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gojozaiacc · 1 year

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ahoy, Buggy The Clown

LA!!Buggy the clown x fem!!assassin!!reader summary: y/n works for a very underground league of pirate assassins. They aren't too known and that was exactly how they liked to keep it. y/n had been with them as long as she could remember- killing whoever she was told to for money. But her next target was going to change her life. tw!! violence, sexism

The air was still as y/n walked through the destroyed village. A younger version of herself might have found this entire picture hard to look at- but being in this business has left her numb to it all.

Her target is a man called Orson. Known for the large scar going through his right eye and stretching down to his neck- Orson is a well-known and incredibly violent pirate. The person who hired her was a victim of his violence and was going to pay her handsomely for Orson's head on a stick.

The only issue was that Orson was a part of a crew named The Buggy Pirates, captained by someone who went by Buggy The Clown. Of course, y/n knew who he was, she wasn't completely ignorant. The clown has a 15,000,000 berry bounty hanging over his head.

But y/n hadn't been hired to go after the pirate captain- so she wouldn't be going after him.

She paused in her step when spotting a large circus tent ahead of her, it was the only thing in the entire village that wasn't levelled to pieces. Figuring that, that was where she was probably best heading to, she begin walking in its direction.

She's not an idiot so she had already unsheathed her sword from the sheath strapped to her back. Holding it out in front of her, she inched closer to the tent, listening closely for any footsteps that may be inside or behind her.

Lifting her hand, she lifted her mask up so it was covering the lower half of her face, her dark eyes were the only thing visible. Her mask and suit were dark so she could easily slip into the shadows if she needed to.

With one last inhale through the nose, she raised her sword and pushed the curtain to the side with the blade. It wasn't incredibly dark inside the tent but it also wasn't filled with light. In fact, the only source of light in the tent was the large spotlight down the centre of the wide room.

Her eyes scanned the room as she headed further and further in. But she wasn't seeing anyone. The tent was empty. Or it appeared to be empty.

But she knew there was no way that Orson wasn't in this tent. The tent was the only shelter for miles that wasn't destroyed- if Orson wasn't here then he was stupid. She had been tracking him for days, there was no way he wasn't here somewhere.

As she advanced further into the tent- she finally took notice that she was standing in a circus tent. She knew that the captain, Buggy, was rather fond of circus acts- he even dressed as a clown to complete the aesthetic. Or she assumed he did based on the picture on his wanted poster.

She paused in her step. Normal people don't tend to hear things that normal people don't usually hear, they don't need to. But an assassin? they have to be ready for anything and so they heighten their senses to the best of their abilities. One of these senses being their hearing.

Her pupils went small as she spun around, her sword pointed in the direction of the sound. However, she will admit, she wasn't expecting to see the captain, himself, standing there.

He looked just like his wanted poster. The same crazed grin, same big red nose, same circus clown makeup, same over-the-top pirate hat. He was taller than she expected him to be.

"Show's not on for another 5 hours, sweetheart."He mocked, taking a step forward- not caring about the sword pointed at him. But y/n, yet again, wasn't here for the clown.

And so she dropped her sword, clearly taking Buggy by surprise. --"Nice nose."She simply said from behind her mask. Irritation sparked behind the clown's eyes as he squinted at her.

"What?"He spat, thinking that she was making fun of him. But she wasn't. She only hummed and gestured to his face. --"Your nose. It's real, right?"She paused for a few seconds before shrugging her shoulders. --"It's cool."

This made the pirate captain pause for a second. He wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. y/n, though wasn't threatened by the man standing before her, never slid her sword back into its sheath.

"Orson."She said the target's name lazily, --"Where is he?" Buggy lifted a gloved finger to his chin, tapping it mockingly. --"Now that-"He paused, grinning menacingly, --"would be telling."He finished.

It's a good thing that y/n is a highly trained assassin, right?

The second Buggy had stopped his sentence she was spinning around with her sword raised at the defence just as another sword clashed against it.

And there stood the man she was here to kill, Orson. He was significantly taller than her, wore a red and white jester hat and his arms were bigger than her head. His scar was also a lot more intimidating than she had been told- it looked incredibly painful and led her to wonder what could have possibly given it to him.

But despite all of that- she still wasn't scared of him. In fact, if anything, that made her much more cocky. y/n was the very best at overcoming the odds.

I mean, why do you think she was given this target by her boss specifically? she's the only one suited for this type of hit.

She sprang back, using her athleticism to her advantage. Orson was attacking her top half- roughly might I add. Since that was the place he was striking- she decided to go low.

Whilst the jester and the assassin fought, the clown captain walked around to lean against a barrel. He was rather interested in the masked woman currently getting the better of his freak.

Springing back on her hands, she rolled to her knees where she swung her sword at the front of his feet, slicing the skin on impact instantly. Orson yelled out in pain and stumbled forward.

Annoyed, he rammed forward and wrapped his arms around the smaller woman- squeezing her as tightly as he could manage- lifting her off of her feet. Her spine started to creak causing her to let out a grunt of pain and swing her legs forward.

Pressing her feet to his chest she flipped backwards out of his grasp, but not before he grabbed ahold of her mask and clutched it in his fist with hatred.

Now she had no face protection and Orson was able to get a good look at what she looked like. But so did Buggy.

She wasn't what Buggy was expecting. y/n was a tanned woman with a small face and a mess of thick plum-purple hair. Her tanned skin was smooth despite the many small scars that littered her cheeks as well as one going through her right eyebrow. Fitting that her eyes were the darkest eyes Buggy had ever seen, given her profession.

Orson let out a pained laugh as he gestured to her. --"You are but a little girl and you expect to kill me? I could squish you like a bug, "He laughed and slapped a hand against his chest. --"Do you know who I am?!"He snapped as she fixed her footing.

He continued to stare at her- expecting a response but he didn't get one. Instead, she chuckled and gestured for him to come at her with a 'come here' hand gesture, a wide smirk on her lips.

Another annoyed look appeared on his face as he rushed towards her. With a grin of adrenaline, y/n ducked out of the way of his rapidly approaching forearm. When he spun around to strike her she swung her sword- successfully slashing his throat.

Orson completely went numb, his eyes going wide as his hands reached up towards his gushing throat. His half-dead eyes flickered over to his pirate captain who watched carelessly, his arms folded.

"C-Captain....-"He mumbled pathetically through gurgles as he collapsed to his knees. y/n completely ignored Buggy's existence as she kneeled down in front of Orson, lifting her hand so she was gripping the back of his head- tilting it back so he was forced to look at her.

"I'm actually 30..."She hummed in a bored tone- as if she didn't just slash his throat. --"Not a little girl."She clarified with a tight grin as she reached into her thigh holster, pulling out a dagger.

"Sarah sends her regards."She told him, speaking the name of the person who had hired her. And then, without a second thought, she slashed his throat again- this time much deeper. Blood splashed onto her face and she smirked and shoved Orson's dead body forward so he crashed to the ground.

Tilting her head to the ground, she reached for her mask only for something or rather, someone to beat her to it. Suddenly, a hand, and only a hand, flew from out of nowhere and grabbed ahold of her mask.

With furrowed eyebrows, she watched the hand fly right over her head and over to Buggy who now didn't have a right hand. She figured that he must have eaten a devil fruit at some point in his life- that would be why he could detach himself.

But she didn't care about that. She cared that he now had her mask in his returning hand. He grinned at her. --"Forget about me?"He questioned sarcastically as she stood her full height and walked towards him.

She really didn't want to kill this clown, not if she didn't have to. She wasn't tasked to kill Buggy so she wouldn't.

"I like you."He told her, pointing a finger at her. He held her mask over his head so she couldn't grab at it. --"I think..."He paused to lean forward a little so his nose was practically touching hers. --"I'll keep you."He declared.

She squinted at him. Her eyes flickered all over his face for a moment, never moving away from his uncomfortably close face. "I just killed one of your crewmates."She reminded him with raised eyebrows. --"What makes you think I won't kill you?"She hummed, folding her arms and taking another step closer to him if that was even possibly.

They were practically all up in each other's space, but neither of them seemed to care.

He laughed in response and leaned closer to boop her nose with his free finger. --"Because you couldn't kill me even if you tried."He grinned cockily. He then smacked his hands together and took a massive step back away from her.

"Now!"He exclaimed excitedly. --"How about we add some excitement to your life."He giggled, grinning widely. He then lifted his left arm, revealing that he no longer had his left hand.

And just as y/n was about to question him, there was a tap on her shoulder. This was completely out of the ordinary for her- she could hear people sneaking up on her- but how exactly was she supposed to hear floating body parts?!

