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peakyblindersxx · 3 years

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whiskey buisness - john shelby x reader (part 2 of ?)

read part one here!

a/n: hey loves! i'm finishing up school rn, but i had to get this out and i'm about to start working on a tommy request immediately after i upload this. anyways, i'm so excited to post this series, it's incredible and i can't thank my bestie @stxdyblr-2k enough. she is a fucking genius :)

prompt: you can't get john out of your head. lo and behold, here he is.

warnings: fluff, mentions of smut, angsty af, soft john (ugh my heart)

Despite your best efforts, you'd been unable to stop yourself yearning for John Shelby. Your pokey flat now often lay empty; you were far too busy to mope at home due to your career as a personal assistant to a local solicitor who was allied with the Shelby's, attending rallies and lectures with Ada and the drunken nights you'd spend at various mansions, galleries and club openings with the "razor chasers" you'd become friendly with due to their refusal to leave Ada alone. Yet still, in those odd seconds of calm you seized over a cigarette, the first seconds after a bump of Tokyo, when you carefully applied your makeup, styled your hair or bathed, you'd think of him. The way the pads of his fingertips felt on your skin, how he’d muttered in your ear how pretty you looked.

But this was different to when you were dreaming about John at 15; he was no longer the allusive older brother of Ada who had a string of beautiful girls on rotation. He wasn’t a fantasy anymore. He was true flesh and blood, and for a moment he had wanted you.

It would be delicious if the whole situation hadn't left a bitter taste in your mouth. Of course you came back to Brum to only immediately fuck it up. The first night, and already you were so close to ruining everything? Looking back, now that you were so close with Ada once more, now that you knew who John had grown to be, that night was cringe inducing. Luckily, no one had seemed to catch on. Luckily, you thrived in the Small Heath rumour mill once again. All the gossip about you was mainly about your substance use, the lads you were seen curling up with outside nightclubs, your intelligence, your helpful nature, sometimes your questionable politics but that was all. John's was far darker, stories of blood, death and gasoline. Recently, the tales of his conquests had quietened, but only due to the lurid delight taken by the factory workers in talking about the recent blinding of some poor fucker who'd crossed the wrong person. Obviously, a lot of the detail had to be exaggerated for shock value and to boost the Shelby status, solidifying them as notorious throughout Birmingham city and its rural surroundings. There were murmurs everywhere about the violent John Shelby: ruthless, cocky, vengeful. It seemed impossible that the same man who cracked shit jokes just to see you smile, kissed you with so much desperation, and prioritised getting you off first could cause such harm without an ounce of guilt or shame to slow his swagger.

Whispers of war were far more constant, but then again, people would say anything for a reaction. You didn't bring it up with Ada. You refused to (openly) partake in mindless gossip on principle, yet you were hungry for information about him.

***********

You'd long forgotten whose wedding you were at. Some loyal blinder, a close friend of the Shelby's, the occasion calling for a large white marquee to be built onto one of Tommy's gardens, fully staffed with the best chef and service team money could buy (from a London restaurant at short notice; when Finn told you the extortionate figure Tommy had paid, your jaw had dropped). The cake, dress and decorations were stunning; you weren't sure exactly what the groom had done for the Shelby's but you could only assume the worst for what they'd splashed out on him.

However, thinking like that only spoilt your night: you'd realised at your fifth club takeover, now you repeated it like a mantra constantly. You'd quickly learnt every excess the Shelby's granted to those outside their circle were due to some perceived sacrifice for being associated with them. Well, that's what you chose to believe after John had sent a junior blinder to your office with a bouquet, the Monday morning after he turned you down. So, it was best to smile and take the shit, get paid, and get out as soon as possible. You were to keep your head down until then.

Yet, keeping your head down was difficult tonight. Ada had treated you to a shopping trip to London for the occasion this morning, Arthur forcing the junior blinders to tag along next to you on the train and trailing less than two metres behind you for hours. You missed the days when it was just you and Ada. It was far more simple without the stares whenever the two of you stepped out. Ada had gotten used to it, she'd devised her own methods of being completely alone; complex plans involving leaving a window open, knotting sheets into a rope and twisting her ankles. Not that she minded, she reckoned the suffocation of being a Shelby was much worse than a few bruised ankles.

You were wearing a clingy emerald green dress from some fancy French boutique you couldn't even pronounce, the diamond necklace sitting along your collarbone and the jewels dangling through your ears were on loan from Ada. You felt eyes unpicking you the moment you entered the after-party. Your arm was linked through Ada's as per usual, she looked equally stylish in a peacock blue number that set off her eyes, her delicate features perfected with makeup.

You'd quickly found your gaggle and began drinking and dancing the night away. Whispers about snow arose from your table, people disappearing to the toilets to rail a line on the bathroom counter, then to the dance floor or to the lap of the poor fucker who'd hold back their hair while they vomited in just a few hours. At least the Blinders were polite about it. Isaiah would kill them if they weren’t. You'd let your arm be tugged on various bathroom trips, treated among your group like secret missions although you weren't entirely subtle about it.

What you weren't aware of was across the marquee, you were being watched by the three men in your life who you'd never want to see you in this state: the Shelby's.

"Looks like Finn's taken your spot, John." Arthur yelled in John's ear over the loud music, gesturing to the youngest Shelby sat at the table next to you who was staring up at you in complete adoration as you chatted across him to Michael, seemingly arguing with him. By the looks of it, you were winning.

John pulled a face at Arthur. “Fuck off, old man. That'll never happen. Finn’s too young for her." He immediately regretted the words that had fallen out of his mouth, revealing far too much for his comfort.

"It's not impossible."

"He's just not right for her, yeah?"

"And you are?"

John didn't bother to bless him with a verbal response, instead flipping him off and downing the rest of his whiskey. "It's not like that."

"What's it like then? Because from where I'm sitting, it's pretty fucking clear, John." Arthur slurred, glass of whiskey sloshing onto his sleeve.

"You're too gone to even know you're chatting shit." John sneered, standing up, "I'm off for a smoke and some fresh air. Try not to fuck anything in my absence, both of you."

His brothers cursed him out as he left. John took a second to figure out his route, purposefully having to cross your path, gesturing for you to follow him subtly. He was surprised you came trailing after him, telling Michael that you weren’t done yelling at him and you’d be back. When you were both only metres from the marquee, he knew you were fucked. You were instantly bored, begging him for a cigarette, which he lit for you, shaking his head at your state.

"You're a fucking mess, love." He said, mouth sloping attractively to one side.

"Takes one to know one, John-boy. Where are we off to, then?"

"Somewhere fucking quiet, can barely hear myself think. Plus, you need to sober the fuck up, lass." He said, softly, as he walked across the dew soaked grass. You followed, heels in hand, holding your dress up as not to ruin it. He sighed, taking the shoes from your hands and wrapping his blazer around your shoulders, linking your arm through his for stability. He kept the distance respectful, but there wasn’t any denying the thick tension in the summer air between the two of you. Ahead, there was a small stone bench sat at the foot of one of Thomas' manicured gardens, and John offered his hand to help you sit. You made small talk and caught up on each other's lives, and you noted John only seemed to glow when you asked about his kids. He talked at length, the drink seemingly unhinging his jaw. There he was again, the John you knew and had admired for so many years. You could sit here forever, watching his blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight. Yet, it just wasn’t meant to be. You wished you could stop time just for a bit, give you enough moments to memorize the freckles on his skin.

"You know the night I first came home?" The alcohol and snow had loosened your lips. You were teetering on the edge of your boundaries, but you couldn't care enough to hold back.

"The night where absolutely nothing happened?" He joked, raising an eyebrow at you, cautious that you'd randomly brought it up in your state. "Sweetheart, this can wait."

He was warning you. For a second you managed to bite your tongue, but curiosity tipped you over the edge.

"But something nearly happened, right?"

"Y/N. Don't." He warned, his tone icy, suddenly distancing from you, hiding between an emotional boundary which he didn't wish to explore.

"John, it's just us. Can't we even talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about, though. You were off your face then, and now. That's fine. We know where we stand. It can't happen."

"I wanted to. I do want to."

"You don't. Trust me. You need a nice lad who'll marry you and look after you. Just need to keep your nose clean long enough yeah?" He teased, trying to lighten the mood, blue eyes begging you to move on.

Your head turned to face him, your face contorting in a mixture of confusion and irritation. "You don't get to tell me what I want or need. The last thing I want is to marry any lad, nice or not."

"I didn't mean it like that, right? Look, I just meant you deserve better than Shelby scum. You're going places you know? Don't settle for Small Heath." John responded with a pained sigh. He didn’t want to get into it with you; not here, not like this. He'd thought about it, naturally. You were constantly on his mind, yet only problems ever seemed to appear, never solutions. It was best for him to avoid you. Why the fuck did he drag you out here? Horrible idea.

"Your family isn't scum. Where the fuck did you get that from?" Your face was screwed up in genuine rage. "I-"

"Y/N, fuckin’ leave it."

His face had hardened completely now. He'd snapped at you. His voice hadn't raised, it was just the power he spat his order out with. You held up your hands in mock surrender, pointedly taking a cigarette from his front pocket and light it silently, not saying a word.

"Why are you so bothered, anyways?" He asked, breaking the silence like you knew he would. John always had to ask questions.

"Fuck off with that, John. I'm not in the mood."

"What do you mean?" He looked completely lost.

"We nearly had sex. Just sex, nothing else right?"

John remained silent.

"Would it be the worst thing in the world?" You asked, your voice wavering. It was hard enough to get the words out, let alone imagine the response.

"You're far too wasted to chat about this, love."

"John, I’m not-"

"I'm serious. You're fucking mashed like my brothers aren't you? Like all those other fuckers in there." He sounded genuinely angry. In the glow of the sunset he looked so much younger, so hurt and lonely. Why hadn't you noticed before?

He turned to you, eyes widened and shocked at his own outburst. "You're not the only one gone yeah? Ignore me, I'm fucked, sorry."

You reached out your hand and linked your fingers through his in silence, the warm evening wind ruffling your hair and dress, blocked from your skin by John's suit jacket which was wrapped around your shoulders. Not that anyone would notice or care. As long as Ada wasn't with you, you could disappear for hours without any alarm. There you sat in the tranquil last few moments of the day, your hand linked with John's, both beyond tipsy. You weren’t thinking properly but it felt right. You felt safe. You didn't want to have to return to the chaos of the party, to have to catch up on who your friends were currently trying to screw. None of that seemed to matter anymore.

Was it too much to ask for something to be simple? Maybe you didn't have to fuck him. Maybe just these small moments were enough. You laughed at the thought when it crossed your mind; neither you nor John were known for consistency or stability in relationships, you being admittedly rather inexperienced, only having been with a few men, and he had his fair share of escapades. But he was just so different. You wouldn't admit that he'd gotten your attention in any way than purely sexually (which surprised you to admit) and for fun, but you genuinely enjoyed his presence.

He was right though. It wasn't a good idea at all to hook up. There was far too much baggage for both of you to make it worth it.

Just once?

You glanced over at John. He rolled his eyes at you, but the edges of his lips were slightly upturned, his dimples faintly peeking through his defined cheeks.

Just once couldn't hurt.

***

The sky was streaked with shades of gold, amber and blood. John could feel the friction from your knee barely knocking against his, the pressure putting him on edge. In fairness, he had drunk heavily, and that's what happens when you let your guard down around beautiful women. He couldn't believe you had told him you wanted to have sex with him still. He'd chalked the whole situation down to a drunken mistake that would have progressed into a far more significant drunken mistake. Ada would never forgive him if he went for another of her mates. Especially Y/N. No matter if he said that Y/N could be different, that you wasn't just another conquest. But who'd believe him?

Far better to keep his mouth shut.

Far better to play safe.

As you were called back to the party by the gaggle of girls John vaguely recognised from hanging off the arms of other blinders, he realised (despite his state) that you were right. Having sex with you wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. In fact, it might be one of the best.

Just once?

He watched your figure disappear back into the marquee, waiting for you to turn back and look for him. You do. He would have done the same if it was him.

Maybe just once wouldn't hurt.

***

to be continued!

#john shelby fluff #john shelby #john shelby x reader #john shelby imagine #john shelby reader insert #peaky blinders fluff #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders

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imagine-this-fandom · 3 years

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The Rescue: BNHA x Fem! Reader- Black rat snake

the rescue intro: here

Leading you back into the main section of the shop, she released your hand and put Izuku into a nearby cage. Turning back to face you, she pulled out her phone.

“I just need to double-check something with the owner of the shop real quick. He likes to hear about any adoptions I supervise from a particular group of animals we have. You go ahead and look around while I confirm the one I have in mind “

You offered her a smile and a nod before turning to look around. Wandering the aisles of the store, you couldn't help but relax. There was some music playing in the background, too low for you to recognize the lyrics. You noted with amusement that your bird friend, Hizashi, was perched by the radio, bobbing along to it enthusiastically. You started to make your way towards him when a flicker of movement caught your attention from the corner of your eye. Turning to face the shelves of glass tanks, you searched them for the smooth movement that had captured your gaze. Perusing the tanks nearby, you were excited to find the one in the corner occupied. Inside was a large black snake. He was beautiful. Shiny black scales decorated the majority of his body save for his stark white underbelly and chin. It was hard to tell how long he was because he was wrapped up on a branch, coiled tightly as he watched you unblinking.

Tilting your head, your eyes scanned over the little sticker on the corner of the tank telling you his name and breed.

"Dabi, huh? Whoever named you was absolutely trying to be edgy," you crouched so your face was level with the tank and you could see him better. "Dabi is the name of a super dangerous villain, you know?"

Dabi watched you silently, serpentine tongue flicking in annoyance. He was used to the stares and the gawking from other store patrons, but that didn't mean he enjoyed it. You at least weren't tapping on the glass and whining when he didn't do anything interesting. Still, to him, you were a temporary distraction in the long borning sameness his days had turned into. He cursed the day he got involved with the league of villains and the quirk experiments that Shigaraki's "master" put into effect.

When Inko came to find you, she rounded the corner to see you sitting in front of the snake, mirroring his movements and sticking your tongue out in time with his. To be honest, she was a bit nervous about this arrangement, but Nezu had insisted you take the villainous young man home with you. Something about personalities and the change he needed or something like that. Still, if you were somehow the key to breaking the effects of the quirk like Nezu expected then it was worth the worry.

"I see you've found him all on your own!"

You whipped your head around to look at her in shock.

"Wait, a snake? Aren't they super hard to care for?"

"Not really, especially his breed," She answered calmly, offering you her hand to help you off the floor. "snakes are good pets, even if they look intimidating."

Taking her hand, you allowed her to pull you from your kneeling position. Looking back at the snake, you couldn't deny that he was interesting. You always thought snakes were really cool, and with some research, they could be really good pets. Besides, he was the one Inko wanted you to take home, and she knew so much more about him. You could trust her on this, and you honestly wanted to.

"If you help me, I will happily take him home. But you have to give me lots of info about him so I can do research. Okay?"

"It's a deal."

Inko helped you gather supplies for your new pet, making idle conversation and giving you tips on how to properly care for Dabi.

"Be very careful when you handle him, dear. He's got a mean temper and he's nipped me a couple of times. He comes from a not-so-friendly background so he's mistrusting. "

You nodded slowly, expression falling at her words. You would have to be very careful, but you were going to earn his trust no matter what. Inko noted your determined expression as she put supplies into a cart for you, a small smile tugging at her lips. Maybe Nezu was right, you could handle this. Perhaps there was hope for Dabi yet.

Once you had successfully gathered all the possible tools you would need, Inko fetched a pair of heavy-duty gloves and a snake hook. Carefully, she transferred the irritated snake into a bucket to transport him in before quickly latching the top.

"You'll want to make sure his container is firmly latched once you get him home. He's a bit of an escape artist. "

You were a bit concerned due to all the warnings given, but you were more determined than ever to take good care of the snake now within your care. He was going to feel loved, like it or not. Giving her a nod, you carefully took the container from her, cradling it close to your chest to give him any extra warmth you could grant him for the cold journey home.

Inko shooed you out, eager for you to get home before it got any darker or colder. You hugged her tightly before stepping out into the cold with your new pet.

Luckily, the trek home didn't take very long and you found yourself at your apartment door before you knew it. Stepping inside, you quickly set to heat up the space. You weren't taking any chances in keeping your snake healthy.

"I'll get you settled as soon as I can, buddy. Just hold on for me."

Setting the container aside, you quickly got to work setting up his tank. While you were focused on the task at hand, you missed the lid of the container lifting as Dabi pushed out of his temporary cage. Slithering out, he relished his momentary freedom. While he was well aware that he couldn't escape in this form, that doesn't mean he wasn't going to cause as much mischief as he possibly could in the process.

While you were distracted, he explored the apartment. He had to admit, the change in perspective from when he was human was disorienting. As a human, he stood at five foot nine, but as a snake, he was mere inches off the ground. Because he was a python, he found that climbing wasn't too difficult, so he quickly made his way up a nearby chair to settle on the counter and get a better vantage point. Surveying his surroundings, he noticed with gathering annoyance that his new home belonged to a hero fan. You had various merch such as an allmight mug and a red hawks wing patterned blanket. Still, at least he hadn't seen anything flame patterned. You at least didn't have the worst taste in that regard.

As he looked around, you finished setting up his tank. Looking back towards where you left him, you stiffened, panic filling your veins. The container was clear, and you could clearly see it was missing a snake. Slowly, you rose to your feet, trying to quell the panic invading your mind.

"Dabi? Where'd you go?" trapping your lip between your teeth, you started scanning the floor.

Dabi watched with amusement as you searched frantically for him. He could tell it was going to be fun to tease you. Had he been in human form, he would have called you out for your pointless panic.

'I'm right here, stupid girl,' he hissed, knowing you wouldn't be able to understand him, but wanting to express the sentiment regardless. Slithering to the edge of the counter, he perched there ` and hissed softly to get your attention.

Hearing the strange noise, you were shocked to see the reptile on your counter. The tank he had been in didn't do him justice. He was easily five feet long now that you could see him stretched out. While this situation was someone's worst nightmare, you couldn't help but catch your breath. You had never considered snakes to be all that pretty, but Dabi managed to be. The black of his scales was onyx against your counter The white scales of his underbelly just barely showed on his sides, a striking contrast. The most obvious separation of color was at his jaw, the underside bright white as if someone had pieced two colors together there.

You broke out of your thoughts to find the snake coiled around a pillar by your counter, now exactly eye level with you.

"Sorry, you got bored waiting for me. But your new tank is finished. Now you have a nice comfy place to sleep."

He gave you an unimpressed look. He would have rolled his eyes if he could. He was expecting more of a freak out instead of the weird half-smile you gave him while standing completely still for like 15 seconds. Weirdo. He pulled his focus back to the present as he felt your hand close gently around his middle. Jerking back, he bit you. The yelp that sounded made him cringe internally, but he steamrolled over the small part of him that felt remorse. He was determined to get rid of any trace of that if he wanted to move forward as a villain. Still, he didn't take pride in the blood that was welling up on your hand, that was more toga's thing.

You clutched your hand to your chest, looking back at him with wide eyes. Backing up until you were out of his reach should he decide to go for a longer bite, you looked down at the red beading up from the tiny pinpricks on your hand. It didn't hurt that much and had mostly just surprised you. However, you were understandably a bit freaked out. You checked over your injury before pouting at Dabi, regaining some of your confidence now that the adrenaline was fading.

"Well, that wasn't very nice, Mr. grumpy scales. I just wanted to get you to your tank." skirting around him, you made your way into the small kitchen area. Keeping your gaze trained on Dabi, you went about washing your hands to try and disinfect the bite. It wasn't deep, but you weren't about to risk getting sick. Before long, you had the small wound clean and bandaged. However, this left you with the task at hand that had gotten you bit in the first place, getting Dabi to his tank.

"Now how are we gonna do this, my little spit-fire? I can't exactly leave you to roam the house, but I don't want a matching snake bite piercing for my other hand."

'whatever woman, it's your problem, not mine' Dabi watched you, tongue flicking lazily as he waited for you to decide your next move. He had to admit, you were more fun to mess with than the Midoriya lady. He always got chewed out by the various occupants of the store whenever he tried to cause trouble for her. Here, it was just you and him and he could be as much of a jerk as he wanted. It's not like he expected you to interact with him much anyway, so why waste time playing the well-behaved pet?

While he amused himself with his thoughts, you remembered the stick Inko had used to transfer him back at the store and recreated it with your broom handle. Dabi was not expecting the sudden change of perspective when you scooped him up, so he didn't think about resisting. Gently placing him in the bottom of the tank, you slid the handle out and carefully latched the tank lid.

"There we go Dabi. Sleep well. Tomorrow should be less stressful and you can take some time to settle in." You offered him a smile, a brief light in the dark living room before you retreated to your room. Dabi watched you go in disgruntled annoyance before settling down, knowing it was pointless to stay up and agonize about the strange day. Curling around himself until he was arranged in a neat little coil, he drifted to sleep.

~~~~~ "Dabi!!!! How did you get up there?" You stared wide-eyed, mouth agape at your snake. You had been living with him for just over two weeks now, but he still managed to surprise you. Right now, he was lazily draped over the top of a bookshelf in your living room. If he could emote, you would have easily seen a cheeky grin adorning his smug face.

"How, I... You're impossible!" You threw up your hands, not having the mental stamina to deal with his shenanigans for the day. "Fine, if you want to be tall, far be it from me to stop you."

You gave him a triumphant look before turning your back to him.

Unbeknownst to you, he was waiting for an opportunity and you had just given him the perfect one. He carefully stretched out over the edge of the bookshelf and let himself fall around your shoulders, his tail wrapping around your bicep to steady him. Obviously, you screamed and tried to dislodge him in a panic. The shrill sound hurt his ears, but the surprise he saw was worth it. If you could have seen your face, your eyes had been wide and crazy and he hissed out a laugh as you finally settled down.

Your heart was still beating in your throat but you quickly realized that it was just Dabi coiled around you. His cold scales against the bare skin of your neck and the foreign weight had been terrifying in the moment. You moved slowly, considering his sharp teeth that he had no qualms about using. He was a strange animal. He hated being handled but would take every opportunity to antagonize you. Still... he had grown on you. However, that was horrifying, and had he not been more secure, you would have flung him away.

You instead glared at the reptile, breath still heaving as you recovered.

"That was rude Dabi!" A pout formed on your lips, "You know, you could have been hurt. That was reckless. Also, you nearly gave me a heart attack."

You watched him warily. You didn't think he would bite you again, but he was unpredictable so you moved carefully. You slowly reached out with the arm opposite the one he was wrapped around and carefully ran a finger over the scales on his back, enjoying the smooth and cool feeling of his scales under your fingers.

The feeling was alien to Dabi, but not uncomfortable. While he didn't like people touching him, your touch was featherlight and gentle. There was no promise of pain behind it, no expectation, just softness, and curiosity. He froze at the contact, unsure how to respond to the touch. In the past, he was faced with extremes. Always too hot, too rough, too painful, too much, and too expectant.

But your touch was gentle. You were soft, warm rather than scalding, gentle and careful, and...caring. Despite his behavior and lashing out, you stayed patient with him. You confused and irritated him to no end. Still, he supposed he could endure your touch for a little while longer. 'it's just because I'm a snake now. I'm drawn to her warmth' he muttered to himself, a soft hiss all that you heard.

Without knowing his true thoughts, you took his response as displeasure and pulled away quickly.

"Sorry spitfire, I didn't mean to bother you. I'll keep my hands to myself then," You started towards his cage, "let's get you put away, and then I'll leave you be."

Without even thinking about it, he tightened his hold on your arm slightly. You shot him a surprised look before deciding it was your imagination and carefully untangling him from your arm and placing him in his tank. You latched it and gave him a small smile and wave before walking away, going to the couch to give him space.

Meanwhile, Dabi was having a mental battle with himself. He knew that it had felt nice to be near you, but he was confused as to the why. He decided that he froze because he was used to people being too scared of him to caress him so casually. Still, a part of him, a part he tried to bury was convinced that he was avoiding the real reason. Looking back at you, he felt warm and confused. The warmth wasn't painful like the blue of his quirk, but rather, soothing. It calmed him yet made him feel funny all the same. Perhaps this is what true annoyance felt like, anger at being unable to faze you. He narrowed his gaze as much as this form would allow and glared back at you. He fell back on one of the few emotions he allowed himself and stewed in a fit of quiet anger.

Your skin prickled lightly as you felt his unblinking gaze on you. Turning your head from the book in your hands, you offered him a small smile, eyes soft. It was a direct opposite to his hard eyes and he was a bit taken aback but didn't let it show. The moment lasted only a few moments before a twinkle of mischievousness lit your eyes. Leaning forward slightly, you brought your fingers to your lips and blew the grumpy animal a kiss, bursting into giggles when he jerked back, affronted by your action.

You rolled back on the couch, heaving with laughter at the simple but funny reaction. Your eyes scrunched with mirth as an ungraceful snort left your mouth before you were able to recover, shoulders still shaking as you righted yourself. Looking back at the tank, your expression was bright with humor, cheeks red from the laughter.

"Oh come on, it was a kiss Dabi, it wouldn't have hurt you. " You made your way in front of him and crouched to his level. "Alright, I'm sorry for scaring you, but hey, payback's a *****. "

A broad smirk formed as you watched him flick his tongue in annoyance. "If that startled you so much, maybe I'll just have to spend more time with you so you're used to my antics."

He watched incredulously as you dragged a chair to the table his tank rested on and settled on it, watching him with elbows on your knees and chin resting in your palms.

"There. Now we can get to know each other. I'm afraid we got off on the wrong foot. " You gave a little bow from the chair before straightening. "I, am (y/n). I moved here from America, and my quirk is the ability to resist other quirks."

He slid to the front of the tank, interested in any information he could glean from this strange encounter. You were the only one he could interact with, so he might as well know a bit about you to use against you later if he ever turned human again.

'Now what, huh? You can't understand what I'm saying so you look pretty stupid right now. ' he spoke, but only hisses reached your ears. You pretended to listen intently regardless.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you Dabi. What's that? You're from here in Japan? Well, I must say, my accent is atrocious compared to you." You laughed, winking conspiratorily. "And what's your quirk? Spitfire? Do tell what that's like."

'You are by far the strangest person I have ever met and if we met when I was human, I'd squish you like a bug. And what's with the nickname being my quirk? animals don't have quirks, idiot.'

Not for the first time, Dabi wished he had arms again. He had to settle for flicking his tail with annoyance rather than punching the glass as he would have preferred. Still, you kept talking, oblivious to his annoyance.

'Spitfire huh? What name fits you then? I could just call you bug. You're annoying like one. Firefly then. You're obnoxiously sunny and useless.'

He smirked to himself, proud of his choice, and let you ramble on. The conversation was all about you and your job and favorite heroes. Everything and more than he wanted to know was shared with him. Still, it was better entertainment than staring at the tank in silence so he was grateful for it in a small measure. He didn't realize how intently he had been listening until you stopped. He straightened as he heard your voice waver for the first time in the half-hour you had been talking to him. Turning his reptilian eyes to you, you had changed demeanor completely. You had gotten to the family section of your story. Inhaling and pushing forward, you forced a fake smile that made his heart twist in something he told himself was disgust rather than sympathy.

"I have family, I suppose. I mean, they're still alive that is. But... Since I decided to move, they don't want anything to do with me," you cleared your throat, having not really taken time to talk aloud about it and process it fully and getting more choked up than you thought you would. "They think I'm an idiot for leaving. Considering my quirk, they thought I might as well not have one. They didn't think it was safe for me here and that it was a betrayal to leave them for my own dreams rather than their expectations."

You weren't looking at the tank anymore, instead focusing on the pale carpet at your feet, trying to distract from the feeling of hurt that had filled you so suddenly.

"They uh, they wanted me to be a hero. " A humorless smile flitted across your face briefly. "Their quirks were quirk paralysis and forcefield. They thought I would get some ability that could be used to save people. But no... I can only save myself. And that's only if they attack me with a quirk. I can still get hurt from falls, weapons, all that fun stuff. I disappointed them. Because I was born wrong, I took away their dreams of being a good child." You swallowed thickly, blinking hard to suppress the stinging in your eyes as angry and hurt tears filled them.

Dabi watched, transfixed by this girl who was so similar yet so different. Yet with all you had gone through, you hadn't turned bitter You still liked heroes despite your inability to join them. You were not what he expected and he suddenly didn't want you to stop talking. He needed to know more. Unfortunately for him, you were emotionally drained and had gone quiet.

Standing, you wiped your eyes with the heels of your palms before offering him a watery smile, trying to mask any hint of the sadness that had just consumed you.

"Kind of went off the deep end there! sorry about that. it's getting late, so I'll let you sleep. "

Before he could make any move or sound to protest, you had vanished into your room, the light switched off and plunging the room into darkness.

~~~~~~~~~

Ever since that day when you talked to Dabi, he had been friendlier to you. It was subtle at first, and you had to pay close attention to notice any difference. Dabi was less hesitant to spend time with you and as time went on, he became comfortable with you handling him. Now, months after taking him into your care, he was always with you around the house. He was still a jerk and nipped you on occasion, but he never broke skin anymore.

He had taken to riding around on your shoulders, wrapped loosely there with his head resting on your collar bone. You would continue about your day with him resting there, occasionally you would reach up and stroke him. You talked with him often, having one-sided conversations as you cooked, whispering to him conspiratorily as you commented on the various actors on tv. Once you even took him to the store with you without realizing it. It wasn't until the cashier nearly screamed that you realized you had forgotten to put him back in his tank. You could have sworn he was laughing at you on the way home, hiss coming out in disjointed little huffs.

Dabi was, of course, amused by your mistake. He wrapped himself around your neck, applying light pressure as if to remind you that he was in fact still there as you hurried home. 'I was wondering how long it would take for you to realize. I didn't think you would actually make it to the store, firefly. How unobservant can you be, I'm a five-foot snake.' He tickled the base of your throat with his tongue, grinning to himself as you shuddered.

"Hey! Stop that, you wouldn't want me to drop you. I promise the pavement is not as forgiving as the carpet in my apartment." You gently pushed his head away, tucking him into the hood on your jacket.

Your shoe caught on a rock as you passed an alleyway, briefly causing you to stumble. You nearly sent Dabi flying from his place on your shoulder.

"Hah! See? Careful." laughing, you settled him back in place, patting him goodnaturedly

'real graceful there, firefly. Trying to seduce the pavement? Because you almost kissed it. I could do better and I don't even have legs.' As much as he teased, he couldn't help but be endeared to your clumsiness.

"careful there, girlie. That could have been a bad fall. Wouldn't want to get that pretty face marked up."

You whipped your head around and looked owlishly at the man who had spoken. He was in the alleyway beside you, leaning against the brick with a cigarette. He watched you lazily, eyes trailing over you with something akin to appraisal.

Stepping back, you gave a tight nod and a forced chuckle.

"Yeah, really lucky there. um," Shifting uncomfortably, your eyes darted towards home before hurriedly returning to the mystery man, not sure you wanted to let him out of your sight, "I'll just be going now, can't keep my boyfriend waiting." You ducked your head and swiftly kept walking, the feeling of his eyes following you leaving a gross slimy feeling crawling up your spine.

Once you were out of range and you couldn't feel his gaze again, you took off for home. Your hands went to your throat, holding Dabi steady as you sprinted. When you arrived at the apartment, your breathing was heavy and punctuated by the occasional gasp. Dabi could feel your pulse fluttering against his side frantically. Once you were inside, you dropped your bags and whipped the door shut. Fumbling with the locks, you didn't relax until all of them were secured tightly. You rested your forehead against the wood, heaving quietly as you tried to relax and give the adrenaline a chance to wear off. You wouldn't have reacted like this normally, but something about that man had activated your fight or flight response.

Dabi watched you carefully, not admitting that he was concerned by that display. Stretching out to get a better look at you, he was relieved when your eyes found his form and focused on him rather than the blank distance you had been occupied with before.

"Sorry about that Spitfire, I bet that was a wild ride." Standing, you slid off your jacket and carefully unwound him from your neck, "And hopefully, you will never have to experience that ever again."

Dabi curled around your arm, his weight a comfort that helped ground you as you calmed. Setting him down on the counter, you turned your attention to the bags you had abandoned by the door.

"What do you think that was about?" You wrinkled your nose in distaste, as you remembered the man. You didn't like how he looked at you, " I think I lost him, so we should be alright."

You focused on putting the groceries away and started rambling about the movie you were looking forward to that was in production.

"Oh you would love it, it has my favorite actress in it and I always liked the story. I can't wait to see what direction they take with it."

You looked back at the snake as if to ask his opinion before nodding sagely.

"Ah yes, I agree, they might absolutely ruin the storyline by adding an unnecessary romantic subplot."

Dabi mentally rolled his eyes at your antics. he may act like it didn't affect him, but he quite enjoyed it when you talked to him. You treated him like a trusted friend. He adored when you smiled at him. Throughout his life, he had never had anyone smile at him as you did. You looked at him like he was the most important thing in your life and if he were human, he probably wouldn't be able to conceal the awed expression that would follow just one of your smiles.

He listened intently as you worked, mind wandering as he thought of what would change if he were human. He'd get to see your cute annoyed pout more often, that'd be for sure. He would tease you mercilessly, but he knew you would respond in kind, probably teasing him back and poking fun right back.

Still, it was better this way, at least in his mind. This way, he could actually be around you without scaring you off. His burns would likely intimidate you if his reputation as a villain didn't. No, he was better off as a snake. Maybe it was selfish to pine after you this way, but he wouldn't have to face your true reaction to him this way. The possibility of actually being able to be with you as a human and you rejecting him was not something he would be willing to face. He supposed being a snake had that small advantage. You would never know what an awful person he was and leave him, to never grace him with that annoyed look or that silly nickname. Besides, he couldn't care about you, not really. He told himself that he didn't have emotions anymore. Those feelings died the same night Touya did.

He was pulled from his thoughts when you picked him off the counter, carefully coiling him around your arm. You placed a quick kiss on the top of his head before you lowered him into his tank. Laughing, you tried to slide him off your arm, amused by his reluctance to let go.

"Dabi, let me go! I gotta go to bed!"

