#at least i have another cup noodles left if i don’t want to make real pasta lol

[animazed]

do i go out and get food? or do i just stay here in pajamas? 🤔

[volkswagonblues]

a lil guide to the Fire Nation for the ATLA fic writers out there

(aka. a no means exhaustive primer on east asia by an asian person)

This is a guide for fic writers want to write a canon-era story set in the Fire Nation, or featuring Fire Nation characters. A quick little primer on the tiny details of everyday life that you might not think about, but certainly stuff that would make me, an asian person, wince if I were to encounter it. BRUSHES, not quills. CHOPSTICKS, not forks. 

(note #1: this was partly inspired by a chat with @elilim​) 

(note: #2:  I originally intended it for zukka fic writers before realizing that other writers might find it useful. so apologies for a slight Zuko-bias for that reason)

(note #3: this is all stuff i was thinking about when writing firebender’s guide, in case anyone was wondering)

1. CLOTHING

Okay, I think the most straightforward way to describe what everyone’s wearing most of the time is “tunic”. They’re all just...tunics of different colours and varieties. Later when Zuko’s the Fire Lord he wears robes. The show provides a better visual guide than I could, here are a few notes to keep in mind:

a) Japanese people wear their collars LEFT crossed over RIGHT

I don’t think this would come up in writing as much as it would in art, but it’s considered bad luck to do it the wrong way because that’s only for dead people. Let my boy Zuko demonstrate:

b) There are no buttons

This is picky, but Wikipedia says “Functional buttons with buttonholes for fastening or closing clothes appeared first in Germany in the 13th century.[6] They soon became widespread with the rise of snug-fitting garments in 13th- and 14th-century Europe.” I kinda believe it. If you look closely, characters’ clothes are always tied together or wrapped in some way with a belt. If there are fasteners, they’re braided frog closures that go into a little loop, like the qipao-style dresses women wear in Ba Sing Se, or Zuko’s casual prince’s clothes in the topmost image. Anyways, I don’t think Zuko or Azula or the Gaang would technically button or unbutton anything when they’re changing clothes. Clothing is designed to be tied, not buttoned.

[so much more under cut]

c) This isn’t a real rule, but there’s something called koromogae, or the seasonal changing of clothing in Japan.

This is something I learned when I was writing firebender’s guide, and I just liked the fun detail about there being a strict calendar for when to wear something. I liked the idea of someone like Zuko, who actually spent most of his formative years outside of the Fire Nation, coming home and just suffering mutely through the summer heat because upper class etiquette says no changing into cooler clothes until August 15. 

From My Asakusa: 

And this website:

Generally, people change from thick, heavy, dark-coloured clothes for winter to thin, lighter, bright-coloured clothes for spring and summer. In traditional Japanese culture, particularly in formal settings such as tea ceremony, it is important to acknowledge the changes of seasons—in such circumstances, not only the patterns and colours of the kimono that are worn but also the utensils and furniture that are used are required to change. By changing their clothing, people notice and appreciate the change of seasons. [Japan Foundation]

Here are some visual guides from the official creators for clothes: (notice how it’s pretty much always left over right)

2.FOOD AND EATING

a) Traditional cuisine

It seems like the most common foods in canon are Fire Flakes and meat, to the point where poor Aang had to eat lettuce out of the garbage at some point.

HOWEVER, the Fire Nation seems to basically a big subtropical archipelago, so I would guess that seafood and rice are common. If you want to write about characters eating, a. quick google for “traditional japanese cuisine” would help you come up with a menu really quickly.

Wikipedia says:

The traditional cuisine of Japan, washoku (和食), lit. "Japanese eating" (or kappō (ja:割烹)), is based on rice with miso soup and other dishes; there is an emphasis on seasonal ingredients. Side dishes often consist of fish, pickled vegetables, and vegetables cooked in broth. Seafood is common, often grilled, but also served raw as sashimi or in sushi.

But before we get too serious, at one point the Gaang eats a “smoked sea slug” (Sokka’s Master) 

Oh ATLA, never stop being you.

b) Utensils

One thing to keep in mind is chopstick etiquette. Someone like Zuko or Toph, for instance, would have completely internalized all of these.

Another thing is that there are no glasses. Cups and bowls are made of ceramic or clay. Let the Gaang show you:

And another note: characters won’t eat “bread” in the European sense, ie. a baked lump of dough. Steamed buns, yes. Fried pancakes made from batter, yes. Flatbreads, okay I’ll give it a pass. Rice or noodles should be the most common carbs of choice.

3.ETIQUETTE

“In the homeland, we bow to our elders” - angry schoolmistress in The Headband.

Japan Guide has a list of etiquette rules for visiting Japan, which is interesting but not too necessary to read. In general, based on what The Headband tells us, Fire Nation characters would have been raised with a strong nationalist curriculum that values communal contribution over individualist expression. Even someone like Zuko, who openly rebels against that, probably couldn’t help but be affected by it. In general the Fire Nation seems to have an East Asian-ish set of values. It’s patriarchal, all the positions of authority are filled by men; there seems to be a strong emphasis on patriotism; there’s a sense of diffidence and respect towards one’s elders; and finally, there’s an emphasis on “knowing” one’s place in society and fitting into what’s expected of oneself.

I don’t really know how to describe it, but in China and Japan I sometimes feel like there’s rules for everything, and even people born and raised there acknowledge it could be stifling at times. You could go down a rabbit hole researching points of etiquette (for instance, rules on who has to sit where in group dinners...), but to me the most important thing is acknowledging that Fire Nation has a rigid system of etiquette, and also, they’re an imperialist power who’s pretty prejudiced against foreigners. Poor Aang/Kuzon gets called “mannerless colony slob” just for being slow on the bowing action (!!!)

(in firebender’s guide I had a lot of fun imagining the stupid microaggressions Ambassador Sokka has to face in the Fire Nation, so obviously I’m just biased)

4.WRITING AND DESKS

Characters would probably write on paper, with a calligraphy brush. Not quills or pens -- a brush. Technically, old Japanese and Chinese texts should be written top to bottom, right to left, but the show itself doesn’t do this, so I think you’re fine. 

One fun thing about traditional calligraphy is that you don’t use bottled ink. You have something called an ink stone, and then you grind your ink yourself by rubbing the ink stone in a special little dish with a bit of water. In my (very few) encounters with this stuff in the calligraphy lessons of my youth, the ink stones can be plain or have beautiful designs on the side. It looks something like this: 

ATLA is an East Asian-ish universe, so characters are likely to be kneeling at a table, not sitting. To demonstrate, here’s my boy Sokka doing his famous rainbow at Piandao’s:

and here’s the war chamber meeting when Zuko speaks out against a general’s plans to sacrifice some soldiers:

THERE ARE EXCEPTIONS: This is Zuko’s cute little setup when he’s writing his goodbye letter to Mai. In this case he’s writing in a chair and table. It’s possible that some furniture items, like a sitting desk and a bed in a bedframe (not a bedroll or futon) are special royal palace features. Normally in a private setting we see characters sitting on the ground or on a slightly elevated platform with a low table. Maybe Caldera is just different? Or rich people are just different: the Bei Fongs also have a sit-down dining table + chair setup.

(That little rectangular box is his ink dish!!)

5.A NOTE ON GENERAL CULTURE

It’s worth talking about a few general points of East Asian culture. I can’t claim to speak for ALL of Asia, and I don’t think I should. But I do think ATLA fic writers who want to set something in the Fire Nation should take a few moments to at least skim the wiki pages for filial piety and Nihonjinron (literally, "theories/discussions about the Japanese"). There’s a certain...vibe to...asianness... that I’m not sure I can explain without like, a doctorate degree in sociology. 

It’s a bit like gender, I guess. There’s no definitive checklist to what is a woman and what is a man, and we can argue that gender is performative, that it’s a construct, but at the end of the day gender is still (tragically) real in the sense that it still shapes people and affects how we walk and talk and dress and think. Nationality is the same. Obviously, the Fire Nation is a made up place in a made up show, but out of respect to the cultures that inspired it, I do think it’s worth familiarizing yourself with some of these cultures’ codes and values.

Also, ahem, if I can direct you to war crimes in the Japan’s colonial empire. Again, worth remembering that the Fire Nation was an imperalist colonizer too.

I might do a continuation of this post and talk through my more abstract takes about Fire Nation culture - Is Zuko an example of filial piety gone right or filial piety gone wrong? Why I think Zuko’s flashbacks are like, at least part teenage melodrama bullshit (the reason is son preference), how someone like Sokka might be treated once he’s openly Water Tribe in the Fire Nation (probably with racism...), specific aspects of asian homophobia and racism, etc. We’ll see.

This is not a definitive guide. Comments and critique welcome.

If you think there’s a factual mistake, PLEASE hop in my asks and let me know. I also think there’s a huge blind spot in ATLA for South and Southeast Asian representation, so I acknowledge that I can’t speak for all Asians, and there is no such thing as a “pan-asian” identity.

If there’s something else you’re curious about, I’m not a historian or anything, but I like research. Ask me and I’ll try to answer the best I can.

And oh, one last thing, this is how I do research when I wrote firebender’s guide, in case anyone’s interested in learning more (LINK)

[amor-immortalem]

Everything Undesired Chapter 3

Chapter 2

“So what’s the plan?” Beel asked as he and Satan followed Lucifer to the Demon Lord’s castle.

“I say we go for an instant kill,” the Avatar of Wrath smirked, “make an example out of them.”

"I'm hungry enough I could swallow them whole." Beel commented.

"No, a quick death is not what they deserve even if they'll find themselves stuck in the eternal torture they so rightfully deserve once they reach Asmo's court in the second layer." Lucifer stopped and turned to his brothers, a knowing smile graced his lips, "Rather, we'll torture them slowly. We'll make them suffer for every bit of pain they've inflicted on our brother before we even allow Asmo to deal with them. "

The demons nodded as the doors to the castle swung open. There waiting for them was Diavolo's ever so capable butler, Barbatos.

"Good evening," The ancient demon smiled, "Here to see the young Lord, are you?"

Lucifer would only nod as Barbatos led the way.

Levi paced about outside Mammon's room. How does he even begin to approach this? The thought was almost enough to send the Avatar of Envy scurrying back to his room.

"No, Levi your brother needs you right now! Ruri-chan would never leave someone who needs her behind so you won't either!" He took a couple deep breaths before opening the door and hit his brother who was coming out of the bathroom with the door. Mammon stumbled and just barely caught himself before he could take a tumble down the stairs.

"Damn, Levi," the Avatar of Greed groaned as he held a hand to his lower back. "It's like you're tryin' ta take me out..."

"I'm sorry. I thought you were still in bed and I-"

"It's fine. I've had worse, what's another bruise?" Mammon attempted to force a smile- to crack a joke as he leaned against the railing. "So what's up? Need something?"

"We all know what happened to you, Mams..." Levi frowned. "Asmo figured it out when we were having a family meeting while you were out of commission." He only watched as his older brother shoulders tensed up before relaxing.

"It's funny right?" He let out a bitter laugh, "I'm s'pposed ta be this big strong demon, but I end up getting tied down and used like a glorified sex toy- a cheap whore... fourth most powerful demon in the devildom my ass."

"No, its not funny." the purple haired demon frowned. "We all feel so bad for you. Personally, I can't even begin to imagine what you went through. I feel bad. There were a lot of nights were I saw you coming home super late. Part of me wonders if I had reached out to you then if we could've found out sooner..."

"It wouldn't have done anything... They ordered me not to talk." Mammon had a distant look on his face. "Even if I could've, I wasn't really all that there. After the third time, it just got to be too much and I just checked out. I don't actually remember coming home most nights... just waking up in bed like it was all some horrible nightmare..." At this, Mammon started to move down the stairs and took a seat on one of the couches.

Levi followed him down, talking a seat on the opposite end of the couch. "Why did you do this to yourself? The not eating and sleeping I mean."

"The nightmares just got to be too much so sleeping just became not worth it and I don't really know why I started starving myself.... one day I just... couldn't eat- at least not more than a few bites every couple of days anyway. If I had anymore than that it was hard to keep down. Maybe it was the guilt I felt that was making me sick..."

At his brother's word's the demon cocked a brow. "Guilt? Why do you feel guilty? You didn't do anything wrong."

"I feel like I cheated on Arella- like I didn't love her enough to fight harder against the witches. Levi, ya don't understand. I finished- multiple times at that so I must've enjoyed it deep down..."

The Avatar of Envy's jaw dropped at that statement. "That doesn't mean anything! So what if you finished? It was just a physical reaction to a stimulus. Its the same as sneezing when someone tickles a feather under your nose. A-and cheating's only a thing that can happen when both parties consent to it. It doesn't count if you get raped- at according to humans anyway."

"It still doesn't change the way I feel though. Honestly, I'd be surprised if she still even wants me at this point."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm damaged goods, Levi. You know what women down here are like- humans can be like that too... they don't want a guy who can't protect himself from somethin' like this cause that means he can protect him."

"Yeah but not Arella!" Levi stood up a deep frown on his face. "She's different and you know it. I can't believe you would even say that about your own girlfriend."

Mammon only frowned at him. He grabbed a blanket that had been draped over the back of the couch and cocooned himself in it. "I know 's a stupid thing to think, Levi, but 'm not used to someone like her. If I was datin' any other girl she'd have left me on the spot."

"I-I'll be back," Seeing his older brother this way, seeing the Avatar of Greed in this bad of shape, the purple hair-demon realized he was not the person most equipped to deal with this sort of thing. Instead he would go get Asmodeus, certain that the Avatar of Lust was the only person who could really help their brother. "I'm going to get Asmo."

Mammon would only watch his brother go silently. In all honesty, he was greatful to his little brother coming to see him. He did need someone to echo the words his human had said to him earlier even if he himself wasn't yet convinced.

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

"Asmo, there's an emergency!" Levi just barged into his brother's room as Amsodeus looked up to him.

"What happened? Is Mammon alright?" Asmo looked up at him, pink to yellow gradient eyes filled with worry.

"Physically but he's in a real bad place mentally." Levi looked down. "Even back when our insults got to him so bad he wanted to.... unalive himself, he was never this bad. Arella’s still busy with making food for him and I wasn't any help, but as the Avatar of Lust you know so much more about how to help a victim than I do."

"That was the next stop I was planning to make after gathering up my nail polish and other tools but all that can wait, I suppose." He gave Levi a reassuring smile. "As long as you attempted to reassure him that this was never his fault to begin with you've done more than enough." The demon rose placing a hand on his older brother’s shoulder. "Don't worry, Levi. We'll get our brother back to his old self eventually- It make take a few years and many late night talks with all of us but it will happen. Given the right support, a victim can heal. Maybe not completely, but at least enough where its not the only thing they think about and Mammon has always been a resilient person.

The Avatar of Envy only nodded as he and the strawberry blonde demon walk out of his room together.

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

"Mammon, I'm back," Arella called as she entered the bedroom carrying a tray with two bowls of cup noodles placed on it. When she noticed him starting blankly at the screen of his D.D.D, her stomach dropped at the thought of those monsters daring to contact him again. She made her way down the staircase as quick as she could without spilling the bowls on the tray. When she got to the glass coffee table, she placed the tray on the table and placed a hand of his shoulder. "Give me your phone, Love." It was an order Mammon was all to eager to follow, practically shoving the device into her hands as he buried his face in his hands. "I made you two cups. Eat as much as you can, even if its only a few bites."

"I'm sorry. Please don't be mad. Don't leave me because of this..." The demon's voice quaked as he looked up at her.

"I promise I won't. No matter what's on this screen, I'm not leaving you for anything."

He could only nod as he picked up a cup as Arella took a look at his phone. She frowned at the messages on written in the group chat.

———————————————————————-

Next

Masterlist 2

[superfreakerz]

IJR 3

“It’s Just Research”

Rated M for smut.

Summary: AU. After having her smut-filled story criticized for being amateurish, Lucy decides once and for all it’s time to gain some experience in the world of sex. Her best friend, Natsu, agrees to help her with her research. Together, the two explore each other’s bodies, all the while denying their feelings for each other and insisting that they are just doing research.

Read earlier chapters on FF.net

Chapter 3

The Art of Seduction

“And then I told him to leave me alone. I mean seriously, Lu-chan, why are boys so infuriating? It’s like, I love Gajeel and all, but he can seriously get on my nerves!”

“Mhmm.”

“Like, how hard is it to say something nice every once in a while instead of making fun of me?”

“Mhmm.”

“Lu-chan? Are you even listening to me?”

“Mhmm.”

Lucy jumped in her seat as Levy’s hand waved in front of her face. With an apologetic grin, the blonde rubbed the back of her head. 

“Sorry, Levy-chan. What were you saying?” she asked.

Levy arched a brow at her. “Okay, what’s on your mind, Lu-chan? You’ve been zoning out this whole time. You haven’t even taken a sip of your smoothie yet!”

Lucy sighed, dragging her fingertip across the side of her plastic cup. Sure enough, the drink was no longer cold as she had been too busy daydreaming. 

She and Levy had agreed to grab smoothies at their favorite shop after the latter got into an argument with her boyfriend. Grabbing smoothies was their go-to ritual whenever they had to vent about someone, wanted to catch up, or just needed a dose of fruity deliciousness. Needless to say, they were there at least once a week.

“I’ve just been a little distracted lately,” Lucy answered, taking a long sip of her smoothie. Her face scrunched in disgust as the flavors no longer popped and the foam from the now old smoothie was all that came through the straw. 

“Oh yeah, how’s that guy you’ve been seeing?” Levy asked, leaning forward in interest. “By the way, are you ever going to tell me who he is?”

Lucy’s cheeks pinked, her eyes darting away from her curious friend. “Sorry, can’t tell you. It’s confidential information.”

Levy squinted her eyes at the girl, giving her a look the blonde couldn’t read.

Sighing, Levy replied, “Fine. Well how are things going between you guys? You said you would be willing to…” She looked around before leaning closer and whispering, “Have sex again. Did you ever do it?”

Lucy puffed out her cheeks in a pout. “That’s the thing! I talked to him about it and he agreed! But since then, we never brought it up again. Things aren’t awkward between us or anything, but I don’t know how to initiate it. It’s too embarrassing to just ask for it!”

“Well when are you seeing him again?”

“Later tonight. We’re supposed to watch a movie together.”

“That’s easy!”

Lucy tilted her head to the side, her brows raised. “What do you mean?”

Levy grinned. “All you have to do is make him make the first move!”

“How am I supposed to do that?” 

“It’ll be so easy, Lu-chan, I promise. All you have to do is show off your body a little more and maybe run your hand over his bicep. That should do the trick.”

“I don’t think so,” Lucy said skeptically. “He’s a little dense. I don’t think he would pick up on that.”

Levy stared at her for a moment before nodding. “Well in that case, we’ll pull every trick out of the book!”

“Trick?”

Levy gave a mischievous grin, one that was rare to see on her face if you weren’t close with her. “Okay, here’s what you’re going to do…”

Lucy stared at herself in the mirror, a skeptical frown on her face as she glanced over her outfit. Her black pleated skirt was incredibly short, sure to show off her bum with a gust of wind. The red shirt she wore was tight around her body, especially around her chest. Its neckline wasn’t particularly as low as some of the other shirts she owned, but it still showed off a good amount of cleavage. 

Pulling some thigh-high socks out of her dresser, she heaved them on before sliding her feet into some heeled boots. Standing back in front of the mirror, she tousled her hair a bit, just as Levy had instructed her to. 

Lucy wondered if this outfit would be good enough to seduce Natsu with. Her skirt wasn’t the shortest she owned, and she had plenty of other shirts to choose from that showed off her chest more, one pink shirt immediately coming to mind. But according to Levy, she should wear red. Apparently red put people in the mood. She didn’t know where Levy got that information from, but she trusted her enough to go with it. 

Glancing at the clock, Lucy quickly grabbed her purse. Natsu should be barging through her window at any moment, and she needed to make sure she had everything Levy instructed her to bring. She grabbed a lollipop from the Halloween candy she bought and with rosy cheeks, stuffed it into her purse. She hoped it wouldn’t come down to using that. That was just embarrassing. 

A gust of wind washed over Lucy’s back. She didn’t need to turn around to know that it was Natsu breaking in as always. Her heart started to beat faster, electricity jolting through her veins as she readied herself for tonight’s plan. Swallowing thickly, the girl turned to face him with a smile. 

“Hi, Natsu!” she greeted. Levy’s advice played in her head. 

“You should discreetly show off your body.”

Lucy nervously ran a hand through her hair before clasping her hands together at her thighs, causing her arms to squish her breasts together. 

“L-Lets go get dinner!” she exclaimed, hoping that her actions weren’t too transparent.

Natsu didn’t seem to notice the action- or her outfit- at all, which admittedly stung. “Okay! You’re buying!”

Lucy groaned before leading the way out of her apartment. 

They went to a local Italian bistro, which was close enough to Lucy’s apartment that they could walk- which was a good thing since Natsu’s motion sickness would’ve turned them both off. They were quickly led to a table and left with menus. After having a moment to look over the menus, they ordered their food. 

Once it arrived, Lucy looked down at her plate of seafood Alfredo and gulped. It was time for phase two of her plan. 

“Go out to dinner and moan while you eat. It’ll definitely get him in the mood!”

As Natsu practically inhaled his food like a wild beast, Lucy twirled some noodles on her fork before putting it in her mouth. Closing her eyes, she moaned, all the while trying to snuff out any embarrassment she felt. When she opened her eyes, she found Natsu staring at her.

“Is it working?” she wondered, excitement bundling in her stomach. She watched Natsu open his mouth to say something, then close it. 

“What is it?” Lucy asked, hoping she didn’t sound too eager. “Say it.”

“Well okay,” Natsu replied, rubbing the back of his head. Pointing to her food, he asked, “Can I have some?”

Lucy deadpanned. “What?”

“Can I have some?” Natsu repeated, his lips curling into a grin. “You made it sound like it was really good! I wanna try!”

Frustrated, Lucy pulled her plate closer to her with a huff. “Eat your own damn food!”

After dinner, Lucy was starting to feel deflated. Not only did her outfit not catch his attention, but her provocative movements and sultry moans didn’t work either. But she wasn’t done yet! She still had plenty of tricks up her sleeve thanks to Levy! And it was time to put her next plan to action. 

This plan luckily had two parts, so that if the first one failed, she had another one lined up. Reaching into her purse, Lucy pulled out the lollipop she packed earlier. Glancing towards Natsu to make sure he wasn’t watching, she pretended to drop it onto the ground. 

“Wear a short dress or skirt, then drop something. When you go to pick it up, he’ll stare at your butt. That should turn him on!”

The two stopped walking, Natsu arching a brow at the girl. 

“Oops,” Lucy said. “Let me just pick that up real quick!”

Making sure to arch her back as she bent down, she picked up the lollipop. She moved slowly, giving him more time to stare at her bum. Sure that she had it in the bag, she stood back up and turned to face him. 

Natsu stared at her, crossing his arms behind his head. 

Then he gave her a grin. 

“You’re clumsy, Luce!” he exclaimed with a laugh. 

Lucy huffed to herself, glancing at the lollipop. She didn’t want to have to resort to this part of the plan, but desperate times called for desperate measures. 

As the two continued their walk home, Lucy unwrapped the lollipop. 

“If none of that works, lick the lollipop and make it look sexy!”

Lucy slowly dragged her tongue over the lollipop before sucking on it. Releasing it with a pop, she began to twist her tongue over the candy. Seeing as how Natsu’s expression didn’t change, she added in her tactic from earlier. As embarrassing as it was, she moaned while licking the damn lollipop. 

And yet, nothing. 

Natsu’s face was a blank slate. 

When they arrived at Lucy’s apartment, she went straight into the bedroom with a huff. Angrily changing into some short pajama shirts and a loose, spaghetti strap tank top, she met Natsu back in the living room. He was setting up a movie on the couch. 

“What kinda movie do ya wanna watch? It’s your turn to choose,” Natsu said. 

“Horror!” Lucy replied immediately. 

“When you guys watch a movie, make sure it’s a scary one. That way when you’re scared, you can throw your arms around him and get closer to him! And make sure to sit close to him! And keep scooting your butt on him! There’s no way in hell he can resist that!”

Natsu eyed her. “Horror? You never choose horror. You always wanna watch those sappy movies.” 

“It’s called romance,” Lucy replied, sitting next to him on the couch. She made sure to sit so close to him that their thighs were flushed together and her bum was slightly on him. “Now, just choose one already.”

This was Lucy’s last plan, and she’d be damned if she failed. 

As the movie started playing, Lucy squirmed in her seat, pretending that she was trying to get comfortable while rubbing her bum on his thigh. She peeked at Natsu in the corner of her eye to see if it was working, but he was engrossed in the movie. 

When a scary part of the movie popped up, Lucy squealed and latched onto Natsu, squeezing his arm between her breasts. 

And still, nothing. 

That was it. She was all out of tricks. 

Huffing, Lucy pulled her arms off of him. She couldn’t believe that after all that, she couldn’t even get him to look at her. Was she not appealing at all? Was the sex not good enough last time to make him interested? Had he changed his mind since they last talked about it?

With a sigh, Lucy went to move away from him when his arm wrapped around her waist, warm hand gripping her side. She stilled, heat traveling through her body from the simple touch. 

“Hey, Lucy,” Natsu started, his eyes still locked to the TV, “I don’t know if you still wanna do this whole friends with benefits thing, but I would be down to help you do some research right now.”

Lucy blushed, her stomach coiling with excitement. “O-Oh?”

“Yeah. I’ve been wanting to all day, but I didn’t know if you still wanted to or not.”

“I do!” She nearly face-palmed with how desperate she sounded.

Natsu finally turned to face her. It was then that Lucy saw the lust that glinted in his dark orbs. 

Lucy’s heart leapt up into her throat as Natsu scooted closer to her, his face just centimeters away from hers. She watched as his eyes began to droop closed. He cupped the back of her head, slowly bringing her close. 

A knot grew in her stomach as Natsu’s lips grazed hers. Her body felt like it was being sent over the edge, every sense heightened. 

As Natsu deepened the kiss, Lucy wasted no time in repositioning herself on his lap. Thanks to the thin, silk shorts she was wearing, it wasn’t hard to feel the bulge beneath her. Her body moved on its own, hips grinding to create glorious friction. He gripped her hips while tugging on her lower lip with his teeth. A soft growl resonated in his throat. 

“Let’s take this to your bed,” he whispered. 

Lucy ignored him, sinking her lips over his neck as he carried her towards the bedroom. He plopped her on the bed before tearing his clothes off. She went to take off her tank top when his hand grabbed hers. 

“I wanna do it,” he said with an eager grin. 

Lucy nodded. ��Alright just hurry.”

Natsu chuckled. “Someone’s a little impatient, huh?”

“Natsu, if you don’t put your hands on me in the next second, I’m going to-!”

Before she could even finish her threat, Natsu tore her tank top off in a flash. 

“There, happy now?” he asked with a smirk.

Lucy snaked her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. “Very. Now let’s do this thing already.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice!”

He caged her beneath him, washing his lips over her neck. His hand slid over her breast, kneading the flesh. He teased her nipple, having learned last time that the nubs were sensitive. 

Lucy arched her back into his touch. She could feel the knot in her stomach grow as each second passed. 

He lowered himself onto her, his hot shaft sliding between her folds. As he pushed himself inside, she wrapped her legs around her torso and brought him in deeper. 

Natsu let out a shaky breath. He clenched tightly onto the bed sheets, trying to rein in his body's urges. He moved slowly at first to warm up, moving around in circles. As he tried to pull out, her walls clung tightly to his shaft, tugging on the sensitive skin. 

Lucy’s breath picked up as he started to go pound into her. Gripping his biceps, she tried to keep herself in place as he thrusted harder and harder. Her stomach coiled, the pleasure building up. She could feel herself nearing climax. 

“N-Natsu,” she breathed out, weakly tapping his arm. 

He pulled his head back to look at her but kept pushing inside of her. “What? Does it not feel good?”

“It’s not that, it f-feels amazing.” A moan slipped past her lips as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. “I-It’s just that I want to try something new.”

Natsu slowed his movements, moving in slow circles. Lucy gnawed on her lower lip. She didn’t know that moving slowly was just as good as moving fast. 

“I-I want to be on top,” she said, her voice breathy. 

Natsu finally stopped, which Lucy was part thankful and part disappointed for. 

“Okay,” he replied, getting off of her. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he eagerly laid on the bed, watching Lucy position herself on top of him. 

Lucy inhaled sharply as his shaft sank deep inside of her as she lowered herself over him. Once it was as deep as she could get it, she slowly rocked herself back and forth. 

Natsu groaned, his hands gripping her thighs. It was hard to keep his eyes open while the pleasure began to skyrocket, but he just had to get a good look at Lucy. Her hair was messy, her eyes squeezed shut. Her head hung back as she grinded against him, her mouth hanging open. He moved his eyes down to her breasts. They bounced with each rock against him. 

One thing he knew for sure, he loved watching Lucy ride him. 

Meanwhile, Lucy was in pure ecstasy. This new position allowed his cock to reach deeper than before. Moving her body in a circular motion, she could feel herself edging closer to climax. Wanting to experiment on herself a bit, she brought her hands up to her breasts and began to message herself. 

Natsu’s gut coiled as he watched Lucy fondle herself. Unable to help himself, he moved his hands onto her hips and moved her roughly over him. A breathy moan escaped Lucy’s lips and before she knew it, she was shaking with pleasure, his name slipping out of her mouth. Seeing her finish while riding him was enough for Natsu to break. He moaned, clenching onto her silky hips while pleasure shot out of him. When they could no longer move, Lucy collapsed beside him in pants. 

“Oh wow,” she breathed out. “That was even better than last time.”

Natsu nodded, still trying to catch his breath. As he laid there, he wondered how he got so lucky to be able to be the only person to see Lucy this way. To see her face flushed with heat, sweat glistening on her body. To hear her scream his name. He must’ve done something right in his past life to be able to have earned this privilege.

“Alright, I’m going to go take a shower now,” Lucy said, bringing him out of his thoughts and walking towards the bathroom. 

“Oh, I’ll join you.” 

The girl stopped in her tracks, whirling around to face him. “Umm, what?”

Natsu shrugged, giving her a look as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “What?”

Lucy blushed madly. “Y-You can’t shower with me, idiot!”

“Luce, hate to break it to ya, but what we just did together is a hell of a lot more intimate than taking a shower.”

“No it isn’t!”

Natsu rolled his eyes. “Fine, then I’ll take one after you. I don’t wanna walk home like this.” 

Lucy nodded. “That’s fine. I’ll make it quick.”

He plopped on the bed. “Uh-huh, sure you will.” He frowned when he heard the door click behind her. If that wasn’t enough to remind him that she didn’t feel the same as him, he didn’t know what was. 

After Lucy’s shower- which was quite long despite her promise of keeping it quick- he headed in right after her. The water pelted his back as he thought long and hard about the situation he was in. On the one hand, it was great to be able to have sex with Lucy. Glorious. On the other, it only made his feelings for her stronger. He wasn’t sure how he would hold up when she eventually decided to end things. Would he truly be able to bounce back? Would he go back to playing the role of best friend? 

He was always there to listen to her vent after her failed dates. He was there for her whenever she had crushes on other boys. He listened and waited, hoping that one day she would look at him in such light. Now was his only chance to change her perception of him. He didn’t want to just be her friend anymore. He wanted to be the one to take her on dates. He wanted to be the one that she gushed about to her friends. He wanted all of her. 

After finishing his shower, Natsu turned off the faucet and quickly dried off. Having spent many nights at Lucy’s apartment, the boy already had spare clothes to change into. Heading back to the bedroom, he found Lucy laying in bed, scrolling on her phone. He jumped into bed beside her. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, giving him a pointed stare. 

Natsu gave her a cheeky grin. “Eh, walking home now would be a pain in the ass. C’mon, let me stay here.”

Lucy rolled her eyes but didn’t protest, which was usually how that conversation went. Once Natsu decided he was sleeping over, there was no changing his mind. Besides, she liked the company. 

“Whatcha watching?” Natsu asked, scooting closer to the phone. 

Lucy lifted her head and rested it on his arm. She knew it might’ve been perceived as intimate by others, but this was just how she and Natsu were. 

“Just a new dance trend going around.”

He laughed. “You should do that!”

“Why? So you can make fun of me?”

“Yep!”

She nudged him before playing the next video. Over time, her eyes grew heavy. She placed her phone on the nightstand and turned towards him, her head still resting on his arm. 

“I’m going to bed now,” Lucy said with a yawn. 

Natsu brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face. “Alright. Night, Lucy.”

“Goodnight, Natsu.”

And together they slept in their usual position, more than friends but less than lovers.

[kitkat1003]

Where the Ice Crushes the Wave

Warning, this fic contains instances of:

Dubious Consent  Possession  Emotional Manipulation  Abuse  Minor Character Death  Hurt No Comfort  Blood and Gore 

Summary:

I don't know if you've heard of Possessed Tang, but it's everywhere on tumblr, and it's basically an excuse to hurt Pigsy.  I decided to go ham. The warnings I put are real.  Viewer Discretion is advised.

AO3 Link

Pigsy notices something is wrong immediately.

It’s not hard.  He’s been watching Tang for years, knows him like the back of his hand.  He knows that Tang is always there when he opens, at least for a few minutes.  They’ll banter, then Tang will disappear for a few hours before arriving at lunch to steal some noodles.  At some point, Pigsy will yell, chase him out but not really, and Tang will laugh all the while.

On a good day, Pigsy will invite Tang upstairs, and they eat dinner in Pigsy’s apartment.  They’ll sit in front of the TV for hours, making fun of idiots in cooking shows, and Pigsy will deliberate over and over on the idea of moving his hand to hold Tang’s.  He never does, because he’s afraid to push, afraid to ask for too much and lose what he already has.  

Pigsy can feel the power he has, vibrating in his skin, hidden because the person he used to be is not who he wants to be now, ever.  He knows that if he let that loose, if he grew tall and strong and dangerous, everyone around him would suffer; he holds it all in.

He just waits for Tang.  He can be patient.  He has spent a thousand years learning to be, and he thanks his master for teaching him, because if he was to wait for anything it would be this.

He’d spend an eternity and a day waiting for that.

For four days, though, Tang doesn’t come to the shop at all.

Pigsy texts him, calls him, and gets nothing.  He shouts more, is biting and sharp for those four days, wracked with worry and desperate for answers.

He searches even the town once.  Twice.  He waits, because that’s what he’s good at, but at the same time he wants to grow large and take charge, to roar into the night and shake the world until it tells him where his Tang is.

Four days of waiting before Tang appears in the shop in the morning.  He smiles and waves, as if he hadn’t blown Pigsy off for four days, as if he hadn’t worried Pigsy sick.

“Where the hell have you been?!” Pigsy grabs Tang by his scarf and pulls, too angry and worried and hurt to stop himself.

Tang starts but gives him an easygoing smile in return.  That’s what tips Pigsy off first.  The curve of the lips is wrong, more cunning than kind.

“Sorry-family emergency.” Easy deflection. Tang shrugs.  “I kept meaning to text you back, but stuff kept coming up.”

Pigsy could almost accept that, except Tang has never brought up his family before.  To talk about them now, it seems too...convenient.  And regardless of that, Tang has never left Pigsy in the lurch like this.  It’s too out of character.  A quick text to say ‘I’m okay’ would take but a minute.  Tang is kind enough to give Pigsy a minute of his time, he wouldn’t just let Pigsy sit worried.

Right?

He stares at Tang, squinting a little, and almost lets him go.  But then.

“You changed your glasses,” he notes.

The rims are blue.  He can see traces of snowflakes on the lenses.

Tang smiles, eyes shut and head tilted to one side.  Pigsy is suddenly aware of something dangerous, sitting beneath his friend’s skin.  The hairs on his arm stand up straight, and it is so, so obvious now that this isn’t Tang at all.

