your neck for a moment and stroked two fingers through your folds, collecting your wetness on his fingers and the smile on his lips turned your head. Gasping, you pushed through your back as he suddenly sank two fingers into you and began pumping them into you.

"Gunwoo... Oh... Fuck," you moaned as you clawed at his biceps and moved your hips against his hand.

"You like that, huh? My fingers deep in your pussy?" he murmured in a soft voice, as if he was talking to a puppy or a kitten.

Woojin watched as Gunwoo's fingers disappeared into your wet cunt, creating naughty wet sounds, while your whole body trembled and by now his cock was so stiff that he could hardly stand it anymore. Gunwoo suddenly pulled his fingers out of you so that you were forcibly thrown back into reality and could only watch as he pushed his fingers into his mouth and licked your wetness off of it.

"She tastes like candy," he gushed, and Woojin grew more impatient.

"I need to taste her so bad..." he growled, kneeling down in front of the canapé. Without further ado, he grabbed you by the hips and pulled you to the edge so that his face hovered in front of your exposed cunt.

When his tongue met your clit, your eyes were already rolling backwards and when he then also sank two fingers into your hole and pumped them into you at an unholy pace while sucking on your clit, you couldn't stop moaning his name. He ate you out as if his life depended on it and as your hand sped into his curls and you pulled on his strands, he growled into your pussy. Gunwoo meanwhile went to work on your breasts, taking your nipples in his mouth, sinking his teeth into your sensitive skin and groping your whole body with his big hands.

"You're god damn gorgeous," he grunted, sucking so hard on your neck that you trembled. You felt your high rolling in record fast and Woojin worked your throbbing pussy only more intensely. His tongue slid over your bundle of nerves and his fingers hit the spots that drove you crazy every time.

"Faster... Woojin please," you begged and the sound of his name spilling from your lips had his cock aching against the fabric of his way too tight boxers, shoulders aching as he hammered his fingers into your pussy even faster, almost hoping you'll break for him.

Gunwoo palmed himself through his shorts by now, as he was more than aware of the sounds of Woojin devouring your pussy and your naked body just stretched out and ready for them.

Your vision was blurry by now, but when you felt Gunwoo's hand in your hair you looked up at him.

"Are you our good girl, princess?" he asked in such a low voice that you could only nod breathlessly. All you could do was cry in gargled whimpers, writhing around as Woojin focused on sucking the life out of you, his hands now on your hips, holding you still.

"Then open your mouth suck my dick, like the little slut you are," he purred, kneeling beside you, pulling down his shorts and holding his massive cock in his hand. A strangled gasp escaped you as Gunwoo put the tip to your lips and spread precum on it. Overwhelmed, your eyelids fluttered as you licked his slit and he tangled one hand in your hair, slowly pushing his length into your mouth. As he nudged your throat, a gag escaped you, making him groan loudly. You braced yourself against his thighs as he began to rut into your mouth. He was so thick that you quickly stopped breathing. In addition, your whole body tensed as your orgasm threatened to wash over you. Desperately, you squinted your eyes as Woojin didn't let up. He noticed how your legs began to tremble around his head and sucked hard on your clit. your whimpers stuttering as he continued to suck, flicking his tongue against it before sucking again. You gripped the pad beneath you, shutting your eyes tight and moaning repeatedly around Gunwoos dick as Woojin devoured you. Gunwoo noticed it too and paused from his slow but deep thrusts into your throat, holding you by the hair, his tip still pressed tightly against your lips as you came whimpering loudly. He studied your expression closely, trapped in the cage of pleasure and pure bliss.

As you slowly came back down from your high, Woojin licked clean everything he had caused and looked up at Gunwoo.

"Fuck you have to taste her! Her pussy is addictive."

Woojin chuckled contently between your thighs, his fingers pulling your folds apart to show Gunwoo the way your juices dribbled out of your leaking hole. He teasingly blew a puff of air over your sopping cunt, enjoying the way you writhed beneath him.

Completely attuned to each other, they changed places while you swam on the edge of reality, unsure if you would ever forget the feeling if pleasure flashing through your veins like lightning. You had never come so hard and that had only been Woojin's finger and mouth.

Gunwoo took a seat between your legs, grabbed a handful of your ass and pulled you closer to the edge until his mouth met your pussy. Directly you saw stars and when his tongue penetrated you, his deep humming filled your body. Somehow you felt Woojin's mouth on your neck, nibbling on your skin, stroking your tits and you were closer to heaven than ever before.

An unintelligible mass of words, curses and their names escaped you as you pushed his face deeper into your cunt with one hand in his hair. His nose bumped against your clit as he licked deeper and deeper into your hole and the knot in your belly tightened burning.

That's when you felt a rougher grip in your hair than Gunwoo had before. When you looked up at Woojin, you already saw that he was holding his cock and palmed himself. It wasn't as thick as Gunwoos length, but longer and even now you didn't know how to survive it.

"Don't leave me out, open up for me baby!" he demanded and pressed his tip against your lips. You saw how you got him worked up and as he tilted his head, taking in the sight of your fucked out facial expression, even though they hadn't really done anything yet, he was sure not only to be satisfied with a blowjob today. He tapped at your lips with his angry red tip, his eyes wide with demand.

You couldn't help but obediently obeying like the good girl you were, you parted your lips for him, taking the tip of his cock with ease. With uneven whines of pleasure, you stuck your tongue out to lick up his length. Slobbering messily, you smeared a mixture of precum and spit all over your chin.

Woojin tangled his fingers into the strands of your hair, guiding your head, watching your lips stretched around his dick as he pushed himself down your throat.

Tears welled up in your eyes and the naughtiest sounds escaped you as he began to snap his hips against your face. Your slurping noises and stifled whimpers only seemed to spur Gunwoo on, as he gripped his hands tighter into the flesh of your thighs and sinked his whole face into your pussy, licking as deep as he could.

Woojin grunts, feeling you swallow around him. He liked the way your eyes clouded with tears, the way you looked at him with such urgency when you needed to breathe.

"I think she's about to cum," Woojin gasped between his deep thrusts into your throat, and Gunwoo hummed in response, continuing to penetrate you with his tongue.

"Gunwoo tongue-fucking you real good, huh?", Woojin pressed out and pushed you all the way onto his cock so that your nose bounced against his lower belly and the world around you blurred. Gunwoo meanwhile withdrawing his tongue from your pussy and spreading your lips to start sucking on your clit again, a scream ripping from your throat from how amazing he was making you feel, as Woojin roughly pulled you back by the hair in time and pulled his dick out of your mouth to look at your face as you crumbled beneath him. Gunwoos mouth and tongue still torturing you. You'd long accepted that you were going to have to just cum for them. It's something they made sure you understood from the beginning. You came not for your own pleasure but because they wanted to see it. Like hungry lions they were just waiting until they pushed you over the edge each time. Your high shook you and your eyes rolled back as Gunwoo obsessively pressed his mouth on your pussy again. Woojin watched with satisfaction as you recovered from your climax, continuing to hold you by the hair so as not to miss any detail of your flushed face.

When you were gradually able to think clearly again, your legs were still shaking and the boxers were looking at you with a gentle smile.

"Holy shit," you sighed, running your hands through your hair and looking Gunwoo in the eye as he climbed back up to you.

"Was that good?" he asked, though he could read the answer on your face and body.

"That was sick," you murmured, and that's when his lips crashed down on yours. You could taste yourself on him, his hands tight on your hips and your head fogged with lust and desire.

"You didn't think that was it, did you?" asked Woojin suddenly, after the boxers had exchanged a meaningful glance. Even if you saw clearly again, your head was still filled with absorbent cotton. Before you could inquire, Woojin grabbed you by the hips and threw you over his shoulder. Grumbling, you drummed on his back as he carried you into the mansion, Gunwoo close behind you.

"Put me down! I can walk myself!"

He didn't even seem to have a little trouble carrying you up the stairs, and when he just laughed throatily, you got all hot.

"Don't act like you don't like being bossed around. You were just fucking begging me to finger you faster," he said and your head glowed with shame and arousal. In truth, you had never experienced anything hotter than being used by the two of them and everything inside you was screaming to finally be fucked.

He carried you to his and Gunwoo's room, threw you on the kingsized bed and climbed between your legs to kiss you. Demandingly, he slid his tongue into your mouth without hesitation, grabbed your hips and rubbed his hard dick through the fabric of his shorts against your thigh.

You sighed softly and your cunt contracted demanding. You wanted to feel him, deep inside you even if his size was already scaring you.

Gunwoo closed the door behind you and sat down on the chair beside the bed, watching you intently. Woojin kissed the red marks he and his best friend had worked into your skin all over your neck and breasts, then looked at you.

"What do you want, princess? Tell us so we can make you feel good. We're here just for you."

His voice was rough with lust and you melted under the gaze of his gemstone eyes. He couldn't get enough of the sight of your soft skin, pleading eyes and legs spread over the bed. He looked at you through half hooded eyes.

"Oh yeah? You're selflessly dragging me into your bed?" you asked cheekily, wandering your fingers down his stomach until you slid them into his waistband. He smelled seductively woody and of honey, which immediately gummed up your mind. Worse than any alcohol.

Woojin grinned crookedly and put a hand around your neck to push you back onto the mattress. You could feel how impatient he was.

"Answer him!" sounded Gunwoo's voice, low and rough, and you shuddered.

It was enough to make you gulp and the heat between your legs pulsate.

"Fuck me. I want my bodyguards to fuck me until I can't walk," you whispered and immediately fire shot into Woojin's eyes. He looked to Gunwoo, whose dick was massive and powerful in his hand.

"You want to start?" he asked him, and you got goosebumps. Gunwoo shook his head and smiled gently:

"You start. I'll take her after you stretched her for me."

Woojin nodded with a dirty grin, looked down at you with an intimidating stare, and flipped you onto your stomach by your hips with lightning speed. With a gasp, you felt him grab your hips, pulling you toward him until you were propped up on your elbows and your ass was sticking up in the air in front of him.

With one hand he pushed your torso into the mattress, with the other he pulled off his boxers. Your body trembled when you felt his tip at your entrance. He covered it with your juices, letting it brush up and down between your folds, and his tip alone would stretch and ache you, you knew for sure. He wasn't as thick as Gunwoo, but he was longer and you'd never had such massive cocks before.

"Look at the little princess..." he said teasingly to Gunwoo as he continued to tease you with his tip at your entrance, rubbing along your clit.

"Ready and desperate for us to fuck her brains out."

He had wanted you like this since he saw you that morning, ass in the air as you did your early morning exercises. But now you were even hotter, pussy messy and dripping and already spread from his fingers. He had an urge to spank you, punish you a bit for being so dirty, for teasing him for so damn long, but his balls are so heavy with cum that he needed to pound into you, like he needed to breath.

"I'm trying not to break you," he growled, and that's when he started to penetrate you. You whimpered softly as he began to push his tip inside you.

Your face was pressed into the mattress and you could only look at Gunwoo, who was watching intently as Woojin sank inch by inch deeper into you. Your body trembled and your walls began to pulse painfully.

He dug his fingers into your hips so you couldn't get away and pushed his length incessantly into your aching hole. Directly your field of vision veiled as inch by inch he seemed to tear your insides apart, regardless of your whimpers and gasps.

You clawed at the bed sheet and just as he disappeared halfway inside you, he paused to sigh softly:

"Holy shit. Your so tight. The best pussy I ever felt..."

You managed to take a quick breath and adjust to his size as a naughty moan was ripped from you as he thrusted completely into you unannounced. Your widened eyes met Gunwoo's as he palmed his hard dick and watched you in overwhelm, moaning softly.

"Oh fuck... Woojin it's too big," you pressed out overwhelmed, between whimpering and gasping. Subdued, you moaned out, clawing your hands into the mattress until his thighs bumped against yours. You felt his balls pressed against your clit and he pulsed deep inside you. Then he leaned over you until his mouth hovered next to your ear. He kissed your shoulders reassuringly and murmured:

"Shh. I know baby girl. Take it like the little whore you are."

Your breath caught as he slid out of you and slammed into you again. This time faster as your arousal was already dripping out of your cunt and as soon as he started thrusting into you, your eyes rolled back.

"Fuck so good," he gasped and Gunwoo started moving his hand up and down his cock, turned on by the way his best friend was destroying you from behind.

Then he started moving his hips steadily, he gripped your hips tightly and after just a few thrusts you thought you were going to burst. Every movement electrified you and soon all you could hear was your moans, the slap of his hips against your ass and his low growl as he took you hard and deep from behind. He could feel the thick veins that ran along the length of his cock rubbing against your walls with every plunge, and knew you could feel them too. Your hands were already slipping against the sheets, searching for some kind of sanity to cling on to as he fucked you senseless. All the while, you watched Gunwoo who couldn't take his eyes off of you, and as you narrowed your eyes at your third orgasm, Woojin grabbed your hands and yanked them out from under you, leaving you fully at his mercy.

"Look at Gunwoo and show him how good I'm fucking you!" he panted, seeming to reach deeper with each thrust. He moved his hips roughly and quickly. By then he was holding your wrists with only one hand, reaching for your face with the other, bending over you and turning your head until your lips collided. He was starving, keeping your face in his iron grip so he could take what he wanted so bad. Your lips were soft but eager, following his movements, trying to keep up. It was sloppy, a clash of tongues and spit smearing across cheeks. But you tasted so good, felt so fucking good bouncing against him. He twisted one of your sensitive buds, thumb and forefinger plucking and pulling as you moaned all breathy and light.

He gasped and clawed his fingers into your hips so hard it hurt, but you were hardly aware of anything except the enormous bliss that mixed with the pain into a pleasant mass.

He filled you up completely, messed up your insides and with every thrust you were more on fire.

The room was filled with slapping skin, the wet sound of your cunt and your sinful noises. You were seeing stars by now and he was just stepping it up a notch, slamming into you like he was trying to win a race.

Your cheek rubbed against the sheets with each time and your mouth was open as his name rolled from your lips like a desperate prayer.

The knot in your stomach tightened firmly and you could see Gunwoo's heated gaze as he watched closely as Woojin's cock disappeared into your tight hole and penetrated it.

Your back ached and Woojin was sure he had never seen anything more beautiful than your cockdrunk face, your body bent just for him and your ass slapping steadily against his hips.

"How does she feel?" asked Gunwoo, sliding his hand along his dick, edging himself.

"Incredible. So wet... So tight. Fuck she's crushing me," he gasped between thrusts, letting his hips snap deep inside you several times, hitting the sensitive spot each time, sending you into a different atmosphere.

With your hands behind your back and Woojins cock squeezed at your tense walls, he snapped his hips hard against yours a few more times before his movement became chaotic and sloppy.

By now your arousal was flowing down your thighs and had he not held you upright by your arms, you would have simply collapsed while the orgasm almost overtook you like an avalanche. The world was enveloped in a glistening white light and Woojin pushed you over the edge as you moaned his name so sinfully that he would probably never forget it. He felt your walls tighten around him and your body spasmed.

"It's okay baby girl! Come around my cock! Let me fill you up," he moaned and that's when the knot in your belly snapped into white glowing hot pleasure. You screamed, your next orgasm explosive your eyes rolling so hard it hurt, your entire body shivering as you tried to handle the pleasure.

Your orgasm made your entire body tremble and the expression on your face, pressed against the bed sheet, your eyebrows drawn together accusingly and your features contorted with desire, that's when Woojin came too.

With a loud grunt he came deep inside you, but he didn't stop, not even as thick ropes of hot cum filled your already gushing pussy and spurting out onto his stomach, onto your thighs. He was unrelenting, keeping you both within the throes of orgasmic bliss with his cock plunging inside of you over and over again. His hot cum mixed with your juices and spilled out of your cunt as soon as he pulled out. The sight made Gunwoo clench his teeth. Sweat stood on Woojin's forehead and he looked at what he did with satisfaction.

Taken completely by surprise, you stayed flat on the bed, trying to calm your breathing, but the orgasm left you drained and shaking, your eyelids fluttering and your fucked out face. It was a glorious view and he gently turned you over onto your back, brushed your hair out of your face and kissed your lips with so much affection that you felt quite comfortable.

"Are you all right?" he asked, kissing your neck, stroking your sides and calming you.

You nodded weakly and gradually you came back to reality. Gunwoo stood beside the bed, his throbbing cock heavy in his hand, and your body immediately responded by letting the arousal run between your legs again.

"Do you think you can really take both of us?" he asked challengingly and the mocking grin on his lips, made the pride and lust return.

"Of course..." you said, and Woojin tilted his head a little, his eyes shining energetically, and he grazed your neck with his lips.

"So you want Gunwoo to fuck you too?"

Quickly you nodded and looked at Gunwoo, who looked impatient.

"Such a good girl...", Woojin purred and stepped back to make room for Gunwoo, who was lunging over you as he did at noon today, spreading almost innocent kisses along your jaw. You felt his tip at your entrance and your body responded without you being able to do anything about it.

You wrapped your legs around his hips and there he pressed his tip into your aching hole. "Fuck, I guess we're wrecking her tonight?", Gunwoo chuckled , biting his lip at the sight of your pussy spread so wide open for him.

As he stretched you open, the initial thrust inside is slow and sharp. He smelled pleasantly sweet of fresh strawberries and cinnamon, which immediately got you hooked. He was big, shifting his hips slowly for you to take it all in. He intercepted your moans with kisses until you were moaning into his mouth, fingers clutched tightly in his back and barely able to perceive the world around you anymore. He moved his hips fluidly, almost artistically, finding the sensitive spots that made you fly every time. There he worked it down your body again. His eager, hot mouth enveloping one of your nipples and sucking. His tongue flattens, nibbling on your heated skin and swirling around your nipples, fast and rough until you were whining, your cries came with every thrust. You were the perfect picture, everything even more incredible than either of them had ever tried to visualize. He felt unlike anyone you had ever been with. Beside his kind nature there was a sadistic edge to his slowness, dragging each stroke as if he wanted to slide over every nerve in the tight depth of your cunt. Your body was out of your control by now, the coil in your belly so tense that you feared fainting with the next orgasm, while your brain was just mush.

"Gunwoo, you're gonna fucking break me!", you sighed and moving your hips against his, without a chance of resistance.

His muscles under your skin felt warm and protective. You sucked him right in, all tight and warm, gummy walls spreading to fit snugly around him. Your moan was swallowed down his throat as he pressed his mouth to yours again, brutal and quick. But somehow sweet and intense.