You succeeded in removing him from your hand before bidding him goodnight, not bothering to close the tank as he always managed to escape anyway. He watched you go, only averting his eyes when you passed from his view. Settling down to rest, he briefly let himself think of what happened next. Maybe Dabi died too. When he became a snake, he couldn't return to being human, he couldn't return to being Dabi. Maybe this version of him, this one could be allowed to love. From afar of course. He sighed and focused on your door, letting himself drift as he surrendered to sleep.

~~~~~~~~

Work had been difficult today. You were relieved to put up your apron as your shift ended. the day actually reminded you of the day you had stumbled across the pet store. That day, while awful in the beginning, became one of the best days of your life. If it hadn't been for the difficulties of the day and the need to stay late, you wouldn't have had to brave the store and find that amazing pet store. You smiled to yourself as you reminisced on that day and finding Dabi. The thought of getting back to your apartment lifted your spirits and you were quick to clock out and leave work. There was a spring in your step as you followed the familiar route home, mind full with a plan forming of how you were going to spend your evening with your best friend and pet.

Unfortunately, your happy mood was exactly what got you in trouble. You hadn't been paying as much attention as you should have been, mind focused too much on what came next than on your surroundings. Before you knew it, a hand reached out from the alley you had rightly fled the day before. The man from before tugged you harshly into his chest, hand clasped tightly to your mouth while the other held a knife to your throat.

"We meet again, girlie. Now just be real quiet for me and you'll be alright. "

Your blood ran cold as you listened to his commands, following him into the shadows as he led you further away from the safe and welcoming light of the street. It disappeared along with your hope as he pulled you harshly along. He led you through a maze of alleyways and shortcuts for what felt like forever. A dilapidated warehouse rose in front of you and he harshly tugged you inside the dingy building. You wanted to fight, but he wasn't using a quirk. You could survive a knife to the throat if it was a quirk controlling it, but a plain mugging? You were still vulnerable. You felt your heart sink when he removed his hand. He didn't trust you, so that meant he was confident any sound you made would not reach any ears that mattered.

"What do you want from me? I'm no one special, I'm not useful to you, why would you take me?" You searched his face frantically, looking for some explanation.

He laughed and pushed you into a chair, attaching your wrists behind it with a rope. The practiced movement made you grit your teeth as you realized that the ease of it meant you weren't the first he'd done this to. Biting down fear, you glared at him.

"Let me go! What are you planning with me?" You spit your words, the fear fading to anger at the horrible man. You pulled against the rope as he stepped away but it held tight.

"You, my dear, are going to be a beautiful addition to my collection," you craned your neck as he circled you, that same wrongness from that first day insisting that you keep him in your vision.

"you see, my quirk allows me to identify the quirks of others. The more powerful it is, the more vague the details I get, but yours is fascinating."

Leaning forward, he grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him, eyes dancing with amusement at the anger and uncertainty that shone in your expression.

" I can't see your quirk. But... You're not quirkless. Tell me," he squeezed your cheeks, amused expression turning dark, "What are you hiding from me, girlie? I have quite a few buyers who would be interested in a pretty young thing like you, but I need to see if you're worth my time."

Narrowing his eyes, he let your chin go and stepped back.

"Tell me your quirk or I'll have to mark up that pretty frame. I don't like to resort to torture, but I assure you, I am well-practiced in it. "

You clenched your jaw and lifted your chin, eyes sparking in defiance.

"You'll be caught. The heroes will find us. I'm sure of it. You will be found." Your gaze faltered slightly as he erupted into laughter at your expense.

"Silly girlie, the heroes won't find you here. And if they do, I'll be long gone by then. No one knows to look for you, you're all alone, and if you don't cooperate, you'll scream and no one but me will get to hear the pretty sound." After checking your bindings one last time, he smirked at you and unceremoniously tied a gag in your mouth. "How about I let you think about what happens next, see if some time alone will make you more responsive." And just like that, he walked away, leaving you in the center of the cold warehouse, tied to a chair.

Once he was out of sight, you frantically fought to free yourself, crying out as you rubbed your wrists raw in an effort to slip them free of the rope. Unfortunately, they held true and tight. You bowed your head after what felt like hours of struggling and let yourself rest, building up strength for what could be a fruitless fight.

~~~~~~~~

Dabi waited less than patiently for you to come home from work. You were late and he was not pleased in the slightest. He slid around the bottom of his tank, glancing back at the door every few seconds. He worked his jaw irritably, frustration growing with each moment that passed. You were supposed to be here and he didn't like the breach in routine.

The room grew dark as the sun traveled across the sky, vanishing behind the horizon along with Dabi's anger. The frustration that had been building in the pit of his stomach had soured. Now worry was his prevalent feeling. You had never stayed out this late before. He slipped out of his cage You never latched it anymore because he was always escaping anyway. slipping onto the floor, he made his way through the house, wondering if he had somehow missed you coming home in the first place. Alas, there was no sign of you and as he tasted the air, he could find no trace of you.

Worry ate at him as the hour grew later and later. Thoughts of possible outcomes flooded his mind with unpleasantness. His frantic thoughts slowed when the sun peeked into the living room. Any doubt that something was wrong was gone. he growled and threw his small body at the door, furious that he could do nothing. 'She's in trouble and I'm useless! I can't just sit around and do nothing! The woman I love is in danger somewhere and I'm a ******* snake!'

The anger in him boiled in his veins and he felt odd. With a loud pop, his gaze was now level with the doorknob rather than the bottom of the door. He blinked slowly as he took stock of what just happened. He was human again. He grimly took stock of himself, making sure all features were accounted for before realizing the implications of being human again. He had been thinking about you when he transformed, how much he needed to be human again to help you. He waved away the thought with irritation. He wasn't ready to believe you had broken the quirk's effect on him like some ******** fairy tale curse. Still, thinking on this brought him back to the matter at hand.

He searched your apartment for clothes before bolting out the door. He searched all the places you talked about, looking for clues to your whereabouts.

His search had lasted all morning and he was getting desperate as the evening approached with no real solution. He ducked into an alleyway before pausing. He recognized this place... This is where you had tripped just the day before last. He had been focused on you then, but he remembered that a man had talked to you here. Dabi thought of how terrified you had been and hoped you weren't scared now, where ever you were. About to give up on this section of the city, he nearly tripped outside the alleyway. He kicked the object in anger and it ricocheted off the brick and pelted him in the leg. He felt his mouth grow dry in horror when he noticed exactly what the object was. It was your nametag from work.

Picking it up, his fears were confirmed as he looked it over. You had been taken by the man from the alleyway. A deep growl of anger escaped him and he had to tuck the nametag into his pocket for fear of incinerating it in his anger. He turned quickly and strode back into the street. Hopefully, Giran was available because he had a favor to cash in. He would locate the man who took his little firefly, and if they had harmed you... well, only ash would remain when he was done.

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

You glared at your captor through tired eyes, eyes stinging from the punch you had received after insulting him.

"Now really, all I want is a measly bit of information. Your quirk, what is it."

You closed your eyes and relaxed your expression before giving him a weary look. Bowing your head, you mumbled under your breath.

Taishi, as he had introduced himself, stepped forward to hear better. "What was that? Speak up."

You repeated your words, quiet still. It was spoken as if you lacked the strength to speak louder. Growling in annoyance, he leaned closer to hear.

Inhaling deeply, you waited until he was close, " I said... **** YOU!" You screamed at him, kicking him between the legs with all the force you could muster. As he fell to the ground, your chair tipped over from the force of the kick and your vision swam as your head bounced on the floor.

Taishi rose, venom in his gaze as he kicked you sharply in the stomach, glowering in rage as you yelped.

"You could have done this the easy way, but no! You just had to be a *****!" He readied a blade as he stood over your prone body.

You slammed your eyes shut in preparation for the pain, but it never came. There was the sound of fire coming to life, and an uncomfortable stream of hot air brushed over you accompanied by a horrid stench and the screams of your captor.

Daring to open your eyes, you were met with a strange sight. A man you had never seen before stood above your captor, his hands aglow with a blue flame. Covered in burns and staples, there was no question in your mind who it must be, the villain Dabi.

Once he was certain Taishi was not going to get up again, he turned to you. His turquoise eyes locked onto yours and you could see fury burning in them. But as he looked you over, they softened a bit, and concern mixed with the anger. As he approached, you tried to scoot backward away from him, a whimper escaping unbidden.

Dabi froze at your obvious fear. He regarded you for a moment as he tried to figure out what to do. He was furious, but he knew you needed him calm instead if you were to trust him. Closing his eyes, he extinguished his hands and held them up in a placating gesture.

"Shh... It's okay firefly, I'm not going to hurt you." He hated that you looked at him with such fear. You had blood running down your face, lip obviously split from a punch, and various bruises and cuts on your arms added to your pitiful state. Still, you were strong, and he knew that if he didn't diffuse the situation, you would try to fight.

"Are you alright, firefly? Anything broken?" He scanned you for pressing injuries relieved to find nothing too major. He knelt on the floor beside you as you strained to look back at him, still freaked out and confused.

"What are you doing? Why are you here? What do you want from me?" your questions were rushed as you tried to make sense of what was happening. You hissed in pain and closed your eyes tightly as he freed your wrists, fresh blood welling from the raw skin as the rope agitated it one last time. You were weaker than you wanted to admit, but it didn't seem like the villain was going to do anything.

Dabi tossed the chair away and gently pulled you onto your back, cradling your upper body in his lap as blue eyes scanned over your face. His shoulders sagged in relief and he pulled you close.

" Don't you ever scare me like that again, idiot!" He scooped you up and walked out of the warehouse with purpose before shouting for someone named Kurogiri.

You clutched him in panic as a dark void opened in front of you and you both vanished inside you screaming as you tucked your face into his shoulder.

Dabi rolled his eyes as he stepped out of the matching portal in your apartment.

"Stop screaming, you'll get a noise complaint." He carried you into your room and laid you on the bed before disappearing to get a first aid kit while you glanced around in shocked bewilderment.

"But, how? Home, and the dark, and you're a villain. " This day had sucked, and you were fairly certain you were having a mental breakdown. "What is going on?" You wailed, dropping your head into your hands as your head pounded.

"I brought you home, firefly. Also, I'm you're pet snake. Surprise. Now sit still so I can patch you up." He plopped down on the bed beside you and immediately began tending to your wounds while all you could do was stare in disbelief.

"You're insane. Or I'm dead. I suppose those are both viable options." Still, something about his words rang true.

"If you're actually Dabi, my snake, what's something only he would know?"

Dabi rolled his eyes and fixed you with a scowl but stayed quiet in thought as he contemplated an answer. You searched his gaze, almost challenging him to say something to prove he wasn't crazy.

You jumped when he grabbed your hand. His thumb traced a familiar pattern on the inside of your palm that he identified without even looking at it.

"Right there, Is where I, your 'Spitfire' as you called me... bit you during the first week I was here." He watched your eyes widen and continued when you stayed silent. "You also told me your whole life story, but I figure you've been through enough today without me recounting all the parental disappointment you've told me about. Now, are you going to let me fix you up or not?" He quirked an eyebrow in a movement that you recognized from his time as your pet. He had tilted his head a little bit, his tell when he was annoyed. Or at least, it was what you had told yourself when you still thought he was just an animal.

You swallowed and reached out, hand cupping his cheek gently, mindful of the staples. You watched his eyes cycle through various stages of panic, as well as affection and fear as he kept a calm and cocky facade to all who didn't know him as well as you did.

"You're really him. You're my spitfire?" He nodded, watching you uncomfortably as you searched his face. He waited for your verdict, where you rejected him outright and drew away. Instead, you leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips before pulling back shyly.

"You saved my life. Thank you, Dabi. I know you're a villain, but.... You were my hero today."

He debated keeping up his facade before saying to heck with it. He pulled you into a fierce kiss, all his worry and relief and love pouring over you as he held you tight. You relaxed into the embrace, kissing back as you let him tell you how he really felt. Pulling away when you needed air, a breathy giggle escaped when you bumped noses.

His smile was one of the most beautiful sights you had ever seen and you were looking forward to learning what had happened to put such a mysterious and amazing man in your life.

He shushed you as you moved to ask, shaking his head tiredly. "After, my firefly. Let's get your injuries tended to first, then I'll tell you everything."

Taglist:

@witch-o-memes

@nightlygiggless

@ravensfeatheruniverse

#dabi #touya todoroki #touya #mha dabi #mha touya #bnha dabi #bnha touya #dabi x reader #touya x reader #dabi x you #touya x you #x reader #bnha x reader #reader insert #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha

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ladykissingfish · 3 years

Text

Driving with the Akatsuki

Itachi

Driving with this guy is ... nerve-wracking, to say the very least. It’s not as though he’s a reckless automobile operator; he observes all the laws of traffic, the radio is at a reasonable volume ((he’s the type to listen to podcasts rather than music)), he follows the speed limits, he actually slows down at a yellow light — but it’s the near-misses that are daunting. The just barely stopping in time before hitting the old lady crossing the street. The running up on the curb while parking. And then there was that incident with the tree — Itachi legally has to wear glasses when driving, but his passengers often wonder whether the glasses actually HELP him. Even with them on, he squints A LOT. And only someone with nerves of absolute steel, like Kisame or Kakuzu, will be in a car with him at night. However he is with driving, one thing he’s not blind in, is his car’s cleanliness. Will make passengers wipe feet before getting in, and after everyone is gone he’ll carefully scour the seats to remove even the faintest trace of lint or gum wrappers or any disturbance at all. Can be a bit of a “mom” driver; a holdover from his teenage years of constantly having to chauffeur around his younger brother and his brother’s rambunctious friends.

Kakuzu

Anyone getting into a vehicle with Kakuzu is in for a surprise. 91 years old? Surely he drives slow and steady, like a typical little old man, right? WRONG. Kakuzu is a goddamn speed-demon. He barrels down streets, he flies through intersections. Not many know this about him, but he was very much into drag-racing as a (much) young(er) man, and his current proclivity for quickness is a holdover from those days. Luck always seems to be on his side, as he’s gotten caught/received speeding tickets far less than he deserves. To make matters scarier, Kakuzu’s radio system has been broken for two years (and of course he’s too cheap to get it fixed), and the back left window doesn’t roll up to the top; so the only sound his passengers will hear is the wind rushing past the glass and Kakuzu’s deep, sinister chuckles as he sees other drivers (and pedestrians) scramble to get out of his way. Also, unless you’re a CLOSE-close friend, don’t expect a ride from him unless you have gas money.

Deidara

In all honesty, the blonde prefers to be the passenger rather than the driver, even in his own car. He gets his best inspirations for future art pieces when he’s traveling around, and it’s hard to pick up a sketch book when you need to be paying attention to the road. When he does have to be behind the wheel himself, he’s a fairly average driver. His passengers are always at risk of a case of auditory whiplash, as Deidara’s (loudly played) music tastes switch from one extreme to the other; and the guy isn’t exactly shy about singing along to his favorites. He’s also one of those eat-on-the-go guys, and his backseat will almost always be buried under a myriad of candy wrappers, empty plastic soda bottles and discarded burger wrappers. In the summer he prefers the wild and free feeling of having all the windows down, rather than turning the AC on, and he’ll have to remember to firmly tie up his long hair and keep it from blowing in his eyes or else everyone in the car will be taking an unscheduled trip into the nearest tree.

Zetsu

His car always has that calm, natural, “special plant” scent to it. The kind of smell that causes a panic when Zetsu sees a police officer anywhere in the area. A very relaxed driver; seat almost all the way back, one hand barely on the steering wheel. Obeys the speed limit but can put the pedal to the metal when in a hurry. Likes to listen to mostly reggae or jazz, and taps his fingers on he dashboard along to the beat. Water-bottle hoarder; has at least 1000 plastic water bottles, in varying staging of fullness, all over the front and back seats. The type to keep driving around the block until the song ends. Also the type to have really deep conversations with his passengers, and drive them out to really far away and scenic locations.

Hidan

If you have somewhere important to go, and need a ride, it’s best not to ask Hidan. He is the sort who always insists he knows a shortcut or a quicker route to every destination ... and ends up hopelessly lost. Can’t read a map to save his life and for some reason won’t trust a car’s gps system to guide him ((has some pretty crazy conspiracy theories about the voice behind the system)). Easily distracted by any and everything (both inside and outside of car), which makes being his passenger a bit daunting. Like Kakuzu, is a very fast driver, but infinitely more cautious as he has a LOT of tickets wracked up and isn’t looking to add more.

Really loves Led Zeppelin and Johnny Cash; has a visor full of those CD’s and will play those rather than listen to the radio. Also has a butt-load of swear word laden and inappropriate humor bumper stickers.

Pein

Who needs a car when motorcycles exist? This guy has a classic hog that he keeps in mint condition, that he rides around wherever he goes. Every year he’ll try and convince his close friends to ditch their boring cars for something more sublime, only to be met sure emphatic No’s each time. Is very protective over his baby and will go ballistic over even the tiniest nick or scrape. Drives at a normal speed when by himself, but will drive just a bit faster when carting around a friend (especially if it’s a female friend). Doesn’t really like to wear a helmet himself but will insist on any passengers putting one on. Prefers the quiet of the open road but if in a musical mood it’s always 80’s hair bands; a lot of Def Leppard, Quiet Riot, Van Halen. Can do a variety of tricks on his bike but doesn’t do them often as he doesn’t like to “mess up” his baby any more than necessary.

Sasori

Absolutely 100% HATES driving. Has massive anxiety anytime he has to get behind the wheel, almost to the point where he’d need to take a sedative just to relax. Drives slower than the slowest driver you can think of. Yellow light? Slow down. Green light? Still slow down. Will drive himself to and from work, but any other time would prefer being a passenger in someone else’s car ((in which case he becomes the worst backseat driver in history)), or simply taking the bus. Doesn’t like giving rides to others but if he must, it’ll be a very tense, silent drive (forget about him turning on the radio and ‘breaking his concentration’), and he’ll freak out if a passenger takes their seatbelt off before the car comes to a complete stop. Also has a hyper-awareness to anything that might possibly be wrong with his car; if that check engine light comes on you can bet he’ll be at the mechanic in a heartbeat. Also the type who feels “uncomfortable” if gas tank is below 3/4 full.

Konan

The type who’s always heading somewhere/running errands, and will ask if you need a ride. Very neat and organized car, and always suspiciously shiny (as if she visits the carwash every other day). Seems to know absolutely everybody; is always waving at or honking to people in other cars. Keeps the radio volume down when she has passengers, but when alone she loves to sing at the top of her lungs to 90’s boy bands (her rendition of I Want It That Way by The Backstreet Boys is American-Idol worthy). Is always prepared for anything, especially in the winter; in her trunk is a shovel, an extra blanket, water bottles and protein bars, even emergency flares. May be pretty and delicate but definitely knows her way around a car; can change a tire or check the oil with the best of them.

Kisame

Has very long legs, so needs a car or truck that provides him ample room to stretch. A very relaxed and mellow driver, always puts whoever’s with him immediately at ease. Doesn’t use air fresheners in his car but inside always smells like whatever his cologne is, which is always yummy. Gets a lot of fast-food but always keeps the bags and wrappers stored neatly in a little garbage bag that he empties out daily. Will let his passengers do pretty much anything in his car EXCEPT smoke; he can’t stand the smell of tobacco. Isn’t really a Point A to Point B driver; will always think of other places to stop or visit en-route to his destination. Big fan of Musical music; his all-time favorite cd is the soundtrack to Grease. Also (when by himself) is a car-emoter; Kisame doesn’t let most people see anything but his cheerful side. Bring alone in his car is the only time he’ll cry, or scream, or express anger regarding events or people.

Obito

The type of driver who very often spaces out and “forgets” that he’s driving. Prefers traveling more with animals than with people; most likely to take his dog on a weeklong broad trip. Has been a smoker since his teenage years but is trying to quit, so in his car is the only place he “allows” himself a cigarette (but only when he’s completely alone). Almost started a fire once when he threw a still-lit cigarette out the window, but it flew into the backseat instead. Drives fairly slow unless he’s in a hurry for something (but even then his foot doesn’t press the gas pedal THAT much harder). His musical tastes depend on his mood but whatever he ends up listening to is always car-shakingly loud. Seems to have a new (and interesting) trinket hanging from his rear-view mirror every week. The kind who drives around for several days with his gas tank close to/touching on E because ”he knows his car, it’s fine”.

#the akatsuki #driving #vroom vroom #deidara #sasori #obito uchiha #itachi uchiha #zetsu #pein #konan #kakuzu #kisame #hidan

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secretlittlerandezvous · 3 years

Text

Été - Pierre-Luc Dubois

Summary: Pierre takes his love to France where they have the time of their lives.

Words: 1802

“In this space right here that we have made for each other, you can say anything, and I will not abandon you. Unwrap the worst things you have done. Watch me hold them up to the light and not even flinch.” - tristamateer on Tumblr

Pierre-Luc Dubois was without a doubt the most romantic and sweetest guy she ever met in her whole life. It was overwhelming at times. The amount of attention he gave her, romantic surprises from dinners to weekend getaways to simply but most importantly being her best friend. He appeared in her life just when she was losing hope there could exist a man who could love her the way she wanted and needed. She knew she could count on him and trust him with everything and no matter how many issues life threw in their way they almost made it out stronger and more in love. What more could she ask for?

That’s exactly what Pierre wanted to know once the hockey season ended for him and summer was around the corner. He knew how much she had to sacrifice and deal with many things that she didn’t like for the sake of his playing career and he wanted to show her how much he appreciated her patience and support. He asked her countless time if there was anything she wanted to do in summer, anything he could buy her, or make come true but she never said a single thing except for “having you is enough”. It was of course a nice thing to know and to hear but it wasn’t helpful at all. Then thankfully an answer came, quite randomly when they were cooking dinner together and she opened a bottle of her favorite French wine and mumbled the words “oh to be in a winery in France!” And that’s exactly where he was going to take her.

He planned the whole trip for almost two weeks to make sure everything would go smoothly and that everything would be perfect. He rented a villa on a hilltop surround by land and in a small private winery. The villa was near to historic cities of southwest France, and completely private which was something he craved - privacy. To be alone with his love, away from his teammates and the team’s staff, away from media and fans. Just him and her for once.

“Are you kidding?” Y/n asked when she opened the little envelope with the details of their vacation in France. “I can’t go to France for 3 weeks Pierre! I have to work.”

“No, no you don’t,” Pierre laughed and rolled his eyes at her. She could never enjoy a surprise without thinking of a reason why she couldn’t enjoy it.

“What do you mean? Of course, I do!”

“You don’t. I talked to your boss already and she doesn’t have a problem with it,” he explained with a soft smile.

“You’re the best!” She said loudly and jump on him with excitement. “I love you.”

Southwest France

When the couple arrived to their rented villa a selection of wines made in the winery they would call home for the next three weeks greeted them in the kitchen and naturally, they opened a bottle or two immediately as a way to start the vacation.

“Wine tastes better in France,” Y/n announced after she poured herself another glass. “Don’t you think?”

“I think it would taste even better if we had some food,” Pierre laughed. “Seriously, I’m starving. Let’s go out.”

“Give me a minute,” Y/n ran to their bedroom, put on a beige silk dress that went below her knees, styled it with a pair of black flats and sunglasses and she was ready to go.

Pierre waited for her outside in their rented car, a black cabriolet Chevrolet Corvette, the perfect car to discover the city in and for road trips he planned for them.

A few minutes later they were sitting in possibly the most romantic restaurant they have ever been to. A man was playing the piano somewhere in the garden creating a perfect atmosphere for their first date in France, oil paintings on the walls, flowers decorating all the tables, and the view on a courtyard full of flowers. Could it be more magical? People around them chatted with each other, the beautiful French language almost seemed to be in the rhythm of the piano. And yet as fancy as it was it still felt cozy and homey. Y/n was in complete shock and it took a lot of self-control to stay calm and not to start obsesses over everything and to keep her phone in her bag since she and Pierre agreed not to use their phones and enjoy the privacy but she regretted the promise a little because she really wanted to a take a picture of that place. Pierre liked the setting as well but what made him happier was Y/n’s smile and excitement. Her smile was wider than usual, and her eyes lit up every time she spotted something, she found adorable.

The sun was slowly setting down while they enjoyed their dinner, the best food they ever had in their whole lives. They’ve been to so many restaurants in so many cities, yet no food tasted as good as the food in France. Needless to mention that the beautiful atmosphere simply made everything better. Pierre although he was a romantic guy, he never truly understood the world’s obsession with Paris and France in general but now that he was there, he finally understood what the world was talking about. Y/n always dreamt of going to France and having a movie-like summer with the love of her life. And as she looked at Pierre sitting in front of her, looking right back at her with so much love she knew with absolute certainty that he was the love of her life, the person she waited for for so long. The only person she could imagine spending the rest of her life with and growing old with him didn’t scare her at all. She knew it was going to be okay.

The following morning, they both woke up in an exceptionally good mood. Maybe it was the sunshine and warmth, maybe it was the fresh air, the privacy, and maybe the fact that everything was perfect, and nothing could ruin their mood. After a delicious breakfast, they moved to their garden to chill by the pool.

Pierre was on the sunbed watching Y/n swim in the pool happily. He kept smiling at her although she hardly ever looked at him. She looked happier than ever before and Pierre was proud of himself for planning this and doing this for her because it served its purpose; it made her smile, happy and relaxed.

When she got out of the water she stood still in the grass, surrounded by the never-ending grapevine, the sun made her skin appear golden and she was glowing, looking like an actual goddess. “What?” She giggled when she noticed Pierre staring at her.

“Nothing,” he answered. “Just adoring my girl.”

Y/n then lay down on the sunbed next to Pierre, enjoyed the warmth, and listened to Pierre reading her favorite book for her. The birds sang in the trees, the sun was pleasingly warm and they sipped wine and enjoyed each other’s company.

All shades of orange and pink created a beautiful sky that made everything look warmer and cozier, the last rays of sunshine sneaked into the villa most specifically to the kitchen where was Y/n currently making dinner while Pierre tries his best to help but not move around too much because his clumsiness in the kitchen was no joke. A warm breeze brushed against their skin and the scent of freshly chopped herbs filled the whole area. Soft jazz was playing in the living room and both Y/n and Pierre moved in the rhythm of the quiet music without realizing it. It was simply a beautiful and romantic evening in France.

“I have no idea what we’re cooking,” Pierre said as he added the chopped herbs and garlic he cut with such care after to the meat that was now covered in red wine and beef stock. “But it already smells delicious.”

“It’s boeuf bourguignon,” she answered with a French accent making herself and Pierre giggle. “And now we wait for an hour.” She said when she put the meat into the oven.

“This is nice,” Pierre whispered into Y/n’s ear when he wrapped his hands around her body, kissed her cheek softly and they slowly moved together with the music and watched the sunset from their terrace. “It’s nice having you all to myself for a while.”

“I should be the one who’s saying this,” Y/n said quietly. “I’m the one sharing you with all the fans, and teammates. Even the press people see you more often than I do.” She chuckled.

“I know,” he answered sadly, realizing once again how hard it must be for her to watch him spend time with everyone but her. “I’ll make it up to you.”

Y/n turned around with a smile to face him, wrapped her hands around his neck and hid her face in his chest. She knew how much Pierre hated being away from her but she understood everything perfectly and although it was never easy she accepted it.

Pierre leaned down a little which gave her a signal to lift her head up and his lips gently and slowly pressed to hers. She ran her fingers through his hair while his hands were securely around her waist as if he was worried someone would take her away from him at any moment. “I think I’m gonna make it up to you right now.” He announced and carried her to their bedroom.

And so that’s how the rest of the vacation went; they enjoyed the silence and fresh air, went for walks around the town, cooked food together, and made love whenever they wanted. Most importantly their relationship was even better than it was before, and they realized how much they loved each other.

“Thank you for this vacation, my love,” Y/n said one evening as they walked around the vineyard. “I can’t describe how grateful I am for this. For you.”

Pierre stood still for a while unable to find the words to say. He would do anything for her just as she would for him and they both knew it. They had no doubts about their feelings for each other and everything that he could say was already said. And so he just took her into his arms and hugged her tighter than ever before, kissed her and they stayed like that until the sun was replaced by the moon.

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snarkythewoecrow · 3 years

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Prompt time! I know you've taken prompts for more serious subjects and mental health related stuff and I've absolutely loved them. If you are comfortable to write it and it won't be triggering, would you write like a sequel to your rubber band/coping mechanism fic where Peter goes to Tony when he has an urge to hurt himself or afterwards for helping cleaning up? Either that or a fic unrelated to that one where Tony sees Peter's old self harm scars or finds out that Peter still does sh? Just something irondad that's related to that subject but only if you are okay with writing it! I completely understand if it's something you don't wanna write more off, I just thought I'd ask anyway if that's okay

Sorry it took me so long to write, but here it is!

Read on AO3

*Trigger Warning for Self-harm and Blood*

In the kitchen at the lake house, Peter sat at the center island, watching Tony thread macaroni onto yarn as Morgan painted the necklace she’d already made. Noodles were scattered everywhere, and when you walked, there was a good chance you’d hear pasta crunching underfoot.

Morgan had paint from her hands to her hair, and Tony wasn’t fairing much better. Morgan had already made them all necklaces and was working on her fifth. The one she’d made Peter was draped around his neck. She'd said the one she made him was extra special because it had wagon wheels laced between the macaroni.

Peter was on the end of the island on a stool, his textbook carefully placed to avoid the smears of paint and glue. Thankfully, after the glitter balloon incident, Pepper banned glitter from the house, so Peter didn’t need to worry about that.

All in all, he should have been happy, but he wasn’t, and he wasn’t sure why that was, either.

Things had been better in the months since Tony had found Peter on the back porch that night, since they’d talked about his self-harming, but that didn’t mean that sometimes, for a reason Peter didn’t understand, he still had bad days—like today.

Everyone in his life was healthy and happy, things were going well at school, but he still couldn’t get the itch to cut out of his mind. Some days were definitely worse than others, and he’d been building toward this bad day all week. The rubber band on his wrist was getting plenty of use.

Tony had told him that he could come to him whenever he needed but seeing Tony smiling as he played with Morgan, he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t bring the mood down. He didn’t want to be the reason the worry lines in Tony’s face deepened.

It was already hard enough to use the rubber band with Tony nearby. He always got this look—somewhere between sadness and concern. Peter hated causing that look, so he’d done the only thing he could to avoid it. He stopped snapping the band when he was with Tony.

It was easier this way. What Tony didn’t know, couldn’t hurt him, or at least, that’s what Peter told himself.

The cloud over Peter’s head wasn’t lightening up, and he felt overwhelmed like his lungs were filling with water, and he was going under. He fingered the band on his wrist, wanting to snap it, just to feel something, but then Tony laughed, and Morgan giggled, the box of macaroni spilled, and Peter—Peter just couldn’t do it.

He closed his textbook and excused himself from the table, mumbling that he had a headache and needed to lay down. Before he made it out of the kitchen, Tony called after him, telling him dinner was in a few hours and he’d check on him then.

Peter forced a smile, ducking his head and scurrying up the stairs, leaving the sounds of Morgan’s laughter behind him.

When he got to his room, he shut the door, falling against it, still clutching his textbook. He didn’t have a headache like he’d told Tony, but he didn’t know what else to say at the time, though with the tension in his body, a headache was a real possibility soon.

He kicked off the door and walked over to his bed, pausing by the desk to drop his textbook with a thump. He collapsed on the bed, so his legs were still hanging off the side.

With Tony no longer able to witness it, Peter snapped the band on his wrist, but it brought no relief from the deep need to cut. The feeling was so consuming Peter thought he could taste it. The flavor reminded him of ash. He hated that he felt this way, but he didn’t know how to control it.

Tony had paid for therapy, and May made sure he went, but the coping skills only helped so much.

When it was like this, nothing else seemed like it could scratch the itch—not as well as a knife.

His therapist had suggested holding ice cubes when the urge got bad, but that would mean going to the kitchen, and Tony would notice. He would ask. Then worry lines would etch the man’s face, and Peter would feel even worse because he put them there.

Drawing on his arms was a nearly laughable suggestion. His therapist had suggested a red pen for effect. Peter didn’t have a red pen, and it never worked in the past. The only thing he knew that could make him feel better came with a healthy dose of guilt. He knew hurting himself would temporarily make it all melt away.

But the worst part—the part that made Peter feel like a failure—was he didn’t even know what had triggered it. Everything had been going well. Maybe he really did come back from the snap wrong.

Frustrated, angry, Peter sat up and scrubbed his hands over his face. The urge to just make a little cut or dig his nails just deep enough to break skin was all-consuming. The band on his wrist felt more like a reminder of his failures than a lifeline—a way to pull himself back.

He wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all.

Then it reached a point where it started to hurt in his chest, and he just needed something to focus it all back, to let him breathe, and without conscious thought, he started clawing at his arm. The little stabs of pain felt grounding, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t the fix he needed.

The crescent-shaped cuts and scratches oozed blood as Peter got up and went looking for a knife, for something to cut with. He’d given his utility knife to Tony, but he thought they both knew that wouldn’t stop him, not when he felt like this.

A small part of him thought he should call out to Tony, but then he remembered how happy they’d looked, and he didn’t want to spoil that. He’d deal with this on his own.

He slipped out of his room, listening to make sure no one was close, then darted to the bathroom. His chances of finding something to cut with seemed higher in a bathroom.

When he got to the bathroom, he started rifling through the cabinet but not finding much. He came across spare toothbrushes and travel-size shampoos and soaps, but nothing sharp. He looked under the sink, knowing there should be a first aid kit, and where there was a first aid kit, there might be scissors.

He found his prize with a shaky sigh. Setting the scissors on the counter, Peter stuffed the kit back under the sink, pocketed the scissors, and headed back to his room.

When he got to the hall, he heard Tony talking, telling Morgan something about a spaghetti monster. It made guilt twist in his gut, settling there and starting to fester.

He ran back to his room as quickly as he dared, then shut his door, locking it for good measure.

The feeling that washed over him as he took the scissors from his pocket was one part relief, one part anticipation, and the rest self-loathing. He knew he wasn’t just letting himself down. He was letting those who cared about him down, too.

That didn’t stop him from sitting in the desk chair, putting the blade to his arm, and cutting, though.

It happened so easily, and when he did it, he put all those bad feelings into it, turning the negative emotions and guilt into something manageable, something he could do something about. Physical pain made sense. It had a cause, a source, a purpose. And the blood that welled up from the cut made sense, too. It all made sense in a way his emotions didn’t, and he needed it.