“Yes,” Not Tang says, and his smile is all teeth.  “Do you like them?”

Pigsy knows a challenge when he sees one, and he takes a breath.

“Prefer your old ones, actually,” he grunts out.  “Blue isn’t your color.”

Not Tang laughs.  It sends a shiver down Pigsy’s spine.  But it isn’t just fear, no, his cheeks color.

“On that, Pigsy, we will have to disagree.” His name out of Not Tang’s mouth sounds foreign, but it’s Tang’s voice, and Not Tang curls something soft and sweet around Pigsy’s name like it knows.

Pigsy goes to work, and firmly refuses to look over his shoulder.

He can feel Not Tang’s eyes on him anyway.

MK doesn’t notice anything wrong with Tang.  Mei doesn’t either.  Not Tang tells MK a story, talks animatedly with Mei about her next race and promises to be there.  Pigsy makes a bowl of noodles on autopilot and hands it to Not Tang.  Not Tang holds the chopsticks differently.  Not Tang doesn’t slurp up the noodles and fails to give Pigsy a smirk when he finishes the bowl, like Tang would have.

Pigsy is tense the whole day, and he waits until MK heads upstairs and the shop is closed to do anything.

“Can I walk you home?  Figure we should talk.  Haven’t seen ya in four days,” he jerks a thumb towards the door.  Not Tang tilts his head to the side, and his glasses flash in a way that is so familiar, and yet makes Pigsy shiver again.

“Sure.  I missed you.” And Pigsy is taken aback, because it sounds like Not Tang means it.  Maybe he—no, he knows this isn’t Tang.

But how much is it not Tang?

They walk out of the store, and down a block or two.  Pigsy doesn’t know where Tang lives, though he suspects somewhere near the library, but Not Tang is following his lead.  Looks like Not Tang doesn’t know, either.

He grabs Not Tang by the scarf, and drags him into an alley.  He slams Not Tang against the wall, hard but not too hard because Not Tang is still Tang’s body. Tang is still mortal.

“I don’t know who the hell you are,” he starts, and he lets his tusks out, baring his sharp teeth like a challenge, a growl in his throat.  His eyes glow ocean blue, his nostrils flare.  “But you better get the fuck out of my friend or—”

The words die in his throat as Not Tang laughs, cold and dark, and as he looks up and sees his own gaze met with something sharp and blue and icy.

“Or what, Bajie?” 

His voice has an undercurrent of something familiar, another voice Pigsy recognizes.  He wracks his brain.

“What, don’t recognize me?  Not surprising, when only one of your troupe ever could.”

That has Pigsy stumbling back, because he knows, now, he knows what that means.  It’s a stain on his pride, one of his many regrets, it’s—

“Baigujing,” he breathes, and she laughs.

“In the flesh, so to speak.  Does he suit me?” she asks, tugging on Tang’s skin and hair like one might with clothes.

She frowns, tilts his head to the side at an unnatural angle. “I’m not a fan of red,” she tells him. Then Tang changes, hair black to white from the roots.  It travels down, red to blue, silver to gold.  His skin gains a blue tint, as well.  The air around them drops in temperature, and Pigsy can see his breath.

She brushes herself off, takes a little bow, and all Pigsy can see is Tang who isn’t—this isn’t—how did she—

She takes a confident step forward, and Pigsy, in all his rage, still only sees blue.

“You get out of him right now, or—”

In a flash, she pulls out a knife and presses it against Tang’s throat.  Pigsy sees a few spots of red from where she’s pressing the blade, and cool terror sinks down his spine.  She wouldn’t, would she?  He can’t be sure, with how she’s wielding the weapon like a promise.  He takes a step forward out of panic, and stops when she raises a brow. 

“You do anything but what I say, and I stain this new outfit.” She smiles, and it’s Tang’s smile, the one that Pigsy melts under the sight of every time.  

But here, now, he’s ice.  Fear roots him to the spot and Pigsy swallows the lump in his throat.

“And if I tell the others about ya when you aren’t looking at me?” he grinds out between gritted teeth.

She tilts her head to the side. “Why would they believe you?  After all, you wouldn’t believe your own brother,” Pigsy flinches, remembering how easy it was to get Triptaka to banish Wukong, because Bajie never would pass up an opportunity to call his brother a liar, to hurt him.  “Turnabout’s fair play, and you’re on the losing side.”

Pigsy clenches his fists.  He can feel the desire to get big, to roar, to tear her out of him, rise in his chest.  But this can’t be solved with violence, as easy as he wants it to be.  Pigsy has never been good at diplomacy.

“What do you want,” he spits out.

She brushes Tang’s hair out of her eyes.  They glow in the evening light, bright and malicious.

“I have a few errands, and while this mortal is useful, he is a bit...weak.” She flexes Tang’s fingers experimentally.  “You’re quite the muscle.  I think you’d be quite useful, hmm?”

Pigsy does know a challenge when he sees one, but this time, he’s backed into a corner, with no way out, so he slumps his shoulders.

“Alright.  Just….just don’t hurt him.” It comes out a tired plea.  “And stop-don’t ruin him like that.” He gestures to her getup.  He’s sure she’s only showing him this to hurt him, because he wants Tang.  Not whatever this abomination is.  Just practically, it would give her away if she didn’t change back. Though he’s not sure how much of a choice he gets, regardless. 

She sighs, but after a moment the pleasant red and gold return, and Tang’s hair is black again.

“Fine.  Picky, though,” she places Tang’s hand on his cheek, cupping the side of his face, and Pigsy’s cheeks warm.  When he looks up, everything about Tang looks normal, except the blue rims on the glasses.  He looks away.

“Tomorrow,” he tells her.  “We’ll start tomorrow.  And once-once I’m done, you’re out of him, got it?” 

He glares, and she smiles, Tang’s mouth curving into something more unhinged.  Brown eyes glow light blue.

“It’s a date.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Tang doesn’t remember the few days that he disappears.  He doesn’t even remember disappearing, to be honest.  He just walks to the noodle shop as if nothing is wrong, because to him, nothing is.  

He can tell that something off, though.  Not wrong, but off, because when he walks the feeling of his feet against the ground is muted.  Everything is a little muted, like all of his senses are muffled by something.  He shakes his head a few times, to try and break through the fog.  It doesn’t work.

He waves at Pigsy when he walks in, and then nearly jumps when he’s grabbed.  He tries to open his mouth to say something, but suddenly everything goes cold, and he’s pushed back into his own head.  Someone else takes the reins, Something Else moves his lips.

Family emergency, he hears himself say.  He sees the reflection of himself in Pigsy’s eyes.  His glasses are different.  Pigsy notices.

He watches the Something Else make Pigsy very aware that the Something Else exists, and then he is thrown into the passenger’s seat.  When MK comes over to ask for a story, Tang is allowed to tell him one.  When Mei talks about her next race, Tang can avidly respond.

He keeps trying to explain that something’s wrong, to them, but when he opens his mouth to try and say the words nothing comes out, or the Something Else will say something.  A joke, or a fact, or nothing at all, and doesn’t silence sometimes speak the loudest.  

It knows too much about him and the longer he knows it’s in his head, the more he can feel it, cool tendrils poking into memories he’d rather have private.  It searches, it pries, and it leaves no stone left unturned, leaving Tang feeling vulnerable, invaded.

The day ends.  Pigsy asks to walk him home and Tang finds himself agreeing before he can stop himself, before it can.  He wonders if it even tried.

They walk, and it’s only a matter of time before Pigsy snaps.  Tang is honestly surprised it hasn’t happened sooner, when he’s unceremoniously thrown against the wall.  It hurts, but much like his other senses, the pain is muted.  He knows Pigsy isn’t using his full strength though.  Pigsy can throw people five times his size out the door with ease.

He follows the conversation with bated breath, and then he sees something like recognition flicker in Pigsy’s eyes, and he hears Baigujing, and it says Bajie, and—

Oh.

There’s a knife to his throat.  

He sees his reflection in Pigsy’s wide eyes.  His hair is white.  His eyes are a startling, glowing blue, and he can feel blood welling up where the knife pierces his skin.

Pigsy buckles.  Tang watches him leave.

“What do you want?” he asks, to the Something Else.

He gets farther and farther away from control with each step she takes in his skin, every moment he isn’t allowed to speak.  He can feel cool shackles on his wrists, thick as steel.

“You like him very much, don’t you?” A voice, chilling and cruel, rings in his ears.  Tang doesn’t need her to specify who she’s referencing.  They pass by a window, a storefront.  She stops, and turns to it, so Tang can see her smile with his mouth in the reflection.

Tang’s blood turns to ice, and he wonders if it’s because she’s the one in his body or if it’s just his fear, in the end.  She grins wider, and Tang’s helplessness and terror grow.

“I am going to break him, and you are going to watch.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next day Pigsy is quiet.  He doesn’t say much besides telling MK to take out the orders placed on the counter.  His eyes occasionally flick to her, to Tang, to the thing sitting on the counter that looks familiar in looks alone.

Pigsy knows he has to remember.  He can’t forget that this isn’t Tang.  Even when he sees her sitting on the same barstool with that same smile, when she learns how Tang holds his chopsticks and learns how Tang eats, even when she is already perfecting something that everyone else sees is perfect.

This isn’t Tang.  Pigsy can’t forget that.

That night, she gestures for Pigsy to follow her.  He does, walking step by step with her, waiting for her to tell him what to do.  She takes him toward the marketplace, where Pigsy goes to get his ingredients a few times a month.

“You remember that Spider Queen, don’t you?  Quite the adventure we had,” she says, and Pigsy bristles at the implication.

“You weren’t there,” he growls out. 

She places a hand on Tang’s chest, expression one of mock offense.  “How could I not have been?  I mean, you were there with me. Is this not the skin?” she tugs on the fleshy part of Tang’s wrist, hard enough that the skin goes red.  

Pigsy says nothing, and shrugs.  

“Regardless, the Spider Queen will get in my way if she isn’t handled, so you’ll take care of her.  Better to squash a bug before it grows.” She points to the Spider Queen’s stall.

“I don’t kill anymore,” Pigsy grunts.

He hasn’t for years.  He took that part of himself and locked it away, made himself small because he wanted people to feel safe around him without being scared of what he could do.  He doesn’t kill.  He makes people food, he doesn’t harm them more than any other mortal could.

The knife is back out, and Pigsy knows where she’ll imply it going.

“I do,” she purrs.  “And you’re mine, so you do too.”

Pigsy clenches his fists, and shifts.

He’d imagined showing Tang his demon form.  Imagined preparing for months, carefully explaining.  Imagined going someplace remote, someplace theirs, and revealing himself.  Imagined scenarios where Tang ran, imagined scenarios where Tang stayed.

He grows tall, and burly, and looming and powerful.  He’s about eight feet tall, here, with the muscles to match the height.  His rake appears in his hand, prongs sharp.  It’s as tall as he is, and the prongs are longer than his forearm.  She looks up at him with an impressed expression that looks wrong on Tang’s face, yet makes Pigsy’s cheeks burn anyway.

“Magnificent,” she breathes, and he shivers at the sound.

He holds his rake tight, setting it on his shoulder and glancing over to the stall.  He tries to stop his hands from shaking, as she leads him to the entrance.

“Give me a lift, won’t you dear?” she asks and Pigsy grits his teeth.

He lifts Tang up, gentle with his body because even if Tang isn’t the one asking Pigsy will be damned if he hurts him like this, and they descend.

The Spider Queen’s lair is as eerie as he remembers it, though it seems to have been upgraded.  There are pods of glowing green liquid everywhere, and a computer as well.  He catches what looks like a human bent over it, tapping at keys and sighing to himself.

“Is it done yet?  The world needs its Queen to return.” He hears her voice from the right, and shifts a little to hide as she comes in.  The man at the computer stiffens, and turns around at perfect attention, bowing.

“U-Unfortunately, such a complex undertaking is going to take more time, my Queen,” the man trembles out.

“What are you waiting for?” Tang’s voice slithers into his ear, and Pigsy fights back the urge to growl, letting out a huff of a breath and narrowing his eyes in annoyance.

“An opening,” he replies.

“This has to be done by New Years!  I want to start the Year of the Spider on time,” she growls the last part out.

“Y-Yes, my Queen,” The scientist replies.

She turns away, and that’s when Pigsy jumps down.  She just barely dodges his rake and Tang jumps off of his shoulder to settle in the shadows.  Fine.  Now Pigsy doesn’t have to worry about him getting caught in the crossfire.

The Spider Queen recovers quickly, getting into a battle stance.  She gives him a once over, and then smirks.

“So the pig is back to fight, hmm?  I would have liked to see you in this form last time,” She purrs out the words, chuckling to herself.

Pigsy charges without response.  He swings his rake, she ducks, throwing out a sharp leg.  He blocks with his arm and grunts when the blade edge of her leg digs in.  He lifts a leg and kicks her, no holds barred where her humanesque body and her spider body meet.  A weak point.

She lets out a shout of rage as she’s knocked back.  He slices to the right, knocking off her helmet.  Long, messy black hair tumbles down in front of her face.  She pushes it back, darts forward, throwing out some webs.

He dodges the first few, but one catches him by the foot, trapping him to the floor.  He twists and dodges as best he can when he can’t move, but she’s closing in.

He throws out the rake, in a last ditch attempt as she goes in for the killing blow, and catches her neck between two of the prongs, following through with the swing, bringing her crashing down onto her side.

“Fool!” she grits out, twisting her legs to try and stand.  “I am the Queen of this world!  I will feed you to my subjects, you—”

Pigsy twists the rake in one sharp motion.

Crack.

She goes very silent, and very still.  Pigsy breathes, as her body slumps down on itself.

Okay.  

Pigsy slowly, carefully, pulls away the rake.  

He waits for movement.  He finds none.

Okay.

“Do try and make sure she stays dead.”

He jumps at the sound, turning around to see Tang.

Tang is watching.  Tang.  Tang watched—

Not Tang.  He has to remember that.

Her eyes glitter in the low light.

“A broken neck can be fixed.  Make sure she can’t come back.  Wouldn’t want to have to deal with a vengeful Queen, right?” She gestures to the corpse.

Pigsy grips his rake tightly.

The prongs go through flesh far too easily.

He thinks they’re about done, but then she points to the computer.  More specifically, to the man cowering beneath the control panel of the computer.

“No witnesses,” she says. “Get rid of him.”

Pigsy is frozen in his spot.

“Please,” the man begs. “I didn’t want to help, I had no choice!  She was going to kill me-I-I’ll destroy everything I did!  I’ll delete the code.  Everything!”

“You misunderstand.” Tang-she-walks carefully towards the cowering mortal.  “We didn’t do this to save the world.  We did this to get her out of my way.”

Dawning horror flashes on the man’s face.

Pigsy hesitates.  A demon is one thing, this is just a mortal.  A human.  Pigsy glances at the man, and imagines her pointing him at MK.  Or Mei.  He couldn’t.  He can’t.

“Would you rather I do this?” She pulls out the knife, pointing it at the man.  “I know you prefer him in red, though I hear blood is difficult to get off clothes.”

At the thought of Tang, who could be still in there, having to watch himself kill, Pigsy moves.

The man hedges his bets and runs.  He ducks under the knife and Pigsy’s outstretched arm, sprints toward the exit, but Pigsy’s arm swings around after him.  He can’t take more than a step forward because his foot is still stuck by the webs, but his legs are long and his arms much the same.  He reaches over in a panic, and grabs the man by the head, aiming to muffle his shouting, stop him from doing anything while Pigsy tries to negotiate, when—

There’s a sickening crunch, and squelch, and the man goes limp.

Pigsy is very, very aware of the liquid dripping from between the spaces of his fingers.  He’s afraid to open his hand.

She claps, then is at his side, cutting him free of the webs.

“Good work.” She pats him on the side.

Pigsy trembles.  Slowly, he opens his hand.

All of his body falls but the head. The head.

Pieces drop, clattering or squishing or dripping.  Pigsy’s hand is covered in it. Hair clings to his fingers.  Skin folds in on itself on the ground, with nothing solid to hold it taut.

Pigsy feels like he’s going to be sick.  He didn’t mean….he hasn’t taken this form in years, decades, he isn’t used to the power it holds.  He didn’t mean to, he was panicked, he just, he needed the man to stop.  That was it, it wasn’t on purpose, he didn’t mean—

“Feels good,” she whispers in his ear, somehow.  “Doesn’t it?”

Pigsy stumbles away, trying to shake the pieces, the blood, the person off of his hand.  He trips over the Spider Queen’s body and crashes into the computer, destroying it.  His knees pull toward his chest as he tries to breathe.  

It takes a good minute for him to realize that she’s rubbing a hand up and down his back in a comforting manner.  He looks down at her, because even sitting he’s taller, and her smile is—that’s not hers.  

“Tang?” his voice is hoarse.  His tusks always get in the way of speaking.

Tang smiles.  It’s soft, pitying, almost sympathetic.

Pigsy feels himself melt, a little.  It’s almost familiar.

“It’s okay,” Tang says, but is it him?  Pigsy doesn’t know if he wants it to be.  A part of him craves the comfort of something familiar, another doesn’t want Tang to see him at his worst, covered in blood, with a body count.

“That’s enough for tonight,” Tang says, she says, Pigsy can’t tell.  His head is already trying to process what he’s done.  “Let’s go.  C’mon.”

Pigsy lets himself be helped up.  He lifts Tang onto his shoulder and climbs out of the cave, shivering when the chilly night air whips past him.  He still has a few hours before he has to get up for work.  He sets Tang down on the ground, shifts back to his smaller form.

Tang looms over him like this.  Pigsy regrets becoming small.

“Shall we?” Tang gestures towards Pigsy’s apartment.

Pigsy nods, and they walk home.  Once they arrive, Tang heads to the couch, and Pigsy to the bathroom.  He scrubs and scrubs at his hands, until the water stops turning pink and then some.  His palms burn, skin scraping against skin, but he can see the pieces that can’t fit in the drain.

He vomits, finally, in the toilet.  He coughs, wiping his mouth, and hunches over the sink, glancing at himself in the mirror.  Deep breaths.  He just needs to remember that this will be over, eventually.

“I’m going to bed,” he calls, as he leaves the bathroom.  

His hands are still shaking.  His throat burns, and he lets it, maybe as a punishment.  He doesn’t know.

“Goodnight!” Comes a voice that sounds too much like the real thing.  Pigsy takes in a shuddering breath and vanishes into his bedroom.

He curls underneath the blankets and tries to get the cold feeling to escape his bones.  It seems to settle in, regardless.

It takes him a long time to fall asleep.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Whatever Tang had imagined she’d make Pigsy do, it wasn’t this.  He watches as they head to the market, and then as Pigsy changes, per her request.

He wonders if Pigsy would have ever shown him this form otherwise.  As is, Tang is terrified, but not of Pigsy.  He’s worried for Pigsy.  Because he knows the power Zhu Bajie can wield. here He knows that she knows, too.

Watching Pigsy fight and kill is as impressive as it is heartbreaking.  He can see the shock, the horror, as Pigsy grapples with his actions.  Tang can’t fight the revulsion when he sees Pigsy kill the poor bystander but at the same time he can’t hate him for it.  

He could never hate Pigsy foremost, but in this instance, he can’t hold this carnage against him. Not when Pigsy curls in on himself, his bigger form trying to be as small as possible.  Not when he won’t look at his own blood-stained hands.

He moves to take a step, stumbles as she throws him the controls.  The longer he isn’t allowed to do anything, to speak, to move, the harder it is to get used to doing it when he has control.  He wonders if he’ll forget how to walk eventually.  He wonders if he’ll forget how to breathe.

He tries to comfort.  He’s not allowed to tell Pigsy that it’s him, because she won’t let him, but he can comfort, because she needs Pigsy functioning for this to work.  Maybe Tang should be offended that she’s using him, but truthfully,  he just wants to do something to help Pigsy.  He can’t just stand aside to watch.  It’s almost worth being used if he’s used to help.

Pigsy looks at him, then.  Tang wants to apologize.  To beg for Pigsy to stop. He doesn’t know if Pigsy can recognize that it’s him, either.  The words don’t make it to his throat and she throws him into the backseat again.

When they get home, Pigsy stays in the bathroom for too long.  Tang hears the sound of retching and winces.  He wishes he could do something, say something.

As he falls asleep, he still wishes he could apologize.  For something.  Anything.  Everything.

He can’t feel his legs.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next morning, Pigsy gets up and heads to work.  Tang is sitting upright on the couch.  Pigsy pointedly doesn’t look at him, quick while making breakfast, eating, and grabbing his chef’s coat before heading to the shop.  He typically starts two hours before opening, setting up the dough, stringing out noodles.

He’s slow, today.  His hands shake as he tries to work, he’s halfway to where he’s supposed to be when MK comes down, on time for once.  He forces himself to speed up because he knows calls will be coming in soon.

He sets the broth to boil, stirring once, glancing down at it to check its progress, and—

It’s red.

It’s red and it’s spilling from his fingers, sticky and thick as it falls into the broth, the stench of it has him trembling violently enough that the spoon slips from his fingers.  Pieces of hair and bone bubble up from the bottom, and Pigsy sees an empty eye socket, staring at him in terror, pleading horror, begging for mercy.

He grabs the pot and pours it into the sink, he can’t let anyone see it, can’t let anyone know what he’s done, the stains settling deep into his skin with no way out, no way to make it disappear.  A man is dead.  A man is dead and Pigsy killed him and it’s everywhere and everyone is going to know and he has to get rid of it.

When he pours it into the drain, there’s not a spot of red in it.  He watches his half an hour’s worth of work disappear with an unsteady breath, setting the pot back on the stove and washing his hands.  The water boils his fingers.

“Uh...Pigsy?” MK calls.  

Pigsy turns and does not look in the direction where he knows Tang will be.  He catches MK’s expression, brow is pinched in concern.

“What?” He doesn’t mean to growl the words out as he does.

“Um, why’d you do that?  It looked almost ready,” MK points to the now empty pot.

Pigsy hides his shaking hands by clenching them into fists. “Bad batch,” He replies, succinct.

When he glances MK’s way, he imagines how easy it would be for him to repeat last night.  Would it sound the same, the skull crunching in his grip quick, or would MK’s Monkey King powers offer enough resistance so that it’d be slow?  

Pigsy remembers his old name, his old title, his old desires.  He would fight with Sun Wukong and enjoy it.  He is powerful, then and now.

He promised himself he wouldn’t be that person again, that he’d be better.  But looking back at that journey, is it any wonder that he’s so quickly fallen back into the same bad habits?  Zhu Bajie was rude, cruel, a liar.

Why’d Pigsy expect that he could change?

“A shame.” 

He nearly jumps, at the sound of her voice, his voice. He glances at the blue rimmed glasses, brown eyes.  Warm and cold.

“It looked delicious, at least,” Tang says, head resting on his palm.  He smiles, soft.

Pigsy looks away.

He gets back to work.

Some of her jobs are simple.  Break something, find an artifact.  Pigsy learns not to ask questions, because none of the answers give him much comfort.  Occasionally, Pigsy will get his hands messy, stained with the blood of demons.  Those nights he barely sleeps, too busy trying to scrape the dried liquid from beneath his fingernails.

He justifies it, even though there is no true justification for the carnage.  Thankfully, there haven’t been any more mortal deaths.  The demons he fights are bad, he thinks, as he watches them bleed out on the floor.  The demons he fights would be going after MK if he didn’t get rid of them first.  

MK mentions offhandedly that there haven’t been as many demon fights recently.  Pigsy horrifies himself with the sick satisfaction he feels, the pride that swells in his chest.

He’s able to justify his actions, but it doesn’t fix the gaping hole in his chest with every swing of his rake.  The worst part, he thinks, is that it’s becoming easier to do.  There’s a certain familiar numbness that comes with a higher and higher body count.  He went through it thousands of years ago, when he first began fighting, and he goes through it now.

It settles in faster this time.  Must be his experience.

He stays in the kitchen more often during the day.  Ignores the banter between MK and Mei when they barrel in, only half hears the stories shared.  He tries to lose himself in the motions of cooking, something that’s his, safe.  He can still do this.  So he’s fine.

She’s always there, either at the counter during the day or by his side at night.  Pigsy makes a few valiant attempts to text someone, to tell them what’s happening, but she steals his phone and Pigsy isn’t allowed to touch it.  She nearly cut off Tang’s finger when he attempted to take it back.  He stops trying.

She follows him when he goes out, whether it be to the market or just on walks.  No one raises an eyebrow at this—Pigsy has always stuck close to Tang, and vice versa.  To the outside world, this is normal.  She can tease and cloy and claw her way close to him and it’s just the silly antics everyone else expects.  Any reaction Pigsy has is normal too, when he shouts and rages and pushes Tang away, because that’s just how he reacts.  He’s loud and he’s mad.

He’s being played and he’s playing right into her clutches, but he doesn’t know what he can do.

Pigsy is so tired.  Some days, he manages to convince himself that things will be fine, soon.  He has to think it will be. If the demons were stronger than him, he thinks, maybe they’d deserve to live.

If they were stronger than him, maybe he’d get to stop.

Another development, one he can’t wrestle his feelings together on, is how Tang, how she, acts during their expeditions.  There are lingering touches across his back, fingers trailing on his neck, a palm cupping his cheek.  Sweet smiles thrown his way, gentle words whispered into his ear, arms curling around his form as he’s pressed against Tang’s body.

Every time he freezes, caught between revulsion and want, because he loves.  Desperately.

That’s why he’s doing this after all.  That’s why he even bothers.  Sleepless nights, reopened wounds, returns to bad habits—it’s all for a man Pigsy cares just a little too much for.

She gets bolder with each passing night.  Interlaces their fingers when he sets his hand on the counter during the day.  Sends him compliments that make him weak in the knees.  He knows that it’s not Tang, but sometimes he wonders.  Maybe hopes. 

Because she’ll smile at him, but it'll be Tang’s smile, soft and almost a smirk but never quite there.  He doesn’t know if that means Tang is still in there or if she’s just getting better at pretending to be him.

He doesn’t know which is worse.

It’s a little over a month later, one night after a job that leaves Pigsy’s hands bloody and his eyes weary, that he gives way, collapses in on himself.  He grabs Tang’s scarf in shaky hands and trembles, because he’s so tired.  He misses his best friend. He misses the person he’d do anything for, the person he’s doing the unspeakable for.

“Please,” he whispers, voice hoarse.  “Take me-just-I’m stronger than him-I won’t fight back, you can do all the damage you want just—” he chokes on the words.  “Give him back to me.  You can have me, just give him back.” 

He takes a shuddering breath, blinking away tears.  They fall down his face anyway.

“Please.”

He trembles against Tang, something familiar made foreign because she’s stolen it from him, against something as silence fills the space.

Soft hands lift his chin and he hears a chuckle so familiar.  He hates that doesn’t know who is laughing.

“Oh, Pigsy,” And it’s her, and it’s Tang, and Pigsy searches for understanding as a thumb brushes away his tears.  She, Tang, leans down until their eyes are level.

Pigsy searches for something familiar in them.  

His favorite color is the color of Tang’s eyes, brown with a hint of red, soft and warm.  

“Why would I need you, when you’re already giving yourself to me?”

And then Tang-she-his lips collide with Pigsy’s and-and-and—

Pigsy’s eyes are wide.  This is-he’s wanted this for years, it’s everything, nothing, all at once.

He shouldn’t like this.  This isn’t-it isn’t Tang.  But Pigsy is pressed against the wall as Tang’s body leans forward, like everything Pigsy has ever wanted, and Pigsy closes his eyes.  He closes his eyes and forgets, just for a moment, where he is and what’s happening, decides to be selfish.

When his eyes are closed, he can’t see anything.  He can only feel Tang’s hands on the sides of his face, holding him so tenderly, Pigsy’s hands still bunched up in that scarf.  He can’t see the glowing blue eyes, or the smirk, he can only feel the smile against his lips.

Tang pulls away first.  Pigsy drops his hands and nearly trips over himself, eyes wide open again to blue eyes and a wide smile and a laugh that is cruel and knowing.  

“My, my, that sure was something!  You really are desperate, aren’t you?” she says.

Pigsy wipes his mouth, trembling.  He feels sick, not because he didn’t like it, but because he did.  Does.  

“You-I—” he tries to explain himself, but she tuts and walks forward with a small smile on her face, patting him on the head like one would a dog.

“It’s alright, I understand.  For a mortal, he is attractive.” She fiddles with Tang’s hair.

Pigsy wants to throw up.  He wants to scream.  He wants to throttle her, but he can’t hurt Tang.  

He might have already.

How much does Tang see, does Tang feel?  Did he see this, feel this?  Did he watch Pigsy use him, like the monster he is, because Pigsy is selfish?  The thoughts spiral deeper and deeper into something self destructive and Pigsy bites on his thumb hard enough to make it bleed.

“If it’s any consolation, he loves you too,” she says, and Pigsy freezes.  “Do you think he never noticed how your hand would twitch toward his?  You’re terribly obvious, but he’s a coward as well.”

Pigsy feels his breathing pick up.

Tang, he, he love-loved?  Past tense, did Pigsy ruin it?  Did he break something he never even had?  Might not ever have, now?

A hand trails across his back and Pigsy shudders.

“No need to worry.” She leans in close, until Pigsy can feel her cool breath against his ear.  “If you’re good, I think I can make this happen again.”

And then she walks away, leaving him in the wreckage.  Pigsy breathes, clenches and unclenches his fists, fighting back the urge to cry because he doesn’t have the energy for more tears.  He moves to leave, when—

“It seems you do have a bit of control left,” he hears, right before she’s out of earshot.

Everything goes cold.

What does that mean?  Was the kiss...was that Tang?  Or was it-what does that mean?

The more he thinks about it, the more his head goes through loops.  Tang is in there.  Tang has control-some, a bit, no specifics.  Pigsy isn’t a thinker, he doesn’t know how possession works.  Maybe-maybe Pigsy isn’t as terrible as he thinks he is.  Maybe that means, maybe, it wasn’t all a lie?

His walk home takes ten minutes longer than it should.  He keeps bringing up his fingers to his mouth, tracing the spaces where Tang’s lips slotted into, like a perfect puzzle.  Every part of him she touched tingles like static, and Pigsy can’t think, can’t find a single thought.  If it wasn’t Tang, if it was just her...

He doesn’t know how to cope with the fact that he doesn’t want this.  Not like this.

He doesn’t know how to cope with the fact that deep down, he does.  Regardless.

What kind of monster does that make him?  

Is it worse than the one he already is?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Tang is quiet when she kisses Pigsy.  He doesn’t feel anything, touch long lost to his senses, floating in empty space.  Some days, he doesn’t know where he ends and she begins but he knows that he has no weight to himself, not anymore.

He’s quiet, an ache in his chest growing ever painful as Pigsy gives in, and he wonders if it would have been like this if it were him.  Something in the heat of the moment, passionate, real.

He wonders and grieves a life he isn’t having.  She uses his mouth and whispers sickly sweet nothings and turns Pigsy around so that Tang isn’t sure that Pigsy knows what’s up and what’s down.  She walks away and leaves Pigsy to try and collect himself, and all Tang wants to do is say sorry.

For what, he isn’t sure.  This isn’t his doing.  But that was him all the same.  

Tang bows his head and sniffles.  He watches her wipe his eyes.

“It seems you do have a bit of control left,” she says, staring down at the tears in his palm.  She flicks the water away.  “Get over yourself.  If you wanted this, you should have made it happen.  You had plenty of time.”

And the worst part, Tang thinks, is that with the years he’s known Pigsy, he knows she’s right.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Pigsy tries to keep some semblance of normalcy after that, though it’s hard.  He can feel Tang’s eyes on him, gaze lingering as Pigsy moves, day after day.  He tries to keep his cheeks from flushing, tries from reacting at all, when Tang looks his way.  He forces himself to remember that the kiss wasn’t right, wasn’t Tang.

But at the same time he can’t forget what he heard.  What it could mean.  Pigsy has mired himself in despair so deeply that the scrap of hope he feels is enough to keep him teetering on the edge of something dangerous, something selfish.  

There’s a change in the air between them, he knows. MK and Mei notice too, as much as he tries to keep this from them, keep them safe.  He doesn’t want them trapped, like he is.  He couldn’t handle it if they were.

“You guys have been acting weird.” Mei hops up to the counter as she speaks, glancing between Tang and Pigsy with squinted eyes.

“Oh?” Tang asks, leaning his head on his hand.

Not Tang.

“Yeah, you guys have been real clingy,” MK slings an arm around Mei’s shoulders, rubbing his chin with his hand.  

Mei brightens.

“You guys have finally gotten together, haven’t you!” She points an accusatory finger at the both of them.

Pigsy freezes.  Flushes from his feet all the way up to the tips of his ears, and Tang laughs, a soft, sweet, bell of a laugh.

“Were we that obvious?” Tang chuckles into his sleeve.

Mei bounces in her seat, and MK looks away, a little flustered himself at the idea.

“Uh, totally!  We, uh, we both saw this coming.  Yeah.” Pigsy would laugh at MK’s poor attempt at a lie if he wasn’t frozen in place, stuck between horror and something else he can’t acknowledge.

Some part of him wants to pretend this is real.  Some part of him, growing with every passing second, wants to play along until he forgets it’s a game.  Because he’s been fed emptiness and sadness and helplessness and, suddenly, there’s this hope—maybe false, maybe real, dangling in front of him.  

There’s something good, and something kind, and something Pigsy needs.  Something so cold it becomes warm and Pigsy would like to be warm.

“How’d it happen!  I want details!” Mei leans forward, face a few inches away from Tang’s, and Pigsy fights the urge to pull her away from him.  He doesn’t know if it’s because he wants to keep her safe or him.

Tang goes into a story, dipping into the tone he would with Monkey King tales, and Pigsy feels the edges of static crawling up his neck, a high pitched tone drowning out the noise of conversation as he tries to make sense of the situation he’s in.

How did he even get to this point?  He traces back memory after memory, but nothing makes sense.  The pieces don’t fall into place, even as he finds each and every one to try and put it all together.  It’s like someone has sanded the edges down, or covered them in ice, so they slip and scrape against each other.  Pigsy stands still, and slowly swivels his head to glance at his family, Mei and MK and Tang, all situated at his counter, like they’ve always belonged.

He keeps reminding himself that it isn’t Tang, not really.  But is it so terrible to pretend?  When he’s already worse than he’s ever been?

“It was really special.  Right, Pigsy?” Tang turns to him with an expectant grin, and Pigsy flushes again, a color Tang once told him was a dusty rose.  

He doesn’t snap.  He bends, because when you bend, the cracks are slow to break.  And Pigsy has always taken things slow, hasn’t he?

“Right.” He steps forward, his hand beneath Tang’s chin.  Tang has always been the most handsome person Pigsy has ever seen, and how could that change, even with blue rims?

Tang’s lips brush against the side of his face, for the effect of MK and Mei’s groans, and Pigsy smiles.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Tang trusts Pigsy with his life

That goes without saying.  As he forgets what it feels like to move his fingers, as he forgets what taste is, he knows above all else that he can trust Pigsy with his life.  

After all, Pigsy is why he’s alive at all.  Anyone else would have buckled under the pressure by now, being the slave of the Baigujing.  Anyone else would have made a mistake that would have left Tang a bleeding corpse on the ground.

Pigsy shoulders on, regardless of everything, because he values Tang’s life above all else.  Tang knows this.  That’s why he trusts Pigsy.

But things are changing, just a little.  Pigsy’s desperation for something real, for Tang as he’s meant to be, is dying.  Somehow, she’s bewitched the love of his life into something that is becoming unrecognizable.  And Tang, though he is losing the memory of touch, of taste, of movement, finds this somehow more terrifying, more horrifying.  

To see Pigsy vanish, just as Tang did, with no one making him disappear but himself.