There was Buggy's left hand, and it was clutching something. With a squeeze- a red cloud of smoke surrounded her head. She didn't even have time to comprehend what was happening before her eyes were rolling to the back of her head and she was beginning to lose consciousness.

The last thing she heard was Buggy laugh and say, --"We're going to have so much fun together!"

#fanfic #fanfiction #fypage #buggy the clown #buggy one piece #x reader #buggy the clown imagines #buggy the genius jester #one piece #netflix #imagines #oneshot #netflix series #live action #one piece series #jeff ward #captain buggy #lfl

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starlightkun · 1 year

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❧ word count: 8.8k ❧ warnings: cursing, uh reader gets called like a fantasy slur?, this one really focuses on the concept of ‘othering’ in this society and how it manifests in and around jeno and reader’s werewolf/human relationship ❧ genre: fluff, angst but like from outside sources (see warnings), modern magical creatures au, fantasy au, college au if you squint again, werewolf jeno, human reader, ft. werewolf sungchan, human renjun, and dryad jaemin, same universe as strawberry sunday, sequel to pupsick ❧ extra info: this is a sequel to pupsick! it theoretically could be read as a standalone with minimal confusion but i highly recommend you read pupsick first to see how these two crazy kids got together this work is set in the same universe as strawberry sunday! there is no continuing plotline between fics in this universe (aside from pupsick to this one), they simply take place in the same world/magic system and may have overlapping characters (neos may pop up in more than one work!)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ explore the strawberry sunday universe more here!

“Welcome!” Renjun smacked the tip of his lecture pointer against his TV screen. You jumped a little at the sound. “To your exclusive History of Werewolf-Human Romance crash course taught by yours truly!”

“Waah!” You yelped as you were quite literally swept off your feet by a pair of strong arms around your waist, and grabbed onto Jeno’s hands. A surprised giggle bubbled out of you. “Pup! You scared the hell out of me.”

“You were too slow.” Jeno clicked his tongue in feigned disappointment, nosing along from behind your ear down your neck. “I win.”

“As usual,” you sighed, reaching up to scratch your fingers along his scalp. The warmth of him holding you was a welcome one against the wintery chill of December that was fully set in around you. “If you didn’t need enrichment, I might lodge a formal complaint about the equity of these games, you know.”

“A formal complaint? With what authority?”

“Jaemin.”

Before your boyfriend could respond, an angry shout came from across the park, drawing your attention. You felt Jeno’s arms tense around you immediately. You spotted your friend that had come with you two, Sungchan, over by the water fountains, in a less than friendly confrontation with another man. From your viewpoint, the stranger was way out of his depth. Sungchan was a head and a half taller than him, not to mention a werewolf.

“The fuck did you just say?” Sungchan pushed the guy, who looked about your age, back by the chest. The other guy didn’t say anything, but didn’t move to back down either. Jeno let you go, but only to put himself between you and the other two, despite the distance that was already there.

“I said, say it again, to my fucking face this time, asshole,” your friend practically snarled at him and stepped forward, his fists clenched and teeth bared.

Jeno looked conflicted about leaving you or helping your friend. But before he had to make a choice, the shorter man turned on his heel and stormed off. Sungchan watched until he was completely off the premises before he rejoined you and Jeno. Your friend’s fists were still clenched in anger, and you noticed a prominent vein on his forehead that wasn’t always there.

“What did that guy say, Sungchan?” You asked him softly. You’d never seen your typically good-natured friend get worked up like that. He was always a rather calming presence, especially in contrast to the other excitable wolf with you.

“It wasn’t just some guy, it was another werewolf,” Jeno informed you, though his focus was also on the taller man.

Sungchan stretched his neck out, letting out a sharp sigh. “Yeah, he was a werewolf. He… he called you a knotslut, Y/N.”

You felt your jaw drop as Jeno immediately spat out, “He fucking what?”

“I can assume that’s not a compliment…” You said quietly, though you’d never heard the word yourself before.

“No, it’s not.” Sungchan crossed his arms, and his features softened as he looked down at you. “It’s an obviously derogatory term for a non-werewolf—usually human, and almost always a woman—who only dates werewolves specifically because of the more wolf-ish aspects of us.”

“Or just any human woman who’s with a werewolf.” Jeno pulled you closer to him with an arm around your waist. “I am so, so sorry Y/N—”

“Jeno, shh, shh. It’s not like you’re the one who called me that.” You waved off his apology. “I just… forget sometimes, that this is still kind of all new. Humans and magical creatures all living together.”

“That doesn’t make it okay for him to have called you that, Y/N,” Sungchan said sternly.

“I didn’t say that it did,” you replied just as firmly. “It was just an unpleasant little reality check, that’s all. Thank you for standing up for me, by the way, Channie.”

“Seriously, dude, thank you,” Jeno echoed your sentiments.

Your friend finally gave a small smile. “Of course. There was no way I was going to sit back and let anybody talk about my friends like that.”

You didn’t like the pensive look that was still on his face, though. “Is there something else bothering you?”

“No, I was just thinking…” He gave you two a sheepish look. “Now don’t get me wrong, I think you two are very cute together, and I truly couldn’t imagine a better match for either of you than the other. But that whole thing that just happened… just really solidified that I think for myself, personally, I’d just rather stick with dating other werewolves. No need to worry about weird werewolf fetishists, and my hypothetical future partner wouldn’t have to worry about dealing with stuff like that. Just a lot simpler, you know?”

You exchanged a look with Jeno. Oh, you two would have a lot more discuss about your thoughts on that later. But for now, to give your friend your lukewarm support.

“Yeah, I mean, you’ve got a couple good points,” you offered politely. “Obviously, I want you stay away from weirdos.”

“But…” Jeno hopped in where you had implicitly left off. “Don’t accidentally swear off happiness in your search for something simple.”

“You sound like a fortune cookie, Jeno,” Sungchan snorted. “I take it back, being in love is rotting your brain.”

“He’d need a brain to rot in the first place.” You gently knocked on your boyfriend’s forehead for emphasis, giggling as he scrunched his eyes and nose.

When Jeno hadn’t made any kind of comeback or retort, the taller werewolf asked incredulously, “Seriously? You don’t have anything to say to that, man?”

“She’s right,” Jeno shrugged and knocked on his own head this time. “I’m just a big dumb pup, remember?”

“You two are insufferable,” Sungchan groaned, looking up at the sky in facetious misery. “Why did I agree to hang out with you guys without a fourth wheel?”

You laughed. “Because you and Jeno wanted to play soccer. And you two have officially worn me out, so why don’t you play while I take a nice long sit on the bench?”

“Fine.”

As you watched Jeno and Sungchan kick a soccer ball back and forth, you hugged your knees to your chest on a bench overlooking the soccer field, glad that it hadn’t snowed lately so your butt was staying dry. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you took it out to see who was calling.

“Hey, Renjun,” you answered brightly.

“Hey, Y/N. Are you guys still at the park?” Your friend asked, and you could distantly hear the sound of his footsteps echoing behind him. You’d sent a blanket invite out to several of your friends for this afternoon, but Sungchan had been the only one that was able to make it initially.

“Yeah. The guys are playing soccer. I’m taking a break.”

“Do you think you’ll be there much longer? I finished up my essay early so I figured I could join you.”

Oh, he must be in the parking garage on campus.

“Of course! Channie was just complaining about third-wheeling alone anyway.”

“What were you and Jeno doing?”

“Long story, I’ll tell you when you get here.”

“Oh great,” he said sarcastically. “I’ll be there in ten.”

“See you, Renjun!”

“Bye.”

“So Renjun’s coming?” Jeno called out, holding a hand up to cast a shadow over his eyes.

You nodded, knowing that Jeno had only been able to parse out your half of the conversation from the distance he was at. “Yeah, he said he’ll be about ten minutes.”

Your boyfriend gave you a thumbs up before turning back around just in time to avoid a ball that Sungchan had kicked right at his head. “Dude!”

“Like I said! Being in love’s rotting your brain, Lee Jeno!” Sungchan yelled back, throwing his hands up in a grand ‘I-don’t-know’ gesture. “And your reflexes!”

“And I’m telling you, I don’t got a brain to rot, Jung Sungchan!” Jeno jogged after the soccer ball, lining up to kick it in an impressive arc back to the other werewolf.

Renjun showed up fifteen minutes later and plopped down on the bench beside you with a zealous huff. You didn’t even need to ask what happened.

“God, half the morons at our college don’t know how to drive!” He stretched his arms over the back of the bench, rolling his neck out. “And the other half are just jumping into traffic willy-nilly like they’re trying to get ran over or something!”

“Deep breath, Renjun, deep breath.” You patted him on the shoulder.