The one cut wasn’t enough, though. It had been hesitant and not that deep. The bleeding was already stopping.

Peter felt like the world was muted and focused down to the blade and his arm. He pressed the metal harder against his skin and dragged it until he reached the underside of his arm. It bled much more freely, and Peter felt almost high from it.

Wanting to see more, needing the cause and effect of it, he cut again just below the second, pressing even harder. The skin split neatly under the blade.

He was just about to make another when the door handle jiggled, followed by a knock.

“Pete?” Tony’s voice drifted through the door. “Why’s the door locked?”

Peter’s high came crashing down, and reality wasn’t gentle. It hit suddenly how stupid he’d been. It was like realization hit him all at once. One thing had so easily turned into another. And Peter had taken each step without truly acknowledging the direction he was heading. And the place it brought him wasn’t great. He was locked in his room with a bleeding arm, having used Tony’s scissors, and ignored every chance he’d had to reach out for help. Tony had only been a shout away.

His body felt like it had locked up as the emotions swirled within him. He dropped the scissors on the floor, clattering against the wood, and he looked down at his arm, really seeing the damage for the first time outside of the warped lens of need.

It was bad. It was really bad. He might not need stitches, but it would be close, and the blood was everywhere. There were droplets on his jeans and on the floor, rivulets running down his arm.

He didn’t know what to do or what to say. His voice had been stolen by the grief he was feeling. He wasn’t just mourning himself. He was mourning the loss of trust he knew he’d just caused. He wasn’t ready to face the music.

The door handle jiggled again, and there was another round of knocking, even louder. “Peter, open the door.”

His heart kept hitting his ribs so hard he thought it would bruise.

He didn’t want to lie, but he didn’t know how to tell the truth. He hated himself for not just telling Tony how he’d been feeling. With more clarity than before, he realized now that Tony would probably have been proud.

He wouldn’t be proud now.

He would be sad or angry or worse—disappointed.

If Peter were honest, he was pretty disappointed in himself, enough for the both of them, enough for the world. He felt like a failure.

He didn’t want to be a liar, though, but he didn’t know what to do, so he called out to Tony, “Just a minute.”

He grabbed some tissues from his desk and tried to dab some of the blood up, but it just smeared it around, making his arm look like part of a crime scene. He’d really done it this time. Once Tony saw, there would be no going back. He’d see how broken Peter was and not want him anymore. No one wanted to deal with this, no matter how much they said they cared.

Tears started to well in his eyes, frowning so hard his face hurt. He kept a tissue pressed to the deepest cut and stood. He looked to the window, considering escaping the only way he could. He knew it wasn’t an option, though, and would only make things worse.

Accepting his fate, his body and mind feeling weighted, Peter shuffled to the door and unlocked it. He stepped back so it could swing open, closing his eyes and waiting for Tony to realize.

There were footsteps and Tony saying, “You know you’re not supposed to lock the door.”

Then Peter heard it. The air sucking into Tony’s lungs.

Peter’s shoulders fell, and the tears in his eyes broke free, rolling down his cheeks.

“Jesus Christ.” Then a hand grabbed his arm, and Peter opened his eyes, his eyelashes clumped together by tears. The devastation was clear on Tony’s face.

“I’m sorry,” Peter said. The apology wasn’t nearly enough, though. Nothing really would be. There weren’t words for times like these.

Tony’s expression was pinched. He shook his head, letting out a breath, then saying, “I’m not mad.”

And Peter wondered who he was trying to convince.

Peter nodded, his face twisting into some ugly and raw. “I don’t know what happened. I know I shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean it. You gotta believe me.”

Tony’s expression softened, and when he swallowed, it looked painful. “We can talk about it later. Let’s get you cleaned up first.”

Then he was guiding Peter to his bed, sitting him down. He grabbed some extra tissues and pressed them to the wounds.

“Hold those there. Keep pressure. I’ll go get the first aid kit.” Then Tony’s foot hit the scissors, and he looked down, his head shaking a little. He bent down and picked the scissors up. Licking his lips, he said, “Will you be okay for a second?”

Peter wasn’t sure he’d ever be okay again, but he nodded anyway, not trusting his voice.

With a nod, Tony turned and dipped out of the room. Thankfully, or maybe not, he was back before Peter could think too much about what he’d done.

Tony pulled the chair closer and sat, the first aid kit on the desk. He dug out the supplies he needed and lined them up, opening the packets of gauze. Then he lifted Peter’s hand and the tissues from the cuts, assessing the damage. The bleeding had stopped.

No one said anything, and Peter wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.

With methodical movements, Tony cleaned the cuts, and a few times, Peter thought Tony had been close to saying something, but each time, he’d just shaken his head and gone back to tending his wounds.

As Tony taped the gauze in place, he finally asked, “Was there something I could have done? Something I didn’t do? I just—” He cut himself off with a sigh, then straightened. “You know you can come to me, right?”

Peter couldn’t meet Tony’s gaze, so he stared at his shoulder. “You seemed so happy today. I didn’t want to spoil it. You and Morgan—” He shook his head. “I didn’t want to ruin the mood. Sometimes it feels like that’s all I do, you know?”

Tony sighed, scrubbing a hand over his mouth. “I know you think—let’s just say I’d rather you told me than finding you like this. I know I’m not an expert, but I could’ve helped distract you if I’d known. It might not have been easy, but I want the chance to help you—no matter what mood you think you’re ruining.”

Peter nodded, the tears back in his eyes. He felt all-encompassing guilt for what he’d done. “I don’t know what to do—how to fix this.”

“We take it one step at a time. Relapses happen, and when they do happen, it doesn’t make you a failure.” He squeezed Peter’s knee. “Recovery isn’t linear. It might feel like it’s all over, and you can’t fix it, but it’s really just a little bump in the road, a little hitch in the graph. The line is still moving forward and up.”

He wanted to believe Tony, but it was hard. He didn’t feel like he deserved the kind of understanding Tony gave him. He felt sick for what he’d done, and it would be so much easier if Tony were angry. He could deal with that.

His arms wound themselves around his middle without his consent as he tried to hold himself together. The cuts on his arms barely stung any more, which he was thankful for. The pain wasn’t a good feeling now. It didn’t settle him like it had. Instead, it reminded him how badly he’d screwed up.

“Oh, kiddo,” Tony said as he got up and moved to sit beside Peter. Then his arm wrapped around Peter’s shoulders and tugged him closer.

Peter sank into his side, his breath hitching as he fought a sob.

Tony pressed his lips to Peter’s hair, his breath warm against his scalp. “We’re gonna get through this. Just you watch.”

Then Peter broke, and it was an ugly sound. He choked on the sobs as they erupted from him, tears dripping from his chin, snot clogging his nose. His shoulders shook as he fell apart, or maybe not really, as Tony was doing a pretty good job of holding him together.

And wasn’t that the meat of it.

Because Peter realized amidst the tears that no matter what, Tony and the others in his life, they weren’t giving up on him—no matter how badly he screwed things up.

Tony held him until he could breathe again, then he cleaned himself up and changed out of the bloody jeans, and he and Tony went to finish making dinner. Morgan was at the table with Pepper, both wearing macaroni necklaces and big smiles.

If either of them noticed the bandages, they didn’t say a word, and when Tony patted his shoulder and told him to grab a chair, it felt something like forgiveness or understanding.

Things weren’t always great, and the line of the graph might hitch, but Peter could see that it was still moving up, still moving forward, and he thought that just might mean he’d be okay.

#tw: self harm #irondad #peter parker #tony stark #depression #snark writes #LittleMissAgrafina

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tchallasbabymama · 3 years

Text

Fly Like a Bird- Playlist Chapter 5

Hey y’all, here’s the next chapter of Playlist, catch up on it and check out my other stories by clicking HERE.

CW: smut, violence, torture

Word count: 5812

Ashanti was the first to awaken, and she smiled warmly at the feeling of being in her lovers’ arms. She listened to his soft snores in her ear and her hand came up to caress his before intertwining their fingers. Just as she did, his hand closed around hers and pulled her in closer to his body. She felt his morning wood and bit her lip. She didn't want to wake him up, but the thickness resting on her backside had her seriously reconsidering. Her hips rolled against him involuntarily and he stirred awake.

“Good morning to you too,” T’Challa said with his raspy, deep morning voice before kissing her lightly behind her ear. She craned her neck so he could have better access and he started kissing down to her shoulder. “How did you sleep?”

“Like the dead,” Ashanti deadpanned, still feeling sore all over from the night before. T'Challa chuckled and she sunk back into his vibrating chest as his hand moved to grip her hip and pull her into him. He bit down on her shoulder before kissing back up to her neck.

“Kumkani’s sorry.”

“No you're not, don't even lie,” Ashanti said as a shiver went down her spine.

“Mm, you’re right, I’m not.” T’Challa bit her jugular and her pussy jumped. His hand came up to play with her nipples and she let out a moan before attempting to turn and face him.

“Don’t move, stay just like this,” he said as his other hand travelled down her naked body to the patch of short hairs between her legs. His fingers parted her outer lips before trailing up and down her pussy, seemingly begging for entrance. Her hips thrust back into his dick as he grinded with her, their bodies moving in sync. She let out a moan as his fingers grazed her clit.

“Is your pussy too sore for me to fuck you just like this?” His hand left from between her legs and made its way down her thigh before he pulled her leg up into the air.

“I’m sore, but I still want it,” she whined.

“I’ll be gentle, kitten.” He lined his throbbing dick up with her entrance and rolled his hips into her so that he slowly entered her little by little, pulling out and going in deeper with each stroke.

“Mmm, deeper kumkani,” her hand found its way to the back of his head and she pulled him in so that his face was buried in her neck, whispering filth into her ear.

“You want it deeper? I thought you were sore.”

“Mmm I love how you take this dick, kitten. So hungry for more.”

“Fuck you’re so tight around me, I’m going to bust deep inside you again.”

“I want you walking around with my cum dripping out of you whenever I say so…do you understand me?”

Ashanti’s eyes rolled into the back of her head, a goofy smile spread across her face as she silently thanked Bast for sending her the absolutely filthy man behind her.

“Ewe kumkani wam.”

He thrust his hips forward, fully sheathing himself inside her. The arm holding her leg up hooked around her knee and his fingers found their way to her mouth.

“Vula,” he commanded.

She obeyed, opening wide. When his fingers made contact with her tongue she closed her mouth around them, sucking just as she would his big juicy dick.

“Mmmm, you’re such a good little slut.” He bit her earlobe and picked up his pace, going deeper while pulling her leg further back so that her knee touched her shoulder..

“Ooooh, kumkani, it feels so good.”

“What does?”

“Your dick, i-inside me,” Ashanti stuttered out, the tension building in her lower half.

“This dick?” He thrust especially deep inside her, causing her to cry out.

“Yes! Yes, right there.”

T’Challa continued to fuck her like that, his other hand coming up under her and trapping her next to him even more before going straight to rubbing her clit. His hips rolled his dick into her repeatedly, switching up between long slow strokes and beating her pussy into submission.

“I feel you, kitten, cum for me.”

Her pussy tightened around him and she released a deluge onto the sheets, T’Challa following shortly after, filling her to the brim. They stayed in that embrace for a few moments before he slid out of her. She reached her hand down between her legs and brought it back to her lips, tasting the salty sweetness of them. His hand found its way under her chin, and lightly turned it towards him to meet him in a sweet and passionate liplock.

“What would you like for breakfast?” he asked against her lips.

“How about I cook you something?”

“You made dinner,” He lightly kissed her shoulder. “Let me handle breakfast. You know how much I love it.”

“Alright, alright, I’m convinced,” she giggled.

“You can keep me company,” he said as he watched her gracefully roll out of bed and reach for her robe. “Naked.”

She looked up at him and smirked, walking over to him and planting a kiss on his lips.

“As you wish, kumkani.” She led him back downstairs to the kitchen. Thankfully all he had to clean up from the night before was the cobbler bowls, which he put in the dishwasher. Ashanti leaned against the counter as he rummaged through her cabinets and refrigerator looking for inspiration. She admired his lean muscular frame as he glided around her kitchen like he owned it...and she guessed he kind of did in some ways since it was his country and all.

While his back was turned to her, Ashanti grabbed her sketchpad and started drawing him. His back muscles rippled every time he moved and she couldn't help but to capture the moment.

T’Challa played music from his beads and interrupted her drawing to pull her in close for a dance while he kept an eye on the plantains in the skillet. He twirled her around and swayed with her to the melody, their naked bodies in a gentle embrace. Ashanti wanted it to stay like this forever.

______

The next few weeks passed by with the lovers spending as much time together as possible. The king got to know Ashanti’s parents and roommates, and Ashanti grew close with the royal family. They were both on cloud nine, but T’Challa kept getting a feeling that something was going to go wrong. His cousin convinced him it was probably just his anxiety from past relationships resurfacing, and he let it sink to the back of his mind. For the most part.

Ashanti could tell that something was off with T’Challa, but whenever she asked him about it he would cover her in kisses and reassure her everything was fine. She didn’t believe him, but she let it go for the time being and gave him his space. After almost two weeks of his behavior she finally had enough, so she stormed into his office refusing to take “fine” for an answer.

“T’Challa Jahi Udaku!” she burst into his office, interrupting a conversation between the king and the chief of the Jabari. “Oh, excuse me Lord M’Baku.”

“None needed, I was just on my way out anyway and it seems you two have something important to discuss.” he and T’Challa shared a look. “Goodbye my King, Sister Ashanti.” He nodded to them both and saluted T’Challa on this way out the door.

The king stood and rounded his desk, grabbing both of her hands in his and bringing them to his lips.

“My love, what is the matter?”

“You!” she pulled her hands from his and his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “Why are you acting so strange and distant? Has something changed?”

“No, of course not-”

“Then why do you barely talk to me anymore? Did I do something?” her voice softened.

“Not at all kitten, I just-” T’Challa sighed, “Here, take a seat.”

She sat down tentatively, worried that the next thing out of his mouth would be exactly what she feared. He decided to be only partially honest.

“There has been some...concerning activity near our borders that has required my attention.”

“What kind of activity?” she asked, still not convinced.

“It is probably best that you do not know, trust me,” a look of restrained horror and sadness washed over his face. He wanted to tell her that he feels something nefarious is coming, but he didn’t want to worry her. His panther senses were almost never wrong and as of late they had been on a hundred.

He kneeled down in front of her before grabbing her hands again and staring deep into her eyes. “I am sorry that I have been neglecting you, love. That was not my intention”

“I know you’re busy being the king and protector of Wakanda,” she said as she straightened out his collar, “but I just want you to talk to me and let me know what’s going on so I don’t expect the worst. Ok?”

“Ok,” he kissed her forehead then her nose before settling on her lips for a soft kiss. He pulled away slightly and she grabbed his collar to pull him back in for a deeper kiss before letting him go.

“Kitten,” he warned, “You know I have to get back to work.” He could barely get the words out between kisses.

“I know, I just miss you.”

“I know and I miss you too. Let’s go out tonight, it’s been a couple weeks since I took you on a proper date.”

“Mr. Udaku are you trying to woo me?” she clutched her nonexistent pearls.

“Yes I am, Ms. Mostafa. Is it working?” He moved in closer and kissed behind her ear and down to her collarbone.

“Mhm, too well.”

He laughed and stood up before reaching out a hand to her. She took it and rose from her seat, giving him a quick peck on the lips. She turned to head back home when she felt a hard slap on her ass.

“T’Challa! You’re in a mood today, too.” She teased.

“Just make sure you are ready at seven,” he commanded with a mischievous look on his face.

“Ewe kumkani wam,” she threw back at him as she twitched her hips on the way out of the room, knowing he was staring. When she left he breathed a sigh of relief and went back to the holographic screen, pulling up a picture of a woman on a throne.

“What are you up to now?” He wondered aloud.

_______

“We need stronger security at our borders, the Nigandans are planning an attack.”

“What proof do you have of this, my king?” The Border tribe elder asked T’Challa. “I have noticed nothing of the sort.”

“Princess Zenzi,” Okoye projected her image into the middle of the throne room as the king spoke. “has been a constant thorn in Wakanda’s side for the past several years. Our wardogs in Niganda have collected intelligence that proves to be suspicious. She has gone underground. That plus the murdered Border tribesmen leads me to believe an attack is imminent.”

The elders all started speaking over eachother.

“Murdered?”

“How is her disappearance proof of anything? Whoever killed our men could have gotten to her, too.”

“How do we know the murderer isn't Wakandan? We cant just go accusing other countries and starting wars, your highness.”

“Enough!” T’Challa’s voice carried through the room. “I am the king and this is merely a courtesy. We will be adding extra security to our borders. Next on the agenda?”

T’Challa had grown tired of trying to convince the council of a threat without proof beyond his panther senses. He didn’t normally like to exert his power over them, but they refused to listen to him.

The meeting continued without incident and even adjourned a little early. T’Challa’s orders regarding security would be put into place immediately, with warriors from every tribe being deployed to the border within the hour. T’Challa stayed in the throne room after everyone left, contemplating what to do next. He didn’t realize how much time had passed until he noticed the shadows were cast in a slightly different direction than when the meeting ended. He shook himself out of his head and left the throne room heading for his quarters to get ready for the night ahead with his woman.

Across town, Ashanti had just started getting ready when there was a knock at the door. She checked the time on her beads, “Huh, this is early even for him.”

She threw on her robe and went downstairs to answer the door since her roommates were staying with their significant others. When she opened the door she was confused at the sight before her.

“What are you doing here?”

Aneka and Ayo, two of T’Challa’s Dora Milaje, stood on her doorstep.

“Sister Ashanti, we have been sent to guard you until the king arrives. There have been some security concerns and he wants to keep you safe.” Ayo said to her.

Ashanti thought back to their conversation earlier and the look on his face when he told her of what was going on. She knew he was worried for her safety so she let them in.

“Make yourself at home, I’m just going to finish getting ready upstairs,” she said as she ran back to her room to put on her outfit and take her hair down from the bantu knots she had been wearing all day. She sang along to one of her new favorite albums as she beat her face, Mariah Carey’s voice providing the perfect soundtrack for the night ahead.

She slipped on her dress and zipped up the back before turning to check herself out in the mirror. However, when she looked up she almost had a heart attack.

“Aneka!” she gasped, “you scared me. Is something wrong?”

Within seconds Aneka was next to Ashanti stabbing a syringe into her neck. The last thing Ashanti remembered before blacking out is the sinister smile on Ayo’s face as she sauntered into the room.

_______

He felt something was wrong the moment he walked up to the door. He called on his suit and went around back, climbing up the wall to get to Ashanti’s window. He slid it open and quietly stepped through. Only the faint smell of her remained...and someone else’s he couldn't quite place. He knew it had to be an inside job because there was no sign of struggle. She let whoever in willingly.

His kimoyo beads went off and he answered quickly, needing to act fast.

“My king-”

“General, Ashanti has been taken. I need a search party to go out immediately to look for her and-”

“My king, it was Ayo and Aneka. They just stole a Dragonflyer and flew out of the shield before we could catch them. We tracked them to Niganda.”

A fire blazed in T’Challa’s stomach. The border attacks had been a misdirect, the real threat was just a few feet away from him the whole time. It was obvious they were working for Zenzi, but why and what purpose did Ashanti serve in all this?

He made his way back to the palace quicker than he ever had before. He knew Shuri was aware of the situation, but he needed in-person backup for what was ahead. He called all the people he knew he needed to ensure the rescue mission was successful, then alerted Ashanti’s parents and had them and her roommates brought to the palace.

M’Baku arrived in an hour, and it would take about 8 hours for Nakia and N’Jadaka to arrive on the Royal Fang. In that time, the four of them along with Shuri,Okoye, and Bucky hatched a plan to find and rescue Ashanti then hopefully bring an end to Zenzi’s reign of terror. The soldier and the prince took the lead on the latter end of the mission, while T’Challa spearheaded the rescue efforts. Shuri had been able to track the Dragonflyer’s exact location to a rainforest on the far side of Niganda and the rest of them moved out.

At the same time, Ashanti woke up with her entire body feeling like it was weighed down by lead. She tried to open her eyes, but everything was blurry. Her head was fuzzy and as the feeling came back to her limbs, she attempted to move. She blinked her eyes and tried to wiggle the pins and needles out of her legs, only to find that they had been restrained. She tried to move her hands and was met with the same resistance. Ashanti panicked and opened her eyes fully to take in her surroundings. What she saw chilled her to the bone.

A woman in green, surrounded by heavily armed men in military uniforms stared up at her from the other side of what looked to be a throne room.

“Oh good, she’s awake. Hello Ashanti, do you know who I am?” asked the woman as she stalked towards her hostage.

“N-no.”

“Luckily for you, I’m feeling nice today and I won’t take offense to that. I am Princess Zenzi of Niganda. You’ve heard of Niganda, right?” she teased.

“Y-yes, it is right next to us, but what do you want with me?”

“Nothing much, you’re just bait,” Zenzi said with a sinister smile creeping up her face.

“Bait? For what?” Ashanti just couldn’t understand what the evil princess would want from her.

Zenzi rolled her eyes at Ashanti’s naivety.

“Your boyfriend. That lovesick idiot is going to bring the whole calvary to come rescue his poor little defenseless girlfriend,” she mocked Ashanti, “and while all his power players are out of the way, my soldiers will sneak in, steal the heart shaped herb and the throne.”

“The people of Wakanda will never accept you as queen!”

“Oh honey, like they’d accept you? Peasant!” Zenzi laughed in her face. “They don’t have to want me as queen, I will simply make them obey.”

“Obey?”

“Yes, child, obey. Is the word foreign to you?”

“N-no ma’am. I just don't under-”

Ashanti was cut off by a splitting pain in her head and a ringing in her ears. She started to hyperventilate as the walls felt like they were closing in.

“Obey me, it is simple.”

The pain grew and her eyes watered before it all subsided and she felt like a shell of herself.

“What was that?” Ashanti cried out, trying to even out her breathing while the aftershocks of the pain still pulsed through her.

“That was how I’m going to take over Wakanda.” she got up to leave before turning back to her armed soldiers. “Break off a little something for me to send the king.”

Ashanti panicked and began to scream.

“Please! No! I-I’ll cooperate I swear to Bast, just-” she was interrupted by the same horrible feeling from earlier. The last thing she remembered before she passed out was a sharp pain in her left hand and Zenzi’s dark laughter.

Ashanti woke up in a different room. This one was dark, damp, and musty. She tried to move but a lingering pain in her head made it almost impossible. She was finally able to push herself up when she felt a throbbing pain in her hand. She looked down and screamed again, her left pinky was gone and all that was left in its wake was a poorly bandaged nub. Ashanti became hysterical and two soldiers came in to get her to stop. Ashanti assumed they would sedate her just like Aneka, but their methods were more hands-on.

When they left, she felt her face begin to swell and felt blood running from a cut on her forehead. It hurt to breathe and it hurt to cry, so Ashanti sat there in complete silence, numbing herself to her surroundings. She knew she had to survive somehow, but the only thing she could do to distract herself and pass the time was sing along in her head to the music she had just been listening to before she was kidnapped.

Somehow I know that

There's a place up above

With no more hurt and struggling

Free of all atrocities and suffering

Because I feel the unconditional love

From one who cares enough for me

To erase all my burdens

And let me be free to

She wasn’t sure how much time she spent in that little windowless room, but it felt like a lifetime. The soldiers returned twice, each time causing more harm until she was barely conscious. After the third time they beat her, she was ready to give up. She closed her eyes and prayed to Bast that she would be taken away, singing to the goddess in her head.

Fly like a bird

Take to the sky

I need you now, Lord

Carry me high

Don't let the world break me tonight

I need the strength of you by my side

Sometimes this life can be so cold

I pray you'll come and carry me home

Can we recover?

Will the world ever be

A place of peace and harmony

With no war and with no brutality?

If we loved each other

We would find victory

But in this harsh reality

Sometimes I'm so despondent

That I feel the need to

Fly like a bird

Take to the sky

I need you now, Lord

Carry me high

Don't let the world break me tonight

I need the strength of you by my side

Sometimes this life can be so cold

I pray you'll come and carry me home

The last things Ashanti heard as she passed out were gunshots and screaming in the distance. She knew Bast had heard her prayers and that she would either be rescued or brought home to the ancestral plane.

_______

Nakia and M’Baku were the first to find her almost lifeless body. He carried her out to the Royal Talon, but was intercepted by a brokenhearted T’Challa.

“Is she-”

“No, there is still a faint pulse, but we have to get her back right now,” Nakia interrupted her friend. The three of them returned to the ship with the rest of their team. The threat had been neutralized and Zenzi had been ambushed on her way into Wakanda, not realizing they expected her to try to grab the throne. She was sedated and placed into a special prison cell that would neutralize her powers.

All was right again, except weeks passed and Ashanti still hadn’t woken up. Her roommates kept her room decorated with her favorite flowers while her parents tried to make her as comfortable as possible. All T’Challa could do was hold her hand and pray to Bast that she woke up. And pray, he did. Every chance he got he would call out to Bast and the Ancestors to watch over her and bring her back to him.

Little did he know, his prayers were working, just not in the way he expected. Ashanti may not have been awake on this plane, but in the ancestral plane she and her grandfather Taj heard every one of T’Challa’s prayers.

“That man loves you, nugget. You should go back to him,” Taj said to Ashanti as they sat by a beautiful lake, watching her hospital room through the magical waters.

“I want to, Umakhulu, but,” she sighed, “it hurts too much still. What if it happens again? Or something worse? I didn’t think about how being with him would put a target on my back. He should have told me!” She broke down crying for the third time that week and Taj simply held her and let her cry.

“I know I need to go back home, but I’m scared.”

“Look at me, Ashanti,” Taj said with a firm yet soft voice. She was shocked, he almost never called her by her name. “You are a Mostafa, you do not run from things, do you hear me? Now, as much as I love having you here with me you and I both know it is not your time. Look at your parents, how worried they are. Those roommates of yours are going to give you allergies with all the pollen they keep bringing into the room-”

Ashanti laughed through her tears and snot.

“-and the king? He would move heaven and earth just to see your eyes open again. You have to go home, nug.”

His words sank in and she knew he was right. She had to go, but she knew things would never be the same. She stared at T’Challa through the water and sighed before wading in.

Back in the plane of the living, T’Challa’s head rested on the side of her bed while he clung to her. His prayer was interrupted by a light squeeze of his hand, and T’Challa lifted his tear-stained face to look at his now awake lover.

“Uthando!” He threw himself across her healed body and pulled her into a hug, tears streaming down his face while he thanked Bast for hearing him. He pulled back when he noticed she wasn’t returning the embrace.

“My love, is something wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“No, I-”

“Thank Bast, my baby!” Bisa and Chidi entered the room and ran to their child. She nearly jumped into their arms and the three of them sobbed together. Next to visit were Kwame and Binta, who received a similar greeting. T’Challa couldn’t help but compare her reactions to them with her reaction to him, and then it hit him. She blamed him for the attack, just like he already blamed himself.

Next to visit was the royal family, the princess checking her vitals and making sure all was well.

“My dear, it is so good to have you back with us,” Ramonda said warmly, giving her a hug.

“Yeah, this one here almost drove me crazy asking a million and one questions about your progress every day,” Shuri gestured towards her brother and Ashanti’s eyes dropped. T’Challa saw it happen and it was as if someone had stabbed him in the heart. He wasn’t the only one that noticed.

“Can we have the room, please?” Chidi asked the visitors. One by one they all left, T’Challa lingering a little longer not wanting to leave.

“Go get some rest, dear,” Bisa told him as he left the room, shoulders drooping.

“Now, what was that?” Chidi asked his daughter.

“What was what?” she tried to play coy.

“You barely acknowledged T’Challa the whole time we’ve been in here. He was at your bedside every day, torn up about-“

“Mama, I know. I saw it,” she sighed. They both looked at her, confused.

“You...saw it? How?”

“The ancestral plane. I was there with umakhulu watching through some special lake...it’s hard to explain, but he says hi.”

Chidi and Bisa were dumbstruck.

“But you weren’t dead, how could you go there?”

“I have no idea, Baba.”

“H-how did he look?” Chidi asked about his father, tears in his eyes.

“He looked good. Still called me Nugget...he made me come back.”

“Made you? Baby you didn’t want to come back home?” Bisa asked with concern in her voice.

“No, mama. I’m scared of it happening again.” She hung her head and tears started to fall.

“Oh sithandwa...my intyatyambo...they caught Zenzi, you’re safe now.” Chidi pulled his daughter in close.

“Ok but who else is out there wanting to get to him through me?! I can’t, I just can’t-“ she broke down again and her parents shared an understanding glance. They knew when their daughter made up her mind there was no changing it.

“You can’t what dear?”

“Be with him anymore.”

_______

“Just like that?” N’Jadaka asked his cousin, passing him back his bottle of whiskey.

“Just like that.” T’Challa said drunkenly while he took it to the head. Nakia looked on with concern.

“How many bottles have you had, T’Challa? I didn’t think you could even get this drunk anymore with the herb in your system.” She sat down next to him and he laid his head on her shoulder.

“I stopped counting after the third one.”

Nakia turned her glare on the prince for enabling him.

“And you let him get like this?!”

“Hell yeah. He needs to get drunk and mope around for a little bit then he’ll get back to normal in no time.”

Nakia could’ve slapped him.

“N’Jadaka,” she started while holding the bridge of her nose, “you weren’t here when we broke up or when he broke up with Ororo or when Monica dumped him...this isn’t how you deal with heartbroken T’Challa.”

She snatched the bottle out of his hand and went to pour it down the sink. T’Challa tried to stop her but his motor skills weren’t good enough.

“No, no, no, that’s good whiskey!”

“Too late. Now get up.”

“Nakia I don’t think-“

“Nope, zip it. No more from you, prince. Let’s go Challa.”

“But-“

“Don’t make me call Queen Mother on you.”

He shot up and immediately regretted it, teetering on his heels as the room spun.

“Woah, I don’t like this,” he slurred.

“Yeah, no shit. Come on.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“To visit your sister. N’Jadaka, a little help?”

The three of them made their way to Shuri’s lab and the moment he saw her he broke out of their hold.

“Usisi!” He wrapped her in a bear hug and she could smell the alcohol on him as stared wide-eyed at Nakia and N’Jadaka.

“Is he-”

They both nodded as T’Challa booped Shuri’s nose and fell out laughing. N’Jadaka was trying really hard to keep a straight face at the whole situation.

“Shuri is there something you can do to sober him up? It's the middle of the day and he still has things on his schedule,” Nakia worried about her friend, who had wandered to a table and laid down.

“I can, but it’ll take a while. It might be better to just have N’Jadaka run things today.”

The two women shared a look of dread before turning to the prince who had a smile on his face.

“Oh come on, I’m not gonna ruin the country again. On Bast.”

“Yes, well since I wont be assisting you this time I’ll appoint Nakia in my absence.”

N’Jadaka sucked his teeth in annoyance but agreed. He and Nakia were cordial and worked together well, but never got along outside of work. Probably because he’s still hung up on the fact that Nakia’s girlfriend Janelle used to be in his rotation back in the day.

“Aight, fine. Damn, you kill the king once and that’s all anybody can talk about…” he continued mumbling under his breath. The women rolled their eyes and turned back to each other.

“Ok so now that we got that set- awww look at him. Ew nevermind, he’s drooling,” Shuri said while watching her brother take a nap on the operating table.

“Shuri, I’ve never seen him like this before.”

“Not even when Monica dumped him?” Shuri asked her friend and one-time almost sister-in-law.

“Nope.”

“Who is this Monica chick?”

“Long story,” they responded in unison.

“Aight well, if y’all have this handled I have a council meeting to run so...deuces.”

N’Jadaka jogged up the ramp as the two women said goodbye and Nakia followed after him. Shuri turned to her brother and sighed. She knew why he was like this, not only had he been dumped, but he blamed himself for the whole situation. He felt he should’ve seen the misdirect coming earlier, focusing the military efforts on the borders instead of fishing out potential spies. He felt guilty that two of his own trusted Dora Milaje had been brainwashed by Zenzi’s powers and forced into servitude. He felt guilty that his love faced unspeakable violence while held hostage. Most importantly, he blamed himself for not getting to her house in time to protect her.

Shuri let him sleep and hooked him up to an IV to sober him up. He slept for about three hours before he began to stir.

“Sis- ah!” His head felt like it was splitting down the middle and his mouth felt like he had swallowed cotton. She dimmed the lights before handing him a glass of water.

“According to your blood alcohol levels you drank six bottles of whiskey. Six. Are you trying to harm yourself? So help me Bast, I will strap you to this tab-”

“Calm down sister, I just lost count after the third one. I don’t want to harm myself, just drown my sorrows.”

“Yes, well find a healthier way. If you end up here like this again you won’t like the result,” she said with a finality in her voice that made T’Challa shiver. “Can you walk?”

T’Challa slowly slid off the table, testing his balance before standing upright.

“Good, now get out. I was busy,” she said with a playful smirk on her face. The king made his way over to his sister before kissing her cheek and slowly heading up the ramp and out of her lab.

When she was sure he was gone, she pulled up Ashanti’s contact information and called her on her kimoyo beads. Within seconds, Ashanti’s 3-D projected form was in the palm of her hand.

“Shuri! How are you?” Ashanti was surprised to hear from the princess, but excited nonetheless. The two had grown close in her time with T’Challa and she missed Shuri’s sense of humor.

“I am well, or at least I was until a few hours ago. Are you sure about your decision, Ashanti? He is not taking it well.”

Ashanti looked down, grieving the loss of their relationship. Shuri, I love him. I do, but I can’t live looking over my shoulder. I found a therapist, but Shuri I can’t unsee and unfeel what was done to me, and being with your brother paints a giant target on my back. I just can’t-” she fought to hold back tears.

“I understand. I mean, I don't, but I do. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Got an extra pinky lying around somewhere?”

The two laughed, lightening the mood.

“I don’t, but I could make you one. I made a whole arm a couple years ago, I can handle a pinky. Do you want it to look real or robotic?”

“Real, please. I can’t be walking around here looking like a cyborg, I don't know how Bucky does it.”

“You’ve got it, I’ll let you know when it’s ready.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, sister.”

‘Shuri-”

“Aht, you will always be my sister.”

Ashanti smiled and waved goodbye to the teenager before ending the call.