Pigsy leans into her false touches.  He melts into the kisses she forces upon him.  His resistance falls slow and Tang can do nothing but watch and wonder quietly, as numbness threatens to swallow him whole.

He trusts Pigsy with his life.

But he doesn’t know which life Pigsy is trying to save.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It keeps happening.

At night, when he gets moments of clarity, when he remembers how awful everything is, Tang will be there with honeyed words and precious touches to sweep Pigsy off of his feet and forget.  Pigsy will be horrified by the sight of death in one moment and locked in an embrace in the next, kissed with a passion he can’t help but return.

“You’re so strong,” Tang will say, with reverence to his tone.  “It’s incredible.”

Not Tang.

Pigsy will fight against the pride that comes from the compliment, then fail every time to stifle it.  Because he is strong, incredibly so, and he is powerful, and he can swipe through any demon with ease.

Nevermind the brothers, crying out for each other when he’d separated them, the way one had gone pale and quiet when the other went still, because they were a pair made one.  You can’t kill a pair at the same time, unfortunately.

Pigsy knows he should feel guilty, should fight more.  Knows that this isn’t right, it isn’t real.  It’s so easy to forget, though, so easy to cling to something good when everything else hurts.

It’s so easy to set aside the memories of how wrong it all is.  So easy to hide it all away, focus on the elation, the kind smiles, the gentle touches.  Tang washes blood off of Pigsy’s hands when they get home—it’s their home, how could he forget—and curls up with Pigsy in the night, holding him close, and Pigsy clings, because he needs this.  Needs something that makes him feel like things are okay.

The thoughts reminding him that this isn’t Tang start to slip through Pigsy’s fingers.  He finds himself relaxing around the shop, smiling when he sees Tang at his seat, squeezing back when Tang interlocks their fingers.

Why fight it?  Sometimes it hurts, and god does it, but there’s something so lovely about it now, everything he ever wanted with a price he’s fine paying.

When you take a pig out of its domestic environment, it easily turns wild.  Hair, tusks, a penchant for violence.  And Pigsy hasn’t been out of his domestic environment in years, but he’s a pig, in the end, lost in the wilderness of an icy forest and blue eyes.

“Hey, Pigsy?” MK’s voice comes from behind him.

Pigsy turns from his work to see his boy at the counter, wiping it down as he waits for orders to come in.

“What?” He glances between the pot and MK, deciding the pot will be fine for a few seconds.

“Are you doing okay?  You, uh, you’ve been kind of quiet,” MK rubs the back of his neck, awkwardly.

Pigsy opens his mouth and closes it.  He glances to the empty seat.  Tang’s empty seat.

He doesn’t actually know where Tang has gone, but it’s so rare for it to happen.  Pigsy tries to remember the last time Tang wasn’t in his spot during the day, but tracing memories that far back is like poking at the wreckage of a shattered pot; you’re bound to draw blood.

The tiny vestiges of resistance crawl from ash and leave burning fingerprints on the forefront of his mind.

Tell him, he hears himself think.  Tell him!  This is your chance!

But the truth is so, so painful, and Pigsy doesn’t have it in himself to shatter this equilibrium.  Isn’t it so much kinder to let it settle beneath the surface, to hide the pain and make it so no one knows at all?  He doesn’t want MK to look at him with horror and disgust.  He doesn’t want to have to try to fix something that might be broken beyond repair.

This is nice.  This is okay.  He’s happy like this.  Why ruin it?

He reaches over and ruffles MK’s hair.  MK playfully smacks his hands away, and Pigsy chuckles.

“It’s my job to worry about you, kid,” he tells him.  “I’m fine.  Orders will be out in a minute.”

He waves MK off, and goes back to cooking.

Tang appears a minute later, in his seat.

“Hey,” Pigsy hears, and he turns, leaning on the little divider between the kitchen and the dining area.

“Hey, yourself,” he replies, and Tang smiles and kisses him soundly.  Pigsy’s brain short circuits.

“What was that for?” He asks, something like incredulous elation in his voice as he laughs.

Tang’s face screams victory.  Pigsy wonders what he’s won.

“Oh, I just felt like it.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He supposes he has his answer.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He’s finishing up another job at the end of the month when Tang claps his hands together.

“Well, I think that’s it,” he says and Pigsy freezes, realizing what may come.  “I don’t really have any other errands to run, and you’ve done your end of the bargain.  I’ll be out by morning.”

No, Tang can’t go, he can’t.  If Tang leaves, then what will Pigsy be?  He needs this.  Tang, Tang’s good for him.

He whirls around, and a hand reaches over to rest on Tang’s shoulder.  Tang.  Tang is good.

“I-wait-but,” Pigsy finds it so hard to articulate his thoughts nowadays.

He’s always been the muscle, Tang is the smart one.  Pigsy is good at doing, not talking.  He shouldn’t speak when everything comes out scrambled anyway.

“Use your words, now, dear,” Tang says, and Pigsy melts, like he always does.  How can he not, when Tang is looking at him like that?  Like Pigsy is his?

“I want to-you can stay-can you?  I need you to stay.  Please?”

Because Tang makes Pigsy feel whole, makes Pigsy feel loved.  He can do whatever Tang wants him to do, whatever Tang needs, Pigsy will make it happen.

Tang’s fingers trail down Pigsy’s face.  Pigsy leans into the touch, even though Tang’s fingers are cold.  Tang feels cold, but that’s okay.  Pigsy doesn’t mind.

“Oh, Pigsy,” and it’s Tang.  Pigsy searches for understanding, as a thumb brushes away his fears, soft.  Tang leans down until their eyes are level.  Pigsy finds familiarity in them, like he’s known them for an eternity.

His favorite color is the color of Tang’s eyes, blue with a hint of white, hard and cold.  

“All you had to do is ask,” Tang leans forward, and his lips brush against Pigsy’s, and Pigsy leans in.

It’s everything he’s ever wanted.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When ice touches the ocean, there is no crash.  The ocean fights back against the shift in form at first, but eventually is quieted by the power ice wields.  The ice smothers, the ice settles on top as a slate, and the sea goes still, everything hidden beneath, never to reach the surface.

Tang watches, from the prison in his mind, and the cuffs  on his wrists are so much tighter.  He can't feel where the cuffs end and his arms begin. He can’t feel his hands. He can’t feel anything.  All he has left is his vision, which is more a cruelty than a blessing.

When ice meets the earth it fills in the crevices left by time and expands, cracking stones apart and leaving it crumbling in its wake.

Tang curls in on himself as she shows him a kiss he never got to give, as Pigsy leans in with no hesitation, lost in something Tang can’t save him from.  He curls away from the sight and tries to pretend that things can get better, that they can be saved, but he doesn’t know.  Not when it hurts this much.  Not when he’s lost this much.

Something like betrayal rests bitterly in his stomach.  Pigsy left him.  For an imitation, Pigsy left him, and Tang knows there’s more there, knows there has to be, has seen it unravel, but it doesn’t change the fact.  

Pigsy made his choice, and Tang is the one suffering the consequences.

Tang crumbles quietly.  He doesn’t even know, here, if he has eyes to cry from.  It feels like he’s crying.

It feels like he’s screaming. No one hears. Even him.

If the water is still, it does not crash against the earth.  There is no tide, and the earth remains unchanging.  Except, even without the waves, time erodes it all.

Tang has nothing but himself and time.

[rrazor]

everyday is everyday | m. issei

tags: domestic fluff, alcohol, pda

“hey.”

you look at him, chin in your hand. your fingers cover half of your mouth.

“what?”

his curls fall over his right eye. it makes you smile: how soft they are, curly they are, the way they fall over his eye. you gently brush them away.

“i have a trade offer.” he scooches closer. you lean back, he leans closer. you’re leaning against the wall now, caged in by it, the desk, the booth wall and him. your hand stays stubbornly on your chin.

“what is it?”

he wants your hand off your chin so he takes it away. he’s taken aback when you push it against his chest.

“wait, my back hurts.”

“oh.” relief. he lets you sit up but stays close, in your personal space, popping your bubble.

“well? what’s the trade?”

he watches your hair spread out against the back of the seat as you lean against it. he mirrors you and laces your hands together.

“well,” he purses his lips. “i was thinking…”

you hum. out of the corner of your eye, you see tommy from calc one. in your eyes, there’s issei.

“—that if i receive a kiss, i’ll give you in return.”

you raise a brow. “really? that’s it?”

he pouts, dipping his head lower as a hand comes up to squish your cheeks. “hey.”

you’re in public—the economic department’s study space and—,

“didn’t say ‘no’,” you grin.

he grins too, cheeks pinking when you lean up to kiss him. he tastes like the vanilla flavoured lip balm you gave him last week. a squish to your cheeks has your lips puckering lingering than you’d like them to be as he plants a swift one before finally pulling away.

“well?”

“mm?” he rests his forehead on yours.

“where’s my kiss?”

he chuckles at the endearing frown on your pretty face, thumbing over your soft cheek. “right here.”

.

a yawn and there’s tears forming in your corner of your eyes. through the kitchen window, you watch as the street lights flicker on, muddled orange yellow spots giving light to the streets.

“where did you get them?”

a look to your right, past issei’s shoulders and you see a girl with balayage highlights in her dark hair. she’s pretty, real pretty. a little blurry but you can still tell her eyes are gorgeous. you don’t know if she’s paying attention to you right behind him, sitting on the kitchen island. she asks another question, “which one’s your favourite?” you know, that which, out of the eight piercings he had, was his favourite but you’re not about to tell her. resting your head on his shoulder, you look down, accustomed to the way people tried to hit him up.

he tells her his favourite as his fingers grace along the inside of your calf. his thumb and fingers dance along the skin of your ankle, drawing images you try to visualize in your head as you close your eyes.

“right, babe?”

you glance up at him.

“sorry?”

he puts his drink down and turns around, facing you entirely. you half wish he wasn’t so broad and tall so you’d be able to see who else was around you.

“tired?” he mumbles, kissing your forehead.

“a little.” you sit up straighter, stretching a little. the girl with the nice golden hair is half a ways away, walking back to her group of friend who start to comfort her. “what were you talking about earlier?”

“the time hiro almost broke the chair at the shop with how hard his leg had kicked when he got his.”

you hum, admiring how good he looks in the starchy yellow light. “did it hurt?” you rub a finger over his bushy brow, lighting passing over the studs in his skin.

“my piercings? or his?” he has a hand on your knee now, other one over yours on the counter. he watches as you giggle, tipping away a little more than you would if it wasn’t for the red solo cup in your left hand.

“no,” you lilt. he laughs along with you, kissing you through your cute fit of laughter.

“meant when you fell from heaven,” you slur, breaking away into another melody of giggles.

he chuckles, putting your arms around his neck as he carries you, keeping you tucked tight against his chest. “do i look like i came from heaven, babe?”

you nod, lying your head on his shoulder as he takes you to the car, to home, to heaven.

.

he feels you before he sees you, arms around his waist, head between his shoulders.

“you’re back.” he automatically puts his hands over yours and also over the large mango in your hand.

“‘m back.”

“why’re you holding a mango?”

“it’s huge,” sugawara snorts. “the heck you get that from?”

you release your arms to stand next to them, holding the precious fruit in the palm of your hands. “from the grocery store.”

“why a mango?” sugawara takes a sip of his caramel macchiato.

you shrug, rubbing the smooth skin.

“y’gonna eat it like an apple?” he continues.

you shrug again. “maybe.”

sugawara looks at issei, who shrugs at well, before announcing his leave for his chemistry class.

issei looks down at you and offers his coffee which you shake your head at. “why’d you get a mango?”

“it was all i could afford,” you say. “wanna share?”

he chuckles, “sure. you hungry though?”

you grin, tucking the mango into your armpit and putting your palms together. “snacks?”

he puts his hand into yours, placing a kiss on your forehead. “got mints, but i’ll treat you to something at the new korean restaurant.” he leads you along to the school’s food court, buying you a plate of black bean noodles and pork dumplings on the side to share. you share your large mango, bought for $1.29 plus tax. you cut it into three and he gets the juice all over his hands when he takes the middle part with the refuse. the fruit is tender and he laughs when it slips out of your hand a tad only for you to use your chin to stop it from falling. it’s sweet, sticky and you have to hold onto his phone while he washes his hands in the washroom.

“hand cream?”

he pockets his phone and nods, holding his hand out for you. “is it mango-scented?”

“nope” you squeeze out a generous amount out for him. “pomegranate. this is mango-scented though.” you pull out a tube of lip balm and he stills his head, letting you put it on for him. the scent is soft, but strong and he finds himself nodding at how nice it is.

“it’s nice, isn’t it?”

he hums his agreement, helping you zip up your backpack and taking your hand to walk you to your next class. he kisses you good luck and is there to pick you up at 5:30pm on the dot, surprising you with a bag of mangoes.

.

“look!”

he looks, watching as you unpack something that’s a pretty mint green and white. “a wireless keyboard?” he reads.

you grin happily, delicately setting everything down on the table and pressing at the keys, satisfied with the sound and feel them. “wanna try?” you pass it on to him as you glimpse over the instruction manual. he taps at the keys and grabs onto the small mouse that came with it.

“this is so small,” he mutters.

“hm?” you look over to see the entirety of his palm already cover the top of the mouse. “oh.” you take it from him and while it is noticeably smaller than a regular mouse, it works just fine. “it’s fine,” you say, testing the scrolling bit.

he helps you set it up, tiny mouse and everything. sitting next to you, he watches as you open up your notes app and type gibberish onto the page, a look of sheer joy on your face. he smiles along, slotting himself behind you while you type away like a little secretary.

“think you’re gonna be more productive?”

“nope!” you laugh. “but at least it’s cute; it’s for the aesthetic, ‘sei.”

he snickers, placing his much larger hands over yours as he too, types away on your new keyboard, mashing keys and filing the screen.

“stooop.” you move to swat his hands. “i can’t move my hands!”

he laughs, enveloping them entirely despite your protests but eventually does let you go after a couple of thrashes and elbows to his stomach.

“it’s a nice keyboard though,” he adds, kissing your forehead.

you huff, returning a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “‘course. i have good taste, y’know.”

“mhm,” he chuckles, hand coming up to hold your jaw gently as he plants a full one on your lips. “i know.”

[gallickingun]

aw i love your katsu!! can i get some blurb focused on the fact that bakugou only calls reader/you by a sweet nickname whereas he has mean nicknames for everyone else?? lol thank you!!

“Anyone hear Bakugou call her angel the other day?” Kirishima mutters behind the wall of his palm, looking at the others with wide eyes. 

You and Katsuki are currently at the noodle counter, standing close as he pays for the two of you to grab some lunch while you’re out with your friends. It’s winter break, college courses pausing just long enough for you to catch your breath.

“I heard him say babe for the first time, I swear.” Denki chuckles, kicking his feet up into Kirishima’s lap. “He’s head over heels, that Bakugou.”

Kirishima scoffs, “At least she doesn’t have a crude nickname like Shitty Hair.”

“Aw,” Jirou leans across to pinch his cheek, “he loves you, it’s just a term of endearment.”

The redhead whines, leaning his head back, “I want him to call me angel or babe or something just once!”

“What are you whining about, Shitty Hair?” Bakugou kicks the back of Kirishima’s chair. He’s carrying both of your trays, and if Kirishima really wanted to piss him off, he’d trip him up and make him lose the plates to the floor. However, he knows much better than to test Bakugou’s wrath.

You’re twirling noodles around on your fork when everyone notices the trajectory of Bakugou’s hand - it’s dangerously close to your thigh. And, if anyone were to look under the table, they’d also see his ankle looped around yours. 

If anybody asks, Bakugou is not head over heals for you. Not at all.

-

“Hey, honey?!”

“Yes?” 

“Not you, Kiri!” Bakugou growls.

He whips around, palms crackling as he debates whether or not the apartment walls can take another brawl between the two heroes. He growls, stepping towards Kirishima, but the gentle feel of a palm covering his left pectoral softens his features.

“Dinner?” you ask expectantly, tilting your head in such a way that makes his chest constrict. He nods, the orange light flickering in his hands fading, the only evidence of his outburst is the lingering scent of ashen sweetness.

Katsuki is chopping vegetables for the fried rice, the two of you deep in conversation as Kirishima sits at the bar, legs swinging from the tall chair. He sighs, hand cupping his chin as he watches the two of you. You take a glance towards him, a grin on your lips, “Kiri?”

“Hmm?”

You chuckle, “I’ll call you babe if it’ll get you over this little pouting th-”

“You’ll do what?!” Bakugou tilts the knife in your direction, far enough away for it not to be a real threat, “You call him that and I’ll kick your ass!”

Rolling your eyes, you nudge him with your toe against his calf, “Maybe you should start being nicer to your friends, Kacchan. Then I won’t have to pick up your slack.”

“Tch,” Bakugou scoffs, knocking his head back as he glances over to Kirishima. “Whatever. C’mere, Kirishima, help me with this.”

The little squeal of happiness that escapes the redhead’s lips is enough to get you off of Bakugou’s back, and he convinces himself that that is the only reason he listened.

-

You’re warm, now, impossibly warm. His arms are around you, nose nuzzling your neck as some mundane television show plays in the background. You run your fingers up and down his back, fingertips dipping into the planes of muscle forming his shoulders and torso. 

“This show is dumb,” Bakugou grumbles, his palm drifting under your shirt, tickling your ribs. “Babe, you suck at picking.”

“I’m the only one able to make a decision around here!” you snap playfully, tapping the pad of your index fingertip to the curve of his nose. “If you refuse to pick, you don’t get to complain.”

“I’ll do whatever the hell I wanna do,” he mutters. He slips his knee between your thighs and it’s as if he’s pressing himself even closer to you, suffocating your space in the best way.

You’re about to retort something, but you’re interrupted by the sound of the door swinging open, revealing Mineta walking into the common area. Bakugou barely lifts his head in acknowledgment, too busy muttering things over your jugular and up into your ear.

“Bakugou, if you’re gonna put all that on display, you better shar-Ah!”

“Fucking perv,” Bakugou growls, bringing his palm back down from where he blasted Mineta across the room. 

“C’mon, baby, let’s go.”

send me a little prompt for a short fic!

tagging: @simplybakugou @kamehamethot @lady-bakuhoe @todorki-shoto @redhawtriot @burnedbyshoto @cookies-n-chaos @katsukisprincess @rat-suki @cutesuki--bakugou @k-atsukidayo @bnhatrashh @succulent-momma @voiceofreader @multifandom-fanfic @that-one-enthusiast @bitchtrynafck @cutest-celestial-princess @blue-peach14 @pastel-prynce @bokunokangae @shoutodoki @bakuoushoe @tenyaingenium @hoe-biscus @kingtamakimurder @myherofuckademia @myherowritings @lxvely-mha @myherorambles @birds-have-teeth @bratwritings

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 18 - Holy Ghost

Masterlist; Chapter 17

Summary: First few days in Tallinn are like a calm before the storm, while you and Neil are getting used your new dynamic. It proves to be rather surprising...

Warnings: 18+ (yep, she did it again because these two wanted to); swearing.

Author’s Notes: So ummm... I’m not sure what happened here and you’ll be the judges of that. All I can say is that I’ve been inspired by the skewed tie and that Tallinn will take at least two more chapters because they keep getting distracted. Hope you’ll enjoy! Feedback is always welcome as I’m not sure what I’m doing...🙈

The lovely edit has been provided by my amazing and talented friend @sh3tani​ (thanks for putting up with my bs 💕)

Despite technically being a Tenet agent for a while, the dramatic changes of pace in your life never failed to amaze you. After that careless morning in London, mere hours later you got the text from TP, sending you and the Cavalry to Tallinn. Minutes afterwards, Neil burst into your room saying that the younger TP called, giving him directions to run a few lab tests and then to meet him in the capital of Estonia, as well. Neither of you had any clues as to why but then that was rather expected. 

That is how you found yourself in a safe house in the suburbs of Tallinn. For security and convenience, you have joined Ives’s squad there while Neil booked a hotel room nearby to keep up the appearances before TP. For the first few days, the boss has not yet arrived in the city, and therefore, as Neil put it, there was much more room to maneuver. Whatever that meant.

Estonian safe house was a relatively vast apartment on the ground floor of an old brick house. It had six bedrooms furnished with simple Ikea beds, bedside tables, and a small wardrobe. There was also one bathroom (hell of an inconvenience for nine people occupying the place) and a kitchen opening into a living room with sofas and tv. The space was nearly barren save for the objects needed to survive for however long you were bound to stay there. On the day of your arrival, Ives sent you and Wheeler to the shop for the supplies, reasoning being that apparently you two had most brain cells in the whole team. You enjoyed the possibility to charge your introvert batteries before days spent with eight people, of which only two you actually knew. With close to no information concerning the point of the mission, the days have been spent idly chatting, playing games, and watching television. In Estonian, naturally. For you, a crucial part of the survival became continuous reception and the ability to reach out to Neil when needed. Which was often and soon became a passing joke among the rest of the company. Once Henrik tried to steal your phone and ended up with a bread knife pressed against his neck, the innocent fun ended. That was on day two.

Luckily you got your own room, while the others were forced to share. This you owed to the fact that you were not part of the squad and hence had the right to privacy. It proved rather useful the day when unexpected company came. You were busy trying not to burn the scrambled eggs on a scratched-up pan, half humming a song you heard on the radio. Despite the early hour, everyone was up and either moving about or outside on a run. If there was anything you have learned from the experience so far, it was that Tenet soldiers started the day early and were shit at cooking. Eggs, instant noodles, and oven pizzas were the menu staples. Sighing, you picked up the only clean plate left when you heard a commotion in the hallway. Not long after, a voice called out:

“Y/N? You’ve got a visitor” you did not like the amused undertone in that information.

“Yeah…?” hesitantly, you stepped into the hallway.

The cheeky grin was quite the sight at 9 am.

“Good morning, sunshine” you resisted the urge to break the plate on Neil’s head.

At least he brought coffee.

“Hey,” warily you looked at Michael, who was loitering next to you, interested in the situation “Should we…?” looking at the door to your room, you met Neil’s gaze.

“Naturally” he smiled and followed you in.

Only once you closed the door behind you both, blocking out the curious stares, you breathed out the air you did not know you were holding. You set the plate on the bedside table and grinned as Neil carelessly threw himself onto your bed.

“Thought I’ll get a kiss or something for all that awkwardness out there” you commented, eyeing the man sprawled on your mattress.

Briefly, you marvelled at how you have managed to become this comfortable with each other. But then almost having sex was bound to count for something. Supposedly.

“You will if you come here” Neil raised his head and extended a hand in an invitation.

Mournfully you glanced at your abandoned breakfast and crossed the space, intertwining your fingers with his. You were not surprised when Neil pulled you down onto the bed, only just managing not to lie on him. Feigning disappointment, he huffed and leaned in, kissing you slowly. Deepening the kiss, you tangled your fingers in his hair, bringing him closer. With legs interlocked, half-lying on the narrow bed, it was all too real. In moments like this, it was easy to believe that maybe it was meant to be. Breaking up the kiss, you opened your eyes to stare at Neil. In the soft light coming through the opened shutters, you could clearly see the darker rims around his blue irises. In the morning, his eyes resembled the colour of an ocean. The long eyelashes framing the eyes and the eyebrows, furrowed in concentration, gazing back at you. Your eyes then landed on his parted mouth, the corners turned down slightly, and the shape of his lips. You wondered how someone this beautiful could choose you among all the people in the universe.

“Your breakfast and the coffee are getting cold” he murmured, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Do you want me to get up?” running your fingertips over his temple, you reveled in the intimacy of the moment.

Neil smiled and raised your joined hands to kiss your knuckles.

“Not really. I like having you this close so I can stare” he admitted with a sheepish grin.

“Same, actually,” you mirrored his expression, dragging fingers through the golden hair.

It seemed like your London evening full of important conversations gave you more confidence. Suddenly it was not that scary to share your thoughts and feelings with him because there was a chance he will understand. Or at least not ridicule you. As though Neil was reading your mind, he asked:

“What are you thinking about?” you could tell he was genuinely interested.

That was enough to make you feel a surge of feelings towards him. Maybe it won’t hurt to say something… Taking a deep breath, you warned:

“Just don’t laugh,”

“I’ll do my best” Neil bopped your nose quickly, making your brain short-circuit for a second.

What even. Focusing all your attention on him, your eyes wandered over his face. Resting on all the features that made him the man you loved.

“Sometimes I just can’t get over how beautiful you are… like a bloody masterpiece” you cupped his cheek “And I’ve no clue why you’re so fixed on me” sighing dejectedly, you awaited a response.

If the slightly widened eyes were any clue, he was surprised by your admission.

“That was probably the best compliment I’ve ever gotten” Neil stumbled over the sentence.

So, it was worth saying. For another time, you left the discussion on how that could even be true.

“Have you seen yourself though? How could I not be fixed on you?” it was Neil’s turn to cup your cheek, making you blush.

The pure confidence in his eyes was too much to bear at the moment. Sitting up, you kicked him lightly, enjoying the affronted look.

“Now you’re being ridiculous” you moved to stand up, but Neil took hold of your waist, sitting up as well.

You were too close again, noses brushing. It was easy to lean in and kiss him. Only when you did, a knock resounded in the room. Fucking hell.

“Can I come in?” the cockney accent was a giveaway “I bloody hope you two aren’t getting up to stuff”

Despite yourself, you giggled with your lips still brushing over Neil’s, making him sigh. For a millisecond, he tightened his grip over your waist and then let go and moved an inch away. You looked at him for permission before calling out:

“Be our guest”

In an attempt to look as casual as it was possible, you grabbed the plate with your cold eggs and passed Neil his coffee. Sitting back down on the bed, you pasted a neutral smile onto your face. As if that would divert anyone’s attention from your tangled hair and Neil’s flushed cheeks. Ives opened the door and scrutinized you both quickly, not missing how you frowned upon the first bite of your breakfast. Then he gave Neil a quick pat on the back:

“Good to see you, mate” he perched on the windowsill for the lack of any other furniture “I was hoping you’d at least come to say hi” he gave you both a knowing glance.

Cursing your own inability to say no to Neil, you grudgingly finished the eggs and took another sip of the lukewarm coffee. Next time, food first, then kissing. No matter how irresistible the bastard might be.

“I was planning to, only…” the bastard in question shrugged before glancing at you shortly.

“Oh, I know. Priorities and all that” Ives smirked upon your deepening blush “I get it, believe me. Plus, seeing how often Y/N is glued to her phone, I reckon you two are doing good” he winked.

Sensing Neil’s growing discomfort, you shot back:

“Don’t talk about me as though I wasn’t here” it was hard to look threatening when staring at someone like Ives, but you did your best.

“Or?” he arched his eyebrow amusedly.

“I’ll shoot you”

The sudden tense silence got interrupted by Neil breaking into a laugh, collapsing against you. So much for pretending you could keep away from each other. Once he calmed down, he rested his head on your shoulder and said:

“And that’s why I like you”

You did not know it was possible to blush even more. And yet. Even though what he said was hardly a surprise, he never mentioned anything like that with others present. Before you could come up with any response, Ives commented:

“Aren’t you two cute, eh?”

Lord give me strength…  

“Ives” you warned, reaching for the gun you always kept in the drawer by the bed.

He laughed and raised his hands in defence.

“Okay, I’ll stop now” he glanced at Neil, who was comfortable enough, still leaning on you “Has he given you any more clues?”

You relaxed once the conversation steered onto more professional tracks.

“Not really. I ran the analysis on the gold bar he sent, and well, there’s literally nothing concrete there” Neil shrugged, “But I think it has something to do with the plutonium piece that went missing back in Kiev” he added.

“Is that part of the Algorithm?” you asked.

The topic has not really come up since your first conversation with TP in Boston, but from the information you got from Neil and others in the organisation, it seemed like the pieces were set in motion. In the Kiev Opera, another part of the compound has been lost. Maybe its purpose was to resurface in Tallinn so that you could take over.

“Yeah” Neil confirmed your suspicions with a curt nod.

“How… how do you know about this?” it was Ives’ turn to be confused, looking at you with palpable shock in his eyes.

Right… Sometimes it was hard to keep track of who knew what and why. And that was one of such moments. Straightening your back, you explained:

“TP told me. Apparently, I’ll have a role to play hence why I’m being dragged into this” glancing at Neil, who all of sudden looked rather sombre, you added, “Not only because of this idiot” giving in to the temptation, you ruffled his hair.

“…thanks” pouting, Neil moved away.

“Welcome” 

*** You have left the apartment and quickly checked the maps again. Neil set your meeting for a rather obscure park square in the downtown area of the city since that was where he was supposed to meet TP later. At first, you wanted to refuse, to tell him that it was risky to go for a walk with the boss nearby. But then, you knew there was not much point in saying no to something that tempting. It was enough that you might not be able to spend time together at all the next few days.

Just when you were sure you have gotten lost in the greyness of the apartment blocks and identical streets, you spotted him waiting on the bench. The icy wind was ruffling his hair as Neil stared at the pavement, unaware of your attention. You smiled at the sight of his brown and green outfit and those strange shoes; you have seen the brogues before in Oslo. Now that was something worth a call out later. Ending the scrutiny, you approached him and, as a means of greeting, brushed the hair away from his forehead. That worked, as it always did. The blue eyes snapped up to meet yours:

“Hello” you offered him a small smile.

“Tere, kallis” the grin combined with the strange words he uttered made you frown.

“I hope that was something appropriate”

He took your hand in his and pulled you down onto his lap. The happy sparks in his eyes were almost enough to make you ignore the cold and the embarrassment of the situation.

“I thought you said we’re going for a walk” forcing a stern tone was difficult with how Neil gently cupped your flushed cheek.

“That we are. But first, I wanted to get you up close and personal” he brushed his nose against yours tenderly.

“I see…” with the corner of your eye you could see an older woman observing you from the nearby bench.

With a start, you realised how very much alike a couple you must look to any passerby. Sitting on Neil’s lap, with his arm securing you around the waist and your faces inches away, there were no questions about the nature of your relationship. But, somehow, that was okay. A stronger gust of wind made you shiver, which he noticed straight away and pulled you even closer, your lips nearly touching. The blue of his irises and the depth of focus in them made you gasp. It was always like this with him, as though you were the only person in the universe that mattered.

“We’ll get going now, only…” Neil met your gaze with a silent question.

You nodded. He could do anything he wanted anyway. He met your lips in a slow kiss, relishing in the feeling for at least half a minute. You placed your hand on the back of his neck to bring him a little closer, suddenly grateful for the position he put you in. Then, just as the kiss threatened to get more heated, Neil broke the contact and leaned back, taking in your dazed expression. He always knew how to get to you.

“Now we can go” he smirked, and you had no choice but to slide off his lap.

As soon as you were both standing, Neil grabbed your hand again and intertwined your fingers. As usual. It did seem like neither of you wanted to pretend today, and instead letting yourselves explore the ‘not-quite relationship’ you got into. For once, the voices in your head were silent, seemingly agreeing to the new developments. You did wonder how long that was bound to last.

“Ives says hi, by the way,” you broke the silence, looking around the cityscape.

This part of Tallinn certainly was not as picturesque as the city centre, but it had to do. After all, your sole focus was Neil. Not much else mattered when you were together. If that did not confirm your feelings, then god knows what did. Sighing, you turned to look at the man in question.

“You told him we’re meeting up?” he asked with a slight crease between his eyebrows.

Confusion, then.

“No. I just said that I’m going out for a walk, and he told me to say hi to you” laughing at the idiocy of the moment you brushed your thumb over his knuckles.

In response, you got the signature Neil grin that was the beginning of your downfall all those months previously. Despite the absolute horror you felt during the initial conversation with Ives, now it was somehow less terrifying.

“Ah, I see” his tongue clicked thoughtfully, only making you laugh harder.

It was difficult to get the next sentence out.

“He also added that he’s surprised he’s not yet caught you sneaking out of my room at night”

The small snorting sound Neil let out made you want to kiss him right there, in the middle of the busy street.

“Why do I feel like he wants it to happen” he glanced at you quickly with an amused expression.

“Maybe it’s his thing” you retorted, savoring the laugh it prompted from your companion.

After that first morning in the safehouse, you have both decided to try and keep away from any rash actions or decisions while in Estonia. You certainly had enough of interruptions, and with the team sharing the space, it was all too precarious. Hence you have been meeting up outside, for strolls or lunch, talking about everything and nothing. Only now, that TP was around, it was bound to change, and you expected that this might be the last of those stolen moments.

“I’m sorry that we had to meet around here today” Neil interrupted your slightly melancholic thoughts “I wanted to take you out somewhere again, but he called, and I think it will be on soon” he lowered his voice to a slightly conspicuous tone, making you smile.

“It’s okay, at least that means I’ll know why the fuck am I even here” shrugging, you looked around at the shops you have passed by.

“For me?” Neil batted his eyelashes innocently while tightening his hold over your hand.

“Apart from that” this time you allowed him honesty “Don’t you ever get tired though? Of me?” the self-sabotaging voice contributed a question.

It was too late to take it back. But the way Neil looked at you then, with disbelief and fondness, was enough to excuse the moment on insecurity.

He stopped walking, making you freeze despite the streams of people going in both directions. You were like an island amidst a fast-flowing river. Neil forced you to meet his gaze by tilting your chin upwards. There was nothing playful in his eyes, just sincerity and love. And determination.

“Do you need me to remind you why that’s impossible?” you did not know when did his voice become so husky.

“Maybe” biting your lip, you searched his face, fascinated and curious.

Neil glanced at the teeth nibbling on your lower lip, and his tongue darted out, seemingly on reflex. Oh. When his eyes met yours again, you could see a hint of a new emotion there. He was hesitating for approximately 10 seconds before he started leading you again with purpose. Before you could ask a single question, he turned sharply into a non-descript alley between two crumbling buildings. It was empty save for a few pieces of trash lying around and a rusted door at the other end, with a metal padlock and a heavy chain. But your quick scan of the environment got interrupted by Neil wrapping his arm around your waist and pushing you at one of the walls. Just before your head could hit the bricks, he cradled the back of it, providing a safeguard. Ever so thoughtful. Wide-eyed, you glanced up at him to gauge the intention. The darkness and resolve you found were enough of an indicator.

“The walk will have to wait” he spoke before crashing his lips against yours.

The instinct kicked in instantaneously, making you respond by bringing him closer with your hand taking hold of his tie. Kissing Neil was like a fix for an addiction you did not want to fight against. No matter how urgent it was, you could always find a tempo that suited you both, neither fighting for dominance. It was like a dance where both were willing to lead and follow. Neil bit into your lower lip, drawing blood, tinting the kiss with that coppery taste. Fuck. You gasped into his mouth, shivering when his tongue ran along the split, licking off the droplets. It was enough to make you want more. As a payback, you caught his upper lip with your teeth, tugging at it lightly to remind him of the potential. But only when you pulled on his tie sharply, making Neil almost collapse against you, he broke the kiss with a groan. His eyes were hazed with lust, making you lightheaded the more you kept on gazing. The bloody shade of red on his lips made your pulse quicken. You still kept the hold on his patterned tie, making sure he was within your reach. His tongue darted out and licked off the remains of blood. That was a good cue to sober up. You released his tie and placed your hand over his heart, relishing in the way he was looking at you, as though you were a sight he could never have enough of.

“Huh…” you broke the silence and glanced at the entryway to the alley.

Thankfully no spectators.

“Is this all you’re going to say?” Neil’s perplexed facial expression made you laugh.

Sometimes it was fascinating to see him that disoriented after a kiss. Because it was a clear sign that not only you were affected by everything that transpired. Another reason to believe that maybe the feeling was mutual. Calming down, you started toying with his shirt collar. Even though heated kisses in dirty alleys were never your kind of thing, with Neil that too was exciting. And something you wanted to repeat.

“I mean… this is rather nice” you met his confused gaze and added, “Being with you like this”

Coherence for more complex sentences was nowhere to be found.