"Don't act all surprised, you wanted this. You were the one driving us crazy all along," Woojin said from his place on the chair where he watched you two fucking tightly entwined.

He was right. You wanted this, but you never thought that both of them were so good in bed and fucked your mind out with ease. Gunwoo smiled and his breath bounced against your lips as he held your hips as your body's were completely melted into each other. He lifted your hips a little with both hands to sink even deeper. Directly your eyes rolled back and only incoherent sounds passed your lips anymore. Enchanted by your beauty, the warmth of your cunt and your body that he never wanted to let go of, he pressed his lips hard on yours again as he felt your body trembling beneath him and your fingernails digging deeper into his back.

You gasped into his mouth, unconsciously raising your leg up to wrap around his waist tighter as he supported you with his arm, your fingernails clawing at his shoulders as you felt yourself reach your climax, the coil in your tummy snapping.

"Fuck she's crushing me," he moaned, coming deep inside you moments later. Overwhelmed, your breath went rattling and you tried to gasp, clutching tightly. You didn't know if minutes or hours had passed as Gunwoo rolled off you and stared at the ceiling, breathing heavily. You could not yet comprehend what had just happened. Only when Woojin slipped into bed next to you and pulled you in by the waist until your back was pressed tightly against his chest did your pulse gradually calm down. It was pitch dark outside and their bed seemed more comfortable than your own right now. Gunwoo moved close to you so that you could lay your head on his chest and feel his heartbeat with your hand. So you fell asleep tightly embraced, exhausted and overwhelmed. You felt safe and secure. A Feeling that you had been missing for a very long time and that was all the more beautiful now that you perceived it again.

You fell into a dreamless deep sleep and when you opened your eyes the next morning, it took you an eternity to realize that the ringing noise did not come from you imagination. Sighing, you felt Woojin's arm wrapped tightly around your waist, his face buried in the crook of your neck, and Gunwoo was also still fast asleep, one hand on your hip.

The events of last night were burned into your memories like brands and you would probably feel the traces of that night for days to come. But then the front doorbell rang again and finally even the boxers slowly woke up grumbling.

You managed to free yourself from Woojin's grasp and push Gunwoo's massive arm aside to slip out of bed. Quickly grabbing your robe from your room, you sleepily hurried down the stairs as the doorbell continued to ring.

"Yes, yes! I'm coming!" you called out, and when you saw your sister on the display outside the door, you breathed a sigh of relief.

As soon as you opened the door, she was already rushing in.

"You're not awake yet?" she asked incredulously, heading straight for the kitchen to make herself some coffee.

In fact, it was unusual for you not to be up at this hour. You were an early riser, always full of energy. But after last night, you were glad to be able to walk upright. Hyun-Ju turned to you and leaned against the kitchen counter. She looked around the apartment in wonder.

"Where are your bodyguards?" she asked curiously, and you automatically pulled your robe tighter around your body.

"They're still asleep."

Suspiciously, she looked at you properly for the first time. There from second to second the questioning look turned to recognition then to disbelief.

"What's that on your neck?" she snapped, and you jerked back a step as she tried to touch a spot the boxers left on your neck with her finger.

"Nothing!" it escaped you too panicked, too quickly. She furrowed her eyebrows and grabbed your robe, pulling it down a bit. Her eyes went wide and her mouth was open in bewilderment.

"Holy shit!"

Directly you slapped her hand away and took her now full coffee cup to drink it yourself.

"Which one did you lure into your bed?" she asked directly and you tried to hide your grin by taking a big gulp from the coffee mug.

Because you couldn't answer without grinning like an idiot, she scrunched her nos in disbelief.

Slowly she began to realize it. She could always read your thoughts on your face.

"Don't tell me you have...", but she didn't get any further, because now Gunwoo and Woojin also came strolling down the stairs. Their hair messed up, yawning and Gunwoo wearing sweatpants while Woojin was only in his boxershorts. When they saw you they greeted curtly and Hyun-Ju could almost grab the smell of sex in the air as they smiled amusedly at you as you passed.

"Good morning Hyun-Ju. Boss," Woojin said, and Gunwoo pressed his lips together to avoid looking too guilty. But Woojin's satisfied look in your direction was enough to prove what was obvious anyway. The hickeys on your neck, your hair all messed up and the tiredness on your faces was proof enough. She even got a good view of the scratches all over Gunwoos back, as he walked out of the door.

As they sat down with their coffee outside, your sister whirled back around to face you.

"Both of them? All at once?" she hissed and you laughed softly.

"You're unbelievable..." she exhaled heavily, shaking her head. The two of you looked out onto the terrace where the two boxers were chatting, offering a picture like something out of an erotic novel. Upper bodies exposed, muscles glistening in the sun and hair a mess from sleep.

"For not wanting them, you like your bodyguards quite a bit now, don't you? I must admit they are quite pretty toys" sighed Hyun-Ju, and you cleared your throat with rosy cheeks.

"Maybe. Just don't tell Grandpa... Otherwise, he'll take them away from me."

When your eyes met, you grinned like an idiot and you two couldn't help but snorting with laughter at that.

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#bloodhounds kdrama #bloodhounds smut #bloodhoundsfanfic #bloodhounds #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #smut #woojin #woojin x reader #gunwoo fanfic #bodyguard x reader #kdrama netflix #kdrama #gunwoo x reader #lee sang yi

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pileofmush · 20 days

Text

you don't know what i deserve .·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·.

ft. okkotsu yuuta

it’s 1 a.m. on the fifteenth of February and there’s a corpse on your kitchen floor. still fresh: odorless and warm to the touch. you're on your own—just you and the dead body.

info : ̗̀➛ tags: gn!reader, neighbor au, strangers to lovers, yuuta & reader are a little strange, happy ending // cw: death, light angst, vulgar language, canon-typical violence...but pretty mild imo

thoughts : ̗̀➛ helllooo. back on my bullshit. let's call this a very belated birthday present to my beloved <3 // read this on ao3

wc : ̗̀➛ 5.1k

The human body contains a shit ton of blood.

Which is not something you think about often, but now you are forced to confront this fact in real-time. People… have a lot of blood.

And it stains. No matter how many times you wash your hands. There are still flakes of blood wedged underneath your fingernails. Part of you thinks it'll never go away.

...And then there's Sailor Moon.

“I am the pretty guardian who fights for love and justice! I am Sailor Moon! And now, in the name of the moon, I’ll punish you!”

Cue trumpets and flashy poses; the makings of a battle. Your comfort anime blares in the background of a morbid scene, the flickering TV casting a soft glow on a sight that will inevitably haunt your nightmares.

Because it's 1 a.m. on the fifteenth of February and there’s a corpse on your kitchen floor. Still fresh: odorless and warm to the touch. You pace in your tiny living room, unsure of what to do, of how to proceed. The pretty Sailor Guardians won’t save you now. You’re on your own. Just you and the dead body.

How romantic.

The chill from outside has swept into your apartment thanks to that annoying fucking prick who left your window open. Honestly, people these days have no decency. The least he could’ve done was close your shutters after tumbling through your bedroom window like a deranged acrobat. Now you’re, like, moderately cold.

“What a fucking mess,” you sigh.

Blood seeps into the earthy Persian rug that you got for half-price at a flea market a few months ago. It’s dark; puddling, like... like a knocked-over glass of chocolate milk, spilled all over the kitchen table. Or, maybe chocolate syrup would be more apt. It doesn’t matter, though. You can always get a new rug. You know, if you make it out of this situation of yours intact and not in a dingy prison cell for homicide.

Hmm. You might be sorta kinda screwed.

The police, of course, are out of the question. No matter your side of the story, it wouldn’t hold up in trial. No, no, no. A foreigner murdering a Japanese citizen? Even if it was in self-defense, it wouldn’t matter. Forget prison—you’ll probably be hanged.

So, you could run… But you probably wouldn’t get far. Or, you could do what every naive murderer in the movie about karmic retribution does and try your darnedest to get away with it.

“Option two it is!” you quit pacing and announce to the room. Thankfully, the body doesn’t respond.

A weak knock at the door sounds off—a gunshot. Your heart stalls, your head snapping to the entrance of the apartment. Who the hell is at your door? The person at the door knocks a second time, a little bit more insistently, and you start to sweat. “Hello, is everything alright? I—I heard a scream.”

You step up to the peephole and squint. A mild-looking man shuffles his feet outside your door. It’s your next-door neighbor, bathed in the ugly yellow lighting of your apartment complex. He smiles like he knows that you can see him.

This… isn’t ideal. You could choose to not answer him, but that probably wouldn’t work. What if he called the police? You take a breath. “Everything’s fine,” you call out.

The man’s smile freezes in place, somehow more eerie than a frown; his hands burrow deeper into his pockets. “Oh!” he says. “Are… Are you sure?”

You turn away from the peephole, a little unnerved. “Yeah, why?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to intrude, but I heard a lot more than a single scream.”

A slow, dreadful feeling starts to seep into your gut. “Pardon?”

There’s a pause. You swallow.

“These walls are thin.”

Fuck. He knows. Oh God, he knows.

No—that’s impossible. You were the only one to scream. Yasuhiro… He didn’t get the chance to. So this is just a concerned neighbor checking in on you. Nothing more, nothing less. You can prove it, prove that you’re okay.

You open the door a smidge so that you can peek through, then step outside and shut the door behind you. Your neighbor, what’s his name again? Okkotsu, right? Okkotsu’s brows lift at the sight of you, then relax. He’s wearing a plain white tee and a pair of grey sweats that should probably be criminal in Japan. His eyes flicker up and down your frame. You suppress a shiver.

“Just a horror movie,” you broach, offering him a polite smile. “I’m an easy fright.”

Okkotsu pulls a hand out of his pocket to awkwardly rub the back of his neck. His gentle smile has dimmed. “I’m not sure I believe you,” he says in an apologetic tone.

You both notice the tremor that runs through your body. Nosy fucking neighbors and their lack of sense when it comes to minding their own business. You stare mulishly at the floor. His shoes are simple. Black; scuffed. His left foot taps once against the floor. Whatever. You don't have to answer to him. Gathering up your resolve, you start to speak. “Listen, Okkotsu-san,” you say but are cut off quickly.

“Is that blood?”

That makes you freeze, eyes glued to the floor. A cold set of fingers dips under your chin and gently lifts it. Your gaze meets his: two pools of an endless, starless night. It flickers to a spot beside your ear knowingly and you reach for it.

He’s right. Blood sticks to your fingers, not yet dry. Lurking in the crevice behind your ear. You missed a spot.

“Well spotted.” It’s fruitless to lie now. You know it, he knows it. Now it’s a matter of who’ll crack first.

“Are you… Are you injured?”

Physically? No. Psychiatrically? Well, you just murdered a man, so.

“I’m unharmed.”

Okkotsu blinks owlishly. “Is that so?” He murmurs curiously, tilting your head to the side to observe the blood staining your skin.

You readjust your head and mimic him, blinking slowly. “Okkotsu—”

“Yuuta,” he interrupts.

You blink again. For such a mild, polite-seeming boy, he really is quite rude. And confusing. And terrifying. And you kinda sort of want him to die. “Okkotsu-san” you repeat. “I think it’s best if you leave.”

Okkotsu Yuuta’s smile returns, and it’s dangerously innocuous. He breathes your name out like a question. Starless eyes wander to your front door, then go back to studying your own. “Can I come inside?” he asks, quietly.

Everything stills, even your heart. You’re not quite certain you’re alive, when you ask, dubiously, “The apartment?”

Okkotsu just smiles.

You let Okkotsu come inside.

Which is absolutely fucking insane, but you have a feeling that your neighbor’s worse off than you are, and that’s truly saying something.

You hear him lock the door behind you before you start. Silently, you lead him past your living room, past Tsukino Usagi flying down the sidewalk on the way to school—the start of another episode, then—past your browning house plant hanging from the ceiling, into your quaint kitchen.

It’s nothing special. A small green stove with two bunsen burners on top. A sink; limited counter space. A couple of peeling cabinets. Tied in together with a white backsplash, shifting colors with each flicker of the TV. To the side, a small table sits, with two mismatched chairs tucked into it.

Oh, and there’s the dead body, too. Practically dribbling blood, painting your discounted rug muddy red and the surrounding blue tile purple.

Okkotsu lets out a soft sigh. “What a mess.”

You consider him from the corner of your eye. “That’s what I said,” you frown.

He shrugs, still looking at poor, dead, Yasuhiro. “Well, it’s true, isn’t it?”

Yeaaaah. It’s true.

A giggle escapes you, the reality of the situation finally hitting you. “Fuck,” you whisper in between the giggles. “I’m fucked.” It’s true. Utterly and thoroughly—no condom used.

“Not yet,” you barely hear him say over the fracturing of your composure. This is impossible. You killed a man tonight, then showed a stranger the corpse. You’re an idiot. You’re a freak. You can’t hide a dead body. You really might as well bend over and get it over with. Fuck.

Hands gripping your knees, you struggle to catch your breath. When did you lose it? Ah, who cares? Dead. You’re dead. The noose is looped around your hollowed throat, tightening by the second. Perhaps there’ll be two corpses on your kitchen floor by the time the sun is up. Perhaps you should’ve just let him kill—

“Breathe with me,” Okkotsu mutters, right in front of you, long hands gingerly clutching your shoulders. Which is strange. You had no idea he got so close. His thumbs swipe up and down, around and around, and you are flummoxed. But Okkotsu is patient, his chest compressing and expanding with each measured breath, and you are compelled to follow him. Slowly, you come down from your panicked high. You let out a shaky breath, eyes sliding back to the imposing guest in your apartment. The other imposing guest in your apartment.

The body in front of you lays eerily still, impervious to your mini breakdown. It’s not purple, or rotting, or excreting out the last remaining fluids left in its underwhelming husk. It’s just—laying there. Laying, not lying, because it is no longer a breathing thing that rests; now an object to be placed. Dehumanized, in every way. Then again, what is dehumanization if not just another word for murder? What is murder, if not just the taking away of a person’s autonomy? Dead bodies can’t rest. It will never lie again.

The dead body lays.

And you wonder for how much longer you’ll keep your own autonomy.

When do the dead start to attract flies? Realistically, you know it can range from a day to a few days for a decomposing body to become…obscene, depending on the environmental conditions. It hasn’t even been a few hours. You doubt flies will start buzzing around any time soon. If you move to crouch down and touch it, it’ll probably still be warm.

The swipe of a thumb over your shoulder brings your awareness back to your neighbor.

“Why are you helping me?” You ask, wiping the tears that have beaded up in the corners of your eyes. Your breathing is steadier now, but you’re still trembling. That damn window is still open.

The hands on your shoulders release, and you look up to gauge his thoughts. He’s frowning. His eyes cloud, then sharpen: lightning against a black sky. “You need to get rid of the body, don’t you?” It’s a rhetorical question, but you nod anyway.

“Then we’ll figure it out. Don’t worry. I bet we’ll be done before dawn.”

He makes to walk away but you stay rooted to your spot, trying to figure out why this strange, strange neighbor of yours who makes friends with stray cats and tends to the apartment garden is willing to become an accomplice of murder for you.

“Okkotsu, are… Are you in love with me or something?”

Your neighbor stops, then snorts, and it sends a shiver down your spine. He turns back to face you. A soft pout lies on his lips as he skillfully evades your question with a request of his own. “Hey, if you’re gonna ask me something like that, why don’t you use my name next time?”

You don’t ask again.

You have far bigger problems than interrogating Okkotsu Yuuta, so you push it aside and stalk toward the body. Okkotsu joins you, and the two of you peer at the deceased man before you. It’s… Still. The blood has stopped its puddling; a thin line stretches the column of its throat. His throat was slit neatly, gracefully, like an act of love. It wasn’t one, but, maybe you gave Yasuhiro what he wanted, in a terrible, twisted way. How magnanimous of you.

Yasuhiro wasn’t an attractive man. Limp brown hair framing a slightly uglier-than-average face. At least he had the decency to close his eyes before his last, dying breath. They were blood-shot and wiry, the last time you saw them open. Bouncing haphazardly in its sockets like they couldn’t discern which corner of the room you stood in.

Okkotsu perks up at the sound of your harrumph. “What?” he questions you, and you slide your eyes over to him. Okkotsu Yuuta is distinctly pale, a trait that you’ve always noticed and have always sort of admired on him. It suits the subdued, yet haunted look he’s got going on. Black lashes feather the whites of his eyes, as well as the endless void of his irises. Yeah, he’s almost doll-like, in that gentle, haunting way of his.

“You’re creepier than the corpse,” you tell him instead and turn away, just barely hiding your smile. The laugh that rings out from him sounds like nails grating on a chalkboard.

Just kidding. It actually sounds kind of sweet.

Okkotsu follows you to the bathroom, where you’ve grabbed pretty much all of your cleaning supplies. You stuff them in a bucket and he hauls it out of your arms, the two of you shuffling back to the kitchen.

“So how should we go about this?” You muse, staring at the body. The movies you’ve seen are the only reference you have for the disposal of dead bodies, but those usually end with the killer getting caught, so you’re not so sure about mimicking their methods.

“I’m not sure,” Okkotsu says, tilting his head in thought. “Severing his limbs without the proper tools would be difficult. I guess we could carry him and bury him somewhere unassuming—unless you have a car that we could use?” A quick glance at you confirms that you don’t. He rubs his chin, nodding to himself. “Right. A garden cart will do, then. We should check to see if he has any identifiers on him, first, though. Oh, and we can’t forget about the teeth. Do you have any pliers?” He turns to you casually, eyes widening at the sight of your awe.

Thin black brows furrow in confusion. “What?” He asks.

You blink. “Have you…ever…?” Your voice dies in your throat.

Thankfully, he gets it. “Oh. No! No, I’ve never murdered a person,” he denies, dipping his head and tugging the neckline of his plain white tee. A curious look crosses his face. “But I could,” he tacks on cautiously.

You hug your arms and give a half-assed shrug. You can almost feel the weight of a kitchen knife in your dominant hand; the quick, fluid motion of ending a life.

“Anyone could,” you acquiesce, dismissing the conversation. Okkotsu hums mournfully in return.

According to his ID, Yasuhiro Souta is a twenty-seven-year-old male who lives in Chiba. What he was doing tumbling through your window in the middle of the night is anyone’s guess. Well, he did tell you, sort of shakily before he made to lunge at you, that you were supposedly his Valentine for the night. How sweet!

