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hongism · 9 months

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mists of celeste ➻ 50

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut ➻ word count: 17.1k ➻ rating: M ➻ warnings: language ➻ summary: Months into your stay aboard The Horizon, it becomes apparent that things are not as cut and dry as you thought, and that you might have bitten off more than you could chew with this crew.

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──────────── act seven ➻ part two

The transport can barely hold the entirety of your crew as it stands now — your extra guests included — and it makes for a rather cramped setting. Part of that feeling could be due to how San stands close to you still, his hand overlapping yours on the handle hanging down from the ceiling of the vehicle as you stick to the edges where it gives you a clear view out the windows. Hongjoong’s figure lingers in your peripherals, seated not far from where you’ve parked yourself, but as the rest of the crew fidgets to make themselves comfortable, San shifts to block your line of sight with the captain. You turn to the right and look across the transport. Mirroring you on the opposite end stands both Berserkers, but it’s Mingi who you make direct eye contact with. In a movement that’s invisible to all but prying eyes, he shakes his head every so slightly left and right.

It’s a pointless gesture, as you had already settled to resign yourself to the fate Hongjoong laid out for you in this mission. Maybe he’s simply warning you against fighting back again. Maybe he’s answering some unknown question you haven’t even thought to ask yet. He knows more than he lets on, that much is true, and now you know it for certain given his presence at the pinnacle of your humiliation thus far.

You’ve been asking yourself what your defiance is for a great many times since sharing that conversation with him, however, for better or for worse. The answer is always the same anyway.

The transport lurches as it moves off the dock. Far below, the waters running through the gorge glisten with the sunshine reflecting off its surface. Though a vibrant bright green, the color appears more milky than it is clear even at this distance, and thick tendrils of fog paint the darker corners of the base of the gorge. A far cry from the beauty you saw waiting across the dock, what lies below doesn’t look at all inviting.

Beside you, San is picking at a loose thread on his form-fitting top, and you lightly swat his hand away from the spot before he pulls a hole in the fabric.

“Hey,” he murmurs just quietly enough to avoid prying ears.

“Hey,” you echo back. Silently, you push your body closer to his until you’re close enough to feel his breath on your skin.

“Nervous?”

“A bit.”

San presses his cheek against the side of your head.

“Just like any other mission. You’ve got this.”

“One without you. And Seonghwa.”

San tuts gently as he leans further down to your ear. “But with Jongho and Mingi.” He passes you as reassuring a smile as he can manage, and it does little to ease the bundle of nerves coiling in your gut. Your brief time in the open air on this planet was enough to make your skin crawl and itch. “I would go if I could,” he continues, and his gaze flits like he wants to look back over his shoulder at his captain but thinks better of it at the last second.

The barge lurches to a halt, and you lay a hand against San’s jacket to keep yourself steady when your body threatens to throw you backward. He covers your fingers with his own, remaining that way until everyone has filed out of the transport. A man stands beside the doors, though he isn’t much of a friendly face with the way a scowl seems to be permanently etched into his features. He shoves something into your hands and then into San’s before slapping the side of the transport to signal for the doors to shut.

“Remember protocol unless you’re looking to be outta your damn minds!” he yells across the small crowd that forms your crew. One glance down shows you that he’s handed you a gas mask, and everyone around you bears a matching one. He wears one similar, bound around his neck with a clasp that must be like the one attached to the back of yours. San silently takes it from your grasp and brings it up and around your neck — a crude echo of a romantic gesture one might do with a real necklace. “Masks up when the church bell rings three times at night, no later than that. Kid’ll need a smaller one from one of the stalls in the market, so be sure to get ‘im one before nightfall. As for where you stay at night, be sure to find some reputable spot with air filters. Otherwise, you’ll be wanting to wear them masks while you sleep too.”

“Gas masks and air filters…” you mutter as you thumb over the item now attached to your neck. “What’s up with this place?” San hums and steps to your side. He falls into step alongside you, and in that same moment, Yeosang deigns to turn where he stands and look you over.

“Natural hallucinogens in the air. They come up from the water below. When the sun is out, you will be unaffected because the heat from the sunlight prevents the toxins from spreading beyond the water so much, but once the sun sets, it becomes potent enough to enter your bloodstream and settle in your system. At that point, you wouldn’t be able to tell reality from whatever fantasy your mind conjures up for you.”

Your fingers tighten around the gas mask.

"What a lovely vacation spot for us then," San grumbles.

However, despite that inherent danger now looming over your head, the town ahead is quite visually stunning, and its intrigue only grows as you walk into the streets alongside the crew. Hongjoong, of course, hangs near the front as both your captain and the one who knows where you're all headed. Jongho and Yunho drift back to where you and San walk close enough to touch hands, but neither one of you makes the move to do so. It's sharply contrasted to how Wooyoung walks beside Yeosang a few steps away, with such little space between them that their shoulders overlap and Wooyoung's feet threaten to collide with Yeosang's at every step. Cute, in a sense, and a welcome sight given the falling out you had witnessed some time ago now, but it still lingers in your memory every time you look at them interacting. Off to your right, Mingi has found a place beside Luca, and on the other side stand the other three recent additions to your crew. It only leaves one unaccounted for, but the soft sounds of footsteps behind you give you a clear enough idea as to where Seonghwa is.

You've been refused the pleasure of sensing his emotions since your more explosive fight. Though you haven't done the same to him in return; if anything, you hope that he can feel the sharp edges of your anger each time you look at him.

You must be scowling now at the mere thought of the man because San’s fingers dance across your knuckles before securing his index finger around your pinky — a display of affection discreet enough to hide from prying eyes.

“I don’t like the vibes of this place,” Yunho mutters from a few steps ahead of you. He coughs as you pass by a pillared torch that burns purple flames and opaque smoke across the streets. Given their multitude on either side of the cobbled roads, you’d make the safe assumption that these are meant to be street lamps to light the streets, minus the electricity, and it would make a good amount of sense for the atmosphere to shift the color of the flames in some manner. Though there hardly seems any need for the lights when you were so adamantly warned against setting foot outside after dark, unless the natives ignore such warnings for themselves.

“This is where we’ll be staying for the duration of our stay here!” Hongjoong’s voice booms back across the group, and when he turns around to face his crew, your eyes glance across each other for a split second before they fall to the man behind you. “You’re welcome to go in and make yourselves comfortable, or you can explore the city as you see fit. Everyone stay connected over the comms channel and be indoors by dark.”

The group disperses for the most part, though you stay close to San’s side, content to follow him instead of deciding what to do yourself. The building is nice enough: simple in its design and very minimal in terms of windows, but you suppose that makes sense given what you’ve been told of this place thus far. It blends in with the other buildings on the street with its dark brown wood and ivory trim, and the lanterns that hang from the overhang of the roof bear the same purple-hued flames that the streetlamps do. It does make everything bear a sort of ominous atmosphere to a certain extent — it would be far more unsettling in the dark, as most things are — but a promised safe haven is simply that: a safe haven.

“You—” Hongjoong lunges for Yunho’s arm as the man tries to turn into the hostel “—keep close to me. Normies are particularly desired in places like these.”

As Seonghwa steps around you to head for the doors, his glare on the back of Yunho’s head is as apparent as it is heavy. Yunho himself is equally caught off guard as he is confused, but he receives no further explanation beyond that simple ominous statement.

“I’ll get everything sorted and take care of the payments,” he says to the captain, earning nothing more than a firm nod and a wave of Hongjoong’s free hand. His gaze sticks even when Hongjoong’s does not. While the only witnesses to the affront are you and San, it's still uncomfortable to a high degree. It doesn't continue for much longer at least, as the man finally steps through the door to the hostel and leaves the rest of you in silence. Your gaze drifts over to view San’s side profile. He glances down to look at you in return, eyes turning to pretty crescents, and you loop your hand around his elbow.

"I imagine this won't be a stress-free trip as we wish it to be," he whispers, pulling you closer to his body as you start to follow behind Hongjoong and Yunho. You can’t respond right away. The pair ahead of you pulls your focus for a moment, in a stance so similar to your own with San that it causes realization to dawn on you.

“We’re okay, right?” you ask out of the blue. For a moment you think San hasn’t heard you, but he very clearly has based on how stiff his expression becomes. Lie to me. I’m so desperate for your lies.

“Yeah,” he nods, “we are.” It tastes sweet and feels heavy on your skin.

“You know, Y/n, it was San who recommended that you have an important role in this mission.” Hongjoong’s voice slices through you at a diagonal, hunting the spot where it will hurt the most like it’s for sport, and his timing is so apt that you believe he’s heard the words exchanged behind him. You don’t give him the pleasure of looking in his direction. San lifts his free hand to lay it over the one you have secured around his elbow like he fears you letting go but your grip is still firm. Nails dig into his exposed skin. You know it will leave a mark.

San’s face is ripped to shreds with a mixture of regret and sympathy. His expression is too genuine for you to find any deception in it.

“I didn’t think he would take it seriously, I… in retrospect, I must look fucking stupid because I thought that he would take both of us on the mission.” San’s eyes drop to the ground. “I asked to go. I wasn’t expecting him to choose Yunho over me.”

Again, Hongjoong pushes himself into a conversation not meant for him.

“San isn’t fully healed to the point of mission clearance. Both of our resident doctors said as much, for differing reasons.” You wish that the claws he’s dug deep beneath San’s skin to twist around his heart and make him do as he pleases were not so tightly wound. You wish you could know with certainty that removing them would not kill San in the process. You wish you could know that the blood seeping from San’s chest in the aftermath would not be on your hands.

None of those things are certain or doomed to change, however, and you must remain firmly in place where you are with San and hope for an outcome other than agony by his side.

The captain reaches down between his body and Yunho’s, and you watch the man lace his fingers through Yunho’s in a way that almost seems natural enough to believe that it’s a regular occurrence. Nothing more than an attempt to keep the man by his side, however, and you turn your chin away from the sight partly because you feel like you’re encroaching.

“Go on and pick out whatever you need,” Hongjoong’s voice sounds far sweeter than you know the man to be, with a sort of melodic lull to how he speaks that makes your skin itch. This sort of intimacy is unnatural for him. You cannot tell whether it’s genuine or not either. The tips of Yunho’s ears are stained red; you can see as much from where you stand despite the man’s efforts to keep his head firmly forward. “Do you want me to get you anything nice while we’re here?”

“It’s fine.” His tone is as stiff as he is, yet his hand clings to Hongjoong’s like the other man will let go at any second and he can’t bear the thought of such a thing happening. “We just need to restock some medicines, and I want to see what they have in the way of ingredients. I imagine they’ve got lots of local stuff I wouldn’t be able to get anywhere else. It would be nice to try some new stuff. Do you think there’s an apothecary nearby? Having some options other than pills would be good… the locals ought to have some recipes I can’t get anywhere else. Oh, and painkillers! I’m running low, I could have sworn I had a few extra bottles in stock—”

“You mentioned you had forgotten to restock them last week.”

“Ah, did I?” Yunho finally dares to glance down at the man walking alongside him. Despite the clear question in his tone, what you can see of his expression from his side profile does not match that — because what do a sharp stare and taut frown have in common with confusion?

“You’ve been frazzled lately; it’s understandable.” Hongjoong turns to look up at him in return, and a smile that’s soft around the edges pulls at the corners of his lips. His free hand moves up to brush down the strays in Yunho’s bangs. “Let’s pick up some more just in case you're unsure, yeah?”

“Do you wanna sneak away on our own?” San’s voice comes from close to your ear, closer than you expect it to be, and you inhale sharply as your gaze tears off the discomforting scene unfolding feet ahead of you. He’s already pulling you away before you even offer up a few nods in response, and if Hongjoong or Yunho notices your departure, neither one comments on it. You quickly discover, however, that you are not alone in your discomfort as San speaks again under his breath. “They weren’t speaking at all days ago and now he acts all domestic like that with Yunho as though nothing happened… it’s infuriating to watch.”

“Not at all surprising though, is it?” your words come out through a mutter. You expect some level of retaliation from San given how staunchly he’s defended Hongjoong to you in the past, but now he’s quiet. “Love isn’t easy.”

“Love’s not, but what he does is.”

What he does to Yunho and Seonghwa both — those things should not be considered love to any degree, but you aren’t sure how a man such as Hongjoong shows love. If he feels it at all, that is.

"I'm not sure there's a single one of us who has done it perfectly, I suppose," San continues after a breath of hesitation. "But we can try. To mend the wounds we may cause by accident along the way, and to meet others halfway. Learn how best to love." He doesn't look at you directly but the words are spoken into your heart and soul. You cling to his arm tighter still.

Is this real or am I lying with a lion intent on devouring me for the sake of another?

San gives you his love, and you do not doubt that one bit — those around him have vouched for his fragile heart and kindness far too much for you to doubt him to that degree. There is simply a line in the sand you cannot decipher, where San’s love intersects with Hongjoong’s influence over him. You don't wish to think of these things as of now, however. This trip is meant to be a vacation to some degree, even though you're tasked with other things, and you want to take a vacation from thinking about your captain and his manipulative bullshit as well.

“Did you do this sort of thing often? Before I joined the crew, I mean.” San resituates your hand so that it now sits encased in his, and he pulls it down to dangle between your bodies. The action feels natural, coming with an inherent comfort that makes your heart pulse with emotion.

“From time to time here and there. I wouldn’t say we made a habit of it by any means, but it was a whole lot harder to take trips like this when the crew was more full.”

“Not even after the crew got smaller?”

“Oh, we had a few! But Hongjoong was—” San pauses and his face contorts a little before he continues “—working himself to an early grave at that point. Early on, we took a small trip when it was just Jongho and me on the crew. Hongjoong was doing business, of course, and Seonghwa was still in the phases of not letting him go off anywhere alone, so Jongho and I got to have something of a break.” The memory must be a rather fond one given how wide the smile that pulls at his lips is. “After Hongjoong discovered Jongho in the cargo bay, he changed course to Yuki and we stopped at Rohtah for a short while. Mostly for Captain to find some fresh faces for the crew, so I had to be at his beck and call when necessary. Jongho and I got to bond quite a bit during that trip though so it was… really nice. One of the most pleasant memories I have of being with the crew. At least until Yunho came along! He made the atmosphere so much livelier once he came along, and we started to do some recreational stuff on the ship instead of saving it for when we were planetside. Things we still do now like cards and games, and Jongho got a guitar at one of our stops so we started having music nights and — and everyone would be there, and Hongjoong was there and he would actually be there with us. Not in the corner of the room doing that thing he does where he just stares at us like we’re part of a different world that he can’t join in on.”

San’s rambling is endearing, complete with a sort of child-like excitement that makes his face light up, and you wish desperately that you could share in those happy memories of his with the same joy that he seems to be experiencing at present. Melancholy cuts through it with a jagged edge too, however, making the smile break before it reaches his eyes. The nights where the whole crew partakes in games and fun are so few and far between that they seem distant, and you’ve only seen Jongho pull the guitar from his room on a handful of occasions when you’ve occupied space in the ship for a decently long amount of time now.

“It was inevitable,” San continues just as you’re parting your lips to offer him some kind of comfort, “in many ways. The crew grew too large to keep that atmosphere. We didn’t even have rooms to ourselves at the height of the Scourge’s reign of terror over the starry skies; I shared with Jongho back then, and Yunho before that for a while. The ship was crowded as hell to the point where you couldn’t so much as walk outside the bathroom in your own room without seeing another person there, but it felt so lived in.” You’ve lost sight of Hongjoong and Yunho at this point, and as you continue to walk further into the city, the streets are filling out with the hustle and bustle of locals going about their days. “The Horizon was rarely quiet back then, and I can’t imagine how that impacted our Berserkers, even the several we had outside Jongho and Mingi. It was jarring going from that to… what was virtually silence in the halls.”

“Do you miss those days?” you ask. San’s eyes wander from stall to stall, occasionally searching the doors and signs hanging from buildings along the way.

“Yes and no. I so preferred it when the crew was small and close-knit the way it was before. And even though it’s small now…” Gaze becoming distant, San slows to a halt in the midst of the cobbled street. You don’t push him to keep moving and instead just pull yourself next to him without a word. “Someone ruined that peace we had before. There are still nights where I lie awake, incapable of even closing my eyes because I wish so badly that I had snapped his neck when I had the chance, even if it risked my captain’s hatred and punishment. I wish I hadn’t been a weapon then so that I could’ve acted on my own accord, to do what needed to be done and spared everyone the horror that followed. But that’s not how the universe wanted it to play out, I suppose.”

“Why did Hongjoong not kill that man?” you inquire under your breath, barely looking over at San out of the corner of your eye. He seems all too eager to kill me if I so much as breathe in his direction the wrong way. How could he not kill someone who truly betrayed him so deeply?

“That’s a question for him, not me.” San’s lips twitch in a sorry attempt at a smile. “I have wondered the very same myself for a long time though, so you aren’t alone in your wonder. Come on, I saw a stall over on this side that I wanted a closer look at.” You find some reassurance in the knowledge that San is as unaware as you are, for once, but that creeping thought makes you feel worse about yourself so you push it to the side and let San guide you over to one of the street vendors.

“Come to look at my wares, young ones?” An elderly woman greets you with creased eyes and a smile that brings wisened lines out of her face. “I have all sorts of honeymoon jewelry if that’s what you’re looking for!”

You glance over at San in a panic, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips and you can’t fight it nor can you pinpoint where it comes from to begin with. He’s biting back a grin himself, one that’s a tad more reserved than your own, though his gaze doesn’t fall away from the lady’s for a second.

“Please, show me your favorite pieces. We aren’t married but I would like to find something nice for my partner nonetheless.”

“Not married yet, I see, I see. There’s still time yet! Our little city here is quite the romantic getaway if you know the right places to look, and if you’re up for a little adventure.” You look up from the display of jewelry before you only to make direct eye contact with the woman from across the stand, and she passes you a more than a little obvious wink that makes you exhale what can only be described as a pained laugh. Without thinking too deeply about it, your hand drifts towards a set of earrings on the display case.

"Do you like those?" San asks, eyes flitting over to watch your movements closely. You lay your hand flat against the glass as you lean forward a hair and take a closer look at them. Simple, silver, no gems adorning them, and clearly hand-twisted metal that winds itself into the shape of a curved seven. One of the two has a chain attached to it, short but with a cylindrical shape dangling downwards.

"They're pretty," you murmur before withdrawing your hand and smiling at the woman.

"These are a special set, yes," she hums, "the chime here is a charm of protection." She opens the case and lifts one of the cuffs out, showing off the piece in its full glory with the chime tinkling as she moves it. The sound isn't obnoxious, more like a softer version of the windchimes you saw outside some of the buildings on your walk, and the metal is so polished that you can see your distorted reflection in it. "It is meant to ward off foul intentions and spirits if blessed by a loved one. A very charming piece indeed."

"Ah…" comes your quiet noise of acknowledgment, and the woman reaches out to lift your hand with her own, exposing your palm to the sky as she sets the piece there and nods towards you. You understand the implication of her action, and if you were a bit more bold in that area of things, you would ask San to give his blessing with no shame. It shouldn't be difficult for you either considering how the old woman has already clocked the two of you as a couple, but it feels far too intimate to ask San to do something like that in front of her. Hell, you don't even know if he believes in such acts or if you do yourself really. Would it be too much to ask from him or—

San's hand comes across your vision and covers your palm briefly, and when he pulls away the piece of jewelry is gone from your hand. He clasps his hands together in front of him and lifts them to his face, lips brushing against his thumb as he mouths unknown words against it. In a way, he seems like a man praying before an altar. When his eyes snap back open, he unfolds his hands and presses a kiss to the earring.

"There." San's focus turns to you in that moment, and your eyes meet, and there's a second in which your heart clenches so tightly in your chest that it burns. Your chest aches, eyes stinging from the sudden onset of emotion you see in San’s gaze, and you can do nothing but stand completely still. "Does it go this way?"

You get a moment to breathe again when he diverts his attention back to the shopkeeper so that she can show him which side to put the piece on. Yet when he comes back to you, his hand is reaching up to move the hair around your right ear out of the way, and you can't keep from clasping your fingers around his forearm just to secure yourself to the man in some way. His fingers are hot against your skin (or maybe your ears are flaming with embarrassment) but the metal is blessedly cool as he secures it in its proper place.

"Is it comfortable?" he inquires through the same cat-like grin you recall him wearing the first time you laid eyes on each other. The memory hits you out of nowhere, flashing before your eyes in a split second. Here you are all this time later, in a position and a place you never imagined you would find yourself in, and there's so much love in you as he moves your hands together so that you can cling to him better.

"Yes, it's perfect," you reply. Love blooms so beautifully before your eyes and in your chest as he tucks his chin to his chest and hides glowing cheeks and red-tinged ears.

Turning back to the elderly lady, you find her waiting with the other cuff in hand, and you take it from her with a quiet word of gratitude.

"I'd like these two pieces as well, please," San requests, though you can't see what he's pointing to clearly, and your heart won't calm down enough to let your thoughts return to normal coherence. So, you leave it be and busy yourself with tucking the second cuff around your other ear on your own while San collects his items and pays the woman with his credit chip. He tucks everything into his pocket once she hands them over, and she sends the two of you off with an excited wave.

“I hope all goes well for the two of you. May the spirits watch over you.”

“Thank you, may the spirits watch over you.” San bows his head at her before the two of you walk away. He tilts his head towards yours, whispering as close to your ear as he can get without knocking your heads together. “This city is very firm in spirituality and religion. When I looked at a map with all the buildings shown, I found at least six churches in a fairly small radius. But the spirit shops can be found practically on every street corner depending on what road you’re on. On our walk into the city, I heard almost every native say that phrase in farewell to those they were talking with, so it must be something customary regardless of belief.”

You reach up to toy with the chime hanging from your ear.

“Is that why you blessed this then?”

“Maybe I… an added layer of protection never hurts, especially in our line of work. Even if something small, even if the words and prayers of a nonbeliever are not enough to be a suitable blessing, it at least has my heart behind it. I wish for your safety every night and your happiness every morning anyway, so what’s the harm in hoping this will do the same?”

“San.”

He reaches around your side and pinches your waist between his fingers, a laugh on his lips that echoes against the soft tinkling of wind chimes in the air.

“Come, let’s keep wandering around before we’re called back to our captain’s side.”

────────────

Evening comes quickly, and with it something you dread. The slight consolation you have is that you’re less and less apprehensive with each meeting you have with the therapist-psychologist-psychiatrist medley that is Minho, but it doesn’t keep you from fidgeting in the seat you find yourself in now. Seated outside, the sun has yet to dip under the edge of the mountain range so you can still enjoy the outdoor air some without fear of insanity or whatever else night may bring. Said doctor sits near you, mulling over a mug of what seems to be coffee based on the aroma hanging about your small shared table, and he too watches the edge of the mountains.

“What’s been on your mind recently?”

Despite anticipating such a question, you let out a noise akin to a ‘hm’ and let silence pull back over you.

“A lot and nothing at all, at the same time. And you?”

Minho grins but it’s clear that he does not appreciate your attempt at a joke. “I’m enjoying fresh air and nature that is not confined to a rocky and putrid desert. Our last little planetside visit was far from pleasant vacationing scenery, no?”

“Unless one enjoys freezing winds and bland landscapes, but yes, I’ll agree with you on that.”

The doctor clears his throat around a mouthful of coffee, and you know it’s as subtle as he’s going to be about prompting you to shift the subject to other things. Minho is nothing if not a patient man, however, for better or for worse. You have no way out here, and he is not going to prompt you for a response so your only option here is to answer him.

“I have been having a hard time understanding some people on the crew. Their motives and intentions with me — that sort of thing,” you admit while squinting at the table. In your peripheral, you catch Minho’s glance and continue speaking before he can even begin to ask you to elaborate. “It’s hard to find the line between where they’re being genuine and where they’re trying to get something out of me. I did try to solve the problem on my own. I spoke to someone about it, and yet that led to a rabbit hole and now I find myself doubting much of what I thought to be true. That line of thought only makes me wonder further though. I didn’t doubt so much before. Now I can’t determine whether I was blissfully in the dark or if I’m being led to believe things that are untrue.”

You jerk your chin to the left and stare your companion down, hoping that he’ll understand you’re done venting for the time being. He raises his brows at you over the edge of his mug without ceasing his movements, and after what seems to be a purposefully drawn-out sip, he leans back in his chair and rests the mug on his thigh.