Next chapter

#cecewritessometimes #black panther fic #t'challa #t'challa x oc #black!oc #playlist #smut #angst

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asteriismos · 4 years

Text

get lucky - richie tozier

warning(s) : innapropriate relationship, stepbrother! richie tozier, hate sex, smut, richie being an annoying stepbrother, college! losers, for some reason all the losers are in california i dont know

words : 3.6k

request(s) :

If you don’t have anything against step-bro fics can I pls request stepbro Richie smut that ends with them getting caught😳👀

hate sex smut imagine with richie pleaseee?🥺🤧

you hated how much your mother was in love with wentworth tozier. and you hated it so much that you were dreading summer break, because over winter break the two of them had gotten married and it was the first fucking time you even met the man. wentworth was a dentist, which was oh so evident by the way that he literally stared at your teeth the second he greeted you, but he seemed nice enough.

even though you met him the night before they were tying the knot in their relationship. your mother has never been the best with giving you information on her life, which you didn’t really mind considering you were off in college worrying about college things.

but the worst thing about your mothers marriage to wentworth was not the fact that her last name was now tozier ( which you questioned was even a real last name or not ) or the fact that now you had to get to know an older man that wasn’t your dad. it came in the form of your new stepbrother, richie tozier.

if there was one nice thing you could say about richie ( and trust me, for you that was hard ), it was that he could be funny. key word ‘could’. but it wasn’t funny when he would pick at every single thing that you did, constantly teased you for all the little things. it pissed you off more than you could even explain. you swore that you were so close to punching him in the face at the little reception after the tiny wedding, when he kept pushing your buttons for no goddamn reason.

you’re such a prude y/n!

do you ever stop complaining?

richie had already drove you up the fucking walls after one night of being graced with his presence, and you had absolutely no idea how you were going to handle an entire summer with him.

you lived in california, you had all your life. so it was natural for you to apply to colleges there or around there, not that money was really an issue because your mother worked for a very large law firm and made a lot of money. that’s why you were able to stay at the dorms for school, not seeing your mother except for when you were there for holidays. your childhome was big, but it now felt considerably small now that your new family members moved in.

it seemed like everywhere you went in your house, richie ended up there, talking to you and breaking the peace between you two constantly.

that’s why you made it your mission to avoid him as much as possible. you had dealt with boys like this before, if you just didn’t give them any attention, they would get bored and go off to do different things.

except richie didn’t seem to be getting the memo, the lack of attention made him just seek out for it even more than before.

today was one of those instances, where you were sitting out by the side of the pool alone. your mother and wentworth were in one of the rooms upstairs painting it to make it a new office space for her. the color was some ugly green color and when wentworth asked if you wanted to help, you shook your head and said pass. sunbathing sounded better than trying to get along with your new family.

your eyes scanned over the words of your book. you had promised your friend ( who was an english major ) that you’d read it, even though it was a little weird. it was lolita by vladimir nabokov, about some guy who fell in love with a younger girl.

“an erotic novel, nice.”

you glanced up from your book to be met with richie, eyes through his glasses staring right at yours. they trailed down to your lips, and then down farther, but he quickly composed himself and looked instead at the book, motioning to it.

you scoffed. “not really. it’s honestly weird as hell.” your eyes went back to reading the words, hoping that he would get the memo that you didn’t want to talk to him and he would go away.

but he didn’t, or at least if he did he dismissed it, pulling off his shirt and setting it down on the beach chair next to yours. from behind your sunglasses, you watched him strip down into just his swim trunks, thanking god that the sunglasses shielded your eyes from his vision. he couldn’t see that you were borderline checking him out.

it was wrong. you were convinced that there was a special place in hell for people who thought that their step siblings were hot, but nonetheless you still did it anyways.

now he was talking, but because of your staring you didn’t catch the first part of what he was saying. richie’s mouth was moving and all you were thinking about were his lips trailing down . . .

“ . . . if you wanted to go with me?” richie finished, giving you a confused look when all you gave back was a blank stare. your brain tried to figure out what he had said before you tuned in, or try and make up an excuse about why you weren’t listening. you figured that telling the truth about you checking him out and thinking about him eating you out for hours.

you pushed your sunglasses up to your voice and squinted at him, “what’d you say?”

richie gave you yet another confused look, shaking his head and saying, “i asked if you wanted to go to this frat party that me and some of my friends are going to.”

“why would i do that with you?”

richie laughed. “i literally just explained that. did you go braindead for a whole minute? my dad and your mom want to have a night to themselves tonight at the house and want us gone. do i need to elaborate or can you read through the lines?”

you cringed outwardly and inwardly, shaking your head. “no, i get it. gross, okay yeah fine whatever i’ll go.” you’d do whatever you needed to do to get out of the house to not have to deal with whatever your parents got up to.

the music blared loudly in your ears as you walked into the rather large frat house. you looked around at the people in the entrance way, seeing that there was a mixture of boys and girls, and definitely a lot of people here. it would be hard to keep track of everyone in the group that you came with.

richie picked up three other people that apparently have been his friends since childhood. you felt incredibly out of place as they all talked to each other in the car, you kept your arms crossed in front of your chest and basically pouted in the passengers seat of your stepbrothers car. even though you had agreed to go to this thing, you were still mad that you were going with richie. or were you?

“can you at least try not to act like such a prude while we’re here? jesus y/n you look like someone killed your cat,” richie said, jokingly poking the small of your back. you yelped, jumping forward and glaring at him.

you felt a hand on your shoulder. “hey! lay off richie, god.” his friend beverly, who had firey red hair and seemed to be the only girl in their little group, said. she pulled you close to her by the side and gave you a kind smile. “don’t let him get under your skin, y/n, if you can believe it, he teases the people he loves.”

“no thanks,” you joked, walking beside her with the rest of the group following to the kitchen to get drinks. you took one of the red solo cups and took a sip of the concoction in there. it tasted like strong beer, maybe a hint of vodka? it was all masked with a cherry aftertaste. it surprisingly wasn’t bad for something made at a frat.

they all followed suit, one of the members of your tiny group ( who’s name you learned to be stanley ) cringed after just one sip of the drink. you couldn’t help but laugh, giving him a cocky smile. “can’t hold your alcohol stanley?”

richie pushed into your line of vision, “no, he’s just a wuss.” stanley squinted at your stepbrother and pushed him in the shoulder lightly. “am not, beep beep richie.”

you cocked your head to the side in confusion at the saying. beverly, stan, and mike all just laughed. richie did not, instead he huffed and stood there like a pouty child. the saying seemed to shut him up, maybe you’d have to use that on richie so he would shut the fuck up once in a while when he was annoying you.

the party raged on, more and more people started to pour their way into the large house. you found a place on the dancefloor with beverly, dancing with her to the loud upbeat music that played. every once in a while mike would come over and dance with you two and you would smile and laugh with your newfound friends. richie would come over once in a while, make some snarky comment your way, then leave.

the one person who you haven’t danced with is stanley, who was standing on the outskirts of the party. he sipped at his drink idly and ran a hand through his curls. from time to time a girl would come over to him, and he would pass them up,

it intrigued you.

you walked over to stanley and gave him a smile, looking around at the crowd and pointing at richie. “so why do you guys say beep beep richie?”

stan laughed, taking a sip of his drink. the smell of alcohol became that much more prevalent as some coated his lips. “when we were younger and richie would talk too much, we would all go ‘beep beep richie’ to get him to shut up. we don’t use it as much anymore because we grew out of it. but it works from time to time.”

you nodded, smirking. looking around the room, your eyes caught richie, chatting up some girl. from time to time his eyes would look across the room at you. and when he saw that you were talking to stan, he squinted through his bottle cap glasses. sticking your tongue out at him, you turned your attention back to stan.

“do you wanna dance?”

and he didn’t get the chance to say no, because you were already pulling him out into the crowd of people dancing. you took his drink from his hand and set it down, wrapping your arms around his neck.

you both rocked to the music, hips swaying to the beat. you turned around so that your back was facing him and reached behind you to grab his hands, putting them on your lower waist. then you made eye contact with richie, who was basically staring you down at this point, and grinded your ass into stans hips.

you heard a gasp from behind you that was no doubt stan, but both of you were too intoxicated to really think anything of it. he instead moved his hips against you, hands running up and down your body. your eyes never left richies, watching him completely drop his drink onto the girls’ shoes he was talking to. then he was walking closer and closer to you, grabbing you by your wrist and pulling you slightly away from stan.

“what the fuck are you doing?” richie asked you, his eyes dark with anger. he looked genuinely upset, and to be honest he had no right to be. he wasn’t your boyfriend, he wasn’t even really your brother. so if he was trying to play some sort of ‘overprotective act’ it wasn’t working.

you just gave him a little smile. “just dancing with stan,” you slurred. “jealous much?”

richie didn’t answer, only laughing a little bit at how drunk you actually were. he gave stan a look and shrugged his shoulders, “she’s really drunk, sorry. i should get her home. can you guys find a ride?”

the rest of the night is blank in your memory.

you woke up to the sound of dishes clanking downstairs in the kitchen, causing you to groan once your eyes were opening. the very obvious hangover that you were experiencing was hard not to feel.

still dressed in last nights clothes, you tried to recal what had happened last night to get you this drunk. all you could remember was drinking some kind of random drink from the party and dancing with richie’s friend stan. the rest was pretty fuzzy.

eventually you made your way downstairs, seeing that it was richie who made the noise in the kitchen. no one was in sight. you looked at the clock and it read that it was 2 in the afternoon. some night it must’ve been.

“good morning, here’s some asprin,” richie said to you, passing over the small bottle across the kitchen counter.

you nodded a thank you and reached to grab a glass of water. “where’s my mom?”

“beach day,” richie replied, shrugging his shoulders. “so are you and stan like a thing? because i did not see that coming.”

you groaned, “do you have to talk so much? I just woke up and i don’t need you blabbering. and so what if i like stan or not, it’s not like you’re the one to control me.”

“yes I am.”

you scoffed, actually laughing at what he had said just a second ago. he thinks he can control you? as if.

“you’re a fucking dick richie. i’m sorry you’re jealous of me dancing with stan last night. sorry you didn’t get your dick wet because of me,” you said, taking the glass of water up to your room and giving him no more of your attention.

as soon as you closed the door and set the water down, you heard the door to the room open and close again. “jesus fucking christ rich, get over it. you’re an asshole.”

“you’re such a fucking brat, you know that?” richie said to you, pushing you onto your bed and immediately coming in between your legs. his hot breath fanned your face, pressing a harsh kiss to your lips and trailing down your neck.

teeth bit into your sensitive skin, breaking the blood capulets on your neck and creating purple splotchy marks all along it. you moaned out at the feeling, pushing your hips against his hips in an attempt to alleviate some of the pressure that was falling in between your legs.

he laughed along your skin. “needy. all for me? for your stepbrother? don’t you think that’s a little wrong, y/n?” he kissed all the way back up to your lips, your bottom lip coming in between his teeth.

he pulled it away and let go, letting it snap back against your mouth. you whined, hands flying to the black tufts of hair on his head. richie kissed you, stifling any more whiney noises you made.

his hands came down and pushed the end of your shirt up just enough to expose your breasts. the cold air brushed against them and you shuttered. richie palmed at them, still kissing you. his hands were big enough to fit all around your breasts, and his thumb came to pinch your nipple.

you yelped, pulling away from him and staring daggers at him. “that hurt.” but you fed into his touch, your own body going against your mind. you involuntarily pressed your chest against his hand.

he only chuckled, giving you that classic richie grin.

“doesn’t look like you mind much, sweets,” he said, one of his hands going down and slipping underneath the fabric of your pants.

richie’s fingers grazed along your clothed clit, a smirk growing on his face when his fingertips pressed harshly on the wet spot that was in them. instead of teasing you like he usually would’ve, he just hooked the fabric away, sliding his finger along your slit.

you moaned at the contact, pulling his hair with a force that probably hurt. he didn’t seem to mind, giving his own moan while pushing one singular finger into you.

his finger curled up in a come here motion and you almost screamed, biting your lip so that you wouldn’t give him the pleasure of knowing he had such an effect over you. he could see through your bullshit quite clearly, pushing another two fingers into you and not moving.

richie had three fingers in you that he wasn’t moving, watching you squirm against his hand to create some kind of pleasure. but with his other hand he held your hips down, keeping you from moving at all.

“i want to hear you beg for it.”

“for fucks sake, richie,” you said, eyes opening to look at him.

his chest pressed against your own as he leaned in, “beg. or i’ll leave you to finger fuck yourself.”

for a moment you thought that you weren’t going to do it, mostly because of your pride and ego. the pleasure that awaited you took over though and you opened your mouth to say, “please richie. fuck me with your fingers. stretch me out. i need you.” your cheeks burned in embarrassment at your words, knowing that he would never let you live that down.

“good girl.”

he spared not a moment more, fingers setting at an unbelievably fast pace as they pumped in and out of you. his thumb massaged figure eights on your clit and you knew that you weren’t going to last long.

for some reason the thought of richie being your stepbrother was hotter, and made you almost even more wet. your arousal slicked the inside of your thighs while he kept his pace.

your head arched back, feeling him hit your g spot every single time his fingers fucked into you.

soon enough you were cumming, opening your eyes and seeing blurry vision. richie kept pumping his fingers, mouth finding home on your breasts to give you more hickies there. you didn’t know how you were going to be able to hide all of them. that fucker.

you took a minute to catch your breath and for that moment richie wasn’t touching you at all, which made you miss his touch more than you were willing to admit. you heard the sound of pants unzipping and soon enough richie was in between your legs, this time his cock in his hands as he pumped lazily. you took no time to push your pants and panties down onto the floor.

you gave him a look when he aligned in your enterance. he was thick, which now made sense as to why he fucked you with three fingers, even though he was still way bigger than the width of three fingers.

all you could think about was him filling you up and fucking you until you saw stars.

richie pushed into you, groaning at the feeling of you around him, tight and wet. he couldn’t believe that he took this long to fuck you. but now all that pent up tension was coming up right now, richie was already so wound up from hearing you beg for him.

once he bottomed out, he pulled out, pushing back in. you hissed at the feeling, not all the way used to the feeling of him stretching you out but loving it anyways. he buried himself into you like he owned you and you loved it.

his hands came to your hips and thrusted in and out with such force that your whole body moved with every single rut into you. he shed no mercy, hitting that one spot every single time mercilessly.

your hands fumbled to touch him, anywhere you possibly could. eventually you made your way to his back, fingernails digging into his skin enough to probably draw blood. you scratched up and down, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

your breasts bounced up and down with every thrust, the shirt pushed all the way up to your neck was getting soaked with your own sweat. the heat in the room was almost unbearable, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

he grabbed your thigh and hoisted it up, moaning at the new angle that he hit within you. your eyes teared up with the pleasure that coursed through you, once again about to hit that brink once again. you were already pretty sensitive from the previous orgasm.

“richie, i’m going to cum,” you moaned out.

“I know baby, let it out for me,” he responded, hand falling down to your clit.

that sent you over with a scream, the coil that had been winding in you finally snapped, sending you over the edge flying.

with his thrusts helping you ride your orgasm out, you felt completely fucked out. mind blank, legs starting to hurt from the angle he was holding them in. soon his thrusts faltered and he was cumming, hot liquid shooting through you. he pulled out and gave you a goofy look, pulling up his boxers and searching for his pants on the floor.

you closed your legs, feeling some of his cum fall down into your thighs. you pulled your shirt back down and put your panties on.

right as you were about to say something, your door opened.

it was your mom and wentworth, looking at both of you with shock in their eyes.

oh fuck.

“you two,” your mother said, almost too angry to speak. “have a lot of explaining to do.”

#richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier imagine #richie tozier smut #stanley uris #bill denbrough #mike hanlon #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #eddie kaspbrak #IT movie #it movie imagine #it movie 2017 #it movie x reader #it movie 2019 #smut

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mommydragon-of-all · 3 years

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5,7,10,13,14,15 for your boy! :3

Aww thank you for asking, lets see da boi then!

5. Did your muse have any sweet childhood romances?

No. His childhood got upended quite early and he found himself in a constant chaos so to speak, newer even staying long at one place or in one group of people. Too much instability for such things to take root, too focused on survival and training to get strong enough to live well and fear nothing. ...until he was around 15 and thought himself oh so grown and ready for anything, only to be ruthlessly taken advantage of by his first crush who was... 23 at the time. (Yeah u could have friggin EXPECTED it u fool, the moment he took interest in your interest, no matter how skilled con man he was all around, geez.)

7. Did your muse have a favorite childhood story or fable?

When he was still very smol, living with his parents in his clan, he was fascinated by heroic tales of adventurers and such, even some of the elven legends and beliefs. But he only remembers pieces like the atmosphere around the campfire, the warmth of the flames and his fathers hold, the taste of snacks. Such bits. The elven lore stays in that category for him, fairytales that possibly originated from some real life events and people, highly distorted.

10. Does your muse like to cook? Would they cook with another?

He absolutely sucks at cooking. On a dangerous level. He newer had the care or patience or time or even need to learn it. He prefers meat raw for f*cks sake XD (likely bc of all the blood magic induced changes, but thats also the reason why he can have it raw, and why he craves fresh blood regularly) Nobody in their right mind would prefer him to cook.

Whatever he "fixes" for himself is either raw, or undercooked, just for the warmth and dash of flavors. And he doesnt feel the need to change that. He does like tasty prepared food tho, loves the warmth and loooooves spices, and those can taste different cooked. Also, pastries and such, yumm. But whenever theres no access to buy some good food hes perfectly fine with the fresh meat he hunts, some fruits on the side or sometimes even some kinds of veggies.

Keeps dry rations all the time with him too, because he needs an insane amount of calories a day (also thanks blood magic enhancements demanding more fuel) and cant risk getting stranded or something without food for much time and get weakened fast.

He would gladly help someone cook tho if they asked, and would enjoy watching them prepare it, the whole peaceful comfort of it, but for goodness sake only let him cut and clean things.

13. Are there any physical items that make your muse happy?

Hmm... He usually doesnt have any item thats not for use and that he wouldnt ditch for a better one without a blink. Even when he has a place to hoard things to, they dont actually matter much, even if he enjoys soft pillows and nice things.

However he is so very happy to receive any gift, no matter if its just a useless sad little flower or a bite of food (yes food pls, can win his favor like a puppys XD). Even if its absolutely not about the item but the show of care, i suppose that qualifies to mention here?

He also does steal clothing items from his beloved for their scent, and is very happy to have them XD. Until the scent fades and he sneaks it back.

14. Is there a particular place that makes your muse feel at home?

In his lovers arms. One and only place that feels home for him, and gosh he enjoys it.

The presence of his twin sister has a unique familiarity to it too, carried from childhood and honed through many hardships faced together, only trusting each other fully, but thats not exactly a... comfort zone XD They love each other with a silent ferocity only animals can match, but only ever make each others life more difficult and less peaceful.

15. Is there a type of music relaxes your muse?

Soren enjoys all sorts of music, and its another "people thing" hes fascinated by, but perhaps surprisingly, the music that relaxes him is usually the loud, merry, festive kind. The kind that blows the dark away, warms people up, coaxing them to let go, making it feel that all is right and tomorrow is far away with its problems. Creates that atmosphere of ease. Soren thrives in that. The worst to look out for in such bunch would be a "tavern brawl", which he also greatly enjoys to partake in XD

That aside, he also learns that if his lover sings softly to him, like a lullaby, that really relaxes and soothes him too, in a different, affectionate, peaceful way.

#Soren #Soren Lavellan #ask meme #i let myself be carried away again #but i miss writing him SO MUCH all the time #it piles up!

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possiblyawesometmblr · 4 years

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Unus Annus: A Complete Ranked List

well, now that every single video has been released, i’ve compiled them all into a complete ranked list, from best video to worst! this took way longer than it had any right to. (also, please note this is just my opinion, and in all honesty, this list was really hard because so many of these videos are fantastic. you could tell me that you’d rearrange anything in the 50-250 range and i’d probably agree with you.)

And if you don’t feel like going through the whole list, here’s Unus Annus ranked by month!

If the video is in: Top 50: 5 points 51 - 100: 4 points 101 - 150: 3 points 151 - 200: 2 points 201 - 250: 1 point 251 - 300: 0 points 300 or below: -1 point (Any ties settled by which month had the highest ranking video overall.)

November: 93 October: 72 December:70 September: 66 February: 66 August: 63 June: 60 January: 59 July: 53 May: 43 March: 37 April: 1

The Truth of Unus Annus (Oct. 31st)

Ethan Finally Becomes a MAN (Jan. 10th)

Phasmophobia in Real Life (Oct. 25th)

Mark and Ethan Attempt an Escape Room (Dec. 6th)

Hunting HeeHoo (Aug. 29th)

DIY Geriatric Simulator (Jan. 18th)

Recreating Every Single Unus Annus Video (Nov. 4th)

Mark Teaches Ethan to Read with Hooked On Phonics (Jun 6th)

Ethan Gives Mark a Viking Funeral (Dec. 9th)

Cooking with Sex Toys (Nov. 15th)

Mark Reviews the Impossible Burger But There’s a Looming Sense of Impending Doom (Dec. 13th)

Helium Therapy (Nov. 29th)

2 Truths and 1 Lie -- Waxing Edition (Nov. 26th)

Ethan Will Be Kicked in the Balls (Nov. 22nd)

Being Brutally Honest With Each Other (Nov. 3rd)

Would Chica Save Us From Drowning? (Jul. 24th)

Mark and Ethan are Now Fathers (Mar. 22)

Ethan Kidnapped Mark (Oct. 30th)

Mark’s Outdoor Escape Room (Aug. 28th)

The Unus Annus Last Supper (Nov. 2nd)

Mark and Ethan Go Casket Shopping (Jan. 11th)

The Sensory Overload Tank (Jan. 7th)

Mark and Ethan Summon a Ghost (Nov. 25th)

Mark Knows What Ethan Did… (Sep. 22nd)

Pee Sauna (Jun 17th)

We Made Nude Paintings of Each Other (Dec. 14th)

All of Our Video Ideas that Never Happened (Nov. 5th)

Mark Teaches Ethan How to March in a Marching Band (Sep. 4th)

Hiding Our Sins From Amy’s Holy Peepers (Jan. 2nd)

Our Perfect (and last) Valentine’s Day (Feb. 14th)

The Barrel - Official Music Video (Mar. 9th)

Edward Pumpkin Hands (Oct. 26th)

This Video Is Completely Unedited (Oct. 17th)

Ethan Teaches Mark How to Swim (Jun. 28th)

The Unus Annus Annual Sleepover (Nov. 12th)

Everything’s Legal if You’re Dead (Nov. 10th)

Harnessing Our Dogs’ Unlimited Energy (Dec. 23rd)

2 Grown Men Attempt the Presidential Fitness Test (Dec. 31st)

Learning to Breathe Underwater (Jan. 13th)

Playing Children’s Games in Total Darkness (Aug. 17th)

The Unus Annus Annual Costume Contest (Oct. 28th)

Saying Goodbye to All Our Guests (Nov. 9th)

We Got Pepper Sprayed (Mar. 10th)

The Cryptid Olympics (Oct. 24th)

Mark and Ethan Get Into a Fight (Mar. 8th)

Mark Punishes Ethan (Jan. 27th)

Ethan Watches as Mark Achieves the Impossible (Sep. 29th)

Drunk College Party Simulator (Feb. 15th)

God’s Fitness Test (Nov. 8th)

3 Big Boys Attempt the King’s Royal Fitness Test (Feb. 18th)

The Beginning of the End (Jul. 26th)

Mark Cooks Blindfolded While Ethan Guides Him Through FaceTime (May 22nd)

Pitching a Tent in the Woods But There’s a Bear 15 Feet Away (Aug. 22nd)

We Forced James Charles to Run a Military Obstacle Course (Mar. 23rd)

We Tried a Labor Pain Simulator (Mar. 20th)

The Bad Kind of Cupping (Nov. 20th)

Ethan Destroys Mark’s Van with a Bat (Dec. 7th)

Duct Tape Crucifixion (Amy, Please Don’t Watch This Video) (Dec. 29th)

A Bear Attacked Us in the Middle of the Night (Aug. 24th)

Mark and Ethan Look at a Puppy for 10 Minutes (Jul 7th)

Building the World’s First IKEA Boat (Jun 27th)

Goat Yoga (Feb. 22nd)

10 Strange Amazon Products Ethan Bought Mark Because He Doesn’t Know How To Spend Money Responsibly (Feb. 16th)

Top 10 Worst Things Your Friend Could Possibly Spend Their Money On (Feb 29th)

Fixing Mark’s Hole with Ramen But Every Time We Add Glue We Get 5% Closer to God (Jan. 14th)

Being Attacked By a Fully Trained Bodyguard Dog (Feb. 19th)

Preserving Ourselves in Wax (Dec. 26th)

Santa’s Mukbang (Drinking 1 Gallon of Eggnog) (Dec. 24th)

The Unus Annus Space Program (Jul 11th)

Ethan Explores Mark’s Haunted Basement (Dec. 17th)

Dummy THICC for Dummies | A Tale of Two Butts | Pushing Our Butts Even Further Beyond (Jul. 4th)

DIY Bungee Jump (please don’t try this) (Jan. 4th)

Unregulated Axe Throwing (Feb. 7th)

Making the Ultimate Unus Annus Burger (Sep. 15th)

How to Rescue a Cat from a Tree (Aug. 23rd)

Beer Sauna: Turning a Portable Sauna Into a Portable Hell (Mar. 16th)

The End of Unus Annus Is Almost Here… (May 15th)

We Accidentally Made an SCP While Amy Was Away (Sep. 13th)

We Play The Newlywed Game While Consuming That Which Will Kill the Other (May 23rd)

Building IKEA’s Hardest Piece of Furniture Without Instructions (Jun 18th)

Recharging Our Phones Using Only Brute Strength (Jul. 30th)

Eating Only Onions for 24 Hours: How Many Onions Does It Take to Kill a Man? (May 8th)

The Candy Bra Challenge (Jul 6th)

We Bought Every Grinch Costume on Ebay (Oct. 13th)

Only UNUS-es/ANNUS-es May Watch This Video (May 28th)

Only Watch From 2:25-6:11 --- DO NOT WATCH ANY OTHER PART OF THIS VIDEO (May 29th)

We Force Mark to Swim in the Ocean (HIS GREATEST FEAR) (Oct. 22nd)

Recreating The Miracle of Childbirth (Mar. 21st)

Making Our Own Sensory Deprivation Tank (Nov. 18th)

Turning Mark into an E-Boy (Feb. 2nd)

The First Annual Unus Annus Roast (Nov. 7th)

Reacting to Your Hilarious Green Screen Memes (Jun 5th)

The Ultimate Trolley Problem (Feb. 21st)

We Looked at Unus Annus Memes (Apr. 30th)

Exploring the Unus Annus Subreddit for Your Delicious Memes (May 16th)

BLACK LIVES MATTER: Resources and How You Can Help In The Description (Jun 2nd)

The Chubby Gummy Challenge (Dec. 4th)

Who Can Teach Their Dog a Trick the Fastest? (Mar. 5th)

Taped and Afraid (Dec. 20th)

We Played Strip Poker (May 20th)

Consuming the World’s Hottest Chip (Sep. 30th)

Mark and Ethan Learn About the Human Body (Jan. 26th)

1 Man 100 Accents (Dec. 1st)

Mark Steals Ethan’s Face (Jan. 15th)

Chickens Teach Us About Life and Death (Feb. 17th)

We Lubed Our Floor for a Sliding Competition (Aug. 3rd)

Mark Conquers His Fear of Night Swimming (Oct. 11th)

The Ultimate Paper Airplane Showdown (Jun 20th)

We Pierced Each Other’s Ears (Sep. 11th)

Crushing Watermelons Betwixt Our Mighty Thighs (Jun 3rd)

7 Minutes in Heaven | 7 Minutes in Hell (Nov. 11th)

Two Men in a Trench Coat Teach You How to Save Money at the Movies (Jun 26th)

Having an Adventure in VRChat Because We Can’t Go Outside (Mar. 27th)

Preparing a 5-Star Meal for Our YouTube Famous Dogs (Jul. 16th)

Mark and Ethan Shave Chica (Aug. 8th)

The Wubble (Aug. 7th)

How to Start a Fire (except don’t…) (Aug. 27th)

Unus Annus (Nov. 15th)

This Is Goodbye (Aug. 5th)

Puberty Simulator (Aug. 13th)

This Video Went Completely Out of Control (Oct. 1st)

This Video Will Never Make Sense (Sep. 23rd)

Blowing Our Souls into Some Hot Glass (Feb. 28th)

We Attempted to Create THICC Water (May 10th)

Brick Soccer (Sep. 19th)

Accepting the Truth (Nov. 1st)

Drinking Real THICC Water...How Bad Does It Taste? (May 19th)

How Far Can We Chuck a 16lbs Rock? (Sep. 10th)

Recreating Ourselves as a Cursed Mannequin (Jan. 8th)

Recreating Childhood Photos (Jun 13th)

Nutball: The Most Dangerous Game (Feb. 10th)

Mark Teaches Ethan How to Play the Trumpet (Aug. 1st)

How to Safely Bury Your Friend (Aug. 25th)

Mark Breaks His Nose on an Aerial Hoop (Oct. 4th)

DIY Bed of Nails: OH GOD, PLEASE DON’T EVER TRY THIS (Jul. 20th)

Pee Soda (Sep. 17th)

We Had to Drink Each Other’s Pee (Dec. 16th)

Creating Mark FISHbach (Jun 21st)

Making Our Own Gravestones to Prepare for Our Inevitable Demise (May 11th)

We Made Fanart for Each Other (Jun 11th)

Bear Trapping 101: An Elegant Knot for an Elegant Beast (Jun 25th)

Pressure Washing Our Sins Away (Oct. 21st)

Literally Finding a Needle in a Haystack (Oct. 8th)

We Ate Dog Treats so You Don’t Have To (Sept. 12th)

Giving Away Our 1,000,000 Subscriber Gold Play Button (Dec. 18th)

2 Idiots Get Crushed By 18-Ft Giant Snakes (Mar. 15th)

We Cryogenically Freeze Ourselves (Jan. 20th)

DO NOT OPEN UNTIL 2080 (May 27th)

Fighting Fish to the Death in the Deep Blue Sea (Oct. 23rd)

DIY Teeth (Jul. 17th)

We Attempt to Make UNHOLY Water (Sep. 24th)

We Attempt to Make Holy Water (Sep. 20th)

DIY Cheese (Jan. 29th)

Making an Indoor Tornado to Flex on Mother Nature (Feb. 9th)

Literally Eating Fire (Feb. 6th)

2 Absolute Beginners Experience the Dancing Glory that is Salsa (Jan. 17th)

Team Building for 2: Trust Fall, Tug-of-War, and More! (Aug. 26th)

The Great Ice Cream Cake Race (Sep. 27th)

The Unus Annus Confessional Booth (May 26th)

Blood Bath (Oct. 27th)

2 Dirty Boys Wash Their Filthy Mouths Out With Soap (Jun. 30th)

Who Can Make Themselves Taller? (Jan. 6th)

Mark and Ethan Share a Drink (Aug. 6th)

2 Adults Take a 4th Grade Math Test (Sep. 6th)

Bobbing for Literally Anything But Apples (Oct. 16th)

Momiplier Teaches Self Defense (Aug. 15th)

The Human Mop (Jul. 21st)

We Attempt Pottery Without Amy’s Help (Sep. 8th)

Becoming One With the Horse (Jun 19th)

Wikifeet: A Tale of Two Tootsies (Apr. 4th)

We Found Websites That the World Forgot About (Apr. 11th)

1 Gallon of Jello Nearly Broke Us (Aug. 20th)

We Finally Drank Our DIY Wine (Sep. 5th)

We Do It Better Than Icarus Ever Could (Jul. 25th)

We Turned Our Bodies Into Art (Jan. 25th)

You Blink, You Lose (Dec. 30th)

Can You Bake a Cookie from Cookie Dough Ice Cream? (Jul. 13th)

Mark Turns Ethan into a Mummy to Prepare Him for the Great Beyond (Dec. 3rd)

Ethan Turns Mark Into a Werewolf (Oct. 29th)

Making Soda with Literally Anything But Soda (Sep. 16th)

Dunking Oreos in Literally Anything But Milk (Jul. 15th)

Making Snow Cones With Literally Anything But Normal Flavors (Sep. 7th)

How Many Slaps Does it Take to Cook a Chicken? (Sep. 2nd)

Play Doh Thanksgiving (Nov. 28th)

Hot Dog’d to Death (Nov. 17th)

Mark and Ethan Build a Scarecrow (Oct. 20th)

Transforming Mark into the Eighth Wonder of the World (Aug. 16th)

Unus Annus Try Pole Dancing (Jul 8th)

Mark Teaches Ethan to Wrestle (Sep. 28th)

Ethan Teaches Mark Gymnastics (Sep. 26th)

Who’s Cutting Onions in Here? (Nov. 6th)

How to Escape from a Hostage Situation (Jul. 18th)

Are We Already Dead? (Feb. 13th)

Bored? Press This Button (Apr. 27th)

Judging Your Terrible Unus Annus Ideas (Aug. 10th)

This is for FUN and NOT a Fetish (Oct. 10th)

This is What Being Tased Feels Like (Jan. 21st)

Learning the Ancient Art of Chinese Archery (Feb. 20th)

Tearing a Phone Book in Half With Our Huge Manly Hands (May 31st)

Beating Inanimate Objects to Death (Dec. 27th)

Edible Slime was a Mistake. (Feb. 23rd)

We Eat Bugs (Jan. 3rd)

Amy Sent Us a Mystery Box (Sep. 21st)

Hydro Dipping a Baby (Aug. 11th)

The Egg Smashing Game (Jul. 12th)

BEYBLADE NUTBALL (Sep. 14th)

Discussing the Idea of Murdering Each Other But It’s Just a Joke and Definitely Not Serious Haha (Feb. 12th)

Mark is Guilty. Ethan Has the Proof. (Jul 1st)

Learning How to Lockpick (FBI Please Don’t Watch) (Jun 22nd)

Mark Needs to Rub Ethan and Only His Mom Can Help Him (Mar. 14th)

Learning to Use the Force (Sep. 18th)

The Secret Unus Annus No-Touchy-Touchy Hand Shake (Apr. 25th)