Snip. You met him for the first time a little over two months ago. He dropped his wallet on the train, so you picked it up and handed it to him in a silly attempt to be a decent person. It resulted in the man refusing to let go of your hand for a solid five minutes. Yes, yes, what an adorable meet-cute! Snip. When you managed to pry your clammy hands out of his vice-like grip, it was your stop, and, oh, how fortuitous, it was Yasuhiro’s as well! He followed you off the train into a random coffee shop, and it was only when you got the help of the employees that he backed off, the doorbell chiming as the glass door swung behind his back. Snip.

You thought that was the end of it, and proceeded about your day, running errands for a few hours until you retreated home. It shook you up for a little, yes, but it was nothing too crazy. You doubted you’d ever see him again.

Snip.

You slice Yasuhiro’s ID with your scissors until it’s a pile of ashes.

Okkotsu’s on his knees, holding a pair of pliers to the light. Wedged between the metal lies a crooked tooth. He hums to himself, plopping the tooth in a ziplock bag. He wears a pair of green garden gloves he grabbed from his apartment; you’re wearing a matching set. The rubber’s a little too big for you, but you’re making it work.

It's as Okkotsu calmly adjusts the head in his lap, preparing to yank another tooth that you stare at your strange partner, wondering how in the hell you got yourself into this situation. It’s been happening every so often: your acceptance of reality swinging in the opposite direction like the pendulum on a grandfather clock.

You shouldn’t have killed him.

You don’t care for Yasuhiro Souta’s life. You don’t care for the man who intended to assault you. But there’s not a chance in hell that this won’t get traced back to you.

You're fucked.

Why did it have to be like this? Why do bad things happen to good people?

That’s the way the cookie crumbles, darling.

And you crumble—crumbled—are crumbling when you turn to your neighbor. “Okkotsu-san,” you say, picking at your dirty nails.

“Yuuta,” the man insists. What a freak. He's a freak, and he's good, and you don't deserve it.

You take a deep breath, mulling over your doomed fate. It doesn’t have to be his, too. “You should get out of here. While you still can.”

There's an awkward pause. The strange man pulls out another tooth and plops it in the baggy. “There,” he says warmly, then draws to his full height. “Do you have a coffee maker?” You ball your fists around the plastic handle in your hands. Calm, calm, stay calm. “Did you hear what I just said?” You ask.

“Oh, I did,” Okkotsu hums. “I chose to ignore it.”

Your hands begin to shake as you repeat his words. “Ch—Chose to—”

Okkotsu says your name pityingly. “I thought we already had this conversation," he questions with pinched brows. “Why are we—”

“We?!” You interrupt, incensed. We. It's as if the curtains have been drawn open, allowing the rays of the illuminating, scorching sun to trickle through. It blinds you, and you have the urge to pull your eyes out and shove them down his throat. “You thought we? Who are you? You don’t know a damn thing about me!”

“I think I know a few things about you,” Okkotsu smiles sweetly, gesturing to the dead body in your apartment.

“Do you, now?” You laugh and toss your hands up to the ceiling. “Great! I have an idea!" You glare, the metal edge of your scissors catching the light. "If you know what I’m capable of, then you should get the hell out."

A pause. You pant, more worked up than have been all night and it's fucking ridiculous and you hate it. You want to choke—you want him to choke. On your blood-soaked fingers, preferably. He'd probably lick them clean.

Unaware of your depraved thoughts, Okkotsu’s lips pull into a frown. He sighs, running a ghostly hand through his hair.

“I’m not scared of you,” he tells you, quietly.

You hold your breath. “Maybe you should be.”

Your insufferable neighbor takes a step forward, that stupid frown still on his stupid doll face. “What’s your plan?” He prompts. “Do you intend to confess? To go to prison?” You shake your head slowly and he softens. “You don’t deserve that,” he says, like he really means it.

Why did you let this man into your house? Why is he offering you hope? It’s too much. The scissors slide out of all your fingers save for one; your limbs sag with a weariness that’s settled deep in your bones.

“You don’t know what I deserve.”

Okkotsu stops and considers you. Your chest heaves, your heart pounds, and you want out. You want out, and he can get out, and you don’t know… You don’t know why…

“If you want me to judge you, I won’t,” says Okkotsu.

You shake your head at his dismissal, your eyes squeezed shut. “I can’t judge you,” he continues, and there goes his cold, calloused hand again, gingerly tilting your chin upwards. The pair of scissors in your clutches drops fruitlessly to the floor. When you look up, there’s something like pleading in his endless, starless eyes. “Trust me,” he begs.

You shouldn’t. You know it with every fiber of your being that you should not trust Okkotsu Yuuta. The man who blinks like an owl and stares at you like you’re a mouse he can’t wait to swallow whole. Who blushes pink whenever you hold the elevator door for him. Who has cold fingers that cradle you so gingerly—who touches you like he knows you—who doesn’t cringe at the sight of dead bodies but gives a damn about a bit of blood staining the outside of your ear.

You shouldn’t. Trust him. But you—you feel as if he’s reached inside your chest and plucked out your pulsing, blackened heart.

“Do you love me?” You ask Okkotsu Yuuta again, heart throbbing in his hand.

His eyes don’t stray from yours. “Ask me again with my name,” he says quietly.

…You don’t know if you want to.

Releasing a breath, you push past him, snatch the ziplock bag from the floor, and stride towards the stove. “I’ll make coffee,” you say, already fiddling with the grinder.

Okkotsu lets you depart with a sigh.

“So what do you like to do when you’re not helping random people bury bodies?” You ask Okkotsu a couple of hours later. You stumble over a root in the dark, and Okkotsu’s quick to grab you by the waist and steady you. You continue, a bag full of your keys, water, pepper spray, freshly-bleached gloves, a burner phone that Okkotsu already had, for some reason, and two sets of clean clothes swinging against your back. You fidget with the shovel in your hands mindlessly, trying to get it to spin. A garden cart with a tarp draped over it creaks along the grass floor. The two of you have walked for who knows how long, but, according to him, you’re getting close.

The man beside you hums, surprisingly chipper for the nefarious activities afoot. “When I’m not busy, I like to garden and crochet. I also like making food for my friends from time to time,” he says in a simple, humble manner. The last part doesn’t surprise you. He’s brought you helpings of food on the most random occasions, showing up at your doorstep with self-proclaimed “leftovers” and shoving full plates into your arms with a velvety smile. That does beg the question, though…

“Have you considered us friends this whole time?” You squint at him in the dark, only the moonlight carving out the contours of his subtle, delicate features. You’re kind of surprised. You two made decent neighbors but only ever talked in short bursts outside your rooms. Your conversations rarely ever broke past polite mumblings about the weather.

Okkotsu pouts. “You mean, we’re not friends yet?” He asks, before breaking into a twinkling laugh.

“Shut up,” you bite, but you laugh too, lightly shoving at his arm. Okkotsu, bless him, pretends to stumble. It takes you a moment to suppress the heat burning the tips of your ears, but you do get it under control, eventually. “I meant… Before?”

His expression smoothens out before he gives a soft shake of his head. “No, not quite. But, I wanted us to be."

It’s quiet for a moment, nothing but the rustling under your feet and the ever-present, cacophonous sounds of nature. You spot a nest of sleeping birds tucked in between the branches of a tree and smile.

“Well,” you try to keep your cool, eyes sweeping over the forest's shadows, “Better late than never.”

It strikes you halfway to the burial grounds that Yasuhiro didn’t bring his phone with him to your apartment in his depraved, intoxicated state. He crawled up a tree, through your cracked-open bedroom window—conveniently avoiding cameras. So, once you’re done with this, you very may well be free.

It’s a terrifying notion, freedom.

“What about you?” Okkotsu asks you, something like ten minutes later. “What do you like to do for fun? Besides watch Sailor Moon, I mean.”

You bite your lip to keep from grinning. “Well,” you wonder aloud. “This is pretty fun, wouldn’t you say?”

Okkotsu lets out a little breath before he softly admits his agreement.

It rained earlier today, you forgot. The ground crumbles like clay when you swing the shovel into the ground. You and Okkotsu take turns making a grave, taking water breaks in between. There is hope alive in you, you realize, as the two of you work in tandem.

Yasuhiro Souta is lowered into the ground with all the dignity a dead man could possess. He lays atop a tarp and your old Persian rug. A stream rushes somewhere nearby, bubbling like blood, and you pray that the body will make good fertilizer. When your hand shakes, Yuuta grabs it.

You bury your clothes on the way back, a mile out. The sun peaks over the horizon.

When you return to your room with Yuuta in tow, your emotions overwhelm you: you are terrified and gleeful and sorry for all you’ve done.

It is mournfully quiet as you mop the purple tiles blue, bleach burning your nostrils and freshly scrubbed gloves. Yuuta’s left to clean the garden cart in the gardens. He returns shortly, though, offers you a small smile, and helps you scrub every inch of your apartment.

You scrub, and scrub.

And scrub.

“You’re beautiful,” Yuuta says to you when you’re in the middle of wiping your brow. You’re sitting cross-legged on your rugless kitchen floor, where a dead body once lay. Sweat clings to your skin in uncomfortable places and you reek of bleach. “Shut the fuck up and scrub, Yuuta,” you command.

Yuuta’s serene smile is unparalleled to anything you’ve ever seen before.

You could probably fall in love with him, you contemplate as you watch your neighbor make fluffy pancakes in the comforts of his own kitchen. If you haven’t fallen in love with him, already, that is. You doubt you’ll ever have a connection with someone as profound as the bond you share with the soft-spoken man who helped you bury a dead body.

Love, you marvel, in the span of a few hours.

It’s disquieting.

After multiple showers, and after Yuuta’s stuffed you with more pancakes than you can chew, the pair of you are lounging on his tatami mat, a much-needed change in scenery. You have like, three hours before you need to go to work, which, Yuuta agrees, is crucial to maintaining a veneer of normalcy. Which means this impromptu nightmare date will have to come to an end—as all good things do.

“I should probably get to bed,” you say after a lull in conversation.

Yuuta nods, reasonably. “That makes sense, yeah.”

“Got work in the morning and all that,” you continue in a nonchalant tone.

“Make sure your window’s locked.”

Fine. “Walk me out, will you?” You request. Okkotsu Yuuta, ever the gentleman, agrees, even though the front door is only a handful of feet away. He pushes himself off his knees and stands at full height, though his starless eyes are, as always, trained on you. You would probably find Yuuta’s full attention a little unsettling if you had not just slit a man’s throat that night.

You avoid his gaze all the same—stopping at his doorstep with your hands twisting at your sides. Yuuta stops beside you and waits patiently for you to string your words together.

You clear your throat. “Hey, um—”

“Hi,” Yuuta interrupts, and you smile, filled with the courage to go on.

“So, the thing is… Well, I probably wouldn’t have made it anywhere far without you. I acted quite amateur back there, you’d think this was my first dead body I was trying to hide, or something, ha. Um, so yeah, thank you—from the most sincere and vulnerable depths of my heart. I guess I’ll see you around? Okay, bye.”

A hand wraps around your wrist before you can run home with your tail tucked between your legs. Yuuta murmurs your name in a soft, dulcet tone, and you’re not certain you’re prepared to hear whatever he has to say. You turn to face him anyway, because, well, you owe him that much.

“Yes?”

“Don’t you have something to ask me?” He chides.

The pit in your stomach swoops. “Not that I recall,” you lie with a straight face.

“Try again,” Yuuta smiles sweetly, like a haunted little doll.

“It’s been a long day, you know—”

“Cold, I’m afraid.”

“My brain isn’t functioning at its peak—”

“Hmm, getting colder!”

“I don’t think I can.”

A pause. You avert your gaze and allow yourself to get analyzed by Yuuta’s doleful, starless eyes. “Hey,” he calls your name, asks you to look at him.

You look at him.

“Good," he hums.

You roll your eyes, loop an arm around his long neck, and drag him to you.

Okkotsu Yuuta tastes like the earth. From dust to dust, you are at the end and beginning when you capture his lips between yours. He responds quickly, hands digging firmly into your waist as he knocks you into his door frame, and you quickly learn what it means to be savored. You intended the kiss to be a quick, rash, thing, but he slows you down, melds into you languidly like you have all the time in the world. When he sucks on your bottom lip, you both moan, breaking apart for air. Yuuta slips his hands underneath your shirt, and for once, his cold hands burn, lighting the fire for something you’re not certain you’ll be able to finish.

“Go ahead and ask me already, love,” Yuuta murmurs into your ear. And, well, fuck. You melt. “Yuuta,” you whisper as he nips at your neck. “You love me, yes?”

At that, he bites down at the hollow of your neck. You gasp, then sigh when he instantly cools the wound with his tongue. “Obviously,” he replies, quite simply, thumb swiping delicately at your stomach.

“Great,” you gasp, and Yuuta looks at you and beams.

And, there goes your heart again, pulsing in his cold, calloused hands. Cradle it gently, Yuuta, won’t you?

fin. if u made it this far, ily

#mushy writes .𖥔 ݁ ˖#yuuta x reader #yuta x reader #jjk x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuuta x you #yuta x you #jjk x gn!reader #tw: blood #tw: death #m.jjk #m.yuuta #battle scarred;#yuuta my beloved <3

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hideousvoid · 1 year

Note

Can you do yandere Malleus headcanon?

Possessive Fae

Reader: gender neutral

warnings: isolating, stalking mentions, slight mention of violence and manipulating behavior.

You won the dragon's heart, the future king of the Fae's, it's amazing right? It's up to you to take it as sarcasm or not, he has many good qualities as bad ones. From now one you can't go anywhere without him or Sebek, Lilia or Silver.

At first you noticed how people started to avoid you, isolate like you weren't there. Your friends slowly disappearing and never talking to you again. What was happening? It was horrible, you didn't have anyone there for you leading to stay in your room most of the time to try feeling better. The only student that still talked to you was Malleus, rarely Sebek but only to mention his master and Lilia doing the same. One day, tired and sick of all the things that were happening you wrapped your arms around the dragon Fae crying on his shirt. You told him everything keeping him the closest to yourself, you needed love so much. He softly caressed your hair whispering gentle words to make you feel better, it was all his plan and you as a poor lamb was falling in his trap.

"Don't worry child of man, I will be here for you from now on, forever"

Everywhere you go or stay, you can feel a pair of eyes looking at you, never knowing who's those are. Could be Lilia, Sebek or even Silver, ready to tell Malleus everything. Sometimes the gaze is different, cold and harsh, as if that person is going to devour you any moment. Every little movement, breath or word is caught by him, you are his precious human and he needs to know about you. If you try to talk to him about it you are getting nothing else than the silence, looking at you unbothered. It's not like he is going to stop, as a spoiled kid he does whatever he wants and gets what he wishes. He could wake up tomorrow and choose to bite you to taste your blood, leaving a mark so everyone knows that you are his. What are you going to do about it? Nothing, because you can't and words doesn't work with him.

"you look so cute in your pajama, you know? I could just eat you up"

Then you are going to stay in his room, can't return to your old one anymore. All your stuff is there, your clothes in his wardrobe in a side just for you. You can only leave the room with the company of his familiars or him, then you'll immediately return to his room no matter what. You are only his and his alone, this is why he hugs you in his sleep tight as he is going to lose you any moment. Lilia deliveries the lunch and dinner that Sebek cooks, Malleus doesn't wish for you to eat the bat's almost poisoning cooking. Don't hope in those three, if you try to escape they will catch you and immediately warn the Fae. Neither talking with them will work, Malleus gave permission only to Lilia to chat with you. Obviously the conversation is about Malleus and you, he won't mention anything else. You do your homeworks with the dorm leader, you wash with him and you have a very little privacy.

"Did you seriously attempt to escape, (y/n)? I'm giving you all my love and attention, why are you doing such a cruel thing to me? You are hurting me so much.."

Naive as he is, he won't care much about the consequences of his punishment. In fact he will take you in his arms and shower you of his love, whispering how he did it for both and that you will feel better soon. You won't stop loving him, at least he thinks, you are too desperate and without him you can't survive. Malleus makes you find your room full of gifts everyday, name one thing you desire and you'll be immediately satisfied. Your body is full of bites mark made by him, his scent over you while you can only wear his clothes when you aren't at school. You won't leave him, neither death will, you are going to be with Malleus forever with no way to escape.

"your body, mind and soul are completely mine. Our souls are becoming one soon, you won't imagine of running away from me no more. Bear it with me, my jewel"

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thewolvesof1998 · 9 months

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Writing Poll Tag Game Results (18+)

So both You make bad days infinitely better and Mafia Buddie AU won so here are the snippets from those WIPS:

You make bad days infinitely better:

Sophia crumples in on herself, her sobs cutting through the night's air and into his heart. Before he can register that he’s moving his knees are hitting the ground in front of Soph’s chair and he’s pulling her into a hug. She's shaking like a leaf, so tiny in his arms, clinging to his shirt and tears soaking his shoulder like she used to do when she was young. His knees start to ache but he doesn’t let go not until her breaths even out and her grip loosens. When he finally pulls back he notices that it’s not just her checks that are wet, her hand comes up to pat his wet cheek. “Look at us,” She sighs “We’re a mess.” “This is why I hate coming home.” He wipes at his cheeks before finally standing up, knees cracking, Sophia using the opportunity to half-heartedly mock how old he is trying to restore an air of normalcy that Eddie appreciates. Eddie settles back in his chair and happily accepted the tequila bottle when it’s offered. He takes a few mouthfuls, steals himself and admits, “I don’t even know if I’m,” he waves unable to say the word which is something he was still working on with Frank. “Gay?” “Yeah I just, there's this guy…Do you remember Buck?” “Hmmm Buck, Buck?” She teases, tapping her chin exaggerated like a goddamn cartoon, “Oh yes! Your best friend, the person my nephew, Abula and you can’t stop talking about?” “Shut up,” He says ducking his head and hoping the dark hides that he’s blushing furiously. “And does he like you back?” Eddie hesitates, thinking back over the last few months, all the moments that left him wondering if just maybe his feelings are returned but then he remembers past girlfriends and no hints that Buck’s into guys. He sighs, “I don’t know.”

It's inspired by this post for @bucksbirthmark. You can read some more of it here, here, here, here and here and here's the mood board.