“Interpersonal relationships are difficult by nature. When there are two people close to you saying things that are at odds with each other, it becomes harder. How does one decide who is telling the truth? Are they perhaps both telling some portion of the truth? If you lean more towards one side then does that make you biased? Does it mean you care for one more than the other? Sometimes we fear how our reactions will affect relationships more than what the truth truly is.”

“I do trust one more than the other,” you add through a slight shake of your head. Minho jolts forward a little with an inhale as his lips part to speak again.

“I anticipate that you will not want to use actual names when discussing this, so how about we use hypothetical names in place of them?”

“I’m certain you already know,” you counter in the same breath.

He matches your tone as it drops to a whisper. “What I know or don’t know is not important. This is for your comfort. If bringing their names into this makes you feel uncomfortable or as though you are blaming them, then using fake names can mitigate those feelings. Call them anything — day, night, tree, rock, stone, fuckass and shithead even — whatever you please.” His words have their intended effect in making you let out a breathy laugh.

“I trust… Rock more than I trust Stone.” That goes without saying really because you have known San (or Rock rather) far longer than you’ve known Nightingale. “But Rock doesn’t always answer my questions and often speaks around my questions in such a way that it makes me have doubts. I don’t need him to tell me everything, of course, and I do trust him more than Stone by a landslide. It’s just that what Stone said threw me off.”

“Why are you so quick to take Stone for his word if you trust Rock more?”

“Because it was so eerily close to reality that I was frightened.”

“Did you ask if Stone knew about your reality? Or ask Rock if he spoke about it with Stone before your conversation?”

“I — I didn’t even think to.” Minho is watching your face very carefully, a wry smile planted on his lips. “I’ll do so though.”

“That might be worth a try,” he answers in the same kind tone as always. “Start there, and if the results are not enough to ease your concerns, then we can revisit the conversation at another time.”

“I like that idea.”

“Do you feel more comfortable speaking with me these days, Y/n?”

“I do,” you say, though Minho hardly looks convinced by your answer. “I really do. It’s far easier to have a second voice to offer an opinion. Even if the topics still do make me uncomfortable.”

“Well, that feeling is natural. Those who find it easy to disclose the deepest and darkest parts of themselves to others are often either unaware of their flaws or hiding some pain. We as humans tend to realize what things might be perceived as bad or ugly to others, and thus there is some extent of shame surrounding talking about those things. Even if the perceptions come from stigma.”

“I wouldn’t say I fear your judgment necessarily.”

“Then, shall we try something a bit different today?” Minho’s words are accompanied by the unwelcome noise of his chair scraping against cobbles, and you twist at the waist to follow him with your gaze as he moves away from the table. “Would you be open to laying down over here on your back?” He gestures down towards a bench not far away, one close to the tree that the whole courtyard is centered around, and without verbal response, you move to do as asked.

There’s no need to bother with asking what he wants you to do this for; that question would result in a snarky ‘you’ll see’ or a quick ‘is that a no then’. So, you seat yourself on the bench and lay flat against the cool stone until all you can see are the branches of the tree and bits of darkening sky over your head.

“Close your eyes. I want you to envision your parents first.” Minho’s voice moves around your head, from ear to ear. You see nothing behind your eyelids though, not even a wisp of an idea of the people who are supposed to be so fundamental and crucial in a person’s memories. “I’m going to ask you a series of questions. There’s no need to answer them verbally to me but try to answer them to yourself to the best of your ability. Did you know your parents? What did they look like? What role did they have in your life? What were they like as parents? As people?”

The sole memory you have of them is nothing more than figments and knowledge that was passed onto you by another.

“Happy birthday, my darling. I can hardly believe you’re seven already!” The first voice to touch our ears is deep enough to be that of a man, and the second comes out more feminine and has a certain warmth to it that catches you off-guard.

“Dear, they’re waiting outside.”

“Just… give me but a moment with our child, Marina. They won’t die if I take a few minutes to celebrate our daughter’s day.”

Your father at the very least seemed to love you. Perhaps your mother did as well, in some odd and convoluted way.

“If you can’t recall them well, then a childhood friend? What of them?”

Wooyoung is the most obvious answer to that question, though only because you are aware that you should remember him from your childhood. That remains just as hazy, however, with nothing more than tiny fragments that you have been trying hard to piece together for some time now. He was your childhood friend. Bread boy. Tsukio. The boy with lavender hair who reached for your hand in unending waters time and time again before he could finally reach you.

“Now yourself? Who were you as a child, Y/n? What games did you play? What did you wish to be when you grew up and what did you become? What led you to join the military, pushed you to forget everything and start over?” Minho’s questions are coming too rapidly now for you to keep up with, and you let a noise of frustration slip from your lips as you try to find the answers to everything in your mind. “It’s okay to get frustrated and annoyed. That’s part of the process. But don’t give up quite yet.” His voice comes to a standstill somewhere behind your head, but it still sounds somewhat far and away. “Your identity changed at a certain point, did it not? When you were fourteen years old and decided to take that serum to forget everything that had happened to you before. Who were you in the military?” A killer. “What was your rank, your position, your duty, your unit — what was your purpose?” To kill. “Who were you and what did you become?”

“The Ghost of Eros,” you say aloud without thinking. Something touches your shoulder without warning and every muscle in your body tenses at the sudden breach of focus. Your eyes snap open in hopes of finding the offending touch, but instead, you make eye contact with Minho, who now crouches beside the bench near your head with a very firm and unnerving stare settled on you.

“Who were you before joining the Scourge’s crew?”

Frustration creeps in a second time because you don’t get it. Minho is trying to make a point with all of this, and you still don’t understand what exactly he’s trying to convey to you.

“The Ghost of Eros.”

“And who are you now?”

You sit up, forcing his hand to fall away from your shoulder, and all you can do for several seconds is stare at your lap while shaking your head.

“I’m… it hasn’t changed? I’m still as I was.” Your eyes seek to find Minho once again for answers. He smiles back at you.

“Exactly. You are still the Ghost of Eros, but you need to let yourself believe that again. Your strength didn’t go away, just as you told me that your skills are still with you. Your willpower, intelligence, the things that brought you out of that place you were in — those are skills just the same, and they have not gone away. So you need to stop believing that they have.”

“I-I don’t — what are you trying to get at?” His words seem so intentional and pointed that it makes your head spin somewhat. What does he know that you don’t?

“You are equipped to withstand any trial set before you. Yet when we have these discussions, I find a deep-rooted sense of self-doubt in you. Whether that comes from the confusion of not wholly knowing who you are or from the influence of external forces, it is a hard thing to uproot and remove. I cannot give you a shovel and tell you to dig it out, but I can give you the means to break it down so that it will not grow further. I can remind you that you already have the tools needed to do so if you remember where to look.” Minho sits down in the space behind your back, and you sling your legs to the side so that you can sit parallel to him before the tree ahead of you. “There was a time when your name was second only to the Scourge’s in bars and amongst pirate crews. Is that legacy meant to play second fiddle to his? Is that what you desire? Some parts of you must not want that because you resist authority so heavily. You have forgotten that name and in turn, let him forget it as well. I did not see you cave when faced with the ghosts of your past. You did not cave to a king you perceived to be a tyrant. You have pulled yourself away from so many things, wearing your name as a mantle that represents who you are and what you are capable of. Why do you hesitate to remind your sole competition of the same?”

Minho stares ahead at the tree yet you look to the ground with fingers clenched hard around the edge of the bench. You recall the first time you laid eyes on Hongjoong in the flesh, outside of wanted posters and scant dossiers that did nothing to fully encapsulate the man who is the Scourge of the Black Sea. Even back then, he had looked past you as though you were nothing to him, yet in return, you did not find yourself afraid of him at all. Have you become afraid of him now? Why?

“I wish to be acknowledged as that,” you state resolutely. “Someone strong and fearsome and on his level. He doesn’t treat me like I’m the Ghost of Eros still. I-I want him to.”

Minho hums. “It would be easier to fall in line, would it not?”

Ask yourself what your defiance is really for.

You realize the answer to that question now. Mingi laid down his mantle as the Brute of Kebos for a multitude of reasons, and you can understand now why he views defiance to be a shoddy decision. What he had before was nothing pretty or desirable. The same could be said of your past as well, but you have never desired to set your mantle aside and become something small and diminishable on the Scourge’s crew. A weapon is only as good as the one wielding it, and Hongjoong frankly does not wield you and your abilities as he should.

“It would…”

“With its feet tied and wings clipped, what hope does a caged bird have?” Minho pats your knee before standing up. From where you sit, you can just barely glimpse at the ugly brand sitting on the back of his neck, crude scars and all. “It can still carve its way out with its beak, no? Do not let yourself be buried by those with the intent to put you beneath them. Be strong.” He leaves you with that, alone on the bench in the courtyard before a blooming tree whose roots stretch and pull at the stone meant to cover it.

For the first time, someone is telling you to fight, and fight, you most certainly will.

There’s a good amount of time where you sit in the same place without moving because the conversation has left your head a bit fuzzy. The only reason you don’t linger any longer in the courtyard is because the sun is continuing to dip closer to the horizon and you are not eager to find out what the nightlife is like.

The air clings to your skin a bit when you step through the door, not too different from the humidity outside, but the warmth is welcome in a different way. Music hits your ears at the same time, and you find yourself drifting toward the source of the noise out of sheer curiosity. The sight you find unfolding before you brings pause to your step, though only briefly because your feet are once again compelled to move and push you forwards.

Jongho is the first one you see, sitting on the edge of a couch with a guitar of some sort in his hands — one that must be local to Gorgon due to its foreign appearance. Yeosang sits nearby, close to the couch on some sort of box that he taps the flats of his hands against, and his rhythm matches Jongho’s so perfectly that you’d be hard-pressed to believe that they’ve never done this before. The table that had been set in front of the couch has been dragged to the side to make more space available, and right now Wooyoung occupies that space with Mingi, hands gently folded around Mingi’s forearms like he’s trying to both steady and guide the man at once. You only catch sight of a fifth and final person once you approach the back of a loveseat, and it’s San who sits just barely hidden from sight there. Your arrival brings his attention upwards to you, and you look at each other upside-down. Perhaps it’s the mood in the air, but you allow yourself to indulge a bit here and now, leaning over the back of the sofa to lay a kiss against San’s forehead as he reaches upwards for you. Hands slotting together, he clings to you while you round the loveseat fully and sink down onto the cushion beside him.

“Y/n, Y/n, you have to join in!” Wooyoung laughs as he pulls Mingi around in a circle, eyes not lingering on you for more than a second. Every bit of skin that’s visible on the man is flushed, and the balls of his cheeks are so bright and round that you can’t help but smile just seeing the evident joy on his features. He takes the gesture as an invitation. He’s giggling as he moves Mingi over to the couch where Jongho’s perched before flitting over to you in the blink of an eye. You barely have time to let go of San’s hand before Wooyoung is tugging you up from the loveseat.

“Wait—”

“Indulge me just a little tonight, please?”

Your protest dies in the back of your throat and falls on deaf ears. You wish you had put up more of a fight moments later when Wooyoung starts pulling you into a rather fast-paced and intricate set of footsteps that you can hardly keep up with without trampling his toes every beat or so. Yet — Wooyoung is laughing and happy and throwing his head back so far that the sound of his laughter resonates with the music Jongho and Yeosang are creating. This fragile peace hangs by the thinnest of threads, tied into small knots, and you’re mesmerized by the joy radiating off Wooyoung in waves. It’s not just you either: Yeosang’s eyes follow his lover with every slight shift in muscle, so rapt in his attention yet still not missing a beat as he continues to drum his hands against the box beneath him. Wooyoung spins you out in San’s direction, hand squeezing hard around yours so that you don’t tumble, and in that split second, you make eye contact with your own lover.

It startles you to see the expression on his face. He looks to be in utter awe of what’s unfolding before him, even though you’re certain it’s a mess on your end, yet there’s also a faraway gleam to his gaze that makes you realize he’s not wholly here in this moment with the rest of you. You want to ask what’s on his mind, to know what he’s seeing in his head right now, or what memories are replaying themselves to him if that’s what it is. It’s hardly the time or place for such things, however.

Wooyoung twirls you back into his arms, hands sliding down to secure at your waist. The metal hanging from his neck is a stark contrast to the warmth of his skin and breath as he buries his face into the crook of your shoulder. You aren’t prepared to brace his weight and stumble back over your feet with Wooyoung still clinging tightly to you until you hit the edge of the loveseat. San’s hand juts out to catch you when the two of you tumble to the cushions. Wooyoung is laughing the whole time, hot on your neck, and he sits up on one knee as though nothing happened.

“Change the song!” he requests, returning to his post at the center of the rug. San’s hand drifts towards yours but he only takes hold of your fingers rather than your whole hand as he usually does. You jolt upon looking over at him, solely because there’s another body behind the loveseat and a face pressed between yours and San’s that you were not expecting to see. It’s Yunho who fills the space between your face and your lover’s — mostly recognizable through his side profile and also his blond hair that’s beginning to grow in dark at the roots. He’s clearly fresh out of the shower if his damp hair is any indication of such along with the faint scent of something minty radiating off of him.

“What are we watching?” he asks, bringing his elbows up to rest on the back of the couch.

“Wooyoung is putting on a show for us,” San hums in response, and his fingers curl around your index finger. “You just barely missed Y/n’s ever-so-graceful dance moves too!”

“Oh, stop,” comes your whine as embarrassment washes over you with San’s confirmation that it was indeed a very messy ordeal. Yunho laughs, head pulling up to watch Wooyoung’s new performance. The music shifts, first with Jongho then with Yeosang changing his rhythm to follow along with the Berserker on the box drum. Wooyoung’s eyes flutter shut, and the music takes hold of him like a spell has been cast on his body. There’s a certain delicate nature to his movements now that is far different than how he danced with Mingi and in turn you. The collar around his neck drags up and down against his skin with each twist of his body, yet his happiness persists even with what must be an agonizing discomfort. If not for his upbringing and what you know of his youth, you would imagine he made a living out of this at some point in his life. He has both the grace and the appearance of a dancer, between his lithe figure and his pretty features, and it wouldn’t be impossible to believe that there are many people who would pay a great deal to see him perform. Here you sit, surrounded by crewmates and friends, watching the scene unfold without a credit spent. Luck comes to mind because it does feel something like a blessing to experience this in such a joyful atmosphere. Wooyoung’s voice rises into the mix alongside Jongho’s, though a tad more breathy than the latter’s due to the fluid movements he’s trying to maintain while singing.

“Pardon, but the master asked that I bring freshly brewed tea for our guests. Mushroom tea, a local specialty. Please enjoy your stay here with us.” You and San both take the teacups handed to you on a silver platter by the young woman who has approached the loveseat. Yunho is the only one to refuse it yet gratitude still pours from his lips nonetheless, and the lady bows her head. She moves over to Mingi next, careful not to disturb the rest who are bringing the merry festivities to the room.

The tea is close to scalding but just shy of it so you can sip comfortably from the top while watching Wooyoung’s performance continue to unfold. The words of the song are solemn in comparison to how upbeat the music itself sounds, even down to the smile pulling at Wooyoung’s lips while he sings along. You hardly need to be a genius to figure out the meaning of it — it’s a tried and true farewell song, one saying goodbye to times past and people no longer present, sung with a dissonant joy that makes the tea taste bitter on your tongue.

Yunho inches out of your peripherals, and you angle your head in his direction only to catch him walking towards the stairs without a word. At first, you wonder if the song is what compelled him to leave or perhaps he simply wishes to retire for the night and not disturb everyone on his way out. Content with that reasoning, you redirect your focus once again, only to catch sight of someone else at the other end of the room, tucked away a bit and somewhat hidden from sight. Not enough to be wholly hidden, obviously, but enough so that he will not disturb anything happening in the main area. It’s Hongjoong, of course, because any other member of the crew would have approached without care for being perceived. This is not the first time you have been witness to your captain’s insecurities surrounding his crew; however, seeing the man appear so small in his attempts to hide himself fills you with an odd sense of justified satisfaction. Has he earned a place at this table? Suffered the way these people have for his whims and desires? The answer is clear in your mind — no, he has absolutely not.

The song draws to a close, and you down the rest of your tea before ridding Hongjoong of your attention. San leads with a round of applause, one that both you and Mingi quickly echo. Wooyoung’s attention returns to you before anyone else.

“Jongho knows lots of traditional songs that we know,” he exhales through little gasps for air. “Yeosang and I, I mean. Songs we learned growing up on Aera.” He blows off the fumble of words so easily that you don’t even see a shift in emotion on his features.

“That one was rather sad.”

“It’s a funeral song! Or — a dirge, rather, for people who have departed. Either from life or gone off to new places in the universe, so that’s why the lyrics are so dismal. The song itself and the dance are for celebration though. Celebrating the life and time shared with those departed. I’ve done it a few times before just for fun like this!”

“Never for its true purpose?” you inquire out of sheer curiosity. Wooyoung’s smile turns into a close-lipped one that’s soft around the edges.

“Only once for that purpose.” He lets his words hang long enough for you to feel the weight of them, then he flits over to where Yeosang sits and drapes himself over the man like a blanket. Jongho’s fingers don’t rest on the guitar strings, and he continues to strum out another tune that Yeosang joins in once again, but Wooyoung rests his feet for now. Not his voice, it seems, as he continues singing quietly, words pushed into Yeosang’s shoulder rather than to the entire room.

“The tea made me a bit sleepy, so I think I’m gonna head upstairs,” you say to the man beside you. San nods a few times but refuses to let go of your hand even when you stand up from the loveseat. He comes along with you, in fact, setting his cup down beside yours on the nearby table. The energy of the night is beginning to wear off, and it’s draining fast from your body. San is humming beside you to the song Jongho plays, and you feel him tapping out the melody against your knuckles. You have felt this kind of peace more times than you can count while part of this crew, but it has seemed quite far away for a while now. You squeeze tighter at San’s hand like you’re waiting for the inevitable, like glass is about to shatter and the illusion of peace will become nothing but shards before you. Yet, none of that happens, and you revel in this moment you’re living in while climbing the stairs to the second floor of the hostel.

San pushes the door to your joint room open with one hand, tugging you in alongside him as a giggle tears from your lips. There’s a moment where you fall into his side, hand bracing on his hip when you collide into each other’s space. Then San is drifting away from you and letting your hands return to your sides. He steps over to the dresser with a song still on his lips.

“Hi,” you say to break the lull in conversation.

“Hello, star,” he replies with a fond little smile. You return the gesture as you slowly shut the door.

“Finally alone, hm?”

San’s focus pulls harder toward you. He gives up on his current task of pulling a change of clothes out to stare directly at you.

“Careful, my darling, a man could take such words to mean all sorts of things.”

You dip your chin to your chest and laugh, shaking your head as you push into the room. It’s not that you’re looking for anything in particular — sexual, you mean — and the two of you haven’t fucked around in several days, mostly out of joint avoidance and going straight to bed once you’ve gone about your days separately. You aren’t keen on anything now, either. There’s a knot in your gut that won’t unfurl, coupled with the recollection of what occurred last time. You thought of another man. San called you treasure. There was some degree of an argument which resulted in you asking for sex to feel better, and San, who is one to voice when something is not okay in the bedroom, complied eagerly. Maybe you both made mistakes that night, and all you could do to patch the wounds you left on each other was fuck it out of your systems.

San watches you carefully as you make your way to the bed and sit on the edge of it. He mirrors your movements by sitting on the dresser, hands clasped around the edge of it. The impending conversation must weigh on him too given how his usual teasing jokes don’t persist. Though your peace was far from an illusion and you do not wish to tarnish it, you do know that letting your thoughts fester any longer will cause monumental problems in the long run. As it is, you have already told yourself this can wait until tomorrow, let’s just enjoy tonight time and time again. If not now, then when because there will always be another excuse you can pull out of your back pocket to explain why it’s not a good time to speak.

“You called me your treasure the other night.”

“I— um, did you… when was this?” San fidgets in his seat, and you see him visibly nervous for the first time in a long time before you. “I’m not trying to play dumb, I just genuinely don’t recall th—”

“Why did you call me that? In that moment, what made you say that?” It isn’t your intention to interrupt him so harshly, but you fear losing your nerve or caving too soon when this conversation needs to happen desperately.

San exhales slowly and blinks at you several times.

“Y/n…?”

“It was when you went down on me while I was crying for fuck’s sake, San! Do you really not remember?”

“I… I do. Well, I remember that night, yes, but — Y/n, I truly don’t remember calling you that.” His mouth hangs slightly agape as he looks at the floor, searching for nothing in particular. “I went down on you because I wanted to make you feel good because you asked me to make you feel good. I wanted it too, I would have said something if I didn’t, and I would never push for something I didn’t think you wanted either. I wanted you to feel good and cherished because you weren’t feeling that way in that moment, I wanted to s-show you physically how much I want you. It wasn’t for any other reason, I promise. I don’t know how I can prove that to you but please say the word and I will do whatever to do so.”

Your jaw snaps shut, and you tighten your hold on yourself by pulling your arms tighter around your body.

“I wouldn’t… would never call you that, Y/n. That’s something that — Hongjoong calls Seonghwa that. I wouldn’t dare call you that too.” He frowns. “I know things are still shaky between us and that you don’t trust much of what I say in relation to him, but please believe that this is me being wholly honest with you. I would not call you such a thing because I do not want you to believe that I view you the way Hongjoong views Seonghwa.” He inhales and looks towards the door as though someone will be there to tell him off for what he wishes to say next. “That would be cruel.”

You go so still that even your breathing halts for a few seconds. San presses his lips into a thin line and swallows around nothing. He appears more determined when he speaks again.

“Implying that I view you as a mere treasure to be had and used would be cruel. In my eyes, you could hang the very stars in the sky if you so wished, you are the stars themselves, and in my next life, I hope to be a galaxy so that I can hold you in my heart for as long as I live. I love you. I truly do. I would not wish for us to ever be like them or have a relationship like theirs and I do not want you to believe that my love is conditional on your being useful to me because it's not.”

It speaks volumes to both his character and how he views his captain. And yet, it also shows you how deeply roots the seeds Hongjoong has planted are, and you fear for your sanity for creating such a thing out of thin air like that. Silence hangs. San is smart. You’re more than well aware of that. He’s perceptive and intelligent in many ways, which means that if what he’s saying is what he perceives to be truth then he can put two and two together. You thought he called you his treasure, Hongjoong calls Seonghwa that, you were thinking of Hongjoong while having sex with San.

"Is that true?" Your voice comes out meek. Shame creeps in alongside embarrassment and humiliation because in retrospect (and when you look past your muddled feelings of anger and confusion) San’s explanation does truly make more sense. Why would he call you that? He has not been cruel to you when it comes to Hongjoong. Even if he were toying with you, he has not been heartless.

"I swear on my life, Y/n. If that's not enough then I will gladly set myself before Minho or Yunho or Mingi and have any of them interrogate me in front of you. They’ll know whether I’m lying or not without fault." San steps away from the dresser, yet your gaze is still firmly set on the ground when he comes to sit beside you. A laugh escapes from your lips as the mattress dips next to you.

“Is this what Seonghwa feels like? Going fucking insane and it’s all because of that… that man.” You don’t need to look San in the face to know what expression he wears, because he reaches for one of your hands and takes it between both of his. “Before I went to see Hongjoong that night, I had fought with Seonghwa. About a lot of things but it’s all left me with a lot to think about. Much of what he said hurt me deeply, especially hearing him tell me that I was a substitute for someone else in his mind.” The admission that you did the same lies on the tip of your tongue, and it’s already partly out in the open, but there’s not enough bravery in you to tell San that now, or that you thought of Hongjoong more recently either. “He also told me there are many ways in which Hongjoong has been orchestrating my destruction from the very start. Going from that fight to an argument with Hongjoong too was very damaging to my confidence and my psyche say the least.”

“What happened with Hongjoong?” San inquires, still careful in how he broaches the subject. “I was told that you were forced in line, but is that true?”

“He made me kneel. Or rather he ordered Mingi to make me kneel, and he did. I did.” Pressure hits your shoulder, the full weight of San’s head as he pushes his cheek to your arm and leans into you. “Seonghwa is suffering some sort of mental breakdown of an insane degree and has no one to help him out of the grave he and Hongjoong both have dug beneath his feet.”

“I’ve been trying to help,” San interjects quietly, though it’s staggered by wetness in his tone that’s hard to ignore, “to no avail whatsoever.”