We Google Each Other to Find Our Darkest Forgotten Sins (Apr. 6th)

Shooting Archery ON A HORSE (Oct. 6th)

Ethan Redefines Male Beauty (Feb. 3rd)

Ethan Roasts Mark for 15 Minutes Straight (Jun 7th)

Playing Cards: The World’s Deadliest Weapon (Aug. 2nd)

Morphing Our Bodies Into Superhero Poses (Jun 4th)

Becoming a Master of Mime (Feb. 11th)

This is the Most Dangerous Children’s Toy Ever Made (Jul. 23rd)

A Serious Conversation Under the Stars (Jul. 29th)

Is Mark a Masochist? (May 1st)

Literally Laying On Literal Broken Glass (Feb. 8th)

Bad, Bad Beans (Jan. 23rd)

DIY Wine (May 30th)

2 Men 200 Accents (Apr. 18th)

DIY Boob (May 24th)

Mark and Ethan Go On a Drum Date (Feb. 27th)

10 Miracle Products to Give YOU the Thiccest Jaw On Planet Earth (Jun. 29th)

Ultimate Horseshoes (Jul. 28th)

Mark and Ethan Get a Full Body Scan to See What Secrets Lay Hidden Within (and learn their body fat) (Mar. 13th)

Acupuncture is NOT Painful (Dec. 11th)

What the Hell is a Pink Trombone? (May 2nd)

Donating Toys to Charity w/ Jacksepticeye (Dec. 22nd)

Poopsie Sparkly Critters (a slime surprise…) (Nov. 27th)

The Great Meat Mistake (Dec. 10th)

DIY Minesweeper (Oct. 7th)

Popping Popcorn with a High Powered Laser (Aug. 12th)

Bobbing for Apples but the Water Keeps Getting Thiccer (Oct. 3rd)

We Buy a Professional Hypnosis Video and React to It (Dec. 5th)

Long Hair, Do We Dare? (Feb. 25th)

Recreating Mark’s Childhood (Jul. 2nd)

Professional Fire Cupping (Going Even Further Beyond) (Feb. 4th)

An Extremely Sour, Not-at-All Sour Meal (Feb. 5th)

Purging Our Sins with a Neti Pot (Nov. 16th)

Attempting to Build IKEA Furniture Without Instructions (Jun 9th)

The Annual Unus Annus Dunk Contest (Jul. 27th)

Our Fans Try to Scare Us With Their Homemade Creepypasta (Jun 12th)

There’s Something Horribly Wrong With This Picture… (June 8th)

Too Many Pickles (Aug. 21st)

5 Products to Grow Your Patchy Beard (Jul. 31st)

What is the Least Viewed Video on YouTube? (Apr. 10th)

Baby Hands Operation (Nov. 24th)

Mark Builds a Pillow Fort for the Very First Time (Apr. 2nd)

Are Reptilian Humanoids Living Among Us? (May 6th)

Mark and Ethan Bet Everything on a Wikipedia Race (Apr. 15th)

We Will Churn Thy Butter (Sep. 25th)

We Take a Lie Detector Test to Uncover Our Darkest Sins (Jan. 12th)

Drawing on Each Other’s Backs in Total Darkness (Oct. 9th)

Drawing Memes from Memory (Nov. 30th)

We Made Every YouTuber Battle in the Hunger Games (Apr. 5th)

Ultimate YouTuber Boxing Showdown (Mar. 30th)

Tasting Weird Food Combos: Pickles and Chocolate? Ice Cream and Soy Sauce? (Jul 10th)

How to NOT be the Perfect Boyfriend (Apr. 13th)

Help Us Break a YouTube World Record (Apr. 17th)

Momiplier Tells Us True Scary Stories from Korea (Oct. 18th)

DO NOT TRY THIS UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES (Aug. 9th)

The Most Dangerous Shave (Jun 23rd)

We Took the Polar Plunge (Jan. 1st)

2 Complete Amateurs Enter a Body Building Competition (Jun 1st)

Does This Magnetic Skincare Routine Really Work? (Jul. 19th)

Mark and Ethan Milk a Goat (Oct. 5th)

Pumpkin Spice “Challenge” (Oct. 19th)

Doing Each Other’s Makeup in the Dark (Nov. 23rd)

We’re Better Than Dogs (Aug. 18th)

We Have the Best Bellies on YouTube (May 25th)

The Good Kind of Cupping (Nov. 19th)

Hacking the Very Fabric of the Universe (Jan. 30th)

Where in the World is Unus Annus? (Apr. 1st)

Mark and Ethan Become United States Citizens (Jun 10th)

Mark and Ethan Desperately Attempt to Feel Something (May 4th)

We Took an IQ Test (Jan. 9th)

Mark Teaches Ethan Korean (May 13th)

Lost Omegle Video (Mar. 31st)

Finding the Most Cursed Image on the Internet (Jun 15th)

Amazon Shopping for the Apocalypse (Mar. 28th)

Desperately Trying Not to Touch Our Faces (Mar. 24th)

Going on an Internet Scavenger Hunt (Mar. 26th)

Reading YOUR Scariest True Stories (Apr. 21st)

The Scariest True Stories on the Internet (Apr. 12th)

REAL Ghost Hunting At An Abandoned Zoo (March 2nd)

Bleachus Annus (Jul. 14th)

Pumpkin Taste Tier List (Oct. 14th)

Floating in a Real Sensory Deprivation Tank (Dec. 12th)

Was 2020 a Bad Year for Unus Annus? (Aug. 30th)

Speed Reading 1000+ WPM to Gain a Complete Understanding of All Human Knowledge (Apr. 9th)

We Give Each Other Tattoos Blindfolded (Mar. 11th)

Mark’s 1 Weird Talent Leaves Ethan Absolutely Speechless (Apr. 3rd)

Learning to Jump Higher in 16 Minutes and 16 Seconds (Oct. 15th)

You Breathe You Die (Jan.16th)

Breaking Glasses With Our Screams (Aug. 4th)

The 1000 High-Five Challenge (Oct. 2nd)

Becoming the World’s Greatest DJs (Mar. 4th)

Grip Strength Test: Loser Becomes the Winner’s Butler for a Day (Aug. 14th)

Forcibly Turning Mark into Santa Claus Against His Will (Dec. 25th)

We Smell Every Smell (Sep. 1st)

We Wrote a Hit Pop Song in 30 Minutes (Feb. 26th)

Unus Annus Carves the Roast Beast (Mar. 18th)

The Painful World of Aerial Skills (Oct. 12th)

The Koala Challenge: TikTok’s Intimate Couples Trend (Aug. 19th)

Ethan Traps Mark’s Soul in the Palm of His Hand (Jun 24th)

Will We Break the Boards...Or Will They Break Us? (Jun 14th)

DIY Chiropractor (Mar. 7th)

Mark Gives Ethan a HOT (stone) Massage (Aug. 31st)

We Bought a Camera That Can Look Inside Us (Mar. 3rd)

Can Plants Feel Pain? (Sep. 9th)

This is Hiding on Your Body RIGHT NOW. (Jul 9th)

Strange (and legal) Things You Can Do With Your Body After Death (Jan. 28th)

Like It Or Not...This is What The New Human Looks Like (May 7th)

Looking at Long Lost Memes (Jan. 31st)

We Played Mad Libs and Ran It Through Google Translate (Apr. 7th)

Running Internet Drama Through Google Translate (Apr. 24th)

Mark and Ethan Desperately Try to Name a Single State in the USA (Apr. 8th)

Professional Fetish Scientists Rank the Best/Worst Fetishes of 2020 (May 3rd)

Reddit 50/50: Two Player Edition (Mar. 25th)

Mark and Ethan Find the Lost City of El Dorado (Apr. 14th)

Using Google Maps to Find the Lost City of Atlantis (Apr. 20th)

We Hired a Real Hypnotherapist to Analyze Our Darkest Dreams (Jan. 24th)

2 Boys 2 Poops (Sep. 3rd)

This is How We’ll Die... (Jan. 19th)

Nutball Extreme: Taser Edition (Mar. 1st)

You Made Beautiful Music for The Barrel...But Only One Could Win (Dec. 15th)

Can Sound Therapy Heal All Wounds? (Jul. 22nd)

Middle School Science Experiment Teaches Us About Life and Death (Mar. 6th)

Reverse Engineering a Kite to Steal the Idea of Electricity from Benjamin Franklin (Jul 5th)

Ethan’s Relaxing and Totally Normal Nail Salon (Dec. 19th)

Mark and Ethan Take a Personality Test (Apr. 22nd)

An AI Generates Our Worst Nightmare (May 5th)

Learning to Cry on Command to Increase Our YouTube Views (Jun 16th)

How Big Can a Nuke Get? (May 17th)

Granting Access Into Heaven’s Sweet Gates (Feb. 24th)

We Put an Apple Watch in a Rock Tumbler (Jul. 3rd)

Whom Would Eat Whomst First in a Zombie Apocalypse? (Mar. 29th)

Bigfoot is Real and It Ate My Friend (May 14th)

What is the Most Painful Thing We’ve Ever Endured? (Dec. 21st)

Don’t Go In The Ocean....Ever. (Apr. 28th)

An AI Predicts How We’re Going to Die (Dec. 2nd)

Harnessing Our Yodeling Power to End The World As We Know It (May 21st)

The Creepiest Videos on YouTube (Apr. 16th)

What Does Astrology Say About Our Friendship? (Mar. 12th)

Discovering the Secret to Eternal Life (Feb. 1st)

What Happens When a YouTube Channel Dies? (Jan. 22nd)

5 Weird Apps That Predicted Our Death (Mar. 19th)

Emotional Pain vs. Physical Pain...Which is Worse? (Dec. 28th)

How Tall Can a Human Get?: An Impartial Review By 2 Average Height Men (May 12th)

Will AI Soon Take Over Humanity As We Know It? (Apr. 23rd)

Mark and Ethan Hunt the World’s Most Wanted Criminals (Mar. 17th)

The Illuminati...Do They Really Exist? (Apr. 19th)

We Explore the Most MYSTERIOUS Mysteries of Our Wildly Mysterious Mystery Moon of Mystery (Apr. 29th)

Two Male Men Judge Female Women On Their Beauty (Apr. 26th)

We Have the BEST Thumbnails on YouTube and No One Can Tell Us Otherwise (Jan. 5th)

How Much Caffeine Does It Take to Kill a Man? (May 18th)

There’s Still Hope… (Dec. 8th)

Unus Annus ASMR (May 9th)

The Worst Kind of Cupping (Nov. 21st)

#unus annus #unus annus ranked #the og list took me three days to compile please appreciate this #markiplier #crankgameplays #unus #annus

32 notes · View notes

chimaerakitten · 3 years

Audio

(via https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2eF2BW8QhNO2UesloUNkuk?si=SfOWQO6CTQy28MPE0ndjMA)

so, now that I am officially free of both finals and my work on the TQT title sequence animation, I thought it would be a good time to turn to my other bit project for this fandom, Chi’s crazy-long chronological playlist. I started this. One week after ROTT came out. ONE WEEK. I thought I’d get it done and written up in two or three days. It is now. December the 15th. Two months. TWO MONTHS, THIS HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY DRAFTS

Bellow the cut: A writeup explaining the position of each song + a little bit more commentary on it from me (spoilers. everything is spoilers all the way through ROTT below the cut):

This is a mix of some pretty typical fanplaylist fare (there is. A lot of Bastille on here) some Queen’s Thief must-haves (can you really have a Queen of Attolia playlist without Achilles Come Down?) and my own really weird music taste (Filk like Tin Soldier and Courage Knows No Bounds)

Some of the ones I’m most proud of are Monster by Starset for the Mede camp scenes in ROTT (I mean, it starts with “Under the knife I surrendered” It’s kinda perfect) Laughter Lines for Relius and Teleus (I have it on good authority that that caused a lot of heart pain for other fans) and Soft to be Strong for Irene and Relius.

without further ado, the song list:

“Eddis”—Warriors

“Thief!”—Second Child, Restless Child

The Thief

Whatever it takes—“I can steal anything”

Tin Soldier—“Nobody would mistake you for anything but a tool, Gen.”

Centuries—“His name would be carved in stone on a stele outside the basilica, and mine would be written in the dust.”

Everybody Wants To Rule the World—“He doesn’t want the queen…He just wants the pass through the mountains so that he can invade Attolia.”

Patron Saint o’ Thieves—Eugenides and the Sky God’s Thunderbolts (I will be honest. This one was chosen based on title and Vibes, tm, not lyrics)

The Only Exception—“But if there hadn’t been one that I loved, I wouldn’t have landed myself in the king’s prison.”

Thief—Before braving the temple of the Aracthus.

Come Wayward Souls—Inside the temple.

History Has Its Eyes On You—The answered prayer for silence.

The Queen and the Soldier—“You are more beautiful, Your majesty... But she is more kind.”

I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)—Walking to Eddis.

Stand By Me—“Oh, It’s you, Eugenides.”

Family—Helen, Eugenides, and the Minister of War.

“Destruction”—Dread Sovereign

The Queen of Attolia

Run Boy Run—The chase through the palace.

Icarus—Eugenides, caught.

When the Chips are Down—“I still think tradition might hold the best solution to my problems with you.”

Achilles Come Down—Eugenides, after returning to Eddis.

Heroes—The Secret War and the expectation that Eugenides will die soon.

Burn It Down—Burning Sounis’s navy.

Sit Still Look Pretty—“It was her fiancé who gave her the name shadow princess.”

Heroes and Thieves— “She pulled the bedclothes up as far as they would go and suppressed a perverse wish to have her old nurse come to chase away the darkness, perverse because she didn’t know if she wanted the shadows to be empty or not.”

Thousand Eyes—The plan to take Ephrata.

We Remain—“There’s an easier way for a man to become king,”

Black Water—“She reached up to push the wet hair out of her face, wondering when she had sunk so low that she had begun torturing boys.”

Simple Song—"I watched you walking between the rows of cabbages and then dancing under the orange trees. I was above you, in one of the trees.”

She’s Always a Woman—"Eugenides had accepted gladly and read carefully, trying to see whether Attolia could be the monster in human guise she was accused of being, or only a woman who ruled without the support of her barons.”

Queen of Peace—“Just asleep,” Eddis reassured her.”

I’m Not Calling You A Liar—“I sometimes believe his lies are the truth, but I have never mistaken his truth for a lie.”

Losing My Religion—“You made a mistake,” Attolia agreed. “You trusted your gods. That was your mistake.”

Pompeii—The vision of the volcano.

All I’ve Ever Known—“Love I am not familiar with.”

Love Love Love—"Who am I, that you should love me?

A Healing In This Night—“And she believed him.”

The King of Attolia

Bow to the Crown— “He dropped to his knees before his queen and lowered his head almost to the floor.”

Shut up and Dance—"Her queen danced like a flame in the wind”

Carry Your Throne— It was not a kiss between strangers, not even a kiss between a bride and a groom. It was a kiss between a man and his wife.”

It’s Alright—"If it was embarrassing to wake like a child screaming from a nightmare, how much more embarrassing to be the reason your husband woke screaming.”

Believer—“like a god revealed” and the fall of the house of Erondites.

I CHOOSE YOU— “He was very likable—Eddis would have married him.”

Hunger— “I did not say that I am afraid. He is, though, I think. Afraid of his own desire for power.”

Soft to Be Strong—"I have learned that there is a flaw in your philosophy. If we truly trust no one, we cannot survive.”

Gold—Eugenides on the crenellations.

True & Destined Prince—“He is an Annux, a king of kings.”

“Knife Dance”—Human

A Conspiracy of Kings

Things We Lost In The Fire—The raid on the villa.

Constellations—Sophos and Moira in the dream library.

Welcome Home, Son—“I didn’t want a choice; I wanted to stay right where I was and build walls and share poetry with an avid audience and enjoy a swim with friends, but I didn’t want it to be my choice.”

Words as Weapons— “Eugenides looked me in the eye as if I were a complete stranger and said, “The simplest way to end a war is to admit you have lost it.”

Share Your Address— “You made a proposal in your previous letter. Perhaps it was only hypothetical?” “It was not.”

I Love You—“When I was working in the fields, I knew how unfounded my hopes were,” he said. “I was a poor excuse for an heir of Sounis when I made the proposal and then became even less than that.”

Iron—“I will go to Melenze. And hope to delay the Medes long enough to find some other solution to their imperial expansion. Of course, that assumes the king and queen of Attolia intend to honor the laws of hospitality and allow me to travel safely to the border.”

Young Volcanoes—“Just what makes you think you can get away with that?” he asked the young man standing over him with a butter-won’t-melt-in-my-mouth expression incongruous on his scarred face.”

The Fates—Sophos’s naïve speech before the first vote.

Handmade Heaven—Shooting Hanaktos and Akretenesh, lifting a hand to the sky for a lightning bolt that will not come.

I Bet My Life—"There is no reason I can see that I would not be honored to join Eddis to you.”

Flaws—“Eddis stared at him for a long time, knowing that forgiving someone because you have to is not forgiving him at all.”

For The Dancing And The Dreaming—“Are you certain that you want to be my wife?” “Absolutely,” said Eddis, quietly. “Eternally certain.”

Blood Brothers—"He had been saved by the men Eugenides sent, though he did not yet know the ferocity with which the king of Attolia had stripped those men from other posts, the capital he had expended, the secrets that had been revealed in order to send help to Sounis.”

Thick as Thieves

I’ll Believe In Anything—"If there had been any alternative, I would have taken it, but I could see none, and there was no time for hesitation.”

You’ve Got A Friend In Me—“Head wounds bleed, but we can stitch it up, I’ve done it before, don’t be afraid. Kamet, I wouldn’t tell you this if it weren’t true. I swear to you, I am not going to leave your dead body beside the road to Perf. I didn’t come all the way to this godsforsaken cesspit so that I could go home and tell my king I failed him.”

Desert Song—Costis and Kamet crossing the empire, eating caggi.

Empire—"It would be possible, I supposed, for an outsider to see disruption and think the empire might collapse, but it was too all encompassing, too well sewn together to come apart. As each smaller nation was absorbed, it was integrated into the whole, enjoying all the benefits of being in the empire.”

Fell In Love With A Girl—Kamet’s story of Marin the dancing girl.

Foreigner’s God—Kamet’s encounter with Ennikar while Costis is in the well.

The Hell If I Go Home—Kamet trying to leave in Sukir.

Stray Italian Greyhound—“If you had told me in Sukir, I would have let you go.” / “Costis,” I said, using his name for the first time since he had told it to me, on board the riverboat at the start of our journey. “Costis, I’m sorry.”

Poet—"I began this narrative in the palace of Attolia but have only recently neared its completion. I will eventually send it to Relius, when I am sure it can be delivered without interception, and I hope he will be satisfied with my account, as I would be honored to have it added to his library.”

All This And Heaven Too—“Immakuk and Ennikar,” he said. “Where?” I snapped my head around to scan the dock, and he nudged me with his elbow. “Idiot. Us,” he said.”

Return of the Thief

How Far We’ve Come—Exordium.

The Great Escape—Pheris finding a place for himself.

The Heart Is a Muscle—“Someone loves me very much, even with all my faults”

I Will Wait—“His heart is unlikely to be in his work.”

Laughter Lines—Relius and Teleus saying goodbye.

Stole You Away—“Attolia says she leaves with you”

Poison & Wine—“I think they have to show their worst selves sometimes”

United at War—“Sounis will not run…nor Eddis.”

This is War—Arrival at Leonyla.

No Light, No Light—“All wars make men monsters, all wars and all men.”

Survivor’s Song—The Etisian winds came early.

Daniel in the Den—The ambush and the Mede Camp.

Monster—“Nahuseresh tells me I am not king. We’ll see if he really prefers the Thief.”

Natural—“Once, when I said he had saved me, you said I had saved him. From what?”

Tomorrow I Leave For Battle—Before the Naupent.

March of Cambreadth—The Naupent.

Courage Knows No Bounds—A pyre that burned for three days.

Bad Blood—The pardon of Sejanus.

Call the Names—The naming of Hector and Eugenia.

Here’s To Us—Dancing on the Roof.

I lived—Pheris, and the gods were pleased.

“Alyta’s Missing Earring”—Falling and Empire

final note: I did my best to have songs have at least one meaning in the pace they were put, plus more meaning when considering the series as a whole—for example, “Tin Soldier” appears early on in the context of the king of Sounis and the Magus using Gen as a tool, but if you loop back around to it after Return of the Thief, Gen being “weapon more than child” gains a whole new meaning. "She’s always a woman” is an Irene song in the context of QOA, but the more we learn about Helen, the more it applies to her, etc. etc. Not every song is like that, but I wanted to give the playlist at least a bit of re-listen value, in the spirit of the books’ reread value.

#TQT #QT #ROTT #return of the thief #the queen's thief #the thief #the queen of attolia #the king of attolia #a conspiracy of kings #thick as thieves #Spotify playlist

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drivingsideways · 4 years

Text

Based on this excellent post and tags by @frankdelfino, and thanks to @rain-hat yelling in the chat window for twenty minutes, here’s a not-fic outline in the universe where Jo Yeong and Jo Eun-seop are actually brothers.

So here's how this goes. This is RoK verse, monarchies are passé, thank you for coming to my TEDtalk.

- Jo Yeong and Eun-seop grow up middle class, and look like peas in a pod, have completely opposing personalities and can generally be trusted to get up to the WORST POSSIBLE SHENANIGANS ever known to a pair of long-suffering parents who've had the temerity to have not one, but two sets of twins. Anyways, Eun-seop is absolutely the one GETTING them into the shenanigans, and Yeong is the one getting them OUT of it, despite the fact that Eun-seop is older by 4 minutes

-Eun-seop loses a year at school when he gets into an accident at 14; a drunk driver, a bicycle, and Yeong just a little too far away to do anything but call the ambulance and hold his brother's hand right until they force him to let go as they rush Eun-seop into surgery. He holds it again, once he's wheeled out, and right upto when he wakes up so he doesn't wake up alone (he hasn't gone home in 48hrs, I'm fine, thanks eomma, you should go home to the babies, they'll be scared without you.). Anyways, Eun-seop wakes up, demands to know whether he'll have a cool scar from the surgery (before he demands to know whether he will be able to walk again) and Yeong's like you're never going to be as cool as me, now shut up and sip this water slowly. Eun-seop recovers, and Yeong's there through every single physio session and taking extra notes in class, and recording videos surreptitiously, so Eun-seop can see how all their classmates are faring and also failing at everything, now that they're in first year of high school. (Yeong would have stayed back a year at school, but Eun-seop forbids it, and uses his Oppa-pass, which he only uses when he's really serious about something, so Yeong has to listen)

- Eun-seop notices that some of his videos begin to feature a rather weird looking dude, who can be seen hanging out with this one girl. Eun-seop knows Tae-eul noona, her dad runs that taekwondo academy two blocks away, right? And there was that one time when Eun-seop was being bullied and Yeong wasn't there that day, and noona had stepped in and scared those assholes away. Anyways, so yeah, he also remembers that there was this other guy with her, who'd also clearly been ready to throw down, if those goobers had put up a fight, but later, he just grabbed noona's hands, checked for injuries, and given Eun-seop some candy that he got out from his bag.

Anyways, so Eun-seop is like why do you have pictures of Tae-eul noona and her weird boyfriend, and Yeong snatches the phone away and mutters, THEY'RE JUST GOOD FRIENDS, in all caps as though he knows anything about life or girls.

Oh my god, Yeongie, he says, you know she's way out of your league right? She's a senior? And like would absolutely beat you to shit, wouldn't need her weirdo bf to do it either-

HE'S NOT HER BOYFRIEND, Yeong says, loudly this time, as loud as the time when Eun-seop had replaced his hair cream with toothpaste and Eun-seop quickly recalibrates and gets it right this time, and he says, hushed, Yeongie, my Yeongie, did you manage to fall for the one dude who'd give you a run for your money in "the person most likely to end up a serial killer" stakes?

He starts cackling so hard that his ribs start to hurt, and then his back, and Yeong (who's run away – RUN AWAY) doesn't come back to help him up. It's alright, Eun-seop will live, and also, he's gonna help his Yeongie get his guy, even if Eun-seop cannot see the attraction, and he thinks this isn’t going to work for many reasons, only one of which is that CLEARLY this dude- Kang Sin Jae, he remembers now- is in love with Tae-eul noona, which, props, anyone might see she absolutely kicks ass.

But the point is, the Jos are fighters, and he's damned if he's going to let Yeong slink away from this one.

The next time he sees Yeongie- two hours later- they all have a bedtime in the Jo house, ok- he's like, fine, I'm sorry, and I KNOW YOU DON'T HAVE A SINGLE USEFUL THOUGHT IN YOUR HEAD, so I got this for you, ok? What do you know about him?

Turns out, Yeongie has a whole folder on him.

Eun-seop's proud of his little stalker baby brother.

Anyways, that's how Yeong learns enough about sound systems so he can turn up for the post when the school band that Kang Sin Jae plays bass guitar for advertises for a sound engineer.

He turns up for the "interview" in his neat trousers, and button-down shirt and Sin Jae says, uh, are you Jo Eun-seop's non-identical twin? Aren't you just a freshman, do you really- and Yeong says, quietly, confidently, I can solve that problem you're having when you play your arrangement of The Wizard and Sin Jae stares at him and mutters, but can you do anything about how only three people turn up to listen, and Yeong tilts his head, and says maybe? Also, Eun-seop and I are identical, just fyi.

Anyways, yeah he fixes the faulty wiring in the speakers at the auditorium, and also gets more than three people to turn up (so what if it's all a bunch of scared looking freshmen? They've all been paid more than enough to bang their heads in time to the music and cheer later.)

But he never does ask Sin Jae out, that entire year, even though these days, Sin Jae smiles when he sees him, and puts an arm around his shoulder sometimes, after a practice, what are you waiting for, Yeongie, did I raise you to be this much of a coward? Eun-seop wails, but Yeong is like, Sin-Jae-ssi would feel awkward at having to refuse me if I did, and he needs a sound engineer more than a boyfriend, and that's fine.

(He needs at least three shirts more, a hair-cut and perhaps better taste in music, Eun-seop thinks, but doesn't say, because he knows Yeongie's fragile like that. Yeongie can take anything anybody says about him, personally, and will brush it off or dole out appropriate punishment, but if someone comes after someone he loves, he'll break the knees of the person and leave them for dead in a ditch. And obviously, he can't do that with Eun-seop, so Eun-seop doesn't say anything, he's a good elder brother.)

- Sin-jae and Tae-eul noona graduate and both of them go off to KNPU, and Eun-seop says, listen, nobody does that if they're not dating, at least. IF NOT ACTUALLY ILLEGALLY MARRIED. Yeongie, please, for the love of god, find a boy who's available. See, here's a list.

But Yeong just shrugs, and says, let me see your homework (because Eun-seop's back in school now) and then proceeds to put red slashes through everything and says, "apply your brains Eun-seop, don't act dumb when you're not". THE AUDACITY.

Yeong never dates anyone through high school, Eun-seop dates a different person every month.

- So Eun-seop is never going to have to serve in active military duty, because of his accident, but Yeong will have to. He's fine with that, and he'd rather do it in these two years, just after school, because that way, it's only really one year when Eun-seop will be at college before him, and that's fair, it evens out Yeong's having to graduate from school first.

-So off he goes, and there he meets Lee Ji-hun, who's an ass, Eun-seop clocks that straight away, born into some goddamn chaeobol family, but for some reason drawn to actual military service, because he has a hero complex. The only good thing he has going for him, as far as Eun-seop can tell, his that he took one look at Yeongie and decided that he was the best boy in the whole universe, and that shows good taste, Eun-seop will be polite to him, fine.

- Of course, the other thing that happens in those two years is that Yeongie gets brainwashed into joining the Navy- it's not brainwashing, Yeong tries to tell him, I get to protect the people I love, the country I love. And of course, Lee Ji-hun, fucking asshole, is just sitting there, nodding along as though any of this was fucking REASONABLE. You could DIE, Eun-seop yells, DO YOU REALIZE THAT. WE'RE STILL AT FUCKING WAR.

Yes, says his stepford-wife brother, womb-sharer, soulmate, exactly.

- Anyways, off Yeong and Jihun go to join not just the Navy, which would be bad enough, but the ROKSWF, that's insane, they're going to die, and what can Eun-seop do then but go join the NIS and immediately get picked for North Korean Affairs by an astute senior officer who listens to Eun-seop goofing around in the canteen on the orientation day and still get everyone to give him their portion of the only decent thing on the menu- the crème brulee- and says, I'm taking that one.

- It's a lot of paperwork and dull as ditches monitoring work at the start, and that's ok, Eun-seop can live with that, it means he gets time with the other twins, who are at a fun age. And that's how Tae-eul noona and Kang Sin Jae re-enter their lives because Eun-bi and Kka-bi are learning taekwondo from Tae-eul's dad. This is also how Eun-seop meets the love of his life and future wife Myeong Na-Ri, and it's ok if she doesn't know it yet, at least Yeongie is not here to see him turn into a complete doofus everytime Na-Ri so much as breathes in his direction.

- Yeongie and Jihun come back on shore leave (AFTER TWO GODDAMN YEARS) and that's when Ji-hun meets Tae-eul and falls like a ton of bricks for her; she manages to keep her sense of balance and also life in order, thanks, she's not going to fall for some floppy haired dude (his hair grows really fast out of its crew cut) who thinks that parallel universes are a thing, even if he has extremely long legs.

Meanwhile Kang Sin Jae has also cleaned up nice, Eun-seop will admit, and he's-he's a genuinely nice dude, ok, even if a bit brusque, and when Eun-seop finds out about eomeonim's gambling problems and that whole story, he's willing to admit that he may have been a tad harsh on Kang Sin-Jae way back when.

Anyways, that's the past, right, Yeongie, I can't imagine what a bunch of men locked in a submarine can possibly do except have orgies, please tell me that's what you've been doing? Please?

"Shut up" hisses Yeong, and then practically jumps out of his chair when Tae-eul noona and Sin Jae come over to their table at Na-ri's coffee shop. Yeong's in his uniform- he was on his way back from some conference thing he'd had to go to despite his leave- so that was the saving grace, because Eun-seop sees the subtle double-take Kang Sin Jae does, because let's face it, his baby brother is the most beautiful, it's true, but then Yeongie is also red in the face and says "toffee" instead of "coffee" as in "Won't you get some toffee, Sin Jae-ssi?" and Sin Jae gives him a blank look while he decodes that, (gay panic, Eun-seop wants to tell him, my brother is a panicked gay, go easy on him), and finally says, uh, I don't think they have that flavor here?

- God, Eun-seop says later, I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU, BABY BROTHER. HAVE YOU BEEN IN LOVE WITH THE SAME BOY FROM HIGH SCHOOL? ARE YOU STILL A VIRGIN? (AFFIRMATIVE ON BOTH) and Eun-Seop has FAILED, FAILED, FAILED. Alright, he says, taking a deep breath, how long do you have?

Two weeks, says his stupid fucking brother, and so Eun-seop has to go into EMERGENCY-FUCKING-MODE because he may have to DIE getting it to happen, but his baby brother is GOING TO GET LAID, AND BY THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE, EVERYONE'S FIRST TIME NEEDS TO BE SPECIAL OK, Ji-hun? Ji-hun nods, very seriously, and proceeds to describe his extremely un-special first time, and Eun-seop is like, wow, you probably don't know this, because you've got that puppy face that make people not want to hurt you, but every single woman you've ever slept with has faked an orgasm with you. Well, that discussion gets pretty heated, of course, and also comes to an abrupt end when Tae-eul noona pops in- she's come by to ask if they all wanna hang out and watch a movie this weekend- and look, noona's GREAT, and obviously the first person he needs on his ally list as soon as he makes sure she's not really in love with Sin Jae, because that would be bad.

"Hyungnim?" she says, surprised, when he asks, because Eun-seop knows the best way to get noona to answer anything is to play no games, and she says, "No, why?" and then, suspiciously, "Did that rat Jihun put you up to this?" And he says, absent mindedly, no I was asking 'cause Yeong, and noona yelps, "Jo Yeong can't be in love with me, shit!" and Eun-seop says, what, why, and that's how he finds out that hey, Kang Sin Jae may also have been a little into his idiot brother from way back when. "He was too young" Tae-eul noon confides, "Sin Jae didn't feel right about it, especially when he was graduating that year" and honestly, THIS IS THE SADDEST STORY EUN-SEOP HAS EVER HEARD AND HE'S WATCHED TITANIC FORTY TIMES AND CRIED EACH TIME OK?

- RIGHT. So maybe Eun-Seop and Tae-eul manage to get their idiot friend and brother a little push in the right direction. Well, noona basically goes to Sin Jae and says, for fucks sake, ask the poor boy out, I heard he's still a virgin for you. And Sin Jae goes red in the face, and then green, because omg the PRESSURE, and then red again, and then ultimately does find Yeong one day at the coffee shop alone, as Eun-seop had assured him he would be - (Diligently reading some book? A recipe book? Italian recipes? Sin Jae may have mentioned one day that his favourite cuisine was Italian?)- and there's some part of him that melts, like the cheese on the cover of that recipe book, and he's like, uh, do you, maybe, and then rushed, I know this great Italian place, if you like, and yes, Jo Yeong would like very much.

- Jo Yeong returns to Jinhae Naval Command very much not a virgin, and Jihun returns still single, but undaunted by the task ahead of him; don't worry, Yeong-ah, he says, confidently, I'll wear her down, even if it takes me years, and Yeong knows Jihun, he knows how much of a barnacle he can be, and also it wouldn't be nice of him to shit on other people's happiness just when he's found his own, so he nods and says, yes, of course, and even listens to Jihun rhapsodize about Tae-eul noona's everything for about two hours straight. He texts Eun-seop at the half-way mark- kill me now, please-and Eun-seop is like, what's North Korea there for, then, I told you to dump his ass in the sea. But of course he won't, Jihun and he are ride or die, and it turns out dying is more likely in this case, because right about that time is when North Korea decides that it needs to remind the world that yes, they exist, and yes, the men that rule them are crazy fucks.

- What happens is this: Koo Seo-Ryeong is a brilliant pianist, who's one of the few DPRK citizens who's let out to see the world has disappeared with her mother and sister, while she was on tour in Australia. And look, she did it in Australia, it has nothing to do with RoK, except that Kim Jong-un has decided that it has, because her (estranged) father happened to be one of the top honchos in DPRK military brass, and this was all clearly a conspiracy hatched across the border to get at him and the military secrets he knows.