“As soon as I graduate, I’ll take the biggest, deepest beath of my life, I promise.”

“And until then?”

“Until then, I’m white-knuckling the steering wheel with one hand and laying on the horn with the other.”

You laughed heartily. “That’s one way to go about it I guess.”

“But how are you doing, Y/N?”

“Oh, fine. Something kind of… weird, I guess, happened earlier, though.”

“Weird?”

You squinted your eyes at the two werewolves now at the opposite end of the soccer field as before, trying to guesstimate if that was enough distance for your conversation to not be picked up by their superhuman hearing. To be safe, you leaned in towards your human friend and lowered your voice.

“There was this other werewolf here, and he said something about me and Jeno.” You admitted.

Renjun tilted his head curiously. “Said what?”

“Well, more specifically, he called me a-a knotslut?” The word felt unfamiliar in your mouth, and left a bitter taste on your tongue. Your lip curled unpleasantly at the memory it brought up.

His eyes widened as he looked around in alarm, then dropped his own voice to a whisper, “So where’s the body? Because there’s no way Jeno would’ve let someone that called you that leave alive.”

“Jeno wasn’t the one who heard him say it,” you clarified. “Sungchan did. Jeno and I were busy goofing off. Channie had gone to refill his water by the bathrooms and apparently the guy said it over there by him.”

“He probably thought that Sungchan was going to agree with him.”

“Must’ve been a shock for him when Sungchan almost bashed his face in himself.”

Renjun burst out in a full-bodied laugh. “Oh, I’m sure it was.”

“But, I want to ask you something, Renjun. Since you’re here.” You turned on the bench to fully face your human friend.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“You’re a Magical Creatures Studies major. Me and Jeno… it’s not that weird, right? Like, new, I mean? There’s got to be more of a history to humans and magical beings being together than six months ago.”

“Oh there absolutely is!” Renjun’s eyes sparkled as he straightened up in his seat. “I’m actually finishing up a class on Interspecies Marriage right now! Did you know that the earliest written record we have of a traditional werewolf mating ritual between a human and werewolf is nearly two thousand years old?”

“Wait, really?” You weren’t expecting that much precedent. Maybe a couple hundred years, not a couple thousand.

“Yeah! And as for how we would conventionally think of marriage today between a human and werewolf, that still goes back at least 800 years for official written historical records. And that’s just written. There’s oral traditions of entire packs that were equal parts human and werewolf that are much, much older with archaeological evidence to back it up.”

“Archaeological? Like, bones?”

“Well, yeah. But also artifacts of their villages. Things that—”

A movement in the periphery of your eye made you whip your head up to look back at the field. Jeno and Sungchan were leisurely walking over towards you two, the former carrying the soccer ball. You smacked Renjun’s knee to shut him up as quickly as possible. Offended, he seemed to nevertheless get the idea, thankfully, and stopped his never-ending stream of facts.

You smiled up at the two werewolves as they stopped beside you two. “Done already?”

“Just coming to say hey to Renjun,” Jeno informed you as Sungchan grabbed a bag that was next to the bench.

“Hey, guys,” Renjun greeted them.

Sungchan fetched a couple water bottles that were inside, tossing one to Jeno, who caught it one-handed. He then set the soccer ball down by his feet to twist the bottle open.

“And hydrate,” the taller wolf added.

The human rolled his eyes. “Oh. I feel so special now.”

“You guys want to join?” Jeno offered, using his shirt to dab at a bead of sweat on his forehead with the hem. You shamelessly watched his movements. “We can do teams now that we’ve got even numbers.”

“Yeah, werewolves versus humans,” Sungchan suggested with a grin.

“Only if you guys hop on one leg with your hands tied behind your back,” you retorted.

“How are we supposed to kick the ball like that?”

“You can figure it out with your big, non-rotted, pristine brain, Channie. I believe in you.”

“Well not if I’ve got Mr. Fortune Cookie over here making heart eyes at you the whole time.” Sungchan jabbed a thumb in Jeno’s direction, and when you looked over at him, he was already looking at you.

“I’m sorry, I thought you wanted me on your team?” Jeno rounded on him indignantly.

Sungchan shrugged as he finished the rest of his water. “Like you’ll really try if it’s against Y/N.”

Your boyfriend rolled his eyes, but didn’t do anything to dispute the claim. “Fine, then you’re taking Renjun?”

“No. I’m taking Y/N, obviously.”

As you and Sungchan walked out to your own side of the field, you studied him suspiciously.

“Why did you want me on your team?” You asked him, soccer ball in your hands this time. “If you think Jeno and I are too lovey-dovey to compete against each other?”

“Well I took your advice, and I thought about it with my huge, smart, peak condition brain—”

You couldn’t help but laugh in his face at his phrasing, to which he snickered as well.

“—and I figured that even if you don’t give it 110%, you’re still better than Renjun. So not only is Jeno not going to be doing good himself because he’s competing against you, but his teammate kind of sucks too.”

“Ohh, I got you,” you nodded along, which slowly turned into a disbelieving head shake. “I think we need to set you up with someone. You’re too smart for everyone else’s good, your brain’s in need of a little rotting.”

Sungchan turned to you then, squaring his shoulders. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“Hmm, since you’re not a fairy, I’ll hear you out. The terms?”

“If we win and I’m convinced that you actually gave your best against Jeno… then you can set me up on one date.”

“You’re agreeing to a blind date?”

“One.”

“With anybody of my choosing? You won’t back out no matter what they are?”

“I can’t back out of it.”

“And you have to put in an earnest effort, too. You can’t intentionally sabotage it.”

“I can’t back out of it, and I can’t intentionally sabotage it.”

You stuck a hand out to him. “Deal.”

Sungchan took your chilly hand, shaking it with his perpetually warm one. “Deal.”

God you were exhausted. Your legs burned, your eyes were watering from the cold wind, and you sucked in breath after breath of air that nipped at your lungs and seemed to hurt as much as it helped. But finally, someone declared the game over, and that you and Sungchan had won.

You let out an unintelligible, guttural grunt of victory, plopping yourself down onto the grass exactly where you were standing and pumping your fists up into the air from the ground instead. Sungchan jogged up to you, bright grin on his features as he held a hand down to you for a high-five.

“That was awesome, Y/N!” Your teammate celebrated as you weakly slapped your hand down against his. “I told you you were better than Renjun!”

“What? Why was disparaging me even part of your pep talks?” Renjun yelled from afar, tossing his hands up in the air in equal parts bewilderment and offense.

“Y/N!” Jeno ran up to you, skidding to his knees on the ground beside you to throw his arms around you. “Good job! Seriously, you did so good out there! Your passing got better and—”

“See? He’s happier that you won than if he had won.” Sungchan gestured to your boyfriend pointedly.

Through a tired smile, you pecked Jeno on the cheek. “Thanks, pup. You did great, too.”

Then, you turned your focus to the other werewolf still standing above the two of you, the smile dropping from your face. You pointed at him knowingly. “Consider my end of the deal fulfilled now, Jung.”

Sungchan crossed his arms over his chest, not seeming very happy about this, but he didn’t argue. “Fine. Later, okay?”

“Fine…” You gracefully dropped the subject at the moment. After all, you needed time to carefully consider. So for now, you wrapped your arms around Jeno and laughed as he kissed your cheek back two times.

“Hey, what were you and Sungchan talking about, by the way?” Jeno asked as he came into the living room with his after-dinner snack. You were staying at his place tonight to continue binging a show that you, Jeno, and Jaemin had started together.

“When?” You lifted up one side of the fluffy blanket that was on your lap for him to sit down under. Once he had, you immediately scooted closer to rest your head against his shoulder. When he was done eating, he would be the one snuggling up to you like usual, but for now, he did unfortunately have to attend to his inhuman metabolism.

“After we all played soccer. Some deal?”

“Oh, oh, oh!” You sat up straight, excited now. Looking at both Jeno, and Jaemin, who was stretched out on his own couch on the other side of the living room, you announced excitedly, “Sungchan’s letting me set him up on a date.”

“What?” “Seriously?” They blurted out at the same time.

“Yup. The deal was that if I gave 110% in the soccer game against Jeno, and Sungchan and I won, then he’d let me set him up on exactly one date.” You confirmed with a devilish hand rub.

Jeno scrunched his nose up. “How many werewolves do you know, Y/N? I guess I might know some from my pack back home that are nice…”

“That’s the best part. He can’t back out of it or self-sabotage no matter who it is, or what they are. So it doesn’t have to be a werewolf.”