The thought of running away from it all crops up in your mind again. To take San and Wooyoung and Yunho and Seonghwa and everyone — taking them all away and running without looking back. Yet, if you were to do that, everything would so quickly fall apart that the ends would not be worth what it took to bring you there. Hongjoong is many terrible, awful things, but in the very least he contains in him the inherent ability to unite people under his command. You couldn’t do such a thing, nor could you in good conscience be harsh when the time came. What’s running rampant through your mind correlates with real life, and you squeeze San’s hand over yours harder.

“Hongjoong purposefully isn’t letting Seonghwa on this mission because he’s worried too. That’s why Yunho is going instead. Seonghwa is hardly happy about it but he needs the break.” San exhales a quivering sigh. “He needs a break from his duties as lieutenant, at least for now, and Hongjoong is trying to let him have that. There are things only he can do of course — like the dealings with the cargo and having that all settled but those are easier in comparison. Seonghwa doesn’t usually let anything slip when things are awry in his head, he keeps his mask up, and he tries his best to put on a front for the crew. Though it’s never been explicitly stated before the whole crew, everyone pretty much knows that he is not an Elitist. We just… know our boundaries and respect that we should not expect to be told. I was told, as the captain’s left hand. I respect secrets, and I respect privacy. Anything told to me in confidence will be taken to my grave unless I am told it is information safe to be shared. I do not hide things out of malicious intent. That being said, I will do my best to be more open and honest with you moving forward. Would you please do the same in return?”

“I am honest with you already,” you cut in almost in an instant. San’s hand flexes around yours. “But I will… I’ll continue to do so.”

His frown is felt against your shoulder.

“If that were true then you would not be revealing truths to me now.”

“I’m sorry.” The tension that rises in your muscles forces his head off your arm. “I’m really sorry.”

“I’m not chastising you, beloved, breathe.” You’re already turning to look at his face when he reaches up with a hand to cup your cheek. “I love you. So deeply and so dearly.”

“I love you too.”

“Let’s do this without having sex. Right now, let’s just talk… without it turning into sex.” You nod against his hand. San is gnawing hard at his lower lip, and it’s already swollen from what must be continued abuse in an attempt to keep tears at bay considering how red the corners of his eyes are. “Do you wanna go out on the balcony?”

Your hands do not separate when he stands, and you stay as close to him as possible when following him to the door like he’s the one thing keeping you tethered to reality at the moment.

Outside, night has fallen, but the small balcony before you sits covered and enclosed by panes of glass. Below you can see the courtyard where you and Minho were earlier, exposed to the night air and the toxins it brings, but up here it’s like another world. The torches continue to bloom with their purple flames along the buildings, fluorescent green lights accent places where the streets are too dark to be lit by flame alone, and silver chimes glint every so often when the wind nudges them in the right direction.

“The town looks pretty at night,” you note as San leads you to a seat near the glass.

“Quite beautiful indeed.” He squeezes your hand one last time before pulling away at last and sitting down in the chair beside yours. When you glance his way, you find him picking at the skin under his nails and watching the skin peel back to reveal something raw and tender beneath. “I am going to tell you some truths that are hard for me to admit, let alone process still. Despite thinking about it and practicing what I want to say in my head time and time again, I may struggle with how to say things. After you went to the bathroom to wash up that night with Seonghwa, he told me that Hongjoong was the sole person on his mind. That hurt me to hear, so I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to pass that pain onto you as well. I overheard a bit of the commotion in the kitchen when the two of you fought, and Seonghwa had told me that he would be honest with you eventually. I wouldn’t need to be a genius to figure out that it wouldn’t go over well. Foolishly, I had thought that I could be someone to help mend the hurt both of you were feeling — your hurt from how things between you and Seonghwa ended, and Seonghwa’s hurt from once again being tossed away by his love. Seonghwa’s eagerness made me believe that it was more okay than it turned out to be, or perhaps he went into it from the start with one thing — or person, rather — on his mind.”

You remain quiet in the face of San’s admissions, even when he takes a moment to breathe and stare out at the city. His hands still in his lap and finally let his fingers have a break from the harm he was doing to them just seconds ago. He grips the armrests of his chair hard and uses his momentum to turn it more toward you. You’re faced with his rapt attention now, as his elbows come to rest on his knees and he clasps his hands between them.

“It’s true that I once had a physical relationship with Hongjoong and Seonghwa. Never just one of them alone; I was always asked to be the third for when they desired it, and I was more than happy to be that for them. We’ve discussed my views on relationships and romantic versus sexual partnerships before, and I’ve had those beliefs for a long time. However, I haven’t fully learned that it’s not so easy for everyone to fall into those roles and that the act of being a third is not always cut and dry. It’s suited for some people like myself, and not for others, which is understandable and completely fine. I thought as well that the two of you having experience with each other sexually would provide comfort and ease. What I did not do was take into consideration the hurt left between you or how sensitive the situation was for everyone involved. I take full responsibility for that night, regardless of who was thinking about what during, and I am so deeply apologetic for being the one to facilitate that. I wanted to speak and apologize to you first, but I do want to offer the same apology to Seonghwa as well.” He waits then with teeth sunk into his lower lip so hard that it disappears from the pressure. It’s your time to speak, to offer an explanation or an acknowledgment of all that he’s poured out to you, but your mind is so full of a clusterfuck of thoughts that all that comes out in the end is —

“I feel like a whore.”

It stuns the both of you in the same way, and San’s expression freezes as he simply stares at you unsure of what to say to that. The shock is almost comical if not for the severity of your conversation at present.

“Would you please tell me why you feel that way?” he asks once the initial shock of your comment passes.

“I was not very present that night. I didn’t feel like I was in my right mind, but know that I did not feel pressure to do anything out of my comfort zone. I was the one who misread my own signals and sought something in physical comfort to ease my thoughts. Seonghwa was clearly not wholly there either, as we know, and the two of us took it out on each other. Since then, I’ve been feeling the way I did that night during sex and it’s driving me mad. I don’t wish to have those thoughts or constantly be reminded of that night but it comes on of its own volition.”

“Okay then full stop, we slow down. Sex isn’t a must.”

“Well, it’s difficult because we depend so heavily on being physical to show affection for one another.”

“That just means we can find new ways to share our affection,” San says through a smile, “and we can still cuddle and hug and kiss even. Being physical and offering comfort is not inherently sexual. I have to learn that too. I’m such a physical person in every way. I adore giving in every way I can physically to show my feelings, but that clouds and muddies things a lot. A healthy relationship with sex doesn’t mean always having sex though. There are other ways we can do things together or other ways to connect and be with each other intimately. But—” he leans back and squares his shoulders, still smiling ever so softly at you “—while I’m thinking clearly, I’m going to say that I know continuing to have sex while you are struggling with your thoughts during it and we’re both in need of healing our relationship towards it is not the best thing to do. I’m not at all willing to ask it of you until you definitively tell me otherwise.”

“I love you so much,” you murmur, and San’s nose scrunches at the sudden confession. He blows a kiss your way as he leans back in his chair once more, settling into it more comfortably now that his thoughts are out in the open.

“You know, I’ve been reading some of the books you keep on your shelves lately. The Siren ones, I mean. Since you told me of your identity, I’ve been curious to learn more about what it means to be one. I didn’t know you were so cool.” Your laughs echo in the enclosed area of the balcony, mixing together.

“Sorry, but I can’t show off or anything. I don’t know how to do much at all.”

San reaches an arm over to your chair and you seek his hand with your own like it's second nature to do so.

“Even the little things about you impress me. You don’t need to do much.” His thumb rubs methodical little lines against the base of your index finger. “The music and the dancing were lovely, weren’t they?”

“It was all very nice. Lively too, and happy.”

“I’ve always loved performances like that,” San says with a smile tugging the corners of his mouth up. “When I was younger, growing up with the Taskmaster and Father — my captain at the time, I mean — I got to have one tablet. At the orphanage, I wasn’t allowed any personal belongings, and though I spent most of my time confined to one small cell, it still had a few things here and there to make the space mine. Besides the collar on my neck and chain keeping me to the wall, of course.” The crude attempt at a joke doesn’t make you laugh as much as it makes you terribly sad. The times when San openly discusses the grim details of his youth are few and far between. The more you learn of how he was forced to grow up, the more your heart aches inside your check, and the desire to close yourself around the icy stake in his chest spikes exponentially. “It had all sorts of training videos on it to help me learn to be more effective in my role on the crew. Part of the combat training videos were dances, meant to teach how to move in a way that could conserve the body’s energy. Since my abilities are so dependent on stamina, that sort of training was beyond crucial. But instead of using them for that purpose, I used to hide under the covers on my bed and watch those dances in secret though, just for fun rather than learning. And I got caught once by my father.”

“Did he punish you for it?”

“Rather than punishing me, he instead took me to a performance. Taskmaster Cara disagreed with the choice vehemently but Father didn’t pay her any mind. He simply wanted to bring me to the show. It was a night circus, traveled across the stars with the act, but we ended up seeing the show on Kebos of all places. It was a different city from where Mingi and Yunho grew up, so the coincidences stop there, though that would have been pretty special if it had been. Um… if I remember right, it was winter and snowing at the time, which was a first for me too. In the tent they had set up for the circus, there was this enormous rink of ice. Father got us seats right up by the railings and—” San cuts himself off with a laugh as he pushes his free hand out in front of him like he’s reliving the memory “—two automatons were dancing on the ice with wheels in place of feet to help them move. I remember it was the most fascinating and beautiful thing I had seen in my life. That memory — it was my happiest as a child. So seeing Wooyoung dance… it always reminds me of that experience and that feeling I had then. But seeing the two of you dance together tonight made me especially sentimental. Even though it wasn’t the same… I felt like I was seeing it all over again. Thank you for taking me back to that place.”

You squeeze your fingers around San’s.

“I hope we can share a lot more of those kinds of memories too.”

San’s response comes in a rounded smile, then he settles back in his chair with his eyes shut and a hum in his throat. Though you don’t recognize the tune, you can only imagine it’s that song from the dance he witnessed all those years ago. In the descending night, you think that maybe the two of you will be okay after all.

────────────

The blissful peace that hangs in the air remains undisturbed until you and San are getting ready for bed. It’s then that a knock comes at your door, and with San in the bathroom washing his face, you take it upon yourself to be the one to answer it. You could have thrown at several guesses as to who would be waiting on the other side, and even the idea that it might be someone who works at the hostel would have come to mind before the man who is actually waiting there.

“Mingi…” you exhale in partial shock.

“Would you please come on a walk with me, Ghost?” His gas mask hangs loose around his neck, and he reaches up to point at it when your gaze flits downwards. “Bring yours if you’d like to come along.”

“Why not here?”

“There are too many eyes and ears here. The walls are thin. I would rather not talk about this in front of San. I do not want it to go back to the wr—to other people.” Every bit of his reasoning comes across as very matter-of-fact, but it all makes sense and you can’t argue with it.

“Okay,” you say through a nod, “okay, hold on.”

Mingi remains at the door as you move back to the bathroom, leaning through the doorframe to catch San’s attention while he’s brushing his teeth.

“I’m going out for a little bit with Mingi.”

San hums before leaning over the sink and spitting what’s left in his mouth out. “Be safe and bring your mask. Don’t worry about waking me when you get back if I’m asleep, just come in comfortably. I’ll try to stay up until you return though.”

“You don’t have to do that.” The way he’s smiling at you implies that he won’t listen to your words. “Sleep well, I love you.”

“I love you too. Dearly. Let me know if there are any pretty sights out there at night!”

You retrieve your mask from the top of the dresser on your way back to where Mingi is patiently waiting.

“I apologize for bringing you out so late,” the Berserker says once you shut your bedroom door behind you.

“No, it’s alright. You’ll be awfully busy with the cargo tomorrow as well, so this is fine. Besides, part of me is curious about what’s so special about nighttime here.” Mingi doesn’t laugh when you do, but he does plaster on something semi-adjacent to a smile. The two of you both secure your masks around your faces before even reaching the bottom of the stairs, although you have to fiddle with the straps a lot more than he does to make it sit comfortably over your nose. Mingi presses the door open with one hand, and you brace yourself for something dramatic or violent to happen yet that never comes. Air filters in and out of your gas mask, not even leaving a scent to pass through.

“Please, follow me. I found a spot while I was making cargo trips today that looked quite nice. I think it’ll be a good spot to talk.” He walks slow enough for you to keep up without a struggle, even if you are somewhat distracted by examining every inch of your surroundings as you go. It’s fascinating to a certain extent because, despite all the warnings and concerns about nighttime, you still find an inordinate amount of people milling about the cobbled streets freely. No masks in sight on many, and some have them on their being but only hung about their necks like the masks are nothing but a statement piece and nothing functional to be used. The sight makes your skin itch and burn, a certain level of discomfort washing over you as you urge yourself to keep pace with Mingi. The chime hanging down from your right ear jingles with every step you take, and it sounds so awfully loud against the thick material of the mask.

The Berserker brings you over to the edge of the gorge, somewhere along the very place you initially arrived at, where there is nothing but braided rope stretched taut between lampposts to keep people from tumbling to an unsightly doom. Those same lampposts bear purple flames just as the others you saw in the city, but to see them against the night skin makes their glow seem all the more ominous. Down below lies that foggy ravine, although you can’t bear to look at it for long.

Mingi pauses by the ropes and grips the topmost one with both hands. You join in alongside him, squeezing the material tight as you look over across the gorge. In the night, you can just hardly make out the outline of The Horizon in the distance, yet it looks so terribly foreign and desolate with it’s lights fully shut off.

“May I ask you something about Sirens?”

“Oh! Yes, absolutely, though I may not be ab—”

“Is Jongho a Siren?”

“—what?” You blink at your companion several times before his words sink in. “What?!”

“Is Jongho a Siren?” he repeats like nothing he said was out of the ordinary in the slightest.

“He’s — he’s a Berserker. He’s got the red eyes, and the strength of at least twenty men combined, and he can do things the rest of us can’t.”

“Yes, but he can influence emotions, no?” Mingi lets one hand fall to his side in favor of turning more toward you.

“Well, yes.”

“Can you? As a Siren?”

“Not like that, I can only—” you’re forced to bite your words back when the risk of exposing the others presents itself. Mingi will know if you’re lying, he’ll feel the increase in your heart rate surely like a shark smelling blood in the water. You must do your best to choose your next words so carefully that he won’t even suspect there are others amongst the crew. “Sirens can only sense other Sirens’ emotions. I cannot feel what you are feeling at this moment. The best I can do for anyone who is not a Siren is sympathize or empathize with them from person to person, but I cannot genuinely and truly know what they’re feeling. Nor can I feel those feelings myself. What Jongho does is different. He feels everyone’s emotions as though theirs are his own, like you do I’m sure, but he’s no Siren.”

“He draws emotions out of others like a siphon and takes them onto himself. Sirens are not capable of anything like that?”

Again you bite your tongue. What Mingi knows of Sirens must be very cut and dry — anything that could be drawn out of a book or fed to him through people such as Hongjoong or Yunho. If Seonghwa spoke to him, there’s no way of knowing what extent of the truth the man shared with Mingi. For the best, you would be wise not to mention the existence of Sirens such as Wooyoung and yourself.

“No, they are not.” You look down at where your hands cling to the rope barrier, finding your knuckles white with the effort of gripping it. “The most I can do is try to soothe another Siren by projecting my feelings towards them like some sort of projection, but that does nothing to force any certain emotion onto them. They will still feel the same as they did but simply be made aware of what I am feeling too. And that ability does not work on people who aren’t Sirens.” Except for the fact that I have forced thoughts into Hongjoong’s head somehow.

Mingi redirects his gaze to the gorge.

“Part of me desired a different answer honestly.”

“I… don’t understand?”

“I wished to hear that Jongho’s abilities were that of some strange cross between a Siren and a Berserker that muddled the genetic pool of his abilities. For years, he has been the one to assist me in coming down from episodes. While Captain and Healer have made attempts to do so themselves, they consistently require Jongho’s help. He is always the one called to do so. I know for certain that there are times when I feel myself fighting back urges, when I am strong enough to win back control from the voices without Jongho using his little ability… I still cannot help but doubt how much of it comes from my own efforts and how much is his influence with that trick.” The Berserker’s voice remains void of any clue as to what he’s feeling, but the stare he casts over the gorge seems so forlorn that it makes your chest ache. “I know why he does it, but I also know why he does it without telling those he’s taking from most times. Because he knows they would not approve and that, in his mind, there is something morally grey about it.” It draws a sigh out of Mingi’s lips, and he turns around, leaning against the railing with his elbows propped up on the rope. “Do you not find it selfish?”

“I understand Jongho is trying to help so it’s hard to say that there is something inherently bad in what he’s doing,” you say as quietly as you can manage while still being audible. “I caught him doing it to me one time, and that enraged me beyond belief because it was against my will. I was robbed of the choice to feel my emotions. Is that selfish?”

“Yes.” You expected as much. “Doing something that robs another of a choice is always selfish and self-serving, even if there is good to be had in doing it. I do not wish to think of him as selfish because I’m aware that he has very particular reasons for doing what he does — as an act of self-preservation and to try to even out the moral scales that he believes are tipped against him.”

“What would truly be different if he were a Siren?”

“Ah. Well then, I could at least assume that Captain was the one pulling the strings behind Jongho in an attempt to keep me on my leash. Not that that would be needed for me in particular. My loyalty has never wavered regardless of what Captain has done in the past, but then again, he has never tried to do anything to me directly.” Mingi’s gaze slips down to you, torn from the scene ahead of him that consists of watching natives move above the streets. “Sorry.” The single word is flat and void of any semblance of emotion.

“Why’re you saying that?”

“Because that’s what people do when they desire to console others.”

“Do you feel that I need to be consoled?” His words hadn’t made you feel any type of way — positive or negative — so it’s a wonder why Mingi would think you need to be comforted by an apology right now. The Berserker tilts his chin back, and it forces his gaze to the night sky overhead.

“No,” he starts, “you feel oddly neutral tonight with me.” Though you cannot see a smile thanks to his gas mask, you are the recipient of a rare laugh from the man. You have no clue what caused him to laugh, but it’s nice to hear the sound nonetheless.

“You don’t need to say sorry. I understand why my loyalty needs to be twisted into place in Hongjoong’s eyes.”

“You killed a king before, didn’t you?”

“…Yes.”

“Why?”

The question stumps you not because you cannot think of a reason but rather because many immediate answers fight to be at the forefront of your mind.

“He was a bad person.”

“Yet you view Captain as such too.” Mingi once again redirects focus to you. this time you make direct eye contact with the man, and the deadpan expression across his face combined with his next words makes your gut twist with anxiety. “Were you to try to kill him then I would kill you.”

“He would kill me himself long before I got the chance to even dream up the thought of doing such a thing.” Mingi does not appear wholly convinced. “Oddly enough, I do not want him dead so I suppose we’re all safe.”

Mingi clenches and unclenches his fists, easing his elbows further back on the railing. You can see the ship in the distance still, far across the gorge and still settled on the landing pad. It looks strangely lifeless in this light, with the knowledge that no one is aboard, yet you think that it is a long overdue rest for all her hard work and flights of late.

“Do you view yourself as a good person, Y/n?” Mingi angles his body towards you as he poses the question. Rather than giving you an opening to respond, he continues on speaking, “In the books I read, good and evil exist, and good always tries to end the evil. So do you view yourself as the good trying to kill the evil in this universe?”

“No.” You clear your throat before beginning again with more confidence in your tone. “No, I do not. What’s bad in my eyes very well may be good in others. There were many who were happy with the king, who thought him good, and he did do good at times. He was not all bad, but I perceived him as such for a short time. All it takes is that short time to want to do something bad to someone you think deserves it.”

“I fail to understand it that way,” your companion retorts. “My father told me before every match in the arena that the opponent was nobody of worth or value in the universe. They were neither good nor evil by his standards. Just a life that did not need to be lived, and it was my job to make way for other lives in place of theirs.”

“Then your father was trying to teach you that you were doing something good?”

“To an extent, sure, but I never understood it that way because I never had an understanding of emotion or good versus evil back then. And maybe good and evil don’t exist at all, maybe it’s all perception that’s in the eye of the beholder.” He angles his head further down but looks off over your shoulder with a sort of faraway gleam in his dark red eyes. “Perhaps at the end of the day… all we do are things that are based on a perception that we try to convince ourselves is a universal truth.” He sees something behind you, yet there is nothing but air and a freefall there. A ghost, perhaps, that has come to haunt him for merely breathing the faintest mention of his father.

All of a sudden, he shoves away from the railing and steps off like he’s going to head back the way you came.

“We should head back now before it gets too late.”

“You go on ahead, I want to stay out a bit longer.” In the blink of an eye, Mingi is back at your side, head drawn so close to your ear that his mask bumps against yours.

“It would be best to leave now and save the sightseeing for later.” His hushed tone urges you to glance back at your surroundings, and what reads as concern to you is fortified by the lingering stares sent your way by those on the streets.

“I understand.” Yet still when Mingi tries to leave again, you remain rooted to the spot. Something else crosses your mind suddenly, something San had said to you in regard to his honesty. “Mingi. Have you ever seen San be cruel?”

Silence.

The Berserker turns his body until it’s perpendicular to yours and finds you still lingering at the railing.

“What does it look like?” you continue upon deciphering his silence as affirmation.

“…Like nothing you have ever seen.” He extends a hand towards you. “Come.”

How would you know that, how could you know such things, when doors are shut and I’m in his arms? Who could possibly know?

Your heart soars with his words nonetheless. Despite it all, here Mingi stands still trying to reassure you.

Your gaze lingers on the foggy waters below, with their odd glow and minty green hue. Something rattles you, another thing beckons you.

“There’s something down there,” you utter once you release your grip on the railing and take Mingi’s hand.

“I know,” he says quietly, “I hear it too.”

Mingi delivers you to your door safely and in one piece. He bids you goodnight with a small bow of his head but not a single comment concerning all that the two of you discussed on your excursion outside. Just as you’re turning the door handle to go inside, he pauses in the hallway and thanks you for your time. The conversation plays on repeat in your mind as you change into nightclothes and wash your face. When you join San in bed at long last, he has already fallen asleep with a book folding over his bare chest. It seems he really did try to stay awake waiting for you to return. You turn the light beside the bed off. Your mind is still far too busy to let you shut your eyes right away, so you spend some time facing San and staring at his profile through the darkness.

Mingi had seemed so sure of what he said. You rest a hand on San’s cheek and turn his face towards you just to see his features better. He barely shifts at the touch.

“Even if something small, even if the words and prayers of a nonbeliever are not enough to be a suitable blessing, it at least has my heart behind it. I wish for your safety every night and your happiness every morning anyway, so what’s the harm in hoping this will do the same?”

The trinkets on your ears feel so heavy under the weight of that blessing.

“Missed you,” San mumbles suddenly, clearly less asleep than you initially thought. He adjusts to drape an arm around your body and brings your head up to lay flat against his chest. No more words are exchanged as he goes right back to sleep, but you lay there with your ear atop his heart listening to the steady and rhythmic thumping like it’s a lullaby to put you to bed.

Good people can do bad things just as bad ones can do good. Those are the words you wished you had shared with Mingi earlier. But in his perspective, that is entirely incorrect.

Maybe people are simply that — people. Good and bad are things normal, regular, plain people do, but not definitive of what they are at the end of the day. It’s a rather beautiful outlook on the universe, you must admit.

──────────── a/n: yoohoo big summer (delayed delayed delayed) blowout! moc style! aheem aheem. i apologize every chapter for delayed updates so im certain lots of yall are like yeah yeah caly okay... okay... but! here we are. i wrestled a lot with many parts of this chapter and was super unhappy when i finished (beyond just being relieved it was over) but after my besties read it and gave me feedback i feel so much better about it and my writing so i am very happy with this <3

so! from this chapter on (i will be mentioning this again in the next chapter and the subsequent ones) i ask that you very much pay attention to details... this act is a dicey one and there will be much interchanging between things that are real and things that are not. there are cues to clue you in on when it is real versus when it's not!! of course i will happily help show those clues where i can bc i don't want anyone to be in the dark or clueless but do not that i do not want the writing to suffer bec im attempting to overexplain it in the text! that being said i hope this chapter was well worth the wait and thank you always for being patient and kind with me 🙇‍♀️

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

#ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez series #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #wooyoung x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #jongho x reader #ateez fanfic #mists of celeste #caly.writes

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mortifiedatbeingknown · 9 months

Text

"An Odd Little Thing" (Pt. 10)

Masterpost:

“Monster?”

It couldn’t be. No, no, it couldn’t. But there was no other way. That was… He turned off his optics and turned them back on. Still the same. This wasn’t an error with new hardware.