- Eun-seop is there when the news comes in that there's a Sang-o class submarine in the waters at Jeongdongjin, and he's also there when it turns out, that yes, hello, they were trying to get the Koo family out, and he's also the one that gets a single line text from an unknown number that's the code he made Yeongie swear on everything they held dear that he would send if he was going behind enemy lines. Shit. Shit.Shit.

- OK, I confess, I don't know how this next part goes, reader, because I am not John Le Carre or whoever, and this is still NOT-FIC, BUT SPY THINGS HAPPEN and at the end of the day, Eun-Seop has to choose between saving his brother and letting the Koo family back into the hellhole they'd just managed to extract themselves from, and listen, noona made him listen to Koo Seo-Ryeong's playing ok, and there's- even if she were a shitty musician, even if she were just some rat bastard politician or a fisherwoman- he knows he can't make a choice that is sending her back to her death, and the deaths of everyone she loves. And if he did, and if he did, just to save his womb-brother, his true love, his soulmate, his blood and bone and heart- why, he knows that Yeong would never forgive him, Oppa-pass or no. So he's gotta rescue Yeongie and save the Koo family AND STOP WORLD WAR THREE, good thing he's totally up to the task.

- MORE SPY THINGS HAPPEN AND HE SAVES THE DAY, OK.

- He does, and so this time he gets to be the rescuer, and honestly, this was a big one, and it totally evens out all the 15 million times in their entire lives that Yeong had rescued him, what does Yeongie think? Yeongie thinks he should shut up and let him sleep, and because he's a good oppa, the best oppa, Eun-seop curls around his baby brother in their too narrow bunk bed, just like they did when they were sixteen or ten or five or in the womb, and goes to sleep too.

#the king eternal monarch #blood brothers and soulmates ftw #jo yeong #jo eun-seop

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maria-scribbles · 4 years

Text

glitter + crimson (let’s start a riot)//part five

summary: in the aftermath of hurricane agatha, the pogues are thrown into a mess none of them are ready to deal with. things that don’t exactly top sailor’s ‘fun things to do this summer’ list: surfing in the middle of a hurricane, getting punched in the face by a stupid kook, and stumbling upon a mystery that turns her and her friends into the damn scooby gang. when she said she wanted an exciting summer, she should’ve been more specific. 🙃

word count: 8.1k+ (it just keeps getting longer and longer 😅)

ship: jj maybank x oc (sailor flynn)

warnings n stuff: mentions of abuse/neglect/gambling addiction, child abandonment, anxiety, self-worth issues, jj being both soft af and hot for his best friend, weed usage, underage drinking, unresolved sexual tension, sailor being thirsty, swearing, guns, fighting, blood, that one trope where two characters only call each other by their nicknames/last names until they don’t because of ~reasons~ that makes me lose my shit every time (like a lot of the obx fandom, i also headcanon that jj stands for jesse james), references to the three stooges (jj=moe, pope=larry, and john b=curly and that’s a fact lmao), to all the boys i've loved before, avengers infinity war, and david attenborough, and a line heavily inspired/influenced by taylor swift's "dress" (a song that happens to be on the playlist for this series)

a/n: we’re finally entering canon territory, y’all (with a few tweaks, of course!) but i’m determined not to make this a rehash/retelling word for word of the show ‘cause that’s just no fun, so expect smaller pieces (vignettes, i guess?) of storytelling as i expand on canon with sailor and the rest of the pogues. think of it like a mixtape of sorts, but with words instead of music if that makes sense lol. this part originally covered episodes one and two but i wrote so much that i had to split it, so we're just covering most of episode one for now (i still can't even believe how much shit actually goes down in the pilot lol). i was veryyyy excited to write the kegger at the boneyard 'cause some ~juicy~ stuff happens there lol. fun fact: the title of this part is a term used by surfers to refer to getting up at the ass crack of dawn to hit the waves. as always, this is unbetaed so any mistakes are mine. enjoy!

gif credit to @jj-maybnks

~Masterlist~

part five: dawn patrol

The next morning, Hurricane Agatha hits the island with all the force of a knockout punch; the sound of rain pounding against the roof echoes impossibly loud throughout the Chateau but Sailor’s bewildered shriek is even louder.

“You’re gonna what the what?!”

John B shrugs as the stunned redhead, lounging on the couch, looks away from watching the storm and fixes him with a wide-eyed stare.

“I’m gonna surf the surge.”

“Hell yeah, bro!” JJ yells from his spot as her footrest, punching his fist in the air and she sends him an exasperated look, both at his enthusiastic encouragement of John B’s downright moronic idea and the fact that she already misses the feeling of his thumb drawing circles on her bare ankle.

“Are you two insane?”

“Possibly.” John B states, grinning when JJ follows that up with, “Absolutely.” The blond boy pushes Sailor’s legs off his lap as he stands which earns him another displeased scowl from the redhead. “Come on, Sail. Live a little.”

“Oh, I’ll live alright, but you idiots won’t,” She takes his offered hand, letting him pull her to her feet and then down the hall after John B as she continues, “because this is the dumbest idea you’ve ever had.”

“See, this is why we keep you around,” He replies, laughing when she dodges his attempt to ruffle her hair and dashes forward to beat him to the spare room. “We do something stupid, you and Kie read us the riot act. It’s tradition.”

Sailor grabs her long-sleeved rash vest -if she’s going to sit on the beach to keep an eye on these fools in the middle of a damn hurricane, at least she’ll wear something that offers a little bit of warmth- and heads to the bathroom to change. “Yeah, and then I’m there to patch you up when you inevitably hurt yourselves.”

“Can’t help that you have that healing touch.” His cheeky response floats through the closed door and she catches herself smiling -wide and just a little bit sappy- in the mirror.

After a quick detour to pick up Pope, who’s already drenched from sneaking out his window, the pogues (sans Kiara who never answered John B’s text in the group chat and, knowing her parents, was probably on hurricane lockdown) head to the beach, where the rugged gray surf hammers against the shore with unrelenting brutality. Sailor trails behind the others as they grab their boards and make a break for the water, blatantly ignoring the barriers that read ‘beach closed’ in large, impossible to miss letters. A few hundred feet down the coast, she can barely make out The Sandbar all boarded up for the storm and she thinks of her mother, wondering if she's riding it out inside or at home; either way Carmen's all alone and Sailor's stomach twists with guilt, both for letting her phone battery die so she didn't have to answer her calls and for leaving in the first place, even though it was the right thing to do for her damn sanity.

“These signs are here for a reason, guys!” She calls over the howling wind, squinting through the rain at the rough waves with her hands tapping uneasily against her thighs. Watching John B run into the ocean with reckless abandon (Pope following with a little more caution, thankfully) immediately puts her anxiety on edge so she sits down heavily on the wet sand, wrapping her arms around the knees pulled to her chest and looks up at the blond boy who stayed behind. “Aren’t you gonna join the other stooges?”

JJ shrugs at her question, glancing out toward their friends before dropping his board to the ground and taking a seat behind the trembling girl, his chest to her back. “This one can’t just leave you hanging out here all alone, lookin’ all sad and shit. It’s kind of pathetic.”

“Wow, you really know how to make a girl feel special, J.” She smirks and scoots back in the sand, lips curling into a full-fledged smile when he lifts his arms to drape them over her shoulders. As he tucks her securely against his front, the warmth of his body helps ward off the biting chill of the rain, and so does the fact that he knows her so well, that he knows this is exactly what she needs to help calm the panicking butterflies in her stomach.

He leans close, lips brushing against the shell of her ear when he whispers his next words like a secret, low and just for her even when there’s no one around to hear them. “Trust me, Sail, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

She suddenly finds those butterflies in her stomach fluttering for a whole different reason.

The Chateau sits in complete darkness, the power having been knocked out since they returned from dropping Pope off at his house that afternoon. Sailor thinks it’s about ten at night as she lies on her back on the mattress of the sleeper sofa, listening to the wind rip through the trees outside with Binx curled up at her feet. The spare room was way too hot without a working fan, even after she braided her hair off to the side and changed into a crop top and shorts, so she and JJ had returned to the living room where it was cooler, if only by a little bit.

John B has already retreated to his room for the night; he’d been acting quieter than usual since their little adventure at the beach but between a lantern-lit dinner of semi-stale cereal and passing a joint around, she never got the chance to ask if he was okay before he made his escape. JJ lies beside her with his limbs all askew and from the slow rise and fall of his bare chest she’s 99% sure he’s out like a light until, out of the blue, he mutters into the stagnant air, “Can’t keep your eyes off me, huh?”

She blinks heavily -that weed must’ve hit her harder than she thought because she hadn’t even realized she’d been staring- when he lazily turns his head to stare back, a halcyon grin on his face and in the dark, his pupils are blown so wide she can barely see the blue of his irises. Her hand itches with a longing to sweep that one stubborn strand of hair away from his forehead but instead she blindly slides it to the left until she finds his and holds on tight; his fingers automatically lace with hers even as the space between his eyebrows furrows and the smile falls from his lips.

“Sail?”

“I don’t think my dad’s ever coming back.” The redhead’s mouth blurts before her brain can catch up, heavy words lingering like a storm cloud ready to downpour. The thought had been weighing on her heart for a while now, from when she’d first suspected it two months ago, and it feels bittersweet to finally admit it out loud, even when she hadn’t planned doing it.

Her bedmate is silent for a long time as he looks at her through the shadows and she focuses on the touch of his palm against hers instead of the awful mounting pressure behind her eyes -hadn’t she promised herself she was done crying over her dad?- until he asks quietly, “Why? I mean, good riddance 'cause he's kind of the worst, but why?"

“A feeling,” She murmurs around the sudden lump in her throat, biting the inside of her lip hard enough that she tastes the metallic tang of blood on her tongue. “He...he usually comes back after a month or two but this time it’s been almost five.” A bitter laugh escapes from her chest and she shakes her head. “I guess he finally decided he’s done dealing with my worthless ass.”

JJ’s eyes flash like lightning as he rolls over to face her, the hand not entwined with hers reaching up to cup her cheek. “Sail, shut up. Don’t you dare say that.”

“Why shouldn’t I? It’s true,” She says sharply, words acerbic and biting and full of a self-hatred that’s been poisoning her heart ever since she was old enough -eight and far, far too young- to discern the way her dad’s love for her was fickle at best, non-existent at worst. “I could’ve been a better daughter- a perfect daughter- and he might still be here and my mom wouldn't hate me. I should’ve tried harder-”

“Jesus Christ, Sailor!” He interrupts, calloused yet gentle thumb wiping away the tears she just now registers sliding down her cheeks and the shock of hearing her full name come from his mouth makes the rest of her vitriolic thoughts fly out the window. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”

The image of him blurs through the darkness in shades of black and she closes her eyes, jaw clenched in an attempt to quell the tremble of her lip as he goes on in his low, soft voice, “You should’ve tried harder to do what, huh? What could you have possibly done better?”

She’s quiet for a long time, so long that her tears run dry and all that remains is smeared salt on her skin because she doesn’t have an answer. What could she have done? That terrible thought in her mind rears it’s ugly head again, the one that tells her she’s not good enough, that everything’s her fault because she doesn’t do enough, but when she asks it what more she can do, there’s no reply. There never is.

“Hey, look at me.” She hears the rustling of sheets and feels his fingers slip from hers before they come to rest on her cheek, both hands now cradling her face; she opens her eyes to find him hovering over her and the sheer lack of distance between them makes her heart skip a beat. “You...”

“What about me?” Her voice cracks as she speaks and in a mirror of her from earlier, JJ shakes his head, causing that stubborn strand of hair to once again fall into his eyes.

“I wish you’d see yourself the way I do.”

Her breath catches in her throat. “And how do you see me?”

“Fucking amazing.” He says simply and in the dark, she can barely see the flush slowly starting to creep up his neck. “Smart, brave, and loyal as hell. A beautiful badass who doesn’t take shit from anybody. A girl who listens when someone needs to be heard.”

The redhead stares up at him with wide green eyes as he goes on and on, listing all these wonderful little things that her traitorous mind has a hard time processing, let alone believing; he really thinks about her like this? “You care so damn much,” “You’re kind but not afraid speak out,” “You’re the one I trust the most.”

Her hand slowly releases its tight grip on the sheets and slides up his bare arm, feeling the heat of his skin under her palm as she touches his face, not trusting herself to speak because she’s so afraid of saying something dumb or stupid and ruining everything ('like I always do,' her mind echoes).

“You’re my best friend, Sailor, and yeah, you’re not perfect. You drink and you smoke weed and you don’t get straight As in school but fuck, you’re real and so not worthless.” He says each word with such conviction that its impossible not to believe him, as much as her brain screams at her not to. “And I want you to know that what your parents think of you doesn't matter at all, got it?"

Without warning, she flings her arms around his neck and JJ loses his balance, falling onto her with a soft oof of surprise but Sailor doesn’t even feel the extra weight as she rests her face against his shoulder and finally finds her voice. “Thank you.”

He takes her with him when he rolls onto his side, arms wrapped tight around her waist and nose buried in her messy braid. “Just...trying to do the right thing, I guess. For once.”

She pulls back at his words, then leans forward and slowly presses her lips to his flushed cheek, just missing the corner of his mouth. She lets them linger for a beat longer than necessary before leaning back -not too far, just enough- and looking him in the eye. “Thank you, Jesse.”

He usually hates being called by his first name (she found that out pretty quickly into their friendship, “never call me Jesse” being one of the first things he ever said to her) but he just looks at her with a soft, endearing smile on his face as he leans back onto the bed, once again bringing her with him. “Promise me something, Sail?”

She glances up at him from his shoulder and meets his eyes. “Yeah?”

His fingers tuck an escaped red curl behind her ear. “Just...be you. Don’t worry about what anyone else thinks.”

She wishes it were that easy, that she could just step inside her mind and flip a switch and she could stop all those thoughts that’ve plagued her for years but it’s not. It’s gonna take time -time and a lot of patience and maybe even a miracle- but damn it, she’s gonna give it her all, not just for herself but for him and the rest of the pogues, too, the best friends she's ever had, so she nods and settles back down at his side. “I’ll try my best, J.”

“I know you will.”

"Sail, you're the best swimmer out of all of us. Think you can dive down there and check it out?"

The redhead peers over the edge of the HMS Pogue and into the water, where the murky shape of the sunken Grady-White sits thirty feet down on the bottom of the marsh, then nods at the rest of the pogues, an excited grin on her face.

"No problem," She answers John B, hopping up onto the very tip of the boat's bow with practiced ease before diving headfirst into the water to JJ's yell of "diver down!" It's dirtier than usual because of the hurricane but she doesn't let that stop her as she swims down and down until she reaches the top of the boat and pulls herself the rest of the way onto the deck, carefully scanning the area for...fuck. Honestly, she's got absolutely no clue what she's looking for but she assumes she'll know when she sees it.

'It' turns out to be a motel key, resting all alone on the floor by the steering wheel and she quickly reaches out to snatch it, sliding the silver key ring around her finger securely. When she pushes off toward the surface, she leaves the ghostly Grady-White behind with more questions than answers.

The rest of her friends are lined up in a row along the boat's railing, all staring at her with near identical expressions of anticipation as she breaks through the water and holds the key aloft with a triumphant smile.

"The Summer Winds Motel called, they want their key back!"

A little later that evening, Sailor would really regret finding that damn key but right now, she's having a great time dancing at the Boneyard with Kiara at the traditional post-hurricane kegger, second refill of beer in hand, spiked with Fireball from the flask tucked in her back pocket. To her, dancing's a lot like surfing -steady feet, swiveling hips, snapping shoulders- and she thinks that might be the reason she's so bad at it, anticipating the fluidity of water instead of the solidness of dry land. Or it could be that she just doesn't have rhythm when she's a little buzzed. That works, too.

"Ow, Sail!" Kiara winces as the redhead steps on her foot again, rolling her eyes fondly when she throws her head back with a loud, tipsy giggle.

"My bad, Kie!" She twirls in the sand, hair dancing around her shoulders like fire, and finds herself spinning right into a herd of dancing tourons, all too drunk to care that she's spilling her beer all over their feet. Large, olive-skinned hands grab her waist to spin her again and she laughs, smiling over her shoulder at a cute dark-haired touron as he slides one palm over to settle against the bare skin of her lower back. She pushes one hand on his shoulder with just enough resistance that he doesn't get too close into her personal space as he leans in to speak in a low Southern drawl, brown eyes turned a pretty bronze in the glow of the nearby bonfire.

"This probably isn't the best thing to say to a beautiful girl but you kind of dance like a giraffe."

Sailor bursts out laughing at that. "Hey, I think giraffes are very elegant creatures so I'll take that as a compliment!"

The boy grins and she smiles, too, letting him take her free hand and pull her into the throng of dancing bodies. He's almost as bad a dancer as she is but he's fun to talk to and together they gleefully show off their worst moves until their feet hurt -she's lost count of how many times she stepped on his toes- and her solo cup is empty. "Come on," She says and this time, she's the one to grab his hand and lead him over to the closest keg, where John B's dishing out beer with an expert flourish.

"'Sup, Sail," He lifts his chin in greeting as he fills her cup, smirking when she immediately pulls out her flask and adds a long pour of Fireball on top. "Who's your friend?"

"JB, this is Adam, he's visiting from Tennessee. Adam, meet John B, one of my best friends and a total moron," She makes quick introductions, smiling into her drink as he scowls and playfully sprays some beer at her feet before filling another cup and holding it out to the other boy with a jab at her expense.

"Be careful around her, man. She's a handful."

The touron accepts the drink with a shrug and a quick wink in her direction. "Good thing I happen to like 'em a little crazy."

Ugh. More than a little miffed at that, she rolls her eyes and takes a long sip of beer to hide her annoyance when Adam laughs and slings his arm around her shoulders. Calling her a giraffe was actually kind of cute in a very weird, endearing way but he instantly lost whatever points he had with her the second that 'c' word came out of his pretty mouth. She glances around the Boneyard while the boys start talking about surfing (she scoffs to herself, what does a farm kid from Tennessee know about that?), scanning the crowd for the rest of her friends and a chance to ditch him. Kiara's sitting on a big piece of driftwood, chatting up a stunning, deeply tan girl with glossy black hair -she waves when their eyes meet and shoots Sailor a cheeky grin before returning to her conversation- while the ever awkward Pope seems to be stuck in the middle of one of his rambles about autopsies as he stands around the fire, the willowy blonde beside him looking more and more uncomfortable by the second. She'd deliberately lost track of JJ a while ago, after she watched him getting a little too close to a tiny brunette, his hand low on her back as she passed him a drink and ran her fingers up his bare arm, coaxing that killer smile of his onto his face (that girl may have gotten his smile but Sailor got his eyes and they watched her until she pointedly turned away).

Honestly, she's a bit -okay, a lot- peeved. Here she is, thinking that they're the closest they've ever been before (they've always been close, ever since that day in sixth grade, but this is a whole different kind of close), and just when she feels like she may finally be ready to admit some things, some feelings, he's off doing who knows what with another girl; to be fair, she's off with another guy that she'd, until a minute ago, fully planned on kissing, but that's only because of him! Him and some weird need she has to keep him looking at her, to make him jealous -she shakes her head and takes another swig of her whiskey-spiked beer. Nope, nope, not gonna think about that.

Poor Pope looks like he's really struggling so Sailor pushes all thoughts of her blond best friend from her mind and goes to rescue him, ducking out from under Adam's sweaty arm and walking away without a backwards glance, ignoring the confusion in his voice as he calls her name. She pushes through the crowd to her friend and steps right in front of the girl he's trying to talk to, grabbing his hand with her free one.

"Come dance with me?"

The smile of pure relief that breaks out over his face makes her own widen as he lets her pull him back through the mass of bodies to a less-crowded part of the make-shift dance floor, the tension bleeding out of his hunched shoulders with every step.

"You're an angel, Sailor."

She laughs and wraps her arm around his shoulders, leading him in a carefree twirl across the cool sand. "Tell me something I don't know."

Like a leaf caught up in a whirlwind, he's helpless to resist her infectious joy as they dance, grinning like fools and poking fun at each other; for a while, the redhead tries to forget about stupid, clueless boys and focuses on Pope who, while still a clueless boy, doesn't expect anything from her but pure, unconditional friendship that she's all too willing to give (although she did have a teensy little crush on him when they first became friends, she got over it pretty fast the second he started talking about the bodily functions of dead bodies in explicit detail). She shares her drink with him, giggling at the way his face morphs from curiosity to disgust to delight at the taste of her cinnamon beer concoction and lets him down the rest while she drinks straight from the flask that she pulls from her back pocket.

"You've got a shadow." Pope says, slightly nodding his chin over her shoulder and she takes his hand again, slowly spinning herself under his arm to take a quick glance, rolling her eyes when she spots Adam staring at her from the edge of the crowd. "You know him?"

"Unfortunately. Thought he was cute, then he called me crazy." She tucks the whiskey away with a shrug at her friend's sympathetic wince, then steps closer to him and raises a conspiratorial eyebrow. "Wanna help me tell him to take a long walk off a short cliff?"

"Uh-"

"I think I can help with that," A familiar voice cuts off Pope's reply as JJ suddenly appears at her side, slipping his hand into her back pocket to spin her right into the circle of his arms before he plucks the flask from the other and takes a big sip in one smooth kinda sexy move. "Straight Fireball? Damn, Sail."

The redhead carefully schools her features into a blank mask but her body has other ideas, one hand instantly settling on his chest like it's second nature and her face flushing from more than just the alcohol as she casually replies, "You know I like things a little spicy." Completely aware of the way he's watching her every move, she snatches the whiskey back and downs the little bit that's left, trying and failing to ignore the thrill that shoots through her at those bright blue eyes of his darkening when her tongue darts out to lick her lips. Pope rolls his eyes at them both before muttering a quick 'see ya' and hastily melting back into the crowd.

"So, who're we telling to fuck off?" His voice is just a little strained and she feels her cool facade start to crack as she scowls, subtly tilts her head toward where Adam's still staring at her with an expression that looks like he ate a sour lemon. JJ spins her around to take a very conspicuous peek and her mouth curls into a grin, mask breaking completely when he shoots the touron a glare that screams 'try me, I dare you'; the heat from his hand still in her pocket burns as he leans in until his forehead rests on hers. "Let's give him a show."

Sailor hums and pretends to mull it over even as she coyly snakes her arms around his neck and pulls him closer, the harder panes of his body sliding almost sinfully against her softer curves as they sway together, "I don't know, you looked pretty cozy with that other girl earlier..." Is it kind of petty to bring it up? Yes, yes it is, but she can't resist toying with him like he did to her, just as she can't help the breathless gasp that escapes her lips when his fingers press hard into the toned flesh of her ass through her shorts.

"Why, Flynn, are you jealous?"

"Please, I saw that glare you gave him. If anyone's jealous, it's you, Maybank." She fires back while carding both hands through his hair and the pure gratification she feels at his slight shiver is nothing short of euphoric. Out of the corner of her eye, she barely takes notice of the frown Adam sends their way before he turns and stalks off toward the other side of the beach; honestly, she's so caught up in JJ and everything about him -the slow swing of his hips, the hands burning hot against the strip of her back exposed by her crop top, the darkened look in those ocean eyes- that she'd completely forgotten about the touron she danced with earlier in an effort to forget the boy she's dancing with now. She should've known it wouldn't have worked: Sailor could never forget JJ, no matter how hard she tries. He's like a permanent mark on her, a tattoo inked in gold, a beautiful, wonderous scar that she never wants to fade away.

"Seems like we scared him off so I don't have to worry about that anymore." His flushed face is so close she can feel his breath on her lips as he speaks and her eyes quickly flick down to his mouth on their own accord.

"And what about me?" She asks, twirling her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, heart beating fast in anticipation as he smirks wickedly at the way her own face turns cherry red.

"Sail, babe, you don't have to worry about a damn thing."

All one of them has to do is tilt their head and everything will fall into place and she can once again know what it's like to kiss him-

"Let it go, Topper!" A sudden, annoyed shout breaks the two apart before they can close that final distance (Sailor's not sure who would've made the first move and she's both relieved and disappointed they won't get to find out), turning away from each other in tandem toward the gathering mass of bodies chanting 'fight, fight!' at the shoreline.

"JB, he's not worth it!" At the sound of Kiara's voice, they take off running across the sand and shove their way to the front of the crowd just in time to see Topper Thornton in all his frat boy glory get absolutely slammed with a hard punch to the jaw, courtesy of John B. The kook barely hits the ground before he's back on his feet and lunging forward to tackle him into the water, landing a hit of his own square in the eye.

"What the hell happened?" Sailor grabs Kiara's elbow and the dark haired girl looks at her with wide eyes as the boys continue to roll around, exchanging brutal blows while a stunned Pope watches from her other side.

"I don't even know, they just started wailing on each other!"

JJ stands silent to Sailor's right, jaw clenched and hands curled into fists as he stares at the brawl and she reaches over to wrap her fingers around his wrist, thumb calmly running circles on his skin.

"Top, seriously! Stop it!" Sarah Cameron stands in the sand just before the crashing waves, yelling furiously at her boyfriend and throwing her arms in the air when he ignores her. "What is wrong with you?"

The moment Topper lands three punches in a row on John B's battered face, Sailor decides she's seen enough. She rushes forward without thinking to grab the blond boy's arm, pulling as hard as she can in an attempt to get him off her friend and barely has time to register what's happening when the fist he was aiming at John B suddenly swings at her. It connects solidly with her left cheek and makes her stumble back, her hand flying to her throbbing face before she goes down hard onto her butt in the surf.

"What the fuck, Thornton?"

"Did you just punch a girl?"

"Ohhhh shit!"

A cacophony of voices yells from the shore as the kook boy stares down at her, momentarily stunned when he realizes who exactly he hit, and it gives John B an opening to wrestle him back into the water and land a solid punch right to his nose. Everything happens so fast after that that the redhead, still reeling in a wide-eyed daze, has a little trouble keeping up. First, Kiara and Pope splash through the waves to her side, kneeling down to help her to her feet with their arms around her waist. Second, Topper gains the upper hand and straight up tries to drown John B, holding his head under the water while Sarah screams at him to stop. And third, JJ -reckless, bold, protective JJ- pulls out that damn stolen gun, effectively bringing the whole mess to a grinding halt when he stalks forward and presses the barrel to the side of Topper's head.

"Your move, broski." He threatens and the beach is so quiet everyone can hear the click of the safety being switched off. The kook slowly raises his hands in the air and John B emerges from the water, stumbling forward onto his hands and knees with a horrible wet cough.

It's all too much for Sailor's poor tipsy self to take. The world spins beneath her feet as her head starts to pound and her shaking fingers fail to find purchase on Kiara's and Pope's shoulders.

"Guys, I don't feel so good," She manages to whisper and their looks of concern (the former) and panic (the latter) are the last thing she sees before her legs give out and everything goes black.

The first thing she registers is the pain that radiates from the left side of her face, her whole head throbbing with every beat of her heart and the sound of loud whispering right by her ear isn't helping at all.

"That's the best you can do, J? Seriously?"

"The power's out! I can't exactly pull ice out of my ass, Kie."

Something semi-cold gently rests against her cheek and she audibly sighs at the little bit of relief she feels, her hand sluggishly rising to hold it a little closer as she mumbles, "I wouldn't want your ass ice anyway." At least she tries to: her mouth feels like it's full of cotton and she's pretty sure the only thing that comes out is unintelligible gibberish.

Sailor opens her eyes and finds herself lying on her back on the sleeper sofa at the Chateau, a passed out John B to her right. Pope sits on the edge of the mattress by his side, holding a beer bottle to his friend's black eye and he sends her a relieved smile when he notices she's awake.

"There she is," JJ says from her other side and she turns to face him, not at all surprised to find him already looking at her, and the unabashed concern in his eyes sends a golden warmth through her whole body. Her fingers slip down the hand that's still holding the bottle to her cheek so she can run her thumb over the delicate bones in his wrist in a silent thank you.

A different, softer hand rests on her knee and she tears her gaze away from his face to smile at Kiara as she says, "Good to see you're okay, Sail."

The redhead sinks back into the pillow in embarrassment and covers her eyes with her free hand. God, she really passed out, didn't she? She passed out after taking one lousy punch to the face by a fucking kook, no less. How completely mortifying. She swallows thickly and sounds like a chain smoker when she says, "I'm so sorry, guys. I'm a total idiot."

The other three conscious pogues start protesting all at once -apparently there's many, many, different ways to say she's not an idiot- and the resulting volume of their combined voices is enough to make her headache even worse. She sits up and scoots back until she's propped against the couch and sets the now warm beer on the side table before massaging both of her temples.

"Will you please shut up, I can feel my brain beating in my skull."

For a second, there's wonderful, blissful silence and then:

"Holy shit, thank you," A groggy voice says to her right and she turns to watch a bleary-eyed John B claw his way back to consciousness. "You guys are fucking loud."

"He lives!" JJ shouts, ignoring the four glares sent his way and reaching over to clap his hand against the brunet boy's shoulder. "Welcome back, dude."

"Ugh," He suddenly rolls onto his stomach -Pope deftly catching the bottle when it nearly falls from the bed- and his muffled voice floats out from the pillow he shoves his head under like an ostrich in the sand. "Knock me back out."

"Aww, poor baby." Sailor gives his back a sympathetic pat and chuckles softly when he blindly feels around for her arm, pushing it away with another deep groan and a 'fuck off, Sail' that lacks any type of venom.

"Okay, now that you're both kind of conscious, let's agree that neither of you will ever fucking do that again. Got it?" Kiara addresses John B and Sailor as she stands from the bed and crosses her arms, fixing the latter with a piercing look that makes her feel like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar; she opens her mouth to defend herself but before she can say anything, Kiara turns her furious gaze to JJ and points an accusing finger at his face. "And you! What the hell were you thinking pulling that damn gun out, huh?"

"Jesus Christ, Kie!" He suddenly rockets to his feet and throws his hands in the air. "Sail got socked in the face and JB was getting fucking drowned, I wasn't really thinking much at all!”

The dark haired girl can't seemed to think of a response to that and looks away, staring at the floor with her jaw clenched as Pope, ever the mediator, rises to his feet, too, and rounds the bed to step between them placatingly.

"Let's just drop it for tonight, okay? They need to rest." He says, nodding toward the two still on the bed before wrapping his hand around Kiara's elbow and turning her toward the front door. She immediately pulls her arm from his grasp but still nods in agreement, the hard look in her eyes softening when she glances at her injured friends.

"Yeah, okay." She says and glances down at her watch, wincing when she catches sight of the time. "My parents'll kill me if I'm not home soon, anyway."

"Come on, I'll take you guys home." JJ says with a conciliatory look in her direction as Pope tosses him the Volkswagen's keys from his pocket and when she nods back, a small smile pulling at the corner of her mouth, Sailor knows that all is forgiven, at least for now.

"Are you sure you're good to drive?" She asks and immediately rolls her eyes at his sarcastic reply of "Yes, Mom," and the obnoxious wink he shoots her.

The trio leaves after a quick round of goodbyes and John B waits until he hears the sound of his van driving away before finally emerging from under the pillow and rolling onto his back.

"Sensing the immediate danger has passed, the ostrich cautiously pulls its head out from the sand..." She says in her best David Attenborough impression, laughing when he tosses the pillow at her head with an amused grin.

"Ha ha. I was trying to avoid getting a Kie lecture," He explains, running both hands down his face with a heavy sigh. "It feels like my head's gonna explode."

"You and me both, dude." She carefully probes at her swollen cheek and is more than a little surprised to feel the beginnings of a scab forming near her eye. She knew Topper landed a solid punch but she didn't realize how solid that hit was until now as she catches sight of the tiny bit of drying blood left behind on her fingertips.

"That looks like it hurts. You okay?" John B asks and she looks up from wiping her hand clean on her shorts, stiff from dried saltwater, with a wrinkle of her freckled nose.

"I'm alright. How about you? No offense but your eye looks like shit."

"I'll live." He answers with a shrug as he pulls himself upright on the mattress and leans his head against the back of the couch. "Thanks, by the way."

"For what?"

He sluggishly turns his head to look Sailor in the eye and shrugs again. "For trying to help me out. Sorry I got you punched."

She smirks and reaches over to give his hand a brief, friendly squeeze as she replies, "It's not your fault I got myself punched. I'm sorry your ass almost drowned."

He snorts at that and she's relieved to hear it, knowing that he can still joke around and he's not, like, completely traumatized or something. Poor guy's already got enough to deal with without adding a mental breakdown to the list. She swings her legs over the edge of the mattress and slowly stands before taking a tentative step forward; when her knees hold and she doesn't fall flat on her face, she makes her way to his side and holds both hands out to him with a small, lighthearted smile.

"Yeah, you're delirious. Near death experiences do that to you." She says, helping him to his feet and, after looping his arm over her shoulders and sliding hers around his waist, the two teenagers carefully shuffle down the hall in the dim light of the emergency lantern on the kitchen table to his room, where she unceremoniously dumps him onto his bed. "Sleep it off. And for the love of God, please change. You smell terrible."

She goes to leave as he laughs again, tugging his shirt off and tossing it into the growing pile of clothes near the closet before saying, "Hey, Sailor?"

The redhead pauses with one foot in the hall and leans against the doorframe. "Yeah?"

"You know you're a badass, right?"

She laughs and sends him a wink but her heart is oh so light as she turns and heads to the spare room, calling back over her shoulder, "Nice to see someone acknowledge it. Now go to bed!"

The sound of the Chateau's front door opening and closing startles Sailor awake and she blinks heavily, wondering when exactly she'd fallen asleep. Last thing she remembers she was staring out at the fireflies through the open window as she steadily ran her hand down the length of Binx's back and their ethereal glow, combined with the breeze dancing around her shoulders, must've pulled her right under. Down the hall, she hears a loud thump, followed by JJ cursing as he runs into something and she giggles to herself, rolling onto her side to face the hall. He appears in the darkened doorway a minute later, rubbing his knee with a scowl on his face and she laughs louder at his quiet, venomous hiss of "fuck that fucking chair."

"Rude. It's not the chair's fault you always run into it." She teases and he shoots her a flat, unamused look before turning to glance down the hall toward John B's room, his fingers holding tight to the door frame.