Your boyfriend caught your eye, and you knew that the two of you were thinking the exact same thing. “Oh…”

“Yeah…”

“Hey!” Jaemin snapped his fingers to get your attention. Once you both were looking over at him, despite the fond smile on his face, he made a show of rolling his eyes as he grumbled, “I hate when you two do that. Mind filling me in?”

“Channie’s apparently got this thing about only wanting to date werewolves because it’s easier,” you explained. “You know, no worrying about weirdos who date werewolves because they’re werewolves.”

“And he claims that it’s just not worth any possible… harassment,” Jeno added. He’d apparently polished off his snack while you and Jaemin were speaking, because with two free hands, he pulled you closer to him again, pressing a kiss to your temple. “And after today, I kind of understand why.”

“Jeno, don’t talk like that,” you replied firmly, feeling a lump grow in your throat.

“I don’t agree with him, but I understand him. You don’t want the person you’re in love with to go through something like that. I want to be able to do something to make sure you never have to have someone treat you like that ever again, Y/N. But not if it’s not being with you. That… that doesn’t feel right to me.”

You laced your fingers with the hand of the arm he had around your shoulders, wrapping him even tighter around you. “Of course it doesn’t. Because it’s not right. And you’re not going to do something so stupid, Lee Jeno.”

“I know,” he squeezed your hand.

After a beat of quiet, Jaemin spoke up softly, “Will you… tell me what happened?”

“There was another werewolf at the park today. He called Y/N something awful.”

“What…?”

Figuring it might not be a good idea to say it again around Jeno, especially since your boyfriend apparently couldn’t bring himself to say it either, you jumped in, “Remember how we were just talking about people who only date werewolves because they’re werewolves?”

Jaemin’s face changed from confusion to recognition, then sympathy. “Oh, that’s horrible. I’m sorry, Y/N. That must have been terrible.”

“I’m okay, Jaemin. Thanks.” You smiled encouragingly to your friend. “Now, are we watching the show or…?”

“Yeah, yeah!” The dryad reached for the remote to select your show.

Later, once everyone had retired to bed for the night, you were staring up at the ceiling of Jeno’s bedroom, a discontented frown on your face. Your boyfriend exited the bathroom, flicking the light off behind him and flopping face-first onto his side of the bed. With no hesitation, he rolled over until he could rest his head on your middle. Except you didn’t move your fingers that had been laced together over your stomach as you stewed in your moody thoughts.

A comically confused sound came from Jeno at the unexpected barrier between him and his favorite pillow. And when you still didn’t move them, he lifted his head up to be able to look at you. “Y/N? Baby?”

“Hm?” You finally looked down at him, and registered the weight on your abdomen. You unlaced your hands and lifted them to make room. “Oh, sorry, Jeno. I was thinking.”

“About?” He prompted you as he settled in for his nearly nightly head scratches and rubs (they were only missed on the nights that you didn’t spend together). Your fingers began their habitual carding through his hair one way, then scratching gently along his scalp back the other way.

“When you said you understand Sungchan—”

“Y/N, I said—”

“Please let me finish.”

“You’re right, sorry. Go ahead.”

You sighed, keeping one hand in his hair and trailing the other down to caress his forehead, cheekbone, jaw, then tilted his chin up so he was looking at you.

“You’re both looking at it wrong,” you affirmed, holding his gaze steadily. “You don’t control other people’s actions solely by existing. That guy didn’t call me that today because I’m a human or because you’re a werewolf or because he heard me call you ‘pup’ or any litany of things about you and me. He said it because there’s something wrong with him. He said it because for some reason he just couldn’t imagine any scenario where you and I were simply just happy. And I for the life of me cannot bring myself to give a shit about pleasing people like him. So yes, while I do wish that you would encounter as little strife and hurt and injustice in your life as possible, Jeno, because I love you, I don’t believe for a second that any of it is caused by me loving you. I think that when things like this do happen, it’s caused by other people’s hate.”

Jeno’s throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed, and he slowly nodded, his eyes not leaving yours. His hand came up to cup yours that was cradling his face, his thumb gently rubbing over the backs of your knuckles. You leaned down to press your forehead to his, brushing your noses together.

Now that the fall semester and finals week were over, you were over at Renjun’s place. You had asked him if you could finish your conversation that you were having at the park about werewolves and humans. And truly, you don’t know why you had thought that you two would just grab coffee or something. You shouldn’t have expected anything less than a full-blown PowerPoint presentation from your friend who practically lived, breathed, ate, and slept Magical Creatures Studies.

“Did you just have that laying around?” You asked, referring to the pointer in his hand.

“Yes of course.”

“Of course,” you echoed humorously as you reclined into your seat on his couch. “Anyway, go for it, Renjun. I’m all ears.”

“Okay, so—” He pressed the spacebar on his laptop that was projecting to the TV. The first slide popped up. “Archaeological data. This is where we left off in our conversation. Entire packs have been found that were half human and half werewolf—”

You raised your hand. “Excuse me? Professor Huang?”

“Yes?” He called on you, having fully slipped into his role as lecturer.

“When you say the packs were half human, half werewolf, what do you mean? Like the population statistics were 50% humans and 50% werewolves? Or the individuals themselves were half-and-half genetically?”

“The former. These packs were integrated evenly with humans and werewolves.”

“And you’re saying ‘packs’ specifically. Not villages, or societies, or groups. Why?”

“From what we’ve been able to gather bout how they lived from the artifacts left behind, it seems their social structure more closely mirrored the customs and habits of werewolves than the humans that lived in that same area at the time.”

“So the humans that were in the pack adopted werewolf culture?”

“You’re getting ahead of me,” Renjun beamed at you. “You’re a very perceptive student.”

“Oh. Go ahead, Professor Huang.” You gave him a humble seated bow to proceed with the slide he was on.

“So, the archaeological data itself that was found was, like you said, bones, obviously, but also pots, stone tools, trinkets, even children’s toys or bits of clothing have been found.” He clicked to the next slide. There were pictures of some of the objects he’d mentioned, and a couple more. “This is where it gets interesting. Even if we hadn’t found any human skeletons, we would’ve known that humans had lived there because there were human tools found. Tools that werewolves didn’t need. Like knives to cut their food into bite-sized pieces, and jars that have residue from medicine that we know was used to treat diseases communicable among humans but not werewolves.”

“Wow.”

Next slide. This one had a picture of some objects on one side, pieces of worn leather, smooth colorful stones, and on the other side, a drawing of two necklaces, with matching opalescent stones wrapped securely in them.

“On the left—” he smacked said side with the pointer. “—are the pieces of two leather necklaces that were found with a pair of skeletons that were buried together. The right—” smack “—is an artist’s rendition of what the necklaces most likely looked like originally.”

“They’re beautiful.”

“Werewolves will traditionally bury mates together.”

“Like human couples who buy a plot of land in a cemetery big enough for the both of them before they pass.” You nodded.

“Exactly. This specific pack wasn’t 50/50 werewolves and humans we think. From what we’ve been able to parse out, it was more 80/20, with more werewolves. But they still buried werewolf-human couples together with all the same rites as werewolf couples. This pair right here was a werewolf-human couple.”

You smiled up at the image on-screen, feeling the familiarity of them reach across time to you in that moment. “And the necklaces?”

“It was sort of like a wedding ring-slash-mating claim fusion.” Renjun tapped the two necklaces with zeal again. You were starting to get a little afraid that he was going to damage his TV. “You were asking if the humans in these packs adopted werewolf culture, right? For the most part, yes, they did. They took on all of the werewolves’ culture as their own as far as we can tell. And what they couldn’t do, like eating raw meat, they adapted so they could. Obviously, day to day meals, they’d cook with heat. But many culturally important events held significance in the rawness of the food, so the humans would cure meat in salt ahead of time so they could safely consume it for those instances.”

“What sort of events?”

“The celebration of the solstices, uh mating rituals, burials, any number of things most likely involved the consumption of specifically raw meat as part of the tradition. It was an important staple of the werewolf diet, hence why Jeno has to slam down those protein bars now.”

You chuckled a little bit, able to perfectly picture your boyfriend’s shelf in his pantry that was taken up by boxes upon boxes of protein bars specifically formulated for werewolves. “Ah, yes, the ancestral chocolate peanut butter flavored protein bars.”

“And now you know the important cultural significance of them.” Your friend sighed wistfully, then switched back into his lecture-mode. “Back to the necklaces. So while the humans largely assimilated into werewolf culture, they also introduced a few things of their own. Typically, when two werewolves mate for life, it’s a whole biting and scenting thing and bam— every wolf in a hundred-mile radius gets the message. But human noses and teeth aren’t exactly up to par for that, right?”

“…Right.”

“So these pairs did both.”

“Both?”