“I’m glad because I wanted that last hour of normalcy before we go back to the usual” Neil staggered over the sentence as well, making your heart stumble with fondness.

Pouring the feeling into your gaze, you grinned at him, running your hands over his shirt and lapels. You knew exactly what he meant. But still, with tongue poking out, you noticed:

“That sentence didn’t make sense, and yet I agree” the way his eyes darted onto your lips was enough to cause a resurgence amidst the butterflies.

Neil leaned in again, eager for another kiss. But you had other ideas, struck with the courage to tease him a little. You dropped your head and kicked him in the foot lightly. Just enough to bring his attention onto the subject of your scrutiny.

“The hell are those shoes though” you smirked upon his utterly lost gaze.

“What? You don’t like them?” the slight pout only made your grin wider.

With the hair in disarray, reddened cheeks, and pink lips, he was more than a sight to behold. And all that because of you. Wow.

“They look a little like you wanted to channel Pennywise or something” you laughed at his blank stare “Remind me to go through your wardrobe one day because you’re selling yourself short with those fashion choices” to emphasize the point you tugged on his tie again and frowned.

But it seemed like Neil managed to recover enough. He placed both of his hands on the wall, blocking your way out. The well-known smirk came back too. You had a feeling that you were about to lose this one battle.

“And yet here you are” he practically purred with a hungry look in his eyes.

You swallowed. Whenever he got like this, showing how much he wanted you, it was hard to think. Raking your head for a response, you settled on honesty again.

“That’s because I admire your soul” eyeing him intently, you added “And hair”

You tugged on the golden strands, making him whine in frustration. Good.

“And eyes” he met your gaze purposefully, a hint of a knowing smile on his face.

Of course, he’d know.

“Yeah” you raised your head.

A challenge he took without hesitation. Neil reached for the scarf wrapped around your neck and loosened it just enough to have access. Before you could do as much as exhale, his lips were on your neck and throat, attacking all the spots that were bound to make you gasp and search for something to hold on to. Cursing, you closed your eyes, letting yourself block everything that was not Neil and his touch. Soon his hands joined in with the exploration, brushing over your body, slipping inside the opened coat and underneath your blouse. Any resistance you might have had was slowly breaking. Blindly, you found his tie again and started to work on undoing the knot with shaking hands. Once you loosened it and undid the first three buttons, you slipped your hand underneath his shirt. You did not even know what you wanted to do. He was there, yours and in reach. That was enough to cause urgency. But any intent you might have had disappeared when Neil finished his study with a harsh bite over your collarbone.

“Jesus Christ…” you huffed and pulled him closer with a finger around his belt loop.

As his hips met yours, he raised his head and met your gaze shamelessly. Nothing but want and adoration. A sudden commotion on the street helped you remember the surroundings. Sighing, you pieced together a sentence:

“This is rather risky, don’t you think?” if anything, the unconscious way in which you bumped your hips against his again was a contradiction to the statement.

Your head was a mess. On one hand, wanting nothing but Neil, right here and now. On the other, doing anything like this in an alley spoke against the last bits of the reason you tried to preserve.

“Yes, but I quite enjoy the thrill” Neil brushed his hand over your stomach and smiled devilishly.

If your experience was anything to go by, and the way it felt when his crotch brushed over your hip, he too was rather invested. That thought gave you some needed courage to respond.

“You like being caught? Then I’m surprised you were so unsatisfied in Oslo” the cheeky smile and a quick touch of your hand over the front of his pants did it.

Neil swallowed hard and took additional few seconds to find words.

“More than being caught I like you. And everything we do... or could do” experimentally, he traced his finger along the line of your belt.

The goosebumps and rising tension within your core were good enough clues towards your feelings on the matter.

“Like what?” the breathlessness of your voice made you frown.

“Like this” in one swift motion, Neil undid the buckle.

Shit. That was enough to raise concern. You wanted him, urgently, but…

“Neil... do you seriously think fucking in an alley is a good idea?” you did know where that word came from, but it was pretty spot on.

“First of all, we’re not fucking. This isn’t that primal” for some reason the way he pronounced it only made matters worse, as did that smirk “Unless one day you feel like it and-” oh hell.

You placed one hand over his mouth, shutting him up, the other ventured into the pocket of your coat, where you always had the small hunting knife hidden.

“I’m going to stab you. Here they won’t find you for days” aiming for a threatening tone, you raised the hand from his mouth.

But not before he somehow managed to kiss your fingers. His eyes were dark, determined to make you break any internal rules you could have.

“Wow, you really have it bad for me” Neil whispered, getting ever closer, ignoring your threats.

Too lost in the strange conversation you have not even realised when he managed to unzip your jeans. Only once you felt his hand slipping between your thighs, you huffed with frustration. Thinking on reasons against letting him do it was getting increasingly harder.

“Neil” was the only warning you could manage.

All thoughts disappeared when he palmed you through the underwear. Searching for support, you put your hands on his shoulders.

“I just want to check if you’re still interested... still so eager,” the satisfied grin told you that it felt just as bad as you expected.

Like this, with him having direct access to check what was working for you, there was nowhere to hide. Once again, he managed to bring you to such a state with worrying ease. His whole body was pressing against yours, with one hand teasing you through the thin layer of clothing. The other has somehow managed to wrap around your throat. Not strong enough to apply pressure, but at the same time making you face him. And increasing the need you felt.

“You’re a bastard” the insult got muddled by the longing you could not hide from your gaze.

Neil caught it, grinning mischievously. The game was on.

“Well... it takes two and all that” he feigned nonchalance, arching an eyebrow.

You knew full well what he was implying. You could practically feel how drenched with arousal you were. Your underwear was wet to touch, thighs clenching around Neil’s hand. That was his cue to keep your legs parted by inserting his knee between them. Here we go again. You wanted him to do something. Anything. But he was resolved to keep you waiting, thinking about all the different ways to make the situation even more unbearable for you. To make you beg for whatever he was willing to give. Your futile attempt to grind on his thigh got stopped with a stronger grip around your throat and a glimpse of something darker in his eyes. You had enough.

“Why are you doing this?” the hoarse tone of your voice was rather shameful.

“Because I know that you actually enjoy it” Neil shrugged and met your gaze with playful sparks in the blue eyes.

You did not want to know how obvious it must have been for him. Then, he slowly stroked you there, earning a muffled curse.

“I would if you finished it for once” you breathed, letting the frustration take over.

The ache between your legs was nearly driving you over the edge now. It was too much. Neil was too close, and yet not close enough.

“I’m giving you food for thought, so to speak” he murmured.

His hand moved; thumb tentatively hooked around the hem of your panties. An offer to take it a step further any second now.

“That you are” you met his gaze defiantly.

If he was so determined to make you suffer, you might as well give him what he wanted.

“Have you been... dreaming about this?” Neil glanced down at where his fingers were getting closer to where you needed him most.

As though he needed to ask. Of course, you have thought about this scenario before. And many others too. After all, you had to somehow deal with those countless times when his pure existence frustrated you in every meaning of the word.

“Mhmm” you hummed, hoping that will be enough of a response.

The smirk was a reward.

“Good”

Unable to withstand the tension any longer, you kissed him hungrily, taking everything you could have. Soon enough, you were both gasping for breath, yet you did not want to let go. Biting, sucking, and nibbling on every part of his mouth available, he was your drug. With his hand still in a loose chokehold and the other so close to your pulsating core, Neil became the sole reason for your existence. Your knees buckled when he sharply tugged at your panties and touched you without the barrier of the undergarment. You broke the kiss and met his wild gaze, both shocked by the sheer pull between you. Only once he drew a finger between your folds, collecting some of the wetness, the moment got interrupted by Neil’s raspy chuckle.

“It’s quite flattering to see you like this and all because of me” you were not sure if you wanted to slap him or kiss him.

But then that was a usual thing with Neil.

“Just don’t get cocky…” it was hard to put together a string of words.

“Or?” his thumb touched your clit, and you hissed sharply “I already know how I’m making you feel”

To prove a point, he drew another gasp from you by starting a circular stimulation of the sensitive nub. You whimpered, suddenly aware of what a sight you must be for him. Utterly ruined because of kisses, touches, and words. You hated being at anyone’s mercy like this.

“Neil…” a weak plea made him meet your gaze “Please just…” helplessly, you tried to convey everything through the expression in your eyes.

He searched your face before letting go of your throat and instead cupping your cheek tenderly. The juxtaposition was enough to make your head spin.

“What do you want?” it was that question again.

Simple and yet not at all. Awaiting the response, Neil stopped all the movement, increasing your frustration and need. You knew that there was no way you could ever walk away from this as though nothing happened. You might as well have some relief.

“Help me before I lose my fucking mind” you breathed out, expecting the smug smile.

Instead, you got the most sickening grin you have ever seen on his face. But combined with the adoration in his eyes, you knew it was exactly what he wanted to hear from you.

“With pleasure” the words rolled off his tongue, and before you could prepare, he went back to stimulating your clit.

Your head almost slammed onto the wall behind when he picked up the pace. Even though you both knew that you hardly needed any additional preparation, Neil took his time, never taking his gaze off you. At the edges of your consciousness, you could feel the rising shame that was bound to consume you later. After all, this was the second time that you have asked him to help you like this. Surely, he would soon get tired of having to deal with your issues and never getting anything in return. But before you could follow that train of thought, Neil inserted a finger, and an unwanted cry rose in your throat.

“Jesus…” to stop yourself from being too vocal, you bit down harshly on your lip, bursting the barely sealed cut.

But Neil tilted your chin, meeting your gaze again.

“No need for that” he caught your lips in a short kiss “Don’t hold back”

Readjusting your hold on one of his shoulders, with the other hand you tugged on the tie you have messed up earlier. He took that as a cue to insert another digit. Too much.

“Christ, Neil” the breathless tone was a revelation even to you “You’re…” unable to finish the sentence, you moaned quietly.

Neil had no issues finding the perfect spot again, making you squirm and roll your hips, grinding down on that conveniently placed thigh. He thought of everything, it seemed. You did wonder how many times before he brought people to their downfall with those hands alone. But then, you would be lying if you would not admit that he had rather nice hands. And that you have not thought about this before Oslo.

“Glad it’s working, love” he commented upon a louder gasp from you.

For some reason, the nickname acted like a trigger. Feeling a surge of frustration, you bucked your hips against his, needing more.

“Don’t call me that” you spit the words out, relishing in the look of surprise in his eyes.

But he only needed a moment to shake it off before picking up the pace and curling his fingers inside you. Now it was close.

“What then?” Neil searched your eyes intently as though he was doing anything else but taking you apart with his two fingers and a thumb.

In response, you could only shudder, feeling your muscles tense in the anticipation of the near end.

“My love?” the proposition broke through the haze overwhelming your mind.

My god. Only with him, those two simple words could cause such an onslaught of feelings. There was something so achingly tender in his gaze that no matter the situation, your heart was set ablaze. He looked as though he was relieved to finally use those words. Suddenly, it was not just Neil lending you a helping hand in an hour of need. It was an act of love, further cementing your status as lovers. You were not sure whether it was that realization or what Neil has been doing to you that made the world explode before your eyes. Perhaps it was both. You only managed to breathe out a warning in the form of his name, but he understood.

“Look at me. I want to see what I did to you” he angled your chin again so you were forced to meet his gaze “So that I can remember this later” the husky whisper was the ultimate push over the edge.

Oh christ. You gripped his shoulder tightly and undid the tie, making it fall to the ground. Neil did not even notice, staring at you mesmerized. With the last bits of sanity, you took hold of his neck, bringing him close. The wave of pleasure made you tense up like a bowstring before you came with a shudder and a cry.

“Neil…” you got struck by the hope you saw in his eyes.

This time nothing was stopping you. No lips on yours to take over the words that were slowly choking you. The high he gave you took away all the inhibitions and worries. Neil was there, with you, a solid presence beneath your fingertips and an anchor to keep you from getting lost in your head. And that was enough.

“I love you” the three words were easy to utter for something you struggled to keep inside that long.

In response, Neil smiled and pressed his forehead against yours tenderly. The darkness in his eyes made way for pure happiness and conviction. Maybe this time it wasn’t a mistake.

“I know” he whispered and covered your lips in a sweet kiss.

Now that you were not holding back anything kissing Neil felt like absolution. You were never particularly religious, but he could be your eternal salvation, for the body and the soul. The only person you ever needed that much. 

Breaking the kiss with a sigh, Neil took a step back and retracted the hand that was still stroking your navel. You watched with a slight surprise as he glanced at a watch.

“Are you in a rush?” with cheeks burning, you took out a tissue and passed it to him.

He took it with a curt nod and cleaned his hand. As you observed him like that, with messed up hair, unbuttoned collar, and slightly flushed cheeks, the reality of the situation started dawning on you. Not only have you allowed Neil to finger you in a dirty alley, but also you have confessed your feelings in the heat of the moment. And yet, he was still there…

“Unfortunately, yes, the meeting is in ten, and I still have to get there” Neil picked up the tie from the ground and brushed off the dirt “Trust me, I’d love to continue with this…” carelessly he tied the knot and took a step closer again “But we should leave something for the future too” with playful sparks in his eyes he brushed the hair away from your eyes.

Oh my god.

“Can’t you for once… not do this” sighing heavily, you focused on readjusting the underwear and zipping up your pants.

Everything was better than looking into those blue eyes.

“Where would be the fun in that” Neil buckled your belt, just as quickly as he undid it previously “I must admit that after this, I’m curious to see how you’ll react once I do it properly one day… with my mouth and then…” he trailed off, fingers brushing over your stomach once again.

“Neil… don’t” using your own power, you brushed your hips over his “Or you won’t make it to that meeting” you glanced at his crotch knowingly.

“As tempting as that is… I’d rather not disappoint TP” with a final caress of your side, he took a step back again “Don’t worry about me though. I’ll deal with this later” he adjusted the trousers slightly “I’m used to it” the hint of a smile was enough to help you understand.

You gaped. It was hard to think straight again. Surely…not? Right?

“You- what? Because of me?” you stuttered, bewildered and perplexed.

“Yes, absolutely” Neil shrugged and attempted to smooth his hair “Pretty often, but then you’re quite the inspiration, my love” he winked, enjoying your sudden paralysis.

Now that sort of image was bound to keep you up at night. For some reason, you never thought that he would think about you like that, always assuming there were better fantasies to use in need. But maybe… maybe he had it just as bad as you did.

“I have to run” Neil kissed you on the cheek, bringing your mind back to the present moment.

“Does this… change anything?” you met his gaze, hoping he will catch on to the meaning.

“No, not at all” the soft smile contrasted the recent conversation tone “I’ll text you later”

“You better” you mirrored his smile, watching him disappear in the crowd.

Wow… Now that was an interesting walk. Sighing, you rested your head against the brick wall for a few minutes longer, trying to level your breathing.

*** You were not given much break from Neil that day. To clear your head, you went for a walk around the city centre, visiting curious shops, and spending time in a cosy café. Just anything that did not have to do with the blonde bastard was good enough to shut up your rebelling brain. After all, now he knew everything, and that was a dangerous situation. You did your best to ignore your phone for most of the day however when it buzzed on your way back to the apartment it was hard to resist checking. He did text just as promised:

“Did you miss me?” and then “I’ll have some news for you all later”

Maybe things, in fact, have not changed…

“Maybe a little” smiling, you keyed in the code to the door.

Inside, you quickly settled on the sofa with some indulgent crisps, about to tune into the team’s favourite Estonian soap ‘Õnne 13’, which you all watched every evening. It was terribly boring (especially when one did not understand a single word), and yet after a few days, you wanted nothing but to know what Alma will have for dinner that night. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

The latest dose of drama from the shithole called Morna got interrupted by your phone ringing. Neil, of course. Ignoring the offended stares from the other eight people in the room, you picked up the phone:

“Hey”

“Evening, my love” you could hear how happy he was to use those words.

Your heart summersaulted, making you exhale.

“I like the sound of that” grinning you walked out into the corridor to hide from the curious looks.

“Me too. Is everyone there with you?” jumping straight into the business was probably good for you both.

“Yeah. You’ve interrupted our shitty soap” at your adjective, a choir of outraged voices rose in the living room.

“My bad. Can you put me on the speaker? I could give you a run over the plan”

“Of course,” you motioned for everyone to gather around the table and put your phone in the middle “You’re on”

“Okay, so basically TP wants to take over the plutonium piece that is being transported through Tallinn in three days on its way to a nuclear depot in Italy. The point is not to let it get into Sator’s hands who thinks we’re cooperating with him”

“How will it be transported?” Ives propped his chin on his hand, listening intently.

“Reinforced truck with police escort front and back. Tracked via GPS” leaning back in the chair, you listened to Neil’s voice “Any unplanned stop or different turn and in come the reinforcements”

“What’s his plan then?”

“I believe he wants to take it out on the move with the use of a fire truck. Among others”

The hint of a smile in that sentence made you comment:

“So, you’re not the only crazy one around” earning a few amused grins from the people around, you briefly felt victorious.

Briefly.

“Something tells me you’re into that. Judging by what you let me do to you in that alley”

Fuck. A sharp gasp you let out made everyone turn to look at you. Gripping the edge of the table, you wanted nothing but to disappear. Or die. All the blood drained from your face as you stammered.

“Neil- you-” there was not enough air in the room “I-”

Wheeler shot you a worried look after you let out a small choking sound and spoke:

“Anyway…  why are we needed?” the professional tone made everyone turn their attention back to the mission.

You had to thank her later for saving your dignity. And life.

“To be on hand if things get dirty. I’ll send you the brief now it lists the details of his plan” Neil resumed the topic as though nothing happened “Tomorrow, I’ll call to let you know what exactly I need. That’s it for tonight, enjoy your evening”

Before anyone could make a move, you snatched your phone from the table and muttered:

“You’re dead”

You ended the call and stormed off to your room, slamming the doors. You could not believe his audacity to say something like that with everyone on the receiving end. The bastard ought to pay for that. Unable to calm down, with hands shaking violently and your head in absolute disarray, you grabbed the coat and made beeline for the exit out of the flat. It was pretty late for a solitary walk, but you hardly had anything to lose. Before you could make a swift exit, Ives’ stopped you with a hand on the arm. You met his gaze with impatience:

“So… how was the alley?” while he kept his face straight, the amused tone was there.

Bloody men.

“Fuck off” you shook off his hand and opened the door “I’m going out, and hopefully I’ll get killed. Don’t wait up”

Before you slammed the door in his face, you heard the parting words:

“Have fun”

The cold Estonian breeze was a welcomed sensation for your tired and thoroughly pissed off mind. You put up the hood of your coat and wandered off into the night.

*** Unfortunately, no one was willing to kill you. Around 1 am, you grudgingly made your way back to the apartment, relieved when no one was around to corner you. Once you were safe in your locked bedroom, you took out the phone for the first time in three hours. Unsurprisingly there were two missed calls and three texts from Neil, plus one message from Wheeler. She was checking whether you were still alive, which was a rather touching gesture, and so you replied to her first. Then, sighing heavily, you went through the texts from Neil:

“I’m sorry” then “But I wasn’t entirely wrong, was I?” and finally, “Are you alright?”

That son of a bitch…

“You’re so going to pay for this” you typed back and lied down on the bed. He was quick to reply, which meant he stayed up. Potentially waiting for you to reach out. Talking about confusing signals…

“I was hoping you’d say that” you groaned.

“After that disaster of a meeting, I went for a walk. Found a perfect spot for murder in cold-blood. You won’t even know what hit you”

Maybe that will do the job.

“You did. Only a lot earlier than you think”

It didn’t. Sighing, you cursed your inability to leave him on read.

“I’ve had enough of you today, g’night”

“I seriously doubt that, but good night, darling” and then “I hope your dreams will be as good as our little moment”

That surge of frustration was only made worse when you found a stray short blonde hair on your blouse while changing for bed. The idiot not only had your heart, but everything else too, it seemed.

[last-operator-standing]

Toll of the Bell

Chapter 2 - Tempestuous

> Ao3

> Chapter 1 (tumblr)

> Chapter 3 (tumblr)

Summary: What now? He could roll over and accept the fate thrust upon him and die as Adler intended. Starting a new life away from it all couldn't be that bad either. Or…

Or he could finish the mission.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: None apply this chapter

Words: 3.4k (5.4k total)

A/N: This took me a little longer than I wanted but I have the next few chapters thought out now, so hopefully I'll be able to get them done and shared soon!

It's bright and early when Lazar shuffles in and startles Bell awake. He offers a sheepish smile and holds up the tray in his hand as peace offering. "Thought you might be hungry." 

 Bell stares down at the tray Lazar sets across his lap. There's a small bowl of noodles in broth and a pack of unopened saltines along with a bottle of water. "You've been out for a while. Figured you should start with something light." A soft jingle fills the silence and draws Bell's attention. There's a gentle pressure at his left wrist and he tries to peer curiously at what Lazar's doing. 

 "Can't eat without hands, eh?" He playfully waves Bell's now free hand about. Bell can't resist the small smile that makes its way across his face. It falls quickly when he waits expectantly for his other arm to be released only for Lazar to awkwardly avoid his eyes. 

 "Eat up." The atmosphere turns tense and awkward. "We can, uh… Talk when you're done." It sounds more like a question than a statement. Lazar makes a quick retreat, leaving Bell alone with his bland breakfast. 

 Bell sits in silence. The meal remains untouched and he stares unblinking into the cooling bowl. His previous anxieties start to resurface, leaving him nervous and uncertain once more. One question in particular forces itself to the front of his mind.

 What now?

Lazar wouldn't save him just to turn around and execute him, right? He must want something. More intel? Perhaps he and Park were starting a separate investigation into Perseus. 

 "I just.. I feel like I owe you, Bell."

 Bell heaves a heavy sigh. All this thinking was giving him a headache. He finally relents and reaches his free hand for the saltines, bringing them to his still restrained hand to pull the package open. The plastic is stubborn at first and refuses to part. No amount of tugging or prying can pull the traitorous material apart. Bell is seconds away from gnawing the damn thing off when it finally gives, showering him in crumbs and scattering perfectly good crackers to the floor.

 The dramatic groan and loud Russian cursing is well justified, Bell decides. He angrily stuffs a saltine into his mouth and crunches it with a vengeance. The door is abruptly thrown wide, nearly causing him to choke in surprise.

 "Bell, are you-" 

 Lazar pauses to take in the sight of the wide-eyed Bell and his mess of saltines. 

 "I can explain."

 Lazar visibly relaxes and grins. "We thought someone was trying to kill you with all that yelling." From behind his shoulder, Park peers in, calculating eyes scanning the room. They both step inside. Lazar takes a seat on the edge of the bed and snatches a cracker from the open pack. Park remains at the door, leaning against the frame. Bell doesn't miss the way she discreetly holsters her gun. 

 "So, Bell." It's Park who speaks this time, catching his attention. "What do you remember?" Something about her tone feels familiar. Almost.. unsettling.

 "So close to Perseus."

 "I, uh.. Well.." 

 The room is dark. The overhead lamp is the only thing to illuminate the space. Lazar stands nearby. He faces Bell, but his expression is twisted in something akin to discomfort. "The CIA reinvented you, Bell." Adler stands directly beside the gurney he's strapped to, demanding all of Bell's attention. "If you believed you were someone else, we could lead you to a place where you'd give it all up."

 "Fuck this," he hears his voice waver with fear. It's the wrong thing to say. "I don't think so." Adler practically launches himself forward and roughly grabs the front of Bell's vest. "One way or another, Bell, we're gonna get it out of you." 

 "I mean, I remember up to Solovetsky."

 The bitter wind feels good against his face. It brings a sense of serenity to Bell's turbulent thoughts despite the tense atmosphere with Adler. 

 "It was never personal."

 Bell chews on his lip as the memories resurface. "And when Adler.. shot me. But nothing new with Perseus." Park's eyes narrow a fraction, further unsettling him. There's something else on his mind that's been bothering him since the first moment he saw Park. 

 "Ah, well, give it time," Park offers without much conviction. She opens her mouth to speak again but Bell cuts her off.

 "I'm sorry," he blurts. The apology seems to catch Park by surprise. "I should have been faster. If only I had been faster, I could have saved you, too…" Park suddenly looks uncomfortable.

 "It's alright, Bell. It.. It wasn't your fault."

 "How are you..?" 

 "Alive?" Park's expansion finally softens. "After the skyhook pulled you two off, I knew I only had seconds left before I was dead. I managed to stumble back inside and take cover in an empty room. Luckily, Perseus didn't seem interested in checking if the building was clear."

 Bell gets the feeling there's more to her story but he opts not to pry. A silence falls over the three. Lazar keeps picking at the abandoned pack of crackers while Park keeps a steady watchful gaze on Bell. Before Solovetsky, he would have matched her with his own unyielding stare. Back then he had no reason to doubt or fear her. But now he's not so sure. 

 "So kid, what will you do now?" Bell looks away from Park and over to Lazar. He's sitting casually beside Bell like he's unbothered by the tension but his easy smile doesn't quite reach his sharp eyes. It isn't lost on Bell that his words up to now have all been for show. 

 They don't trust me.

 He shifts uncomfortably, careful not to make a bigger mess of crackers and soup, and clears his throat before he speaks up. "Perseus is still out there," he starts slowly. Park's expression flashes and Bell tries not to flinch. Lazar simply watches and listens closely. "Someone needs to stop him. I want to stop him. He still has the codes to Greenlight, right? All he needs is a new location to activate."

 "Why?" Lazar is casual about his question but his eyes tell a different story. He wants to believe what Bell is saying.

 "Because it isn't right." It seems so obvious to Bell that he's almost surprised by the question. "This is bigger than me. Millions of lives are at risk. I don't know who I was before, but.. I know who I am now ." Bell does his best to sell it, and to his relief they seem to buy it. 

 The truth is, the Russian doesn't know what else to do. He can't remember his life before MK-Ultra. Right now, the mission is all he has; stop Perseus. Without that, he has… nothing. 

 "I just want to stop Perseus before he causes a nuclear war."

   And maybe punch those damn shades off Adler's face , but he leaves that part to himself. 

 Lazar hums thoughtfully and Park starts to relax. They don't seem quite at ease yet, but it's a start. 

 Over the next few days, Bell heals and collects himself. After their talk, Park eventually gave in to Lazar's pressuring and agreed to allow Bell some freedom. Stretching his legs feels nice and the fresh air certainly helps him collect his thoughts. This safehouse was undoubtedly cleaner than the last, with actual rooms and furniture rather than a dingy warehouse. 

 "What about Adler?" 

 Lazar and Bell are sitting peacefully at the kitchen table, Lazar with a bagel and an open file, Bell with a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Lazar looks up at the question. "You sound like you're ready to fight him." The Russian huffs with indignance at his amused tone. "He shot me," he complains loudly. "Just one good punch, Lazar. Please ?" 

 "You'll have to get in line," Park grunts as she joins them in the kitchen, gravitating towards the coffee machine. "I think we'd all like to give that bastard a good punch." 

 Lazar grins. "I think you should avoid throwing punches for now, Bell, least he shoots you a second time." Bell pouts. Lazar flicks bagel crumbs at him. "Jokes aside, if you're serious about taking down Perseus, it's probably best if the rest of the team doesn't know you're still alive. For now, anyway. It'll only cause more problems and distractions, not to mention Adler probably wouldn't hesitate to kill you for real."

 Bell sighs dramatically. "Alright, alright, fine . But I'm definitely getting a swing in once Perseus is six feet under." He throws his head back and downs the rest of his coffee. "So where do we start?"

 Park leans against the counter with her mug of coffee. "Well, if you can remember anything about Perseus or his associates.."

 That tone is back again but Bell forces himself to not bristle at it. "I'm sorry. Nothing new has come to kind yet." Park gives a slow nod. "You were our most successful subject. Any old memories will be buried behind weeks of.. reprogramming. Now that the drugs are filtering out of your system, it should only be a matter of time."

 "Is there any way to speed it up?" Park squints suspiciously so Bell is quick to add, "Maybe if I can remember something, we'll know where to head next."

 An idea pops into Lazar's head. "Bell, do you recognize any of them?" He pulls something from the folder in front of him and slides it across so Bell can see. Park steps closer to watch curiously. "They're POIs we think are working for Perseus." 

 It's a group of photos. Bell sets aside his mug to spread them out and study them closely. The first three are men, but he doesn't recognize them. The next two are women and he feels discouraged when their images fail to spark any memories, too. There's one last one. He slides it close and is about to push it away when something scratches at the back of his mind. 

 The pub was lively tonight. Loud and rowdy with cheering, swearing, and the clanking of glass on glass. Bell too embraced the vibes; His spirit was high and he was most certainly past tipsy. He was sitting at the bar with his comrades, a still-full shot glass in hand. 

 "Aww, c'mon, give us the details!" The man to his left nudged him roughly. He grinned  wickedly and despite the sunglasses covering his face, Bell still caught him wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

 "Did he kiss you? Did you kiss him ?" Bell felt his face flush and he shoved back. No way in hell he was going to answer that. "I don't kiss and tell, Vang." 

 "Bell?"

 "Aww, you did !" Bell huffed and threw back his glass as an excuse not to answer. He did his best to ignore how hot his face was. "No, wait. He definitely kissed you, didn't he?" Bell choked on the shot. The man grinned wider. 

 "Leave the poor kid alone." Another familiar voice called out, not bothering to hide their amusement. "Now get over here so I can beat your ass. Loser pays the tab." Bell turned to look at his savior. Their figure is too blurry to make out, but he's so sure he knows them. 

 "Oooh bro, you're going down !"

 "Bell?" Lazar tries again, shaking his shoulder and startling him from the memory. "You alright there? You look like you've seen a ghost."

 "I.." The Russian glances between Park and Lazar before he stares back down at the picture. The person's face is completely covered, but the glasses make him unmistakable. Naga.

 "Kapano Vang," Bell offers quietly and taps the photograph. "They call him Naga." Lazar watches him a moment longer before pulling the picture back over. "You know him?" 

 The memory implied Bell more than just knew him. A feeling in his gut tells him so too. They were.. friends, perhaps. "Yeah.. We are- We were friends. I think." 

 Park remains silent as she observes. Lazar offers a slow nod. A gentle push and the picture lands back in front of Bell. "Do you remember anything else about him?" 

 Bell stares. The shades are so painfully familiar. He can't quite shake the sense he's seen them a lot. This shit is stressful. I need a cigarette. Something in his mind clicks. 

 "New shipment's ready." The nicotine filled Bell's lungs with a pleasant burn. He turned and offered the cigarette to Naga with a hum of acknowledgement. "Got a little extra if you're interested. On the house." The Laotian accepted the cigarette, taking a grateful drag while his free hand slipped into a vest pocket and produced a small package. He held it up to between his fingers and offered it to Bell with a small flourish. "Rest of it's headed out to some of my buyers, so don't get hooked."

 Bell hesitated. "I'm not so sure.." Naga pressed it into his hands anyway. "Hey, hey, it's quality stuff. How do you think my lines stay in business? Your boyfriend will certainly thank me." 

 " Not my boyfriend , man." Naga cackles. "Sure, bro, sure."

 A shaky sigh escapes Bell. The memories are blurry and incomplete, but there's enough there to put some pieces of the puzzle together. "He's.. a smuggler."

 "For Perseus?" 

 Bell gives a small shrug. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess so." Right now, Bell can't be sure about anything.

  "I'll make some calls and check with MI6." Park sets her empty mug in the sink. "We have a name now. That's a good start." 

 Not wasting any time, Bell muses as he watches Park leave. That's fine with him. The less time to dwell on his past transgressions, the less time he'll have to deal with the impending existential crisis. 

 "Meanwhile, I'll check in on the team." Gathering the papers and photos back into the folder, Lazar stands. "What about me?" Lazar barely even pauses to acknowledge Bell. "Stay put. Read a book. Do a puzzle. Embrace day drinking. Do whatever you want, just stay put ."

 "But I-"

 " No , Bell. Water's too hot right now. Just lay low, let it cool. You'll get your turn but not yet. Just enjoy being dead while it lasts." Lazar's wink is met by Bell's deadpan face.

 By noon, the Russian's already run out of things to do. He's showered, washed the dishes, and cleaned the space lent to him. Now he sits at the table once more, impatient tapping the surface and bouncing his leg. He briefly considers snooping but the last thing he wants to do is give Park a reason to confine him to a bed again. 

 Time creeps by. Boredom is barely kept at bay by the pen and paper Bell found discarded on the end table beside the couch. The doodles are nothing to write to home about, but it provides temporary amusement. When he gets tired of that, he abandons them at the kitchen table and opts for a nap. 

 It feels like he's barely just closed his eyes before he's woken by an insistent shaking. 

 "Bell. Get up. Bell ." 

 Bell groans. It's dark now so he has to squint to make out the figure kneeling next to him. "Lazar? What, man, I was sleeping ." 

 "We need to go. Now. C'mon." A hand wraps under Bell's arm and pulls, forcing the Russian to his feet. Lazar's voice was calm, but the firm grip on his arm made Bell nervous. "What's going on?" He has no choice but to allow himself to be guided towards the back door. 

 "Here, wear this." Something is shoved into his hands and he fumbles to grab it. Looking down, it's a thin black coat. Inside rests a matching beanie hat and vibrant blue scarf. "What's going on," he tries again. "You're kinda freaking me out."

 "Look, just put the shit on and I'll explain on the way. There's no time right now."

 Lazar snatches the hat and scarf from the pile and Bell flips the coat around to slide his arms in. He grunts when the hat is forced over his blonde curls and the scarf is wrapped high around his neck and face. Once the coat is zipped and all curls tucked messily under the hat, Lazar practically shoves Bell out the back door and follows close behind.

 The air is bitter and cold but Bell hardly notices past the adrenaline. A brisk pace is set. Squealing tires catch his attention but an arm around his shoulders stops him from turning to look. 

 "Park tipped off MI6." 

 The statement is unexpected. 

 "She called to warn me. Apparently, she

told them she was harboring a loose CIA asset with potentially valuable information that needed to be relocated immediately for proper interrogation. How they got an extraction team on a Soviet island, I'll never know." Lazar heaves a groan as they turn the corner and dip out of sight. "She's going to kill me once she figures out we ran."

 First Adler, now Park. I'm getting tired of proving myself. Bell sighs lightly. For all he knows, Lazar is just leading him to a CIA trap. Who gets the broken toy first, MI6 or the CIA? They walk in silence for some time, occasionally cutting through small alleyways and doubling back around others. 

 "Why are you helping me?" Bell finally speaks up. "Look, if you're just going to take me back to Adler, do me a favor and kill me now." I refuse to be shot by him a second time. 

 "Don't be so dramatic." Lazar gives him a rough pat on the back. "There's another safehouse not much further ahead. I got it sorted out on the way here. Told them I had a potential lead I needed to follow up on and that's all they needed to hear."

 "As for why? Well, I personally think when it comes to catching Perseus, there's nobody more qualified than you. I trust you, Bell."

 A quiet clank-clank-clank fills the silence. Bell's eyes were wide in shock. He wasn't sure he heard right. There were other, more experienced agents who would certainly make a better second-in-command than him. "But sir, surely there's somebody else who-"

 "Nonsense!" Perseus stood from his desk and marched to Bell's side. He swept his coat back and planted firm hands onto Bell's shoulders. "There's nobody more qualified than you. I trust you, comrade." Bell swelled with pride and childlike enthusiasm. "Of course, sir. I won't let you down."

 The memory hits Bell like a slap to the face but he remains nonchalant despite the rising dread. He almost misses Lazar that stopped and narrowly avoids colliding into the back of him. "Right, here we are." 

 Bell finds it odd that the safehouse is nestled in the middle of a public street but he's too tired and too cold to question it. Keys jingle as Lazar frees them from his pocket and unlocks the door. They hurry inside and lock it behind them. "Home away from home." 

 It's smaller than the MI6 house. It's just as neat and organized, though, so Bell can't complain. 