The face in front of him was round and a little squished, with big, dark eyes, a wide nose,full lips, and a furrowed brow. There was a line of darker skin over her cheeks; the rest was pale. There was a mole on her chin.

“Monster?” He squeaked again, looking around. Its voice had been just there. Where was it?! “Monster!”

“Right here.” The girl’s lips moved. It was the exact same voice.

…

…Does not compute.

“Huh, I guess you’ve never seen me clearly before now, right?” She shrugged, making her ponytail bounce. “Well…this is what I look like. D-don’t stare. ”

No, no, that wasn’t it at all. He started to shake his head, but then his fresh eyes picked up the red jacket, the one that had previously only been a cracked blur. He saw the bug-eyed goggles that hung down from her neck. The black mask bundled around her chin. These all belonged to the monster, he knew that. He had seen them day after day from his old masters’ window. But then that would mean… that would mean…

“Monster.” He said this time, not a question, but a statement. He saved her facial features to his internal database.

Behind him, the shop man chuckled. “Why does he call you that anyways?”

The monster snorted. "Really doesn't like me, that's my guess."

"A-a-a-a-a-a-acckckkxhsuioksskksksh–"

But his voice box crackled out before he could give a proper answer.

“Oh! That reminds me.” She said. “Would you have any voice boxes on hand, too?”

“Sorry girlie, I double-checked. You’ll have to find it somewhere else.”

She sighed. “Figures. So, how much do I owe you?”

He let his eyes drift over to his surroundings as the two began to argue over price, the shop man cheerful and booming, the monster curt and tight-lipped. It was nice having clear vision again, but he didn’t want to get too attached either. Optics were easy to crack and expensive to replace, and they were often the first thing to break. He let the color drift by: The striped walls of the tent, the rows and rows of shelves and hooks and racks filled with colorful fabric and sleek, shiny mechanical components. It was far more advanced than anything he could be, the kind of androids his former masters were begging their parents for. It was his fault they couldn’t, since he existed, they didn’t have need for another robot. Now that he was gone, did they get it? Were they happier?

He hoped so.

“--And that’s the final offer.” The monster finished.

“Deal.”

He turned to see them shaking hands, and he could see every wrinkle in Shop Man’s grip and every stitch in the monster’s gloves. When the man caught him staring, he smiled.

“Well, what do you think, buddy?”

He checked his diagnostics. “Visual sensors functioning at optimum capacity.”

“That’s great to hear!”

“Indeed it is.” The monster added, though she seemed a lot less pleased. “Listen, Mac, it’s been great, but the sun’s going down, and I’d better…”

“Oh, of course, of course! Thanks for stopping by!”

He waved goodbye as the monster picked him up and tucked him safely under her jacket again. It was a little sad, having the world zipped up to nothing but dark red when there was so much he could’ve looked at now, but at least it wasn’t the backpack. Besides, now his eyes were good enough now to be able to see the little bits of fuzzy hanging off of the inside of the coat. It was something to look at. As the monster began to move, he lost himself again in the sound of her heartbeat.

***************************

The sunset was particularly pretty today.

It wasn’t the sort of thing she usually noticed, or cared to notice, anyways. These days, it was just easier to keep her head down. THe less she dawdled, the fewer chances for pickpockets. If she wasn’t outside, she didn’t have to worry about getting attacked or reported, or approached for conversation.

Her father had never liked that, back when he was still…around. He'd gently slap the back of her head and urge her to keep her head up, to breath the fresh air, to stare at the flowers, to never forget that even though they worked with the mechanical and the artificial, they were just as much a part of the natural world as any other human. It fed them nourished them… the least they could do was respect it.

…But it hadn't saved him, no matter how fervently he'd respected it. The disease that destroyed him from the inside was just as much a part as Mother Nature as anything else, had it not? Why should she give a damn for something that took away what she loved most? If her father had been artificial, she could've fixed him in half an hour flat. If she had been mechanical, she could have simply replaced her heart when it broke so that she wouldn't have to deal with its constant aching. It had been their humanity, their messy, bloody, emotional humanity that had spelled the end for both her and her family. And for that, she could never forgive the world. Never.

Still, the sunset was pretty. She wondered why she'd noticed.

Perhaps it was due to the robot in her jacket, whose servos thrummed and purred like a contented cat. It still hadn't come down from the high of those new eyes. Even now she could feel it shifting, straining against the thin fabric to try and see something beyond its current trappings, trying to soak in everything about the world outside as fast and as much as it could.

In a strange way, that desire had infected her too. There were so many things to see… the intricate cracks in the concrete that spread out like delicate spiderwebs,weeds sprouting up from between the cracks. The way her boots left ripples on the puddles left from a recent rain, leaving tiny waves that set floating twigs and dead leaves bobbing up and down, little boats in a little ocean. When she looked back,a crisp breeze blew back her hair, rustling patched-together curtains and damp, hung-out laundry still yet to dry. And over it all, coating every edge and plane and corner with its darkening brush was the sunset,red and yellow fading into the deep purple of the oncoming night. Whatever stars that dared to poke out of the gathering clouds tonight would be obscured by the flicmering of the city lights, and for the barest glimpse of a moment, she could feel the same rage her father had felt at the injustice.

It's…

She unzipped her jacket slightly, only enough for the robot to poke its head out.

"How about it?" She whispered, letting him take it all in.

The air filled with static as the robot began to cry.

#whump #whumpee #whump writing #robot whump #reluctant caretaker #odd little thing

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youmakemyhearthowl · 2 years

Text

Punk Princess

Something is off.

He’s not exactly sure what it is, but thing’s feel different with Steve, and it's twisting his heart a bit, because he figured once he apologized things would go back to how they were. The flirting, the banter, all of it. But Steve feels distant in a way he never had, even when this all first started.

But Steve still hangs out with them during their free period, and still braids Max and El’s hair on Tuesday when he holds the campaign for the kids. So he can’t quite figure out why he and Steve haven’t fallen back into that easy relationship they’ve had the last few months. He tries to breach whatever is holding them back by throwing in his usual flirtations on Thursday at Hellfire.

“Hey Princess, I’ve got your minis and everything set up for you.” He purrs, motioning for Steve to sit in his usual seat next to Eddie's throne, and the look he receives in return makes his heart fall to his ass.

A sharp hurt flashes in Steve’s eyes, giving them a slightly glassy look, before his features relax into an easy, empty indifference, pulling the sleeves of his oversized yellow sweater under his vest over his hands. Eddie notes there's a part in the fabric of the vest where it looks darker then the rest, like a patch had been taken off, and he’s suddenly struck with the realization that it’s the one that was a large gothic scripted E.

Throughout the entire session Eddie keeps trying to fit in flirtations with Steve, only to be met with that same empty look, and Eddie’s at a loss. Had he done something else wrong? He’d apologized so he didn’t understand what was still holding this massive distance between them.

Steve practically runs out of the room after the session is over, the rest of Hellfire following behind after offering a goodbye and sharp looks in Eddie's direction.

Okay seriously what the hell ?

Once he’s finished packing up he turns around and lets out a startled yelp to see Robin standing next to the door with her arms crossed over her chest, the spikes on her blue wash jean jacket flashing in the overhead lights.

“You’ve got some fucking nerve, Munson.” Her voice is hard, a tone he’s never heard from her before and he stumbles back a step at the force of it.

“It’s one thing to act like that half assed apology you spouted counted for anything, and the blatant flirting maybe I could turn a blind eye to, but to use his fucking.. God what's the word.. His honorific to refer to him when you made it pretty fucking clear that you don’t really see him as anything other then who he used to be. That’s fucking disgusting Eddie.”

What?

Eddie stumbles back further, hand reaching out to grasp the top of his throne to keep him standing as he blinks back at the girl in front of him. His entire world feels like it’s tilting on its axis.

“Unbelievable.” She shakes her head before slamming out of the room and leaving Eddie feeling like the rug just got pulled out from under him. He’d meant the apology he’d given Steve. He was sorry for how he had acted, so what exactly was he missing here?

“Hang on, wait a second, Robin.” He calls out after her, leaving his backpack abandoned on the floor in the drama room, slamming his elbow on the door in his haste.

“Robin, Jesus, slow down, hang on. What the fuck are you talking about?” Reaching out he places his hand on her shoulder to get her to stop, nearly falling backwards on his ass when she whips around on him.

“What am I talking about? Eddie are you that fucking dense?” That hard tone is still lacing her words and she was never someone Eddie would have described as scary before, but in this moment he was absolutely terrified of her, the green highlights in her hair giving her a dark aura as she steps up into his space.

“You are that dense.” She sounds surprised, which only softens her tone slightly, her eyes dancing over his face like she can see past the skin and bones directly into everything that makes him Eddie.

“Eddie you practically spat his past in his face and told him he was no better then who he used to be, because he wanted his fucking friends at his game. You stomped on every step he’s taken to change and be better and basically told him because he still loved basketball he was a piece of shit. I had to fucking… Eddie I had to console him for an hour after what you did, and he’s still walking around like a ghost of himself. You’re fucking smart, I know you are. So think about it a little and figure out where the hell you thought that bullshit apology about ‘overreacting’ would be anywhere, anywhere good enough to make up for the way you basically tore everything that he is to shreds.” She turns on her heels then, pulling her shoulder from under his grasp as she starts to make her way towards the Exit.

“And don’t you dare call him Princess until you’ve been given explicit permission by him to use it again. You should know better.” and with that she’s gone. Leaving Eddie to question everything he’s done the last week.

Steve not meeting his eyes, the heartbreakingly sad look that haunted him at the beginning of the school year coming back. The way Steve hadn’t been in or anywhere near Eddie's space since he spewed venom at Steve.

Steve didn’t even think that Eddie saw him as a person anymore, let alone a friend. He hadn’t just been an asshole, he’d been everything he hated in other people. He’d been unnecessarily cruel.

Unnecessarily cruel to probably the best person Eddie’s ever had the pleasure of calling a friend, or whatever it was they were heading in the direction of. He’d broken Steve's heart.

He’d broken Steve's heart.

God how do you even fix that? How do you come back from that?

Eddie needed to talk to Gareth.

#Punk Steve #Punk!steve #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #Robin is the best friend #Punk princess fic #Eddie is so autism coded #the poor thing is trying his best

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ventrue-in-control · 1 year

Text

~show drabble~

The show itself was held in a big open hall of the Hampton court. But the areas around it were decorated much the same. Glass-stained windows, deer heads and old tapestry artwork pieces. This was contrasted with the modern lights up in ceiling shining upon the guests. The red carpet outside was filled with people trying to showcase their own outfit for the paparazzi. The flashlights may as well have been none stop.

To Jackie though, that was of no importance now. He had people walking the catering and he would be certain he would get to have a chat with everyone after the show. He had folk who would help his friends who had never been to this kind of shows even had some to specifically escort Henry so he could avoid the millions of cameras. It didn’t seem like something he would enjoy no. Jackie hoped he would enjoy the rest though. And lord knew he prayed that henny wouldn’t sniff him out like the shark she was. Evil witch. none of that was something he could do something about now though. Show was about to start and he had to walk past all the models to make sure all was exactly as it had to be. Thank fuck for taran being around he knew he understood the importance of all this and since Jackie hired new and less experienced models it was good to have an old bag to keep everyone in line. He made a mental note to make taran a little plushie as a thank you for being a huge help.

When the lights and music started to dim though Jackie had to stop fretting over every little stitch. Not as if things weren’t perfect. He was genuinely proud of this collection. Maybe more so than other times. This collection was straight from the heart. Specifically made for henry… a goodbye, a love letters a welcome? Jackie wasn’t quite sure the concept had been many things gone through many stages and even more changes. Not knowing exactly what things were was fitting however so it didn’t really matter. Sometimes words just couldn’t translate what art meant.

Once all the lights were shut off the ones above the runway started to light up one by one while a slight fog of smoke was created. The music started to play the songs Jackie had picked. A combination of tradional Welsh folk mixed with the more modern runway ambience and beats. An odd mix that when he was looking for artists to create it most declined. But where there is a will there is a way.

The first couple of outfits were certainly odd. Following a modern take on what a knight aesthetic may look like. Rough and sturdy looking hoodies recreating the general shape of various pieces of armour. Bulky shoulders and interesting hoods that could function as fabric versions of helmets. Bags in the shape of shields. Belts with wooden swords as accessories. Mail chain chest pieces. Rings that recreated the finger pieces of armoured gloves. Jackie had to outsource a lot for the more metal bits and pieces. It was not his forte. Sewing the hoodies alone had been an awful experience. But the gays were gonna love it so it was worth it.

The next set that came up was more casual. Certainly, where a lot of the inspiration from the ready to wear came from. Dark sweaters with even darker coats and jackets. Long dark pants tucked into sturdy leather boots with the iron tips. Some of the sweaters were knitted with holes that were filled with thread showing the Kevlar jackets underneath them. Some of the models wore bucket hats that would cloak most of their face in the shades. There were people walking with padded leather pants and motorcycle gloves. Big sturdy bags hanging from one shoulder with patches that were seemingly falling off and more pockets one could dream of. Models walked with watches that were modified into compasses and rosaries.

The last set was the most futuristic. Heavily leaning into techwear. Lots of belts and chest pieces some even carrying fake wooden weapons in them. High collars and vizors to protect them. Scarfs with pins made of bones. Headscarf in beautiful deep blood red and black. Some had canes that drew into swords. Fake shotguns carried on their back. There were even some battle dresses as Jackie had decided to call them. At the end of it all. The lights went off and the music turned into softer ambiance as Jackie walked upon the stage holding a piece of paper right into the spotlight.

Walking past all the familiar faces… his friends and enemies. But mainly he was looking for henry. As soon as he managed to lock eyes his smile softened ever so slightly into something genuine. Quickly looking away again as he could not afford to cry on sta- wait why was Nero sitting behind him. that motherfu-

But there was no time to get upset. He had a speech to give. A small one. He had promised to himself to not have any long ass speeches no more. “I want to thank you all for coming to the SALMON 23 unisex couture spring collection! This collection was made with a good friend of mine in mind. To showcase my appreciation for him and to showcase that he is seen. That he would never be forgotten and that he has always been a muse even if he may not realize it. I hope for anyone who may choose to wear anything from the collection that they may feel empowered and safe. That they may feel like these clothes would last for forever. That they can count on these garments as much as I can count on my friend. That is all. And once more. Thank you all for everything.” and with he turned away. walking past henry once more as he smiled and worded something lost into the darkness. he would meet up with him later. first off he needed to shake off the nerves as he felt like he was gonna scream if he didnt real fast got to sit down.

#long read #may honestly not make any sense #BUT #best one could do

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zhongli-topper · 3 years

Text

zhongli x reader - when you sit on his throne (nsfw)

includes: femdom, cunnilingus, pegging, sex toys, orgasm denial, inappropriate use of geo archon's throne

pairing: zhongli x fem reader

a/n: i got the idea of reader ordering zhongli to worship her while she sits on his throne and it wouldn't leave until i wrote this.

“About those thrones that the Geo Archon sits upon in his statues…”

Zhongli turns towards you, an inquisitive look in his eye. “Yes? What about them?”

You tap your chin contemplatively. “I was wondering if you could still make one.”

He raises an eyebrow, but nods. “Yes, I believe that’s possible. May I ask for what purpose?”

You look up at him, thoughtful, and the smallest of smirks lights up your face. You let your hand caress his back, lingering at his waist, and he shivers just the slightest bit when you pull him close. “Just a little idea I had…”

Your imagination had kept working as the two of you went about your day. Zhongli would easily be able to summon an edifice like his throne, he’d told you, much like the pillars he erected in battle.

Did he have any idea what you were planning, you wondered?

Later that day the two of you meet at home. You lean up to kiss your husband on the cheek, pulling his face toward yours.

“Welcome home, Zhongli,” you say with a sweet smile on your face. “I was hoping that you could fulfill my request from earlier today…?”

He smiles, his golden eyes warm as he looks at you. “Of course, my love.”

He waves his hand and the air shimmers in the middle of your bedroom, before it begins to coalesce into a solid form. Soon, the throne of Rex Lapis stands on your floor, a large and regal stone structure fit for a god.

You step towards it, running a hand over the tall back and smooth, solid stone.

“So,” you say, “you used to sit in a throne like this, Zhongli…?”

“I did,” he confirms, watching you circle around it slowly, your gaze slowly sliding towards his. Ever perceptive, his golden eyes narrow just slightly as he looks down at you.

“There’s something on your mind, my love.”

“There is.” You take his hand, still gloved and warm in your own, and hold it as you sink into the throne, the stone cool and unyielding under your skin. It’s almost too big, taking up much of the free space, and your feet don’t touch the floor, so you slide forward in the seat.

You tug him down until he’s kneeling before you, and you see the shift in his eyes, how they darken as his knees sink to the floor. You sigh, crossing one leg over the other, and slide your hand into his dark hair. “Dearest,” you say, your voice low, “take off your coat.”

He bites his lip, flushing at your tone, but he complies, and you appreciate the slow roll of his broad shoulders as he removes his brown jacket and sets it aside.

“What of the rest of my clothes?” he inquires. He knows, when you’re in this mood, that it’s your orders that are to be followed, not his. You’ve trained him well, and allow yourself an indulgent smile.

“Take off your gloves and shirt. Leave your pants on.”

He does so while you watch him, your elbow resting on the throne’s armrest, your hand supporting your chin. Once he’s undressed to your satisfaction, you feel your smile grow once more before cupping his jaw.

“Good boy,” you say, pulling him up as you lean down and meet him halfway, pressing your lips together in a short but intense kiss that leaves him panting and blushing darker. You lean back, your legs still crossed, but you can feel the wetness beginning to make itself known between your thighs. Out of instinct, Zhongli follows you, both hands braced on either side of you, on the throne, but not touching you without your permission.

You straighten up in your seat and shift your hips, and Zhongli’s dark-gold eyes track your every movement, especially when you reach down to pull up the hem of your skirt, revealing more of your skin. You tug at the garter of your underwear.

“Take them off,” you command him, your thigh pressing under his chin, “and worship me, Rex Lapis.”

A shaky breath escapes his lips when you use his former name. He’s no longer an Archon, but something about this—him, kneeling at your feet while you sit upon his throne, addressing him by his godly name while ordering him to worship you—

For someone as long-lived as he is, it’s a novel experience, and that’s a rare thing for him to say.

With only the slightest tremor, he slides his hands up your thighs, noting how warm and soft your skin is, until his hands find your hips. You enjoy the sensation of his palms before stopping him, leaving him to look up at you curiously.

“Use your mouth, love.”

His chin dips in obeisance, before redirecting his grip to pull up your skirt far enough for him to bite down on the fabric of your panties. You feel the light touch of his lips and the tip of his nose along your hips and then he’s sliding your underwear down your legs, slowly, like you are truly something worth revering under his touch.

He lets out a low groan at the scent of your arousal when you part your legs after he sets your underwear down on the floor next to him. Before you let him come close, you prop your heel on his shoulder and his large hand closes around your ankle, lips pressing to the inside of it before he trails more kisses up the inside of your leg. His eyes don’t leave yours, as if seeking your approval, and you give it to him with a lazy smile.

When he reaches your thighs Zhongli’s cheeks darken and his long eyelashes flutter before he says, “Mistress…”

You feel a rush of adrenaline at the title and spread your legs wider, propping up one foot on the edge of the throne. “What are you waiting for, Rex Lapis?”

“…Please, let me taste you, Mistress.”

“Go on. That’s what I told you to do.”

Your teeth sink into your lower lip when he kisses along the inside of your thigh, feeling the warmth of his mouth until he reaches your cunt. To his credit, he dives in nearly right away, mouth hanging open as if desperate to taste you. You drape one of your legs over his shoulder and he grasps onto to it tight, long fingers pressing into your flesh as he laps at your core.

You place your hands over his, one on your leg and the other on the throne’s cool stone. “Keep your hands there, love,” you say, “and don’t move them.”

You feel the low rumble of his hum in affirmation and sigh, letting yourself slouch down further in the throne to open up your hips to his tongue. You let him stay there a while, watching his eyes flutter shut as he rolls his tongue over your clit as if devouring the most delicious meal.

He works his mouth over your clit, pushing his tongue at your entrance, until you feel yourself getting closer to your climax. You reach down and grab a handful of his dark hair, tugging hard and pushing your pussy into his face, your wetness soaking his lips, and he opens his mouth wide for you, tongue licking fervently at your entrance and your clit, his nose pressed into your skin, until you cry out in orgasm.

After you catch your breath and the stars disappear from behind your eyes, you tell him “That’s enough.” He sits back, eyes hazy, his mouth and chin shiny with your wetness. You wipe some of your slick off his chin with your thumb and he says “Thank you, Mistress,” red dusting his cheeks. A quick glance downward shows that his hands are clenched on top of his thighs, obediently not touching himself as you’d instructed, and a noticeable bulge in his pants. You smile at the sight.

“Since you’ve been a good boy, I’ll let you sit on this throne with me,” you say, getting up and crossing the room to your nightstand, where you keep some of your toys. You open a drawer and sift through the contents, before you find what you’ve been looking for.

“Zhongli, dear,” you say, “come over here?”

He gets up from where he’s kneeling in front of the throne and approaches you, posture submissive despite his height. You can see his eyes widen and hear his breath hitch when he sees the harness, lube, and strap-on in your hands.

“You like this?” you ask with a smirk, brandishing the dildo at him.

He nods and bites down on his lip. “Yes, I do.”

“Undress me, would you?” you ask, setting the items down on the bed once he’s had a good look at them. “So I can put those on.”

“…Yes, Mistress,” he says. When he goes to undo the buttons of your clothes, you notice that he seems to be holding back, like he’d rather get you naked right that instant and rip that fabric off your body, but the last time he did that, you’d punished him until he truly felt your displeasure at his destroying your clothes. Not that you didn’t enjoy it, of course, but having to spend mora to replace them was not something you particularly wanted to do.

Soon, you’re left in nothing but your bra, and you halt his hands before they can go to unclasp it.

“This is fine,” you say. “Now…”

You step into the harness and fasten the straps around your hips. The fake cock juts out in front of you, and you give it a few light strokes before taking Zhongli by the hand and leading him to the throne.

“Take off the rest of your clothes,” you instruct him. “You kept it inside, yes?”

With poorly concealed haste, he undoes his belt and pushes down his pants along with his underwear. You suppress a smile when you see his cock bounce out from the confines of the fabric, already rock hard and leaking. As appealing as that sight is, you ask him to turn around, and when he does, you see that he’s still wearing the plug that you asked him to put on that morning.

“Good boy,” you say, caressing his firm ass before giving it a light spank, hard enough to surprise him and make him gasp.

“Your ass looks so good when it’s filled, Rex Lapis,” you tell him, and even with his back to you, you can see his ears turn red. He feels a rush of both shame and arousal at your lewd words and your praise. You stroke over the spot where you’d struck him, and you can see his broad shoulders and muscular back trembling ever so slightly. With your thumbs, you spread his asscheeks to see the plug’s cor lapis base glinting in the light, surrounded by his reddened skin.

“I’m sure you’d rather be filled by something more substantial, hmm…?”

“…Y-Yes.” At his sides, his hands are clenched into fists, and you find it so cute, how eager he is, and how hard he’s trying to hide it and remain composed as he usually is.

“Mmm.” You sit down on the throne again. “Get on your knees,” you say, “and lube this up, we don’t want it going in dry.”

Zhongli kneels, obediently, and licks his lips before opening his mouth and licking a stripe up the dildo. He kisses the tip and takes it in his mouth, his eyelids fluttering prettily over his cheekbones, and you slide a hand into his hair.

“You look so pretty sucking cock,” you praise him, “I wonder what the people of Liyue would think if they saw their god on his knees for a mortal…?”

He squeezes his eyes shut, and even though his mouth is occupied, you can hear the whimper of a moan escape from his throat, the vibrations travelling down your length.

“I don’t think they’d ever expect Rex Lapis to be such a good, submissive pet,” you continue. “But don’t worry, I’m the only one who can see you this way. Isn’t that right?”

He nods as best as he can, while still keeping his mouth on the dildo. You smile, and as you do so, you let your foot creep in between his legs, where his cock stands hard, and rub along it.

“Mmh—!” His hips jolt at the contact, but you keep rubbing the top of your foot along the underside of his dick. The dildo slips from his wet mouth when he gasps, and you click your tongue in displeasure.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.”