"He's okay, you know. Told him to get some sleep." His head swings to face her when she speaks with soft words and even in the dark, she can see the way his tense shoulders slowly relax and his hand loosens, falling back to his side as he nods, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

"And you?" He asks, his eyes never wavering from hers as he kicks his boots off and pulls his shirt over his head; the sight of his messy hair and the muscles in his arms make it a little hard for Sailor to breathe, the gentle wind she once thought of as cool now doing nothing to help calm her flushed skin when she scoots over in bed to give him room to lie down next to her. Binx looks as disgruntled as a cat can look as he loses his comfy spot and jumps down from the bed, only to immediately leap onto the windowsill and stretch out.

"What about me?"

JJ rolls over to face her, reaching one hand up to cup her injured face and runs his calloused thumb under the cut on her cheekbone. "Are you okay?"

Nodding, she shifts closer and lays her head on his outstretched arm, covering his hand with her own and effortlessly fitting her fingers into the spaces between his. "I'm fine. Even better, now."

He leans forward to rest his forehead against hers. "Good, 'cause I don't know what I'd do if you weren't."

When those pesky butterflies come raging back with a vengeance, she realizes she's fighting a battle she hopes to lose.

The sound of a conversation in the kitchen, low voices drifting through the closed door of the guest room wakes Sailor early the next morning. Sunlight filters in through the windows and she squeezes one eye shut against the painful brightness, the other still squished into JJ's shoulder. His arm is a welcome weight slung over her hip and his deep, even breaths are soft against her forehead as he sleeps on, dead to the voices down the hall. With the corner of her mouth turned up in a small smile, she smooths his fine blond hair away from his face and runs her fingers along his jawline before carefully sliding out from under his arm and quietly heading toward the kitchen.

Pulling her hair into a messy ponytail, she rounds the corner and stops short when she catches sight of the person standing by the table, her cheerful 'good morning' getting stuck on her tongue; she was expecting Pope and Kiara, not the goddamn sheriff! Shooting John B a wide-eyed look that makes him shake his head (what the fuck did that even mean?!), the redhead forces a smile and hastily offers her a wave.

"Uh, good morning, Sheriff. Sorry to interrupt, just, uh, grabbing some water."

She just nods in acknowledgement before turning her attention back to the brunet boy and Sailor breathes an inaudible sigh of relief. Holy shit, is that woman scary. She heads to the sink and keeps one ear on the conversation as she quickly fills a glass with water and pops two aspirin, the headache from last night made even worse by the addition of a whiskey hangover.

"I didn't realize you had company, John B. Wild night?" The sheriff asks and Sailor meets her friend's eyes again, her anxiety rising when she sees his thinly veiled panic. Her back to Peterkin, she silently implores him to say something, anything -hell, she even tries to subtly mime surfing with her hands to help him out- but he stays silent, so she gathers her courage, plasters a smile on her face, and twirls to face her.

"Busy day, actually. We went surfing all day after cleaning up the yard." She says, jerking her thumb toward the heap of broken branches piled by the fire pit visible through the living room window; when the sheriff turns to look, she quickly elbows John B in the side, ignoring his huff of surprise as she nods her head in her direction.

"Yeah, surfing! All day." He blurts out, sending Sailor a lukewarm glare when she quickly mouths 'what the fuck was that?' before they both straighten up and spin back to the older woman just as she turns to face them again.

"Right." Peterkin hums and arches one eyebrow as she glances back and forth between the two teenagers. "Now tell me, how'd you both get those bruises? They look pretty painful."

"Oh, this?" Sailor asks, pointing at her cheek with a casual shrug, "I tried to hang ten and bit it pretty hard. My board caught me right in the face."

Peterkin looks at her for a beat longer than normal and the redhead does her best to keep her expression neutral as her palms start to sweat. "Surfing, really? Thought you were pretty experienced in that department."

John B adds, offering some much needed back up, "Even the pros wipe out every once in awhile, you know?" He crosses his arms and leans back against the counter. "My board got me good, too."

"Yeah, it just was not our day," She says with a nervous chuckle, refilling her water and slowly starting to back out of the kitchen, pretending she doesn't see the dismayed look her friend sends her way; her anxiety can't take another second of the sheriff's piercing gaze and she needs to get away fast, lest she start recounting every single second of their activities both legal and not so legal- from yesterday in explicit detail. "And I'm still pretty tired so I'm just gonna go back to bed for a bit. Nice talking to you, Sheriff."

After disappearing around the corner before either of them can reply, she creeps down the hallway, keeping her footfalls as light as she can, and she's so focused on trying to listen in on what Peterkin's saying that she runs smack into JJ, standing in the doorway of the spare room. His arm instantly darts out to wrap around her waist and pull her close, keeping her from falling right on her butt as he says, "There you are-"

"Shhh!" Sailor hisses quietly, covering his mouth with her hand, "The damn sheriff is here!"

He mumbles something into her palm but she she holds a finger to her lips, pushing him back into the room and softly closing the door behind them before pressing her ear against it and dropping her hand from his face. He mirrors her position with a question clear as day in his wide eyes, 'what the fuck?', arm still looped around her lower back.

"She's grilling him about yesterday," She says simply, then turns her attention back to the faint voices floating through the door. The duo listens in silence, trying and failing to discern what's being said until they hear the sound of the sheriff's boots on the front porch and her squad car tires crunching through the gravel as she drives away and they exchange a worried look. JJ had it right: what the fuck, indeed.

"Holy shit, guys," John B's voice suddenly says from the hallway. The door opens before they have time to back away and it sends them sprawling to the floor in a twisted pile of limbs; the brunet boy -who'd usually find something like that hilarious- barely reacts to their position and sends them both a tense frown, his next words dropping like a damn anchor in the marsh.

"We need to go check out that Grady-White again, and fast."

Sailor groans and lets her head fall back onto the floor with a thunk. "Here we go."

let me know what you think! fun fact: ostriches actually do put their heads in the sand, but it's not because they sense danger. female ostriches bury their eggs to keep them safe from predators and they'll occasionally stick their head into the sand to check on them and give 'em a lil turn 😊

taglist ❤: @sinkbeneathwaves @jiaraendgame @hmsjiara @maysbanks @alexa-playafricabytoto @sunflowerbecca @obxlife @obx-adventures @sexualparkour @coltonparayyko @miawantsapuppy

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exactlyenoughglitter · 4 years

Text

Nocturne

AO3

Now let the day just slip away so the dark night may watch over you Like a child asleep, so warm and deep you will find me there, waiting for you

You don’t have to wonder why Just come and dream the night with me

She felt weightless and drowsy, despite having allowed herself to close her eyes only for a few seconds against a steel bird’s beam of light when it had come to survey the torn corpse of the giant apartment building. Ciri had stood on the elf’s feet and he had turned her away from the light, into the soft darkness that unfurled behind his tall form. Until the noise subsided, until prying eyes left them alone. White light had framed him, highlighting his contours and setting him between light and dark, where devils liked to play.

Where she had placed her feet on top of his boots, glistening red clung to earth. The Sage stood in it and held her above, away from the rivers of red.

Light and dark. Good and evil.

Ciri had closed her eyes and sunk into the night.

The music had stopped.

It was quiet, apart from the city’s ambiance and the rain. Fingertips roamed the seams on her back, moving faintly, from the tips of her hair come loose to where cotton left the skin undefended. Everything felt subdued like she was diving underwater, and with every breath she became increasingly familiar with the owner of the arms around her. Somewhere above the surface, in the back of her waking mind, she could still hear the trills of the flute playing its song of storms to the billowing green clouds that ate at the tallest of steel spires before drenching the concrete earth with dusted glass. No matter what the Knowing One played, Ciri couldn’t stop hearing the longing melody she had heard him perform once in a key-nosed boat on Easnadh; a long, long time ago, it now seemed, in the beautiful world of terrible elves.

The rain kept falling.

She felt herself losing sense of time.

Time does not matter.

Supple leather brushed against her jawline and she stirred against the momentary loss of warmth around her. Until a cool, inert wave spread across the base of her skull where long fingers had begun gently massaging, preparing her for magic that cocooned her mind in a feather blanket. It instilled calm and let the susurration of rain inside her, where always a fire or two raged. Aches and spasms too, which she hadn’t even been aware of, seemed to release their hold on her at the touch of knowing fingers. It felt incredibly soothing and unearned. At the thought of being given something for free another little fire kindled in her thoughts, but she was quickly persuaded to abandon the thought when another wave rolled across the taut muscles of her neck. A little rest, a little respite. It helped to remember that they were both drifters now; strangers at the end of the world.

In the warm, secure darkness of his shadow, Ciri barely registered when the thumbs of his hands began caressing her cheeks, pushing wisps of ashen hair out of her eyes. Carefully avoiding dipping against her scar, which often ached. Lately, he had begun suggesting he could heal it for her completely, though the woman was not sure if she should accept the offer. Looking at it reminded her of what was real.

Was it?

What was it that was more real about suffering than about happiness? Wouldn’t ridding herself of the harrowing reminder help her grow past it? Didn’t she want exactly that – to become someone else? She, who was singular and yet so often, in the abyss of space and time, no one. Ciri didn’t know; the spirit of truth often deceived her.

Whether due to the ministrations of magic or out of her own volition, or both, she felt her mind tarry at these thoughts, her muscles slackening further. It was difficult to resist the forgetfulness and dreams that tempted her when dark night could be this gentle.

Why focus on disturbing and unpleasant things now?

There was a tentative brush against her lips, a slow, circular, exploring motion. It quivered lightly, as if fearful of response. Ciri didn’t mind. Against the subdued tranquillity that had enveloped her, the touch felt distinct and singular, and she brushed her lips against its attentions. Lowering her lip, the tip of a thumb pushed forward against the wet inside, grazing her canine thoughtfully; and then made its way inside her mouth. An unexpected sweetness hit her tongue at the first slow stroke. Then again, but a little less; then less again, but it didn’t matter. If devils played here, then they were not the worst hosts.

A low sigh.

‘That’s good. That is very good, luned.’

Her eyes snapped open.

Why did she look so startled?

He had always secretly adored her like this – so candid and accepting, letting him take care of her every need. Trusting him to bear her burden with her. Who else, if not him?

But it had been so long. He didn’t know if he felt the same way anymore. Had she not abandoned him, had she not let herself be ensnared... Yet, here she was. Where had she been hiding all this time? Didn’t she know how terribly he had missed her? Last time they had seen each other, those eyes had pleaded with him, full of tears and remorse; how they had hurt each other on that day.

‘Avallac’h?’

Brilliant emeralds, blown wide in alarm and bewilderment.

You are mine. And I am yours.

He smiled bitterly.

‘What – what did you do?’

‘I gave you moon flower,’ he replied without hesitation. ‘It’s a mild anti-inflammatory and relaxant.’

Those accursed eyes widened inexorably. ‘No. No, no, this is not what I meant...’

You’re not a toad, my darling, he thought. You’re the hope of the worlds.

She had grown a lot in the time she had been on the run from them. Sadly, she still hadn’t learned how to phrase her requests so no one could take advantage of them. Oh, he couldn’t stay mad at her for his own outlandish expectations. Circumstance, both ill and fortunate, had nurtured this human girl so she had learned to focus all her efforts into her unfaltering will power and nothing else. Through that she had to carve out every new day better than the last. No matter who her sword happened to cut down, no matter the millions whose fate she irrevocably altered in the process. He was far beyond moralising. Like tonight, for example. His little, dancing Swallow.

‘Stop hiding behind your witchcraft.’

Hiding? Did she not realise –

She kissed him.

There were many ways in which Ciri could have made her life tamer, more predictable, and less overwhelming. Unfortunately, these somehow never looked like the best options in the moments before she unleashed something.

His lips were dry and fine, and unmoving.

For a heartbeat, she tasted nothing but herself and the sour fruits of her temper and clenched the front of the elf’s robes hard enough to leave tiny abrasions on the ball of her thumb. She refused – absolutely refused! – to believe she may have, once again, fallen on her own sword. She had liked how unrestrained he had been around her, his face unusually enlivened when he had circled her in dance tonight. He, too, must have felt it – that same call of possibility that had moved Ciri’s heart like strong gusts of summer wind in the steppe. Or he wouldn’t have entertained her to a look of astonishment when she’d broken through the spell of his tender darkness. He wouldn’t have...

A glacial bucket of dread washed down her back.

‘Who are you to dare abuse me with such miserable charity?’

Who was she? What was she doing?

Idiot.

Idiot!

In anger and humiliation, Ciri was about to retreat that very second, until she felt the sorcerer’s lips move against hers.

So, she stayed for a little longer.

Holding her jaw, the elf investigated her with a velvety touch. His answers, each increasingly demanding, ran a smarting hunger that sent writhing warmth pooling in her stomach as it sought satiation. Her heart raced, her frustration dissolving into cinders of surprise, whereas she had been hoping for the pleasure of vengeance. An “aerial vehicle” zoomed past in the rain, flashing bright lights and sounding its alarm. It fell on deaf ears. She felt his hands settle around her ribs, pulling her forward, again onto his feet. And up, higher, closer – from her vantage point to his.

Ciri sought air.

Small, even teeth briefly grazed the sensitive tissue, drawing her breath from her, and his taste and scent filled her mind with cotton wool. A fox from a ruthless fairy tale, whom a human girl had led in swallow circles, weaving her own notes into his music, heel and toe, spin and bow, at the end of the world. Strange, old, and powerful; and secretive. So secretive. So deceptive. Never one thing, always only who he chose to appear as from moment to moment. How could he expect this to be enough for her? Who was he to her, really? Who did she want him to be? Would he show her something real for once? When she tried him with the tip of her tongue, his arms moved more securely around her, locking her in, and Ciri sighed.

I do not get lost.

I do not!

And yet, I feel lost now.

The knowing smile an indigo-haired beauty had given her by the fires of protest and justice flashed in her mind’s eye – the heady excitement of losing herself to the blasphemy and electricity of sensation. As with Iskra, as with Mistle... in a different time and place. Because, at the end of the day that was what she liked to do, wasn’t it? In this alien time and place, a call she could not explain had drawn her away from the fires until she had found the sorcerer giving himself over to his music in the shadow of ruin, waiting. Much like he had once waited on the shore of a green lake, smooth as a mirror, underneath a bird cherry blossom. Effortless and exciting were the shadows of the Night City – one of which had waited for her to bring the moments destiny was made of to him and had proceeded to watch her lose herself in them. In secret, with only the elf’s own eyes to witness it.

Ciri felt heat rising to her cheeks.

Why do you continue to allow yourself to become ensnared, stupid?

He stepped forward on instinct when she tried pulling away, carrying her on his feet effortlessly like a doll. Ciri caught a glimpse of the look in his unusual aquamarines. It brought her to a halt. Had it been anger, mockery, or sadness, she would have understood, because she had felt and seen all of these in him. Not, however, this haunted, ardent desire – this greed – with which the elf watched her now. It made her wonder whose shoes she was walking in tonight, and if she could fill them.

And it frightened her.

‘Where are you going?’ he whispered when she finally managed to take a shaky step back.

‘Away. Or... I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, does it?’ she managed an unsure laugh, attempting to compose herself and indicating to the marred luxury of the place. ‘Or is this to be our new home, or what?’

He gave her another one of his strange looks.

Well, let him. It was all he ever did, anyway.

Ciri swallowed nervously against his taste. She needed to clear her head; this wasn’t...

Blood pounded in his ears.

In a stream of flickering neon light, Crevan saw green eyes studying him, growing ever more distant by the second. Her breath, slightly sour under the sweet notes of the physalis liqueur, lingered against his tongue and he felt very raw.

‘It’s alright!’ he called after her retreating form.

That made her stop.

He licked his lip; a small bruise. No matter. But where had all that impromptu joy disappeared to? Obstinately, she avoided looking him in the eyes when he drew near. How adorable she was, he thought; twilight lent her a beautiful sense of vulnerability that he so often chose to overlook. Uncertain, yet fierce; defiant against her own emotions to the last. Against feeling a little lost. He could understand that. Truthfully, he felt a little lost too at the moment.

It was only natural for her to feel lonely in this world – in all the worlds – despite making acquaintances easily. Acquaintances; nothing more. The worship of the unknowing could not survive when days slipped away and she had to return to the eternal night. When her hair was pulled by the stars again. How could they understand her – her story was outlandish and out of this world, and people saw her only for who she became to them. Yet, Crevan had known her longer than she had known herself. He and his people were of the same eternal night that called to her at the end of the day.

He lifted his hand to the nape of her neck, brushing her ashen hair, but the girl flinched and there was no laughter in her anymore.

Why are you hiding, little Swallow? Do you think, perhaps, that I deceived you somehow? Do you think my witchcraft has made this happen? Oh, sweet girl, if only you knew.

‘What is alright?’ she asked.

Was she scared of him? Ridiculous; she didn’t have to be afraid. He was not angry; no-no! How could he be? She had returned to him. She had found him, as destiny desired.

‘It’s alright to seek comfort,’ he repeated slowly, tasting each word as if trying them for the first time. ‘I forgive you.’

The elf witnessed her shoulders tense and a switch flick before she reversed course and cut at him with her deadly emeralds. The oscillation was so abrupt he took a full step back, noting with delay the Force that had jumped to his fingertips.

‘Have I asked for your forgiveness?’ she exploded. ‘What would I have to ask it for!? For letting you play with me? For responding? I don’t know if you are aware, but it takes two!’

His eyes narrowed and a cruel smile broke on his handsome face at the impending rupture he had invited and, somewhere deep inside his soul, pleaded for.

How we hurt each other on that day, Lara; how unforgiving and unforgivably stupid I was.

The girl leaned as close up to him as possible without touching, exuding heat and fury, crackling like ball lightning, and whispered: ‘You want me; and you cannot stand it.’

Crevan had temporarily lost track of himself in what followed.

He remembered that what she had told him she had said with such offensive bluntness, such ignorant presumption, self-importance, and arrogance as if only she had been privy to the childishly obvious, and that he, a Knowing One, a scientist, an artist, a musician and a poet, and the voice of her miserable destiny, could not have possibly understood. That at the heart of it all, everything seemed to come down to the banal matter of irrational, irresistible desire that trampled under its feet the good, the beautiful and the right, and spat on faith, hope, and love only to be sated there and then. That he wanted what he was promised, that despite everything, he wanted her, and so much more. That at wanting all this, he was as lowly as the creature due to whose selfish whims elves, futures, and worlds burned.

He remembered that he had wanted to gouge out the beautiful eyes in her face. And that he could not help seeing red.

When Crevan came to it was to the sound of his own name. An untidy sound, but not yet the prayer he desired it to be. Not yet uttered with awareness of what she tempted him with. He looked at her from above, to monitor the swirl of emotions that coloured her features. Her unfortunate, mesmerising features that were dear to his dark heart.

We both have fantasies that hide behind our lies.

It distracted him, the look of her in his hands – he could do anything with her – and, displaying her special swiftness she used it. He felt fingers hook in his hair and deliver a maximally painful punishment. Crevan howled. How nasty, unruly, and underhanded she was: like her callous ancestor; not at all like the princess she was born to be. Zireael cried out when he squeezed her wrists in retribution, sealing them above her head with a command, and the elf greedily swallowed the sound off her lips.

Do yours play with mine? Only for tonight, let’s say?

Her chest moved against his like the tide then and, against charred wall, he held her captive. Oh, she was furious with him, and rightly so. Though she was not entirely innocent herself. Had she wished so, she could have run from him even now. But with her indulgent thoughts laid bare and her lidded eyes on the kitsch murals above, his pupil’s mouth fell open, gasping for the pittance of air he generously allowed when he focused on tearing whimpers from her as from a beloved flute – with a torment of kisses left in ashen hair, against a slender, white neck.

Is this how you imagine it? When you follow my music. When you say you hate it.

Weaving the silvery tresses around his fist, he yanked, and she bent against him like a spring branch, a cherry blossom. Young flesh tightened like a bow string and blood rushed under pale skin in red blooms, flushing where it would bruise later. Her heart beat furiously against the stroke of his tongue.

Not everything is as pretty as it looks; not everything. You wish I indulged myself. Do you know what that means?

So close, so small. So striking in her choice agony. Wanting without knowing, giving without thinking, taking everything – without mercy to him, or herself. Oh, the indestructible optimism of youth! With his palms clasped around her head, Crevan taught his baby midnight what was at the heart of him and her: however much she gave, it would never be enough for him; whatever he did for her, she would never forgive him. Was this any way to live?

Will we play together, O Swallow?

He let his hands wander under her layers, stroking and caressing taut flesh which, though roughened with scars, remained so impossibly soft and responsive he couldn't stifle a violent groan and wedged his knee in-between her legs. The girl cursed vilely and the elf kissed the tip of her nose in delight. What would it have gained the Sage to hide his perversion in this god-forsaken world? From whom exactly? Why bother? Lifting the human girl on his knee and causing sweet frictions, he offered her a chance to use him and take some more from him as he watched. Instead, she stiffened in response to his avarice and held her own admirably against the shudders his charged touch was designed to bring on. Oh, was something the matter for his lustful little dh’oine?

'Go on. Move a little.'

Gradually, he felt her starting to offer resistance to his grasp and stared at her furiously.

‘What happened to the “you”,’ she breathed, ‘from the good old days?’

The elf bit down on her neck, smothering her cry with his hand.

How can I disarm you?

‘It’s “You”, not the informal “you”,’ he reprimanded her softly in Ellylon. ‘Be polite.’

Her fingers scraped paint from the wall above.

How can I make you accept me?

‘Does my playing not please you?’ he murmured. ‘Does it not please you to know that you have my undivided attention?’

And then it was his turn.

Crevan’s breath hitched in his throat; his eyelids drooped. A small, pink tongue wandered against the inside of his palm. With strength at first, with a hint of teeth, until he gave it more leeway to wander. Then carefully and with thought behind its actions, drawing small fine lines of lightning along the creases of his palm and tasting him, circling gently against the ball of his thumb.

Bottomless green pupils stared at him defiantly. They arrested him on the crumbling edge of the pool of yearning that had been filling up drop by drop ever since insolent, intoxicated eyes had feigned apology for making a mess of things and left him, laughing, when the woman who lived inside their depths had responded to a call of happiness he could not compete with. Until he had given in what felt like centuries after the fact; until he had gone after his lady of the lake.

Avallac’h wavered on the edge, and fell in.

Impulse propelled her and need ground the grains of fear and hope to the raging of an excited heart in her throat. When the Sage’s hands had wrapped around her face with inhuman strength and her back had hit the wall, Ciri had considered leaping, as foul memories had returned: of hands like steel-pinchers, capable of both good and great evil. Yet how exactly had it been her fault this time? And now... now she tasted Power on his hands, at once bewildered by the sensation and amused at the elf’s own reaction: he trembled against her. Absolutely nothing seemed to line up tonight.

Only blasphemy and madness in the shards of broken mirrors.

Avallac’h hadn’t even noticed when the looking glass broke, but she bet it hadn’t been made 700 years ago either.

Closing her eyes as he shifted his palm so she could slide her tongue in-between his fingers, she felt his warm, uneven breath hit her cheek and wished above all for him to feel exactly how he made her feel – addicted and overwhelmed. She could not command magic like he did, but she would make it fair, damn it! Therefore, when he suddenly pulled away from her and set her back on her feet, Ciri didn’t know what to think, say, or do. Everything was changing too quickly.

The elf gave her a playful look.

‘A sorcerer’s hands, O Swallow, are their most prized property; after their mind,’ he said. ‘Through them, he becomes a bridge between Chaos and Reality – a shield or a sword, if you like, or anything else he can only imagine. They are very sensitive; I ask you to tread with care.’

‘Figures,’ she muttered, burning up at the memory of having suckled on long fingers, as if under a spell.

He raised an eyebrow, and she had to make an effort to not look like she cared.

‘Then do not use them to restrain me like this!’ she continued. ‘I do not appreciate being muzzled like a mule.’ Listing the least of his offences as if it were the worst; well, she didn’t have the entire god damn list ready anyhow.

‘You’re right. Often you say very many interesting things I would just hate to miss. Before you act in most peculiar ways.’

She stared at his mouth, its edges darkened by her teeth marks – a mouth she often wanted to punch. A mouth she wanted to press against herself.

‘I’ve found that a little bit of restraint, while sometimes simply necessary, is even more often sweet,’ he eyed her with a secret smile. ‘Perhaps you’ll learn it too one day.’

Ciri reached out, eager to continue on the path of madness until it lasted. She wrapped her arms around his neck, lifted a thigh and placed it on his hip to pull him toward her, and she saw shadows move behind his eyes at that, but in the end, the elf did not react. Only watched her, breathing deeply and evenly. The contrast to less than a minute ago was so incredible that the woman pinched her aching hand to make sure she had not fallen asleep. She grimaced, falling back on her feet, feeling rejected and confused – not a dream at all.

A circus!

He reached for her wrist which she had been shielding against her chest after the magical bindings had dissolved. Cooing softly, when she made an attempt to repel him, he lifted it against his lips and blew on it.

‘You dance beautifully,’ he said. ‘Relentlessly, you dance for the beginnings that one starts to miss long before the end.’

Ciri snorted and was about to say something acutely acidic, but the elf wasn’t done.

‘You with whom the world has so often treated cruelly. Viciously, until you yourself retaliate with equal ferocity. Without allowing a moment’s relief for discovering what brings you joy or for what keeps you awake at peaceful nights when dreams are easy to touch and feel soft as down feathers. Many in whom you’ve sought comfort, many who’ve claimed to love you, have hurt you. Without care for what brings you pleasure. And without patience to recognize how willingly you will learn and how quickly and completely you throw your lot in with good causes – if only shown kindness and understanding. A little love, Ciri.’

She did not know why her eyes had begun to prickle with tears; she just knew the tears were angry and yet, not entirely. It seemed that they couldn’t be one simple thing, however much she wished they could. And it hurt a lot more that way.

He doesn’t have the right to talk to me like this.

‘I enjoyed our dance earlier very much,’ he said quietly. ‘My child of destiny, you always prepare for the worst, yet are still ever eager to rely on moments’ fleeting blessings all the same. You desire to lose yourself in your archipelago of moments, knowing how impossible it really is for you. And so, you’ve learned to seek your freedom in the erasure of yourself, though aware of the acute loneliness that greets you every time you try. Now you will try the same with me, yet I cannot allow this to happen. Will you believe me if I say it is for your own good? Do you understand how important it is that you do not lose yourself in our dance, in the night? No matter what I do.’

Why was he saying these things to her? Why did he pull at her only to spit her back out – to... to what? Lecture? Negotiate? Ponder!?

Her gaze fell on the state of the sealed-off accommodation: the signs of an explosion and a fire, the smashed glass, the red on the floor. The red she had put there in her self-abandonment, he had waded through, and they had danced in together before the elf had held her away from it inside a mirage of peace. How simple and effective, and how stupidly she had fallen for it. Avallac’h was still himself; as if he had not contributed gallons of pain and blood in the name of saving what was dear to him.

Why did he care why she did what she did?

Shouldn’t he have been delighted to get this chance to rendezvous with his dead love? No matter that a meagre and poor copy. He would still get what he wanted – Ciri knew what it was. She had always known, somehow. After having been forced to spend so long together, after having born the weight of his strange looks and moods, the knowledge had solidified. She was aware this arrangement, this retreat, did not come for free – nothing ever did. Did he still think her stupid enough to not know that things were often not how they seemed? That Ciri could not really be happy and he could not be free, and hell, that even vice versa it held true, didn’t it? Why did he have to ruin for her the fantasy that the opposite could also be true, if only for a night?

A little love? She didn’t need love.

She wanted to see that self-forgetful, raw emotion in his eyes again and to feel him tugging at her hair until it hurt. She wanted his lips to spill the truth inside her mouth, mocking and bitter, and then take from her until her debt had been paid. She was so tired of being unable to either claim her freedom or disappear forever. More so, of being denied even a moment’s possibility to imagine.

Avallac’h drew her forward and embraced her. Ciri heard his heart beating in his chest, as fast and powerful as before, and not slowing down despite his mercurial change of manner just then. His hands, she realised, were shaking.

Her tears of wrath quickly ran dry against his robes.

‘This is not how I want you to see me. This is not who I wish to be for you. Believe me. You do not know nor want to know what I want, but one day I will tell you. I promise,’ he kissed the crown of her head softly, his voice changing. ‘Sweet girl, you deserve so much. Allow me to show you!’

Before Ciri could realise what was happening, the elf had clasped her around the waist and lifted her up like a sheaf. The world spun. She could only squeak when, in a couple of long steps, he had moved them both across the room with ease. In his arms she weighed as little as a kitten – as when she had first discovered this, it still infuriated her. Ciri thought she heard the Sage give a short laugh and glared.

He sat her down on the edge of a large round table.

Then something pale flashed in the corner of her eye; a doily? Where he had produced it from, Ciri had no idea.

‘Are you laying the table?’ she asked when he set it down behind her.

The sorcerer’s eyes widened briefly. Quaint and disorientating – perhaps that alone had been the point? Slowly and deliberately, he loosened the silver hasp of his collar and began removing his belt, indicating for her to do the same. He was in no hurry and smiled easily at her. Ciri swallowed. Her fingers clenched and her heart beat faster. If only she had not smashed that bottle earlier...

Desiring to watch and let the distance grow between herself and the woman whose shoes she had decided to wear tonight, she began only once the elf stopped half-way through, having revealed inked skin underneath the enchanted fabric. Avoiding his searching eyes, she touched him curiously, thinking, of a sudden, about everything.

A finger tipped her chin.

‘Come then.’

She sought his mouth.

Questions fled.

Throughout, he kept threading his fingers softly through her hair, discarding the pins and letting the ashen locks fall over her collarbones. Until it became all undone. She stretched her arms out over her head – the shirt fell on the floor – and caught him admiring. The work of his hands? The past? The present?

...me?

Why is it me?

For a moment she thought she saw infinite tenderness in his pale eyes, though it may have also been the dark, the poor lighting, or her own wishful thinking. In the shards of broken mirrors, who knew what really was and what wasn’t?

To hell with it!

Ciri pressed her lips against the elf’s chin, against his face, against the sharp curve of his ear, listening for the sharp intake of breath and enjoying the twinge it sent between her legs. She drew him onto her, letting warm palms undo the rest. What if we never leave? We could simply stay – here, at the end of the world. Then she would rather act; wrongly or rightly, may that be revealed later. Lean, yet well-built, he ran hot against her front, bending over her and spreading her thighs. She remembered having forgotten herself and having let her eyes wander over the stretch of his shoulders in a different world, when he hadn’t been aware. Or if he had, he had not minded – Ciri had discovered quickly that very little embarrassed the elf, despite his enduring, snide reproval of her manners. He had not minded enough to call me on it or... Hypocrite! Yet even so, the prospect of being able to uncover something he would rather wish to hide excited her. Everything buzzed once more and the rain could not put out the fires. Offering her belly, her ribs, her hips and her chest, she arched, letting her head fall back, and gave herself over to the cool night air.

Distant lights of the alien city blurred in her eyes.

A moment’s fleeting blessings... an archipelago of moments.

A wet kiss slipped down the side of her neck, wrapping around the beat of her heart, sucking her flesh into a hungry, waiting mouth. She felt her breast being taken into the palm of his hand, weighed and squeezed carefully and, if she hadn’t shivered uncontrollably just then, she would have thought also somewhat clinically. Ciri jerked back, pushing at his hands and pursing her lips against the desire to sigh, to make noise. Goose bumps ran along her limbs and she ignored them exactly like she defied the touch that stroked her back from top to bottom, circling the lines of her spine, waist, and hips. A touch that slipped in-between the waistband, shifting her trousers aside, and pulled her toward him – until she could feel the elf’s desire and realised once more how deceptive her perception of him could be.

Her breath soughed as fingers dipped into the heat that had flooded between her legs.

‘That's it, my dear.’ He kissed her slowly. ‘Just so.’

She fought to retain hold over the faceless and the nameless – the familiar. With her eyes closed, she managed to imagine for a moment that the shameless touch stirring her pleasure had appeared at her own beckoning. That this night would not be that different from the many nights before when she had let go. When she had succumbed to the desire to touch and be touched, to see, but above all else, to be seen, and had thus brought herself joy. Ultimately always alone in the end.

A tiny vibration passed through the sensitive tissue, inviting her to lift her hips toward the fingers that infiltrated between her lips without hindrance. A touch of magic. Her eyes flew open, her hands seeking to ground herself against the convulsion that shot through her.

‘Too much?’

Avallac’h was watching her peacefully, almost as if in a trance, the corner of his mouth tugging slightly at meeting her gaze. Probing, teasing – charting her, with practice. She could hear herself lap against his long fingers. Scraping heat rose inside her chest, flooding her neck and cheeks, mingling with fleeting irritation.

‘A little.’

Another lighter wave followed. Every charged brush seemed to attune seamlessly with the intensity of the emotion that prevailed in her imagination at the moment and gradually, he eased her into a comfortable rhythm of slow torture that nurtured her arousal on a knife’s edge.

And if he takes hold of my soul – what for?

It felt good. That was all. Closing her eyes, Ciri tried to follow the sensations inside that she knew led her somewhere familiar and safe – to a kind of home within herself. It was a fragile construction, made of star silences and ceaseless movement, of leavings and returns. It was fleeting, and every time she arrived there she re-arranged it just in case, though she loved it always – she loved living, moving, and leaving behind shards of her intoxicated heart. Perhaps somewhere, sometime, they’d take root and call her back.

He encircled her by the waist, dipping her off-balance onto white lace and she felt a single finger penetrate her; followed, shortly after, by another. Caressing adoringly.

‘You deserve so much.’

Soft laughter escaped the woman’s lips and flew off, into the night.

Crevan relished the sensation of her mouth filling with saliva, her sparkling laughter withdrawing inside her when he instructed the tide to recede once more. Tiny eruptions sprinkled the steady rise and fall of the curve of her chest, raising little hair on lambent skin and making her fingers clench around his bicep. It did strange things to his mind, witnessing her be this keen and receptive. How quickly she filled up with desirous, nervous energy that made her burn like a copper sparkler! Magic, which the girl stubbornly claimed to have forsaken, rushed under her perspiring skin, sweet and electric against his tongue. The sorcery of the Alders.