For you mi amor, I choose Death / Mafia Buddie AU:

Eddie’s fingers trail over the long-healed scars on his back and Buck can feel the barely restrained fury radiating from him. He turns his head to look at Eddie and places a kiss on the only thing within his reach, Eddie’s bicep where it holds him up. It's enough of a distraction to pull those whiskey eyes he loves so much away from the marks his parents left to Buck’s own gaze. Eddie sucks in a breath, “If Bobby hadn’t already-” “I know.” “If someone even lays a hand on you like that again, I’ll kill them.” There’s a promise of brutal violence in his tone, it sends a shiver down Buck’s spine and a vicious sort of pleasure soaking through his body. Buck can’t help the grin that spread across his face, he probably looks like a love-sick fool but he couldn’t care less. He leans up on a forearm and reaches his other hand up, threading his fingers into Eddie’s hair and pulling him into a filthy kiss. He pulls back far enough away to whisper “I wouldn’t expect any less,” against Eddie’s lips. Eddie groans and places a quick kiss on the corner of his lips, “Of course, you’d be into that.” Buck catches Eddie’s bottom lip between his teeth and gives it a tug in the way he knows will have Eddie moaning before pulling away, “If anyone lays a hand on you, I’d kill them too,” He tightens his hold on Eddie’s hair, “You’re mine and I’m yours.” “Eres mi mundo y me has conquistado,” You’re my world and you have conquered me Eddie murmurs, quoting the love note Buck has burned into his memory. Their lips meet in a bruising kiss that doesn’t stop as Buck rolls onto his back, pulling Eddie along with him until he’s on top of him, every naked inch of him pressing Buck into the mattress in the way he loves. Buck slings a leg over his hip and uses the leverage to roll his hips up into Eddie’s. He groans, his dick hardening with the friction. Eddie chuckles, “So soon again, amor?” "Only for you."

If you want to know a little bit more about this fic here a post I made about it!

Tagging people who voted or interested in these fics: @wikiangela @wildlife4life @alyxmastershipper @prince-buck-diaz @spotsandsocks @try-set-me-on-fire @jesuisici33 @heartbeatdiaz @bekkachaos @buddierights @forthewolves @911-on-abc @hippolotamus @shitouttabuck @911onabc @exhuastedpigeon @eddiediaztho @your-catfish-friend @hannah-ruth-990 @malewife-buck @i-ghostgirl @mrevanbuckley @sammy-souffle @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese @brokenribsdiaz @idealuk @princehattric @gunsknivesandplaid @name-is-loading @sarcastic-nerd @weewootruck

#9-1-1 #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie fic #9-1-1 fic #thewolvesof1998 writes #buddie mafia au #fic: you make bad days infinitely better #fic: for you mi amor I choose death

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goodnightmemes · 7 months

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SHUTTER ISLAND (2010) SENTENCE STARTERS

❛ You will be accorded all the help we can give, but during your stay, you will obey protocol. Is that understood? ❜

❛ You act like insanity is catching. ❜

❛ You are hereby required to surrender your firearms. ❜

❛ Then, personally, I'd have to say, screw their sense of calm. ❜

❛ It's as if she evaporated straight through the walls. ❜

❛ Seems like something you'd notice from time to time. ❜

❛ Sanity's not a choice. You can't just choose to get over it. ❜

❛ It's 11 miles to the nearest land and the water's freezing. ❜

❛ This is a mental institution, for the criminally insane. Usual isn't a big part of our day. ❜

❛ I always heard it was overrun with boozers and drunks. ❜

❛ You have outstanding defense mechanisms. ❜

❛ You misunderstand me. I said you are a man of violence. I'm not accusing you of being a violent man. That's quite different. ❜

❛ Since the schoolyard, you have never walked away from a physical conflict. No, no, not because you enjoy it, but because retreat isn't something you consider an option. ❜

❛ Just who the hell's in charge here, anyway, huh? ❜

❛ Jesus, are you ever sober anymore? ❜

❛ Are you real? ❜

❛ I'm just bones in a box. ❜

❛ Please. I need to hold on to you. Just a little bit longer, please. ❜

❛ You have to let me go. ❜

❛ I thought your investigation was finished. ❜

❛ I have this radical idea that if you treat a patient with respect, listen to him, try and understand, you just might reach him. ❜

❛ Do you know what she was afraid of? You. ❜

❛ I have my dark days. I suppose everybody does. ❜

❛ What I'm doing, it's not exactly by the book. ❜

❛ I don't give a damn about by-the-book. I just wanna know what the hell's going on. ❜

❛ Lot of places to hide a body here. ❜

❛ I've had enough of killing. That's not why I'm here. ❜

❛ A lot of people know about this place, but no one wants to talk. It's like they're scared or something. ❜

❛ How do you believe a crazy guy? ❜

❛ That's the beauty of it, isn't it? Crazy people, they're the perfect subjects. They talk, nobody listens. ❜

❛ Luck doesn't work that way. The world doesn't work that way. ❜

❛ What if while you were looking into them, they were looking into you? ❜

❛ Don't you know how lonely I've been? You're gone. You're dead. I cry every night. How am I supposed to survive? ❜

❛ I buried you. I buried an empty casket. ❜

❛ My [name]'s dead, so who the fuck are you? ❜

❛ You should have saved me. You should have saved all of us. ❜

❛ The clock's ticking, my friend. We're running out of time. ❜

❛ Why didn't you save me? ❜

❛ You need to find him. You need to find him and you kill him dead. ❜

❛ Listen, I don't wanna leave here, all right? I mean, why would anybody want to? ❜

❛ What the fuck's the matter with you guys? Catch them, not kill them! ❜

❛ Stop me, please, before I kill more. ❜

❛ You told me I'd be free of this place. You promised. You lied. ❜

❛ They say I'm theirs now. They say I'll never leave here. ❜

❛ I'll never get out now. I got out once. Not twice, never twice. ❜

❛ This is a game. All of this is for you. ❜

❛ You're a fucking rat in a maze. ❜

❛ I'm gonna find out what the fuck is happening on this island. ❜

❛ Would you mind taking your hand from behind your back, please? I wanna make sure that what you're holding won't hurt me. ❜

❛ That's the genius of it. People tell the world you're crazy, and all your protests to the contrary just confirm what they're saying. ❜

❛ Once you're declared insane, then anything you do is called part of that insanity. ❜

❛ You're smarter than you look. That's probably not a good thing. ❜

❛ The brain controls pain. The brain controls fear, empathy, sleep, hunger, anger. Everything. What if you could control it? ❜

❛ You can never take away all a man's memories. Never. ❜

❛ Seen any walking nightmares lately? ❜

❛ You can't stay here. I'm afraid if they come looking for you, they might find me. I'm sorry, but you have to go. ❜

❛ You're as violent as they come. I know this because I'm as violent as they come. ❜

❛ If the constraints of society were lifted, and I was all that stood between you and a meal, you would crack my skull with a rock and eat my meaty parts. Wouldn't you? ❜

❛ If I was to sink my teeth into your eye right now, would you be able to stop me before I blinded you? ❜

❛ You don't have a partner. You came here alone. ❜

❛ You know, I've built something valuable here, and valuable things have a way of being misunderstood in their own time. ❜

❛ I'm trying to do something that people, yourself included, don't understand. And I'm not going to give up without a fight. ❜

❛ Did you know that the word "trauma" comes from the Greek for "wound"? And what is the German word for "dream"? Traum. ❜

❛ Wounds can create monsters, and you...you are wounded. And wouldn't you agree, when you see a monster, you must stop it? ❜

❛ You go there and you'll die. ❜

❛ You blew up my car. I really loved that car. ❜

❛ Tremors are getting pretty bad. How are the hallucinations? ❜

❛ Get out of here. This place is gonna be the end of you. ❜

❛ Your delusions are more severe than I thought. ❜

❛ After everything I've seen here, you really think you're gonna convince me I'm crazy? ❜

❛ You've created a story in which you're not a murderer. You’re a hero. ❜

❛ I wish I could let you just live in your fantasy world. I really do. ❜

❛ I'm sorry. There wasn't any other way. ❜

❛ I trusted you. I risked everything to come in here after you. Everything! ❜

❛ I told you not to come in here. I told you this would be the end of you. ❜

❛ If you ever loved me, please stop talking. ❜

❛ I need to know you've accepted reality. ❜

❛ You tried to help me when no one else would. ❜

❛ Which would be worse, to live as a monster...or to die as a good man? ❜

#rp meme #sentence starter meme #sentence starters #inbox memes #rp inbox meme #rp starters #rp prompt #roleplay prompts #roleplay meme #*movie

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elena-mayfair · 2 years

Text

Living Nightmare

Paring: Morpheus x f!reader, Sandman x f!reader Warnings: tw abuse, swearing, graphic violence, adult themes, reader discretion is advised Summary: For some people, a nightmare is a definition of their lives. That is the case of the Witch that offered her help to the Dream of the Endless. While Dream decides his future she must face her past. Will the desire to dream be stronger than the felling of despair? Word count: 4.9k Note: Gifs are not mine, credit to the authors.

Series Masterlist Part eleven: Fallout

***

The morning was heavy with rain when you opened your eyes awakening from sleep. You didn't get up right away, instead, you rolled onto your back and began to think. Although images of violence remain clear in your mind, to your surprise, you discovered that sadness was not lingering in your heart. The feeling was more logical, more reminiscent of an awareness of what had happened over the past few days than an emotional feeling of pain. Instead of sadness you felt new feelings inside, feelings so long forgotten, curiosity, fascination, desire and something else…something you couldn't name. "Why did he come…" you thought and closed your eyes for a moment. You could still feel his touch lingering on your hand, your heart seemed to beat faster at that memory. "Why does he care…" you closed your eyes and imagined him sitting next to you on the bench, sitting far too close, filling the space around you with the enveloping, comforting darkness of the endless universe, holding your hand. It was as if the universe itself leaned over your suffering and decided to support you, not allowing you to grieve alone. The dream made you feel good for the first time in a very long time, despite the pain tearing at your heart, you felt good, you felt safe, you felt the desire for the Dream to never leave you again. "Screw this! This is bullshit! Fuck this! He's the goddamn Ruler of Dreams! I gotta stop, I can't even think like that! Stupid fucking brain and stupid fucking dreams!" angry at yourself you jumped out of bed.

"I don't need this fucking shit in my fucked up life! I don't need this! I don't need him! Fucking Dream!" you threw a cardigan over your shoulders and lit a cigarette "I helped him, he got his tools and power back, why the hell does he haunting me…" you walked into the bathroom and splashed ice-cold water on your face, "But.. I've never seen him before…. he said himself that he moves through our dreams every night…that means he has to choose to whom he wants to show himself to…that means he chooses to come to my dream…I have nothing to offer him anymore…why would he even bother…" directed stopped in your thoughts at the sight of the coffee mug standing on the counter, "Dream?" you looked around the apartment. The coffee was already cold, it must have been standing there for a good hour or two. You traced your eyes over the countertop and discovered several cigarette butts extinguished in the sink. You ran your hand over the countertop, and the discrete lightning bolts inside you sent out warning signals when you heard the click of the front door lock turning.

"Good morning sweetheart, you finally woke up!" you saw his face smiling at you lovingly, "I think your coffee had gone cold. I will make you a new one," he came up to you and gently kissed you on a cheek making your whole body turn cold, "You sit down love and relax, you had a nightmare, I've tried to wake you up," he placed both hands on your shoulder and sat you down on the chair next to the kitchen table, "Just sit. I'll make you breakfast. I had to run to the store, you should definitely do some shopping, you've been gone so long that even your coffee milk went bad."

"What are you doing here?" you've asked calmly.

"Constantine called me like three weeks ago, you went mia and we were simply worried about you," he replied caringly and continue brewing your coffee.

"I saw your text..."

"And of course, you hadn't thought about answering, did you?" he cut you off.

"How did you get here?"

"I still have a key love," he smiled at you and cut into a bagle. You could see how easily a sharp knife slid through the roll.

"David...I've changed the locks..." you proceeded carefully in your words.

"Maybe you shouldn't do that..." his voice dropped dangerously low, "But this is not the only thing you should not do..." he placed a coffee cup in front of you, "There sweetheart. Your favorite" he added lovingly and moved back to the kitchen counter, "After breakfast, you going to unpack my bag and clean this fucking mess you call your home. Since you are apparently incapable of making smart decisions and thinking for yourself I will stay here and make sure that you won't kill any demons in near future."

You answered nothing, fear and shock paralyzed your whole body. David knew everything, David was here, David put the plate with breakfast in front of you then placed his hand on yours clenching on the edge of the table. A cigarette was smoking between his fingers.

"We have so much to talk about..."

***

Whenever Morpheus was tormented by restless thoughts he came to the same place, the park. Being surrounded by teeming life, laughing people engaged in conversation, children playing and laughing, somehow made him feel less lonely. In his hands, he was holding a baguette, which he was nibbling absently and tossing to the pigeons gathered around him. His kingdom was beginning to flourish again, he had regained his power, and yet he felt restless, plagued by thoughts he could not calm. For the first time in billions of years, he was tormented by questions he could not find answers to, tormented by feelings he had not felt in centuries. As if sensing his loneliness and distress, a woman emerged from the midst of the laughing people. Smiling fondly at the sight of her distressed brother, she sat down on the bench next to him and waited for a moment, quietly encouraging him to talk.

"What are you doin'?" she asked provoking the conversation.

"I'm feeding the pigeon, " he replied with his eyes fixated on a piece of bread in his hands.

"You do that too much you know what you get?" she only nodded slightly at his obvious statement, "Fat pigeons," she smiled but his face remained still as a stone, he was far too gone in his thoughts. "That's from Mary Poppins. Did you ever see it?" she was trying to force him to talk.

"No." he replied musingly.

A little girl ran before them spooking the birds which he was feeding. Death only smiled warmly, while Morpheus glared angrily at the child as if outraged that her joy had the audacity to ruin his state of reflection.

"Okay, so what's the matter?" Death asked upon seeing his stern angry face.

"What do you mean?"

"I can tell something's wrong," she began with a bright, friendly voice, "I mean just look at you! Sittin' here, moping, pigeon-feeding. It's not like you.

"No. Perhaps it isn't..." he let out a heavy breath, "I don't know what's wrong but...you're right. Something is the matter.'

Death only leaned back against the bench's backrest and focused her concerned gaze on her brother. She managed to snap him out of his thoughts, now she was ready to listen, and Morpheus was ready to talk.

"When they capture me I just had one thought..." Morpheus began as his eyes drifted into the distance, "Vengeance. It wasn't as satisfying as I'd expected," Death tilted her head slightly with curiosity and he continued, "Meanwhile, my kingdom had fallen apart. My tools long since stolen and scattered. And so I embarked upon a journey to find them. Which I did. The pouch was relatively easy to find. To retrieve my helm we ventured to Hell where I had fought Lucifer himself. Then there was a ruby..." he stopped for a brief moment, "A human had been using it. I'm sure you felt the results of his actions. I hate to think what toll it must have taken on his mind and soul..." saddness tinted his voice, "We fought in dreams. The stone, no longer mine, was sucking me into its very fabric. It was terrible. And only the thought of..." he cut himself off. "It was like he was crushing my life in his hands, my very own existence... He destroyed it. It freed me. More than that...It freed everything of me that I had placed in that jewl. I got it all back. I'm now more powerful than I have been in eons," he growled with a dangerous voice, "And yet..." he drifted off in his thoughts again.

"Here you are feeding the pigeons."

"You see, until then I had a true quest. A purpose beyond my function and then, suddenly it was over, and...I felt disappointed..." his voice broke with sadness, "Let down. Empty. Does that make sense?" he looked up at his sister, "I was so sure that once I got everything back, I'd feel good. But in some ways, I feel worse than when I started. I feel like...nothing," he finished quietly. "There. You asked."

Death only placed her hand on Morpheus's knee and smiled kindly as he looked at her with a questioning look.

"Is that really all you feel?" she asked gently, "I'm sure that we part in your story has nothing to do with your current moping state."

***

"Eat," he ordered and lid up the cigarette. He relaxed on the chair sitting on the opposite side of the table.

"You know, somehow I am not hungry," you said quietly.

"But you need energy for a long day ahead of us!" he argued. "Like I said, you gonna start from cleaning this filthy house of yours so I could finally unpack my stuff and after that, I think I would like to eat your delicious roast beef..."

You looked at him and trembled to the core. Your living nightmare sat across from you and acted as if it was nothing as if you were still a couple. He smiled affectionately, yet with his voice, he ordered you and imposed his will. Just like before. "You sick son of a bitch...I'll get you roast beef"

"I want you to leave my home..." you started carefully. Your eyes were fixated on him watching closely his every move, every little twitch, every glance of his eyes, "You are not welcome here and you know that."

"Oh sweetheart, but I just got here..." he argued, "Or should I say you just got here. I've been waiting for you for almost three weeks."

"Just leave," you insisted, feeling every muscle in your body tense up "I don't know what you heard or what you think I've done, I really don't care. Just leave."

"But we haven't seen each other for so long..." he began in a very gentle tone but you could hear irritation slipping in.

"Good..." you cut him off.

"We have so much to talk about..."

"We have nothing to talk about."

"And I simply missed you. I think we need to spend some time together"

"I would rather die." you gritted through teeth. The storm inside you was beginning to rage, single lightning bolts were beginning to flare up. You breathed calmly and steadily, tensed, ready, ready for his every move.

"Unbelievable..." he exhaled, "Here I am worried about you, waiting for you, running to the bakery for you, making you breakfast and this is what you are giving me instead..." he looked at you, and you could see as if the fire of Hell itself was dancing in his eyes, "You ungrateful bitch!" he shouted and with one sharp swing of his hand knocked the plates and cups off the table. Pieces of broken glass scattered everywhere, hot coffee burned your knees when you abruptly moved away from the table at the last moment. "You see what you did!? Clean this up!"

"Fuck off to Hell you sick son of a bitch!" you shouted and clenched your hand into a fist.

"That's rich coming from you!" he chuckled, "Last time I checked it was you who went to Hell!"

"Who told you that?"

"And supposedly before you went to hell you killed a demon," he ignored your question and took two steps towards you, "You stupid cunt, we do not kill demons! We work with them, " he kicked away knocked down ashtray, "We work with Lucifer, not against him."

"No! You work with them! I don't!!" you snapped at him furiously, "You and your sorry ass friends!! I don't!! I never did and I will never do!!"