“Ah—”

His mouth descends on the toy once again, the flush on his cheeks spreading down to his chest as you keep playing with his cock using your foot, feeling how he grows wet with precum. You grab hold of his hair and force him to take the toy deeper down his throat, and he gags on it, tears springing to his eyes. He lets out a string of garbled moans, and you continue fucking his throat, stroking his dick with your foot.

Soon enough, the strap-on is soaked in his saliva, his eyes hazy and his dick dripping with precum. Once again, you pull him off of you, and lift up your foot.

“You made a mess on me,” you say, observing the wetness on your skin. You tuck your foot under his chin, tilting his head up to meet your eyes. “Be a good pet and clean this up.”

“…” Wordlessly, he leans down and sticks out his tongue to lick his precum off of you. His lips are already red and wet from eating you out and sucking off the dildo, and his pupils wide and dark. Once he’s done, he kisses the top of your foot and you nod, pleased.

“Hold out your hands.”

He does so, and you unstopper the bottle of lube before drizzling some over his fingers. “Prepare yourself.”

He lets out another sigh before reaching down and pulling the plug out of his ass, groaning as it leaves him empty, before swirling his lubed-up fingers around his hole and slipping them inside. “Ah… dearest…” he sighs, his voice huskier than normal.

“You’re doing so well,” you say. “Get yourself nice and wet for me.”

It was mesmerizing, watching his long and slender fingers work themselves in and out of his entrance, hearing his panting breath, and knowing that he wasn’t satisfied with just his hands. His moans were sweet, and his lips wet and glossy from sucking you off.

“It’s… not enough,” he grunts, and he restrains himself from touching his cock. “I-I need your touch, Mistress.”

You keep watching, a smile curving your lips at the needy tone of his voice. He shivers when you don’t respond, and says, “Please—!”

As you watch, you slick up the dildo strapped to you with more lube and let him enjoy himself a little more before ordering him to stop.

“Come here,” you say, “You’ve earned your right to sit on my lap.”

“Thank you, Mistress,” he says, then shakily withdraws his fingers from inside himself. Bracing both knees on the cool stone of the throne, he straddles your lap, hovering over your strap-on.

“Oh?” you ask, noticing his hesitation. “Does my lovely pet need help…?”

“Nnh…” Zhongli’s hands have settled somewhere on the back of the throne, and he drops one to your shoulders, and the other to guide your dick in between his legs.

“I can… do this.”

You smile and lean back, brushing away some of the hair that had fallen into his face. “Go on then, darling. Give your mistress a good show.”

He takes in a deep breath before letting the tip of the toy rub against his entrance, before pushing it in and sinking down onto it slowly. As it enters him, the breath leaves his lips in harsh pants, and this close, you can feel the heat of his skin, and you can see every tremble of his muscles, especially the quivering of his strong thighs, holding up his body weight and spreading to take in the thick dildo you wore.

“You look so cute taking my cock, love,” you say. “I might bring out my Kamera next time we do this.”

“Th-That’s…” He cuts off whatever he was about to say, biting his lip and looking aside. There are still unshed tears sparkling at the corners of his eyes, and the spreading blush is luminescent on his pale skin. You grab his chin, pulling his gaze back to yours, and he lets out a whimper.

“I told you before, this sight of you is only for me, didn’t I?” He nods, unable to escape your gaze. “If I do take pictures of you, they’ll be for my eyes only. Don’t look so embarrassed, love,” you say, cupping his face tenderly with a sweet smile. “Now, move.”

He keeps going down until the dildo is sheathed in him to the hilt and his whole body is trembling from the stimulation. You grab at his hips and his plush ass, squeezing and letting your nails dig in until he keens at the mixed sensations of pleasure and pain.

“Go on,” you urge him, “fuck yourself on this toy, Rex Lapis.”

He moves up once more before sinking back down, a little faster this time, and loud pants escape his lips. His hands are clenching on the back of the throne, on either side of your head, and you can see every little twitch of his body as he spears himself on your strap-on.

“Aahh,” he groans, throwing his head back, “Mistress, please…”

“Go faster, but don’t cum yet.”

When he looks at you his eyes are wild, and he’s desperate to cum. You tighten your grip on him and slam him down on your hips, causing him to scream out in pleasure, and tears to build up in his eyes, threatening to spill as he moves faster, needy moans slipping from his throat. His cock bounces, hard and leaking and untouched, dripping precum on both yours and his stomachs. His deep voice rings in your ears, babbling incoherent noises that are almost your name.

“P-Please,” he begs, fingers white-knuckled on the stone you’re resting on. “I need to c-cum…”

You raise an eyebrow, though you doubt he notices such a small movement right now. “Who are you talking to?”

“Mistress,” he corrects himself. “Please…”

“Please…?”

“Please let me cum!” he gasps, even as his hips continue moving, fucking himself on your lap.

“Just a little more,” you say, denying him his release, and he whines as you lean forward to latch your mouth onto one of his nipples, swirling your tongue around the sensitive bud and driving him to be louder, fraying the little self-control he has left.

The tears spill down his cheeks, now, and his vision is blurry, chasing desperately after his release even when his cock remains untouched. Your mouth on his chest is quickly unraveling him, and he doesn’t want to disappoint you, but he’s so close and you haven’t given him permission, yet.

“Close,” he cries, “I’m close, Mistress, please…”

He’s crying, and he looks so pretty, undone on your lap like this, getting fucked silly on his own throne, so you decide to take pity on him and grant him his wish.

You reach up and let him encircle his arms around you, grounding him to your body. “Cum,” you murmur in his ear, and seize his chin and swallow his screams in a searing kiss as he cums untouched, his release landing on your chest and stomach. He whimpers into your mouth as his arms hug around your neck, clutching onto you as his shaking legs keep driving the dildo into him throughout his orgasm.

After several breathless moments he finally settles down on your lap, the toy still inside him, and cum splattered on both your fronts, and some even dripping down onto the throne. You pepper light kisses along his cheeks and lips as he catches his breath, helping him to calm down.

“You came a lot, Zhongli,” you say, amused and rather pleased at the intensity of your husband’s climax. “Were you this excited all day…?”

Even taller than you, he hides his face in the crook of your neck, and you laugh, knowing that he’s blushing at your teasing.

“I could not get you out of my mind all day, my love,” he confesses, “especially not with that inside me… and what you asked of me…”

You lean back in the Geo Archon’s throne, bringing Zhongli with you to rest on your chest. “Did you like this?”

Biting his lip, he nods. “…Yes. I had… not expected to be using my throne in such a way. But…” You thread your fingers through his hair, now messy and undone, and the motion soothes him. “I would not be averse to using it again.”

“That’s good to hear, my dear,” you say, and kiss him on the forehead. “I will take care of you, my love. Don’t worry."

#zhongli x reader #sub!zhongli #genshin impact #zhongli #genshin x reader #genshin smut #fanfiction #zhongli x you

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woman-with-no-name · 3 years

Text

Dutch van der Linde x f!reader

Title: Affection

A/N: Wrote this because I was in a weird mood. I was really inspired by this post I saw about men getting to experience non sexual intimacy for the first time. Idk how to link on mobile, sorry! English is not my native language so don't judge me too hard :) Not proof read so excuse any stupid mistakes.

Warnings: Angst. Some fluff. Not really any smut. Soft Dutch.

Story under the cut.

"How about a treat tonight?" You wait for an answer from Dutch but he seems to be deep in thought. You walk up to the cot where he has been sitting for what it seems like an eternity.

You touch his shoulder to get his attention and he raises his eyebrows at you. "I'm sorry dear, did you say something?"

"Let's go to a hotel tonight." You pat his shoulder. "With a bath in the room. What do you say?"

He gets a hold of your hand and leaves a small kiss on the tips of your fingers. Your gaze lingers on his face. The exhaustion is more than visible in eyes. "Whatever you want, my darling." But nevertheless, he smiles. Hiding the pain, as always.

You left camp at sundown. The ride to the closest hotel was short but sweet, and it was nice to be finally alone, away from prying eyes. You arrive at the small hotel and take the nicest room they had. You will be staying for only one night, so you wanted to make the best of your time together. You walk up the stairs, Dutch following closely behind you. He opens the door for you, and you both enter the neatly furnished room, with a big bed, a small dresser, a chair, and a already filled tub sitting in the middle of a fur rug. You both get a bit more comfortable, he hangs his jacket on the chair, you kick your boots off, and sit on the bed. You watch him move around the room, searching for a place to leave his hat on.

"My, my, dear, if we weren't already involved, seeing the way you look at me, I just might assume you like me." He chuckles.

You smile at his remark and stand up.

"Well, someone has to."

"Very funny, miss."

You place your hands on his chest, feeling his warmth under the silky fabric of his vest.

"Now, let's get you in the tub before the water cools off."

"Me? You won't join me?"

"I will, but later. Come on. Dutchy. Let me take care of you." You tease him, slowly unbuttoning his vest.

"I'm not the one that should be taken care of...". He flirts, and tries to get a hold of your waist. But his words pain you, you see the deeper meaning behind them. He genuinely feels like that. He's not the one that gets care, rather the one that is expected to give it, no matter what. It's what a good leader does, right?

You poke his chest with your index finger, keeping his wandering hands away from you. "Get. In."

He raises his hands in defeat. "Alright, just don't shoot me."

He starts taking by taking of his shirt and then the rest of his clothes. You smile at your small victory, and bring the chair behind the tub. You turn your back at him and search for a matchbox in your satchel. The light of day was going away quickly. A candle would be helpful. The sound of splashing water distracts you from the lit match in your fingers as you were bringing it to the wick.

"How romantic." He states with one leg already in the tub, feeling the water. He looked absolutely mesmerising. His torso toned and firm, but not too much, just the perfect amount. Strong arms at his sides. A light trail of dark hair leading all the way to...

"Oouch! Fuck!" You hiss and suck on your burned fingers as you throw the match on the floor. "Goddamnit, get in there you devil! Ugh!"

He bursts out laughing at you, the deep tone almost shaking the room.

He finally settles in the tub and you sit behind him.

"You forgot something." You rise from the chair and stand beside the tub. You hold out your hand to him. He looks at it, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Give me your hand."

He stares at you and then finally lifts his hand from the water and puts it in your, much smaller one. You hold his palm with one hand, as you start to take of his rings with your other one. You slide the lion one first and then the big D. As you take them off you realize that you never saw him like his before, without anything, even his rings, completely bare. You hold them and walk up to the dresser. You take out and open your handheld mirror, and place the rings on the base of it, just as you do with your own jewelry so you don't lose it. You go back to the chair.

"You know, I still have no idea why won't you get in here with me." He sounds slightly annoyed but masks it.

"Just, let me do this... Okay?"

You start patiently running your fingers down his hair to untangle the curled ends. Strand by strand, you seperate the raven locks. He is tense as you do this. You can't see his face but you feel the the tension in the air. His shoulders refusing to go slack against the tub.

"I'm not a child, you know." You ignore him.

"Lean a bit forward, love." He hesitates but obeys in the end. You gently cup the warm water and pour it over his head, keeping one hand on his forehead to stop any of the soapy water to get in his eyes. His hair is completely wet now, you admire the color that you didn't think could get even darker. You start to rub some more soap in your hands. He takes the hint of what's next and leans back against the tub, resting his arms on the edges of it. You start to massage his scalp, spreading the vanilla soap down the length of his hair. Your hands run down to his neck and over his broad shoulders. His grips the edges.

You begin to feel uneasy, he's being awfully quiet, and if anything, he was rearely silent, not if he felt good, not with you. You don't know if you are simply boring him or he's just unaffected by your administrations. You compose yourself and decide to continue with your plan, to make him feel your love. Even though he can't see you, you smile behind him, you stare at the back of his head, you mind wanders and deep in thought you close your eyes, and barely stop yourself from weeping out loud of how happy you are to have him by your side, how it hurts you to see him burdened, how you want him to know that you will be there, no matter what.

You rub the wetness from your eyes with the back of your hand and lift your gaze. You let out a small embarrassed gasp as you finally notice the view in the small pocket mirror you left resting on top of the dresser. His reddened eyes, and the tear stains down his cheeks. He's looking right at you.

You bring your face next to his, cupping his cheek, and hold him close. He closes his eyes, and fresh tears roll down to melt in your skin.

"It's okay, it's okay..." You whisper, and gently kiss his cheek.

"I don't deserve you."

"Yes. Yes, you do. Don't ever forget that."

...

#i just needed to give him some love heh #one shot #dutch van der linde #or is this called a drabble?#i have no idea #rdr2 #dutch x reader #dutch van der linde x reader #red dead redemption 2 #red dead 2 #rdr2 fanfiction #dutch van der linde x f!reader #rdr2 fanfic #my writing

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ashestospace-fics · 3 years

Text

Greedy for you

Characters: Mammon x MaleReader

Warning: E/NSFW

Minors dni or I'll personally call your parents

Tags: TopReader,praising kink, Mammon being a little bratty, dry humping, demonic female and Male genetelia description and penetration

It was frustrating, Mammon felt like he was going to combust at any moment as he watched you with cross arms and a pout. It's been like this for almost a whole week, the rest of his brothers have been sweeping you away and taking you away from him. He couldn't spend five minutes without someone interrupted and he felt like throwing a fit, he wanted your attention! He wanted you to cuddle him and pay attention to only him. After all, he's your first pact, your first man, he clearly more important and comes first than the rest. So why are you spending more time with Levi than him right now?!

He just happens to be looking for you, not finding you in your room already this late at night. He was in the search until he heard your voice downstairs in one of the living rooms. He peeks slowly, spotting you with the 3rd brother setting the t.v, both of you talking about one of Levi's many animes as he let you do the fixing. Head duck down behind the t.v as you turn it on. Mammon almost wanted to pull you down the legs and drag you out when you lifted your shirt to whip the sweat out of your face, causing both demons to blush slightly at the sudden expose skin. What was enough to tic the Greedy demon off was that you wink back at Levi when you notice him blushing. Now he just HAD to intervene.

"OI! human! Get up!" He exclaims as he darted over to you. Grabbing you by the arm and pulling you up to the ground.

"Wow, okay, what is it now Mammon?" You blurt out seeing his frustrated expression.

He slams the door behind you, letting go of your wrist to flop down on your bed as he stretches his whole body over. A huff leaving him as he threw his arms around like a fish out of water frustrated as he felt your eyes on you.

"Hey wait a minute! He's helping me out here for game night" Levi exclaim backed.

"don't care, later Nerd" Mammon practically dragged you out the living room by the shirt. You could only mouth a 'Sorry I'll see you later' to Levi as you got dragged away. The whole way back to your room Mammon refuse to respond to you. Mumbling to himself who knows what, that just kept you, even more, confused at his sudden behavior.

"well are you gonna keep gawking like a fish or you gonna tell me what's up?" You casually responded as you made your way over to him. He stops thrashing around as he looked up at you with a frown.

"It's late and I need ya" he blurts out tugging your arm.

".....you haven't been spending time with me..." He mumbled out, his eyebrow twitch as he sat up pointing at you. "So I demand you to watch a movie with me! Right now on your shitty laptop", you blink a few times as you stare at him, a small sigh leaving your lips as you made your way into the bed as you drag your laptop out of your nightstand. You knew you weren't paying much attention to him this week, so it didn't surprise you he was throwing a fit.

"Alright, alright, no need to be acting like a brat. You should have just told me how you were feeling sooner" you replied, opening the laptop as you sat behind your pile of pillows. He just pouted at you, his cheeks turning light red once you patted your lap. Mammon didn't think twice as he crawls over to you, making a home between your thighs as he brought your blankets up to cover both of you.

A satisfied smile dance on his lips as he snuggled closer to your chest. One of your legs moving over his as you wrap your arms around his waist as you lean back. Soon enough whatever bickering remark he had to try arguing with you faded away at your warmth. A deep sigh left him as he presses his ear against your chest as his eyes focus on the movie. This is just what he wanted, you all of himself wrap around your arms secure and safe. None of his brothers around, no silly business, just the sound of your heart and breathing and the occasional laughter from your deep voice from a funny scene on screen. It was just perfect, that is until his other sense became hyper-aware of other things.

Sure it's been simply a week since you two hang out properly, but it's been way longer since you two slept together. Mammon really couldn't help feeling needy at the sudden thought of you pinning him down, stuffing him full. He could feel his cheeks heat up as he shifted on his spot. Bitting down his lip as he tried taking his attention back to the screen. The feeling of your crotch right against his ass now a bit more noticeable than when you two started the movie.

But hell how could he? Every gentle caress of his side from your large fingers, a simple innocent touch was stirring him up so easily. Mammon couldn't help it, he couldn't help moving his hips up and down so slowly against you. His hand holding into your thigh as he could feel your length against the fabric of your sweat pants. The idea of getting caught now and question only started to fueled in his arousal and threw away any little care he had from just spending quiet time with you. Now his head was aiming for something much more, greedy little devil wanted something much more now.

Your own eyes had already left the screen as soon as Mammon started shifted on top of you. The slow grind of his ass against you now having your complete attention as you pretended not to notice yet. Your free hand reaching over to munch away on some candy you had in a bowl. The other hand that was on his side trail under his shirt and hold into his waist. A shaky breath passes Mammon's lips as he grinded back harder against your half-hardened cock. The low chuckle that left your throat made him look up with flush cheeks. You pop another piece of candy into your lips.

"greedy little boy are you? You want me so bad for yourself today huh?" You laugh even more as he turns around to smack your chest. Embarrassment running all over his face as he straddles your hips as he pouted at you.

"Don't blame me! You have been spending time with those losers instead of me!" He protested. You only smile innocently at his pout as both your hands hold onto his waist.

"I'm sorry, but you know I try my best right? After all, I'm the one cleaning after you dorks" he huff as he rested his forehead against yours. His cheeks getting darker as his eyes looked down.

"I know..., But come on, I'm your man! I want more time with you" you place a hand on his cheek, making him look back up at you with a more flustered expression at your tendered one.

"I know I know, so greedy for me, I promise I'll make more time for you" you mumble out between kissing his heated cheeks.

"Why don't I make it up to you? Hm? Give my needy boy a little reward and a treat?" You added as he trail kisses his neck. A whine leaving Mammon as you grinded up against him. He eagerly grinded back as he holds on to your shoulders.

"T-that doesn't s-sound..so bad-oh!" He jolted at the feeling of your tight dig down into his skin, making him release a sweet whimper as you licked the spot you bite down on. Lips sucking on the tender flesh and letting it go with a pop.

"yeah? You think you can hump against me and cum just by that?" You asked as you pulled away. A smirk danced on your face as he grinded more desperately at your suggestion.

"w-wha-no! P-please, don't tease me like that, I want you to touch me" he protested, making sure to grind hard down against your erection. Feeling the wet spot already forming on his crotch as he panted heavily. The friction was already too good for the greedy demon, letting his own body take control even if he wanted to go further. His eyes flutter close as your hands rip him of his jacket and shirt, a shaky breath leaving Mammon as your thumb rub circles in his perk nipples before trailing down.

"look at that, all wet and messy already? Such a needy boy Mammon" you chuckled at the whine he let escape. His hips jerked up as the rough pad of your finger rubbed against the slit of cunt.

" M-Mmh shut u-up, I can-cant help it" he whine loudly when you push him to lay on his back. Eyes almost glossy as he lifted his hips for you. Ripping him from his pants easily, his erection stood tall along with the whole damp that trail up to the tip of his cock and down to his silky cunt that was still cover by his boxers. Mammon couldn't help but to look away bashfully, a part of him always embarrass with the hungry expression you always gave him, but also with how vulnerable and small you always made him feel in these moments.

"p-please...please MC..." He begged quietly, hissing as your hand trail up to pump his length. You trail down to kiss his cheek softly before nipping at the heated skin.

"really? Cause you don't seem that far from cumming with how hard you're humping my cock"

"Okay, okay Baby, be good for me now and I'll give you everything you want.." you chuckled again. Your eyes locking with Mammon as you strip from your clothes, the sigh sending another wave of heat to Mammon's core as his dick twitch at the sight. Once pull your sweat pants down and expose your cock it was enough for him to let out a whimper at the sight. It was so hard and twitching that he could feel the heat radiating from beneath you, causing his hips to grind up into nothing.

"shh, shh I know baby boy" you cooed as you rip him from his boxers. Now it was your turn to feel light-headed at the sight. Even after so many times you always felt taken back at the big difference in demon anatomy, or in this case genitalia. It wasn't that big or too thick but the shape sure was interesting, small curving bumps like a horn. The color bright yellow and the tip almost turning white. While the slit around it was dripping into a darker shade of yellow mustard as his cunt clench around nothing, a too-familiar little bundle of nerves on top that also begged for your attention.

It took almost all of you to rip your eyes away as Mammon started squirming under your gaze. He was getting uncomfortably wetter by your harsh gaze. It was all too tempting for you to just dive down and take him in your mouth but knowing how needy he was now it was no time for teasing or foreplay. Your hands gently rubbed his knees and thighs as you align yourself against his entrance. Rubbing yourself against his folds earning the sweetest moan of your name as he hooked his legs around your waist.

Pushing yourself in slowly had both of you groaning loudly at the wonderful stretch, Mammon could feel each pulsating vein of your cock dragging against his spongy walls as he bottoms you out completely. Both of you panting heavily against each other before you lean down to capture his lips into a gentle kiss. Mammon's hands making their way around your neck as you sucked on his lips and letting them go with a pop. Slowly trying to calm down his breathing as you let him get comfortable. You brought your hips back before thrusting back in hard. Making the demon harsh his back as he let out a scream of pleasure, your hips grinding against him as you felt your eyes almost rolled back with how hard he was clenching down on you.

"m-me too baby, touch yourself no-now before I cum into your little cunt" you pulled back any self of control to not come at the dumb fucked look he had in his face as his hand shakily reach down to pump his length desperately. Mouth agape and drool passing his lips as he watches where both your bodies are connected. It was he needed to finally jump over the edge and cum all over his stomach and chest as you kept jackhammering into him. One of your hands reaching under his knee to hold it up as you gave one last thrust and painted his walls white. The demon let out a dragged-out whine as his body twitches at the feeling of being filled up. His body finally giving out and falling limp as he panted for air. You follow along and panted heavily, pulling out of him slowly to look at the mess you both did of your poor Bed.

"s-so close, right there! O-oh fuck I'm so close-" Mammon's eyes crossed as his head fell back.

You let out a low groan at the pulsating feeling of his walls trying desperately to hold you in place as his voice started to become horse with how much he was screaming now. Hitting the bundle of nerves inside of him that has his toes curling.

"hmm, good boy" you breathe out patting his twitching thighs as your other hand rubbed the tears that form in his eyes.

"h-hm fuck, such a good boy taking my cock so well" you growled out, starting a heavy pace. Both your hands resting beside his head as you let your weight fall into him with each hard thrust. It didn't take long before Mammon was moaning his head off as you turn his brain into goo. Each drag of his walls against your cock sending sweet shocking electricity all over his body. Chanting your name almost like a prayer as he holds on to you for dear life. His cunt milking you off every time you pulled back to slam into him, your sheets already soaked with how much he was leaking.

You ran a hand across your sweaty forehead as you threw the blankets to the side as you stood up and grab a few water bottles. Opening it up for Mammon to take. Brushing off the sweaty hair of his face as he sighs at the gentle touch.

"does my greedy demon want to take a shower with me?" You gently asked as he drank down the whole bottle in one go. A small smile on his face as he looked up at you.

"you know the answer to that"

#obey me x male reader #Obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me smut #obey me x mc #mammon swd #mammon x male reader #mammon x reader #swd mammon #obey me mammon #obey me hc #obey me

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fell-into-silence · 2 years

Text

After the plaza closes down for the day Gregory and Freddy decide to show off the neat new Fazbear jacket (referred in a different post) but in an unorthodox way.