 "Kitchen's here. Bathroom is the first door on the left. Your room will be the second on the left, and I'll be across from you." Lazar gestures as he speaks. "Help yourself to anything you find. I, for one, need some sleep. We can talk about everything in the morning." He disappears down the hall. 

 "What about Naga?" The Russian calls. 'Did you find anything out about him?"

 " Tomorrow, Bell." A door snaps closed. 

 Bell clicks his tongue in annoyance but relents. The coat, scarf, and hat are left discarded on the back of the couch on his way toward his designated room.

Damn it all. As he lays tangled in the sheets and nursing his aching wound, Bell struggles to recall anything else about Naga or Perseus, but he comes up blank. Memories seem to be coming and going at their own discretion and it's infuriating . Now his mind is buzzing too much to sleep. Between Adler and Park and his renewed quest to stop Perseus, he doesn't know what to think. He can only hope Lazar has something to share in the morning to shed some light on it all. 

[checkurwindow]

you’re smiling, right?

Book: Open Heart

Warning: a pinch of suggestive material Rating: General Pairing: Ethan x F!MC Word Count: 3200+  Author’s note: A sequel to “i’m so scared”, angst, angst and more angst. I love this fic so much. Check out my masterlist for more!

He should have done more.

She looked so small and frail in the hospital bed, a stark contrast from her usual healthy and fit form. With her hands resting on her stomach, rising and falling in sync with her low breathing, it reminded Ethan too much of death. He impulsively reached out, stopped himself, then reached out again to shift her hands so it laid at her sides. 

His hands were quivering, his breath was more shaky and heavier than even hers. He wasn’t supposed to be there, he wasn’t on call and visiting hours were long over, but he was Doctor Ethan freaking Ramsey, world-class attending, which was exactly what he told the nurse who came in a while ago. He wasn’t forceful, he hadn’t demanded (something that rarely occurred), but he figured the nurse had let him stay not because of his position, but because she heard his raw and thready voice, or maybe it was his red and slightly swollen eyes that gave it away, maybe because he looked like he was prepared to leap out the window.

To be truthful, he was. But he held on because he had hope that the light at the end of the tunnel was nearing. She was improving, only by an incredibly small margin, but improving nonetheless. That’s what he told himself: she was getting better, she’ll be fine. 

Lying was bad, but sometimes lying to himself was the only option he had left.

He should have done less.

It was all his fault. It was his idea to bring up that stupid clinical trial, it was his actions that pushed her away, it was his fault that he wouldn’t even be able to say goodbye now. The knowledge that if he hadn’t done anything, he would still be able to hear her voice one more time, to see her smile, to hear her laugh, it ate away at him.  

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” She said to him when he first told her about it. He should have listened to her, she was always right, but he wanted her to get better so damn badly that he made it worse. 

“It’ll work, I know it will,” He told her when she started feeling so weak from the drugs that she could barely sit up in bed without her chest heaving. If only he hadn’t gotten involved, she wouldn’t have to go through so much pain, he wouldn’t have to go through the pain of seeing her like that either. 

He stood in the corner of the well-decorated hospital ward that felt so empty without her joyous personality to fill it. It was strange, really. He had been in more hospital wards than he could count, he broke the news to sobbing patients and family members without feeling much of his own emotions, but even entering the vicinity of her room could make him break down in a fit of sobs. 

Letting himself slide down onto the cool floor, he curled his fists tighter in his green leather jacket, wrapping it around his shoulders as best as he could. It smelled of a number of things, the most significant being her. It smelled of cheap alcohol, of cigarettes, and sweat, it smelled of those trashy clubs he never liked to go to, but loved it whenever he went with her. 

“Doctor Ramsey?” The voice and a knock on the door made him peel his eyes away from where she laid on the bed in the middle of the room. 

It was the nurse from earlier. Taylor, he vaguely remembers her name from before. She had a piping cup of hot coffee in one hand, a bun in the other, both undoubtedly subpar and from the cafeteria. 

“Thanks,” is all he mumbled when he received the items from her, lazily tossing the bun onto the bedside table as she slipped out and back into the hallway. 

The coffee wasn’t whiskey, which was what he told himself he really needed at that moment, but at the very least it was enough to keep him awake a while longer, enough for him to continue watching over her. Because he would, he’d stay up all day and all night until she woke up and he gets the chance to say he’s sorry, even though Ethan Ramsey never apologises; but if she did, if she just opened her eyes, he’d do anything she wanted him to. 

And if she didn’t. Well, he just hoped he wouldn’t have to find out anytime soon. 

He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up.

There was a point where rage met serenity, where the anger and the storm that roared would settle, the point before all hell broke loose. It was the eye of the hurricane, where the pain and the fury that built up inside of him just stalled, paused, and there was a moment of peace, the calm before the storm. 

That was where Ethan found himself now. He was enraged, but too tired and helpless to do anything about it, so he did nothing. The world grew quiet and his skin went numb. The rain no longer stung against his bare flesh, the pain that had erupted in his chest faded to a sort of hollow feeling between his ribs. The shouts that came from his throat grew silent, and the fog that clouded his eyes cleared. Complete clarity, complete silence.

He remembered the way the adrenaline pumped through his blood as he stood in front of the classroom. The time he found her friendly smile amid the sea of judgement. 

He smiled at the memory of running away in the evenings in search of exciting adventures in their teenage years, how carefree and unknowingly in love they were with each other. He could remember the sound of her voice, every small agreement and hum as he rambled on and they drove late into the night, nowhere in particular they had to be. He could remember the sound of tires on a lonely stretch of highway, and the crackling of the radio in between their favourite songs. He could remember the sound of her almost obnoxiously enthusiastic singing slowly turning to a quiet mumbling as they drove further and further away from everyone else, just the two of them. 

He could remember the sound of her breath in between kisses, the mattress shifting under them as they melted into one another. That day was so clear in his head, the day after he told her, the day after she told him. The drastically different pieces of information they gave each other was uneasy at first, but they soon agreed that they had waited too long to not be with each other. He remembered the steady beating of her heartbeat as he held her close.

He could remember the blissful sound of her laugh; her real, hysterical, full-of-wheezing laugh, the one that erupted from her chest whenever they shared something as personal as an inside joke or something as simple and stupid as finding each other’s gaze in the middle of a terrible school presentation. He could remember every math formula or history fact she repeated to herself while studying for finals, in hopes of achieving her dream of being a doctor and getting the chance to help people. He could remember every note, every chord, every lyric of every one of those acoustic, raw pop songs that she loved so much throughout the years. He could remember the sound of puddles splashing and metal fences clanging as they ran away from a place they weren’t supposed to be at in the first place. 

He could remember the moment when he woke up in her bed, his nostrils intoxicated by her scent that he loved so much and his arms wrapped around her, her head nestled deep in his side, all the what if’s filling his head, imagining what could’ve been if only those few little things were different. He could remember the way his fingers gently traced those three little words endlessly on the skin of her forearm, and the way she let him go on and on for who knows how long while she was awake before she finally mumbled a single, “love you too” and they contently drifted back to sleep. 

He could remember being held back by her friends as he helplessly watched the code team rush into the room, desperately hoping that they could help her, that they could help him. He could remember the feeling of pain in his throat as he let out a desperate scream when he saw them step away from where she lifelessly laid, the doctor looking down to his watch and calling time of death. 

He could remember the way he felt when Lahela came to their his apartment and cracked the type of joke that she would have told him, the kind he used to enjoy hearing from her, but despised it when it came in somebody else’s voice. He could remember when Bryce quietly uttered a pitiful “I’m sorry” and handed him an envelope. He couldn’t muster up the strength to find out what was inside, so for a long time, he didn’t.

He couldn’t admit it to himself that she was dead and his whole world had fallen silent.

One day, when he finally felt ready to face the music, he went into his living room, picked up one of the throw pillows she bought him to “add a little bit of colour to your monochrome world”, he unzipped it from the side, stuck his hand in and retrieved the letter. 

He peeled off the little sticker holding the envelope together and let his hand run over her handwriting on the paper. And for the first time, he finally felt like he was ready to admit that she was actually gone.

To Ethan, 

     Did Bryce crack a joke or try to cheer you up before he handed you this letter? Did Jackie tease you with an obviously fake amount of sarcasm because she’s too scared to say that she’s been crying? Did Elijah offer to come over to our your place and insist on having a Marvel movie marathon, or offer to watch those boring nature documentaries that you’re too embarrassed to admit you enjoy but everybody already knows you do? Did Sienna bring you all our your favourite baked goods and groceries and enough home-cooked food to feed you and Jenner for the rest of the month? Because I know you, and I know you won’t be able to go out to get your own, and I don’t want you to have to live off my old instant noodles, even though they’re great (for taste, not nutrition).

     Well, they should have, because I specifically asked them to do every single bit of it, and I’ll be mad if they don’t force you to take their help, even though I know you’ll try your best to convince them that you’re okay, but I know for a fact that you aren’t. 

     I don’t want you to shut everyone out of your life now that I’m gone, because I won't be there to help you open back up when you’re ready. I want you to embrace their help and maybe even embrace them. (What? A girl can’t dream?) 

     Most importantly, I don’t want you to feel empty. It’s perfectly fine to feel sad and to grieve, but don’t let yourself feel empty. I’m still here, I always will be, which means I’ll be watching you, so I don’t want you to associate me with sadness, because I deserve so much better than that and you know it. 

     I want you to get everyone together, and I mean everyone. Pick a place to sit down (extra points if it’s on a roof with lots of alcohol, ask Bryce about that) and talk about your favourite memories of me. I know everyone has good ones. I’m giving you explicit permission right now to tell them about the...snorkeling incident, only because I love you so much and I know you’ve been dying longing to embarrass me and tell everyone about what happened. You remember it, right? Y’know what, I’m gonna take this time to get ahead of the story so you don’t paint me in too bad of a light.

     It was two years ago, you had just discharged a very wealthy patient. Who, for the record, was totally into you, I mean the lady took every opportunity possible to sneak a look at your ass (I should know, as I would’ve done the same thing in her position). She gave you the contact number to her travel agency, where she had booked a 3-day trip to an ultra-swanky private island holiday that she and her husband couldn’t go to as she was on bed rest for another week. 

     You were going to refuse it and let it go to waste (like the idiot you were are), but I convinced you that we could make it a friends’ getaway from the busy Boston life, and you agreed.

     4 hours and a lot of owed favours to cover shifts later, we were toes deep in the smoothest sand I’d ever had the pleasure of experiencing in my life. The only thing your patient failed to mention was that it was a couples retreat, which we definitely weren’t (back then, at least). It was too late to go back, so we just decided to make the most of it. 

     We were snorkeling, and I was having the time of my life...until I spotted a jellyfish. I know you’re laughing at this right now, so stop it. I panicked and started yelling for you to swim back to shore, but you came to me instead, and in the midst of all the panic, I got stung. It was a pain to swim back to shore, and I was totally gonna ask you to pee on my leg if the stinging continued (as a last resort, because I’m not that gross), but you knocked some sense in me by reminding me that white vinegar works so much better. 

     It would’ve been all fine if it ended there, but it most definitely did not. The lifeguard didn’t have any vinegar, but the restaurant was nearby. I practically sprinted into the kitchen and stole the first bottle of vinegar I could find, somehow dodging all the guards that were shouting at me. (I’m fairly sure I’m still a wanted patron there, but I’m not going back anytime soon)

     We made it back to our suite, the pain had subsided a little but the swelling wasn’t looking like it would anytime soon. I passed you the bottle to open...and it wasn’t vinegar. I still have no clue how my mind was THAT clouded that I grabbed a bottle of vodka instead of vinegar. There was no way I was going back to the restaurant, so I snatched the bottle back and took a swig, and oh god was it strong. I think the burning at the back of my throat was worse than whatever the jellyfish could’ve done to me. And you were laughing, you were laughing so hard at me, who was in so much pain, and I’m pretty sure I heard a snort in between your uncontrollable fits of laughter, how dare you?? I know you’re still laughing at this now and I hate you for it. 

     We spent the rest of the night talking and drinking (and you making petty jabs at me), and it was the best night of my life, minus the whole jellyfish fiasco. The rest of the trip was even better, do you remember us pretending to be a couple to enter that competition and winning a private dinner on a yacht? I loved every second of it, and I didn’t know it yet, but I loved you too.

     You’re smiling, right? Good, because that’s exactly how I want it to be, I want you to smile when you think of me, I want you to remember all the good times we had, and forget the bad. I want you to be happy when you think of me, even though our last shared memory wasn’t the best one. When you think of me, hopefully you’ll feel the same way as I do when I think of you: lucky that I fell in love with the most incredible, generous, sweet, comforting person I know, and the person who’s been by my side right from the very first apple slice. 

     I know it’ll be hard, I know that you’ll struggle with all the firsts after me, the first time you go out, the first time you smile, the first time you visit me, the first shift you pick up at the hospital, the first time you feel happy without me, the first person you can talk to about all the things we used to talk about late at night when I couldn’t sleep, the first time you get nervous and you heart starts to race just by the sight of someone else, the first kiss you have without feeling guilty that it isn’t me you’re sharing the moment with, the first I love you with someone else. As much as I want to be the one you share all of it with, the one you spend the rest of your life loving, I can’t. But I still want you to have it, every single little bit of good that you have, I want you to keep it and treasure it, because you deserve it. You deserve all the good in the world and so much more. 

     Most importantly, I want you to move on. Shed all the tears that you need to and hold on to every one of my possessions for as long as you need, hide in as many supply closets and pour your feelings out as many times as you need to, but one day I want you to be able to read this letter with a smile on your face and let the light of the world shine down on you, because that’ll be me up there, making sure you know that I’m always looking out for you.

     Since the first day I saw you in your little blue button-down, to when you helped me up when I fell off my bike, to when you sneaked me out of my dorm room to get midnight milkshakes, to when we passed our boards, to when you stood by my side at the trial during intern year, to when we had that picnic at the park, to right now, as I write my letter to you, to the day I go, to the day after that, and the day after that, and the day after that, and every single day after that. I don’t regret most of the things I’ve done in my life, even all the bad choices I’ve made. The only regret I have is not realising just how much I cared about you earlier, we could have been so much greater if we weren’t so stupid. It’s almost poetic, don’t you think?

     Eventually, one day, when I see you again, I’ll be able to tell it to you myself, but for now, you’re just gonna have to make it through with the words in this letter.

     I love you, Ethan Jonah Ramsey, now and forever. 

With every single ounce of my love,

Your best friend.

[dakotacrisis]

Cherry Blossoms (2)

Kagami comes to a horrifying realization

Read on AO3

---

One thing Kagami did dislike about spring time was all the pollen in the air. Allergies had hit her hard these past coming weeks. Her eyes were watery, she couldn’t stop sneezing, and there was a persistent tickle in her throat that would not go away. Medicine helped but it didn’t block out everything which was a shame. Especially when Kagami was at home and trying to be quiet around her mother and she had to clear her throat every ten minutes.

She could not afford to be dogged down by allergies today though. In the days that had passed since Kagami had met Marinette, the girl that made Kagami’s world pink, they had gotten closer. Adrien was not joking about how easy it was to want to be Marinette’s friend. She was like a large blooming flower and everyone around her were buzzing bees or fluttering butterflies.

While the stand out feature about Marinette was her overwhelming kindness and positivity Kagami was noticing that there was a lot more to her. Marinette could be a bit of a dork. She made bad jokes just like Adrien and got excited about really mundane stuff. She was also incredibly smart. Not just booksmart, the girl was legitimately very clever. Coming up with new solutions to problems that work spectacularly well. She was a leader but treated everyone as equals when they worked together. She never talked down to someone, even when their ideas were stupid.

Kagami was starting to wonder if Marinette had any faults. She seemed too perfect to be real.

Then came the day that they went out to the pool. While the weather had gotten warmer everyone was impatient to get to warmer weather and summer time. So to chase away the hay fever blues Kagami and her friends had decided to go to the swimming pool at the local gym.

Kagami came out in a conservative red one piece bathing suit that was more practical than pretty. The others came out in full in their own swimming attire. Then Marinette walked into the room and all eyes turned. Kagami breathed out in relief when she saw the large yellow cover up Marinette was wearing. Maybe Marinette was one of those people that just liked to sit at the edge with her feet in the water. That would be the safest option. No need for anyone to have a sudden nose bleed at seeing her in a swimsuit.

Just as Kagami had predicted Marinette sat on the sidelines talking with her friends with her feet in the water. Kagami swam up to her.

“This was a nice idea,” Kagami said, “Getting everyone together to go swimming. Everyone seems to be having a lot of fun.”

“Some more than others,” Marinette giggled and pointed across the pool where Kim was trying to get his girlfriend Ondine on his shoulders for a chicken fight. “They do know that the lifeguard is going to yell at them for that, right?”

“The lifeguard is too busy eyeing up Juleka to notice,” Kagami said.

“Oh geez,” Marinette cupped her hands around her mouth, “She has a girlfriend! Stop ogling! She’s way too young for you anyway!”

Kagami stifled a snort. “Wow, didn’t know you were just gonna yell at him like that. I didn’t think it was possible for you to get mad anyone.”

“Oh my sweet Kagami,” Marinette said, “You don’t know how fired up I can really get. That was tame in comparison.”

“Really?” she smirked, “Didn’t peg you as the hotheaded type. What does it take to get you of all people angry?”

“Having a lack of human decency for one--gimme a second--” she shouted at the lifeguard again, “She’s sixteen, gay, and in the three foot end of the pool! How about you pay attention to the idiots on each other’s shoulders over this way!”

The lifeguard sneered but blew his whistle to get the others to stop.

“Marinette!” Alix whined from atop Ivan’s shoulders, “I was just about to win!”

“Boo!” Kim called, “Marinette’s a rat!”

“Don’t get upset at me because you were being irresponsible.” Marinette called back.

The four teenagers shared a look and as one pulled themselves out of the pool and started making their way towards where Marinette and Kagami were. What were they planning? Marinette seemed to sense what was about to happen and scrambled to her feet.

“Oh no you don’t!” Kim grabbed before she could escape, “Ivan, get her feet!”

Ivan scooped up Marinette’s flailing feet.

“Don’t you dare!” Marinette screeched but there was a playful smile on her face, “Kim, I swear if you throw me in the pool you will live to regret it.”

“I think I can live with that,” he smiled back, “On three. One...two...three!” the boys tossed Marinette into the deep end of the pool in a mass of flailing noodle limbs.

She surfaced again sputtering and coughing as she cleared the water from her nose. Everyone was laughing and having a good time.

“You okay?” Kagami swam over to her.

“I’m fine, they’re just a bunch of jokesters who are going to get their comeuppance one day. You hear me, Kim!”

“I’ll believe it when I see it, girly!” Kim cackled and took off with the others once more.

Marinette pulled herself back out of the water and stripped off her now soaked cover up. Kagami almost had a stroke. Underneath her modesty saving cover up was a black two piece that complimented her petite figure perfectly. Kagami turned away so she couldn’t see her blushing face.

Stop it! Stop getting so flustered! She’s just one girl!

Kagami glanced up and noticed that the pervy life guard that had been ogling Juleka was now looking their way. Was he mad that they called him out on being a creep? No...that wasn’t the face of someone who was angry. She looked back at Marinette who was ringing out her coverup and settling it over a chair to dry.

Not today captain pervert! Kagami climbed out of the pool and threw her towel over Marinette. She looked up at Kagami confused. “Hi there, why did you--”

“That lifeguard needs to get reported or something. His eyes were practically glued to your butt, the pig.” Kagami sneered.

“Gross!” Marinette pulled Kagami’s towel closer, shielding herself from any unwanted attention. “I was thinking about getting in the pool but I really don’t want to now.”

“There’s a hot tub in that room over there that no one is using and the lifeguard can’t see into. Did you wanna go in there for a bit?” Kagami suggested.

“Perfect,” the girls adjourned to the hot tub, all the while glaring daggers at the perverted lifeguard. Kagami was going to report him before they left today. Now safely away from the prying eyes the girls sunk into the steaming, bubbling water with sighs of relief.

“Swimming is well and good but I think there’s something very nice about just being able to lounge like this.” Marinette sunk down in her seat so the water lapped at her chin.

“It is rather nice to be able to unwind after a long day, maybe I should try to talk my mother into getting one of these at home. It’d be a god send to have it for after fencing practice.” Kagami hummed in agreement. “Hopefully the steam can also help with my allergies. They have been a nightmare recently.”

“That sucks. Medicine doesn’t help?”

“Not as well as it should.” as if to prove her point Kagami’s throat began to scratch and tickle again. “Ugh,” she coughed, “I think the steam is trying to dislodge the mucus so that’s a plus at least.”

Oh god she just talked about mucus in front of Marinette.

“Poor Kagami,” Marinette wrapped her thin arms around her. She rested her head on Kagami’s shoulder. “It’s such a shame you have to suffer during one of the most beautiful times of the year.”

“Yeah…” Kagami stifled another cough, “Really stinks…”

Marinette let go but didn’t move back to her spot on the other side of the hot tub. Instead opting to sit right next to Kagami to talk. Kagami was thankful for the heat since it hid the hot red blush in her cheeks. How could Marinette be this comfortable when Kagami was fighting to keep herself together?

A few minutes later everyone had to leave. Apparently the pervy lifeguard from before hadn’t learned his lesson and turned his gaze on Alya. Nino rightfully got pissed that this creep was eyeing his girlfriend and they got into a fight. Not the best way to end what was supposed to be a fun outing but at least the lifeguard had gotten what was coming to him.

“We should do this again when someone less creepy isn’t on lifeguard duty.” Marinette sat on the edge of the hot tub, reluctant to leave the sweet warmth just yet.

Kagami nodded in agreement. She had already gotten out and was toweling off. She was trying her best not to stare at Marinette. The last thing she needed was to get caught admiring the way the ends of her hair curled when they dried or the sprinkling of freckles along her shoulders. Or how her face was extra rosy and dewy looking from being in the steam. Or how jealous she was of the droplets of water that ran down her arms and back like a sweet caress--

Oh for the love of teenage hormones! Stop it!

“Since we had to cut this short what do you think about grabbing some juice?” Marinette swung her legs out and slipped.

“Marinette!” Kagami caught her just before she could fall and righted her back on the edge of the hot tub. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, thanks for catching me,” Marinette had settled her arms on Kagami’s shoulders for stability. It was at this moment Kagami realized that she had grabbed hold of Marinette’s waist and was now standing between her spread legs. Marinette smiled down at her like none of this bothered her in the least. It probably didn’t. Of course it wouldn’t. Why should it? She was Marinette and Kagami was just the nice friend that kept her from slipping off the edge of the hot tub. Nothing more to think of. Certainly nothing that would make one combust from raging hormones.

“Of course,” Kagami let go but stayed close enough to help if Marinette fell. She didn’t. Good. For numerous reasons.

“Now I have to insist on getting juice,” Marinette said as she started drying off, “A thank you for saving me.”

“It was really nothing. Don’t feel like you have to award me for being a decent person.” Kagami told her.

“Nonsense, besides, it’s just juice.”

“Alright then,” Kagami couldn’t say no to her, “Juice sounds wonderful.”

“Great! I’ll ask the others if they wanna come too!” Marinette bounced happily out of the room to talk to the others.

Once Kagami was sure she was alone she balled up her towel and screamed into it. This cannot be happening! She cannot be catching feelings for Marinette! Why did god have to put such a beautiful and perfect specimen of a girl in front of her and expect her not to fall? She was like the first warm breeze of spring that cut through the wintry cold. What was Kagami next to her but a chipmunk in hibernation waiting for her to return and be awoken? There were probably a million people that felt that exact same way and yet none of them probably thought of her as anything more than a friend while Kagami had to suffer with her pitched emotions. Every day since she met her those feelings bubbled closer and closer to the service and Kagami wasn’t sure how long she would be able to keep them in.

Most of the class went to get juice after they finished changing. At least in a crowd Kagami could put some distance between her and Marinette. She seated herself at the other end of the table next to Adrien and sucked down her drink to avoid talking.

“You okay?” Adrien asked, “You’ve barely said a word since we left the pool. Did the lifeguard put you off? I can understand if he did.”

“It’s not that,” Kagami sighed, her gaze flicking over to Marinette for the briefest moment, “I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Anything you want to talk about? I’m always here if you need someone.”

“Thanks, Adrien, but I don’t know how you can help in a situation like this. It’s nothing really. Just stupid teenage crap that I am terrible at handling because I have never had to deal with something like it before.”

“You unable to handle something? That’s a first. What could have the great and fearless Kagami Tsurugi so thoroughly flummoxed?”

More like who. Kagami thought sadly. This time when she glanced at Marinette she saw her and waved. Kagami swallowed back another gulp of juice before waving back.

“You know,” Adrien said, “If you don’t feel comfortable talking to me about it maybe you can ask Marinette. She loves helping her friends and she’s seen and dealt with all of our teen drama. There’s nothing the girl can’t handle.”

“I’m sure but it really is nothing. Certainly nothing to bother Marinette about.” How would that conversation even go? Hello, Marinette, I believe I like you and may even be falling in love with you the more I get to know you and I don’t know how to handle that while still remaining your friend. Thoughts? She may as well tear out her heart and offer it up on a silver platter for her to eat while she’s at it. It would certainly be less painful and a lot quicker.

The group adjourned for the day and Kagami said a quick goodbye but not before Marinette grabbed hold of her and pulled her into a hug. “Have a nice evening, Kagami. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Bye!”

“Goodbye,” Kagami whispered the word but Marinette was already huffing it away from the cafe.

“Hey! How come I didn’t get a goodbye hug?” Adrien pouted, “Lucky you, I knew you two would get along great.”

“Yep.” Kagami coughed, “Lucky me.”

She locked herself in her room when she returned home. Her cough had come back with a vengeance and no allergy or cold medicine would relieve it. Her thoughts would not still either. Every time she closed her eyes visions of Marinette from today assaulted her. It felt like she was back in the hot tub choking on the heat and steam. Marinette’s head on her shoulder, Kagami’s hands on her waist, that dazzling smile beaming down at her with gratitude.

So pure. So kind. Like a bundle of pink cotton candy that melted into decadent sugary sweetness on her tongue. Goodness, this girl was turning her into a poet if nothing else. Just saying that she was beautiful and kind and fantastic wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

Another raucous round of coughing wracked her body and tears sprung to her eyes with the intensity of it. When it finally ended she rubbed the tears from her eyes and gazed down at the three little pink cherry blossom petals in her lap. She picked one up and inspected the delicate flower in the waning light of the setting sun. Where on earth did these…

A hand flew to her throat.

Oh...

Oh no.

For the second time that day she grabbed for something to smother the intensity of her screams.

---

(Previous) (Next)

[fieryhonesty]

“Talked with a friend about how bad bus drivers are where I live and how many times I landed on somebody or somebody has landed on me. Somehow felt like to write a short fic about it, ended up being more from real life than I dare to admit. N-no! it’s not like that!”

Words: 2714

Genre: fluff, modern AU, gn!reader

"-and that's it for today. Don't forget to review, the exam will mostly contain questions based on this topic. The results will gradually affect your grades." 

With those words the professor has left the room. It was the last class of the day and obviously he didn't want to waste any minute. Hurrying to his car not to get caught in traffic. 

You were idly sitting at your desk, not even paying attention to others packing their stuff and leaving the classroom. You are slowly the last person in the room. You didn't listen most of the time and had no idea what the professor was talking about. Your mind was drifting everywhere, it's too hard to stay focused on classes. Especially when your mind is overflowing with ideas.

Last night you had talked with one of your friends. You two knew since elementary school and despite choosing different schools and paths you remained in contact. She knew everything about you including the passion for writing. It was just a hobby of yours. You had never planned it to be your career.

 In fact not so many knew about it. People around you knew you were writing something in your notebook. But you are a student, probably writing some notes for school or something. And you always hid your writings when somebody was approaching. Even if they asked what you were doing you just said 'rewriting my school notes, hehe.'

Except that one friend nobody has any idea about your passion. Perhaps it's for the best as you are really shy about it. The thought of other people seeing what you write or how you write is kind of terrifying. Publishing your stories never crossed your mind until your friend got fed up one day. Telling you to just go and publish it. There was no room for negotiations.

Your shyness slowly disappeared, at least when it came to publishing your works online. People didn't know you, your name or who you are. They knew you under a nickname and that's it. You felt safe and happy as you got quickly recognized and fans were leaving supportive comments. 

Writing is your way to express yourself and your emotions. Talking to people face to face is quite harder. You don't have the time to think it through and usually say the first thing which comes to your mind. Sometimes ending up saying some weird stuff which embarrasses you. That's why you rather don't initiate talk or talk really rarely. 

You are most talkative around your best friend and family. Everything else is just giving you anxious feelings. You'd love to start talking with others, especially if they are talking about something you are also interested in. But you are simply not that kind of person who would randomly join in and talk. Sometimes you wish all conversations could happen in written form, that way you would be the star.

You wanted to pull out your notebook and write down some of your thoughts but you realized where you are. Looking around the classroom, it's only you. Sighing for yourself. It will have to wait until you arrive at your apartment. Quickly packing all books into your fancy bag and rushing to your locker. 

You were actually sharing the locker with another person but they are sick at the moment. Their half is clean as ever, books neatly folded, cup and coffee hidden in the back part of the locker. They actually made you into the coffee addicted person you are now. At first you didn't like it but eventually fell in love with the bitter flavor. 

Sometimes you fetch some latté on your way home, thinking of where you would be without caffeine. It's probably one of the best things which happened to you during your university days. So many sleepless nights as you were studying for exams or writing until early morning. 

Changing into your comfy shoes, wrapping a scarf around your neck and dressing into the coat you loved so much. It's so warm and cool looking, makes you feel badass whenever you wear it. One last glance over your stuff in the locker in case you had forgotten about something. All set. Time to catch a bus.

Knowing about you had missed all early buses and will probably get stuck in traffic. Which is fine by you, your earbuds and music is ready. Luckily you didn't have to wait for too long at the bus stop. But it was enough for your cheeks to start freezing. As always you stood at your usual spot. Not feeling like sitting as you do it the whole day at school and home. 

Wrapping one arm around the pole, leaning a bit at it. There's not many people with you on the bus and so you can monopolize the pole and the area around it. You put down your bag as it was quite heavy and your shoulder was starting to hurt. Pulling the phone out of your pocket and browsing news. 

Not really paying attention, just mindlessly scrolling through articles. Sometimes reading the first few sentences before you go back and keep scrolling. 

As expected the bus was moving slowly, the delay was getting worse and worse. Checking the time, you had already spent here over ten minutes. If the bus had moved by a few meters, it's a lot, let's say that. Delays are quite normal at this hour so you don't really sweat it. Looking back to your screen, resuming your news browsing.

After a couple of minutes the bus finally got out of the major traffic and quickly catching up with the delay. As expected the ride was faster than usual, hopefully still within the speed limits. However you won't know this, all you know is the roundabout you will reach soon won't be funny. It's quite a steep one and even if the driver will take it very slowly you will have a hard time balancing yourself.

You are prepared, actually holding tight the pole instead of leaning on it. You have a perfect posture to keep yourself stable. Maybe your grip on the pole is a bit too convulsive. As you feel unpleasant pressure in your wrist. The moment you ease the grip a little, feeling how your feet are sliding. Before you tighten your grip again you fly forward. Trying your best not to crash into the person who was sitting there.

Despite all of your efforts you land on them. You are in shock but more than that you are embarrassed. As you tried to pull back and regain your posture. Feeling hands on your shoulders. Apologies are about to roll out of your lips but they are faster.

"Hey, are you alright?"

Up until now you didn't realize it's a guy you fell on. His long crimson locks tied into a ponytail. At first you thought you had landed on a woman. But his hoarse voice assured you he is anything but a female. You are too close to him for your comfort, his scent already entered your nose. Feeling how heat is rising in your cheeks. This is bad. His crimson eyes were darting around your face, looking for any sign of injury.

'This is embarrassing, say something you idiot!'

"Uh, yea. I... I'm terribly sorry!"

Your voice nearly betrayed you. The last word could be barely heard which made you even more wishing to just be able to vanish. Staring at the male unable to think what to say. Feeling relieved when the bus has stopped as he lets go his hold on you. If you could, you could have dug yourself in a ten meters deep hole and never climb up. 

Quickly murmuring out another apology. Grabbing your bag and jumping out of the bus. It doesn't matter if your stop is still far away. You'd rather walk the rest or wait for another bus than stay in that one.

It was already dark outside when you arrived at your place. Freezing and tired. Trying not to think of what happened earlier but you couldn't get the male's scent out of your nose. It was like he is still next to you, the sweet smell of vanilla. 

You let it be as you tossed the bag into a corner in your room. You are too hungry to think about anything. Making some quick cup noodles and eating them while going through another writing and editing session.

Days were passing by. Always the same: school, ride home and then either study or write. You had forgotten about what happened a few days ago, not even mentioning it to your close friend who had been hanging out with you here and now in chat.

It's Friday and you are feeling like chugging one quick latté. Perhaps you will sit there for a while and write a bit. You sure do like the atmosphere in café shops especially with playing jazz. Sitting in your corner, peeking at other customers here and now. Just to be sure nobody is approaching you. 

You ordered your regular and are waiting for the waitress. In the meantime you pull out your small notebook and read through the latest ideas. You usually write short things there, like drabbles which sometimes turn into much longer stories.

When a cup with your favorite drink landed on the table you looked up and shot a quick smile at the waitress. She answered with the same gesture before checking on other customers.

You fished for a pen in your bag. As soon as the tip of the pen touched the paper, a group of guys entered the shop. You didn't look up to check on them. Why would you anyway? You came here to chill after school, enjoy your drink and possibly write a few lines. Well maybe if you did check, then you would have noticed the redhead from before. 

He was dragged here by his friends as they got this stupid idea to look at girls. Starting here at café and moving to other public places. He didn't want to. He is kind of tired after the long week but that's also the reason why he is here. Too tired to search for excuses. And he knew he would need valid ones especially for his little brother whose idea was all of this.

As he sat with them, quite unbothered by their talk about the waitress who just took their order. Pulling out his phone to finish reading something he started during lunch break. He agreed to tag along not join into their jewelry observations as they call it. They could be talking about anything and he wouldn't pay mind to it. 

Only to be brought back to reality when Childe snatched his phone away. Grinning at him.

"C'mon Diluc, your social media can wait. Cute girls won't~"

The scarlet haired male rolled eyes at the ginger.

"For your information, reading stories is not the same as browsing twitter."

"Oh? What I am hearing? I didn't know my big bro is into reading inappropriate stories."

Diluc shot a glare at the bluenette. Reconsidering if it's worth his time to argue about it. If anyone is reading smuts here, it's Kaeya. Why is he hanging out with his brother again? 

Childe waved with his phone in front of his face in a very taunting manner. But didn't evade when Diluc reached for it, sliding it back into his coat. Looking around the café and then he noticed you. He was not sure if it's really you, the person who fell on him on the bus a few days ago. But when you looked up to take a sip of your latté he saw your face.

Something inside of him felt like to get up and go talk to you. But he can't. Or? Can he talk to you? A total stranger whom he met only once and under strange circumstances? For some reason he really wanted to greet you at least. He resisted the urge for long enough, at least until Kaeya didn't notice where he was looking and said something about it. 

Grabbing his cup and slowly approaching you. He didn't know what he was doing or why he was doing it. When he was close enough to your table, clearing his throat, asking if he could join you.

Your eyes shoot up to the not so familiar voice. Widening when you realized it's the same guy from back then. Feeling like your stomach was being squished. Just when you had forgotten about that embarrassing moment. 

All what you managed was a nod, observing how he sat at the chair opposite of you. Nervously smiling at him. What should you say? This is awkward. 

"Um-" 

You both started in unison, exchanging embarrassed looks. You motioned to him to start.

"Hi, uh. Hope I'm not disturbing?"