“Again, extrapolation, and oral tradition.” Renjun qualified his explanation as he quickly clicked to the next slide, which had bullet points for what he was now laying out to you. “Unlike a normal wound, a werewolf’s mating bite would heal quickly and had no risk of infection, even for a human. But a human couldn’t do that back to the werewolf, and the human can’t really smell that much of a difference. But handmade, matching necklaces with a precious stone? Now that’s something everyone can see and understand.”

You nodded, “Yeah, okay. I get it. You want to make sure that both of you feel honored and loved in however that manifests for each of you, and obviously you want your partner to express their love for you in whatever way feels the most genuine and powerful.”

“Uh… yeah…” Renjun gave you a strange look. “I mean, in the field we look at it as a fascinating example of the blending of different cultures but-but that’s… cool… too…”

You gave him an unamused look before gesturing to the screen and to the left. “Can you go back one?”

He obliged, and you pointed at pictures. “What stone is that? Do you know?”

“Do I know what kind of stone it is?” He scoffed mockingly. “Of course I do, it’s moonstone.”

“Helps werewolves have more control over and less pain through their shift on the full moon.” You smiled as you recognized exactly why the human had chosen it all those years ago. “A perfect choice for the necklace that you intend for your werewolf lover to never take off.”

Your friend put a hand over his heart, looking at you with delight. “I knew you’d like that one. God, I almost don’t want to tell you about the werewolf brothels of the 1600s now.”

“The what?!”

Leaving Renjun’s apartment you were a changed person, but overall better, and now equipped with a lot of useful and important information. Quickly dialing up a contact on your phone, you listened to the line ring one, two times before it was picked up.

“Hey, Y/N!” Jaemin greeted you enthusiastically.

“Hey, Jaemin!” You turned a corner, your destination already in mind. “Are you home?”

“Yeah, Jeno’s at the gym right now but he should be back soon if you want to come over.”

“Actually, I wanted to ask if you wanted to go shopping? With me?”

“So why doesn’t Jeno have any moonstone?” You asked Jaemin as the two of you meandered down the aisles of one of the apothecaries in town. “It seems like something that every werewolf should just be stocked up on.”

Jaemin delicately inspected a few live herbs that were growing in small pots on a windowsill. “Jeno’s… weird about his shifting.”

“Weird how?”

“He doesn’t want anything that’ll make the process like, comfortable at all? For some reason.”

You looked back at him in disbelief. “Jeno? Lee Jeno? We’re talking about the same man who turns into the most pitiful oversized puppy I’ve ever seen when he gets an upset tummy? He wants to unnecessarily suffer once a month, every month?”

The dryad shrugged, “I don’t know what to tell you. I’ve tried to convince him to get some moonstone or at least let me make him a tonic to take beforehand, but I’m sure you know by now how stubborn he can get.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, chewing on your bottom lip. It seemed like your errand was going to be futile.

Sensing your shift in mood, your friend patted your shoulder reassuringly. “I think you’ll have much better luck, Y/N. If there’s one thing that he’s more stubborn about than anything else, it’s how much he loves you.”

“Thanks, Jaemin.”

That apothecary ended up being a bust for moonstone (though Jaemin did rescue a couple new plants that he deemed weren’t being taken of well enough), and you had to head off to the bakery right after that, no time to check out any others that were around.

“Hey, Minseok,” you gave your boss a rather unenthusiastic greeting as you wrapped your apron around you and washed up in the sink.

The sphinx was surprisingly in the back with his own apron on, and not in the office. Whoever was on shift in the kitchen that afternoon must have had to call out today. You just had to come in to prep the doughs and starters that needed to ferment overnight.

“Y/N, good evening,” he waved at you as he packed up a few empty trays. “How are you?”

“Ehh, fine.” You started taking down clean mixing bowls. “And no, I really don’t feel like expounding on that.”

Minseok held his hands up in an easy surrender. “That’s fair. But uh, I feel the need to ask… everything okay with you and Jeno?”

“What? Yeah, yeah,” you reassured him. “Don’t worry, tomorrow’s opening shift is safe.”

“That’s reassuring, but not really why I was asking.” He caught your eye knowingly. Of course, he really did just care.

You nodded, “Thanks, Minseok.”

“Anyway, I didn’t get to do any of my admin work today so—” He untied his apron and hung it on a hook. “Looks like it’s you and me for post-closing tonight.”

“What a party. Me shaping a bunch of loaves of bread and you making Excel spreadsheets.”

Sat on Jeno’s bed that night, you let your head fall forward as his warm hands worked at the muscles of your shoulders and neck.

“God, Y/N, did you not use proper kneading form or whatever bakers do?” He chastised you half-jokingly, thumb finding another knot by your shoulder blade. “How did you get this messed up after one short post-closing shift at the bakery? Did Mr. Minseok put you on a dough hook in one of the mixers or something?”

“That actually kind of sounds like it’d feel good at this point.” Your laugh turned into a groan as he had finally loosened up one area of tightness, then moved onto another.

“Seriously, maybe you should look into some orthopedic footwear or something.”

“My shoes were plenty sensible. I was just too tense today, that’s all.”

“Something on your mind?” Jeno continued massaging as you slowly rolled out your shoulders and neck.

“Yeah…”

“Is it whatever you’ve been scheming up with Renjun and Jaemin?”

You whipped your head around to look at him, wincing as you just undid pretty much everything Jeno had just fixed in your neck. “Ow…”

Your boyfriend sighed, gently turned your head back around, and brought his fingers to the sides of your neck. He gently massaged the pain away again as he kept talking. “I’ll let you keep scheming, baby, but if you want to tell me, I’m all ears. Especially if it’ll keep your occupational hazards to a minimum.”

Now mostly pain free once more, you slowly reached forward for your laptop that was at the foot of the bed, Jeno’s hands falling from your neck to your hips as you did so.

“I want to show you something, pup,” you declared, opening the computer up.

“Okay,” he agreed in a sing-song voice, scooting back to sit against multitude of pillows, bringing you with him.

As Jeno hooked his chin over your shoulder to watch what you were doing, you pulled up a new tab on your computer to do a quick search. You already knew the image that Renjun had showed you earlier was available online; you’d found it when you were explaining your idea to Jaemin at the apothecary. Jeno made a small bewildered ‘hm?’ noise as you typed in “werewolf human burial necklaces,” but ultimately stayed quiet as dozens of academic articles immediately popped up, along with the image of the two sets of remains beside each other, the pieces of the jewelry among them. You clicked on the picture to make it full screen.

“So these—” you pointed to the two skeletons “—are a mated pair from over a thousand years ago, a werewolf and a human. Their pack buried them together just like any other mates.”

“Aw,” Jeno kissed your cheek. “It’s us a thousand years ago.”

You smiled to yourself at that, reaching up to scratch his head approvingly before focusing back on the picture again.

“And they also had these necklaces, with matching moonstones.” You tapped the screen again to draw attention to the gems.

“That’s beautiful, Y/N.” He nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck. “Thank you for showing me this. Really.”

“Jeno…” You twisted to be able to see his face. “Why don’t you have any moonstone?”

You felt him breathe in and back out against your skin, and let him take as long as he needed to gather his thoughts. After a few moments, he sat up straight again, a thoughtful look on his face.

“It’s... kind of hard to explain. But it always felt like, I don’t know, a crutch? Like, I shouldn’t need it?”

“What?” You couldn’t keep the confusion from your voice.

“Saying that out loud, I’m realizing how uh, dumb that is now,” he chuckled sheepishly. “I sort of thought that werewolves before me always went through their shifts without any stuff like that just fine, so why should I need it?”

“Jeno, you realize that sounds like if I said that humans two thousand years ago survived just fine before the discovery of penicillin, so I shouldn’t go to the doctor for antibiotics when I get sick? Right?”

“Y-Yeah...” He grimaced. “Besides, I was wrong about werewolves of the past not using moonstone, clearly.”

He gestured to the picture on your laptop screen, and let out another sigh. “I just wish I knew how we got from packs burying werewolf-human mates together with matching moonstone necklaces to... where we are now.”

“Oh, Renjun has a PowerPoint on it if you really want to know.”

“That’s what you two were doing today? For three hours?”

“Yep.”

“I’ll pass.” He wrinkled his nose. “I think I’ve got a much better teacher right here anyway.”

“This was the first three slides, you know? Bold of you to assume I retained anything else Renjun said after.”

Jeno’s eyes crinkled as he laughed. “That’s fair.”

“So...” You pushed the laptop forward again, then rested your hands over his that were wrapped around your waist. “Will you get some moonstone? I hate to think that you’re suffering every month when you don’t need to.”

“On one condition.”