"Nah, you found yourself someone else to work for didn't you?" he gritted venomously.

"It is non of your damn business!"

You didn't even have time to react. With a sharp movement of his hand, he grabbed you by the throat and pressed you against the wall. You tried to break free but that only tightened his grip. Memories flashed before your eyes, memories of the years you spent with him, the years of the nightmare you lived in. He moved his face to yours and you could feel his breath on your skin.

"What? Men are not good enough for you?" he snarled, "Now you are his little bitch?"

"Get off me!!" you tried to push him away but it only tightened his hold on your throat even more making it difficult to breathe.

"You know he is only using you right? He needed some naive witch to help him find his tools. Now once he got them he got no use for you. I hope you know that," he said in a tender voice and moved away a bit "Why do you have to be always so stubborn? See what you made me do? You know I love you," the declaration of love on his lips sounded vile, "You are the one who left. You broke my heart. I gave you everything I had, I worked hard for us, I wanted to build a life for us, have children with you..."

"You were a psychopathic asshole who almost ruined my life," you rasped. The burning pain on your cheek was your answer. In your mouth, you felt the familiar taste of blood.

"You ungrateful cunt," he pressed his entire body to yours, "Just admit that you wanted someone else dick between your legs. Was he good? But did you really have to spread for someone who is not even human?!" you felt his hand moving down your tie, "Maybe I should remind you what you are missing..."

The thunderstorm inside you swirled and flared with countless lightning bolts at the touch of his hand on your body. So brutal, so vicious, reminding you of everything you wanted so badly to leave behind. Despite his grip on your throat, you looked at him and the lightning in your eyes seemed to shoot straight at him.

"I said... GET OFF ME!!" you shouted as he flew across the kitchen. "You sick sorry excuse of a man..." you were standing straight as the storm was raging all around you knocking down kitchen supplies off the counter, picking up scattered glass from the floor, "I should have killed you for what you did to me. I should have put the bullet between your eyes when I had a chance," you were spitting in rage, "You dare to come here, to my home, and assault me! You dare to speak of him, of someone who is better than you in every possible way. Who is more than you could be in hundreds of lifetimes! Who is more humane than you had ever been! You are a disgusting piece of shit in comparison to him! You are nothing! You've always been nothing! Just a sick manipulative abuser!"

"What you're going to do?" he taunted but you could see fear in his eyes as you moved closer. "You're weak. There is nothing you can do to me."

"I'm going to kill you. With every fiber of my body, I want to kill you," you spat with viciousness, "I want to tighten my hands on your throat as you did to me so many times. I want to squeeze it tight and watch as life leaves you. I want to feel your neck crush in my hands. I want to watch as your body rots away and then," you leaned closer to him, "I want to spit on your grave."

"You're not a killer..." he stuttered.

"I'm not. But perhaps I should make an excuse for you. After all, you are barely a human." With all your willpower, you forced the raging thunderstorm inside you to quiet down. You knew that if you let it consume him, it would take his life. Something you desired so much. "I will not stain my hands with your blood. Get the fuck out of my home and my life. I do not want to see you ever again."

***

"You can talk to me you know," Death assured him with her gentle voice.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I don't believe it!!" she let out in irritation and got up, "Let me tell you something Dream! And I'm only going to say it once so you better pay attention," she snatched the bread out of his hands making him focus on her instead, "You are utterly the stupidies, most self-centered, pathetic excuse for an anthropomorphic personification on this or any other plane!" she scolded gesturing expressively, "Feeling sorry for yourself because your little game is over and you haven't got the balls to go to her and tell her how you feel!" Morpheus only stared at his sister in silence, "You are as bad as Desire." she continued, "No, worse." she stated and threw a baguette back to him. "Did it ever occur to you that perhaps someone might care about you?!"

"I did think..." he attempted to defend himself.

"Exactly! You didn't think!" Death crouched down in front of her brother and rested her arms on his leg. The smile and kindness returned to her face again. "So? Tell me about her." she encouraged with childlike curiosity.

"What's the point? She is human..." he muttered somberly.

"Dream! I wanna know!" she slapped his leg gently, "Come on! Tell me!"

Dream remained silent for a moment as if trying to put the thoughts together in his head, trying to name the feelings he felt.

"For eons of my life, I never felt like this. I thought I had seen everything, that I had experienced everything, that I had learned everything there was to learn. There was nothing that could surprise me. Existence, life, people, none of it was any mystery. And then I met her, this beautiful oddity that unknowingly was wandering into my realm for months while I was away. A witch who involuntarily began to wander into my kingdom in her dreams, whose power could move the very fragments of reality within the walls of my castle. Have you ever seen anything like that?" he asked and Death only shook his head. "You know…she went with me to Hell itself. When I asked her why, she simply said 'because she wants to, because no one has had my back in a long time.' How simple and yet unbelievable…" he drifted off in thoughts only to continue after a moment, "I thought I had seen everything but I had never seen a mortal cry over one of us. She…she brought me hope. She made me feel happy for the first time in billions of years... when the sun's rays warms my face and the scent of the flowers blooming in my garden reaches my senses. And there is this feeling in me…. I have forgotten this feeling…"

"I think love is the word you looking for," Death smiled softly, "Oh Dream you are a bigger fool than I thought! You are in love!" she smiled widely.

"I'm not. She intrigues me," he denied quickly, "She makes me wonder about humanity once again."

"Dream, don't deny it! You are being ridiculous!"

"Love is no part of the dreamworld. Love belongs to Desire, and Desire is always cruel," he stated firmly.

"Love is not part of your kingdom because you decided so," Death said and forced her brother once again to look at her, "You made it that way. You can change it."

"Why would I change that? Love is capricious, impermanent, treacherous, and always ends in pain."

"You have been hiding in your realm for far too long Dream," she stood up and extended her hand towards him, "Come with me. I'll show you humanity as I see them."

***

David left. At least for now. You wanted to cry but couldn't, instead, you reached for a whisky and started sipping straight from the bottle. Sip after sip, cigarette after cigarette, your nerves slowly calmed down. You cleaned up the apartment, threw out the trash, picked up the shattered cups and plates from the floor, took off the clothes you were wearing, and threw them out with the trash. You felt awful, you felt dirty at the very thought of his hand on your body. Constantine talked to demons, David also probably learned to make such acquaintances hence he knew everything. Only that for Constantine there were uneasy alliances, the end that justified the means. Under the guise of a sarcastic asshole, Constantine was a good man with his heart in the right place. David was not. "Maybe if I had told John about what a son of a bitch David is this would never have happened," you thought bitterly. However, you never told anyone about what nightmare you had experienced during the years of your relationship with him. You were stupid, you were naive, you were weak, and weakness was a feeling you decided never to feel again. That awful feeling of being powerless, as if your own life was beyond your control. You were a witch, and yet you allowed your life to be almost ruined just because you loved the wrong man. "Love fucks you up..." you thought to yourself as you down the last drop of whisky.

"I'm not gonna be sitting here, moping and throwing myself a pity party," you thought while searching through your closet for something other than jeans and blouses. From the depths of it, you pulled out a tight black sleeveless mini dress. You wore it over black leather like leggings, to which you matched black suede mid-calf boots. You outlined your eyes with black eyeliner and even blacker mascara, and let your hair down. "Don't cry, that's not how your mother raised you, she didn't raise you to be a weak cunt," you told to your reflection in the mirror and left the house.

***

"You had thought me something that I have forgotten. I thank you, my sister." Morpheus bowed his head slightly towards Death. The day was coming to the end, the darkness of the night started spreading her veil over Waking World. After the day that he had spent with his sister, Morpheus indeed felt better than before.

"Aw, that's what family's about, li'l brother. Listen I've got to head back, just one more appointment. But it was good seeing you dough!" she gave him the most genuine smile.

"You have given me much to think about..."

"Yeah, say hi to her from me would ya?!" she hugged him as the sounds of crushing car reached their ears, "I gotta go. Don't be a stranger Dream."

He watched for a while from afar as in the first moments after the end of life, Death greeted a man with a smile on her face and a comforting word. There was so much warmth and kindness in her and yet people were scared at the very thought of her. She moved every day between despair and pain, she listened to people's griefs and pleas, and yet her warmth and kindness were not extinguished in her. At that moment she reminded him so much of Y/N.

"Boss?" the raven flew down and sat down on the roof of a car next to him, "I didn't want to bother you before...because well, you were kinda busy but..."

"What is it, Matthew?"

"Well, you asked me to follow her so I did and..." Matthew was increasingly nervous, silently wishing he had reported back sooner.

"Speak," Morpheus ordered.

"You might want to go with me."

***

Loud music filled his ears and the rumbling bass sounded right in his core as he entered the club. The space around him was suffocating and crowded. Flashing lights illuminated the blissful faces of people drowned in dancing, alcohol or other people's bodies. At the sight of him they moved away as if at the sight of death itself. "How wrong they are," he thought when a group of girls turned skittish eyes away. He slowly made his way through the crowd only to find himself at the edge of a dance floor filled with bodies flowing to the beat of the music. Desire danced along with them, rubbing against their bodies, trailing its hands over their necks and breasts as they let themselves be carried away by the music in exultation. "The Demon Dance" he knew the piece, knew the composer Julian Winding. People flowed together with Desire among the smoke and flashing lights and in their midst there she was. With her back leaning against a man, she danced seductively as his hands roamed over her stomach and below her breasts. She kept her eyes closed as his lips roamed her neck only to invade her mouth with his tongue a moment later. She let him. Desire seduced them in a dance of oblivion, pushing them further, craving more. Anger rose in Morpheus, a burning rage he hadn't felt in billions of years. Seeing the hands of someone who was nothing to him, greedily wandering over her body made him want to end his meaningless existence. And yet when his hand grabbed her neck with the desire to pull her closer she suddenly stopped dancing. As if awakened from a trance she jumped away from him and without a word moved towards the bar. Morpheus watched her as she ordered a glass of whiskey, which she downed in one sip. In the light of the flashing lights, he saw the bruises on her arms and cheek as she pushed her hair away from her face and their eyes met. There was none of the joy and relief he had seen in them before, instead he saw anger. She turned away sharply and with a quick step she headed for the exit, as he followed. Yet before he left, he made sure that the man she danced with earlier would dream nightmares for as long as he saw fit.

The cold air swept over his face when he stepped outside. He didn't have to look around for her. She was waiting for him with her arms folded over her chest.

"You following me now?!" she asked angrily, "First you follow me in my dreams, now in the real world? The fuck do you want from me?!" she was clearly drunk, but spoke clearly and she was furious. "You've got your tools back! I helped you! That's what you wanted! So what else do you want from me!? Why the fuck are you still here?!"

He answered nothing. He knew that until now he offered her no explanation, he knew she had every right to be angry, he knew who he was and could only guess how she felt about him.

"I've got nothing to give you Dream Lord..." she whispered as he closed the space between them, "There is nothing here," she touched her chest, "It's empty, there is nothing here."

"Who did to you?" he asked and gently touched her face. With one finger he carefully lifted her chin only to see bruised marks on her neck, "Who did this to you?" he repeated the question as blood in his veins filled with anger.

"Nobody," she replied quietly and move her head away, "Nothing you should concern yourself with."

"Tell me."

"Why?" she looked at him daringly.

"Because you are my concern. Whoever hurt you, must be punished."

"Why? Because I am an oddity? Something that ruined your perfect understatement of the world?"

"Because he hurt you."

"My life, my problems, not yours." he could see clearly how high she had put up her walls, she was hurt, she wanted to protect herself. "I don't need you lurking in my dreams, and following me in the Waking World! You come and go as you please! What do you want from me!" she gazed deeply into his eyes, "Are you just observing me because of my powers like you did before? Because I can use your tools? Am I your project or something? Answer me!"

"You are not," he replied sternly.

"Then fuck off," she breathed out, "Simply fuck off. I do not have time or energy to deal with a mysterious man who cannot give me even a simple straightforward answer. My life is too fucked up without you in it."

"Y/N I'm..." he started but she was too angry, too hurt.

"Goodbye Dream Lord."

Part thirteen: Daring to dream

~~***~~

Author note: And...what did you think? I had this idea stuck in my mind since almost the very begging. Since we moved away from Hell, and John Dee, and we are at the place where Morpheus has his tools I can finally start writing some other scenarios and other situations. And I'm very excited about it! If you're wondering about the song that played in the club scene here is the link 'The Demon Dance' I do like it very very much and actually that song inspired that scene. I keep thinking to myself that if the Dream of the Endless would visit us in real life questioning would be a perfectly normal reaction. Besides in this dark world of ours, nothing comes easily ;) Anyways, I do sincerely hope you've enjoyed this chapter. Sorry for excessive swearing, it had to be that way. And as always, Dear Reader, I thank you for reading :)

~~***~~ Tag list: @mycrazyfandom @unavoidabledirewolf @calicoevening72 @uzumaki-mj @thegreatestsandwich @parabatai-winchester @munsonmunster @consistentreader578 @jupiterclipse @fangirlmary @clown-princesa @galaxypox @dilfsandtherapy @kc-265 @midnxghtblue @sallysal9 @0shippingtrashaway0 @lu123sworld @octo-octopie @asmallhobbitruinedmylife @xxbeckybeexx-blog @jesllianaquilesrolon @dollfaceyourfear @shaewithyou @heavenmaycare @moon-enthusiast @home-of-disaster @xmxrfx @missnightingale1971 @lilfoxyqueensworld @fate-huntress @bionic-donut @kaifloof @mischiefmanaged71 @beakami @mm2305 @redbircl @floatingintheupsidedown @chaoticmessneutralplease @selena-mayfair @goingwiththewind @mikariell95 @asianfrustration13

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beyond-the-rabbit-hole · 6 days

Text

Guilty Party

Features: Vaquero and his Evan

Warnings: violence, morbid speech, all caps text

“missed me?" HABIT spat the words at Evan like he'd been given a pipebomb wrapped in a bow rather than a Christmas gift, "that's cute, really. hey, i'd miss me too if all i did was sit on my ass and mindlessly watch movies and beg for people to pay attention to me. oh yeah, i'm dropping the cowboy act for this one, sugarcube."

Panic in wide gray eyes huddled in the corner of the room Evan swore would be his demise- everything was tossed asunder from a little game of ring around the rosy. The couch was flipped over, the coffee table crashed into the tv, broken wood and chairs to turn the house into a landmine of splinters.

"i bet you don't even know what to do with yourself without me! if you did you wouldn't still be living this same damn life, this same damn day over and over. we'd be off somewhere new by now, wouldn't we? somewhere fun, somewhere exciting, building up a brand new life. but no, even without your HABIT you're still just like every other rabbit clinging to me. my story, my iterations, my everything."

Evan mumbled something about being trapped in the cycle, about there being no way out.

"NO, HABIT hissed, "YOU KEEP TELLING YOURSELF THAT ALL OVER AGAIN BUT YOU ARE NOT AN INNOCENT VICTIM. YOU ARE BLIND, YOU CHOOSE TO BE BLIND SO YOU DON'T HAVE TO SEE IT! BECAUSE YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH, YOU NEVER COULD!"

He crouched down in front of Evan with a wide smirk and whispered, "you want to know the truth? you want to know what's been sitting right under your nose? you could leave any time you wanted."

He waited paitently for a response, anything to reward HABIT for the enticing information he just dropped. Nothing, nothing but cowardice.

"you don't believe me," he chuckled, "all you have to do is shut up and change. change your habits. control me. you are what happens when you do not control me."

A weak protest, not a single word even worth remembering. It was a shaky, half cobbled excuse.

"JUST SHUT UP AND DO IT!" HABIT cackled, "CMON ITS THAT EASY! JUST SHUT UP AND DO IT."

Evan would laugh at that meme if he didn't feel like his very life was being threatened. Hands clamped over his ears and eyes squeezed tight so he didn't have to hear his booming voice, didn't have to see that blood-soaked smile on his very own face.

"BUT YOU WON'T WILL YOU? AFTER ALL I GAVE YOU, AFTER ALL I'D DONE FOR YOU, YOU'RE STILL JUST A COWARD. A WEAKLING, A PATHETIC LITTLE WRETCH UNDER MY HEEL. GUESS THATS MY FAULT FOR NOT MAKING YOU SOLVE YOUR OWN PROBLEMS, HUH?" Evan couldn't block it out, no matter how hard he tried. He wound up tighter into his ball. He really felt like a coward, he hid like one, trembled like one, cried like one. He wanted to snap bite fight rip tear punch but why? Why fight? He couldn't move his own body. Maybe he'd have plausible deniability if he just stayed here.

"YOU STILL WON'T ANSWER ME! HOW HILARIOUS." HABIT stomped over and smacked away Evan's arms like pieces of trash left in the room and gripped his chin. He forced Evan to look up at him with those pretty tear filled doe eyes and sunk his hand lower. Around Evan's throat now he swallowed into HABIT'S palm, gulped into it as he should. He was Evan's very life force, the very thing that got him here and the only thing keeping his dumbass alive and he would drink in air like ambrosia from his hand, at his command. And he could take it away whenever he liked. Evan's feet scraped against the wall not the floor now, brows high and knit and teeth bared in a submissive grimace with tears and sweat pooling and dripping down his face in a sopping pathetic mess the same way a dog would after its owner shoved it down into a puddle of its own piss.

"I GAVE EVERYTHING TO YOU. I PROTECTED YOU, AND I DID IT SO WELL YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW ABOUT THE PROBLEM. YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT HE DID, YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW THAT OUR DAD IS DEAD AND REPLACED BY AN IMPOSTER. YEAH, LOOKING REAL SHOCKED NOW, HUH? PRICELESS. YOU SHOULD SEE THE PITIFUL PRICELESS LOOK ON YOUR FACE." he cackled. "NOPE, WRONG AGAIN! I DIDN'T DO IT THIS TIME!"

HABIT could not stop laughing. He dragged Evan up to the bathroom and ducked his head into the sink.

"AWWW WERE YOU WORRIED I WAS GONNA WATERBOARD YOU? WE DON'T EVEN HAVE RUNNING WATER DUMBASS! AND WHO'S FAULT IS THAT, HUH?"

He threw Evan down on the floor. He curled up and whimpered like HABIT had kicked him.