Freddy spotted Chicka jamming out in her room through her glass window watching for a moment as her head banged to the beat of her song. He walked up to the glass, gently knocking on it and motioning to her with a wave when she happened to glance up. He made a motion to her door and setting aside her instrument she gave him a thumbs up and walked over to it. Circling around to the door Freddy grinned as it slid open and Chicka cheerfully greeted him-stepping aside to let him in. “Hi Freddy! Making one last round?” She got a nod in response and watched the bear walk further in to stand in the middle of her room. She glanced back at the empty spot by the door and tilted her head at her friend. “Is Gregory with you? It’s almost dinner time.” Normally by now Freddy would have headed towards one of the diners with his boy to have some pizza or try some of the other menu items and excitedly exchange how their day had been; it had become a bit of a ritual for the rest of the gang to show up around then and hang out with them so it was a little surprising to see Freddy stopping by at this time. “About that...there’s something he wanted to show you-Are you ready superstar?” He gently tapped at his stomach hatch and got one back in response. “I’m ready!” And in an instant Gregory leapt out with the hood of his new fuzzy coat pulled over his head. “Tadaaaa! Do you like it?” The boy spun around in a circle and struck a pose-watching as Chicka’s eyes lit up. “Oh jelly bean-you’re absolutely ADORABLE! Let me have a closer look!” She scooped him up and rested him on her hip, holding him with one arm as she examined the fabric with her free hand. “It’s stitching is sturdy and the fabric is soo soft! You’re the cutest baby bear I’ve ever seen ♥️!” Gregory could see the proud expression on his papa bears face from the corner of his vision and felt his own face flush, shyly hiding it in Chicka’s shoulder. “Thank you! It’s really comfortable but I like it most of all because it looks like papa bear.” Chicka felt as though she were about to melt into a puddle...she glanced over at her best friend and giggled-seeing that he practically was himself. “How about we get some grub in you huh? There’s this new Fazburger I’m sure you’ll love! And we can show off your new threads too-I can’t wait to see the look on Roxy’s face!” Gregory excitedly threw his hands up with a whooping sound and eagerly chattered back to her. As the two became locked into a heated conversation Chicka turned and motioned Freddy to follow her as she continued to carry Gregory and lead the way out of her room. Freddy wordlessly followed after just as eager to listen to their bouncy chatter, he stared fondly at his superstars face as it lit up and his eyes sparkled. For the briefest moment his vision had changed...the ghostly image of a different face had appeared; the same chestnut hair was scruffier, chocolate orbs a little darker with scattered freckles over tear streamed cheeks- “Hey papa-wouldn’t that be cool?!” Freddy quickly blinked a couple times and all at once he was met with the wide, curious eyes of his cub. “Oh, yes, that would be wonderful!” He replied and internally sighed with relief as Gregory beamed and continued gabbing to his aunt. He felt a strange sensation, a dull aching pull deep within his soul and held a clutching hand to his chest. The memory of the past still lingering deep within his new, ageless frame...

(Hey superstars, if you’d like me to continue further with the other bots reactions let me know with a big juicy bite of that like button! ♥️ there is still so much more ideas I have for the ssau to share if y’all are willing to listen. Thank you for reading this far!)

#fnaf security breach #fnaf sb au idea #sb gregory #the glamrocks #glamrock Freddy #shooting stars au #ssau #sbss short story #sbss au #glamrock chicka #security breach #fnaf gregory #fnaf glamrock freddy #fnaf glamrock chicka #tranquil writes

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hotchnerxo · 3 years

Text

Our Past Life: Chapter 5 (18+)

Masterlist

Pairing: Aaron hotchner x fem!reader

Summary: This one is SMUT! (Minors, do not interact!) You and Aaron can't keep your hands off of each other any longer. Contains: fingering, oral ( fem receiving), protected sex, cursing, praise kink and probably else something I have forgotten to mention.

Words: 3.6k

A/N: This is my first attempt to write Smut. Let me know what you think! I'm lowkey proud of this chapter tho.

You could barely sit still, knowing that Hotch was close by. It’s been 24 minutes, and you know the man hates being late more than anything. Why were you this excited? You can’t remember the last time you’ve had butterflies in your stomach over a man. Especially after barely being in contact with Hotchner the past 10 years, it was weird how excited you were to see him and be close to him after he was gone for just two days.

A knock on the oor made you hop up and open the door, faster than you intended to. You noticed a slight shock on his face when you opened. “Good timing” you smile “I hope you don’t mind I ordered for you.”

God, he looks good. Standing in the doorway in his well fitted suit, white shirt perfectly tucked in matching gray slacks. His tie was loosened a bit around his neck. He had a small smile on his lips, a smile that could light up the whole town. You lean in to hug him. You don’t consider yourself small, but feeling his arms around you, they made you feel tiny. His palms pressed on your back as yours are wrapped around his waist. You rest your chin on his shoulder for a moment and you swear you can hear his heartbeat. Hearing it made you smile as you realized your own wasn’t the only one beating so fast.

“That’s totally fine. I’m starving” the man said and pulled away from the hug slowly. You move out of his way and let him inside. Aaron closed the door behind him, and walked a step behind you. You feel him landing his hand on your lower back and it sends shivers down your spine. The pressure felt possessive, yet gentle. “What did you order?”

“Gourmet only” you walk towards the counter inside the small room and take a brown bag from there and turn to the man, a wide smirk on your face.

Aaron laughed and it made your heart so full. “Wendy’s?” He raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t a huge fan of fast food, he actually likes cooking himself. And whenever he orders takeout in the office or at home, he loves Chinese food and sushi. But he definitely doesn’t turn it down. It’s been awhile since he’s had Wendy’s. And he does remember going to the Wendy's together years ago, after a test or a long study session. Aaron takes his suit jacket off and tosses it and his tie on the back of the chair. He takes a seat on the bed and rolls the sleeves of his shirt.

You find yourself staring at him, and the way his shirt basically hugs his toned body. The shirt was perfectly ironed, but for sure was worn all day. You could have whined as he put his tie down, you had a couple of ideas to use it. His pants were secured on his waist with a brown belt and the fabric was tight on his legs and ass as he sat down and you noticed yourself holding your breath. You hand him the bag and sit down next to him.

“Do I have something on my face?” His face was stern but there was something, almost smug, in his expression. You feel yourself blushing and it got a reaction out of him. Yeah, he definitely was smug. He had dug out one of the burger’s you had ordered and was peeling the paper wrapper around it, but barely taking his eyes off of you. Without waiting for you to answer his previous question, he asks about your day and bites into his burger.

You went to tell him about your adventures so far in New York, how much you had enjoyed walking in Central Park and how you wish to see the garden. The awesome cafe’s you had visited, restaurants and you met a few fans. Entertainer life is a polar opposite to Hotchner’s day to day life. You make people laugh for a living. His own a lot darker, crude and dangerous. He hangs on to your every word and the excitement in your eyes. He was very fascinated by it all. Asking small questions about details made you so happy, because he was truly listening to you as he was eating. Talking with him felt so effortless. Maybe that’s why he’s so good at his job? He’s so easy to talk to but also his stare can make the toughest criminals squirm.

You feel like you’ve been talking forever and you’re dying to hear about his week as well “But anyway! How was your day? How was the case?” you ask, turning your attention to the man next to you.

"My stories are not as exciting as yours are '' Aaron said with a sad smile. "for sure, usually not fun either." He wasn't used to talking about his day with anyone, and would like to avoid it. You didn't say anything, just continued eating your burger and staring at him as if his point was irrelevant. To you, it was. You want to hear it all, the good, the bad, the boring and everything in between. With a sigh, Aaron shared a little bit about the case they were on. You didn't seem bothered, but continued to listen as the dark haired man spoke. You notice how highly he speaks of his team. "And thanks to Garcia, we managed to get the final information we needed to catch the guy".

"Garcia was the colorful one, right?" It made you smile thinking back to the lady you met at the office and you believe that woman is rarely forgotten. Aaron nodded for confirmation. "She was so lovely" You smiled.

"That she is. She is one of the kindest people out there, and always looking at cute animal pictures to balance out the bad pictures of work. And I wanna make sure that she doesn't change because of the work, I don't want the world to lose that joy." A small silence filled the room as you two finished your meals, only a quiet rustle of paper wrappers as the food inside of them was gone. With a chuckle he continued " It's funny to think back to the way she ended up with the bureau ''. you tilt your head slightly, asking him to elaborate. "She hacked the bureau, just out of boredom. But she never meant to harm anyone. And for that reason, I offered her the job, so she could use her skills for good and helping people. And since then, she's been one of the good guys with us".

"I love that" you stated. A part of you zoned out as he was talking, just staring at his lips as he spoke. The formed lines on his face, showing that he wasn't the same 20 year old you used to know; showing a serious side of him, the stress and the struggles he has to handle at his work.

But the spark. The spark in the man's eyes was still there. Maybe not as bright as it used to be as the eyes have seen some horrendous stuff, not to mention everything he has gone through himself. But it was still there. And the dimples on his cheeks made your heart flutter. Something tells you that he hasn't truly smiled in a long time, but seeing the smile on his face right now was all you could imagine.

You pack the trash inside of the bag and get up to put it in the bin. For his surprise, you turn back to him quickly and straddle him, now sitting on his lap. You wrap your arms around his neck, fingers in his soft, dark hair. He wasn’t surprised for long, and raised his arms to your body. You felt his large palm on your left thigh, the other on your lower back. It felt so natural, as if there wasn’t over a decade between you. His touch is enough to make you high and you feel an electric excitement running through you. His eyes grew dark and you could feel his breath now on you. You hover your lips over his, your nose lightly touches his and you can hear him hum. Aaron’s whiskey colored eyes are piercing, looking right into your soul, his gaze only distracted for seconds at a time as he looks at your lips. “If I kissed you right now, I don’t think I’d be able to stop” You whisper and his fingers slightly trace the skin on your thigh. His hand on your back is firm and strong. You look at him, as if you’ve never seen him before.

Aaron tries to kiss you but you pull back, just an inch. You want to tease him a little and you see something spark in his eyes. His fingers dig in your skin, as to make sure you’re not able to pull back again and his lips finally meet yours.

And you were right. There was no way you could stop now.

He kisses deep, so passionate that if you weren’t so secured in his arms, you would fall. You feel like your body is total jello, yet most alert it’s been in a long time. A small moan escapes you and Aaron was clearly smiling into the kiss. The excitement runs in your body and you feel heat rising up inside of you. His hand slips under your blouse, lightly brushing your back. Aaron breaks the kiss, and gestures to get your shirt off. You obey seamlessly, tossing your shirt to the corner of the room. “Gosh (Y/N), you look beautiful” he breathes. He can’t get his eyes off of you, as if he was eating you up with his eyes.

His voice is enough to make you wet, and as you straddle his lap, you can tell the front of his pants are getting tight as well. His right hand finds its way to your bra. He touches it as if he’s afraid he’ll break it. “Are you sure this is okay?” he asks, raising his eyes from your breasts to meet your eyes. It warms your heart that he’s making sure of it, as if it wasn’t so clear. You nod. “Use your words, sweetheart” Sweetheart? you tilt your head, absolutely short circuiting of the pet name.

“Absolutely”

They were the only words he needed. His hand gropes your breast and his lips meet the sensitive skin on your neck. Planting wet, hot kisses along the length of your neck, tasting every inch of it, lowering down all the way to your breasts. You raise yourself on your knees, to give him more access. You could groan at the loss of friction between your legs, but his attention is more than enough to keep you satisfied. Effortlessly, he opens the bra, helping you get it off. Without missing a beat, he brushes his thumb against your right nipple, brushing circles around it. He’s used to multitasking, you chuckle in your head as you feel his tongue making contact with the left one, as if he doesn’t want it to feel left out.

“Oh, Aaron” you moan. It only makes him hungrier, flicking your nipple with his tongue. If you were wet before, you’re now absolutely soaked. His hand opens the button on your jeans and works his way up to meet your lips again.

“I’ve missed you so much” he whispers in your ear. You have been so amazed by the attention he’s been giving you, that you have completely forgotten that your own body works. And now you’re dying to see him, to feel him and just get all of him, all yours.

“Prove it” you tease. His eyes are dark with lust and need. He raises an eyebrow, asking what you mean. “Show how much you’ve missed me”.

The next thing you know, you feel the bed on your back and Aaron’s now on top of you. He really is as strong as he looks, you think. “Aaron, I wanna see you” you demand, gesturing at his shirt. He sits on his knees, towering over you. He’s unbuttoning his white shirt as fast as he can, but what feels like it’s taking forever. “I need you, Aaron.”

“Words, sweetheart.” he growls.

“I..Oh, Aaron I need you” you weren’t sure what exactly you were so desperate for. You were just desperate for anything that had to do with the man on top of you. He got rid of his shirt and just the sight of his bare torso in front of you got you breathless. You were right, he looked so much better like this, even if you’re not sure how that was possible. He looks strong and muscular. Broad. You can’t help but smile, it all feels like a dream. Like a fantasy you’ve been having for years. You see the impressive bulge in his pants and you want to touch him so bad. You palm him through his pants and get a hiss out of him. You go to unbuckle his belt, but he stops you.

“Getting desperate, huh?” he grins and the way he’s acting smug is so hot for you. He swiftly takes off your jeans and panties. You gasp as you feel his hand brushing your inner thigh and finding its way to the lips, and slowly rubbing circles around your clit. His hands are rough, yet so soft at the same time. “You’re so wet already, and I’ve barely touched you” you don’t have time to answer because he slips one of his fingers inside of you. You pull him into a deep kiss. You can’t help but moan as he continues to rub your sensitive nub and curl his finger as he pumps his fingers inside of you. You feel yourself blathering but aren’t sure if it’s anything coherent. He takes out his finger and you whimper. “Don’t worry, sweetheart” he kisses your neck and works his way down; all the way down.

The burning inside of you is getting overwhelming and intense as you feel his tongue on your slit. “Oh my, Aaron” you breathe “that feels so good, baby” The word slips out before you even notice it yourself. You feel him stopping for a second. You try to word out an apology for saying that, as just days before you were talking about not rushing into anything. And yet, here you are, calling him ‘baby’.

His raspy voice stops you: “say it again”. He doesn’t lift his head as he speaks. The tone is almost enough to be the end of you, bringing you closer to climax.

“What?”

“Say it again. I wanna hear you say it” he demands.

“It feels so good, baby” you moan and feel a different kind of passion in his work “baby, I need you so bad”. His hands and fingers dig deeply in your hips, trying to hold you put as he works his magic, licking your clit in the perfect rhythm, curling the tip of his tongue the right way. It all gets too much and you feel the pressure overflowing in your stomach and you climax. He slows down, clearly proud of himself. Your head is spinning and you’re sure you’re seeing stars. Your heart feels like it's coming out of your chest and breathing is heavy as if you’ve just ran a marathon. The warm kisses on your stomach and chest are grounding you down, back to the moment.

“Good job sweetheart” you love the way he praises you, appreciates you and helps you down from your high. You taste yourself on his lips and feel yourself getting so turned on again. This time as you go for his belt, he doesn’t stop you. A part of you feels bad for him, being restrained in such tight looking pants. Whenever you even slightly brush against the bulge, you feel him moan to the kiss. You’re so excited to make him feel good and special, just as he’s been doing to you. You gesture for him to take off his pants, and he does as he’s told, as efficiently as he can, without breaking his contact with you. His eyes roaming around your body, as if he wants to remember every last detail of it. As you see his length, a part of you is overwhelmed yet you feel yourself soaking again. You take his dick in your hand and start rubbing him slowly, getting little curses out of him. They encourage you to go on, faster. Pre-cum runs down his thick length and you can tell he isn’t far away from his pleasure. You reach to the nightstand and hand him a condom, wrapped in foil.

“You just happened to have these at the night stand huh?” He teases, opens the package with his teeth and rolls it on.

“One can always dream, right? There’s nothing wrong with being prepared for everything” you wink.

The weight of him on top of you felt incredible. But instead of staying there, he gets on his knees and gently, yet firmly pulls you up with him. His hands on your back, he gestures to you to straddle him again. Without hesitation, you understand his gestures. As if you’ve done this million times before. One of his hands stays on your back, the other comes up to your neck, tangled up in your hair. He plans kisses on your collarbone and positions himself. With force, he pushes you down on him, his length now all in you. “Dirty girl” he whispers to your ear, looking deep in your eyes. The lust in his eyes, warmth of his breath and the tone of his voice feel incredible.

You scream his name, throwing away the care of someone hearing you. “Oh my god” you hiss. The way he fills you completely, it feels perfect. Like you two were designed for each other. Right at this moment, you totally believe in the universe, bringing you together again. That this is how it’s meant to be.

He gives you a moment to adjust “good Oh my god, or not so good Oh my god?” he asks gently, wanting to make sure he isn’t hurting you.

“Good, absolutely. Gosh baby, you feel so good” you blurt out, your head leaning back, giving the man perfect access to your neck. He doesn’t miss his chance to kiss and suck on this new area. He doesn’t suck hard enough to leave a mark, but a part of you wishes he did. “I need you, Aaron”.

“What do you need, sweet girl?” the hand that’s tangled up in your hair, pulls you into a passionate kiss, leaving you breathless.

“Aaron. Please” you’re desperate “I need you. You feel so good. Baby, I need you to fuck me. I want to feel more of you. I want to make you feel good”

He lowers one of his hands and cups your ass. With his hands guidance, you raise up a little bit, only to lower down back to his cock in a second. He curses under his breath, making you do that again, faster. “Fuck (Y/N)” The way your bodies rub together, skin on skin, it didn’t feel close enough. His abs against your stomach, his chest against yours, his face buried on your neck, you feel yourself crumbling down in his arms. “Oh (Y/N) you drive me crazy. Fuck, you feel so good, so tight. Perfect. Good job sweetheart”. His praise was enough to send you over the edge, again. You know he isn’t far behind, as he curses against your skin as you clench around him.

You love how he takes complete control, you’re trying to stay up on him. His arms are securing your position, holding you close to him as he chases his own orgasm. He loses his rhythm as he’s close and one more firm thrust sends him over the edge. You love the way your name comes out of him so naturally as he comes, the same way you scream his. As if it’s the only name out there, the only name ever used.

The kisses become more gentle and slow, both of you are breathing hard, hearts beating faster than a race car. It’s hard to believe you haven’t been together in years, because it’s almost too good to be true. You’ve never had a partner like this. You’ve never had a partner care so much about your pleasure, not to mention make you cum twice before coming themselves. Not to mention the first time with a partner.

Both of you catching your breath, he moves enough to come out of you. He kisses you deeply one more time “Good job, sweet girl”.

A part of you doesn’t want to get up yet, but you feel like getting cleaned up. You grab his white shirt off of the floor and put it on. You kiss the man’s sweaty cheek and excuse yourself to the bathroom. His smile is warm and blissful. He takes the condom off and watches you leave to the bathroom. He wasn’t sure if he’s heart felt exhausted over the exercise or the feeling he finds himself having towards you.

You get cleaned up calmly. Your body feels exhausted and so alive at the same time. The reflection of his shirt on you gets your attention, and you find yourself thinking:

I’m officially a goner. I have fallen for this man.

#aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner #thomas gibson #hotch #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x y/n #hotch smut

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punkrockmads · 3 years

Text

Rough Day

Abby Anderson x Fem! Reader

Requested by @vultureinajumpsuit

Summary: When your time of the month comes a little early and leaves you extremely emotional, Abby does her best to remind you she's there for you through every struggle... even the most embarrassing ones.♡

"Jesus Christ. Owen, please shut up." You grumble, resting your head on the cafeteria table. You stare down at your shoes, blinking back tears. Owen has been going on for hours about the same abandoned restaurant he found a few days ago and it's starting to frustrate you.

"Alright then." Owen says, rolling his eyes. "Jeez, why are you so pissy today?" You know he's only messing with you, but your emotions are running wild today. You feel a sting of hurt in your chest. Without a word, you stand up and throw away the rest of your barely eaten chili. You ignore Abby's concerned glance as you turn away from the table and walk out of the cafeteria.

Today hasn't been a great one. Your monthly bloodbath had decided to come early, leaving you totally unprepared and upset. You tend to be extremely sensitive and frustrated due to the hormones and cramps that come along with the discomfort of bleeding for a week straight. Every little thing has been getting on your nerves today and everyone has noticed it, especially Abby.

You and Abby have been dating for about a year, giving her plenty of time to figure out why your moods change at the end of each month. She wonders why you haven't told her, especially considering you know when her cycle is, but she doesn't try to force you, thinking it might be uncomfortable for you to talk about.

"Hey, can you maybe tone it down?" Abby asks Owen after you leave.

"What?" Owen puts a hand to his chest, a look of mischief on his face. "I'm just messing around! Not my fault she's acting all moody!" Abby rolls her eyes, getting up to go find you. "Hey! I wasn't trying to be a dick!" Owen calls after her. Abby ignores him, leaving the cafeteria. She looks around the stadium. Where the hell did you go? The most logical place would be your room, right? She heads off in the direction of your room, thinking about ways she could cheer you up. Abby loves your smile. It makes her feel like she's laid eyes on an angel. She hasn't seen your smile all day.

As Abby walks to your room, she spots Nora down the hall. "Hey, Nora!" Abby waves Nora over with a smile.

"Hey. You looking for Y/N?" Nora asks. She knows perfectly well why Abby would be on the floor above her own.

"Yeah, you seen her?" Abby sighs, looking around the hall.

"Yeah, bumped into her while she was headed to her room." Nora replies, zipping up her olive green jacket. "She said she was gonna go see Alice and Bear. Hey, she looked a little tense. Everything okay?"

"Everything's fine, she's just having a rough day." Abby explains. "I better go find her." Nora puts her hand on Abby's arm as she walks past.

"You might wanna hurry." Nora warns. "It's gonna rain soon."

"Thanks, Nora." Abby nods, walking past her to your room. Thankfully, you had given her your spare key a few months ago. She can cut through your room and use the back door to get to the dog kennels faster. She unlocks the door, stepping into the room and quickly shutting and locking the door behind her. She can't help but pause and glance around your room.

Posters and photos of places all over the world litter the walls. A huge poster of the Eiffel Tower hangs above your bed. Abby smiles, remembering the many times you've talked about your dream to travel the world. The first night you told her about it, she made a silent promise to herself that she would take you all over the world and make your dream come true, no matter how much effort it took. A few dishes rest in the drying rack on the kitchen counter. Abby remembers the time you came to her room and immediately started washing the dishes she had forgotten to do because "you'll be happier to come home to a clean room after a long day."

"I'm getting sidetracked." Abby sighs to herself. She heads through the back door, locking it behind her. "Alright. Dog kennels." A few people greet Abby as she walks down the steps to the dog kennels. Everyone seems to be heading inside. Abby looks up at the sky, noticing the grey clouds that are only getting darker with every passing minute. Thunderstorm. She spots you in a kennel with Alice and Bear. Bear sits beside you as you play fetch with Alice. Abby greets the woman at the checkout desk and joins you in the kennel. You look up at her from your spot on the ground, offering her a tiny smile before looking back at Alice.

"Hey." Abby says, sitting beside you. She crosses her legs, copying your position.

"Hey." You reply, your knee brushing against hers. Alice drops the ball in your lap. Abby takes it before you can. She throws it to Alice, taking your hand.

"Wanna talk about what's been bugging you?" Abby asks, rubbing your knuckles with your thumb.

"Why do I feel like you already know?" You ask, looking at her with a raised brow.

"Because I do." Abby replies with a playful grin. "Why didn't you tell me you were on your period?"

"It's not important." You shrug, looking down at your lap. "And it's embarrassing." Abby's smile fades a little. Why would you find such a thing embarrassing?

"Hey." Abby places a hand on your cheek, moving you to look back at her. "It's important to me. You can always talk to me. If you ever need me to get you anything or you just need some comfort, don't be embarrassed to tell me. That shit sucks. But, if you tell me, I can do my best to make it a little more bearable. Yeah?"

"Yeah." You say with a small nod. Abby presses a soft kiss to your forehead, backing away to see a growing smile on your face.

"There's that smile." Abby says, her own smile growing wider once again. You roll your eyes, laughing a little. "Hey, what do you say we-" Just as Abby starts to speak, she's cut off by the booming sound of thunder. The violent noise seems to shake the Earth as rain starts to pour from the bleak sky. "Shit!" Abby grumbles. "We're gonna get soaked." Abby stands up, pulling you up with her. She's a little stunned to find you laughing. She gives you a questioning look as you struggle to hold back your laughs. "What?" She frowns, not understanding what you find so funny.

"Babe-" Your own giggle cuts you off. "You have a grass stain on the back of your pants!" Abby tries to look at her pants as you grab at the fabric near her thigh. "That is never gonna wash out!" You laugh, twisting the leg of her pants around a bit to show her. "Why did I immediately think of Shrek?!" You laugh harder at your own chaotic brain.

Abby begins to laugh with you, turning you around to look at the back of your pants. "Yours are stained too!" She chuckles, cheeks hurting from smiling. "We're so dumb!"

"We're a mess!" You say, your laughing dying down. "Okay, we should get inside." You take Abby's hand, guiding her out of the kennel. The two of you say goodbye to the dogs and run inside.