The elf decided this was not nearly enough for him. Or her.

He leaned over her breasts, kissing and biting gently and savouring the flavour that was unmistakably hers, while attempting to quell the childish disappointment that bothered him eternally – like a disgusting little horsefly. She was... different than he remembered. How so? He knew her. Perhaps he simply needed to take a closer look? Patiently, one at a time, he nudged the rise of her nipples with his tongue, smiling and stopping his fingers deep within her when she gave a drawn out moan, full of need, trembling so hard he had to press down on her for restraint.

‘Avallac’h...’

Why do you give yourself to men? Why do you love them so much? Men, who do not love you, or care about your sacrifices. Men, who defile, destroy, and forget even their own.

‘Please, will you just... help –’

The elf didn’t listen to the end of her plea, instead hearing in his head the words uttered centuries ago. Doleful, harsh, cruel words that had ended in fire. He couldn’t convince her back then. Withdrawing and ridding her of breeches entirely, he pushed himself down, leaving a trail of kisses along the honed curve of her abdomen until his hands settled on her hips and he came above her aching centre. He heard his own heart beating then and, running his hands under her hips, squeezing and lifting her toward him, he gave the Swallow a small kiss. One. On the slick softness of her flowering lips.

Will you stay this time? Will you stay forever? Will you cross the great divide? Back to us. Back to me.

She gave a stifled lament, and became very still.

Reigning in his breathing and heart, he bestowed small kisses on the insides of her thighs, tasting her core a little at a time to remind and reassure that he would not neglect her. He would be so very good to her – he would help her find her way. For a moment, his eyes lingered on the rose tattoo that looked out of place somehow, until he recalled the blond-haired girl she did not want to talk about with him, though she often remembered her – sadly, with a complicated sense of longing.

Is your poison that different from mine?

Her eyes, he saw, had opened, but she wasn’t availing him of their beauty; blinking rapidly and gazing off into distance, at the far-off lights of the world of artificers around them. Their “new home” where might had draped itself in the appearance of magic. She liked it here, of course. So ugly and fake and... at liberty – to call itself whatever it wanted. So below them both, and yet –

A lot like this rose.

He was no common butcher, bandit, or cur, yet a part of Crevan wanted to rip down the veneer of this illusion of freedom she had been building in secret and crush it under his heels alongside the artificiality this world infected her with. Part of him, however, liked to watch hope kindling in her, even if it risked dragging her away from him one day.

Into the arms of the faceless and the nameless, the unknowing, who run their tongues with banal promises of happiness that they cannot bring and that will not stay.

Who comb your beautiful hair in admiration of their own nerve and prowess after having you – once, twice, as many times as you like; when they should be kissing your feet as you pass.

Her back arched, her hands snuck into his hair, and she pulled. Brushing aside the indignation – the jealousy! – in his heart, the elf pushed inside her with his tongue: his dancing swallow, precious and sweet, the first of spring, abandoned in his hands.

Dance for me!

Hungry for her taste, he kissed her intensely and attentively, completing what his fingers had begun. Warmth rolled off her in waves as her thighs strained against his hold, her body spasming, and her voice breaking into ever tenderer whimpers. Calmly, he let her drive herself against his face, smearing him as he suckled and kept swallowing her quivers, one after another, until she fell back against lace covers on chrome, pulsing, sweaty and so very soft.

Dance, Zireael – ensnared in Time’s cold cathedral. Like taking scissors to the skies, your flight slits through fear.

Climbing onto the table he lifted her legs onto his shoulders, not caring at all to let her go yet. Continuing to caress her warm and thirsty flesh with his tongue, Crevan laughed lightly when she complained, her voice small and dissolute and cracking under the weight of her own desire. Her young and ardent body intoxicated him, and he had never denied being greedy. He wanted more of her honesty and delightful agony, and, feeling the familiar press of desire in his groin, he wanted to feel what it would be like to get inside her tonight.

If it were to end in fire, let it all burn down at once – wasn’t this her philosophy?

Again she trembled, murmuring his name in the way he liked to hear it, straining and struggling until she had finally wrung herself out of his hands. Let that be that then. He licked his lips, breathing heavily, and felt, for the first time in a long time, utterly undone. Leaning over, he looked on her heaving shape: her long ashen-hair spread around her head like a halo. His beautiful, scarred nightmare. Would you like me to show you how you appear in my dreams? A moment, Zireael. I will, in a moment. Looking for her mouth, he shifted a lock behind her ear – her round ear, hidden in ash.

Do you see this, Lara, my love?

He gathered her in his arms. Glass crunched under his boots.

What madness! Do you see what exquisite punishment fate delivers on me? On your behalf.

‘Did you like it?’ he whispered, cradling her. ‘How do you feel? Do not be shy and tell me.’

But Zireael did not appear to share in his elation, her gaze lost somewhere he could not follow. She gave a thoughtful smile, resting her arms around his neck. Not embarrassed at all at tasting herself off his lips, it seemed.

‘What is it? Hm?’ he touched her nose. ‘Talk to me.’

Small, impassioned, and alive.

Alive!

If she had asked anything of him right now...

‘Zireael?’

‘It’s nothing. I just –’

Who knows what she would have told him in the end. When he linked their minds, he almost dropped her due to witnessing the contrast between what she was thinking and what she, in fact, did - the heat of her action, the coolness of her thought.

‘– would like a rest... yet you call me irresponsible for wishing for it. Always in conflict, always between two worlds – I would like to be at peace one day. To choose a nook, make a final choice – my own...’

Running her tongue along his index finger, she sucked him into her mouth, observing him with languid, evil eyes. She didn’t like it when he read her, but to his credit he kept his violations discreet, and thus rarely dismayed her.

‘Me en'ca minne, please...’

‘What?’

‘If you insist like this –’

‘Will you come?’ her eyes narrowed enchantingly. ‘On top of me?’

Crevan may have laughed, or groaned, but then she had placed her hand against his chest and he had obeyed, lost in the boreal greens that defied time and hatred and death; that coalesced above and beyond, in the archipelago of moments, and laughed at him from beyond the grave.

Falling back onto a couch the elf pulled the girl into his lap and hugged her until she squirmed under his hands. Her lips, shameless and burnt with love, moved against his with sweet timidity, devoid of the swagger she wore on herself like a shield at all times against further hurt and abandonment. The tenderness this instilled in his heart aroused him tremendously. He imagined clasping her wrists together and tying them with a gentle, secure knot, and also finding something for her calves... silk, scarves – anything that would not intimidate, that would set her at ease with him. It had to feel as soft as herself. But he would make the bindings firm to ensure she would not fly off, that she would struggle while in his power, feeling safe and adored, until white, hot pleasure had claimed her – repeatedly. Because once would have hardly sufficed; he never taught half-heartedly.

Until you will open your wounds, and make them a garden.

Listening carefully – to her heart, his own, to time and the ghosts – he pressed her close, and penetrated her.

‘A-ah! Slower-slower...’

‘Shh-shh-shh, it’s alright.’

‘It hurts a little.’

‘It’s alright,’ he rasped, slowing, eyes dark with desire. ‘It’ll be alright. I’m sorry. I could wait no longer.’

Yet his movement elicited another contorted sob from her and it gnawed on his soul like dry ice how she sought to subdue it. Touching her soaked inner lips with his fingers, the elf rubbed softly where he'd entered her. What exquisite pain ate at him below the kidneys – she was so narrow, so wet and hot. For him and only him... Tonight and always. Isn’t that right, my beautiful girl? Only for me. For a while, he thus tried to soothe her, caressing her with his hands and tongue, despite everything in him boiling and cracking with frightful hunger. His little Swallow demanded gentleness and deserved all the care and patience he could extend her. He had given his word.

What will we do to each other? What will we become?

At the touch of his magic the girl yelped and stared.

He felt very happy.

‘After you.’

Aided along by soothing touch, the witcheress sunk on him slowly while he watched, like an artist appreciating his creation. Her tangled hair stuck to her neck, her lips parting for a wail that faded into an indulgent sigh as she allowed him inside, little by little. Dripping on him, sticky, sweet. Her thighs hugging his sides. Her fingers spreading across his chest, touching down on his heartbeat. And though he couldn’t help looking inside her thoughts out of caution and habit, he needn’t have. Every anxiety, bliss, and sensation revealed itself at once, and the elf struggled at the sight of pliant flesh stretching around his length, swallowing him and his sanity whole.

Perhaps he should have let her go, but could he really?

In daytime, nothing would have been easier – it sufficed to press on her unrefined soft spots, of which she had many, and the illusion Crevan laboured under would have instantly shattered into so many smithereens. Now? Now he wished to drive her to exhaustion, until she whimpered brokenly and begged him, until she cooed in her sleep, sweaty, found and taken care of, and wrapped tightly around him. Not once considering leaving him.

He realised the enchantment wielding its power over him. It had begun working on him long before her birth, turning into a compulsion when he had met her, and into an addiction when he had first felt acute anger pierce him over the thought of someone else’s hands touching her. So long ago it now seemed, when she had been to Tir ná Lia. He had understood nothing at the time, yet he had understood one thing that applied equally now as it had long ago: he had never been free to choose. And neither had she.

The honeyed warmth of her womb enveloped him, dragging him in a spiralling descent that dizzied and revealed. No more discomfort or regret on her face; only self-abandonment and delicious distress. He wound his fingers in her hair and tore her neck back, disrupting the pace she had chosen – more comfortable for her than him – and, when she was able, she paid him back in kind with her teeth. An animal and an angel. His black diamond who tames the night itself and makes it dance to her tune. The thought ate at his spirit, his will, his heart, and he groaned into her mouth. Greedily, her hips rolled in tandem with his, her skin gleaming with effort, until the pleading, distressed sounds gushing from her lips began losing their coherence, becoming increasingly vulnerable as she continued to sit on him.

Good girl. Trust me. Take from me. What took you so long? What kept you?

Over and over, he squeezed into the ardent body. And when exhaustion began settling in the woman’s thighs, he seized her around the waist and slid on top of her, penetrating to the end. Feeling her arch her back he regretted only that he could not keep gazing freely at the desperation building inside haunting eyes. He would have liked to linger, to take her slowly. Have her crumple the sheets in exasperation and experience the torture Crevan had felt every time she had innocuously coiled around him during their travels. Yet, he did not dare to tempt fate again.

‘My sweet child. My joy, my darling... I waited for you. So long, I waited,’ he murmured in-between thrusts. ‘How I missed you. Terribly. How I searched – now you will stay. Won’t you, my love? You will stay, for Dana help me, how I do not want to let you go... never, Ciri... never again...’

Make your final choice. Want what I want. Stay...

When he changed the angle and she moaned around the fingers between her lips, he wondered if uncovering his secret felt worth it to her yet. You cannot run away from knowledge, Swallow, once you decide to pursue it. When she attempted to stretch out her spine, away from him – in opposite to how he guided them – the sorcerer sunk on her small form and drew her tightly against himself, denying her all reprieve. It always comes – at a price.

‘Give me your word, luned. Promise me, you will stay.'

‘You’ll have to put a spell on me. Make me.’

He ground against her, desperation and anger choking him once more at her thoughtlessness. It hurt her.

Fingers gripping hair – his, hers – hot breath against the temple – his – an arm squeezing around the ribcage, leaving red welts behind on pale skin – hers.

It hurt him. Her childish flippancy. She should not invite him, tempt him. She didn't know he would pull her very soul from her to ensure she stayed.

Faintly though, he then heard the girl speak.

‘Don't lose me. Don’t leave... please. Don’t leave me alone again.’

And Crevan promised. He would see her through to the ends of her earth, where only oblivion yawned. Like a yellowed aspen leaf, he felt her writhe in distress, trying to recede into herself and away from the promise shared with her, and he refused to let her leave.

‘Look at me. Open your eyes and look at me!’

‘More.’

He bowed before her wish. Bending his back, he leaned his forehead against hers and kissed away the salty wetness beside her beautiful eyes. No pain, little one. She’ll never be alone again. He’ll fill her. He’ll make her see what he sees. She’s something more. Feeling her buck fruitlessly against his hips as she convulsed around him, he revelled in the trembling contractions that pulled him deeper into the secret warmth of her – where innocence lay. He would not allow her to fly away. He would not have time repeat itself in vicious recurrence when hope had finally bared itself on the palm of his hand.

Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive...

Her eyes, when she opened them again, were pure witch fire.

His restraint broke.

Overcome by a need that terrified him, he loosened his hold around her to move faster and deeper into warm flesh, deaf and blind, uncaring of her quivering. What he told her then was at once mellifluous and obscene. Her skin stuck to his, the smell and feel of her sucking onto his every thought, every memory like a vicious leech and he felt as if imprinting onto the face of a bold human girl with beautiful emerald eyes, intersected by a scar on her cheek. No other, just her. Just her... his Swallow, the first of spring.

He crashed on top of her, pouring into her at the end of his lust.

At some indeterminate point in time, the elf stirred – to the curious absence of the patter of rain, as it were. Shifting, he felt his seed spill out of a cooled body and Ciri gave a quiet moan, tightening around him imperceptibly. He looked at her for a long time.

Then he extracted himself from night’s embrace, gathered the woman against him, and got up.

---//---

Avallac’h stirred the concoction one last time – with a straw in the shape of a giraffe, because the kitchen, to his great misfortune, had been wiped out by the fire, and thus this novelty lab had to do. He had remembered too late how asinine this half-baked alchemy was – after he had already prepared two thirds of his precious ingredients. He didn’t have to waste resources when there already were alternatives in this post-biological nightmare. It served as some amusement to him that humans in this world had taken to contraception out of sheer hedonism, yet it didn’t quite make up for the daze in which he operated this morning.

Incinerating the straw and wiping the surface of the round table, the elf pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. His gaze fell on a broken piece of simulacrum tech in the corner. Mechanical thought patterns were what stood between humans and paradise.

What he'd gotten up for had also been... mechanical.

They were on the run. The timing wasn’t right: the roots between them were still shallow, and her trust in him fragile, to be nurtured at all cost. The fabric of the fate he had foreseen was delicate, and this time he wanted to be absolutely sure.

And yet...

‘What if we never leave? We could simply stay – here, at the end of the world.’

There were many spheres, many times and places, moments through which fate branched, forked, and twisted.

Crevan covered the cup with a saucer, left it, and went to wake the Swallow, walking across the shards of a broken mirror barely a quarter of a year old. He wanted to take another look and think. Before what was meant next...

#the witcher #avallac'h #ciri #cirilla fiona elen riannon #cirillac'h #cirillach #ciri x avallac'h #the witcher fanfic #smut #psychoanalysis #aen elle #lara dorren #crevan espane aep caomhan macha

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probably-writing-x · 4 years

Text

If your world ends

(Guzmán x reader)

-Hello! I’ve made a semi-return. I’m not really expecting anyone to read this but I’ve had such an urge to start writing again sooo... here we are! Elite is my absolute favourite so here’s my first writing for that, I hope you enjoy. Criticisms are absolutely welcome if you feel like I could be doing better. But anyway, if anyone wants to be tagged or wants to have a chat - let me know! Have a wonderful day!!

Fun fact of the day - I got a haircut and I’m already regretting it :))))

The traffic today seemed to be relentless today as Guzmán tried to make the drive home. The sun had set almost two hours ago now and Guzmán’s drive to get dinner suddenly felt like the worst idea ever. The takeout food was already long gone. He’d been stationed in the same spot for so long that he’d shut off the engine and was now trying to find any way of distracting himself as to not get excessively bored. He fiddled dismissively with the loose thread around the rip of his jeans and tapped along to the beat of the music on the other leg. It was only then that the sound of his phone ringing offset his distraction and made him jump back to reality.

“Hello?” He begins, setting his phone onto speaker like he still had slight faith that this traffic could start moving at any moment.

“Guzmán?” It’s Ander on the other end, “Thank god I got through to you.”

“Ander!” Guzmán grins, “How are you man? How was your trip?”

Ander and Omar had recently got back from their first holiday together and he’d almost grown bored of hearing how excited Ander was about it.

“Guzmán listen, it’s (Y/n),” Ander begins, “She just got some really bad news and I think it’s best that you know.”

“What? What is it? Is she okay?”

“Her father’s just passed. He was in a car accident, they think it was a drunk driver crashing into him. They pronounced him dead at the scene.”

Instantly, with no warning, his heart sinks so far that it feels as though his stomach is turning in on itself. That couldn’t be it. He must’ve fallen asleep - dreamt it. No. (Y/n)’s father was the only family she had, always. Her Mum had left her when she was young and she’d never had any siblings. So it was just her and her Dad. When Guzman, her, Ander and Polo were young, they’d go round to hers because he’d let them get away with not doing their work, he’d trust them to not mess up the kitchen too much when they decided to bake his birthday cake. He treated them like three sons with his one, wonderful daughter. There was no way that he’d gone. That she’d lost him.

“She’s in a really bad way man, we’re here with her now but I’ve never seen her like this,” Ander explains, “I know you guys don’t talk but you deserve to know, he was part of all of our lives.”

It’s true. Even when she and Guzmán had started dating, he’d been that perfect mix of caring, protective, and everything you’d want in a father in law. He even told him the truth when they split up - that they’d both lost something beyond special. He’d be there for his daughter, Guzmán hurt her, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t clasp him on the shoulder and show some sort of sympathy.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m glad you told me - send her my love I guess.”

Guzmán knew he wouldn’t do that. Having not spoken to each other for a year, the first way they communicated would not be through Ander.

He bids farewell and ends the call just as the traffic ahead starts to move slightly. The exit for his house was just past this one. But there was too much of a pull to not turn off at this exit - the one that would take him to hers.

It’s as he’s driving that a thousand thoughts of her cross through his mind. Where was she when she found out? Was she out drinking with her friends, even a boyfriend? Had she winced at the taste of wine and tried to swallow it down without anyone noticing? Maybe she’d been sat alone in the house waiting for him, putting on a show she didn’t care about so that they could watch their favourite as soon as he came through the door. Either way, he’s convincing himself more and more to drive to her without a second thought.

- - - - - -

As he’s nearing the door, it’s like Guzmán can hear the thousand reasons for him to turn back and leave her be - he wouldn’t want to cause any more problems for her on a night like this. But something told that young boy that he couldn’t possibly turn away from her, he’d regret it for the rest of his days.

His knock feels like it’s basically silent but it’s Omar that opens the door.

“Guzmán,” He says it like he’s just as surprised as Guzmán is.

Omar must see the lost hope in his eyes, the drop of his shoulders and the fear behind his quivering lip.

“She’s just through here.”

And there you are. As he walks through the hallway into the grand lounge, it has never looked more empty. All his eyes can focus on is you. Ander’s arm is wrapped around your shoulders but you’ve never looked more emotionless. Your eyes are reddened and swollen and are fixated on no point in particular, your hands clasped around an unused tissue.

When Ander’s gaze glances toward the boys, he instantly loosens his grip on his friend. It’s the only thing that shakes you slightly from your daze. How long had you been like that?

“Guzmán,” She half mumbles, barely audible against the blaring silence of the large house.

“Are you okay, (Y/n)?” Ander settles his hand over your knee.

You turn and glance at him quickly, “Yeah, you guys go home honestly. You need to get some rest.”

“No, you can’t be alone,” Omar encourages, stepping forward behind Guzmán.

“I’ll stay,” Guzmán speaks, his eyes never leaving you for a split second.

Ander glances between the two of you like he’s flashing back to a year ago - when you’d been crying over losing Guzmán and him and Omar stayed to comfort you.

Once they’re gone this time, it’s just you and him.

He steps down the few stairs until he joins you and takes a seat on the sofa just a few inches too far away from you.

“I’m so sorry (Y/n),” He croaks out, not expecting to lose his strength so quickly.

You take in a deep, shaky breath and try your best to respond, “I can’t believe he’s gone. He was meant to see me graduate, get my degree, he was meant to see me get past eighteen Guzmán.”

You’re trembling again as another load of tears resurface.

“Hey, hey, hey,” He sighs, shifting closer to you and settling a hand on your thigh.

He doesn’t grip too tight, and doesn’t move his hand too high - he’s too fearful of you pulling away from him.

“He’s gone,” You sob, realising now that it’s too much as you collapse into his side instantly.

His arms wrap around you instinctively and pull you as close as you can possibly be to him. He’s afraid you’ll break if he grips too tight, but even more afraid you’ll slip away if he loosens his hold.

- - - - - -

Time passes quickly with the two of you like that. Guzmán never takes his sight off of you as your son slowly slows and you’re simply holding onto him just as tightly as he is to you.

It had been a year since he’d let you go, since you’d decided to cease all communication and admit that this wasn’t working. The end of your relationship was a twisted story of fear of losing each other, the fear of not being enough, of losing everything you’d had since you were four years old - it caused you to force yourselves into believing that you weren’t meant for each other. That this wasn’t forever.

But now that it felt like your world was coming to it’s premature end, Guzmán wasn’t letting go.

“You should probably go home,” You finally pull away, sniffing and wiping your nose, “I don’t want you driving too late.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

You pause and swallow the lump in your throat.

“I can go if you want me to,” He points out, not wanting to overstep and cause you anything more than you were already going through.

“You can stay, if you want to...”

He feels the lump in his throat build, “No, no, honestly, I don’t have to-“

“No,” You’re quick to interject, “I want you to stay.”

He can’t help himself when he lets a small smile shadow on his lips, “Of course.”

- - - - - -

“I’ll set up on the floor, the blankets are in the cupboard down the hall right?” Guzmán asks as he faces the wall to let you get changed.

You hadn’t asked him to - he’d taken it as a given. Of the two of you were dating, he’d have grinned and wrapped his arms around your waist, scattering your skin in kisses until you were giggling.

“Guzmán,” You say before he can leave, “Would you mind sleeping in the bed with me?”

He holds back a smile again. You were stood there, asking him to stay with you, in a jumper that he knew you’d stolen from him when you two were dating. You looked weak and broken and all he wanted to do was wrap you in that jersey and hold you tight all night. And the morning, and for every day to come where you didn’t feel strong enough to face it on your own. In fact, he wanted to be holding you on the days when he felt that way too, only you.

That’s how the two of you stay all night. He climbs into bed beside you, wearing his clothes from the day. He knew he wouldn’t be sleeping anyway. Guzmán stretches out an arm and you tuck yourself in beside him, letting his scent and strength engulf you.

He knows you’re too drained now to talk. He just knows he needs to be with you. To hold you and to tell you that you didn’t need to be alone in this mansion tonight. You wouldn’t be alone when you saw your father’s empty bed, or when you woke up in the morning and he wasn’t making breakfast for the two of you, when his car wasn’t on the drive. Guzmán knew you needed someone. Your world felt like it had stopped when you’d got that news, and he would be there until it started back up again. Every step of the way.

He knows that you don’t fall asleep. You both just lay there in silence - trying your best to digest the ongoings of the evening and make sense of the news you’d been hit with. That’s how you stay. For hours and hours, in pure insomniac silence.

- - - - - -

When Guzmán wakes in the morning, he’s probably only got through a couple of hours sleep, he heard you crying in your sleep and had to fight the urge to wake you up instantly. He dreamt for a split second that you weren’t there and had to jump awake to make sure you still were. You hadn’t let go of him all night - only tightening your grip when your dreams got the worst of you.

He slips away when he knows you’re still sleeping and pads down to the kitchen, trying to avoid making any noise in this eerily quiet house. He should be able to hear your father on an international business call, or be sneaking past his ajar door when you’d convinced him that Guzmán wouldn’t be staying the night, he should be having an early morning conversation with him about his dreams and where he saw his life going. He shouldn’t be questioning how you’d get through the loss of the most important person in your life. The thought made tears pool in his eyes.

One night he remembers vividly trickles into the front of his mind as he stands behind the kitchen counter, brushing a finger over the marble surface. You’d been out at a party hosted by Lu and the two of you had been competing all night in far too many drinking games. Your father had been away on business and the two of you certainly made the most of the idea. You’d stumbled through that door at an ungodly hour and didn’t even make it past the kitchen when he couldn’t get enough of you. In the end, you woke up outside beside the pool and found yourself in hysterics of laughter as you tried to piece together what on Earth had happened the night before!

That’s where he finds himself now, sat on the edge of one of the loungers by the pool. He wanted to take you back to then. When your biggest fear was falling asleep before your Dad’s flight landed. Or when you were forcing your Dad to trust you at parties, when he first started teaching you how to drive. When Guzmán first told him that you weren’t just a friend to him anymore. He wanted to pocket all of those moments and relive them all so you’d have another eighteen years with the man who took on the ‘both parents’ role, practically for you, Guzmán and Ander at times.

The thought made him want to rip his heart out and give it to you until yours found a way to bandage itself up. That’s when he finds himself crying. Because he’d lost a great man too.

He’s oblivious that you’re even there until you’re right beside him, wrapping your small arms around him to try to give as much comfort as you could.

“Shit, sorry,” He grumbles, dragging a hand over his face, “I shouldn’t be the one crying.”

You shake your head, “He loved you too, Gus.”

Guzmán smiles gently at the nickname - it’s one that your Dad gave him when you first became friends and he couldn’t remember his name, all those years ago. It sort of stuck ever since whenever your father tried to wind him up.

“Thank you for staying with me,” You say it quietly because you know your voice is broken down from your many waves of tears yesterday.

He shakes his head and squeezes your thigh lightly, “I’ll stay as long as you need. No reason to say goodbye just yet.”

You take in a deep breath and settle your hand over his on your leg, leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder. Your bottom lip trembles once again and you draw in a shaky breath as your tears betray you. But he’s there with you, and he hasn’t left your side. And, somehow, that feels like the weight of the world isn’t only on your shoulders.

He sticks to his promise - he’ll be there for as long as you need.

- - - - - -

(I’m sorry if this was hella sad :/ I love you if you got this far! Let me know what you thought!!)

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obeymematches · 3 years

Note

Hello! May I request for a matchup?

I am a bisexual, Demigirl ENFP-T personality type.

I'd say I'm somewhat independent but would love to have someone by my side to happily live with, I find trust as something that is very important and due to past reasons it can be difficult to earn my full trust. I try to always be a reasonable and mature person, but I can get irritated at a few things (like LGBTQ+ discrimination, racism or plain asshole stupidity) that can tick off a temper, but usually I'm a person of patience, though if I do get really angry then I'm gonna also end up having a mental breakdown later -. I'm fine with waiting and am usually very forgiving. Religiously I'm an atheist, technically ex-christian due to family reasons. I come from Estonia, so I'm bilingual with English and Estonian but am also learning Russian and German. (Thinking of learning Japanese one day too)

I'm a rather fidgety person, fingers always have to be doing something, I can also have rather terrible memory sometimes with things and can forget.

I have low self confidence and self worth, usually struggle to be optimistic and can be rather emotional, also often an absolute empath when it comes to fictional characters for example.

I can be a workaholic and can be terrible at taking care of myself, I easily lose track of time and can forget to eat at times, also have a fuzzy appetite so sometimes I might not want to eat anything at all. I care alot about other people's well being though, for me appearance doesn't matter, I care for the personality and think everyone is beautiful in their own way. I am a short chubby brunette with a boy haircut and brown eyes, my hair is often thick and poofy and sometimes hell to take care of, due to some health reasons I have an itchy scalp and have to often scratch my head. My fashion depends on just if the clothes are comfortable to wear in the moment, that's it. I wear glasses due to a bit of a negative in my sight.

I sometimes struggle to have a balanced sleep schedule and am often stressed.

I hold a strong love for animals and the nature around us. I especially love cats and reptiles and own a cat and a leopard gecko who I would die for.

Fiction is an important part of my life, the moment I get interested in in some show or franchise you can expect me to become an absolute nerd for it, (good example is Pokemon.) I am the type to analyze characters and really care about everything. Books, shows, movies, theatre, anything goes. I really also love music, 60% of the time you can find me listening to music somewhere, maybe even singing, I multitask alot too. My music taste depends on what connections I make to fictional media, especially that of my own, aka stories and characters I've created. My mind is always going like a 1000km/h with all types of thoughts, my own fictional universe only keeps expanding which I wish to share with the world. My dream is to become a writer one day, which I'm very passionate about, and another thing I really want to do one day is travel the world. I also do some art and animation, but intend to keep it as a hobby on the side.

I'm an ambivert, shy and hesitant around new people especially those of higher authority and importance, but incredibly outgoing with the people I'm familiar and comfortable with, never getting tired from them. Affection starved, expect lots of hugs, not that much into PDA tho. For me first impression matter, on my part, I am quick to think that people hate me or are annoyed with me.

Even with my fuzzy appetite I do like food, especially of strong flavour, I tend to seem to like asian or Italian food alot. I'd say I'm decent and cooking but not very good at baking.

Minimalistic, not very demanding when it comes to anything, it's basically like "Better than nothing." would be the type to live in a rather small house one day. Somewhat organized in my own way, sometimes I can act a little OCD though when something is out of place in a manner that it's just - no.

I can be rather talkative, when getting in a conversation with me expect to talk for hours about all types of things, wherever the conversation goes. Even better when it's over a cup of tea or a long walk somewhere outside.

I usually try to be as polite and kind as possible, though I sometimes struggle, I always try to have hope for the world, despite my incredibly pessimistic mindset.

For a partner, I look for someone I can geniuenly be happy and comfortable with, someone I can be open with and not worry about being lied to. I would be incredibly loyal to them and I'd hope them to be as well, of course, I don't get jealous or worked up if they're hanging out with friends. I want them to also be happy, someone I feel like I could spend the rest of my life with. Someone who'd be okay with traveling and seeing the world with, someone I can just have a moment to relax with, sometimes just talk and listen to eachother. Like stated before the appearance for me doesn't matter, it's the personality- what's inside that does. I shall note, the harmless teasing can get to me. Someone who's a geniuenly good person despite whatever flaws they might have.

I hope this is long enough ^^

Hi my dear patient anon!

guess what time it is!✨

i put a read more because it’s one long post!

OK so as I read through your request I had Levi, Belphie, Beel and Satan on my mind. Though Belphie is out of the picture fast since you have low self-esteem and if anyone then he probably would take advantage of that. Satan too I think. (I know in general he is viewed as an overall good boy but i feel like he might scare someone with low confidence levels when he is at his worst. also he can be manipulative too if there is a situation)

wait- damn- Simeon also exists (also Mammon? though with him and you it’d be a very rough start)

so after some elimination and comparison between dynamics including Simeon, Levi and Beel I decided to match you with Levi but I highly encourage befriending the other two! ✨ Simeon because of the similar interests + excellent cooking and Beel because he is a mom-friend + you’d always have something to eat too if he is your friend!

phew it wasn’t an easy decision but here it is!

Okay so let’s see Levi

Okay first things first I think we need to change your level of confidence my friend. Which means starting off this relationship as friendship - honestly he is on the same page as you regarding this for similar reasons so you two can relate to the other. But once you gain a healthy amount of sense of self-worth + confidence I think this friendship could develop into a very loving and healthy relationship!

Just because he is a demon I don’t think he would use you, lie to you, manipulate you or anything similar to that. I mean you have similar interests and in canon Levi shows just the bare minimum of interest to someone whose lifestyle + likes aren’t similar to his. Also you’re his only friend besides Henry so why would he treat you bad I mean come on!!! he’s not stupid!!

Since your relationship is based on being friends trust will come in time, do not worry! Levi is also picky when it comes to ppl so again as you are in the same boat you understand the other deeply.

I mean Levi can be serious when the situation calls for it but in general you being with him would give you a nice balance with your maturity. He’s not childish but he has different approaches! Meaning he could learn from you but you could also learn from him!

Tbh i highly doubt he would ever tick you off either or purpose or not. He is mostly annoyed by stupid ppl (like Mammon) and normies but since you are also into anime you’re safe!

You having an interest in languages is something he will find fun! if i recall in the devildom there’s only one language? (they speak human for you though) so finding out about human world lore like that through you is going to be fun! also pls learn Japanese with him! (pretty sure he already knows so he could help you practice)

Okay so he can also spiral down due to lack of self-worth + self-love but as his friend you’re not supposed to let that happen!!

well he also tends to forget about himself but on a side note he is very caring about you and your health so he is faster at taking care of you than himself. That’s why you have to look after the other especially at first when both of your self-worth levels are so low.

pls tell him he is beautiful he will be flustered for the rest of the day but it’s worth it trust me

he absolutely finds glasses cute af he just has to look at you and !!!

He’s not big into fashion either, though he would love to cosplay with you so hopefully you are ok with wearing cosplay sometimes!

Also your workaholic tendencies might get to him sometimes? like i’m not saying he is lazy but for sure he could do better. Thanks to your influence he will do better!

the two of you gushing over fictional characters is just so cute;; think about that!!

ok he is your #1 supporter of becoming a writer!! pls let him be your beta reader aaaaa

well both of you are passionate so the emount of encouragement happening in this relationship is to die for

him being a shut-in means he’s not very big on traveling, but if he could go with you he’s quick to change his mind!

he also has trouble balancing a healthy sleep schedule but that just means you two can spend more time together so it’s a win-win situation

pls leave your cat with Satan when you visit Levi’s room because of Henry :( your gecko is more than welcome though!!!

okay he is also affection starved af but he would never initiate to save his life so here you being an ambivert is helpful!! also it leaves you space to tease him which is always fun!

regarding food you have a nice balance going on, he is more of a baker and you are the opposite! though cooking/baking with the other is always fun!! when he notices your lack of eating he will make sure to order/bake delicious food from the human world for you!

well he isn’t the messiest so hopefully your OCd wouldn’t kick in when you spend time in his room. I like to HC that he is actually very clean. If anything is out of place in his room it is because it was meant to be there. Or he was in a hurry.

about long walks outside you’d probably have to nag him a bit but soon he will realize that it’s actually not so bad.

bby is one of the most loyal demons out there so no worries you’re safe!! however he can be jealous easily so it’s nice that you are also loyal! just make sure to clear boundaries before establishing a relationship!

he’s not one to tease you but he is very into you teasing him, so that’s that

overall i don’t think this relationship would have huge conflicts - sure, you have to nag him about going out but he is not going to protest once he learns that it’s actually. fun. to go out sometimes. i’m more concerned about the two of you’s self-worth and confidence levels, but again it’s about what you do for growth and it’s not something that can’t be changed if you want to change it. besides these i think it’s a very healthy relationship and you both can be yourselves!

#obey me #obey me!#obey me swd #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #om! levi #obey me matchup

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