"No... not at all." 

You put your hand over the notebook instinctively. It's a habit of yours, hiding it from anyone's eyes.

"I'm Diluc and you are-"

"That person who landed on you on the bus, yes that’s me." 

You deadpanned. Can't help it but smile a little, finding it funny. The guy who you fell at, the one who should be mad at you. He is trying to talk to you and what's better he also seems to be nervous while talking. Feeling a bit relieved as it probably won't be only you embarrassing themselves.

He chuckled a little at your words. Kind of wishing to know you more than just a person who fell on him. When you tried to apologize once again he stopped you, saying it's fine. To change the topic he asked for your name and where were you going back then. 

When he found out you are also an university student he felt relieved a bit and more at ease. You had something in common, something you both could relate to. As the talk between you warmed up enough, when the first uneasiness faded. You talked about your hobbies, of course you didn't want to tell him about your big passion and said you are reading.

Which wasn't that much far from reality but unlike him you didn't read from known authors or big titles. In fact most of your reading were stories from other passionate writers, mixed with random novels here and now. 

"Oh, I also happen to read stories posted on the web. Some people are really talented."

He admits and flashes you something that one could describe as a slight smile? But really quick so your brain barely registers it. 

"Hey um, I know this will be strange. But I kind of enjoy our talk, it's much more..." He trailed off as he was thinking how to put  it without saying anything bad about his companions. Who are probably scheming or coming up with various ideas how to use this against him. 

"What I mean is, you act like a person in your age unlike my brother."

You tried not to laugh too much. Giggles escaping your lips. Truth to be told you were also enjoying this little talk between the two of you. This was probably the very first conversation you had with a stranger. And they didn't seem to mind your awkwardness. 

It feels like you two understand each other. Both are interested in literature, have to deal with school troubles and have something unique to each of you.

Looking up into his ruby eyes. "Yeah. I'm enjoying this too. Why didn't I fall on you earlier?!"

Both of you laughed at that remark. 

"If you don't mind, we could do this more often?"

"You mean me falling on you on the bus or drinking coffee?" 

"The latter. If I see you on the same bus I'll make sure you sit."

You two had talked more after this. Way longer than both of you expected. When Diluc checked the table where his companions were sitting before he noticed they are gone. He didn't think of checking his phone. But once he does he will find a message from his brother.

「'Seems like you had found somebody to spent night with, don't worry about your lil bro and enjoy~ 😘 '」

[missjanjie]

Taste of a Poison Paradise | Chapter 5

Title: Taste of a Poison Paradise Summary: Life at Jackie Cox’s strip club, Poison Paradise, isn’t just lapdances and g-strings. There’s enough drama, lust, and heartache to rival any soap opera. None of the girls know what to expect on any given shift, especially while navigating their torrid, complicated relationships. Word Count: ~2.9k (this chapter) / ~15.1k (total) Relationship(s): Lemyanka (Lemon/Priyanka), Crygi (Crystal Methyd/Gigi Goode), Sportsdoll (Jan Sport/Nicky Doll), Jaidie (Jaida Essence Hall/Jackie Cox), Branjie (Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo), Kamjie (Kameron Michaels/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo), Rosnali (Rosé/Denali Foxx) Rating: E

Read on AO3 | Ko-Fi

Chapter Summary: Lemon and Priyanka's relationship is more of a rollercoaster than ever and Rosé figures out the truth about Denali

-

“Are you still giving me the cold shoulder?” Priyanka asked, a mix of frustration and exhaustion in her voice. There was also an underlying hint of anxiety, but that was something she could address later, as much later as possible.

Lemon turned to look at her with a deadpan expression. She didn’t utter a word, instead, she blinked and looked back at her phone, scrolling in tension-filled silence.

The taller woman sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Lem, I told you I haven’t been avoiding you. Mark’s project got delayed so he’s home all the time. He was gonna start getting suspicious if I kept spending the night with you.”

“He keeping you occupied with that mediocre dick?” The cold harshness in her voice was, at least to Priyanka, even worse than the silence.

“Lem, don’t do this,” she pleaded softly. “You know I’d much rather be giving you my fake dick than taking his real one. But it’s just gonna be a little difficult for us to have our usual rendezvous until his project starts back up,” she explained, then quietly strummed her fingers against the bar. “I’ll make up an excuse and come over tonight… if you still want me to, I mean.”

Despite her best efforts, Lemon cracked a slight smile. “Yeah, I still do. I’m not gonna punish my pussy just because I’m still pissed at you.”

Priyanka put her arms up in surrender. “Hey, I’ll take what I can get.”

Lemon swallowed a laugh as she hopped down from the barstool. “I’ll be back after my shift, there better not be any sudden plan changes,” she warned before going upstairs to spend the time before her shift in the common room.

“You seem to be in better spirits,” Jan observed as she noticed Lemon come in. She sat down on the couch with the mug of coffee she’d just poured. “I take it Pri was finally able to pencil you in for a booty call?”

“Ugh, don’t say it like that, it makes me sound desperate,” she rolled her eyes. “Her stupid, ugly, smelly boyfriend is still around.

Jan quirked her brow. “Have you ever been in the same room as him?”

“No, but I don’t need to be to know I’m right.”

“You know I worry that you two are gonna end up in over your heads if you aren’t already,” she warned in a calm, gentle tone. She’d had a front-row seat to a fair amount of Lemon and Priyanka’s intimate trysts being Lemon’s roommate and from day one, she’d had the sinking feeling things would end badly. But there was only so much arguing one could do with someone like Lemon.

And unsurprisingly, Lemon scoffed. “Look, I know what we’ve been doing is amoral, but when you think about it, it’s not even our fault. It’s society’s fault for making Pri feel like she has some guy when I’m literally right here.”

“So you do wanna date her?”

Her face reddened, which she tried to offset by rolling her eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

------

Denali fixed herself up in the quick-change dressing room. It was her last main stage dance for the night and she had just enough momentum built up to go out with a bang. She looked up when she saw Gigi walk in via the reflection in the mirror. “What’s with the smug grin?”

“I think you have a special visitor in the audience.” When they noticed the confusion in the dancer’s expression, Gigi followed up with, “Rosé asked me if you were up next and sat herself front and center when I said that you were.”

“Oh!” her voice went up in pitch and volume. She cleared her throat and instead focused on fixing her platinum blonde wig. “I mean… oh, cool. I’m sure she’ll enjoy the show.”

Gigi tilted their head to the side. “Is that how I sounded all this time? Fuck,” they shook their head. “Oh, by the way, I’ve decided to go by they/them off the clock, I’ve been letting the rest of the girls know too. It's like, I've been feeling like I’m just dressing up like a girl on stage, you know how it is.”

Denali nodded as she got up. “Whatever makes you feel the most yourself, babe,” she told her with a smile, then took a deep breath as she sauntered onto the stage to the slow, seductive beat of the music. She focused on maintaining the confidence she always brought to her performances and not letting the fact that Rosé was right in her field of vision throw her off.

Rosé watched intently, and while her gaze tended to linger on Denali’s body, she would look up at her face often enough for something to click. She finally realized she recognized the dancer from her work as a cam girl. The realization made her blush but didn’t deter her in the slightest.

After Denali had finished her number, she beckoned Rosé over. She leaned down and whispered, “go upstairs, I’ll meet you there in five,” before backing off to collect her tips as if nothing had happened.

Naturally, Rosé made her way upstairs as quickly as her legs would take her and waited eagerly for Denali to join her. “You know,” she started when she saw her, “I figured out where I know you from.”

“You got me,” she replied and slowly pulled off her wig and wig cap in one go, so her black hair cascaded down her back. “I’m Hannah Montana.”

Rosé blinked, then snorted with laughter. “You’re so fucking stupid,” her tone was fond as she shook her head. “I guess it makes sense. Taking this on as a second job.”

“I’m a people person, being in front of a camera just doesn’t do it for me. Money’s decent, but still. I’ve been considering bringing that stage name over here.”

“Oh you’re not gonna make poor Heidi try and announce ‘Aurora Borealis,” she playfully chastised. Then there was a beat of silence. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked. “Did you think I’d have a problem with it or something?”

“No,” she shrugged. “It was more fun making you work for it.”

She cocked her brow. “Oh, you’re a little brat, aren’t you?”

“I feel like there’s not much use in trying to argue that, so.” Denali leaned against the wall, looking up at Rosé and fluttering her lashes with coy flirtation. “You gonna do something about it or not?”

Rosé tilted her head and bit her lip, moving closer to Denali until she had both arms bracketing her against the wall. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Was that your endgame the whole time? Give me this whole run around until I was frustrated enough to fuck you as hard as your bratty ass wants?”

“I mean… yes, obviously.”

“Not in the common room, we eat and cry in here.” Jan’s voice pulled Rosé and Denali from their moment, but she shrugged when they glared at her. “What? Just fuck in the spa room like the rest of us,” she told them as she grabbed a cup o’ noodles from one of the drawers that Jackie kept stocked for the girls, and left a couple of dollars from her bra in its place.

Rosé rolled her eyes. “Bitch, I will fuck her in front of you, don’t test me.”

Jan scoffed as she started eating her noodles. “Do it, I dare you.”

“I am begging you not to,” another voice chimed in, the three women turned to see Lemon come up the stairs. While of course, she had no issue with hooking up in various parts of the building, Rosé is her cousin and that was simply a line she refused to cross. She did not care how badly Rosé wanted to fuck Denali – and yes, she knew.

“I cannot believe you’re cockblocking me right now,” she huffed, glancing back at Denali and mouthing ‘sorry’.

But Denali was unphased by the entire exchange. “Girl, just take me home. I’m still gonna put out.”

“Oh,” Rosé blinked, “alright then.”

------

Even though it had barely been a week since Lemon and Priyanka had last hooked up, it felt like ages for them. The second they were inside Lemon’s apartment, clothes were coming off and being tossed any which way as they stumbled into the bedroom, naked by the time their bodies hit the bed.

Priyanka rifled through Lemon’s closet until she came back with the strap-on, fastening it around her waist. She smirked when she turned around and realized Lemon was waiting for her on all fours. “Damn, I should hold out on you more often,” she teased.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Lemon hissed as if there was the slightest chance Priyanka would pass up time with her if given the option.

She chuckled as she positioned herself behind her. “There’s my bratty little Lem,” she cooed, holding her waist with one hand while the other guided the length of the silicone toy into her. She waited for a beat after she bottomed out, making sure Lemon was comfortable before she began thrusting steadily.

Lemon started moaning out the second it started. Her hands fisted into the comforter on her bed, her head hanging forward. Whenever she wanted more or wanted it harder, she would push her hips against Priyanka to urge her on.

And Priyanka knew what each movement meant. “You’re so fucking needy, aren’t you? So desperate to get pounded out,” she grunted. Her hand moved from Lemon’s waist to grab her hair, pulling it back while her free hand moved between her legs, rubbing her clit in time with her thrusts.

“Fuck, baby, just like that, please,” it was only when Lemon was in the heat of the moment, and close to an orgasm, that she would use words like ‘baby’ or ‘please’ unless she was trying to get her way with something. But luckily for her, Priyanka obliged without comment, and she let out a sharp, pleasured cry as she came moments later.

“That’s my good girl,” Priyanka praised, pressing a kiss to her shoulder as she eased out of her, cleaning up and putting the dildo and harness away, then got under the covers. “Come, you owe me cuddles.”

Lemon ducked her head away to hide how big her smile was, then cuddled up to Priyanka, resting her head on her chest. “Not to be like, corny or whatever, but I missed you,” she mumbled, hiding her face in the crook of her neck, lest she accidentally make eye contact.

Priyanka grinned, shaking her head. “I missed you too, weirdo,” she said and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She gazed down at her, feeling warmth and affection for a fleeting moment, before angst and melancholy built up from the pit of her stomach, coming out in a sad sigh.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I…” she chewed on her lip and looked away. “Yeah, it’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

------

Rosé hummed to herself as she got into the shower, letting the hot water wake her up from the deep sleep the night before. And perhaps she needed it more than she realized, as she was startled when she suddenly noticed she was no longer alone. “I thought you were still asleep.”

Denali shrugged. “I was. But then I woke up and you weren’t there, and I got bored.”

She chuckled softly, wrapping her arms around the smaller woman’s waist. “Well, good morning, then,” she pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You sleep alright?”

“More than alright. Pretty sure I passed out somewhere after the fourth orgasm,” she chuckled softly, trailing light kisses along her jaw.

Rosé smirked. “No wonder you’re so clingy, they always wanna stick around after they get fucked well,” she teased, her hands moving from Denali’s back to squeeze her ass. “That why you’re in here? Woke up craving more?”

“God, you’re so fucking cocky,” Denali huffed, though she had no honest way of denying that. “But… yeah, very much so.”

“That’s what I thought,” she chuckled before sinking to her knees and nudging Denali’s thighs apart. She gripped each of her thighs, keeping them far enough apart for her to trace her tongue along her folds, then swirled it around her clit.

Denali gasped out softly, resting her head against the wall. “Fuck…” she exhaled, her eyes fluttering shut, moaning at the sensation of Rosé’s tongue on her clit and her fingers easing their way into her.

Rosé continued to lick and suck on her clit as she steadily curled and thrust two fingers into Denali, her free hand moving to her waist, gripping it to keep her steady and hold her in place.

She whimpered and moaned, dragging her fingers through Rosé’s wet hair, her hips starting to rock despite her grip. It wasn’t long after that that she felt a familiar tightness building in her stomach. “Fuck, Rosie, I’m close,” she warned, and not a minute after that, her body arched forward as she came.

Once she was certain Denali was done, Rosé eased out of her and stood back upright, pressing a kiss to her lips. “Now, do you mind if I actually take a shower? I have to get ready for work.”

“Okay, okay,” Denali put her hands up in surrender as she stepped out of the shower. “You think your roommate heard us last night? Or just now?”

Rosé shrugged as she washed her hair. “Probably not, Mik sleeps like a rock. The bitch would sleep through a nuclear holocaust.”

“Fair enough, not that I mind an audience, after all,” she hummed. “Well, I’ll get out of your hair,” she laughed at her own joke then kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you around.” She dried off and redressed before leaving for her apartment. Everything had gone well so far, she thought, the sex was fantastic and they didn’t need to complicate it with anything else.

------

Lemon had just finished her set when she noticed something out of the ordinary. After grabbing her robe from the quick-change room, she made her way over to the bar. “What’re you doing back there, Jaida? Is Jackie cross-training the strippers now?”

“I bartended in college,” Jaida explained. “Pri couldn’t come in, said she had an important dinner to go to, and based on how it sounded, I think it’s with her boyfriend.”

“Gross,” Lemon muttered. “Gimme a melon ball and a lemon drop.”

Jaida arched her brow but made the shots for her nonetheless. “You a little cranky without your girlfriend here, huh?”

“She’s not my girlfriend!” she huffed, downing the shots one after the other. “And I don’t care who the fuck she has dinner with. I’m just annoyed because she was supposed to give me a ride home. Since, you know, Jan spends more time at Nicky’s than anywhere else.”

“I’ll give you a ride,” she offered with a shrug. “Something tells me you’re not gonna wanna be alone tonight.”

Lemon smiled weakly. “Thanks, I appreciate it.” She was quiet for a few beats with her downcast gaze on the bar, until she finally looked back up at Jaida and asked, “can I get another lemon drop?”

And, as it turned out, Lemon would need the adult supervision. Once her shift ended, she had gotten much more drunk and needed to be hauled into her apartment and tucked into bed, where she passed out almost instantly.

Jaida had stayed awake and watched Lemon for a little while, feeling almost a maternal instinct when it came to Lemon. But eventually, she retired to Jan’s room for the night, figuring she wouldn’t mind, given the circumstances, and slept through the night. She woke up the next morning to a knock on the door and pushed herself out of bed. “Oh, hey Pri, how was your dinner?”

Priyanka furrowed her brows. “Why are you in Lemon’s apartment?” she asked, her stomach tightening in a knot as she followed up with, “did you guys hook up?”

“Nah, she was too wasted to even try,” she shook her head as she ushered her inside, the two of them sitting down on the couch. “What’s going on? You look like you saw a ghost or something.”

Priyanka exhaled deeply. “No, um… actually, I’m kinda glad I can practice on someone else, because I’m terrified of telling Lemon,” she looked down, fumbling with the hem of her shirt, shifting uncomfortably, unable to find a satisfactory way to sit and instead just slumped forward and sighed. “Mark proposed. And I panicked and said yes.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a ring, morosely sliding it onto her finger.

“Oh shit,” Jaida blinked in surprise, her eyes widening when she saw the ring. She pressed her lips into a fine line. “Listen, this might not be the ‘right’ advice, but I don’t think you should tell Lemon yet. You can say whatever you want about whatever your relationship is, but it don’t take a rocket scientist to know it’s more than just sex. She’s not gonna take it well, you need to really think this out.”

She swallowed thickly and nodded, taking the ring off and putting it back in her pocket, then scratched at her hands as if she were fighting the urge to wash them. “You’re right,” she nodded, eyes focused squarely on the floor. “I can’t tell her yet.”

But she didn’t need to, as Lemon had been silently listening from her room, peering through the cracked open door. She shut it quickly but quietly, deciding to go right back to bed. It was too early for her heart to break.

[keichanz]

Neighbors | ch. 3

AO3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

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Inuyasha walked into his apartment a lot later than what he’d originally planned and he hoped Kagome wouldn’t be too upset that he���d left her alone for nearly four hours. To make it up to her, he’d bought them both some lunch at his favorite ramen shop and swung by a Starbucks to get one of those frothy, sweet drinks that women tend to favor.

Kicking the door shut, he set the diabetes in a cup, their lunch, and a white paper bag onto the counter before shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the back of the door. He glanced toward the couch and his eyebrows rose at the sight that greeted him. Despite himself, the felt the corner of his lips flicker with the beginnings of an amused grin and unbeknownst to him, his eyes softened with fond admiration.

Ponytail askew on her head and one half of her face red, Kagome blinked blearily at him for a moment before a wide yawn escaped her mouth. She stretched, raising her arms above her head as she arched her back and it was obvious she’d just woken up from a nap.

God, but she looked cute and Inuyasha’s gut tightened with the beginnings of…something he wasn’t yet ready to acknowledge. So he didn’t and shook his head, turning to grab their lunch and the paper bag before striding over to her.

“Hi,” Kagome greeted, her voice pleasantly raspy as she rubbed her eyes.

“Nice nap?” he asked and swapped out the empty dishes on the coffee table for their lunch and her drink.

“Mm.” Kagome settled back against the armrest and stretched out her legs, wincing slightly when her angle twinged. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Inuyasha frowned, eyed her ankle, then left to dump the dirty dishes into the sink to worry about later. He grabbed a soda for himself and came back to find Kagome had taken possession of the Starbucks monstrosity with an impish grin and he snorted, rolling his eyes.

“It’s yours,” he supplied, a little needlessly as she’d already started sipping from the straw. “Sorry I was gone for so long. Had to stop by work and got caught up there before making a few more stops. Figured I’d make up for it with lunch and that diabetes in a cup.”

“Tasty diabetes in a cup,” Kagome cheerfully corrected as Inuyasha nudged her legs, a silent hint to let him sit. She wrinkled her nose but obliged, slowly swinging her legs down so he could plop down beside her with a grunt. She wasn’t expecting him to lean back and then gesture for her stretch them out again and with a happy grin Kagome did, propping her feet onto his lap. It was amazing how comfortable she already felt around him given that she’d only known him a short time.

She wasn’t about to question it though; she’d left behind her old life, her old friends, and having Inuyasha as a friend? Well, she definitely wasn’t about to complain. Thankfully he didn’t seem to be too bothered by it either, calm as you please as he handed her some chopsticks and ramen before digging into his own with relish. Granted, he probably just wanted to make sure her ankle was being elevated, but still…

It was nice, knowing that she wasn’t alone.

With a secret smile, Kagome dug in, hiding her red face behind her takeout ramen as she quietly slurped her noodles. She could get used to this.

I could get used to this, Inuyasha mused, casting a sidelong glance at the woman at his side.

Maybe he was being a bit too forward and nonchalant given that they’d just officially met the night before, but thankfully – and a little surprisingly – Kagome didn’t seem to mind. She was acting like they’d been friends for years, and if Inuyasha were being honest, it felt like he had known her for just as long. He couldn’t explain it, and in fact didn’t even want to, but there was something about this woman that just…put him at ease.

It was like she exuded a quiet peacefulness that soothed him in such a way that, with no effort at all, she was able to sneak past his defenses and catch glimpses of the real him. The one that didn’t hide behind a tough façade, the one that didn’t use biting insults and crude comments to disguise his true emotions.

Somehow this little slip of a woman with dark eyes, a fear of needles, and an infectious smile had managed to accomplish a feat that no one but his mother had been able to do in the entire thirty-two years he’d been alive. Even more astonishing, she’d done it in just a little over fifteen hours, and that should have had alarm bells ringing. That should make him want to back off, to put some space between them so he could breathe properly without her intoxicating scent wreaking havoc on his mind and clouding his judgement.

Curiously, however – or maybe a more accurate term would be frighteningly – as Kagome turned her head and caught him staring sat her, he realized that he wanted to do the complete opposite. Her soft blush made him want to say things to see if he could make her blush harder. Her bemused smile as she tilted her head had his fingers twitching with the urge to tangle in her hair and taste that smile, steal it for his own.

And the way his name sounded rolling off her tongue, the gentle lilt to the single word hinting at curious concern, made him want to drop to his knees and swear his fealty, his protection, his very soul if it meant she would always look at him like that.

Ah…fuck, Inuyasha inwardly lamented as Kagome took advantage of his distraction to reach over and snag a shrimp from his ramen takeout container.

“Earth to Inuyashaaaa.” Kagome waved her chopsticks in front of his face, stolen piece of shrimp sandwiched between the ends. “You in there? Are you—hey!”

Releasing Kagome’s wrist, Inuyasha chewed the shrimp that he’d just stolen right back from her chopsticks. She pouted at him and he snorted, unaffected.

“Wave food in my face and suffer the consequences.”

“No fair, yours has more shrimp than mine!”

“Not my problem.”

Kagome pouted again, fluttering her lashes for extra effect. It was embarrassing how quick Inuyasha gave in after that.

“Manipulative wench,” Inuyasha muttered but his glare lacked any real censure.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kagome chirped and then sighed in bliss as she popped another (pilfered) shrimp into her mouth.

“My ass.”

Kagome stuck her tongue out at him and gave a cheeky grin. Shaking his head, Inuyasha sighed then carefully removed her legs from his lap, frowning when Kagome hissed as he set them back on the couch.

“How’s your hand, by the way?” he asked and went to retrieve the paper bag still sitting on the counter.

“Hurts,” Kagome answered honestly, shrugging, and flexed the hand in question. “Right now it’s doing kind of a…burning throb? But it’s tolerable so I should be good until I can get those prescriptions—what’s this?”

Blinking down at the white paper bag Inuyasha had just wordlessly dropped into her lap, Kagome set aside her lunch and peered inside. Her mouth parted on a soft gasp and her eyes widened as a soft, pleased flush stole across her cheeks. She looked up as Inuyasha sat onto the coffee table before her and gingerly took her bandaged hand into his own to inspect it himself.

“You picked up my medicine for me?” Kagome asked, her soft tone reflecting her awe and her eyes bright with barely concealed pleasure.

“I’ll change this tomorrow,” he said, deliberately ignoring her question because who else could have gotten her meds. “Doc said to leave it on for at least twenty-four hours before changing it and you’ll probably be asleep by the time I get home tonight.”

Inuyasha got up to throw away their empty takeout boxes but then paused, his brow knitting as a thought occurred to him.

“You work tomorrow?”

Narrowing her eyes at him to silently telegraph that his evading her question did not go unnoticed, Kagome sighed when he merely raised his brows at her and shook her head.

“No,” she replied. “I mean, yes I work, but I work from home and I have the rest of the week off to finish unpacking and get settled.”

Inuyasha nodded, appeased. Good, now he wouldn’t be distracted worrying about her at work tomorrow since he had a morning shift. He could just imagine her doing something foolish and breaking her damn ankle instead of merely spraining it.

Checking the time on his phone while Kagome idly sipped her Starbucks and openly stared at him, Inuyasha reluctantly decided that he needed to stop procrastinating and leave for the shop soon. Miroku was only working half a day today and he didn’t trust the runt to be there by himself since the old man wasn’t in today, either.

Grumbling under his breath, Inuyasha crossed the room to shrug into his jacket and jam his ball cap back onto his head before grabbing his keys. Kagome, gathering that he was getting ready to leave for work, set down her drink – she was sucking up nothing but whipped cream now anyway – and pushed to her feet, favoring her ankle. Before she could take a single step, however, Inuyasha was there and he lifted her up into his arms with no warning.

At her blushingly surprised look, Inuyasha rolled his eyes and remarked, “You didn’t actually think I was gonna make you walk up those stairs, did you?”

Her sheepish smile was answer enough. Inuyasha snorted quietly before leaving his apartment with her in his arms, her bag of meds resting on her stomach.

“I could have scooted again,” Kagome murmured, slightly indignant, but Inuyasha merely snorted again and started up the stairs. “What? It’s a perfectly acceptable mode of transportation.”

“Yeah, for toddlers and—”

“Don’t you dare say it.”

Inuyasha smirked but remained silent. He got a swat to the chest for his troubles anyway and had to swallow the snicker that welled up.

He had Kagome open the door for him when he reached the second floor, carrying her into the living room and setting her on the giant L-shaped sectional couch. There was no way in hell she carried that up here by herself so it must have been left over from the previous tenant. He briefly left her to retrieve the crutches he’d bought and came back to prop them against the couch, conveniently ignoring her jaw-dropped expression.

“Where the hell—”

“Use ‘em,” he said, cutting her off. “And stay off your feet. Understood?”

She blinked. “But—”

Inuyasha crossed his arms with a no-nonsense glare and Kagome huffed, wrinkling her nose.

“Yes, Mom,” she muttered, folding her own arms across her chest and looking every bit the petulant child as she sunk back against the cushions.

His lips twitched at how cute she looked pouting like that.

“You want it to heal or don’t you?” he asked, arching a brow, and he took Kagome’s defeated sigh as his answer. “Two weeks. You’ll live, I promise.”

“Says you,” Kagome murmured, making a face, and Inuyasha had grin that time.

“Take your meds,” he said, nodding to the paper bag beside her. He hesitated a little before adding on, “Text me if anything happens. I’ll do my best to swing by.”

Kagome’s face positively lit up and she smiled at him. “Really? You’ll leave work just to check on me?”

His face grew warm and he mentally cursed.

“Obviously. You’re like a child. Can’t leave you unsupervised for long or you’ll burn the house down.”

Kagome’s smile abruptly vanished and she scowled at him.

“Jerk. Get out of my apartment. Shoo.”

Bestowing upon her a very fangy smirk, Inuyasha’s amber eyes glinted with mischievous delight as he fired off a two-fingered salute, spun on his heal, and headed for the front door. Before he disappeared out of sight, however, he stopped, half-turned, and pinned her with a hard stare.

“And for the love of god, woman, lock your fucking door, will ya?”

That said, he ducked out of view. Seconds later Kagome heard the sound of her apartment door closing with a soft click and then heavy footsteps descending the stairs.

“‘Lock your fucking door,’” Kagome mocked him under her breath but nevertheless got up to do as he bade.

She adjusted the crutches to a desirable height and awkwardly shuffled her way into the kitchen. It had been years since the last time she’d used these things – if she recalled correctly, when she’d dislocated her knee in middle school – and it would take some time getting used to them again. She also remembered they were torture on the pits, so she made a mental note to grab some rubber bands and dish towels for extra cushion.

Kagome had to admit, however, that as much as she despised the things, she was also eternally grateful that Inuyasha had actually taken the time to buy her some. Her expression softened as she hobbled over to the counter where her phone still sat. Part of her still couldn’t believe he’d actually purchased a pair of crutches or her on top of retrieving her medicine as well, and abruptly all irritation toward the half-demon vanished. Would she ever stop being grateful for that man?

Sighing, Kagome leaned against the counter and allowed a fond smile to curl her lips upward as she swiped her finger across the dark screen. Nothing happened, and she wrinkled her nose. It must have died while she was downstairs. Ah, well. Her only charger was in her bedroom at the moment so she’d just plug it in and check it later.

She tucked the device into her bra since her leggings didn’t have pockets, slowly limped her way to her bedroom, and plugged it into charge before retreating to the kitchen. She deliberated for a moment on how to do this without falling or dropping everything and she ended up shoving the very cold soda can into her bra – yelping as the chilled aluminum made contact with her skin – and carrying a bag of chips in her mouth as she gimped back into the living room.

Hey, if she was being banished to her couch all day because of a bum ankle, she needed snacks, dammit.

Then, reclining back into the couch and kicking up the footrest, Kagome settled in for a relaxing day of Netflix and a whole lot of nothing else.

Oh joy.

When Inuyasha walked through the apartment house’s front door a little after 10 pm, instead of going straight to his door he turned and climbed the stairs instead. He hadn’t received any texts from her, SOS related or otherwise, and the one he’d sent her to check in had gone unanswered so he was just a little on edge as he stalked to her front door. He realized her phone might be on vibrate or something and she hadn’t heard it, or was in another room, or countless other possibilities, but still, he’d feel better knowing she was alright and knew he wouldn’t be able to get to sleep without making sure.

He turned the knob and a colorful string of curses left his mouth. Unlocked. Because of course.

“Goddammit, woman,” he hissed and opened the door, peeking inside. It was dark, save for the glow of the television from the other room. Heaving a sigh, he walked in and headed toward the living room, unsurprised to find her sprawled out on the couch, fast asleep.

He shook his head, crossing the room and kneeling by the couch where she slept. Her mouth was open as little snores escaped past her lips and a trail of drool was leaking from the corner of her mouth. Inuyasha snorted quietly but had to grin, unthinkingly reaching forward to gently wipe it away with his thumb.

Kagome stirred and emitted a soft sigh. His ears flicked at the sound and he watched as blearily brown eyes cracked open just a smidge, blinking rapidly.

“N’yasha?” she breathed and sighed, eyes falling closed once again.

His heart clenched and he swallowed hard. Instead of answering, he wordlessly slipped his hands beneath her and lifted her up into his arms. Kagome curled against him and his stomach did that swooping sensation again as he headed down the hallway to put her to bed.

“Wench,” he murmured, carefully depositing her onto her bed and covering her with a blanket. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth. You know that?”

Kagome murmured something unintelligible in her sleep and then stilled, her breaths even and deep. Watching her, Inuyasha had the random thought that her eyelashes were thick and dark resting against the gentle swell of her cheeks. His eyes dropped to her mouth and he recalled how earlier, right before he’d left to run errands, the urge to kiss her had slammed into him so hard he’d had to walk away before he gave in and kissed her senseless.

Now the urge was back and Inuyasha growled to himself, shaking his head. Goddammit, what was wrong with him? He’d never been affected by a woman this much before, let alone one he barely even knew. True, he felt comfortable with her more than anyone he’d ever met, could easily admit that he was attracted to her physically, but none of that explained any of the other, more instinctive urges that were sweeping over him. Like protect her, provide for her, take care of her on a level that was way more than just platonic.

Staring down at her now as she slept, Inuyasha was hit with a strong sense of déjà vu and he barely refrained from groaning aloud as he dragged a hand down his face. Were all his nights with her living above him going to end like this?

Kagome grunted, made a soft noise in the back of her throat, and then emitted a loud, unattractive snore as she flopped onto her back.

Inuyasha covered his mouth to muffle his rumbling laugh, abruptly deciding that…yeah.

He could definitely live with that.

“Goodnight, Kagome,” he whispered and brushed some hair away from her face before quietly leaving her bedroom. He turned off her TV and made sure her door was locked before closing it behind him, wondering at the mild ache he felt in his chest as he descended the stairs to get some shuteye in his own apartment. 

[mythykl]

UNSPOKEN,, *todoroki x (f) reader

Genre : fanfic, smut *aged up* (shoto is imagined to be 21yo or something,, and reader as 19yo)

rating : explicit, NSFW, 17+

Warning : fingering, oral?? todo is pretty horny overall. starts w a pretty intense bg story, so you gotta read through all that to get to the good stuff. cool.

words?? idk, it’s pretty lengthy tho.

our todoboi is a pretty lovin’ bf in here.

————————-

“I’m really sorry for yesterday, Y/N. I-I did’n-”

You clench your fists as you sit on the couch beside him, and interrupt, “Whatever it is- save it, I don’t blame you to begin with. I-I’m just mad. I’d spent almost a week for that chapter, to give justice and bring perfection in what I wanted to put across to the readers. Well- its not even about the time; I had thought through it so much, and atlas thought of typing it out yesterday- I mean- whatever crap that I had even written, I was proud of that- until,, your ignorant ass decided to show up in the room and fuckin’ switched off the computer assuming it’s already logged off, o-or whatever. You could’ve at-at least- fuck-” yup ya ass is livin’ in the worst nightmare of a writer, stay steady

You of course cried, and even threw a tantrum for an hour or so once you realized what had happened. But primarily, you were just mad- mad at yourself for not saving that damn file, and even at him cuz ofc. 

Todoroki certainly didn’t take it well, since he is sad at present, and can’t even look in your eyes. He apologized multiple times since last night and had even prepared a breakfast for you before leaving for work; on the other hand, you haven’t even answered to his appeals yet with clarity.

Out of the blue you just cup his cheeks, making him instantly look up- at you, and then get up with an audible sigh, “Go get ready, I’ll prepare our dinner by then.” That gesture somehow took him aback. 

He gets up instantly and blurts out in confusion, “I d-didn’t expect you to prepare a dinner for me, and on top of it- wait for me so we can have it together. You should’ve ate already, it’s almost midnight.”

You turn back to him, walking towards him to hold his hands, "I honestly don’t know what to reply. My heart- just thought it is the right thing to do that; one mistake isn’t enough to just hate you all of a sudden, Shoto. Moreover we are talking about this, it’s not like you’re being arrogant or things are left unsaid- and you’re genuinely sorry. I can see that in your eyes. I’m just- I don’t know. I’m depressed a bit- yes, but it can’t be helped now. I need some time to think, maybe.” 

Little did you know that your kind words pricked him like thousands of tiny needles against his skin. He loves you, and however seemingly ‘small’ mistake this might be, he hates himself for hurting you- the person he loves so dearly. He thinks of his mother, his complicated family life- which had made him seemingly unemotional. You were one of the people to break through that forged cold wall. He had finally accepted you as his reality than his mere escapism and live with you, but here he is- bringing tears and fueling anger in you, like a good for nothing- just like his father.

After a slight pause, he just busts his arms open and pull you close to him, in his warm embrace, “What did I possibly do to deserve such an angel?” He almost whispers in his beautiful voice.

An angel? 

“So talented, pretty, wonderful, real and warm. Remember. I love you. No matter what. I always will. And I respect you- your passion, interests, talent, likes and dislikes, freedom, strengths-weakness, your work, happiness- everything. Throw all the tantrums you want and cry all you want- more than just agreeing and being there for you- I’ll always make sure I understand you first. I’m sorry for being so ignorant lately.”

It may seem as if he’s crying, but he’s not. He said all that with a tough stance and gratefulness in his tone, a faint disbelief of having you as his significant other. While you just stood there, in surprise. You aren’t oblivious to his past and his journey through it. Is he blaming himself? or Is he again thinking that he doesn’t deserve happiness?- you’re at the loss of words and a mind fumbling all over the place. You simply subside the chaos, and hug him back. 

“We’re definitely working, Todoroki. Understanding each other more than just being in love- something that many fail to do. Isn’t this great?” You at last blurt out.

“Yes. I guess,” he says as he detaches himself from you, “I’ll be right back- until then, read what I’ll send you as you have dinner. Gonna sound stupid of me- but I already had dinner at office. I assumed that you’d not prepare a meal for me and- would be asleep by now as well.”