"Man." Abby sighs, locking the back door. She looks at the damp puddle on the floor from the rain you two have tracked in. "We need to dry off."

"Way ahead of you." You say, throwing a towel at her. She huffs a little as it hits her in the chest. Wrapping a towel around yourself, you grab a third towel and use it to wipe up the water on the floor. Thankfully, Abby left a pair of sweatpants and a tank top of hers at your place, meaning both of you could change into dry clothes. Once the two of you are done changing, you sit on the couch beside Abby, both of you wrapped up in a warm, fuzzy blanket. Abby uses her towel to dry her hair, water dripping from the end of her braid down her back in cold streaks. You place a hand on her knee.

"Thank you." You say, squeezing her knee lightly.

"For what?" Abby asks, setting the towel on the back of the couch. You lean into her side, wrapping your arms around her torso.

"Everything." You respond, unable to fully explain your gratitude. Abby smiles lovingly, putting an arm around you. She understands what you mean. She always does.

"You're welcome." She says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Wanna watch a movie?" She sits back against the couch, pulling you back with her so your head is resting on her chest.

"Shouldn't I apologize to Owen for yelling at him first?" You ask, feeling slightly bad for your outburst.

"Nah." Abby chuckles, reaching for the remote. "He can wait. Coraline is more important."

#abby anderson x reader #abbytlou #abby anderson #tlou #tlou2 #owen moore #owen tlou #nora harris #nora tlou #the last of us #the last of us 2

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alpacaparkaseok · 3 years

Text

Book of Soulmates

pairing: Hobi x reader

premise: 1071 5th Ave, New York, NY 10128 is all you need to know.

Fire Starter

Endless circles carry me ever upward. I’ve begun to notice the slight burn in my calves as I continue to climb up the endless circular ramp, a famous aspect of the Guggenheim.

Famous or not, it still has me contemplating just slipping my heels off and making the rest of the trek up to the top of the building barefoot.

Of course I refuse to take the elevator despite the rest of my group having done so. I mean, this is the Guggenheim. Who takes the elevator and misses all of the beautiful artwork and displays along the way? Not me.

I pause for a moment before a massive painting that takes up most of the wall, pretending that I’m entranced by it rather than in desperate need of a break. In my defense, I wasn’t planning on having to leave the bottom floor so soon. However, when it was cleared for some exclusive party to come through, I wasn’t left with much of a choice.

Echoes of the party going on downstairs remind me that I need to keep moving upward. No doubt my group has already made it to the top floor and are impatiently waiting for me. Maybe if I’m lucky they’ll just go on without me, leaving me to enjoy the famous art museum on my own.

Peeking down a hallway as I pass by it I’m drawn in by the display I see on the floor. Deciding to spare another moment, I sneak inside, eyes wide as I take in the display taking up on side of the floor. Glancing at the plaque beside it, I marvel at Abbas Akhavan’s artwork. The bronze casts made to represent damaged and changed plants as the affects of war are spread out along the way, making me take my time as I walk from one end to another.

“I don’t know, he just said something about wanting to find Van Gogh and ran up here,” a voice says from the ramp just outside the room where I find myself currently. It’s silent for a moment, and I realize that he must be on the phone.

“Yeah, I’ll bring him back down. Just give me a few minutes to find him. Ok. Bye.” The end of the phone conversation is punctuated by a long sigh, accompanied by a disbelieving chuckle. “That boy...oh. Hi.”

I turn to find a man - no. Not just some man. Jung Hoseok peers into the exhibit room, glancing around as though looking for someone.

So that’s why the bottom floor has been reserved. BTS is here.

“Hi.” I reply rather dumbly. Shaking my head, I fight to not stare too hard at him. He’s wearing a red jacket that looks like it was crafted just for him, flowers and other plants embroidered into the fabric with loving care. Paired with his ripped black jeans, Hoseok looks like he just stepped out of a photoshoot.

“Are you looking for someone?” I ask, trying to get him to move on before I make a complete fool of myself.

“Oh,” Hoseok repeats for the second time, eyes finally landing on me for longer than a couple of seconds. “You speak Korean?”

“Yep.”

“Oh.”

I can’t help but laugh a little. “You’re looking for someone? I haven’t seen anyone come up this way.”

“Oh,” Hoseok, completely oblivious to the fact that he’s just repeated the same word four times, steps into the exhibit with a soft smile. “My friend - Kim Taehyung, do you know who that is?”

I nod. “Yeah, I do.”

“Right. We’re supposed to be doing some stuff downstairs but he took off saying that he wanted to go see Van Gogh, and now we can’t find him.”

Chewing on my lip, I frown a little. “But Van Gogh is downstairs...?”

At that precise moment Hoseok’s phone lights up, and he gives me an apologetic smile and half bow before turning and answering it. The call doesn’t last long - he’s only taken two steps before he’s turning right back around with a perfect smile on his face.

“Well,” he sighs out, wandering closer, “He was downstairs. He just showed up again, I guess. Thanks for the help.”

“Of course.” Giving him a small smile, I turn back to the artwork before me, expecting him to step out.

From my peripheral I can tell that he’s thinking about it, but he hesitates for a moment. Glancing my way, Hoseok takes another step in my direction. My heart clenches in my chest, but I refuse to look at him.

Sometimes, being painfully awkward is a bit of a crutch.

“Excuse me,” he says softly, almost as though we were in a crowded room and he was trying not to startle me. “But have we met before?”

Now I do look at him, incredulity lining my features. “...don’t think so. I’m pretty sure I’d remember meeting you.”

He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “No, you’re right. That was kind of strange for me to ask that, wasn’t it? It’s just...” he pauses, then extends his hand out toward me. “I think that was my stupid way of trying to stall and get to know you before I have to leave.”

My jaw is probably on the ground now, and I continue to stare at the man with disbelief until I realize that his hand is still outstretched.

“Oh!” I almost shout. “Sorry. Yeah. It’s nice to meet you.”

I go to shake his hand, smiling a little at how he’s trying to respect my culture despite the obvious differences. Daring to glance up at his eyes, my breath gets caught in my throat as I see him doing the same.

What I identify as warmth in his eyes may also be due to the sparks flying from our joined hands.

“Oh!” Hoseok shouts, jumping back as sparks fly and singe our hands. “I - ah! Fire!”

I jump out of my shocked state just in time to see what Hoseok - my soulmate - is referring to. A few loose sparks that didn’t succeed in burning and marking our hands have floated down to the ground and also the white tarp where Abbas Arkhavan’s artwork is set up.

It’s also in the process of catching fire.

“Ah!” I shout now with Hoseok, and I rush about the room. “Fire extinguisher!” I shout, only making my soulmate more distressed when he realizes that I’m shouting in English.

“What?” He shouts unnecessarily. “What are you saying?!”

“Fire!” I shout again, heart pounding as adrenaline pumps through my veins. “Where’s the extinguisher?!” Tearing around the corner, I gasp in relief as the tell-tale red fire extinguisher hangs on the wall. Running as quickly as I can in my heels, I mentally curse my past self of fifteen minutes ago for not taking off my heels when I had the chance.

Hoseok notices my predicament, rushing over to me and letting me hand the extinguisher off to him. I hobble after him, finally managing to slip my heels off.

I watch with horror as the priceless artwork is covered with the white foamy substance of the extinguisher, offering up a pleading prayer that only the tarp was damaged.

Hoseok sprays every last inch of the tarp, panting when he finally relents. For a moment, all is silent in the aftermath of our soulmate bond. Glancing around the room I search for any other fires that our sparks may have caused, and let out a long sigh when it appears that the damage was at least kept to one small space.

Still standing before the display with the extinguisher in hand, I slowly make my way over to Hoseok and come to stand beside him.

His eyes are a bit glazed over as he stares at the wall that’s blank except for Abbas’s plaque. His chest rises and falls with his deep breaths, his face a little flushed.

Slowly, so slowly, Hoseok turns to look at me, disbelief obvious in his expression. “Did we just-”

“Start a fire?”

“Yeah.”

Looking down at the receding foam, a dry laugh escapes my throat. “I think we did.”

“Because we...we’re...”

“Yep.” My gaze is a little unfocused as I ease the extinguisher out of Hoseok’s grasp, the two of us wincing as our fingers graze each other and a few spare sparks shoot out, falling onto the foam and sizzling as they’re extinguished.

Turning on my heel, I go to put the extinguisher back and attempt to find the curator to explain this entire mess.

Hoseok trails after me, looking a little lost as he furrows his brow, still trying to understand what just occurred. My heart aches as he passes by my discarded heels, leaning down to pick them up and carry them along. Without a single word, he already has me swooning at his sweetness.

I pause at the sight of my right hand as I raise it to put the extinguisher back. My hand is littered with angry red welts from the sparks of our encounter. It’s a sight that I thought I’d never see.

Soon enough those red welts will fade into darker, lasting little scars. I’ve seen them a million times on other people.

The soulmate scars. As telling as any wedding ring, and even more permanent.

Hoseok appears by my side, seeing what I’m staring at. With heartbreaking tenderness, he raises his burned hand to mine, laying it on top. There’s a bit of residual warmth that kicks up at the contact, but no more sparks fly.

The sentimental moment is quite literally burned into my memory as I stare at our hands, hardly daring to believe that this is real. The moment is ruined as my guilty conscience takes over.

“We need to find the curator,” I mumble out. “Tell him what happened.”

Hoseok grunts in agreement, intertwining our hands before pulling me along with him, heading down the ramp. I frown up at him.

“What?” He asks, his eyes still a bit glazed over but the ghost of a smile on his face.

“Where are we going? The office is the other way.”

“Oh,” Hoseok says for the umpteenth time. “He’s downstairs...I’m supposed to be down there having a meeting with him.”

Eyes going wide and a groan leaving my mouth, Hoseok laughs at our predicament. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I whine. He shakes his head, eyes cleaning up a bit.

“I wish I was, darling.” My ears perk up at the pet name. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t kick you out, though. You’re with me.”

Squeezing his hand a little tighter, I allow a smile to break through.

masterlist

#jhope #jhope fluff #jhope soulmate au #bts soulmate au #bts first touch au #hobi #hoseok #bts fluff #hobi fluff #hope fluff #so cute #bts cute #bts soulmate #bts meet cute #jhope meet cute #meet cute #meetcute

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mammor0n · 4 years

Text

Warmth | Mammon x Reader

"You're hiding under the blanket because you're blushing?" - Mammon/MC

Words: 800ish

Warnings: just fluff 💛

In a rare turn of events, it was cold.

The sticky humidity of the Devildom air had finally given way to a crisp coolness reminiscent of winter, had the realm been subject to earthly seasons. At any rate, it was enough for a chill to sink into your bones, and for every fireplace in the House of Lamentation to be alight with a gentle, glowing blaze.

But even tucked beneath the heavy warmth of your duvet, you couldn’t sleep. Eyes bleary and hair mussed, you stumbled to your feet, blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you trudged out of your bedroom. The stone floor was cold on your feet, and a wave of goosebumps rose on your arms.

Stifling a yawn, you wandered to the common room, collapsing into an armchair across from the dying fire. Though there were only a few embers peering through the ash like blackened rubies, the remnant warmth eased your shivers, and you drew the duvet tightly around you as you watched thin trails of smoke waft from the coals.

“Hey, whatcha doin’ up so late, huh?”

You sleepily glanced up, a slow smile curling across your face as you saw Mammon hovering uncertainly in the doorway.

“I was cold,” you mumbled. “What about you?”

“O-oh. Well, you weren’t in your room, were ya? So-so I had to come find ya, didn’t I?”

You frowned.

“Why were you looking for me so late?”

“I missed y- I-I mean, I wanted… I thought you’d wanna hang out, okay?! I mean, who wouldn’t want to hang out with the GREAT Mammon, ha!” he stammered, cheeks scarlet as he shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket. You smiled fondly.

“‘Mkay. Well, here I am. Whatcha wanna do?” you asked, snuggling deeper into the armchair. Mammon’s blush deepened, if that were even possible.

“I, uh… I didn’t really… think that far ahead…” he admitted, kicking at the frayed edge of the rug splayed across the floor. You bit back a chuckle.

“Okay… wanna sit and talk for a while?” you suggested, and Mammon nodded, falling onto the couch across from you. He kicked off his boots, putting his feet up as he settled back into the cushions, eyelids drooping with fatigue.

“I-I guess, if you want to…” Mammon mumbled, cheeks darker than the embers in the fireplace. Your cheeks were also warm, though you couldn’t discern whether that was due to your fondness or merely the fire.

“So, what do you wanna talk abou-” you began, but swiftly cut yourself off as you saw Mammon’s head lolling back against the couch, mouth half-open. You bit back a smile as he snored.

Mammon tugged his jacket tightly around him in his slumber. Fighting off a yawn of your own, you got to your feet, duvet heavy around your shoulders. Stepping quietly forward, you shed the blanket from your body, draping it over Mammon’s sleeping form. Though you tried to be gentle, the sudden weight had Mammon’s eyes flying open.

“H-hey! What’d’ya think you’re doing?!” he exclaimed in shock.

“You looked cold.”

Mammon flushed again, and he dragged the blanket up to cover the red of his cheeks. You looked on in amusement.

“Whatcha doin’ there, buddy?” you teased.

“N-nothin’!” Mammon insisted, his voice muffled by the fabric. You giggled, and you saw Mammon’s ears grow red.

"You're hiding under the blanket because you're blushing?" you prompted, another smile sloping your lips.

“N-no!” Mammon denied weakly. You laughed again, though it was broken by another yawn.

“Hey, whatcha yawnin’ for? Go to sleep! You humans are so fragile, ya gotta rest, y’hear?!” Mammon berated. You smiled.

“‘Mkay, I’ll go back to bed…”

“W-well… I mean… there’s plenty o’ room here for the both of us, right? And-and I can’t just let you go back to ya room without your blanket! You’d be cold- I mean, uh, Lucifer would kill me. It’s my job to look after ya! I’m your first guy after all, remember?!” he reminded you.

Your tongue was too tired to offer a reply even if your mind had been alert enough to string one together, and so you simply laid next to the demon, eyelids heavy as you wriggled beneath the blanket. Mammon’s body was warm, and after his initial stiffening of surprise that you had actually taken him up on his offer, his arm slung around your shoulders and held you to his side. You idly noticed that the hand he’d rested on your arm was trembling, but you were considerate enough not to mention it. Nestled against the soft firmness of Mammon’s body and engulfed in his soothing scent of leather and cologne, you leaned your head against his shoulder, weighted eyelids finally falling shut.

Before you fell asleep, you were sure you felt Mammon’s lips in your hair.

You’d never slept better.

#obey me #obey me!#swd obey me #mammon #mammon x mc #mammon x reader #swd mammon #obey me mammon #obey me fanfic #obey me fluff #shall we date mammon

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sweetwritertanya · 4 years

Text

My Little Show

Summary: You come up with a clever idea to catch your boyfriend’s attention, making Yoongi drop everything in the studio and rush back home just in time for the show.

Warnings: SMUT! This fic will include: swearing, stripping (female), lap dance (male receiving), erotic body touching, dry humping, protected sex (it’s been a while!), sex on a chair (armchair, actually).

Word Count: 2689

The hours have gone by him without him even knowing, laser focused on what he was doing and oblivious to the world outside of the room he was in. When in the studio, Yoongi could get so absorbed in his music that the concept of time completely escaped him. It was nothing new to you, and you have learned not to take it personally if he doesn’t answer your calls or messages for a while. That was something he truly treasured about you.

Of course, he still felt bad about it. Even if he never really showed it, when he reached for his phone and noticed five messages starting from an hour ago, all from you, his heart sunk and squeezed in his chest painfully. He had told you he would be home before dinner but that was long done now. Opening the text messages, he was expecting angry words and disappointment, but that was not quite what he got.

Th first three were just you asking when he would arrive and if you should wait for him before eating. Yoongi’s already thin lips pressed together tightly in guilt, making them even smaller at that. The last two, however, were much different.

‘That’s too bad, darling. Look what you are missing out on.’ You wrote. This text was only from a few minutes ago, compared to the others. And you had sent a video after.

Clicking on the dark video, Yoongi frowned his eyebrows as he tried to figure out what he was seeing. Just as he turned the volume up, hoping to hear your voice in the dark, your figure stepped back from the phone’s camera. You were in the living room and it was actually quite bright. Not by the head light, but due to the candles you had lit up around. Not that his sharp eyes were drawn to any of that.

No, his small droopy eyes opened wide and awake at the first sight of you through the recording. You were using his oversized robe, which was actually a bit tight on your large frame, black sash tying the garment in the middle with a bow. Seductively, you walked back until your full body was shown in the middle of the room and slowly untied the fabric ribbon.

The robe opened up and you allowed it to fall off your shoulders and pool at your feet. You were wearing a black short babydoll that was barely covering your matching panties and the deep pungent cleavage revealed so much of your soft breasts that he was sure you were not wearing a bra. And then you actually smiled and bent down in front of the camera, hands on your knees and tits about to fall off the satin attire. Yoongi’s hands twitched and he licked his dry lips, having to change his position in his chair due to an uncomfortableness between his legs.

“Too bad you’re missing out on all of this, honey” your sensual voice whispers, before ending the video.

It takes him three minutes to save all of his work and gather all of his things before leaving the studio. In his hurried pace, not quite running because he wasn’t one to run, but surely in a much faster step than what was usual for him, it took Yoongi about five minutes to get home. He never thanked the fact that he got a place close to his studio so much before.

Coming in, the house seems dark and quiet. For a moment he wonders if you gave up on him arriving and went to bed but as he approaches the living room, the flickering light of the candles tell him you must still be up. Undressing his jacket, he calls for your name as he enters the room.

“Y/N?”

“About time, darling. Thought you’d miss the show” your voice almost purrs as you get up from the armchair that you had dragged in the middle of the room.

Yoongi smirks at the sight of you, although you had put his robe back on. The knowledge of what was beneath it somehow drove him madder than before. He steps towards you, but you seem to have other intentions and move around him, keeping a distance.

“That was quite a video you sent me. What are you playing, kitten?” He asks, eyes intensely set on you. You had that look in your eyes that never failed to stir him up. A look filled with naughty schemes.

“Like I said, I just wanted you home before you missed the show” you enlighten with a chuckle in your voice. You gesture your head towards the armchair you had just been on. “Why don’t you take your seat?”

Curious, Yoongi raises one eyebrow but follows your lead, sitting on the armchair with his back leaning back, arms resting and legs crossed. You like seeing him like that, like a powerful king. The flickering candles dance on his skin and his eyes look even darker now, intently staring at you, waiting for your next move. And you weren’t one to disappoint.

“Enjoy the show” you whisper hotly before you press play.

Yoongi swallows heavily as the slow bass-driven song starts playing, at the same time your wide hips start moving. It was a show alright, one excruciatingly sensual one that he wasn’t sure he could wait for the end patiently. With your back turned to him, your hands slide up your meaty thighs all the way up to your hair that you pull up, at the same time your hips rock from side to side. Even beneath the robe, Yoongi could envision your ass jiggling with the movement. His hands clench the armrest tighter.

You dare looking up from your shoulder to him, a small smile feigning innocence while your hands drop the robe from one shoulder, and then the other. With the fabric hanging by the middle of your arms, you suddenly turn around at a particular strong beat of the song and let it fall down to the floor, revealing the beautiful babydoll Yoongi had never seen before, showcasing the swell of your breasts and the thickness of your legs. Air becomes thicker around him and he has to lick his lips, uncrossing and crossing again his legs.

The smile on your beautiful round face becomes devious. Knowing what you were doing to this fine-ass piece of a man empowers you. Biting your bottom lip flirtatiously, you skim your hands with fingers sprawled apart up your inner thighs, brushing your center as you pull them up and your digits get caught in the fabric and pull the babydoll up, revealing your almost sheer little panties. You hear Yoongi suck a breath even as his position seems froze in the chair. Your smirk grows and when your hands reach your chest, you squeeze the flesh and let it bounce as you slowly squat down, legs spreading apart. A rumble escapes Yoongi’s constricted throat and by now he his clawing the armrests in restrain. You never told him he was forbidden from getting up or reaching out and touch you, but he felt like that was an unspoken rule in order for him to enjoy this show all the way to the end. If he made it there.

Keeping with the beat of the song, you snap back up and turn around, slapping your own buttocks hardly covered by the thin string in between them. The bountiful flesh wobbles and Yoongi is clenching his teeth together. His fingers itched to trace the stretch marks on it, feel the dimples and squeeze the fluffiness of your ass that his hands would barely hold.

The song slows down and much to his punishment, you swiftly get down to your knees and hands. Yoongi drops his leg and closes his eyes but only for a moment, overwhelmed by the image in front of him. You start crawling in an almost feral manner, a huntress with sights set on prey. Your back arched, tits hanging and pulled together every time you placed one hand in front of the other, approaching him slowly. By the time you reached between his legs and place your hands on his knees, anchoring you to get back up while swaying your body in front of him, Yoongi’s hips jerk without his control, the simple touch setting his constricted muscles ablaze.

“Y/N…” he roughly speaks in a low voice, your name sounding like a menace.

You bring your index finger to your lips, silencing him while you kept dancing just inches from him. And then you play with the straps of the babydoll, pulling one arm and then another off of them. Yoongi curses under his breath and throws his head back when you pull the garment over you head, bare torso in display for him. A frustrated growl leaves his tightly shut lips, small eyes half-closed and glassed over. Every cell in him was jolting with the need to just pull you in and touch you, feel your skin against his, grab those perky nipples with his mouth and lap on them until you screamed, grind himself on your hot center before burying himself deep. But you weren’t done yet.

Wicked smirk in place, you wiggle your almost naked body in time with the tempo, before turning around and twerking your butt on his lap, low enough to actually brush the evidently erect member between his legs. He almost chokes at the final hint of relief, taking every ounce of willpower in him not to move. He had to close his eyes now, it’s the only way to keep him steady. You vary between small brushes of your bottom and full on grind of his girth between your ass cheeks. Every time, you feel his resolution to control himself waver, driving him absolutely mad.

Song coming to an end, a long song purposefully chosen for this, you turn to face him and ran your hands over his shoulders, sitting on his lap. Your hands run down his arms until your reach his hands and you take them to place them on your hips.

“You can touch me now, darling” you allow, amused.

Yoongi’s eyes burst open then, almost unbelieving, before he sighs in relief.

“Fuck!” he curses just as his hands attach themselves to the malleable flesh of your ass and pull your core closer to him, grinding himself on you at the same time he violently slants your mouths together.

More than kissing, he is biting your lips avidly, ferociously, tongue plundering in and twinning with yours, running it along all the sensitive crevices of your mouth before pulling back and snagging your bottom lip in between his teeth. Your body ever so sensitive to his touch, so much aroused by all the seduction of before, it takes so little to leave you a moaning mess. His head dips down and his lips close around your erect nipple and you wail at the sharp pleasure it brings straight to your womb. You can’t help the way your hips start moving in synch with his, humping down on his covered length in search of much needed friction.

“Ahh…! Yoongi, need you! Now” you whimper as he drowns in your cleavage, playing roughly with your tits much like he wanted to since the first time he saw that video.

He doesn’t need any more convincing, immediately dropping his hands to his belt and undoing it impatiently. Your raise your hips and lick your lips, aching for him. You catch Yoongi’s wallet from the back pocket of his jeans before he pulls them all the way down his legs, searching for where you knew he kept a couple of condoms. Finding one, you rip it open with your teeth just as he pulls down his boxers and releases his cock from any confines. He reaches for the condom but you pull it away.

“Allow me” you say.

He nods and his Adam’s apple bobs in anticipation. With deliberately slow movements, you place the condom at the engorged red tip of his dick, very gradually pushing the latex down his length, a bit with one hand, another bit with another. You feel the member pulsating and twitching angrily at that. In retaliation, Yoongi pinches at your abused nipples, making you huff.

“For fucks sake, Y/N, I can’t” he speaks through his tense jaw, eyes burning into yours as his hand covers yours and helps placing the condom all the way down.

You smirk and slide yours hand up his torso, feeling his enclosed abdominals tense under your digits. Sliding even closer to him, you rub yourself on his protected member, soaked panties revealing how ready you were too.

“Was the show that much of your liking?” you tease, mouth going down to bite and kiss at his neck. His hips thrust upwards into your covered entrance, one hand setting on your plush hip while the other venters into the middle of your legs and pulls the fabric of your panties to the side.

“Fuck yeah” he answers, at the same time he plunges in.