“And what’s that?”

“We get a matching set.”

You nodded, a soft smile spreading across your face. “Okay. Yes.”

Jeno’s grin was blinding, but you only saw a glimpse of it before you were fully twisting around to throw your arms around his neck. He let you tackle him back into the pillows, pulling you down with him. You laughed as you landed on top of him, his arms holding you tight. You took this as your opportunity to pepper his face with kisses as he always did to you, across his cheeks, and nose, and forehead, until you had a sufficiently giggly werewolf beneath you.

“You were right,” he murmured, the bright grin not falling from his face, but morphing instead into a tender smile as he looked up at you, bringing one hand up to caress your cheek.

“I know I was,” you teased, turning your head to peck the palm of his hand, then turned it back to lean into his touch. “But I have no clue what you’re talking about specifically.”

“Love isn’t pain. It’s what stops the hurting.”

His words went right to your heart, and you could only bite down on your lip and nod so as to not burst into tears then and there. Jeno wrapped both his arms around you again, rolling the two of you onto your sides and tucking you under his chin. You pressed your face into his shirt, basking in how warm and secure and loved you felt and knew you were in that moment. And that Jeno knew he was too. The fact that he knew, he finally got it, and was letting you two put it into practice in your lives, too. Your life, together.

Oh, yep, you were crying. But they were happy tears, loving, loved tears. You were feeling with every fiber of your being.

You breathed in deeply, breathed Jeno in deeply. Being a werewolf, his sense of smell was sensitive, so he didn’t use heavily perfumed products, nor wore any colognes or perfumes himself. So you could just smell clean, fresh Jeno. And he, oh so cleverly, smelled like home, like safety, like love.

When you finally looked up at your boyfriend, he looked down at you so lovingly, you felt another round of tears welling up already. But you held them back just long enough to tenderly brush a stray piece of hair from his forehead, and whisper into the quiet of the night, “I love you, Lee Jeno.”

He pressed a long kiss to your forehead, then murmured back, “I love you too, Y/L/N Y/N.”

Unlocking the back door to Half Moon Bakery the next morning, you flicked the lights on and led the way in with a skip in your step. Jeno trailed in behind you still rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Yeah, he was never going to be a morning wolf, especially when he now insisted on accompanying you when you went in at 4 a.m. to do the pre-opening kitchen prep, instead of coming in for the front opening at 6 a.m. like he used to. You secured your apron around your waist, put on your music, washed your hands, and got to work.

While it was more tiring to have back-to-back post-closing and opening shifts, you tended to prefer being able to bake your own doughs and loaves that you prepared the night before rather than ones that someone else had done. Not that you were necessarily a perfectionist or elitest about it (okay maybe a little bit that), but it was always satisfying to see the end product of something that you had started. To work on something from start to finish.

You hadn’t kept track of time, nor even of where your boyfriend was, until Jeno popped his head into the kitchen—you admittedly hadn’t realized he’d left it—to announce, “T-minus ten minutes until opening.”

“Got it, thanks, baby,” you smiled up at him, hands preoccupied with dusting powdered sugar over some pastries.

When you came to a stopping point with that task, you went to pause your own music, and could finally hear Jeno’s floating in from the front. You took joy in the small delight of Jeno’s voice being carried back too as he conversed with customers, smiling to yourself when you could hear his voice pitch up if he got particularly excited about whatever they were talking about, or drop with confusion as he would ask a customer to repeat an order that either didn’t make sense or he didn’t hear.

As you carried out a tray of cream-filled croissants—matcha flavored and strawberry flavored—you kept your eyes focused on your destination, the display case of pastries up by the register. You knew that these were a popular item, and usually worked to refill them first. There were only two matcha ones and a strawberry left, so it looks like you brought out a fresh batch just in the nick of time.

“Ah, perfect timing, Y/N!” Jeno’s voice made you stop dead in your tracks as you were setting the fresh tray on top of the case and were about to grab the old one.

You stood up straight, looking over at him in alarm. Three young kids, a dryad boy, human boy, and phoenix girl were at the register, barely big enough to see over the counter, accompanied by who you guessed to be the phoenix’s father.

“Hello,” you nodded to them politely, then looked to Jeno for an explanation. “Is something wrong, Jeno?”

“Y/N here is our baker, she makes all the delicious treats you guys eat,” Jeno said to the kids. “Including those brownies you loved so much.”

The adult phoenix spoke up, addressing you, “They loved the limited-edition peanut butter brownies you all had in the summer. They come in and beg poor Jeno here for them almost every day. I’ve tried to explain what limited-edition means to them, but...” He trailed off, giving you a sheepish shrug.

“They were sooo good!” The phoenix exclaimed, clutching her stomach dramatically.

“Why did you take them away?” The dryad asked curiously, a slight pout on his face that matched that of the toad perched on his shoulder.

“Is it ‘cause nobody was eating them? ‘Cause we’ll come eat all of them!” The human gestured to the three kids.

You chuckled, “It makes me really happy that you guys liked them so much. Thank you.”

“I beg her to bring them back all the time too, guys. Never works...” Jeno sighed melodramatically, and you elbowed him in the side.

“I literally made you some last week,” you said to him under your breath through gritted teeth. “Spoiled…”

Your boyfriend simply smiled at you innocently, and you turned your focus back to the children.

“Since I know they were so popular, I will see what I can do, okay?” You told them.

They erupted into cheers, and you found yourself grinning too, feeling your heart warmed to see so much happiness just from your baking. You finished swapping out the trays of croissants as Jeno rang up their order, then you disappeared back into the safety and quiet of the kitchens.

Minseok, whose initial appearance a few hours ago let you know it was 8 a.m., left his office then, grabbing an apron hanging on one of the hooks along the wall.

“Filling in again?” You asked him curiously, taking a fresh pan of bread out of the oven. Must be 11:00 already.

“Johnny called in sick. Or, his roommate called in sick for him. Apparently he accidentally petrified the poor guy,” your boss sighed, washing up in the sink. “He was trying to tell me the petrification usually only lasts ten to thirty minutes so Johnny would be late, but I just told him Johnny could have the day off. Sounds like he’s going to need it.”

You winced sympathetically. Poor Johnny. Mark, Johnny’s roommate, was a friend of Jeno’s, so you were keenly aware of the basilisk’s struggles with his recently developed powers; and Johnny was a new part-time hire at Half Moon, so you had gotten to know the human and had heard from him some of the unfortunate happenstances the two roommates would find themselves in as well. Johnny was at least usually in good spirits about it and seemed to find them funny most of the time.

“Mark’s trying his best…” You tried to put up a lukewarm defense of your boyfriend’s friend.

“I’d appreciate it if he tried a little harder not to petrify my employees.”

You didn’t have a good comeback, and so with that, Minseok took a tray of half-moon dipped cookies that were ready to go into the front with him. Jeno popped back in just a couple minutes later with the empty tray, already snickering.

“It’s not funny,” you pointed at him, warning in your tone. You knew what he was laughing at, surely having asked Minseok why he was working up front today.

“It’s a little funny,” he argued.

“No it’s not.”

“Come on, I bet Johnny thinks it’s funny.”

“And I’m sure Mark is mortified and hates his life right now.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of Mark’s general state of existence,” Jeno pointed out, meandering around the kitchen towards you.

You turned around to face him as he came up behind you, crossing your arms over your chest. “Be nice, pup.”

“Mmm, I’ll consider it,” he teased, standing in front of you and crossing his arms to mimic you. “Why?”

“If you don’t, I won’t ask Minseok if we can bring back the limited-edition peanut butter cup brownie.”

Jeno narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t disappoint those little kids just to teach me a lesson.”

“And, I won’t give you the peanut butter cookie discard I saved you from earlier.”

You saw his face perk up at that. His eyes glanced around the kitchen countertops searching for it. “You saved me one?”

“Well not if you’re going to be mean. I’ll just give it to Mark, sounds like he needs a pick-me-up right now a lot more than you.”

“Okay fine it’s not funny! It’s so unfunny! I definitely didn’t dribble water all over myself when Mr. Minseok told me because I laughed and choked because it was so funny. Because it’s not funny! I promise!” Jeno pleaded with you, uncrossing his arms and grabbing your shoulders desperately. It was then that you could see that the front of his shirt and apron did in fact have wet marks on them.

You rolled your eyes as you reached out to touch the damp material. “Jeno, seriously?”

“That was before I learned that it wasn’t funny! I’m sorry!”

“Is this why you came back here? To get a new apron?” You surmised, already knowing the answer by the nervous little smile you got in response.

“And return the empty pan and see my beautiful girlfriend that I love so much,” he added, which admittedly, did make you smile fondly as you pulled him over towards the sink by his forearm.