“Wow icyhot, I’m mad at you even more now,” you say playfully as you walk towards the kitchen.

“I-”

“Save it. You would be saying that for the millionth time now,” you chuckle as you grab your phone, lying on the dinner table.

Before serving your food, you decide to see the text, only to find an attachment with a rather strange message- ‘Hey, here’s an headcanon for chapter 37, that I wrote. Enjoy.’

Wait-

Headcanon??

Wait did he- read your wattpad book? And moreover, came up with a theory to what might happen in the ne- next chapter.

Nice. jk. Ofc you lost your shit

For the sake of getting back to senses, you legit do the deep breathing shit- which your therapist always recommended you to do.

Now what?

You serve yourself some noodles instantly, since you don’t feel hungry anymore, rush to the dining table and start chomping on the cold noodles as you open the attachment.

What made you almost throw up was that the mention of word counts. Which is 3k by the way, though no where near how much you usually write.

Shoto is definitely not the kinda guy to have read any wattpad books, or more specifically even have come across the word 'headcanon’.

He probably noticed how you mention it as well at the end, but decided to put it in the beginning,, for god knows what reason?? Or, he did decide to go through the fanons- which your readers’ posts on tumblr. This eases your nervousness, you clearly urge for more.

You swipe down, reading furiously fast, yet scanning every word and sentence- atleast twice. The chapter, honestly, was mediocre. He had ideas but couldn’t put them across- with excessive repetition of words, but he is almost close to-

“Honey, are you done?” Todoroki’s voice almost scares you. You look at your bowl ready to grab another bite- but you had already finished the meal.

“Earth to Y/N. Don’t tell me my words were that mesmerizing,” he says with a smile as he rubs his hair with a towel.

“Let’s be honest, though you don’t have the talent of a writer, your idea was- kinda similar to mine. What I’m sayin is that you almost. GOT. IT. RIGHT. Well, kuro did spy on KAORI’S house that unfaithful night, and he didn’t have any sources as such, which does mean that he is hiding his real quirk- but, no- I’m not telling you more than that.”

“Since you already know that I read all your chapters, and did like the book- I certainly can’t wait to understand why KURO would possibly do that.”

You just smirk off his curiosity; “You gotta wait boy,” you say as you as you walk back to kitchen counter with your bowl. Todoroki marches behind you to grab the cleaning cloth to clean the table, as you do the dishes.

“Put that towel in the washing machine, please.”

“Yup,” you almost feel an ounce of happiness in his reply. After he closes the machine’s door, you at last ask, "So what are your thoughts?“ It has never been one of you expectations for the people to you read your books or even, praise you for writing, but a review wouldn’t hurt, would it?

"Uhh- well, I love how everything is now just coming together, as one can foreshadow that the book’s gonna end. The use of words was elegant, and the plot is bewitching. Has been a while since I even read anything in thriller, that too- this good. Fuck. Reading kaori’s point of view just the day before the murder was- unbelievable. And characters, they all are just great.”

That is indeed a Todoroki kinda explanation. 

“Wow you did read all of tha-” but before you could complete your statement, shoto just grabbed your hips and stood tall behind you, now speaking in an extremely low tone, “And not to mention- the first sex between Kaori and Braun, it literally was like the depiction of ours. Except, they were awkward and slow, we weren’t.”

You pause. what took over him all of a sudden?

He continues, “That gave me a whole another perspective to what sex really means, and moreover what intimacy mean to you. It was.. surreal. Reading it, was as if- I’m living through that afternoon again, but with more emotions, and a bit more of you.”

“It’s not like I’ve explored much to actually wri-”

 “Oh, is that so?”

“I’m not complaining, of course, but these are the moments I believe must be left to cherish and our intimate times just feel more- sacred to me like this??” Sigh, “Ugh. Now, how do I explain?” Well, that is true, even though Todo and you’ve dated for almost two years now, it was just four months ago that you lost your virginity with him, on your nineteenth birthday. 

He had already lost his with the previous girl he was with. Though he never implied, it felt as if you were obliged to do it for him, due to your own insecurities. Once he got to know that, his reaction was nothing as what you had thought. He said that he loved you, and such things are nothing related to love; that sex is overrated, and continued on saying dorky yet adorable stuff like- cuddling was much better and what not. Since then, you had sex with him just thrice. None of you were really against this unspoken agreement, to not have-

Wait, an unspoken agreement?

Unspoken.

You instantly feel like an hypocrite, since you had just claimed to have nothing unspoken between you both.

Sudden a sharp pain in the skin of your neck brings you back to reality. Shoto is sucking on your skin, kissing ever so lightly. As if marking you.

An audible morn escape your parted lips as the bowl just falls on the kitchen sink. Todoroki leans forward and simply closes the tap and whispers, “So you do like to be 'submissive’, don’t you? Had this discovery while reading one of your books, 'Starless nights’.”

The exact book for which you had to watch vintage porn to make the chapters with intercourses more sensual and intresting.

Again, taking you by surprise, he simply turns you around as you continue stare at the ground with your hands wet, in front of you like dog’s pow.

“So I assume you liked my headcanon.”

“Yup; was much better than the crap I write, let’s go to-” but you’re interrupted-

“Now baby, we both know you’re the better writer, and that you just lied.”

“That was sarcas-” but he just pulls you closer and spanks you hard. You hiss as the pain spreads all over your butt cheeks.

“Never interfere, Y/N.” Wait wut-

Your immediate reaction was biting your lips- is he saying the words from the book? Not exactly inacting them but attempting to set a similar atmosphere, which you lowkey craved for in your wildest dreams.

“Since I’ve anyways taken this unspoken, unofficial oath of keeping you happy and stuff, now why not help you with some satisfaction- with all those juices flowing down your-”

You suddenly push him back and blurt while blushing hard, “Stop with this teasing and aw- awkward co- conversations todoroki! Fuckin’ juices, seriously? I’m not co- comfortable with-”

But then, you notice his right hand in your shorts. Or more like the sheer coldness against you clit, almost like there’s ice against it. When did his hand go in there? You end up clenching his T-shirt, as you jolt up on your toes.

“You. Clearly. Want. This. Don’t. You.” Suddenly, he pulls his hand out as he grabs your ass tight as he pulls you even further. Then, he brings his hand up to the height of you face and simply starts stares at the dampness on his fingers, “Wetter than I suspected." 

Now behold the unbelievable.

He keeps staring at his fingers, opens his mouth as he places his fingers into them and suck it as you watch this piece of art in awe.

"Can’t believe that I had you like- just thrice before this. You do live up to what I usually call you, honey.” He continues, “I hope you’ve noticed my creativity as well, as i used my coldness to.. nudge it.”

“You’re being quite quirky today, aren’t you?” This statement just makes him go still, and the next second he’s found laughing. His deep voice, almost reverberating in the silent room. He steps back, brings one hand to his face as he looks down and continues to laugh. The mere sight of him in this way gives you so much warmth, this is the moment you realize that this is the true home. With him.

When he finally looks up, the mere sight of you blushing so hard makes him lose his composure again, but this time it’s a nervous laugh. 

Approaching closer, you set your hands on his torso and continue, “That was quite execrable pun to chortle at, we were doing excellent just now-” but in reply, he simply cups his hand around your cheeks and say, “Shit y/n. You’re going to be the death to me,” and continues grinning like an airhead.

Why is he being annoying now? After so much sexual tension, how can he stop? In midst of you cursing yourself in your head, he leans at your height and kisses you.

Finally being out of patience, you look at the ground and stutter, “Ca-can we do i-it al-alrea-”

“Quite frankly, I’d like if you stay quiet, you shall take what I’ll give you, right?”

You look up immediately into his beautiful heterochromic eyes and say without any further doubts with a smirk, “Go ahead, Shoto, who am I to deny?”

“Sedective. umm, I like that.” he smirks too.

“Know that I love you,” and that’s it. Within one second, his hands are in your hair and his face is buried in your neck, digging deeper into you, as if uprooting releasing your soul from your body.

Skin glistening on your collar bone now and colours warming up on your cheeks, you whimper under his dominance, as he squeezes your waist and lightly nips against your shoulder. You shiver, with pretty evident  goosebumps, in spite of the heat you both bear at this point. 

Your breath gets hitched in your throat as he moves inwards below your collarbones. while his hands rest on your waist. You involuntarily climb a bit on him, intending to close the gap, but more to feel his manhood against you. Your hands firmly on his shoulders, almost pushing him back- maybe because it’s too much pleasure to feel at once. 

At another rise of your hips, Todoroki places his hand on your waist and pushes you back down, “Easy, easy princess,” he mummers before getting back to fiercely kissing me. You run your fingers through his hair, as you body slowly commences to accept an indeed new experience bombarded at you. 

Suddenly, you remember something. In heist, you shove him back and say, “Wait! We need to wash our hands- I- I mean we have just did chores. Well, at least partially and I need to wash myself- I mean I’m clean,” but then you stop to look at him just to find him in utter shock. 

“Shoto! I mean I want this but hygiene is impor- fuck. I’m. Such. A. Boner. Killer. Ain’t I?”

“Point made.” Todoroki picks you up in bridal style and rushes towards the bathroom.  for some reason i thought of adding this,, lmao

“Wait what-?”

“No time to waste.”

This makes you giggle a bit. You wash yourself while he as well washes his hands, and you practically pull him out of the bathroom, grab him by his collar and kiss him deeply as his hands slowly move up and down, feeling your torso- flesh untouched due to s mere knit. 

His hand unapologetically moves to the hem of your sweater, and further inside; but within one move of his, you stood there shivering, exposed. 

Immediately, you move forward in order to close the distance between you and shoto out of nervousness. His eyes drop down to your heaving chest and you’re painfully aware of that.

“Don’t. Don’t hide,” he mutters, grabbing a hold of your hands and locking them behind with one of his own for you to stay still; as he slides his other in your shorts. You feel his gentle hand running down the slit.

“Honey you’re dripping wet, what have i done to this innocence?” It seems that he expected a reply, but you didn’t. You just couldn’t. He then pulls the other hand to you face, diving in for yet another passionate kiss- accompanied by a battle of tongues this time. You are going breathless, but he refuses to move away.

The creasing in your folds level up to three fingers now,. He isn’t generous anymore, with aggressive circles in there, he finally commands, “Say my name.” 

“Sho-shoto.” Your moans only fuel in his lust and desires, his want, an indeed selfish want to have you all for himself, to offer the utmost satisfaction.

He pushes a finger into you as you instinctively let out a small breath hold his busy arm with both of your hands. This makes him push you against the wall with his free hand.

“M-my legs, it’s going numb,” on hearing this, he removes his own shirt and slightly repositions himself, with one hand now on the waist and the other back in there. He kisses your forehead as you look down, unable to keep up with his pace.

That’s when the coldness returns.

 “I- ah- can we ge-get to the bed first?” Your stuttered words only results in a widened smile from him. He is enjoying the sight, clearly in love with the effect he has on you. His head shakes, further sliding another finger inside you, “You can do it baby. You’re taking it all in without questioning.”

You nod quickly, as you start climb up a bit again. In return, he slowly curls his fingers- more and more with each passing second making you almost cry out this time, “Please n-no, this is too intense for me.”

“Yet my princess didn’t make Braun stop after that, I read in somewhere that Kaori secretly wished for him to not stop even if she said so. Just go on.”

You didn’t know how to come back at it, because it is true. You want your Shoto to push those limits you’ve set for himself, and you’d as well be fine if he simply throws off you cliff at this point. 

“Now now, spread your legs y/n.” 

Did he say something? You couldn’t listen. With eyes rolled back, you can’t comprehend anything to begin with.

“SPREAD YOU LEGS or else I won’t play nicely.” You’re eyes shoot up, and find his already searching for yours; before leaning in and gently kissing you. Your legs not being shut anymore, todo takes the opportunity, making his finger get stuffed deeper. His two digits start moving faster and harder, pounding against your walls- all while he feels you squirm to slow down.

“You can take it hun’,” he definitely knows what he’s doing, and you’re totally in for it. “Y-yes,” you moan softly. This is when he slides in a third finger, now really making you scream.

You attempt to gasp and struggle to stand, but then he says,”Stay,” as you unknowingly slide down the wall. Your nails dig in the skin of his back as you try to stable your stance on your tip toes yet eventually, your legs give out on you.

Suddenly, you feel him hit a spot which just pulls something inside your stomach. Todoroki on the other hand, notices your unusual hitched breath and starts hitting the SAME. EXACT. SPOT.

His free hand goes to the back and around your waist, holding you evermore tightly so that you won’t hurt yourself.

“I feel- like that- again-,” you manage to blurt.

“Like what?”

“Like pe-peeing, b-but different. Just like th-the last time we-”

He simply smirks, “We what?” He sighs and growls in your ear, “Is princess gonna squirt for me?”

Your body shudders against him as you moan his name, again and again, “Shoto, I-I-”

“That’s it. Squirt for me y/n,” with that he removes his hand entirely for one second, only to push two digits inside again, now thirsting harder and curling tighter; with his thumb against you slit. His hand grows even more colder, almost stinging down there, making you restless. 

“Now.”

He watches you open your mouth and moan loudly, as his hand only gets wetter, feeling you squirt against his hand. You shake hard in his hold. He doesn’t let you go. A tear escapes you eyes, but simply doesn’t seem to care,”Shoto, for some reason I-I feel s-so great wi-with yo-,” but you are interrupted as he shoves you further against the wall , sliding down your shorts and undergarment, again with three fingers in.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises you while curling those fingers inside and then removing them together. He further continues, “seems like you’re ready,“ as he rubs the wetness inside the slit, giving special attention to your clit.

Saying that, he kneels down, now facing lower abdomen and plants a kiss over there. You simply look down at him, still struggling to balance, searching for even a slightest hint to know what is there to come.

Maybe he’ll stand up an carry you to the bed? or How about making him feel better this time?

But then, his face smashes his face on your dampness; almost attempting to bury in it as he holds you up and pushes. your legs apart. You clearly know where this is going, todoroki will be showing no mercy whatsoever.

"That wasn’t even the start honey,” he confesses in midst of you moans and begs for him to go slow. It doesn’t hurt anymore as much as it gives an unbearable form of pleasure.

You moan and whimper, yet he continues to suck in your clit. You can feel a finger inside, or maybe two, as they go in and out. Practically shattering you all at once while fusing you once for all.

Your hand travel its way to his hair. Ruffled enough to make the red and the white parts almost indistinguishable.

Oh dear.

Though your eyes are close, hands are fumbling around for support and legs are strictly held in place by Shoto, yet you can feel his tongue moving. As if in patterns, not that you could figure out. It either went in for an eight or just licked off entirely as one does while eating an icecream. You moan his name again and again, the same sensation building up block by block as he paves deeper and denser.

“I can’t take this anymor-”

“What makes you think that’s gonna stop me from eating this pussy.”

Little do you know that shoto can’t hold back anymore, it’s not just that he is in control but he has lost control. At the sight of your dark flushed red cheeks, delicacy and vulnerability, he only gets faster and tougher on you. His other fingers reach around and grips your ass, with his fingers slightly grazing across your unused hole.

That’s it, that was enough for you to go stagnant again, in your mind atleast. Your legs start shaking, with your mouth parted yet again. Shoto quickly stands up, with fingers still inside, to help you stay stood up. You feel yourself about to pass out, but in actuality are fully awake and aware. He kisses you, now moaning with you as well, as he fingers you until you cum.

His teeth take in your lower lip as your eyes flicker up at his unmatched ones.

Shoto, with one hand against the wall, halts for a minute. He stands tall in front of you, while holding you as you struggle to stand.

In midst of huffed breaths, you manage to say, “I- I, I mean- can I make you feel good as well?” On listening thise words, he goes still, “Baby, you can barely stand.”

“Still-” but again, before you could say anything, he picks you up in bridal style and dropping you on the bed; letting you lay back while he removed his left over garments.

This is when his erect manhood is finally exposed, refilling your memories of your first time when you had simply wondered how would you take all of that in. You did, though it was painful. But this time you refuse to be scared by the length, you know this is going to feel the best and you’re willing to take him in, deep inside you.

Shoto sighs and walks to the bed, “No-”

“Shoto?”

“Tonight is about you. Let ME explore you.”

“I wa-wanna hug you,” you blurt out.

He giggles, “sure, all that my y/n wants shall come true.”

But when you attempt to get up, your legs just fail to response. Even the slightest movement feels like a bolt of electricity run through you. At the sight of you falling back on the bed, Shoto simply smirks and says, “By the looks of it, I think I did a pretty good job at pushing your limits.”

“Don’t- I can’t even walk.”

“Wait,” he climbs on the bed beside you, sitting with back against the headboard while you lie against him, still breathless, still attempting to move.

“Don’t move princess,” saying this, he carefully pulls you up, with your head on his thigh. He helps you sit up slowly, while embracing your body against him, and finally hugs you, like a child clenching onto his teddy favourite bear.

“You are so beautiful,” he says as he gets up, while eyes glued on you. He moves to the end of the bed and pulls you towards him as he climbs in again. His two digits reenter your dampness, almost making you hiss at first but it’s soon replaced with moans.

Your back arcs as you mumble, “Sho-shoto, I’m very sensitive ri-right n-now. ah-”

While on his part, he receives it as a signal to level up to the next stage. He slowly penetrates in, soon pacing up. Warmth filled in your hearts and sweat glinting the lustre. He repostions you both a couple of times, giving you different forms of pleasures with each go. 

You as well witness his fire quirk leaking out at times. He kisses you deeply and claims you as his own as he repeats the words, “I’ll never let you go.”

Now it’s past 3am, as your exhausted bodies lay next to each other; that’s when he whispers, “I love you.” Maybe he thinks you are already asleep, but you are not. He clearly can’t leave anything unspoken.

i hope this has left you baffled 

[angelisverba]

golden

in which y/n’s life is dark, but the fae king sees she’s golden.

word count: 12k

pairing: y/n and the Fae King, Harry

warnings: allusion to suicidal thoughts, angst, & a very sad reader.

note: This is my fic for the #FineLineFicChallenge that @hsogolden is hosting. I submitted for Golden! Enjoy :)

It was a known fact, that one isn’t to mess with the Fae. 

Don’t try to communicate with them.

Don’t try to find them.

Don’t do anything with them.

Masters of twisting the truth because they cannot tell lies, the ethereal beings were dangerous in the sense that they cared not for anything but their own interest. If they wanted your lover, they would do everything to take them from you. 

But y/n wasn’t one to listen to the rules. 

Especially one that promised her a better life, at no cost other than to seek it.

Her life wasn’t exactly shit, but it also wasn’t enjoyable. It was bland. And, to put it straight, lonely.

She had no family, and no friends or lovers. Life had made surviving her number one priority, and bouncing from job to job her favorite hobby. The girl lived in an apartment that had her feeling like a heroin addict, and she’d never had a dose of drugs in her life that wasn’t Tylenol. And, well, she had the looks of one; a feral, dead look in her eye accompanied with a malnourished body from eating what her pocket change allowed her to: ramen noodles. 

It was pathetic. She had to shower using a cup because the overhead didn’t work, and she couldn’t sit because the bathtub was full of rust on the edges. Her walls were cracked and at night there was a faint scratching of nails in the ceiling. The sink was missing a knob, the light bulb in the mini-fridge didn’t work, and neither did the one in her room. 

But, she couldn’t complain because it was all she could afford. Y/n was grateful that she had a roof over her head, even if it was infested with rats, and the cheapest, tattered clothes on her back. At least she had food, water, clothes, and a home, right? Even if it was the worst quality and her unfortunate state of mind made it worse?

View it however, she was done. Had been for a long time, but she didn’t really know how to stop, how to live a new life.

Until that night.

        *                                                *              *

                                                   *                                **

It was another lonely night for y/n, and those she usually spent in chic bars she would never be able to afford, sipping on drinks and observing. Learning; mentally taking notes of how rich people lived their lives and all the mannerisms that came with it because maybe, just maybe, if she acted like one, she’d be one. That dainty toss of the wrist, the graceful, hypnotizing tilt of the chin that told a man you were interested.

She didn’t dress like she was going to the bar, which made her stick out like a sore thumb in the high-ceiling, leather-furnished, glass-walled place, and she didn’t drink alcoholic beverages. She sat at the far end of the bar counter, sipping on a glass of tap water the bartender gave her because he pitied her, and watched. That last part didn’t really matter because it turned out, rich people got more drunk than people with less money than them-- a blacked out woman (or three) ending up on the marble floors at the end of their outing. Men never tried to talk to her because she always showed up in ragged jeans and shirts with holes in them, and women wouldn’t even look her way. 

That is of course, until another dead-eyed person walked up to the counter. 

She was a Scottish woman, or maybe Irish-- y/n couldn’t remember much. Only that she talked of fairies prancing and singing around mushroom tops and a fairy king that got angry when she said thank you. Drunken slurs, that were only made more incomprehensible by her accent, spilled from her lips at the first sip of brandy, and at the sound of her foreign tone, y/n’s ears perked to hang onto every word.

“Never in my forty two years of putrid life did I see something like that, and I doubt I ever will again.” The woman said to the bartender. She was wearing a sleeveless cardigan the color of hazelnuts when they’ve fallen off trees, decorated with golden medallions that jingled every time she moved her shoulders. Big, was an appropriate word to describe her hair; voluminous, blown out Barbie waves that plumped at the top of her head and bounced all down her back to end at her hips. Her eyes were an engaging amber color, the kohl black charcoal on her eyelids enhancing them like boiling magma, the reddish-brown shade in stark similarity with the blood-red shade of paint on her thick lips. “Dance with us, to your heart's content, so fun you’ll want to never stop, them little brats tried to get me, they did! If it hadn’t been for the Fae King, well--” she huffed, a jerking movement with her entire body, “-- I wouldn’t be here, that’s for sure.”

The bartender, a middle-aged man in a flannel with a 5 o’clock shadow sprinkled on the lower half of his face, pursed his lips and rolled his eyes as he wiped down a shot glass with a rag. “Sure as hell never seen a drunk lady talk about faeries before. Santa Claus? Sure, but faeries? You must be on some heavy stuff, ma’am.”

Y/n was staring into the center of her glass, watching the water ripple, strangely comforted by the slow movement of the liquid; her fingers tapped rhythmically at the ridges molded into the edges of the cup. It looked as if she wasn’t paying attention, with eyes cast downwards, but every inch of her was standing on edge, eager for a story. Essentially, this was the reason why she came to these bars when she felt like it, to catch a story; be entertained. Her own life wasn’t enough, she needed more, even if it didn’t belong to her.

“Aye, lassie!” shouted the woman, lifting her glass with a pointed finger towards the lonely girl at the other end of the bar. 

At her loud exclamation, y/n glanced up to see what was the cause of the remark, and found the woman looking at her with a peculiar, interested look in her eye. Y/n twisted to look behind her, oblivious that the woman’s true subject was her. Expecting someone to be standing where the woman pointed, she returned to her original position, confused. 

“Lassie, it’s you I’m talkin’ to, listen to this tube, says faeries aren’t real. You believe me don’t you?”

Because the feeling of humor was so scarce in her life, it had turned into a strange and foreign feeling rendering her useless in how to react-- and while y/n found the woman humorous in her drunken ramblings, she wasn’t quite sure how to express it. A wormy smile played on her lips as she nodded her response, the bartender throwing her a bewildered look because it was the first time he’d seen her interact with anyone other than him.

“Well den, I guess you’ll listen to me, won't you? I’ve gotto tell sumone or I’ll go radge.” The woman throws her head back and finishes what’s left of her drink, wiggling two fingers at the bartender to signal: she wants another. Y/n watches from her seat as the lady hops off her seat, one hand on the counter to keep her standing as she wobbles over in her direction; the medallions on her cardigan tinkling with every swish of her hips. When she stood, the dull heels of her knee high boots slapped against the sleek floor, the noise making y/n jump.

“Listen, here,” she sat on the empty bar stool next to y/n with a labored huff, “don’t you ever go walking round the woods on a full moon. My own mother been telling me that since I was on her tit, and I should have listened.” Her tone was slightly spiteful, and exasperated at her own action. She made the same gesture at the young girl, two long-nailed fingers curling and drawing y/n closer to her, as if she was going to tell her a secret. 

Never go walking in the woods on a full moon.

“The trees- they speak. Got ears I’m telling ya,” The woman’s voice rasped at her hushed tone. “Will o’ wisps are sweet talkers, I’m telling ya!” 

Y/n bit her lip in efforts to keep a building laugh in. The stranger didn’t look at all drunk, she was in complete control of her facial features, and her voice was funky because y/n wasn’t used to the accent. If it hadn’t been for the tell-tale empty glasses she kept generating, one wouldn’t even be able to tell. 

Finally deciding to propel the conversation further, she said, “Is that so?” 

“Swear on the Fae King himself, I do! Told me to find the mushrooms for a good time, coz I was out for a piss half mad with moonshine. Knew what they were doin, they did. I thought they meant those that make ya loopy, shite don’t even know what made me listen to them.” She grumbles the last part to herself, her chin tilting down to touch her chest as she frowns.  

“What happened next?” Y/n asked, propping her chin on the flat of her palm. 

The woman looked up, startled like she’d forgotten there was someone there. “Next? Next…. Next, oh yes!” Crossing her legs, she angled her body sideways to y/n. “Will o’ wisps said to walk the opposite way a clock does around the circle of mushrooms and I did! I did! And, and it got me to the fairy realm. ‘Course I didn’t know until after the king himself told me. But this... this circle of sky opened up-- like,” her head tilts to the side as she thinks of ways to form her thoughts into words. “Like the sky fell and was standing before me. Go through it and find eternal happiness, they told me.”

Walk the opposite way a clock does around the circle of mushrooms. Go through it and find eternal happiness.

As soon as those words left the Scottish woman’s lips, y/n was hooked. A part of herself that had slowly been locked away throughout her pitiful, self-depreciating life, and, that part of her came to life-- it bloomed awake, triggered by the words eternal happiness. An earth-shattering revival.If this woman wasn’t spitting shit, then… this was her chance. 

“It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Her voice went soft and hazy, recalling the images of a far away land. “It was green… everywhere. And the flowers were alive.” She snaps back into a more solid tone, “They fairies were too-faced little bitches, though.”

Y/n nodded, noting and agreeing. “Tell me more.” 

Needing to further probing, the tales continued. “They tried to get me to eat, to dance. And I nearly did, you know? I would have, had it not been for the king… I’d be dead.” The bartender slid a glass their way, a manicured hand reaching to catch it without turning to look at it. “He saved me from them. He apologized for his subjects actions, even housed me for the night, and escorted me out the next day. Mentioned something about…” Her head cocked, eyes squinting. “A star telling him not to wipe fairy dust against my forehead to make me think it was just a dream.”

Someone in the distance dropped a glass, and a shattering noise was heard; reduced to a meager tinkle. The bartender whipped his towel in anger, and went to see what the fuss was about. 

“He was truly… well I can’t even explain it. You’d have to see it with y’own eyes.”

Y/n tapped her forefinger on the plushy center of her lips three times before saying, “And, what exactly do I have to do to see it with my own eyes?” 

The question simmered in unknown waters while the woman registered what y/n had asked. It was clear; the transition of her eyes going from unfocused and dazed to serious. 

“Why, lass, would you want to find those piece of shites?” Her head bobbled. “After I just-”

“I just wanted to hear you tell the story, that’s all.” Y/n shot to respond, set on getting the stranger to tell her how to get to the fairy realm. Every atom in her buzzed with friction against each other, excited, elated to have what basically a reason to life again. What Wonderland was to Alice, this was to her. 

A rabbit hole.

“Legend goes that if a pure-hearted being leaves offerings for the Fae, the Fae may respond. This is why lil’ tikes always talk about, having dem-- imaginary friends. They’re fairies-- they friend, that is. Fae people show themselves to children because they’re pure. Maidens before their wedding night, if desolate, go missing in the woods because the fairies take them. As for me? They wanted to take advantage of me. It’s process; fickle people they are.” A hand waves in the air, brushing away intrusive thoughts. Y/n leaned further into the woman, lips pursed in interest. “Anyways, my mother, her mother and her mother’s mother, have all had encounters with them after long periods of offerings of home-made foods, and planting flowers in the woods. Slowly, over-time, they gather the courage to show themselves. But, what happened to me was the Summoning of the Full-Moon. And- HEY! ‘Nother one please.” She repeats the same motion from before, sliding back the empty glass. 

“What is the Summoning of the Full-Moon?” Tapping her fingers to attract her attention again, y/n’s eyes follow the woman’s desperately.

“Right, right. Fleet aren’t you?” She chuckled. “The Summoning of the Full-Moon happens when the moon is full, and you drink a glass of moonwater from the past full moon. To get the moon water, just leave out a pitcher of water in clear view of the moon when it’s full, that way, when the next full one comes around, you drink a glass. The moon charges the water with it’s energy, and it’ll give ya’ the ability to see will’o wisps.”  

The bartender slid another glass, and the woman took a swig before continuing. “Will ‘o wisps are spirits that appear as floating blue flames of fire, usually three atta time at first; one disheartening and appearing behind the last as you move closer to them. They guide travelers, y’see? They lead you to what your heart wants the most-- or wherever destiny takes you-- depends on which one is mighty. It all takes off from there.” At her last words, the small glass listed, and slammed back down empty.

Y/n nodded slowly, absorbing the information that was unloaded on her. Moon water. Will o’ wips. But,

“What happens next?”

“It’s up to Destiny and wherever She wants ta take ya, lass.” The woman winked, her long, curled lashes fluttering closed momentarily. “Of course, that is if we’re talking about a hypothetical situation, isn’t it?” 

Y/n was about to give a flustered response, when a man decked out in a black and white suit, with shades, an earpiece and slicked-back dark hair, tapped the woman on the shoulder and leaned in to whisper something in her ear. The woman lifted a hand and dropped her eyes to the floor, directing some but not all attention to the man. An abrupt change in her voice sends shivers down y/n’s spine; the friendly rasp converting into a chilling, demanding scorn. “Tell Alex he’ll lose 30k from his next check if he doesn’t fix this in an hour. I’ll be out as soon as I wrap up the lovely conversation I’m having with this lassie.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The man says, nodding and walking the way he came.

Lifting her eyes from their casted gaze, the woman locks with y/n’s curious, seeking eyes, and sees. She understands now. The questioning. The peaking glint of interest.

It makes sense. 

“Play your cards right, child.” The woman sighed, her voice suddenly ages older than she seemed. “Play them right, and you’ll find eternal happiness… but, make one wrong move and you’ll screw yourself over forever.”

Then she got up and left. Feet landing one after the other with a firm stance, and a swagger in her walk that hadn’t been there before.

Strange, y/n thought. How quick her demeanor went from drunk to composed.  After that fleeting thought came a tsunami of questions. What was she doing in the woods? What woods? What dis the woman take with her?

But it was too late because the was far gone, and she was left to sit and ponder the countless outcomes that could come if she were to go through with this. For one, eternal happiness. It’s natural for anyone to try and seek it. Who wouldn’t? Especially y/n, who’d been deprived of dopamine for... well, forever. Her childhood was about as good as her current life. Parents who yelled at each other, and at her, leaving her only company to be the stray cats that would lick the tears off of her cheeks; raspy tongues eliciting giggles from the small girl. It was a treasure, what she had found.

She would be stupid if she didn’t at least try.

       *                                                *              *

                                                  *                                **

Y/n left her measly apartment on a day where the clouds looked like objects you could pluck from the sky; fluffy, white cotton shapes that overlapped and left small sifts of space where the sun shone through in beams.  All was shadowed with soft colors; rough edges turned tender, perfectly appropriate for the way the giddy girl felt inside. Floaty, heady, and delicate with a skip in her step. Aloof with happiness and a tickle in her rib. She no longer cared about anything. The latter was true. She didn’t even tell her landlord she was leaving, or anyone else for that matter. Everything that belonged to her and truly significant, was inside a wicker basket she tucked in the crease of her elbow. Food, and a blanket because she wasn’t sure how long she’d be waiting for the Fae to respond.

The Fae. 

After extensive research at her local public library, y/n realized how… complex these creatures were. It was no joke was she was getting into, and the Scottish woman has been right. Make one wrong move, and it was over. The ethereal beings had the power to make the rest of her life living hell if she messed up before eating their food.

Eating their food,

was all she had to do

to stay.

Bound by whatever magic they possessed, she wouldn’t be able to leave the Fae realm if-- when-- she bit into something from their world. Like giving your soul to the devil, but instead it was faeries who pranced in delight, not flames. This promise, this reward had restored something in y/n that hadn’t been there in years. Child-like glee, innocence, purity. Call it what you want. But it was there; a fresh sprite in her soul. Restoration of a youthful essence. 

But it was there, and it was back twice as strong as when it previously existed in her. Ignited by the words she drank from her computer screen; early morning rises to the library, and late night walks home after closing time fueled her through two months. The first, she dedicated to attaining a jar of moon-charged water. 

There was a mason jar in her cabinet that she used to eat blueberries and milk in, which was the only portable-type cup she had. The night before a full moon, she filled it with tap water, and set it on her window sill. For the first three hours into the dark, y/n watched the moonlight dance in the water like the aurora borealis. Her eyes would focus and unfocus with possibilities of her future; the possibilities of her eternal future extending from the tips of her toes like the yellow brick road.  Images of dewy meadows and heart-shaped ponds full of lilies flooded her mind. Willow trees and flowers to make flower crowns and tea out of. She wanted it. Wanted to live among the Fae, and wander aimlessly with beauty and prose.

She yearned for it.

Y/n woke the next day with a jar of... water. It didn’t look any different then from when she poured it into the cup, other than the fact that the glass was dewy from the cold of the night. Her fingerprints decorated the sides where she gripped it, and after bringing it up to her eyes for closer inspection, she set it on her pillow, and left for the library.

Her seek of Fae knowledge continued, with more vigor now that she’d acquired the water. Everyday consisted of books, online pages, audiobooks; anything she found she ate up like she was starving for it.

And in some ways, she was.

Swallowing more that could fit in her mouth, y/n came to learn that the Fae weren’t exactly the comforting go-lucky deities she’d come to perceive them as. Beautiful, sure, but not all of them. And certainly not sweet. 

Anything, but sweet. Y/n found that faeries were actually formidable creatures that enjoyed watching trouble develop. Legend has it, that the Fae were those caught in the in-between land at the time God shut the gates of heaven, and Lucifer trapped demons in hell. They could be angels or demons; fallen angels, outcasts, forgotten on the human plane. Belief in angelic behavior is reported, but lesser than the haunting actions, or bewitching incidents. It was a blind treasure hunt, the one she was getting herself into.

However, it she wouldn’t let that stop her. In some ways, she felt entitled to an explanation, a slice of truth; and answer. It would be an act of sadism to derive her of euphoria after she’d lived so, so shitty. She owes it to herself to seek them out.

Even if they could haunt her forever, take her first born, and or make her dance until her feet were reduced to stubs, she needed to look. Anything would be better than her reality.

Her adventure started with the seek of Rowan trees, sacred trees commonly associated with the Seelie court, the lesser malicious group of fairies. If... her expectations are even a fraction real, then she’s set. Good to go. Safe.

Or at least, once she found them she would be safe. The woods before sunset were enchanting, with golden tones littering the leaves and bark with glittering light. Pieces of peach-colored sky peeking through the empty spaces in the tree canopy, shadows dancing on her skin with every giddy step she took. She wasn’t quite sure where she was going, only that she was looking for the Rowan trees, and the increasing amount of flowers was a good sign (according to the internet). It had been about an hour since she went off the set trail, the ground growing more unleveled with each step. Squirrels and rabbit would scurry across her way every time a branch cracked underneath her feet, and since her eyes were set on the shrubby part of the trees-- looking for the tell-tale red berries of the trees she was looking for-- the furry animals skittered more often than nought.