It makes the both of you gasp, you at the sudden fullness accompanied by the brain numbing pleasure, him at the sharp relief your warm and tight body provided. Relishing in that first feeling, both stay still for a moment. But the urge to chase the much awaited high rapidly took over.

Yoongi is the first to move, backing his hips the further they would go in the cushioned seat before slamming back forward, hands settled at the curve of your hip to pull you closer. You respond to his movements avidly, holding yourself up on your knees and bouncing in time with his lunges. The air is static, the house quiet if not for your bodies colliding erotically, moans and grunts alongside heavy breathing.

That familiar pull at your womb, that deep and low pressure in your belly, keep on building up at every movement, unbearable need rippling through you like a bonfire. Gushes of arousal cling to both your bodies, spreading from between your legs to your inner thighs, creating shameful squelching sounds that become that much more noticeable once Yoongi picks up the pace.

His hips snap forward harder and faster as fissions of pleasure skitter through his gut, the pulse on his groin scorching his veins with molten need. Knowing he was about to be driven to the edge, Yoongi grabs your heavy leg and pulls it to rest on the armchair instead of on the cushion, making you yelp and consequently wail as the angle opens your legs further and his renewed speed makes him continuously press on that delicate pad of nerves inside.

His more vocal grunts and desperate thrusts tell you he is close too and, before you know it, your insides erupted throughout your body, scourging every inch and you cry out in absolute delight. Your walls clench him impossibly tight as you climax and it’s all it takes for him to follow. A molten wave of gratification left him shaking and spilling into the latex barrier, body shuddering beneath yours before giving out.

Heads still buzzing and vision still slightly blurred, you share content and loving stares, you chuckling before his lips attach to yours in absolute adoration. Carefully, you two disentangle and the spoiled condom is thrown out. Yoongi had pulled his boxer back on, but not his trousers, while you had put on his robe again, with nothing but your panties that managed to stay on during this endeavor.

You were resting on the armchair when Yoongi came back and pulled you up just enough for him to sit down and pull you to his lap. Sitting comfortably, he wraps his arms around your bulky frame and drops pecks at the skin of your exposed shoulder.

“Not hurting you?” you ask, referring to your weight on his lean legs.

“Nah” he replies in between pecks.

“Was my little show worth ditching work?” you snicker, eyes closing with weariness.

“Infinitely.” Small cat eyes shutting close too. “Always.”

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lifeofkaze · 3 years

Text

An Art of Balance #22

Orion Amari x MC

Warning: very small mention of alcohol, blink and you'll miss it

A/N: Another very long one but... you'll see why :D thank you to @kc-needs-coffee and @carewyncromwell for looking over and getting my thoughts straight, love you loads <3

Word Count: ~ 4.900

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Chapter 22: Moonglow

The sounds of music and laughter were immediately muffled as the heavy round oak door shut behind her; by the time Lizzie had reached the end of the tunnel, the sound of the party going in the Common Room was barely audible anymore.

She stepped into the dimly lit stone corridor and shivered; the damp air in the dungeons was always more on the cold side, but coming out of the heat of the Common Room, Lizzie’s arms were covered in goosebumps in no time; she wished she had taken the time to put a jacket over the old team jersey she was wearing.

Looking left and right to see in which direction Orion had been going, she could just see him rounding the corner of the path that led up to the Great Hall. She set after him at a light jog, partly to catch up with him but also to drive the cold out of her body.

As Orion heard her footsteps behind him, he turned around; a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth when he realised who had followed him from the bustling party. By the time Lizzie reached him, he was leaning against the wall at the foot of the stairs with his arms crossed in front of him.

“Tired of the party already?” he asked after Lizzie came to a halt. He flashed her that crooked smile of his that made it that much harder for her to return to a more steady breathing rhythm.

“Same as you apparently.” Lizzie took a deep breath that forced her heartbeat to return to a more normal pace. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t care much for huge parties with so many people,” he admitted. “I find the attention we get after a successful match often gets too intense. And besides,” he chuckled silently, “McNully was too preoccupied tonight to be good company.”

The image of Murphy’s hands buried in a mane of red locks flashed through Lizzie’s mind. She had to chuckle as well.

“Yeah, his attention may be elsewhere tonight,” she giggled. “So what are you going to do now?”

“The castle is very quiet at night; it’s easier to let your thoughts flow freely in the dark,” he answered. “I’m going to seek respite from the crowd at my favourite place.”

Lizzie raised her eyebrows. “The Quidditch pitch?”

“Second favourite place,” Orion conceded.

He pushed himself off the wall and started climbing the stairs that would take him to the ground level. After a few steps he turned around to her. “Are you coming or not?”

Lizzie felt her lips curl into a smile as she nimbly hopped up the steps as well. It was foolish and reckless, but the mixture of alcohol and adrenaline coursing through her body made her ignore the warnings in her mind for good.

Orion quickly checked to see if no one was around before they crossed the still brightly lit ante room to the Great Hall and continued up the grand staircase that would lead them to the various wings and towers of the castle.

After they had left the Entrance Hall behind, it had grown considerably darker; almost all torches had already been extinguished for the night. Luckily, the light of the moon shining through the windows was bright enough for them to not have any need of their wands.

Neither of them spoke as they wandered past countless statues and paintings, dipping in and out of the silver light illuminating their path. But it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence; both of them were enjoying the other’s company without the need for any words.

The castle looked completely different at night and Lizzie soon lost her sense of direction; she had snuck out after curfew a few times before, mainly when Tonks and Tulip had needed a third pair of hands, but she had never roamed the nightly hallways just for fun.

Orion, on the other hand, seemed perfectly comfortable in the dark; it made her wonder just how often he had sneaked out of bed to explore the school before.

They had entered one of the main corridors again and were waiting for an enchanted staircase to swing their way. After it had arrived, Lizzie set her foot on the lowest step, when Orion’s outstretched arm suddenly blocked her way.

She could immediately see why; a swinging light had appeared at the other side of the landing and was approaching them at an alarming pace.

“Who goes there?” the raspy voice of Argus Filch cut through the darkness. His voice turned triumphant as he could make out their silhouettes in the light of his lantern.

“Ha, Mrs. Norris, now we got them for good!” He drew a deep breath before he yelled, “Hey you, stop! You’re out after curfew, I’ll hang you from the ceiling for this!”

He started towards them as the light in his hand swung back and forth erratically.

“Run!” Orion grabbed Lizzie’s hand as he darted back into the shadows of the corridor they had come from, pulling her behind him. She needed a moment to fall into step with him; she was a lot smaller than Orion and had to take two strides for every one he took.

Lizzie had no idea where they were going; she was just dashing after Orion through hallways, side doors and up several flights of steps. It surprised her how well he knew all the shortcuts and secret passages traversing the castle. They had shaken Filch off quite some time ago, but they only slowed down when they reached the foot of an iron cast spiral staircase.

Her heart hammering against her rib cage, Lizzie collapsed onto the lowest step, gasping for air. Her head had cleared and her already tired legs hurt, her sides burning with stitches from running at full speed.

She looked at Orion, who stood next to her, his forearms resting on the railing as he was trying to catch his breath as well. Their eyes locked for a moment and the rush of adrenaline had them burst into laughter at the absurdity of the situation.

It was only now that Lizzie took in her surroundings; she tilted her head back and watched the staircase ascend into the darkness above, only parts of it illuminated by the moonlight seeping in from the openings in the round walls. She finally knew where Orion had taken her.

“The Astronomy Tower, huh?” she muttered.

Orion inclined his head. “Where better to be one with the universe than directly under the starry sky?” he smiled. “Come on.”

He offered her his hand to pull her up again; Lizzie felt her heartbeat picking up again as he interlaced his fingers with hers while they were climbing the steps leading to the top. She didn’t care if what she was doing was wrong; in this very moment, her hand resting in his felt completely right.

Lizzie could feel her heart beat in time with the sound of their feet of the metal steps. She was walking slightly behind Orion; the tips of his black hair were curled ever so slightly as it had dried in the warm air of the Common Room deep down below them. She watched how it gently swayed with his steps when they passed through one of the moonlit patches; she would have only needed to extend her hand to touch it.

The big, half open room at the top of the tower seemed vast to her as they reached the top. Lizzie had never been up here outside of Astronomy class, where the room was crowded with students and their unwieldy telescopes.

She let go of Orion’s hand as she wandered through the opening in the roof and onto the parapet running around the perimeter of the Astronomy Tower. Professor Sinistra always took great care that no student got too close to the edge, so Lizzie now took the chance to step to the end of the platform. Running her hands along the cold surface of the broad wooden railing, she tilted her head back and took in the dazzling night sky.

The moon was still low enough to not eclipse the myriad of twinkling stars above her; in the cold, clear air of the night, they seemed so close as if she only had to extend her hand to reach them.

“So this is your favourite place in the castle?” she asked as Orion leaned onto the railing beside her, his eyes trailing the firmament as well.

“It is the most peaceful place I know.”

Lizzie could see why; standing at the highest point of the ancient building beneath them, with no one but Orion by her side, the place seemed almost enchanted. She didn’t dare raise her voice to more than a whisper, as if any loud noise might break the spell and wake her up.

A breeze drifted up towards them. It caught in her hair and Lizzie shivered from the cold; she let go of the railing and wrapped her arms around herself. Without a word, Orion shrugged out of his coat and draped it around her shoulders.

Lizzie’s tense muscles immediately relaxed under the fabric still warm from his body heat. He was only wearing a white shirt underneath it himself. Not wanting him to be cold either, Lizzie pulled his coat off her back again.

“It’s alright,” he smiled as she offered it back to him. “I don’t get cold that quickly.”

Relieved she didn’t have to give up her newfound source of warmth, Lizzie slipped it on again. She had to roll up the sleeves several times until they didn’t fall over her hands anymore. As she snuggled deeper into it, her head started spinning at the lovely scent of the heavy fabric, fresh, spicy and woody at the same time. Lizzie recognised it immediately; she had caught it on another of her team members last; it was the missing component of her Amortentia.

“Why does your coat smell like Everett?” she mumbled confused.

Orion raised his eyebrows. “Why would you know how Everett smells?”

Lizzie blushed as she realised how that must have sounded. “Back at the last post-match party,” she explained hurriedly, “I noticed when he got a little bit too close for my liking; he only got hold of me because I got distracted by that scent.”

Orion still looked puzzled. “And why would this particular scent distract you so much?”

“Because I can’t figure out why I know it so well,” she sighed. “I’ve smelled it so many times and but I don’t know where. Only that it has something to do with Quidditch.”

“And what do Everett and my coat smell like?” Lizzie could hear the laughter ringing in his voice at the absurdity of his question.

She turned her head so the collar of the coat came closer to her face and inhaled deeply. “It’s warm,” Lizzie closed her eyes to better concentrate on it, “but fresh at the same time; kind of spicy as well.”

“That would be ginger, cilantro and patchouli, if I’m not mistaken.” Lizzie’s eyes snapped open and she blinked incredulously at the widely grinning Orion next to her. Now that he had named the components she could distinguish them clearly; why hadn’t she thought of that before?

Her brow furrowed in confusion. “How do you know?”

His grin turned into a beautiful, warm laugh. “That happens to be what my shower gel smells like.”

Lizzie’s confusion only grew as the heat rose to her face. “But why did Everett smell like your shower gel?”

Orion shrugged. “We share. There’s mostly only one bottle of shower gel around in our dorm, and somehow, it’s always mine.”

Lizzie cocked her head to the side at the notion of so many people sharing something as personal as a scent. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” she declared with a giggle. “But why doesn’t Murphy use it then? I’ve never noticed it on him.”

“Murphy got gifted his very own personalised bottle of shower gel and he guards it like a treasure,” Orion chuckled.

She could just imagine who that gift had been from. But even after Orion’s explanation, something was not quite adding up. The way Everett had smelled had merely reminded her of the fragrance of the love potion; something had been missing.

“What’s that other scent then,” she asked more to herself. “It reminds me of a fire going out.”

“Like burning wood?”

Lizzie snapped out of her musings. “Yes.”

“I burn incense while meditating; it helps clearing the mind. No wonder my coat smells like it.” There it was again, that intriguingly crooked smirk playing around his lips as he watched her from the side while resting his forearms on the railing.

Not wanting to stare, Lizzie looked out over the peaceful grounds. Ginger, patchouli, cilantro and incense; just like her Amortentia. A wry smile formed on her lips as she shook her head the tiniest bit.

Out of all people, why did it have to be him?

“Do you know why I like to come here?” he asked suddenly.

She tipped her head back and watched the glittering night sky. “You like stargazing?” she chuckled, her joke a weak attempt to take her mind off the way her chest tightened as she felt Orion’s eyes on her.

“Exactly,” he answered in complete seriousness, however. “The stars have a way of showing you a way to your true self, if you know how to read them.”

Lizzie tore her gaze away from the sky. “You’re talking about Astrology.”

Orion nodded in confirmation. “Exactly; it’s the reason I was interested in Divination in the first place. I don’t know much about my past, but the stars taught me more about myself than I would ever have thought possible.”

She laughed lightly as she remembered her own stupid reason for choosing Divination. The night breeze blowing around the top of the tower carried the sound away from her lips and out over the grounds.

“That’s a lot more plausible than what I did.” Orion’s intrigued silence prompting her to go on, she blushed at how flippant she sounded. “I lost a bet with Tonks about who would jump out of the way of a Fanged Frisbee first.”

He laughed along with her, the sound of his voice deep where hers was clear. “You don’t believe in Astrology then?”

She shook her head. “Not really; I know the movement of the planets affect certain magical traits and abilities, but I don’t believe in foresight and omens and all these things.”

Lizzie half-feared to have enticed him into a discussion about the universe and fate, but the corner of his mouth simply quirked up as his eyes dropped to where the neckline of her jersey showed the yellow topaz resting against her skin.

“Why did you never take your necklace off then?”

Her hand went to her throat automatically and covered the pendant. “I don’t know,” she admitted, “I got used to the feel of it, I guess. It comforts me to know it’s there.”

Orion inclined his head. “That’s what birthstones are supposed to do.”

He had started twirling the pendant of his own necklace; Lizzie had rarely seen him without it except when they were playing in House matches. She had never asked why it was so special to him. She reached over to him, gently taking the round stone out of his hands and turned it around between her fingers.

“Is that your birthstone as well?”

To her surprise, he shook his head. “Not mine,” he answered quietly, his voice suddenly tinged with melancholy. “It was my mother’s; it’s one of the only things I still have that once belonged to her. The people in charge at the orphanage where I grew up gave it to me. Although it’s not my own birthstone, its presence comforts me when I feel unsettled; that’s how I came up with the idea for yours.”

Lizzie’s throat tightened at his words; she lightly placed her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

But Orion shook his head. “Don’t be; all of this happened a long time ago. It made me who I am today and I wouldn’t want to change that.” His gaze swept over the panorama below them; the reflection of the moon glittered on the rippling surface of the Black Lake.

“I don’t need a birthstone to remind me of my strengths, because I know very well who I am,” his voice had reduced to a whisper, moved with the same sadness like before, “although I can’t share my true self with a lot of people.”

Lizzie furrowed her brow; it had never occurred to her that Orion might be afraid to open up. “I’ve never noticed,” she admitted, “to me you are always acting the same. You’re maybe a bit more direct when you’re around friends, but that’s about it.”

“Masking what you want to say behind a lot of words helps you distinguishing between the people who actually care for what you have to say and those who don’t,” he explained.

“Why would you do that?”

“Most people just tune out when they don’t catch on to me,” he explained. “They don’t care to see past my position. To them, I am the eccentric captain of our team and nothing more. They see only what they are expecting to see, so in turn, it is all that I show them. But with you, it’s different; you’re listening to what I have to say. With you, I can be honest.”

Lizzie remained silent; she leaned against the railing, mirroring his position. But contrary to the calm surrounding Orion, she could feel a fist tightening around her heart at his words; she thought about all the lies she had amassed over the course of the last weeks.

“Sometimes I wonder if it’s good to dig too deep,” she mused more to herself. “You might not like everything you find out about yourself.”

“Some things remain mysteries to us, that much is true,” Orion’s expression was unreadable as he turned his head and watched her. “You have become one to me as well, although you never were before. I don’t know what you’re running from, but I want you to know that you can always trust me if you need to share your burden.”

Lizzie felt like she would choke on the emotions welling up in her chest. She didn’t deserve an ounce of the trust he placed in her. She knew this was her chance to come clean and tell him everything, that she positively had to. But the words refused to leave her lips.

Instead, she reached out again and covered his hand with hers, her skin tingling as sparks shot up from her fingertips and coursed through her body at the touch.

“I know,” she breathed with a constricted voice.

It was hard to make out his thoughts as he turned his hand around and intertwined his fingers with hers once more. Lizzie hated herself for not withdrawing her hand at this moment, but she had lost control over her actions long ago.

Orion broke her out of her thoughts. “It’s lucky the moon isn’t full tonight, don’t you think?” His eyes were fixed on a particular assortment of stars. “You can actually see every star of the Leo constellation.”

“You can?” Lizzie mumbled, still distracted by her own thoughts.

Orion regarded her with an unreadable expression. “You don’t see it?”

Of course she did; Lizzie was rather good at Astronomy, she found the movements of the planets fascinating. But she shook her head anyway. “No, I don’t.”

“Well then,” he left his spot at the railing and stepped behind her to gain the same perspective. Even through the thick fabric of his coat, Lizzie could sense the heat radiating off his body. She held her breath as his left arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer towards him. She could feel his strong heartbeat against her back and closed her eyes for a moment. She opened them again as Orion started speaking, his right arm pointing out the single stars forming the constellation above them.

They stood like this for a while, Lizzie leaning against his chest while he held her close, the back of her head resting in the curve of his neck. He told her of the legend behind the Leo constellation, and how the Gods had raised it to the sky because the lion was deemed the King of Beasts.

She listened to the stories he told her with his warm and quiet voice while her eyes were tracing the familiar patterns of the stars. She knew all these things, but it didn’t matter to her; the only thing that was important was them, standing together on the highest point of the castle in the silver light of the ascending moon.

Her right hand was lying on his arm that held her, her fingers drawing tiny circles on his skin as he told her of the brightest star in the Leo constellation: Regulus, the Heart of the Lion.

“But even though it is the brightest of them all,” he murmured against her hair, “the light of the moon still eclipses it. That’s why we’re lucky the moon isn’t full tonight; on a night light this, you can see straight to the heart.”

He moved his head and Lizzie held her breath as his voice suddenly sounded very close to her ear. “But I believe you know all that very well.”

Shivers ran down her spine as his breath ghosted over the sensitive skin of her neck and she felt the rough stubble of his cheek against her jawline. Through the rush of emotions, she vaguely remembered that Professor Sprout kept him updated on all of their grades; of course he would know she did well in Astronomy.

Lizzie turned around in his arms to say something but couldn’t think of anything as she saw him smiling at her, his expression so tender that it threatened to take her breath away. Her own face softened as she brought a hand to his face and gently rested it on his cheek. There was no room for doubts anymore; shutting out her mind, she stood on her tip toes and brushed her lips against the corner of his mouth.

Nothing could have prepared her for the explosion of butterflies inside her chest as Orion’s arms wrapped around her and his lips moved against hers. They were a lot softer than she had imagined, a stark contrast to the stubble of his beard slightly pricking her upper lip. The smell of ginger, patchouli and cilantro hanging in his hair was close to intoxicating as she raked her fingers through it.

Everything else was gone, there was nothing left but the feeling of his lips on hers and the weight of his body pushing her against the railing in her back.

They broke apart for air and Lizzie felt her knees growing weak at the wild and raw emotions stirring his dark eyes. His hand found her neck and pulled her in again. Lizzie felt as if she was on fire, every nerve in her body alert to the maximum, as Orion’s hand tangled in her hair while the other rand down her spine. Their kiss grew deeper with every passing second and Orion smirked against her mouth as Lizzie teasingly bit his lower lip.

He pushed her away the slightest bit and was surprised to see the challenge sparkling in her eyes. “Anything wrong, Captain?” she grinned.

He brought his hand to her face, never breaking the eye contact with her. The spark shining in them was answer enough.

As his lips crashed onto hers this time, it was different; it felt as intense as before, but the mood between them had shifted to something else. As he brushed the tip of his tongue over her lips, she gladly parted them for him, completely losing herself in the moment.

She soon found herself pressing her body against him, her hands buried in his black hair, while his fingers dug into the skin of her waist almost painfully. She brought one of her hands behind her and pushed herself up on the broad railing to bring herself to one level with him, allowing Orion to come even closer as she wrapped her legs around his midsection.

They were so caught up in each other, they didn’t notice the steps approaching from behind.

“Excuse me, what are you two doing up here? It’s way past curfew, and get your hands off each other this instant!” a stern voice sounded from the entrance to the parapet.

Lizzie’s inside went icy cold at the familiar voice. She immediately pushed Orion away from her and hopped of the railing, wrapping his coat around her to hide her crumpled state of her shirt.

Rowan’s eyes widened in shock as she recognised whom exactly she had caught making out before shattering into the deepest look of hurt and heartbreak Lizzie had ever seen.

She started shaking her head and backed away a few steps, mouthing soundless words of disbelief, before she turned around and dashed towards the staircase.

Lizzie cursed under her breath and ran after Rowan. When she caught up with her, she reached for Rowan’s arm to make her stop. “Rowan, wait, I can explain- “

“No!” Rowan jerked free off her touch so violently Lizzie staggered backwards. In the light coming from her wand, she could see the tears streaking down her best friend’s face.

“How could you do this to me? I trusted you!” she cried between sobs that pierced Lizzie’s heart like daggers.

“I’m so sorry, Rowan, believe me I, didn’t mean to- “

But Rowan didn’t let her finish. “Of course you did! You have everything you could ever want, but you just couldn’t keep your hands off him!”

She took a step in Lizzie’s direction with such a fury that Lizzie inadvertently moved backwards.

“Charlie Weasley’s not been enough for you, has he?” she sneered, all her disappointment suddenly turning into anger. “It’s not enough you have him eating out of your hand; no, you had to go and get yourself the one guy that was important to me, that I thought liked me, because you can’t stand the thought of me having something that you don’t!”

The colour had drained from Lizzie’s face; not once in her life had she seen Rowan so furious.

“Rowan, you need to calm down,” Orion had come up to them, addressing the livid girl very cautiously, as if trying to soothe a spooked animal. “I’m sure we can clear this misunderstanding together.”

“Misunderstanding?” Rowan barked a humourless laugh that made Lizzie’s skin crawl. “The only misunderstanding here is that I thought you were my friend,” she spat at her. “When in truth, you’re nothing but a liar.”

Orion was looking at her now and she closed her eyes. ‘Please’, she prayed, ‘please, don’t.’

But Rowan carried on. “Did you never wonder why we wanted to study with you in the first place?” she asked Orion but her eyes were boring into Lizzie’s as she spoke. “It was all a ruse and nothing more. She promised me to help me getting to know you better, but that was a lie as well.”

Rowan grit her teeth. “The only truth here is that our dear Lizzie has a taste for Quidditch captains and can’t stand it when all attention isn’t on her.”

With a last scathing look at Lizzie, Rowan turned to leave again. When Lizzie reached for her arm once more, she whipped around and raised her wand.

“Flipendo!”

A bang cut through the quiet of the castle as the jinx hit Lizzie square in the chest, knocking her to the ground and driving her breath from her lungs. The pain itself wasn’t so bad; she remembered the feeling from her many years in the duelling club and Rowan’s defensive charms had never been the strongest. What really cut through her was the knowledge that her best friend had cast a spell to hurt her.

Orion was by her side immediately to check if she was okay, but Lizzie only had eyes for Rowan who stood frozen on the spot, incredulous of what she had done, before a strangled sob escaped her and she fled down the staircase, the clanking sound of her steps growing fainter with every moment.

With a groan, Lizzie came into a sitting position and rubbed at the point where Rowan’s spell had hit her.

Orion’s hand cupped her cheek as he searched her face for any sign of whether she was hurt. “Are you okay?”

Lizzie could only shake her head; his caring touch broke the tension of the situation and she felt the tears well up in her eyes. She turned her head away from his touch and covered her mouth with her hand as they started streaming down her face.

What had she done?

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #quidditch #orion amari #lizzie jameson #aob #art of balance #the quidditch squad #if anyone's wondering that's the chapter I wrote drunk #turned out better than I thought it would #I was honestly so scared of this one I can't even tell you #kudos to my husband and his soccer team for educating me on why individual shower gels are totally unnecessary #that's there the idea came from #it's not something stupid I made up mkay

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