You held out a hand expectantly. “Apron.”

He untied the garment and handed it to you, and you went to swap it for one of the spare ones. Hopefully it would be mostly dry by the time you two left so you could just take it with you and toss it in the laundry when you got home. Jeno had taken a couple paper towels to the worst patches of his shirt, but unfortunately, it was grey, so he was just going to have to look like someone who didn’t know how to drink water for as long as it took to dry.

“Here.” You handed him the fresh apron, accepting the used paper towels in return to toss out for him.

“Thank you.”

“Honestly, how did you survive this long without me, Lee Jeno?” You clicked your tongue in feigned disappointment as you watched him put his apron on, leaning against the counter with your hip.

“Says the girl with strawberry frosting on her face,” he shot back smugly.

“What? Where?” You squeaked, looking around for a napkin.

But Jeno was already grabbing a paper towel, and held it under the persistent drip of the faucet that Minseok couldn’t seem to keep fixed. He grabbed your chin, leaned in close, and gently wiped the damp napkin over a spot on your cheek.

“Right there,” he murmured.

You looked into his big, brown, heart-stopping eyes for just a second before surging forward to close the short distance between your mouths. He smiled into the kiss, the paper towel falling from your cheek as he then gave you one, two more short pecks before pulling back.

Jeno was still holding your chin and pinched it in between his fingers affectionately as he looked at you with his adorable eye smile. “Alright, unfortunately, if I’m back here any longer, Mr. Minseok will come looking for me.”

“I suppose I’ll let you get back to work, then,” you sighed facetiously, grabbing the hand that was on your face and giving it a squeeze before letting it go.

“Yeah, you’re too much of a distraction back here, you know.”

“Shut up and go work, Jeno.”

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imasexypotato · 4 months

Text

Here's part 2 to the Isekai Historical Romance Clegan Fanfic:

Gale gapes as he watches the prince sitting next to him. He must look like a fish with his mouth open so wide. Gale snaps his mouth shut the moment he hears the prince chuckle.

"Your highness, what are you doing here?" Gale asks as he looks around the room. What is He doing here? What is Gale doing here? Where is here?

Gale takes in the room around him. It's big, everything in here is huge. The bed he lies on makes him feel small. The windows on the right side of the room stretch from the ground to the ceiling, and behind flowing curtains, Gale can see a balcony.

A table at the other end of the room with scrolls and books stacked high on top. It looks messy. Behind it, a bookshelf filled to the brim with books stands tall.

This room isn't as crammed with shiny objects as the throne room had been. This room looks used, and lived in. It feels cosy in a way. It's almost peaceful. Gale looks around some more, taking in his surroundings.

He stops when he hears a cough next to him.

He whips his head back to the prince embarrassingly fast. He feels his cheeks heat up as he looks at him.

The prince has a sly smile plastered across his handsome face. Gale shivers under his dark gaze. There's a glint in his eyes that Gale can't quite place.

"It would seem your mind likes to wonder off quite frequently." He says as he stands from his chair. Gale looks up as the prince towers over him.

He's huge.

Well, not huge. He can't be that much taller than Gale himself. But as he takes in the prince's physique, he can't help but let his eyes wonder.

The prince is in excellent shape. His firm and well-defined muscles can be seen outlined by his outfit.

He must have grown up training with the royal guards. Gale takes him in, and thinks, the man before him is the embodiment of what a king should look like. Tall, strong, regal.

He wouldn't be surprised if the lords and ladies at court bent at his whim. A smile from him would surely make the nobility swoon. His future consort was sure to be a lucky noble. Gale's brain finally catches up to him.

Consort.

That would be.....him.

In the near future at least. Gale frowns.

"...and so, I climbed up through the-" Gale cuts the prince off without much thought.

"Your highness, I need to-" "John" the prince cuts him off. Gale looks up at him. "I'm sorry?" He says as the prince takes a seat on the bed, his thigh grazing against Gale's covered leg.

"You are to be my betrothed, you may call me John. Or Bucky, in private, I truly don't mind." He says as he smiles at him. Gale looks at him for a moment. He shakes his head.

"Your highness works just fine, my prince. Also, there is something I must discuss with you. This whole betrothal and marriage arrangement was completely-" The prince lifts his hand to Gale's face.

He can't help but flinch back. He feels a warm hand move a strand of hair away from his face.

"You have no idea how long I've waited to meet you, my dear. You're a hard person to find you know?" The prince watches him intently.

He keeps his hand on Gale's face, gently caressing his cheek. Gale could lose himself in those eyes.

"I'm Gale." He says without thinking. The princes falters in his ministrations. He slides his hand down Gale's cheek, landing on his neck.

"I know." He says as he runs his fingers along the younger man's tender neck. Gale feels his breathe hitch. He grabs the prince's wrist. He keeps his hand there. He doesn't know what to do.

The prince watches him. He seems to be gauging for a reaction. He sighs as he pulls away. Whatever it is he's looking for, he doesn't seem to find it in Gale's face.

"I shouldn't be here, you and I aren't to be introduced for another week. I heard you had collapsed in the throne room. You gave my father quite the fright." The prince admits as he looks around the room.

That's right. He'd fainted in front of the king. How embarrassing. Then he freezes. He looks around. Where is his mother? He can feel himself start to panic.

He turns back to the prince, about to demand and answer from him, but the Prince holds up a hand.

"Your mother is fine. Worried sick about you. She's resting in one of the guest rooms. A medic is with her, you needn't worry." He says.

Gale feels himself relax as he leans into the fluffy pillows behind him. She was alright. That's all that mattered.

"Once I knew where they'd hidden you away, it was easy enough to sneak in." He says lightly. Gale gapes at him.

"You snuck in?" The other man simply nods as he point towards the balcony. Gale looks out and turns back to the prince, giving him an odd look.

"Did you climb up the walls?" He asks in confusion. How preposterous.

The thought of the young prince climbing up the side of the palace walls to get a glimpse of him makes him shake his head.

The prince nods once more. Gale looks at him as though he'd grown a second head. He pulls the blankets off himself suddenly.

He hears the prince's indignant 'uhmfp' as they land on him. Gale ignores him as he jumps out of bed and makes his way to said balcony.

Gale opens the glass doors and steps out onto the balcony. He walks up and peers over the edge.

He gasps. They're three stories up from the palace grounds.

"Are you out of your mind? What if you had lost your grip? Or slipped? You would have plummeted to your death!" He says as he turns to speak to Prince John.

He's met with a sturdy chest in front of him. He takes a step back. He hadn't heard the prince sneak up on him.

He must be light on his feet.

Prince John smiles down at him as he moves to stand next to him. He looks over the edge and grins.

"It's not that bad. I'm quite agile, you know." He says, almost proudly. Gale shakes his head in astonishment.

"You're not a cat, John" he says. The prince turns to him in surprise. Gale tilts his head in confusion. A wide grin spreads across the princes face.

"You called me John just now." He states. Gale frowns. " I apologise you high-" "I like it." The prince interrupts him again. He does that a lot.

"Now call me Bucky." He all but demands. Gale shakes his head. The prince grabs at his face once more. He crowds Gale up against the balcony railing.

Gale holds his breath. He can feel the prince's body press into his own. This close to one another, Gale would only have to shift a little and their lips would graze.

"Your highness, this is highly inappropriate, so if you would kindly move-" Prince John tilts his head back.

"Please." He whispers. Pactically begs.

Gale's mind goes blank. He had come all this way just to see him. He'd climbed up the palace walls for him.

And really, who was he to deny his prince? He closes his eyes for a moment. He feels the prince rub the tip of his nose against his own. It's endearing.

Before Gale can give in to the prince's request, heavy footsteps can be heard at the entrance of the room. They both turn in ath direction. The prince curses as he pulls away.

Gale looks up at the prince in confusion and then remembers what he had said. He had snuck in. He wasn't supposed to be here. The prince looks over the edge and turns to smile at Gale.

He grabs Gale's hand and pulls it up to his face. He places a tender kiss against his knuckles, his eyes never leaving Gale's. He let's go and steps back.

Gale watches as he places his hands on the railing. It's then that Gale realises what John is about to do.

"The next time we meet, I won't be so open, so...friendly. Don't take it to heart. It was nice meeting you, Gale." The prince winks at him before jumping over the railing and plummeting down.

Gale rushes over, fear clouding his judgement. He almost slips and falls down himself. He grabs the white railing tightly.

He looks around wildly. He breathes out a sigh of relief when he doesn't see a body splattered onto the palace grounds down below.

But it makes him wonder.

He peeks down. Prince John is nowhere to be found. Gale looks around but can't find him anywhere.