Slowly, the sun snuggled deep in the horizon, and the remaining light shifted to created harshly shadowed edges on the trees. This prompted y/n to panic, her searching eyes growing faster in their movements. No, no, no, it couldn’t be dark yet. She hadn’t found the trees yet. It would be dark with....

With no light to light her way.

Light. Small flames of blue light, was what the Scottish woman said the Will ‘o wisps were. And to see them, all she had to do is drink the moon water.

The moon water that was in her wicker basket.

With the last of the sun floating away, y/n hurried to flip open the top of her basket, deft fingers dipping in to wrap around the cool mason jar. She screwed it open, lifting it to her lips and taking two generous mouthfuls of the water. She needed to sip at it cautiously, because the offering acceptance took time, and she’d need more than one night to work this out.

To find her way back to whatever spot the spirits took her, she’d need the water. There would be no waiting at the gates of the realm, given that the faeries were suspicious creatures, and it would take time for them to judge and be comfortable around her; deem her a pure maiden at heart. Hovering in the area where she placed her gift would jeopardize any chance at them accepting, or even considering her entrance into the realm

She would have to be patient. And she would be.

Y/n was full of buzzing energy and she let her eyes adjust to the growing darkness. The sun had gone down completely. The trees reduced to smeared shadows and mysterious shapes. Her skin was victim to a crisper kind of air- the cold having a sharper edge to it in the absence of sun. The moon shone brightly, she could see it through the same spaces where the sun had shown through; a milky-white face in the sky, frozen mid-yawn, and though her light was strong, it wasn’t enough to penetrate through the wood’s thick roof of leaves. 

The path space that formed in the gaps of the trees, was cloaked in a pitch blanket, general figures of branches and trees ghosting in her squinted line of vision. Shivering, she shrugged the quilt she carried onto her shoulders, and it was when huddled into herself when she heard the first whisper. 

We hear you.

It was one voice; one whisper. And hundreds resonating behind it. A small, shy, wispy call out to her, sounding as if it were right at the lobe of her ear. 

Y/n is startled, and she jumps, clutching her fists tighter towards her chest, the basket digging into her hip and chafing on the skin in the crook of her elbow, but she doesn’t pay any mind to it because holy shit it’s happening.

Often reported, the wisps whisper or make high pitched whirring noises to catch the attention of the traveler. This was it. What she was hearing, was the calling. The will o’ wisps.

Her head whipped wildly from side to side, searching for the hovering blue and it’s incandescence. Eyes wide with seeking fervor, lips parted as puffs of air left her lips when her chest came down, y/n felt a rush of adrenaline course through her spine. 

“Who can hear me?”

Suddenly, a flashing burst of electric blue color appeared in the distance, about 10 steps away from her current position. She gasped at the sudden outbreak, her eyes stretching to their maximum diameter. All the inklings of doubt that had seeded themselves in her break uprooted and flew in the wind; gone. Real. It was all real. 

And she was doing it. She was helping herself. Providing to her soul what she couldn’t for years: happiness. The mere appearance of these spheres entities sent a buzz of ecstasy to the center of her core because they were real and she was really doing this.  

I can

I can

I can

Three chants of ‘I can’ tinkled, one after the other, appearing with every she took towards the spirit. Her knees shook slightly, goosebumps prickling on her knees with every movement. Eerily, branches crack underneath the soles of her shoes, and she can feel the dispersion of energy against her feet when the wood cracks. With the lack of sun, and how she’s so hypnotized by the will o’ wisps, she doesn’t see the thick hump of tree root sticking out from the ground, the tip of her shoe catching on it and causing her to fall fly forward and dig her nose in the dirt. The basket gets crushed between the dirt and her hip, the abrupt and uncontrolled pressure eliciting a pained yelp from her. Her hand comes out stiffly from underneath the blanket, rushing to push herself back up and relieve the intrusion. As she’s hissing, the dreamy, other-worldly whispers say,

Oh no

Are you okay?

Are you still able,

To come and play?

Smaller, quieter, different toned whispers echo each murmuring, creating a dizzying, mind-spinning effect. To a certain extent, it disoriented her. But the tender, cooing voices smoothed over her unease and comforter her. Encouraged her, even.

Huffing, y/n dragged her dungaree covered knees underneath her, and sat kneeled for a moment.

“Yes, I’m fine.” She panted, the experience amazing her. “Who are you?” 

She stood again, feeling her dented basket with her other hand while she waited for a response. 

We are messengers of Destiny

We will take you 

To what your heart wants most

Be quick, Your Majesty

They won’t way forever

Your Majesty? Now why on earth would they call her that? Befounded, she walked with cautious steps towards the first spirit, and tried to caress it with her fingertips. She wanted to feel it, hold it. But alas, as soon as her hand got close, it disappeared as quickly as it came, and reappeared behind the other two that were in line. The trio produced a bio-luminescent radiance that would surely stump any scientist who tried to explain the logic behind it. There simply was no other reasoning to the phenomenon, other than it was magic. 

She knew that. Could feel the altered tensions in the proximity of the will ‘o wisps, calmer and still where they were. Beats of her heart pounded where her tongue lay, dry, in her mouth. She wasn’t royalty. 

“Why are you calling me that? Why… why are you calling me your majesty?” Y/n stared intently to the very core of the wisps, noticing the change of color at the center. White flickers of tiny bodily shapes, like the spirits were dancing idly in their own capsule of light. 

Destiny calls you so

Destiny yearns for you

You’re almost there

Be quick, Your Majesty

She didn’t understand. Your Majesty, was a title reserved for royals wasn’t it? She was not one. In the midst of her confused and amazed state, a lineage of wisps appeared behind the third one, creating a long path that went straight and then made an abrupt turn left. Enchanted, she followed in a zombie-like state. This was real and it was happening. It was real because her nose was bitten-raw from the cold and her nails pinched into the skin of her palm. Pain didn’t exist in dreams, and her hip still ached where the basket has pressed against it.

This wasn’t a dream.

Will ‘o the wisps flickered in their formation, bursting away when she came into proximity. The exhilarating thrill of attempting to catch; chasing, is what caused her to let out a squeaky giggle that eventually grew into harmonious laughter. Light, gleeful chortles bounced between the trees, and if anyone were to hear here from a distance they’d surely think the woods were haunted. 

Eventually, she reached the turn, and was set onto a winding, twisting road of curving blue light. Y/n was light on her feet, raising them high and setting firmly on the ground. She began to run. 

She ran and ran until her throat went dry, her lungs burned, and her thighs ached; body begging for a break, heart high on the drug of hope. Every slight twist in the wood only motivated her further, coaxing her towards her end target of… wherever the wisps were taking her. She was so submerged in the task of following that she was quite surprised when she arrived at a clearing; a circular space where the trees curved around, almost respectfully. The wisps made a beeline towards the middle, where they made the same pattern the trees did, forming a circle around a ring of mushrooms. 

It was almost comical, the way the red-topped, white-dotted mushroom were arranged in a circle big enough to lay, sprawled, in the middle. 

You’ve made it

You’re here

Destiny wishes you luck

Stay strong, Your Majesty

And then, they dissipated; flip of a switch and the lights were off.

For two days, she waited. The first night, she layed her homemade thumbprint cookies and honey in the center of the ring, leaving a sweet kiss on the wooden plate, and walked aimlessly until the balls of her feet ached. It wasn’t that far, because she had already done so much walking, and the girl was drained from the events she’d witnessed. Y/n settled in an alcove of tree roots, wrapping herself snug with her quilt but shivering despite her efforts. Her stomach rumbled with hunger, but she waited until the morning, wanting to make the food she brought last as long as possible. 

She woke with the faint images of golden petals floating around her, faeries dusting shimmering substances on the top of her head, and a demanding grumble in her stomach. The dirt underneath her hand was soft, dipping in where her the pad of her fingers dug in to push herself up. Instantly, she was met with the feeling of something wet striping up her cheek, a sniffing like noise filtering through her ears.

Blinking, y/n groggily turns her hear, and comes face to face with... a pig. It snorts when it see her move, sitting back on it’s haunches and looking up at her with bunched cheeks so it looked like it was smiling. Y/n’s jaw dropped in shock. Where had this pig come from?

It’s pink skin was a cool contrast in the light of the late-morning sun (y/n was never much of an early riser), and upon closer inspection, she saw the pig was a he. His nose was twitching with interest at the stranger he’s encountered. Ears floppy, bent and jiggling with every call squeal he exhibited, hooves half dug into the dirt. He watched patiently, inspecting and almost waiting for orders. 

“Where’d you come from?” She asked, intrigued at his presence. They both shared a small moment of staring at each other in wonder until her stomach emitted a stale gurgle, pleading for food. The piglet (which he was, given his small stature and clean snout), squealed again, standing up with a jump and walking around in a circle three times, chasing after it’s curly tail before stilling, with his rump facing y/n. He began to walk backwards, continuing until his back legs came up on her lap, and he plopped himself down, tilting his head up with a pleasant smile, while y/n stared at the small creature, astounded.

“Make yourself at home, why don’t you?” She said with a light giggle, reaching with one hand for her basket, and the other to pet the small thing’s head. She might as well embrace him, so she had company. 

The basket was right by her shoulders while she lay, meaning it was now behind her because she had sat up. Clutching the pig so he wouldn’t fall out of her lap while she moved, she twisted her upper body to grab the basket, and the pig adjusted himself, pressing his two front feet onto her lep repeatedly. Making shushing noises, she flipped open the wicker flap, and reached in to grab whatever she found. 

A sleeve of ritz crackers, that she ripped open eagerly, popping the first cookie into her mouth. Chewing, she looked around for the first time that day.

She was surrounded by much, much bigger trees than the ones she was venturing in the day before. Tall, brooding giants; rows and rows of trunks thicker than her wingspan and arching branches casting shadows on those who walked underneath. Might and wise, but silent and still. And intimidating network of roots on the ground mirrored the intertwining leaves above her, so high up she had to throw her head all the way back to see the expanse.

Breathtaking, is what it was. Y/n hadn’t been this connected with nature since that field trip she took with her third grade class to the blooming tulip meadows. She appreciated their presence, basked in the beams of light that shone through and grazed over the grass and moss on the trees. She even stopped eating, transfixed by the image before her, and she would have continued pondering in the glorious, godly image of greens and brown had the pig in her lap not shifted to sniff at her hand. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled, glancing down at his curious tilted head. “Want some crackers, too?” Y/n wriggles her fingers into the brown packaging and took out two cookies, setting one on her tongue and extending the other towards the pig. He sniffs at it, his snout twitching, before cocking his head and picking it up with the side of his mouth. The pig gets close to her, placing the flat underside of his chin in the groove of her neck, snorting appreciatively. 

“You’re a cute one,” she hums more to herself, tracing the pads of her fingers on the piggy’s back. 

They fall asleep like that again, after y/n had finished the sleeve of crackers. The girl so calmed by the image presented in front of her, she slipped into a light slumber, the breeze and waving sheets of leaves lulling her eyes closed. 

She spent the day like that, rationing her food, and sleeping, the pig switching positions from her lap, to her side, and eventually by her feet. The thick quilt she had brought stayed on her shoulders at all times, keeping her warm in the crispy forest air. 

Nearing the sunset again, a butterfly landed on the tip of her nose, stretching its wings and tickling her awake. Her eyes fluttered opened when everything around her was lit a golden haze; the tell-tale sign that the sunset was near, and so was the night. The blue butterfly flew away when she took the first breath, and she watched it fly away with hazy eyes, not fully awake and aware yet. 

Y/n jumped when the piglet let out a squeal, and upon looking down, she saw that he had remained settled into her side while she slept.

With a smile on her lips as she placed her hands on her back to stretch, she said, “Well, hello there!” She patted his head, and he leaned into her touch. “You stayed!”

The pig smiled, which sounds ridiculous but his lips really turned upwards, filling his eyes with a glint, and squealed his response. Y/n’s heart warmed at the sweet animal, happy that she had company and wasn’t alone. Her friends, she realized, had always been furry. Animals were the only beings that were ever welcoming of her, treasured her presence, and reciprocated the love she had to offer.

“Will you stay through the night as well?” The girl remarked, scratching behind the piglet’s ears. “I sure hope so.” A sad look took over her face, the corners of her lips pinching downwards as a sudden wave of forlorn thoughts washed over her.

She was sitting in the forest, all by herself, following after a drunk woman’s rants because that it what her dissatisfaction led her to. That’s how much she lacked. That’s how much she yearned for. It goes to show the large chunk that was missing, because she had no second thoughts about doing so. It hurt, knowing no one would worry about her, and that she had nothing to regret leaving.

As if sensing her unease, the pig started bucking up into her hand, his snout blowing onto her palm and tickling her skin. The action made her laugh, her first genuine, comfortable laugh at an act of humor. A deep, belly chuckle that made her cheeks hurt. 

She had learned to laugh again. 

Y/n got up from her spot on the forest floor, and stretched with her arms reaching towards the canopy, fingers splaying and tightening the skin between them. Taking a deep breath, the corner of her lip quirked up in her smile.

Night two was underway and she was ready.

With her furry companion, the girl picked her basket up and began her walk in the general direction of her arrival. It was hard to tell, because it was pitch black when she made it to her spot, but either way she walked far enough that she would need guidance from the wisps to get back on the correct track.

The sun repeated the same routine it had the day before, splashing an assortment of colors on tree bark and leaves, streaking the sky wild orange taints and soft blues to contrast. It was ethereal image, the one she was witnessing. Like something out of a documentary, except she was there, seeing it with her own eyes. 

Her neck was starting to hurt with how much she craned it to see the mesh of vibrancy in the sky, and the piglet alongside her had often bumped it’s small snout on her ankle when she stopped moving to gaze. When night finally came, the moon was a partly eaten up by shadow, her color less vibrant that the day before. But it was fine, because according to research, what mattered most was the first offering on the full moon.

Repeating the same steps from last night, y/n took another drink from her glass, and blinked three times exactly, waiting for the wisps to formulate in front of her.

And they did.

But there was something different about it this time. They were quiet, a change from their past fizz of whisper. Confused, y/n tilted her head and tried to speak to the.

“Hello?”

Silence. Not even the whistling sound of their breaths. The wind had stopped, and as the line of blue orbs created a twisting route between the trees, the hairs on y/n’s spine stood on end. The air was charged with... a certain potential that was impossible to miss. A certain static of promise.

Tonight was the night.

As she walked towards the wisps, her footsteps were accompanied by the soft pitters of her tiny friend, stuck by her feet still, despite everything happening around them. Could he see them too? Was her cold? He probably was. If y/n was cold, then he was too. Deciding to not only warm herself up, she took out her blanket and bent down to pick him up, cradling him against her chest and wrapping the blanket around him as well, to which he responded with a cuddle into her neck.

With purpose in her step, the hopeful girl began her journey, following the marked up path left by the wisps. It was, as expected, longer than the first. She had ensured that she was far enough away before settling down for the night.

Nevertheless, she made it to the blue luminescent ring of red-topped mushroom (like the ones from Mario), and stared. 

It was apparent, that she had no clue what to do next.

“Now what? Tell me what to do?”

The last wisp, placed in the center of the ring, spoke for all the spirits the first time since they appeared that night.

Destiny had spoken once, She will not speak again.

The knowledge you need to open the realm,

is one you already know.

Furrowing her eyebrows, y/n took a moment to digest the message.

She knew? She knew how to open the gate? The extent of her research only described protocol on fairy manners, what they were like, and what to do in the case of an encounter. Never explicitly the steps to open the realm to meet them. Yet, the wisps said otherwise. They claimed she knew the ways to open the realm.

How could that be true… 

The woman looked up, startled like she’d forgotten there was someone there. “Next? Next…. Next, oh yes!” Crossing her legs, she angled her body sideways to y/n. “Will o’ wisps said to walk the opposite way a clock does around the circle of mushrooms and I did! I did! And, and it got me to the fairy realm. ‘Course I didn’t know until after the king himself told me. But this... this circle of sky opened up-- like,” her head tilts to the side as she thinks of ways to form her thoughts into words. “Like the sky fell and was standing before me. Go through it and find eternal happiness, they told me.”

OH. The Scottish woman! The Scottish woman had told her exactly what to do. Walk counter-clockwise around the circle of mushrooms. 

And that was it. 

All she had to do. 

Y/n was in the middle of contemplating if she should do it or not, given she had only presented one offering, when she saw the note.

In the middle of the ring, lay a fist sized scroll that was only visible because the last wisp hovered above it. The pig next to her glanced from her to the script, and skipped over to clutch the script with his mouth, and trotted over to give it to her. 

The wisps didn’t disappear when the pig approached it, but it raised higher above the ground, above her head and just past that; blue light glowing just a bit brighter.

The girl bent to get the note from the piglet, and gave it a small pat on the head before unrolling the thick paper. It had a very quality feel to it, grooves tickling her finger-pads. The slip, not much better than her hand, read,

the pie was delicious. we are most appreciative of it. proceed.

The black inked scripture widened her eyes, sending a shiver up her spine.

Well, that settled her question. She could, proceed.

And she did. Y/n placed the note in her basket, and picked up her small friend, needing the emotional support. Her lungs expanded in a burning breath, bracing herself for what was to come. No turning back now.

She angled herself so her feet were parallel to the mushroom she was near, and began to walk. Please let me in, please please please let me in. I need this, please. She begged mentally. The girl wasn’t sure what would happen if this went wrong. Her hopes were high, and the crash would be devastating.She begged to whoever would listen; whoever was in charge. Please let me in.

Nothing happened, until she passed her third mushroom.

The remaining will o’ wisp began to expand, it’s light turning a lighter blue color, bubbling out and expanding into a concrete oval, growing in size as she made her way around the ring. The pig in her arms was quiet, not affected by what was going on like he saw it happen everyday, but y/n, on the other hand, was having her mind blown. Her lips were parted as soft breaths came out of them, scared to breathe to her full capacity, watching as the color of light went from blue to yellow. The two colors merging in a gradient shift, the orb growing bigger and larger as water expands when spilled on a flat surface.

Fleeting shadows danced through the portal, like the reflection of birds flying over a lake’s surface. 

Y/n picked up the pace on her last round, and a breeze began to blow out her hair. the light from the now door-sized hole turned a golden color; a glittering, metallic shade of yellow that swirled in a spiral at the speed of her steps, dizzying her. The far-away sounds of a child’s giggled resonated through the forest, coming from the golden circle in the ring.

When she stopped at her starting mark at the end of the third rotation, the portal rose higher, higher, higher, and then floated down like a swaying feather in the air, the golden beams of light now shooting skyward.

It came to lay on the grass covered floor, flattening in the area inside the circle of the mushrooms, the gold-lined edge nearly touching the tip of her show.

The front of her face was covered in the golden light, her eyes gleaming in the colored glow. Laughter sounded from it, the sound of music teasingly escaping, low enough that she could hear it over the lapping water noises from the portal.

The pig, still in her arms, began to thrash and squirm, squealing wildly until y/n finally let him go, and he didn’t hesitate to jump in the pool of gold.

“Wait, wait no, n-,” y/n protested, but his curly tail was gone before her hand even attempted to catch him.

After his leap, the portal rippled, and cleared into a calm mustard yellow splashed with... clouds? It was a piece of sky that fell to the ground, just like to woman had said. Without thinking twice about it, she jumped through, just like her friend had done.

Her body was instantly met with a chilling wind, as if she wasn’t wearing any clothes. It was a disorienting feeling of shooting up, and coming back down like she was falling, landing in the same spot where the portal had been, except now it was closed. Her butt ached where is received most of the impact, and y/n groaned as she pushed herself back up, the budging feeling of her basket restricting her arm movement present, but… the weight of her clothing was gone. 

And, when she glanced down at her body, it was confirmed that she was bare.

As in, no clothes, no underwear, no bra or panties.

Y/n shrieked.

Who, when, and how had her clothes come off if she hadn’t taken them off herself? She ignored the fact that she was in the fairy realm to cover herself with her hands, glancing up to see who may have seen her, only to view a landscape unlike any other.

Rolling hills, seemingly endless with giant trees on top of each one, bigger than the ones she had slept alongside, with flower-filled valleys and and a crystalline river that cut a path through a hill and disappeared into an arch of trees. Children with elvish features stared up at her from the nearest valley, blue flowers littered in their hair to match the pink color tinted in their cherub cheeks. Brown ad white rabbits alike roamed around her, does grazed in the meadows. The sun was nestled in the horizon, just barely peeking in the dip of two hills, sky the same glittering golden color the portal had been. Everything was untouched by technology. No building or antenna towers, but homes in tree trunks or underneath giant mushrooms.

The faeries were staring at her. All with features a human would posses, but a certain other-worldy-ness regular people didn’t posses.

They were all beautiful, with full lips and striking eye colors to match their leafy outfits pertaining to their niche. Two of them ran up the hill on which she sat, edgy grins on their lips as they approached her with their hands behind their backs. One was dressed in the fluffy feathers of a peacock, black hair slicked back and tucked behind his ears, curving up at the nape of his neck. The feathers draped over his shoulders and fanned around his arms, ending just at the end of his wrists so the his hands showed; talons in the place of nails. His lips were beak like, the cupids bow dragging over his bottom lip to imitate a bid’s curved mouth. The other man standing next to his was dressed just the same, except that he had no hair and his ears curved like a ram’s above his head.

Suddenly, her pig friend jumped onto her lap, and began the same squealing as before. Urgent and forbidding, pressing his rump back into her, but leaning forwards as if to ward them off.

“You again, Angus?” The one with the ram horns said, quirking his eyebrow into a perfect arch at the same time his tilted in that direction, giving him a graceful yet mechanical look. Intimidating and cold. His voice was equal to the ear-splitting sound of a fork against plate.

The other one spoke. “How’d you get away from Harry this time, you littl-”

“Pias and Rye? You best stop right there!” Another voice spoke, making y/n twist her heard towards where a crowd had formed in the nearest valley. Mostly creatures with childish features, holding fruits of bunches of petals to their bare chests.

There was a woman, with curly red hair and striking blue eyes. Droplets of water seeped from her skin, collecting at the dress she was wearing, which looked like rippling bodies of water floating above her skin, the placed surrounding her most intimate areas a darker color of water, whereas everything else was translucent. A blob of liquid floated near her head; a crystalline globe of water that contained a golden koi fish that moved on its own around it’s companion, swirling around her unruly red coils of hair.

“Well if it isn’t-”

“I’d shut it, if I were you. Just wait until he hears that you weren’t going to follow protocol. Now, leave.” At her emphasis, her grey eyes flashed bright white momentarily, scaring even y/n, but fulfilling their purposes in warding off the other two fairies. They turned around and left with their prides damaged, turning back to look every other step.

The woman turned to look at y/n, her face transformed into a welcoming smile.

“Hello, my name is Marianne, Welcome to the Fae realm.”

       *                                                *              *

                                                  *                                **

Marianne took y/n to the river, opposite the way the two other faeries left, and clapped her hands to snap everyone's’ gazes away, while y/n listened to every command with no hesitation.

One their way to the river, y/n was covered in monarch butterflies that flew from a nearby bush, arranging themselves like a skirt on her hips, their wings twitching and fluttering with every step she took. Her top half was taken care of by her pig friend, whom she learned was called Angus, which she clutched to her chest like when they walked around the mushrooms.

Marianne apologized for the other faeries’ behavior, and led her into a giant water lily, holding her hand as she stepped in. The large green leaf coasted down the river, giving y/n a proper sight-seeing experience. They passed by tree roots that elevated above the water’s surface, and passed through the center of a hill like a tunnel. The golden skies seemed to place a filter on everything it touched, making it look like the water held diamonds, and the dew on other floating lilies were pearls. Leafy branched from willow trees on the river bank reached out to touch the newcomer, caressing y/n’s bare shoulder’s as she passed. She watched it all happen with parted lips, intoxicated by the luxurious feeling of magic pouring over her; skin coated in remnants of glittering water from the tips of the tree leaves that dipped in water.

So fixed on the trees and their giant glory, y/n didn’t see the stone castle coming into view from behind the passing green hill; the river turning into the castle’s moat, floating alongside the uneven stone walls patterned different colors from time, sun, and water, but magnificent in it’s ancient glory.

The girl noticed Marianne staring at her, and in her embarrassment, she turned around to attempt to compose herself, but her efforts were thrown away when her eyes found the castle. Romantic, rustic walls covered in curtains of ivy that grew all around. Blinking, y/n gasped as the lily pad came to a stop right before the entrance of the tunnel underneath the bridge, and rose to meet it. She glanced down to see they were off the river’s surface, level with the top of the stone arch. Marianne stepped off, her bare feet stable on the path and she extended a hand for y/n to grab onto.

Stunned, she took hold of the woman’s wet grip, and followed after her, throwing her head back to view the entirety of the castle. Windows with no glass carved rows into the walls, allowing sun to stream in to the rooms and halls. The drawbridge lowered for the two guests, dropping with a loud rustling of chain.

Walking across is at, goosebumps possessed her skin, and she felt the shameful, poking sensation of being exposed settle in her breastbone. Castles meant kings and queens; she was being brought to the king and she was practically naked.

Her chest rose, and her stomach filled filled nervous breaths. Her pals became moist against Angus’s furry one, who seemed calm and sated with the whole ordeal. 

Once across the drawbridge, they were met with an open courtyard framed by the castle walls, a cobblestone path leading to an arched entrance, where Marianne followed The courtyard was full of wild grass up to her ankles, stone arches in the middle of the scene, with rope swings and flowers hanging down, ominously still. A bench centered in an arrangement of statues of men in heroic poses holding harps and arrows, a floating body of water in the place of a fountain. Much, much more attracted the girls curious eyes, but Marianne pushed past a curtain of foxgloves, and led her into the castle hall and her view was cut off, dragged into... the throne room.

The throne room clearly because in the center of the sun-lit room, there was a throne covered with wild flowers where the king sat, legs spread and back against the seat as he listened a subject speak.

He wore a red ensemble, by-far the most magnificent of anyone in the room. Transparent garments the color of cranberries draped on the broad expanse of his olive-skinned shoulders, waves of the material hanging loosely on his hard biceps, a tassel tied around his waist to taper an accentuate the strong muscles seen through the garment. The cloth bunched at his groin, and fell in folds around his muscular thighs and down his calves, stopping at his ankles and exposing his bare feet.

His fingers tapped rhythmically on the arm of his throne, each finger falling after the other, adding to the powerful aura of his character. Plump lips colored that matched the tone of the nipples that poked through the thin fabric on his chest, mouth arranged into a hard, concentrated line as he listened. Eyebrows dipped just slightly, drawing attention to the vibrant emerald eyes that gleamed in the sun that illuminated his castle. Structured jaw that twitched with the movement of his lips, leading down to the delicate skin of his neck, equally delectable as the rest of him.

Y/n knew he was the king by the tell tale crown that rested on his head. A golden wrap of laurel leaves that nestled on the caramel curls that were pushed back and away from his face.

She wasn’t aware that she was holding her breath, until he glanced up and locked eyes with her. His eyes brought instant relief to her, her body uncoiling, lungs releasing the air their were holding. His lips pulled up into a pleasant smile that made her heart leap and causing one to appear on her face, too. Oddly, she felt safe the instant her eyes landed his, the green sating all of her doubts.

“Marianne? And Angus? Angus is that you?”

Angus jumped from y/n’s arms, landing on the stone floor with a snort and running over to meet the king, jumping into his arms and nuzzling his snout into the king’s face.

The absence of the pig in her arms, left her breasts bare for all to see, and given y/n was transfixed by the king’s voice, smooth like honey with a beautiful scratch that was pleasing to listen to, she didn’t rush to cover herself.

Meaning the king, and the subject he was speaking to, had the time to look at the curves of her chest.

An unreadable look took over the king’s face, and he frowned down at the floor before saying, “You may leave now, Rives.”

The subject cleared his throat, and rushed out at his king’s command. He snapped his fingers, and two of the butterflies on her legs flew up and covered her nipples with their wingspan.

“Your Majesty,” Marianne bowed, and y/n looked over at her before doing the same thing, awkwardly curtsying and the king’s lips quirked at her attempt. “I found her with Pias and Rye. They planned to trick her, Your Highness.”

“Very well, Marianne. You may leave now.” He said. The woman bowed and left without turning back, leaving y/n alone with the king.

A moment passed, ensuring the water fairy had left before he began to speak again, leaning forward on his throne and smiling fully at the human. Y/n instantly took note of the dimple on his cheek, and she blushed at the simple fact that he was looking at her while she was so exposed.

“Oh! My apologies, surely you’d like some clothes wouldn’t you?” He asked rhetorically.

Y/n nodded sheepishly, and crossed her arms over her torso.

“Right, well let’s see.” He stood, letting Angus on the floor with a small pat to his head, and walked off into another archway on the left side of his throne, mumbling “come, come” to get y/n to follow him. She walked behind him, shamelessly grazing her eyes over his back, adoring the way his muscles dimpled his shoulder blades, and hating the way she can’t see the cleft of his buttocks of the strategic bunching of the fabric, the color darkening and making it hard to see through it.

The archway led to a short hall of portraits and moss-covered head statues, before opening to a steep staircase, which the king stepped on, going all the way up and choosing the right branching of stairs from the landing. By the time they reached the top, y/n was huffing and her thighs ached from the walks in the forest.

The stairs opened to a hallway of rooms, and the king entered the third on the right, revealing a sun-lit room. The corner closest to the window was covered in tree tranches, twigs extending and branching along the pink colored wall, small leaves and flowers twisting up to the roof, splaying over the bed to create a net of petals around the fame of it.

He led her to the center of the room, and sat one of the chests. She stood nervously, unsure of where to take her place because she didn’t want to offend him. It was easy to do that with faeries.

“Stand right there,” he pointed to an elevated tree stump opposite of him.

Y/n felt the butterflies flutter wildly at the drastic movement of her knee hiking up, and her ears burned red when she felt cool air blow on her intimate area.

“Now turn to face me.” She turned, and came face to face with the king, who sat with his ankles crossed, and hands clamped between his thighs, back straight.

He removed a hand, and snapped once.

Instantly, the butterflies flew off of her body, and out the window.

Y/n yelped, and rushed to cover herself, forearm over her breasts, palm at her mound.

“M’lady I need you straight so I can adorn you with clothing. I’d have someone else do it, but it’s just me here.” The king said, voice a whisper. His eyes drooped, eyebrows slanting and softening his whole demeanor.

Y/n would have responded, said something to protect her modesty, but she was just too out of it. Her brain running on autopilot by the events that had occurred, that she went pliant under his orders and obeyed. She wasn’t even ashamed anymore. 

The king’s fingers moved along her figure from a distance, twiddling across her body, and as he did so, a milky glitter grew upwards from the tree stump, wrapping around her calves and up her thighs, tightening just lightly at her hips, and resting snugly up her torso. Setting on her shoulders, she blinked slowly at the finished product, her tongue too tied to attempt a dreamy woah.

He had dressed her in a silk toga, the material so light it felt like she was wearing nothing.

“There we go!” He cheers, another small smile gracing his lips, melting y/n.

“I am most appreciative, Your majesty.” She bowed her head respectfully, her hands coming to fold at her navel.

“It is alright to say thank you. M’trying my absolute best to dilute a lot of the negative stigma around my people, but with fools like Pias and Rye it’s nearly impossible.” He stops, shaking his head to himself before looking back up and saying, “And you can call me, Harry.”

“Nice to meet you, Harry, my name is y/-” before she could finish her sentence, the Fairy King interrupted her with a green flare of his eyes, heat radiating off his translucent cranberry ensemble, licking her skin with warnings of heat. 

“I don’t want to know your name.” He said, his voice changing from jovial to demonic.  His eyes pinch closed, and his shoulders tense, momentarily reeling himself back in, and the licks of heat turn a soothing cool. “Please, not yet.”

Harry sounds nearly broken, pained by the restriction.

“I-”  y/n started. She collected herself, taking a deep breath before saying, “I understand.”

His eyes opened again, and uncertain fire blazing in the green of his irises. “Do you? Do you really?” Harry’s tone is mocking, angry. He’s mad, but not at her and she knows that. Deep down inside her, she knows this is him baring himself, this is him slipping her a piece of information, and she’s grateful they get to start off an a truth slate, but not at the way he’s presented himself.

He’s got no right to talk to her that way, she feels.

“Yes! I do understand! It’s the reason why I’m here!” She fires back at him, her nostrils flaring, and eyes wide. By the time she’d finished with her aggravated statement, her chest is heaving.

Both go quiet, the revelation heavy between them. Harry realizes that one, he’s been extremely rude, and two, he and this girl may be more alike that he thinks.

“Why are you here?” He asks, his face doing the thing again, there his eyes droop downwards like a puppy’s when it’s begging. Soft. tender.

Y/n takes a deep breath, and begins. “I need to escape. If.. if I stayed even a moment longer I wholeheartedly believe I would have died. Everyday was a mindless drone, and it was eating at me. I came to ask for permanent residence in your realm.”

When Harry doesn’t respond, y/n crosses her arms over her chest, and picks at the skin of her elbow nervously. Her throat closes up and eyes well up with tears. But, she’s not sad. She’s overwhelmed with emotion because for the first time, she’s admitted it out loud; formulated into a coherent thought instead of a general feeling.

The king, touched by her vulnerability, gets close enough to her that so he can uncross her arms to stop the girl from harming herself. This stranger, so unexpectedly placed into his world, understood him. She knew what it was like to go unnoticed; to not get what she wanted out of life. But to risk forever? Is that really what she wanted? 

“I do not know if this much of a wise decision. The rules of my realm are diff-”

Y/n grips at his arms, her eyes pleading and her tone desperate. “Please,” tears slip from her eyes, and neck veins protrude in stress, “You don’t understand. The past day has given me more than I’ve ever received from my life. Do you know much happiness Angus has given me? Or standing on a lily pad while trees touch my shoulders? Let me stay.”

She’s shaking him, grip so tight her nails make crescent marks in his skin.

“Do not cry, my lady,” he begs, voice just barely audible. “You must understand the severity of your words. This lifestyle is not a situation in which you can change your mind when your heart so pleases. The fairy life is forever.”

“I don’t care. I will die, if I go back.”

“Your species will perish either way. Humans are destined to die.” He stated in a matter-of-fact tone. At this, y/n drops in a heap of desolation, and places her face in her hands, shoulders shaking her sobs.

Her begging, her uprooting, was all for nothing. Her hopes were crashing, she wouldn’t survive this fall.

The strings of Harry’s heart pull ferociously at him, his instinct telling him he has to help her. He has to. Even if it goes against everything faeries stand for. He was king, he could do whatever he wished

He bent down, his feet bending at the toes in a crouch, and he placed a hand on the girls wrists, pulling them away from her face so he could see her when he uttered the words, “But, I will give you three days.”

At that moment, y/n thinks he looks magnificent. A curl has slipped from the crown’s grip, falling to rest over his left eye, and his eyes sparkle with golden specks of the sun that slip past y/n’s shoulders and his face. Shadows ghost over the left side of his face, accentuating the right side, and y/n sees for the first time, the small moles on his chin, and the bags underneath his eyes. Bags that come from nights of no sleep. 

She knows because she had them too.

“Three days?” It comes out wet, her voice thick with the saliva that had collected in her mouth, and the mucus at the back of her nose.

“A period of time for you to be sure of this choice. A human can go three days without food or water, and I wish for you to have the most time possible. You cannot eat or drink, because by fairy law you are bound to stay the moment it passes your throat. I will not allow a forced decision. This is a choice you must make on your own.” When y/n’s eyes began to fall, the king placed a warm hand on her cheek, drawing her eyes back to him. He needed to know she was sure, and her eyes would let him know everything.

She was sure. She was very sure, and he could see that. More than that, she was even irritated he’d make her wait that long.

“Three days?” She asked

“Three days.”