"I DID EVERYTHING FOR YOU AND YOU COULDN'T EVEN GET YOURSELF A PLACE WITH THE BASIC FUCKING NECESSITIES FOR YOUR OWN PITIFUL SURVIVAL. AND YOU'RE OKAY WITH THIS? I WANT MORE, WE DESERVE MORE THAN THIS BUT NO, TO YOU THE COST IS JUST TOO DAMN HIGH. ITS TOO HARD TO KEEP A FUCKING JOB WITH ALL YOUR BAD HABITS, TOO HARD TO JUMP SKIP AND A HOP INTO A BETTER TIMELINE, A BETTER LIFE FOR US BOTH. WE COULD HAVE SO MUCH MORE IF YOU STOPPED GIVING INTO YOUR BAD HABITS! BUT YOU'LL NEVER DO THAT, YOU'LL NEVER PUT AN OUNCE OF ENERGY DESPITE EVERYTHING THATS BEEN GIVEN TO YOU."

"...people have died because they loved you and wanted the best for you. and you wasted it."

Tethers sprouted from HABIT and attached to Evan, hooking their limbs together. He pulled him closer and clasped Evan's hands and spun him around like a ballerina in a music box, posed pretty and twirling beyond his own control. He went in for a dip and waggled his eyebrows at him.

Evan dropped to the floor. He glanced into the bathroom mirror. And there was just him. Tired, sunken eyes and nails dug into his skin. There was only him.

#emh #everymanhybrid #habit emh #habit everymanhybrid #slenderverse #text post #killa speakin #killa drabble #killa vaquero

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angelkissiies · 2 years

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Hold on to me

Nancy Wheeler x Reader

CW/TW : talk of sexual assault, talk of abortion, mental health, cursing, fear, anxiety, violence (mentioned).

word count : 1772

authors note : this work may be triggering for some, it does not hurt my feelings if you unfollow or choose not to read. i love you and i hope those who do read this enjoy/relate to this. this is an abortion related fic, brought on as a way for me to express my feelings about roe v wade being overturned.

The air felt like hot coals sliding down your throat as you stared at the test in front of you. It was positive, there was no mistaking it. The revolution felt more violating than the conception, it had only been two weeks since the incident and now here you stood- two weeks pregnant with an assaulters baby.

“Oh fuck.” You choked out, body trembling under the stress. There was a life growing within you, one that made you gag at the very thought. What were you supposed to do? To think of having to raise the kid for 18 years, to see the face of the man that hurt you every single day made you want to throw up.

You stumbled out of the bathroom, heading directly to the landline. There was only one person you could call, one person who’d care. Your fingers trembled as you dialed the number, the line ringing as you waited an answer.

“Hello?”

You let out a deep sigh, the weight on your chest disappearing. “Hey.” Nancy was always good at answering the phone, even when Mike clogged up the lines.

“(Y/n)? What’s up?” She greeted, her chipper tone conveying through the phone. It was unusual to get Nancy in a bad mood, it was possible but pretty unlikely.

The words escaped you as you opened and closed your mouth like a fish out of water. Saying the whole situation out loud, and to someone else, made it feel much more real. If you didn’t tell her now, you could try to forget about it another day. Live just a little longer without those consequences.

“Hello? (Y/n)?”

“Yeah, yeah. Im still here.” You spouted, swallowing hard as you took a deep breath in. “Nancy, could you come over? If you’re not busy, of course.” You couldn’t bring yourself to tell her like this, the whole incident could warp your relationship with her forever. It was no secret, you liked Nancy. More than anything in the world, and this could really.. change things.

There was a silence at the end of the line, brief but definitely silent before she answered. “Oh yeah, sure. I can be there in..” She trailed off, probably to look at a nearby clock. “Let’s say 15 minutes.”

You felt your heart skip a beat, this really was happening- wasn’t it? “That sounds great, Nance. The door should be unlocked so just come up.” You moved a hand to rest on your abdomen, the sight making you feel ill. “I’ll see you soon, okay? Be safe.”

“I will, I’ll be over soon.” With that, she hung up.

The phone clicked back onto the base, cord curling around as you pushed it back into its crevice. There was nothing more to do now than wait. You just couldn’t seem to understand, of course you knew how this happened. It was a hard thing to try to forget. With it only being two weeks since, it felt very fresh emotionally. But that wasn’t your confusion, as you settled into the think pillows that rested on the head of the bed the only word that came to mind was ‘why?’

Why did this happen? To you of all people? It’s not as if you’d wish this on anyone but God it felt so cruel. Was this some kind of punishment for the feelings you’d been having? Being a homosexual was looked down upon, they even say it’s a sin in the Bible- but how can that be helped? How could you stop feeling the butterflies in your stomach when Nancy held you close. God, how could anyone? She was perfect. Even if being a homosexual was a sin, that would never warrant this. And if it did, God is a piece of shit.

The world was cruel, it wasn’t made for people like you. You were kind and genuine, you cared more about people you barely knew than you did about yourself. You’d dedicated years of your life to helping the poor, the sick, the needy. It all meant nothing, at least that’s how it feels. The sun shined through the window and plastered itself on the floral wallpaper that covered the entire room, creating a baby pink sheen of light haloing around the room. It almost made you feel better, it better meant you had stopped wanting to vomit.

A small knock was heard at the bedroom door before it creaked open to reveal Nancy, she was testing the waters as she entered. Eyes scanning the room for any indication of what was going on. “Hey, I let myself in like you said.” She hummed, closing the door behind her with a soft ‘click.’

“Thank you for coming, I really appreciate it.” You admitted, hands twiddling as you thought of ways to break the news to her. It wasn’t as if you wanted this or this was consensual. It was thrust upon you and now you just had to figure out what to do.

Her soft eyes met your own, leveling with you as she sat on the edge of the bed. Her baby skirt crinkled at the edge as she scooted in. “What’s going on, (Y/n)? It sounded urgent.” Her voice carried lightly, causing you to wince involuntarily.

The truth was bitter, but even bitter things must go down. “Nance, I’m pregnant.”

Nancy’s mouth fell into an ‘o’ as she took in those words, eyes reflecting what seemed like disappointment. “Wait, what? Are you sure? Who’s the father?” No, it wasn’t disappointment. It was worry.

“I’m very sure and the father.. it’s a long story.” You pushed the subject off, it wasn’t that relevant- right? “The test is still in the bathroom, it’s a very clear positive.”

The brunette squinted slightly at you, “(Y/n), what aren’t you telling me? Who’s baby is it?” Her voice became more stern, not stern as in drill Sargent but stern as in ‘tell me or so help me god I’ll figure it out myself.’

Your throat went dry, hands beginning to sweat. Images of the man who violated you that night flashed through your head, the feelings arose as if a wildfire had ignited in your chest. “It’s really…I don’t know how to explain this but I don’t know really who he is.” You began, “But it’s not the way you think. I didn’t just sleep with some random guy. I went to that party, you know the one that Joe threw?”

Nancy nodded, listening intently as you recited the story you had been dreading bringing to light.

“Well yeah, I had probably too many drinks. Steve and I played beer pong, then we raced each other at shots. But then, some guy started creeping on me. He was making me.. really uncomfortable. So, I went upstairs to freshen up.” Your stomach churned, the contents becoming dangerously close to your throat. “He followed me, and while I was fixing my skirt- he.. he did things..”

The silence was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

“Nancy, I… I tried to stop him. I tried to fight back. He was just relentless and so aggressive.” The tears came before you could even comprehend it, salty streams of regret from all the times you’d told yourself not to drink anymore. Every shot, every cup of beer. The taste of alcohol was the taste of rape now.

The girl had hopper across the bed to where you sat, arms wrapping around your frame. She pulled you into her chest, rocking you gently. “It’s okay, this wasn’t your fault. God, I’m so sorry.” Her voice cracked and she squeezed tighter, terrified to let go.

“I don’t know what to do, I can’t raise a baby. Let alone his baby. If I want to give it up for adoption, I have to carry it to term. Everyone will know what happened.” You gushed in a fit of panic, breaths coming out faster and faster as the moments passed.

Nancy pulled away to look into your eyes, holding you gaze. “Look at me, okay? Breathe. I will take care of you, honey. You have options.” She gently wiped the tears from your face, caressing you with the utmost care.

You nodded, trusting her. It was the most you could do. She seemed to know more than you could about this, which seemed impossible but you didn’t question it. “What options? I can keep it or I can give it up. I’m going to have to go through this pregnancy one way or another.” You pulled your knees up to your chin, refusing to even look at your abdomen.

“Well, actually, you have one more option. You can get an abortion. They can remove the whole fetus and you won’t have to go through all of that.” Her words felt like the final bell, the saving grace. Though, you didn’t fully understand.

You’d heard about abortion in passing but you never fully understood. “Isn’t that killing it? Fetuses can’t live outside of the womb.”

She nodded, “Yes. It will kill it. It’s not really a baby yet, so really all you’re doing is getting a sack of cells removed from your uterus. I know many lady’s who have had this done.” It was up in the air and to be honest, it was the best idea you’d heard in a long time.

“Does anyone have to know? Ever?” You shifted slightly, glancing around the room as if someone was peering in.

Nancy shook her head, hands moving to hold onto your own. “Your medical information in private and I would never tell a soul.”

Though, you knew this would weigh on your conscience- there was no other way. You were so young, you body wasn’t fit for this yet. This is what was best for you and the fetus. It’s life wouldn’t have been good, especially with a mother who could barely look at it without getting ill. You didn’t want to have a child, God, you were a child.

“Okay. I want to do it.”

The girls eyes softened, giving your hand a squeeze. “Are you sure you want to do this?” If there was one thing you loved about Nancy, it was the way she never judged you. No matter the circumstances, she never passed judgement on your choices, you really needed that. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

For once since the incident happened, there seemed to be a light at the end of the tunnel. With Nancy’s help, everything would be okay. Her love exceeded the hate that was implanted within you.

#nancy wheeler #triggering fic #nancy wheeler x reader #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson #stranger things headcanons #nancy wheeler loves you #mike wheeler #steve harrington #abortion discourse

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lyledebeast · 1 year

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Masculinity, Emotionality, and Performance in The Patriot

People love to talk about Benjamin Martin’s breakdown over his son Gabriel’s dead body. Choose any description of Mel Gibson’s performance in this movie, and it will likely not only reference this scene but dwell on it. In a way, this is surprising because, most of the time, Martin appears stoic and unflappable, but in another it is entirely to be expected. Gibson’s performance as this father of seven reminds me of something my own father said to me many years ago: “You know it’s important when a man cries about it.” What’s implied here is not only the obvious misogyny--women often cry over nothing--but also that men’s expression of emotion is always sincere. The second is as untrue as the first, and yet this idea is so pervasive in American culture that one of the most common take-aways from this popular movie is that Benjamin Martin’s love for his children is the most important thing about him. At the same time, most viewers take Colonel Tavington’s enjoyment of violence at face value. ignoring context to read “It’s an ugly business doing one’s duty. But just occasionally, it’s a real pleasure” as the character simply providing information about himself. Why would he say he felt that if he didn’t? In both cases, viewers reduce the character’s emotionality to whatever his loudest emotion is, but in neither does the part accurately represent the whole. While Tavington frequently performs emotions he does not feel, Martin largely conceals those he does.

Tavington’s scenes with General Cornwallis showcase an obsequiousness that is later revealed to be wholly performative. ”I dare to presume my own meagre contributions will be rewarded one day?” he says before Cornwallis threatens to withhold his reward if does not cease his “brutal tactics.” But his response to the threat reveals something completely different: “Is it not enough that I have never lost a battle?” After Cornwallis issues another threat to withhold a reward if Tavington chooses not to follow his orders in the movie’s final battle, Tavington says, “My efforts, in no small measure, brought you here” in reference to what Cornwallis predicts will be “the greatest victory of my career.” In the first scene, Isaacs smiles and fawns; in the second, he advances on Cornwallis, speaking these words in a low, almost menacing tone. Indeed, almost every scene that features a smiling Tavington also features an attempt to manipulate by feigning emotion. He is congenial, and a bit smug, when he offers Rollins a reward tripling the value of his stolen goods, but when Rollins spits in his face his expression shifts to disgust, then rage. But the rage does not consume him, and almost immediately the mask is back in place. There is a hint of a smile when he replies to Rollins taunt “Do your worst” with “I always do.”

The subtle shifts in expression at which Isaacs excels are nowhere better displayed than in Tavington’s confrontation with Martin at the gates of the British fort. Tavington is straight-faced when he tells Martin, in a confidential tone, “You know, it’s an ugly business doing one’s duty.” As he adds, “but just occasionally, it’s a real pleasure,” his lips curve into a smile. But the most interesting shift happens after Martin threatens to kill him, after Martin turns his back and is walking away. He exhales, his eyelids flutter. As the gates close, the last frame on the British side focuses on Tavington as he watches Martin leave with an equal mixture of fear and longing. Not fear of Martin as such--he would not try to goad him into attacking if he was physically afraid of him--but fear of the random violence Martin represents. He wants so badly to have an encounter with Martin over which he has some degree of control that his performance of cruel glee is particularly difficult to sustain here.

While Isaacs’ face is mobile throughout this exchange, particularly his eyebrows and the corners of his lips, Gibson’s is as frozen as stone except when he speaks, when his gaze briefly shifts to Tavington’s throat before meeting his eyes again, and when his eyes widen ever so slightly just after he says “Soon” in response to Tavington’s “Why wait?,” just before he turns his back on Tavington. While Tavington’s ever-shifting expressions reveal every emotion he feels, and a good many that he doesn’t, Martin’s displayed emotions, or the lack thereof, are a poor indictor of what he actually feels. To understand that, we must consider his actions.

When Martin’s friend and fellow French and Indian War veteran John Billings finds his wife and child murdered by the Green Dragoons, Martin responds to his grief with silence and a mildly concerned expression. He displays slightly more emotion after Billings shoots himself in the head: blinking rapidly, turning his head to avoid seeing his friend’s body. But his next words give away far more than his expression: “Attend to your families. One week furlough for all men. Any man who does not return will not be thought a coward or uncomitted.”

Although Martin speaks these words in a clear voice, with authority, what they display is panic in the face of circumstances he cannot control. I give up, let’s go home. Unfortunately for Martin’s children, he has the same emotional response to their grief. When the militia come upon the burned-out church after their return from furlough, Gabriel immediately runs to knock on the door of his new in-law’s home before declaring “they’re not here.” Meanwhile, Martin fixes the exact same blank stare on the padlock holding the church door shut--proof that the townspeople are very much “here”--that he does on Tavington in the fort scene. We do not see him informing Gabriel of what he knows; the next frame reveals him digging through the rubble inside the church and finding the north star emblem that had belonged to his late wife and that he had passed on to Anne as a wedding gift. Rather than comforting the living, he chooses to spend time with the dead, who can make no emotional demands on him. This trend continues when Gabriel dies in his arms in the next scene, having been wounded by Tavington in a raid about which Martin knew nothing until it was too late. Here, finally, Martin is emotionally unrestrained, for all the good it does anyone.

Considering Martin’s response to his peer and son’s grief, is it any wonder that his youngest daughter will not speak to him? Susan is clearly angry with him for abandoning the family, but her silence is a trauma response dating from her mother’s death, which means it lasted through the first three years of the war that Martin spent at home. Her speaking, finally, corresponds to no recent change in his behavior; it happens just when he is returning to the war, abandoning his family yet again! Gibson’s emotionality here is compelling, but perhaps more interesting for what it conceals than what it shows.

In each case, Tavington’s emotional manipulation is meant to be read as the lie it is. In Martin’s, though, it is the audience that is being manipulated. The character’s emotions are certainly genuine, but the narrative relies on the power of Gibson’s performance of emotionality to conceal the cracks in Martin’s heroism. His inability to express emotions and the resulting lack of emotional connection to his loved ones contributes to the high body count of his loved ones that accumulates by the end of the movie. But, his tears are effective; they help the audience know with whom we should sympathize. You know it’s important when a man cries about it.

Martin’s tears are not the only manifestation of emotion his performance of stoicism fails to contain. His violent impulses are hinted at, comically, by the pile of broken chairs revealed at the end of the scene that introduces him and decidedly less comically as he screams while hacking into the prone body of a British soldier who had fled his massacre. These scenes are often hand-waived as a bad temper and loss of control, but his face-offs with Tavington call that reading into question. If he had no self-control, the taunting at the fort would have played out as Tavington intended. Both men are thinking of that scene in their final confrontation. “Kill me before this war is over, will you?” Tavington says before the swing of his sword he intends to decapitate Martin. In the end, though, it is Martin who dispatches Tavington with his own dramatic gesture, reminiscent of the prior scene in which Martin’s eyes drop to Tavington’s throat. Impalement on a sword is mortal, as Martin’s very fresh grief proves. The bayonet through Tavington’s throat as the two men face each other, as close and intimate as the fort scene, shows that Martin has longed for this bloody consummation as much as his enemy. Just because Gibson’s face isn’t dancing doesn’t mean Martin is not enjoying himself.

Ironically, the power of Isaacs’ performance as Tavington lies in its honesty. Not only did his influence over the filming script result in a far richer, more nuanced character than the original script provides, but his acting choices reveal a man who is desperate to appear more in control than he really feels. Gibson’s performance, though, invites us to overlook aspects of this character far more important than his love for his children. The relief he feels when Susan speaks to him is real, as are the tears he sheds over Gabriel’s body, but so are the ways in which his emotional repression and commitment to violence contribute, in no small measure, to the very silence and death he grieves over the course of the movie. In many respects, the main conflict in here is not between two men or two armies but two masculinities that are, on closer examination, not as different as they seem. Both Tavington and Martin attempt to hide what they truly feel, and Martin’s success is as destructive as Tavington’s failure. Martin’s brand of masculinity “wins,” but only to the extent that the audience, like Susan, is willing to forgive, overlook, and excuse his transgressions.

#the patriot #benjamin martin #william tavington #mel gibson #jason isaacs #masculinity #men's tears are some kind of elixir vitae #tavington should've cried more #or does that only work for fathers?

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edgepunk · 4 days

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7, 8, and 16 for the choose violence ask game!

Sorry for the late reply, but this ask got lost in my inbox till I found it again

7. what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?

I wouldn't say hate, I found a new appreciation for him, but for a while it was Garrus from the Mass Effect games. His fandom is so fucking horrible, I can't even begin to describe how awful they are. It's not just me who felt this way, but a bunch of my mutuals too. They would hijack EVERY post mentioning the other Love Interests and make it about Garrus and/or hate on the other LI. And some of the most homophobic, misogynist and racist shit were spewed by Garrus fans, i.e. they'd turn femShep into his trophy waifu, or the rampant homophobia when people shipped him with maleShepard, don't get me started on how they'd talk about Jacob and it's still happening to this day. It took me a long time to go around playing the games and distance myself from the fandom. I'm cool with him now, though.

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

hmmmmhmmm I can't really think of anything atm? But the one that irks me is when Em See You fans insist that Peter NEEDS an adult/mentor even though 99.9% of his other versions are fine on their own, and prefer to work alone unless it's something big that needs a team-up. I just dislike the entire "the Avengers adopt Peter" thing. It's. so. bleh.

16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

lol that ties into my previous answer - the whole Peter gets infantilized bullshit. I don't see the appeal of one of the most popular superheroes who's done incredible things in various adaptations (including the Em See You) to be reduced into a bumbling useless toddler trapped in a teenager's body. It annoys me so much when people completely disregard his intellect, his adaptability and his superpowers, mainly his strength. He can lift buses for crying out loud. Like yeah it's a common thing to make fun of him, because sometimes he does act like an idiot despite being smart, but he still can do great things and finds a way to defeat his enemies by using his skills. And the whole point of Homecoming was that he shouldn't rely on others and trust in his own abilities to become his own hero. But it seems like the majority of Em See You fans decided to ignore it and still write him as this uwu baby boy. It's so grating seeing your favorite superhero being reduced into This Thing. We can discuss the Em See You's writing all night, but even in those movies didn't do that to Peter. He still did great things, and like I said, the whole point of those movies is him not relying on others, but becoming his own full-fledged hero. He is not a toddler in canon idk who started this trope but I'm gonna hunt them down for sport /j

#spider-xan #I'm making this unrebloggable bc I don't wanna get burned at the stake sjkhskjskjdh

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ghosttownwherenoonegoes · 1 year

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I miss Eddie.

I miss the way his dimples curve up his cheeks, starting at the corners of his mouth before spreading upwards, the way his smirks start at the opposite corner to his smiles, the way he's either grinning so quickly it's like he's always been grinning because you don't see it grow, or the way it creeps up slowly and then all at once, like falling asleep.

I miss his chocolate button eyes and the way they swim with tears, or the way they look when he's got mischief on his mind, the way they crinkle when he smiles and the way the bags underneath bunch up when he grins. I miss the way his tongue pokes out between his teeth when he's concentrating or when he's trying to be sneaky. I miss the way he throws himself to the floor when he perceives danger or the way he throws himself into danger for the people he deems worthy of it. I miss his long hair and his leather jacket and his Dio patch and his love for heavy metal and his love for life and the way he tries again and again and does his best with what he has and always finds a way to bounce back as strong and as feral and adorable as ever. I miss his strength and wisdom and confidence and beauty and how he's so Eddie, through every rise and every fall, every tragedy and every triumph.

I miss the way he finds, adopts and protects his little sheepies, his family, the way he became for others what his Uncle Wayne is to him, the way he chooses kindness over being as mean to others as they are to him (and believe me, I know well how much violence it costs to even try to be gentle and kind when there is the acid of hate right on the tip of your tongue but you don't want to be like the people who hurt you, you don't you don't you don't), the way he judged Erica how he was judged but then when he's called out on it he realises his mistake and owns it and makes it better and doesn't do it again. The way he tries to mend bridges between Steve and Nancy when he sees that there's more for them because he might be a self-proclaimed cynic but he doesn't want love to go to waste, the way he comforts Chrissy when he sees she isn't okay, the way he throws himself off a bench because he's trying to make her laugh and then they sit and talk and bond and holy shit, maybe not every cheerleader is mean and scary and he's just so emotionally intelligent and he cares, he cares he cares, so much so that if he tried to hold his heart in his hand he would burn himself for all the passion he shows the world.

The way he learned a Metallica song in just eighteen days by ear and by heart, the way he keeps track of and remembers all the details about his campaigns between one Hellfire session and the next, the way he's obviously so clever and driven but the school system doesn't work for everyone and nine times out of ten it sets people up for failure and the way he wanted to graduate because why the fuck else would he try three times for the same damn thing if he didn't care?

I miss the way Eddie laughs, the way he giggles, the way he trips over his own feet while running down the stairs, the way he shouts hi at particles and crosses his fingers behind his head, the way he grins and the way he asks for beer even when he knows it's a bad idea just because he needs something to soothe his jangled nerves. I miss the way he wore everything he loved on his body, made every article of clothing and every accessory count, the way everything he does and is and has is sentimental, the way he loves Uncle Wayne, the way he loves his sheepies and Hellfire, Corroded Coffin, the way he managed to juggle all of this as well as being a drug dealer without getting caught, and still find time to sleep and take care of himself.

I'm sat here typing so fast my fingers are burning and I have a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes and all this love and nowhere for it to go and I miss Eddie Munson. So much and for so many things but most of all, because he's Eddie Munson, and nothing is more special than that. I'd die for him, but more than that, more than that, I'd live for him. Because he's worth it. He's worth all of it.

#eddie munson #i'm gonna fucking LOSE it i love him so damn much #god i wish i could tell him #i'd do anything

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missameliep · 2 years

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Like Poetry – Blades of Light and Shadow – Tyril Starfury x f!human!MC

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow

Pairing: Tyril Starfury x Nayeli (f!human!MC)

Characters: Tyril Starfury; Nayeli (MC); Nia Ellarious (the Priestess); Kade (the Bard); Imtura Tal Kaelen (the Princess) and Mal Volari (the Rogue).

Rate: Mature (Read notes)

Word count: 7k

Summary: More than three decades have elapsed since Tyril Starfury left Undermount and joined a party in their quest to save the world from the Shadow Court. Reminiscing about the time spent amongst humans, he ponders about life, friendship, love and time itself.

Notes:

• Story freely based on a prompt from @the-modern-typewriter, in bold is the part of the prompted used, which also inspired the title, and you can find the original post here;

• All characters belong to Pixelberry, I’m just borrowing them;

• TW: character death (not graphic but still 2 characters die), violence, and mature subjects that might be triggering to some readers;

• The name Nayeli is of Zapotec origin and means “I love you”, and I think it’s quite appropriate to the MC in this story;

• Events take place three decades after the end of book 1 and I'm experimenting with different things narrative-wise in this story, so feedback is appreciated ☺️;

• English is not my first language.

Time flows at its own pace.

Steadily.

Unstoppable.

Just like a river.

Always moving.

The apparent stillness of the surface sometimes tricks the eye, but time never stops; not even in those moments when it seems to stand still, like the first time Nayeli kissed him or when she confessed her love for him or whenever she cries his name when their bodies and souls unite in the most intimate expression of their love, it does not stop and one should not be fooled by it.

Impossible to block its path with a dam or slow it down. Impossible to press it forward either. The winds cannot change its course. Not even all the known magic in all the kingdoms can change that despite every attempt in doing so. Time never stops.

And that is the beauty of it. A beauty lost on Humans, the Elves used to say.

Humans seem to always be at war against time.

A war fated to be lost.

Not because of death, everyone dies, and everything shall perish eventually. Even the elves in their timeless grace shall meet their end. But humans, it seems, choose to focus on the losses and despair long before the end. Grasping for what’s impossible to hold, watching it slip through their fingers like sand, their eyes miss the true beauty of this world. The beauty in permanency. The beauty in order. The beauty that remains even when one is gone.

Prior to leaving Undermount, Tyril Starfury agreed with the scholars of his land: this behavior is nonsensical, why rebel against what cannot be stopped?

Time flows and Immortality is nothing but an impossible dream.

Nevertheless, more often than not these days, he wishes seconds would slow down and stretch indefinitely.

After three decades living amongst the humans, one could not ignore that the elf has learned too much about their ways – even if it is worth mentioning most of the knowledge about humankind was acquired against Tyril’s own will – and his mind and views about the world have changed. Evidently, they have not changed to the point to become foolish enough to go on a quest against time. Or death.

Though, to be fairly honest, he’d give his life for Nayeli a thousand times and a hundred more.

If time follows the natural course and fate does not trick them, the fire inside her will extinguish long before his own. Despite this knowledge and that he has lived many years in a world without her presence, sometimes he wonders how one can live on when your heart returns to dust?

Impermanence started to be more noticeable to his eyes. Human lives flow at a different pace from the ones sheltered within the sanctuary of Undermount.

Like the momentary bloom of springtime flowers are the humans. They bloom and soon wither; whilst the elves remain mostly unchanged – on the surface at least.

The texture of Tyril’s celestial-blue skin has not been marked by deep lines and wrinkles, remaining as smooth as ever, nor his raven black hair has been peppered by white. For the past fifty years little changed in his appearance, and very little will change in the next seventy or hundred years. Unlike the humans around him.

Everywhere, youth and beauty fade.

However, the changes within, the scars and thorns well concealed in one’s core, might be the most significant of them all.

Tyril has been learning about them, and his heart began to nurture sympathy for their urge to not succumb to decadence and oblivion. A fate only very few can escape, nonetheless. Some by their great deeds reach immortality by becoming legends and subjects of verses and timeless praise, others by the equally greatness of their evil and greedy hearts, becoming tales that scare the younglings.

His eyes have contemplated a few of those humans who reached this level of greatness. The good and the bad kind.

II.

From Riverbend, an obscure village in the south of the kingdom of Morella, came the hero the tales announced for so long. In fact, a heroine.

Unlike the expectations of the elves, the heroine was an unremarkable human with no magical powers, untrained in the arts of war and no visible greatness. Who amongst them could expect that a mere human could undo the corruption forged by elves’ powers and foolishness over a millennium?

Nayeli, the orphan who grew up with no last name and once counted on compassion to survive, built her greatness over the ruins of her losses. Many misjudged her unimpressive appearance and her ordinary origins; Tyril takes no pride in admitting the condescension in his initial judgment.

These erroneous beliefs did not stop her from becoming the greatest adventurer and the fiercest warrior to walk around Morella and beyond. Many raised toasts to her and still do. The bravest woman to walk amongst them, who never left a companion behind – disregarding the fragility of her own body, Nayeli would come even for an elf wielder of magic like him –, who united the group in her quest to rescue the only family she’s known that far and led them to defeat the Shadow Court, all the while giving her companions reasons to fight and hope.

Hope.

Once upon a time, Nayeli’s hope was enough to save not only the Bard and the Priestess but the entire world. And it did.

Unstoppable. A force of nature, one could say. The greatest heroine of the Realm. Every bard from Morella and beyond sang about her and her companion’s deeds. The woman who inspired epic poems across the lands still rouses him to write verses late at night, some on paper, some on her warm brown skin.

Nayeli’s greatness had come at a price. A price too high at times. A price he would be willing to pay instead of her. Or perhaps share the gift of his birth; but that he could not do. His years were his and his alone; not a minute of his existence could be granted or added to her life nor to the lives of the ones she loved.

III.

Right after they met, Tyril found nothing special about Nayeli.

To him, she was yet another annoying human, who smelled of smoke from the campfire, stale ale, and aromatic herbs she carried in her duffel bag. Her dark brown eyes could be either inviting, like contemplating the beauty and mysteries of the night sky or piercing like the sharp blade of a dagger, cutting right through you; either way, those eyes often followed him, be it curiosity or something else he was not entirely sure at the time.

Flirty, brazen, and bawdy. Her teasing vexed him, and, after a few swigs at the bottle of ale, the jokes that came out of her mouth were as lewd as the ones told by the crew of orc pirates to the amusement of the party and Tyril’s perplexit, considering the extraordinary pain he kept at bay, which he could see in her eyes.

Equal parts kind and resilient.

People praised her beauty.

But he did not see it.

Not at first.

Perhaps, to perceive how beautiful she was, one had to continuously look at her. Close. Closer. Like he did. Taking in the glow on her deep brown skin and the tenacity and witty that caused the dark brown eyes to sparkle. Drinking in the sight of her marching, face radiant with sunlight and droplets of sweat, black hair, long, thick and coarse, pulled into rough locks that resembled braids but were nothing like the ones that adorned the elves’ heads. These locks framed her face, swaying during the long marches in their journey, and falling down her shoulder when she rested beneath a tree to rest.

Tyril had observed her from afar and learned about her, noticing even the smallest things like how her nose wrinkles when she smiles, the way she embellished the locks with little tokens, such as a seashell from the island she visited with the Rogue, and how she would cry herself to sleep many nights, but mornings would invigorate her and there would be no hint of despondency while she welcomed the new day, except for the slight swelling of her eyelids that not once he mentioned.

Mostly, he believes now, one had to contemplate the strength she drew from a heart that seemed too big to fit inside her chest, experience her kindness that prompted her to share even the smallest loafs of bread with others, the loyalty and devotion even to a brother she would do better mourning like humans do – but Nayeli would never do that, never giving up on hope.

Perhaps, one had to know her.

Therefore, during the first days of their journey, Tyril watched and learned, quietly and undisturbed.

Not for long, however, and mostly definitely not as inconspicuous as he assumed.

The Rogue was the first to notice the lingering looks – or at least the first to speak and tease him about it. Nonetheless, Tyril ignored his crude remarks, like he had chosen to ignore the feelings blossoming too. How could he ever develop such feelings for a human of all creatures?

However, his heart betrayed his resolution and that plan failed. A thing he never regretted.

To this day, it bewilders him that Nayeli’s gaze would linger on him as well. And from all the people she met in the lands of his ancestors and faraway, her heart claimed his.

He had no other choice than to offer his heart to her, and he was hers as much as she became his.

IV.

For countless years, each new day started just the same and there was nothing else the elf’s heart desired more than reliving that ritual again and again and again.

As soon as the birds chirped at the tops of the ancient trees towering the small cottage by the river, before the first rays of sun could dissipate the fog and make shine like tiny diamonds the dew covering the grass and peppering the windows, the elf’s blue eyes would flutter open and find the fiercest human he’s ever known sound asleep beside him.

A blessing from the Gods Tyril never thought himself worth of.

Despite his beliefs, Nayeli chose him. Over and over. Even when he refused to be chosen, even when he politely asked her to leave him be… she wanted him and nobody else by her side.

Many eyes desired her, and she could have had anyone: human, orc, elf or any other being who has walked upon these and foreign lands, be it Knight, Royal, magical wielder or commoner.

A prince once offered his soul and his entire kingdom, yet her heart wished none of that. Her witty and sense of justice were praised by some; while others lusted upon the curves his fingers and lips have mapped. Even the Rogue would have abandoned all the Contessas in the blink of an eye for her; beneath the nonchalant appearance, Tyril suspects a piece of his heart remained in her hands even after all these years and all the lovers he welcomed in his arms.

Many years ago, when there was fire in Nayeli’s eyes and her strength and hope could have carried them both, they were sent off to another war and volunteered themselves on a quest against the Dark Prince and his followers, hunting down every remaining ally of the Shadow Court. For the next decade after they met, peace was not an option. They had no home but each other’s arms.

At first, the party rejoined to face a greater evil. Even greater than the Shadow Court.

The Heroine, the Elf, the Priestess, the Rogue, the Orc Princess, and the Nespers were together again. Even the Bard went along, determined to register all their great deeds. Little they knew there’s little greatness when it comes to war.

The battle cry called from beyond the frontiers of Morella, and they followed, braving through the densest forests and the most inhospit deserts.

The battle cry is persistent, and Nayeli could not ignore it. And Tyril could never ignore her. Neither could the others.

Battle after battle, they fought for the world’s salvation, for honor and justice, and mostly they fought for their own lives and to preserve their spirits and shield their hearts from the evils surrounding. They faced new enemies and new perils. Despite the fleeting victories, the bitter taste of many losses lingered.

In the end, they prevailed and moved on to another fight. Then another one. A new danger constantly looming over the horizon, almost no time to rejoice.

It should not have surprised any of them that there would come a time when the party would eventually part ways. It wouldn’t be the first time, but it would hurt anyways to part from those who became one’s family.

War took too much of their lives and energy. Unlike the quest against the Shadow Court, who brought them together and forged the unbreakable bond of complicity and love, gradually the long campaign and successive battles lost meaning.

“What are we even fighting for?” A question whispered by different lips in the darkness of many nights.

Season after season went by. Despite the immense love shared, not one remained the same. Nayeli was too stubborn to realize it at first – or perhaps too hopeful – that instead of fighting for honor, goodness and love, they were fighting for duty and a piece of cloth hanging above a Palace that had no meaning whatsoever... The promised adventures came and went by too quickly, and the determination of the group faltered with the realization that fight was not theirs. Their hope and faith in Nayeli remained, but the moment they dreaded could not be prevented anymore.

When the days got longer and it was safer to travel, it was settled the Priestess and the Bard should return to Whitetower, the city they embraced as home. Despite the Priestess disposition, strength of character, and increasing dexterity at the fields, they were not warriors nor adventurers, and as painful as it was, it made sense to let them go. They witnessed it all, and their pens and voices would keep them alive, even if the remaining party succumbed to their final rest at those foreign fields – which they never did.

The grand library of Whitetower sheltered the Priestess and the Bard from the outside world, but not from the horrors whose roots spread within their minds. Their eyes saw too much darkness for their kind hearts to remain the same. A burden they learned to carry together. A friendship that lasted to the end of their days.

Then, one day the sea called out to the Orc Princess. An irresistible song.

“You won’t turn me into no landrat,” she guffawed when she clasped one massive hand on Nayeli’s back, and the other stumbled but laughed back, pulling her into a tight hug.

“Like I’d even try…”

The moist in their eyes indicating it was equally hard to take one’s leave and to let one go. But Nayeli knew her destiny had been put aside far too long, no pirate captain should be kept this long away from their ship and crew. She left with a promise.

“The Wraith and my axe –”

“I know.”

Not much was said with words, but they knew. And so did Tyril.

Last, the cries from the dispossessed from Morella called the Rogue, and it was his turn to depart. The urgent need to wash away the blood from his hands and move from the horrors that eclipsed part of the brightness of his smiles was too strong and understandable.

Then there were only the two of them. Tyril and Nayeli. They fought side by side, wielding their swords against the wicked and they loved one another with absolute devotion. They shared the kind of love and trust few shall experience, a confidence that the person beside you would take the blow if it meant saving your life, even if you would never comply with such sacrifice.

“A life worth living must be more than sacrifice,” he dared admit one night while they contemplated the night sky, snuggled together in the bedrolls. As an elf from one of the Great houses, Tyril was used to the burden of duty and honor, but since meeting Nayeli, his hear wished more than this. His admission was met with cautious tenderness and a bitter sigh.

“I know not how to be any different… not anymore.”

“Then we learn together.”

VI.

The years slowed her down, and the injury on her leg never healed. A pain her tongue never complained about but was like a thorn deeply pierced into her flesh.

The pain couldn’t be hidden from him. The grimaces and hisses when the cold days came upon them, and the skies downed covering the world with pure whiteness were all that he could see sometimes... Her pained expression creased his brow and filled him with worry – he never stopped worrying about her.

“This?” she asked with a smirk when he insisted on seeing her leg. “Pfft! This is nothing! You should’ve seen the other guy!”

But he’s seen the other guy. He’s seen until the last one of them. It only takes a second for the memories to come to mind. That day at the battlefield, enemies surrounding them, the flicker of light on the blade captured his attention. His eyes followed the blade’s course until it connected with her leg. He ran and he cried her name and the names of all the Gods to allow his blade and magic to save her, to live the whole life they planned for after – an after that seemed unlikely to happen. However, the Gods granted his wish. His flaming blade cut throughout the throng of enemies. Tears streamed down his face at the sight of her crushed leg. But she survived. They survived.

“I did and that is why I wish to see you well.”

With a smirk she would dismiss his worries, and with tender firmness would hold his hand, to prevent him from using his magic on her again.

“I have plenty to spare,” he would say every time, though after using so much of his magic on the battlefields one could never be quite certain of the truthness in those words.

“Do not throw away your time…”

“Caring for you shall never be a waste.”

Pulling his hair back to take a good look at his face, she whispered a tender “thank you”, kissed his temple, and offered to braid his hair after she finished her own. Her smile and warm presence would be enough to soothe his worries. At least for a while, and he would relax while she braided his hair, humming a song from that one time they danced at the tavern.

VII.

When the time to leave the battlefield behind came, they needed a place to call home.

Their first choice was Whitetower. However, the lavishing banquets despite many starving, frivolous excesses, injustices of all sorts, and futility of courtly life were the opposite of their hopes. Nayeli refused being assigned as the new general or pledge her loyalty where her heart did not lie… and Tyil knew in which side her loyalty lied.

The Rogue joined them again, or better yet, they joined him and his efforts to change the lives of those nobody looked after.

A fight worth of their strength, and they were grateful to do so.

Nayeli’s name and fame inspired many, and those many stirred the winds of change, bringing them to the precious streets of the capital city of the kingdom.

The new sovereign hated her – he hated all of them! – and wished her dead. But who would dare kill the heroine of the Realm? Who would dare transform her into a Martyr or a Saint?

A fool king loses his crown and possibly his head; a wise king learns and listens and embraces the changes. The king was not a fool, but he was not wise either.

Like a snake, he used his wits and her loved ones to drive her away. But her absence was not enough to stop the changes from coming.

At dusk, the sticks and stones came, arrows rained down the city, and the king were no more.

That seemed to be the last great evil they would fight and prevail against.

VIII.

From Whitetower they crossed the lands and reached Undermount to set residence, a mistake he is yet to forgive himself for.

For a long time, the elves have lost sight of what truly matters. After the feasts to celebrate their victories came the hatred. The sight of a human amongst them and what their union meant fueled hate and despise towards those who were not their own kind. Despite their efforts and all the changes, Undermount would remain sealed to the outer world.

“Outrage”, some said, “An elf who turns his back to his own kind!”

Others would speculate about the Half-breeds she would bear inside her womb, whispering malicious words more hurtful than any dagger that pierced through her skin.

“Kilvali and Dinvali,” Tyril claimed, but the Council ignored; and soon he got tired of crying his heart out to those who wouldn’t listen nor understand what love and honor truly meant.

Nayeli got tired too. So very tired. Not that she couldn’t take the dirty looks and dirtier words about the intruder who was amongst them. Oh! She could! And she could take most of the gossipers in a fight too, which she did, punching a couple of elves who dared insult her to her face. But fighting day after day and never feeling at home was not the life she wanted.

Her heart longed for more. Her heart longed for home. And there was only one place besides Tyril’s arms that she could ever call by that name.

Returning to Riverbend became her greatest wish. Tyril had followed her to war, and he would follow her anywhere.

At the morning of their departure, Tyril’s father placed his hands on his shoulder, his wise and tired eyes settled on Nayeli before returning to his son’s face.

“Are you certain of that choice?” was the question uttered in elfish in an attempt to not insult the woman a few steps beside his son.

“Absolutely,” was his answer.

“It is not meant to least,” his father sighed. “She shall wither and perish before your eyes.”

“If I am fortunate enough, I will hold her hand until it happens.”

Valir pursed his lips but gave his blessing and bid his son farewell. At least this time he had that chance. Without saying the words, both knew Tyril would not return to his homeland for the next several years.

IX.

The ancient woods that once witnessed the greatness of the Elven Empire at the outskirts of Riverbend became their home.

Across the river, surrounded by the forest, they built a cottage and a new life together. How lovely it was! After almost a decade of battles and adventures, they could rest, they could just be. This was everything he never knew he needed, and she was his everything, his home, his lover, his heart.

The friends who became their family would join them from time to time, or they would cross the lands to visit them, and those years were the happiest they could be.

Years went by like this; and Nayeli’s smile brightened the entire world.

The knowledge Nayeli acquired for so many years helped the villagers and travelers seeking for a cure.

The heroine became the healer, a title that suited her well.

She helped women in their hours of need and brought younglings back from the doors of the kingdom of Death and Oblivion, and this invigorated her. Her strength came from them, from all the people she shared her gift with.

However, despite the happiness, shadows loomed over them. Some were real, others were not.

For a long time, Nayeli claimed to not have a past before being rescued by the farmers at Riverbend. Tyril, however, suspects her mind buried it deep inside, in a chest only her dreams had a key to unlock. The secrets shied away by the light of day were often set free at night.

Many times ever since she took upon sleeping next to him after they shared a narrow fetid bunk at the sea, he studied her features at the dead of night.

Sometimes her dreams seem beautiful and a small smile pulls at the corners of her lips while she mumbles or softly calls her mother. Most of the time, however, what comes out of that chest must be dreadful, if the screams trapped in her throat contorting her face in horror and the unknown language in which she murmurs a string of words like a prayer is any indication of that.

Despite saying she slept better beside him, it took years for Nayeli to truly rest, even after Morella needed no more saviors – at least not the kind that were sent off to wars outside their borders – and a different kind of peace reigned. The Darkness was gone. But the Light seemed to be gone as well; or perhaps it just rested until necessary. One could never know for sure. There were still magic and wonders to be seen, fairies and mermaids and drakes, and no king sitting at the throne at Whitetower and no crown over the head that ruled Morella. The war was over, but not in her dreams. A dagger gifted from the Rogue always tucked under the mattress at the reach of her fingers. Sleep as light as a feather.

Many years after they settled in the woods, the Priestess and the Bard came to them. The leaves were turning sunset colored and raining from the tops of many trees, and the breeze carried the scent of the harvested crops beyond the river, the last of the season.

One afternoon, Nayeli and her brother went to the village, like they always did; fondly, Tyril observed them. Their laughter was the same, only punctuaded by the coughs that left the scrawny man breathless sometimes, and the pace was not like it used to be. The years have not only wrinkled their skin but slowed them down...

Most days, while the others occupied themselves, the Priestess remained inside, curled in an armchair near the fire, like the Nesper sleeping on her lap. Sometimes she’d write on a leather tome, others she’d sip the tea with wistful eyes.

Tyril was the first and perhaps the only one to notice the way the Light was slowly leaving her. A knowing look into his eyes in one of those afternoons confirmed that she knew it too.

Nia, the brave kind Nia.

She knew the risks but chose to use magic and it abbreviated her years. Were she an elf and things would have turned out differently… Not all of Nayeli’s knowledge on medicine and woodlore nor his magic could be of any help.

“Do not tell her,” she pleaded with trembling hands. “I will tell her. Soon. I promise.”

Tyril nodded. It was not his secret to share. Though, looking back, perhaps there was a tint of selfishness in his action, because if he could, he would keep Nay as much as he could in the dark.

Several weeks after they arrived, Nia closed her eyes to never open again in one ice-cold morning surrounded by her dearest friends. With her died the Light in the world, at least from Nayeli’s world.

But it wasn’t the last blow on the fire inside of her.

Two years later, death claimed the Bard.

Kade closed his eyes in the exactly same day Nia had left them. At last, the persistent cough that none of the known herbs could cure stole the air from his lungs, but also from Nayeli's own lungs. Tyril’s still not certain whether Nayeli has really breathed ever since the morning his body returned to dust.

XI.

They settled.

They lived.

They lost.

They loved.

They suffered.

They healed.

In each other arms, whenever he held her tight, it almost felt like all the pieces that were broken could be mended.

With the years, he’s learned what love humans sing and compose poetry about truly meant. She loved him despite of whatever was missing or broken inside of him, or perhaps because of that. Nayeli had been broken too in a way it was not easy to understand. It remained hidden underneath it all, in a place no one was allowed, not even herself. Sometimes, when she fell asleep, some of the pain would spill and her body would shiver and through gritted teeth she’d speak a language he did not recognize and call for names she would never remember in the morning.

The strongest person he ever knew. Her laughter would echo and everybody – actually he would forget the world, lost in her brightness and her beauty. A part of her fire has faded over the years, but Tyril still sees Nayeli, beyond her grieving, the most brilliant star in his sky. Even if her laughs were scarce these past days. Even if her eyes averted his more frequently and she remained unusually quiet.

Tyril appreciate their routine and waking beside her every morning, even during the grimmest days.

This morning, however, when the birds chirped and his eyes fluttered open, he did not find her face. His hand instinctively reached for her side of the bed, and her warmth was long gone.

The elf gets to his feet, taking the blanket with him. The warmness of the fireplace might have lured her in this freezing night.

Quietly, he walks around their home but does not find her by the fireplace nor by the wooden oven at the kitchen.

At last, his eyes contemplate her silhouette surrounded by mist outside. An eerie sight. A bad omen, one could say.

Nayeli does not turn around to face him when the door opens, nor when he steps on the gravel path.

“Nay, my dearest,” he calls her, “is something wrong?”

Without looking at him, she shakes her head, making the untamed coarse hair sway slightly around her face. In the front, there is a gray path where once was exclusively raven black hair, covering her right eye. The shawl over the thin long chemise is not enough to warm her body, like the quivering lips give away.

In silence, Tyril stands next to her, and wraps the blanket around her shoulders.

Even then, she does not look at him. Her eyes are fixed and glossy, lost in her thoughts, staring at the direction where Nia and Kade rest.

“Have you had a nightmare?” he asked softly.

Taking a deep breath, she finally looks at him as if waking up from a dream then averts her gaze.

“The time has come,” she starts, and her voice comes out hoarser than usual, “you must go back to Undermount, Tyril.”

His name on her tongue was like music to his ears since the first time she whispered it between kisses, but now the tone pierces through his heart like a dagger. Her eyes are tired, a sort of tired not caused by one sleepless night.

There is something weighting on her, he has not ignored and has a few theories about the way the humans deal with their mortality.

“Why?”

“We knew this day would come,” she said while starting back to the house.

Instantly, he sprinted after her, not waiting for them to be inside to utter his question. “Because you are older?”

“I am old.” She halted by the door and looked at him over her shoulder. “You are an elf.”

“I have never been anything else in my entire life. Though I would be willing to try for you…”

The humorous reply doesn’t make her smile like it would any other day.

“You have, but –” she cut herself, pulling the blanket around herself even tighter, like she’s trying to brace herself. For a moment the only sounds inside the room are from her steps and the crackling of the fire. “This must end. The elves were right. It was selfish of me to keep you here, away from your own kind. Return to your family. It is time.”

He studies her face, and dares hold her hands in his, calloused and roughened by war and work.

“I am home.”

She pulled her hands away and distanced herself, tumbling on the armchair closest to the fireplace.

“Your father never wanted you to leave,” she said firmly ignoring his words. “He shall be pleased with your return. And so will your sister.”

“He wished me nothing but happiness. And there is no happiness for me away from you.”

“Nonsense.” She grimaces. “There is nothing left for you here. Go.” She waves her hands in a motion one would use with an animal. It hurts. But he fixes his stare on her face. Lines and wrinkles frame her brown eyes and lips. Every smile etched on her skin. None of which were there when they first met. But he has happily mapped each of them over the years. Every line tells a story: a smile, a victory, an ecstasy, a pain, a loss. Too many losses lately. But they both know all the happiness she’s experienced tips the scale in her favor… even if she doesn’t remember it now.

“I have not belonged to Undermount for far too long…” he insisted when her face remained emotionless. “My place is here. With you. Have I not promised to stay?”

Her teeth bury into her lower lip, and she does not face him, finding the fisted hands on her lap more interesting than the words he is saying.

“I release you now from those silly vows I forced you to take. You are free.”

He has been nothing but free all these years. In fact, she freed him from fear and a world he didn’t fit. Before he could say anything, she continued, her voice was so extraordinarily quiet that standing a few feet away, he barely listened to what she is saying.

“You don’t have to wait and see it all wither. Not that there’s much left to see anyway. I wrote Mal. There is a place for me. I’m going to him… There’s nothing left for me here. All the people I – I love… now that Kade…” A hand covered her mouth and the words died inside.

“Is that the reason?” he asked, but there was no answer.

Kneeling in front of her, his hands come to rest gently over her knees. “Do you no longer love me?”

Her hand hastily brushed the tears running down her cheeks, and she opened her eyes to look up at him.

“It’s the opposite. Perhaps if I loved you less…”

Hearing her words caused his heart to skip a beat within its cage, and he took a deep breath. His hands encircled hers, and he brought them to his lips. They are still cold. Nayeli looks too small and tired gazing back at him.

“I am aging, Tyril.”

“I know.”

“Nothing can stop that. You can heal my wounds, but…”

“You will get older. I know.”

One of his hands cups her cheek, and the other caress her hair gently to not disturb the balance of the tiny curls. On the right side, the gray strands are more abundant than the black ones.

“I am not the same,” she murmurs. His thumb wipes the tears streaming down her cheeks. “I will die –”

“You. Me. Everything in this world,” he cut her off, raising to his feet and pulling her up into his embrace.

“You will not for many years... You have barely aged a day.”

Her thumb traces his jaw, and the soft blue skin. Every angle of his face remains the same, sharp like the tip of the blade he used to carry around. Her voice is filled with tenderness when she opens her mouth, “You look as handsome as the first time I saw you...”

“And so are you, Nay.”

“Lying doesn’t suit you, love.”

“Do you believe me that shallow? The life we have together is written on your skin, like poetry. How could I ever find that repulsive?”

She sighed and buried her face in his chest. He caressed her hair and back fondly until her shoulders stopped shaking, then he stepped back. His hands cupped her face, and he pleaded with his eyes that she looked at him, which she eventually did.

“Do you not think I considered your humanity, the brevity of your youth and the days you and I would have together before I offered my heart? You are everything and more. You healed me. You taught me what love is.”

A choked protest died in the tip of his fingers pressed against her lips. Leaning forward, he kissed her cheeks. She closed her eyes, revelling in the warmth and gentleness when he pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “My heart is and will always be yours.” He kissed her lips softly, and whispered, “If you still love me, there is no other place for me in this world.”

“Give the Starfury house the heirs they deserve,” she pressed.

“Alina has provided enough heirs to keep our name and lineage.”

“You still could have the children we dreamed, and I could not give you.” She looked between them, and he pursed his lips.

“Nobody can give themselves what the Gods have denied them.”

“If anyone, the Gods denied me!”

“Do you believe if I leave, I will forget you?”

“You must. You have plenty of years ahead of you.” She pulled back from his embrace and pushed hard against his chest. “Go!”

Tyril remained still, standing in the same place, and she pushed him harder.

“Go,” she hissed through gritted teeth. “Now!”

“You send me off to mourn you and our love while you’re still alive?”

“I wish you to live!” she pushed once more, and his hands grabbed hers and trapped them against his chest.

“I’d rather stay. Do not deny me that privilege, my dearest. If fate allows me, I want to be the one holding your hand when you exhale your last breath, and to send you off to the land of your ancestors.”

“You’ll regret it!” She shook her head, disappointment clouding her eyes. “The time wasted… it’s nonsensical!”

“As you say, I have plenty of time. Therefore, it is my choice how to spend it.”

“Why are you so stubborn?” she hissed, but her gaze no longer had the same fierceness, the fight washing away from her alongside the tears.

“I’ve learned from you, dearest of my heart.”

A small involuntary huff escapes her lips, and he pulls her back into his arms.

“I love you.” In his embrace, she relaxes, and the muscles of her back softens, while he repeats the three words over and over.

Finally, her eyes met his, glistening with unshed tears.

Elfs cannot predict the future, but Tyril is almost certain it will not be the last they’ll have this conversation. Nayeli is too stubborn and apparently loves him too deeply after three decades to wish him an ill-fate. Maybe one day his words will sink in. Maybe one day she’ll believe his promises and his unwavering heart.

“Accept my love and that I’m not leaving you,” he whispered between kisses at the top of her head. “And now, I shall take you back to bed, so we can start this day properly.”

Time is unstoppable, always flowing at its own pace. No one can stop or change its course. Even the foolest creatures of this land knows it.

Nevertheless, sometimes, it almost seems that it stops for a while at will. At least, that’s what Tyril feels when Nayeli, facing him in bed, let her eyes flutter open after he asked her to pretend to go back to sleep and it was almost like watching the sun rising in the horizon, its light brightening the world around her even when she believes to be fading away.

But time does not stop. Everyone knows that.

When her fire goes out in a day he hopes will come many years from now, he wonders if his will flicker and perhaps extinguish too…

How shall he go on living in a world where Nayeli is gone?

Tears threatened to prick at Tyril’s eyes but he blinked them back. For now, he lives in a world where she is, and he’ll bask in the precious moments they do have instead of fighting the inevitabity.

#blades of light and shadow #tyril starfury #tyril starfury x mc #nia ellarious #kade of riverbend #imtura tal kaelen #mal volari #choices fanfic #tw: death #tw: violence #canon compliant

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