How had he done that? In less than a second, he'd jumped and disappeared from sight. Gale doesn't have time to ponder.

A loud scream behind him startles him.

His grip on the railing loosens as his body, following gravity's pull, lurches forward. He closes his eyes and hopes for the best.

Strong hands yank him back to safety. He falls to the ground. He sighs in relief. He opens his eyes and looks around himself. He has company, it would seem.

Three guards surround him, two at his feet, each clinging onto his ankles. And behind him, another guard trembles against him as he has his arms tightly wound around his waist. Gale blinks away a few stray tears.

He looks up and he sees a girl. Her hair is as blonde as his. Cleaner than his. She looks familiar somehow, but he knows he's never met her before.

She must be around his age. Taking in her outfit, Gale assumes she's a maid or a lady in waiting. She's the one that startled him with her scream.

"What where you thinking my lord?! Trying to jump from the balcony, you could have died!" The girl screeches.

Gale gawks at her in bewilderment. The guard under him sits up and glares at him. Gale looks at him in confusion.

"We leave you along for only a moment, and you try to fling yourself out the window, you must'a hit yer head while falling yesterday." The man says as he pats him on the head.

Gale shrinks into him, still processing the sudden situation he'd been faced with. The other guards release their grip on his legs. The first guard doesn't let go of his waist.

"Captain Biddick! Stop petting him! He's not a dog!" The girl stresses as she steps forward. She stretches out her hand, offering it to Gale. He stares at her hand, then looks back up at her. Where does he know her from?

"Ahem, you plannin' on sittin' in my lap all day, little lord? Not that I mind or anything, you're as light as a feather! Far better it for me to make a pretty boy such as yourself leave the comfort of my thi-."

"CURTIS BIDDICK."

The sudden scream makes the guard stop his rambling. He almost looks ashamed.

Almost.

The girl shakes her head and sighs.

"I beg for your forgiveness, my lord, Captain Biddick hasn't been educated on the proper manners he should use around nobility." She says as she throws another glare in his direction.

The man, Captain Biddick lets go of Gale's waist and raises his hands in mocking surrender.

Gale looks between the two and can't help but let out a chuckle. All eyes focus on him in an instant. Gale shakes his head. He grabs onto the girl's hand to pull himself up.

"There is no need to apologise, really." He says softly. He turns and helps the captain up. He smiles at him. Captain Biddick smiles back with a cheeky grin.

"Also, I think there's been a misunderstanding. I wasn't trying to jump off the balcony." He says as he turns to look at the girl once more.

She looks at him with a glint of skepticism in her eyes. He smiles and tries to reassure her.

"I'm telling the truth, I just....needed some fresh air. I was leaning on the railing, taking in the view. When I heard your scream, I was startled and my hand slipped." He says.

He doesn't mention the real reason he was on the balcony. If the prince wasn't supposed to be here, Gale wouldn't let anyone know.

"Your hand slipped." She says in disbelief.

"Yes. My name is Gale, by the way. It's nice to meet you all." He says as he looks at both the guards, captain Biddick and the girl.

That seems to make her straighten up. She takes a step back and gives a perfect curtsy.

"Of course, how rude of me. My name is Marjorie, my lord. I am to be your lady in waiting." She says. Not a maid then. A Lady.

"It's nice to make your acquaintance, Lady Marjorie." Gale answers politely. Lady Marjorie shakes her head and smiles.

"Please, behind closed doors, feel free to call me Marge, my lord." Gale nods. She points at the three guards next to them.

"These fine gentlemen are members of the royal guard. Benny DeMarco and John Brady. And you have already had the misfortune of meeting Captain Biddick." She says as she formally introduces them.

"It's nice to meet all of you, and please, Call me Gale, nobody has ever addressed me as a lord. Plus, I'm not even a Baron. That title still belongs to my father." Gale says.

They are all quiet of a moment. They look at eachother, silently communicating through their eyes.

Gale freezes.

Had he done something wrong? Marge seems like she wants to say something, but Captain Biddick speaks before her.

"Well aren't ya just an angel? Most nobles around here, walk with their head so far up their own asses , you'd think you're talking to the king himself in front of them." He blurts out happily.

"Curt!" Marge reprimands him once more.

Demarco steps forward and bows. Gale stops that immediately.

"No bowing, no curtsying, no... any of this. At least not unless necessary, please." It genuinely makes him uncomfortable.

DeMarco leans back and nods.

"The others call me DeMarco, you can do the same." He says as he shakes Gale's hand.

"And you can call me Brady! It's really nice to meet you, Gale." Brady says enthused. Gale shakes both their hands and smiles.

A hand wraps itself around his shoulders. He looks to the side and sees Curt's funny grin right next to him.

"You call me Curt from now on, Gale. Anything you need you let us know, yeah?" He says as he ruffles his hair again. Marge goes to tell him off again, but Gale shakes his head.

"So, why is it that you all suddenly barged into my room before?" He asks curiously. If he has still been asleep, the ruckus alone would've woken him up in an instant.

The cozy atmosphere suddenly disappears. Marge seems to pale, DeMarco and Brady look to Curt. Curt sighs and straightens up.

"You're being summoned by the Queen, Gale. Not good." Curt leans back and waits for Gale's reaction. He has none. Marge steps up.

"Is that a bad thing? I've spoken to the king already, I'm sure the Queen-." "The Queen isn't like the king Gale." Marge interrupts him. She paces around places her hand on her hips.

She has more influence at Court than anyone else. You need to be in her good graces!" Marge says, becoming more stressed by the minute. Gale tries to calm her down.

"I'm sure it'll be fine. She probably wants to talk about this engagement. That's good. I need to clear some things out with her as well. If anyone will hear me out, I'm sure it'll be her." Gale says confidently.

The looks the others give him make him falter.

Marge looks at him and squints. She sighs and nods. "Alright. We have less than an hour to get you ready."

Gale blinks.

"I am ready." He says.

They give him odd looks. Marge almost looks offended. DeMarco and Brady smile almost painfully. Curt full on laughs. Gale turns to him and raises a brow.

Curt shakes his head.

"Not tryin' to offend ya, Gale-io, but you can't meet the Queen looking like some type of forest rat." Marge gasps and frowns. Forest rat? He'd never heard that before.

"That's it! You have no business being in Gale's room, go wait outside, all of you." She says suddenly.

Curt laughs as he walks towards the bedroom door.

"We'll be waiting for you right outside Gale, take your time!" He says. Demarco and Brady Groan.

"Why do we have to leave? We didn't do anything..." Brady starts to protest as DeMarco drags him away.

"Out." Marge points to the door. Demarco nods a goodbye to Gale and leaves, closing the door behind them.

Marge sighs and relaxes. She turns to Gale and smiles.

"Now. To make you look presentable." She takes a step back and claps her hands twice. A side door, that Gale had assumed was a closet, burts open.

A bunch of maids pour in. Gale takes a step back. Where on earth did they come from? Had they been there this entire time? Had they seen him and the Prince? Marge can see the confusion on his face and smiles.

"The maids and butlers have secret corridors all around the palace, it helps them move around the palace grounds quickly and efficiently without bothering any of the nobles out there." She says as she nods towards the main hallway. Gale nods. Phew.

The maids bring in racks of clothes and a giant tub.

They all form into a line after setting everything down. They turn to him and Curtsy in creepy synchronisation.

Gale goes to tell them not to bow, but Marge grabs his arm and shakes her head. It would seem he wasn't aloud to speak to them as freely as he did with her and the others.

The maids leave, closing the secret door behind them. Gale looks at everything in the room.

"You are going to take a bath, and I'm going to pick an outfit that will make the Queen.....not chew you up upon meeting her." She says. Gale watches her for a moment. When she sees that he isn't moving she stops.

"What is it?" Gale feels embarrassed to say.

"I'm supposed to bathe with you just waltzing around?" He asks as though it's an obvious concern. Marge simply blinks at him. After a moment she starts to laugh.

"Oh Gale, you've been gone from High society for far too long. If it where up to them, the maids would have stayed and hand washed you themselves.

I sent them away because I knew you'd feel uncomfortable. Plus, I won't look." She says. Gale shivers at the thought of a bunch of probing hands touching him all over. He hates it.

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind." Gale turns to take a bath and he hears her mutter something under her breath.

"What was that?" She spins towards him and smiles.

"They will have to change you though." She says. Gale looks at the clothes and then at her.

"I can change myself perfectly well." She thinks for a moment.

"I don't doubt that. I'll see what I can do, I'll try to convince them to let you change. And let them come in to fix any imperfections they may see, alright?" Gale nods.

"Thank you Marge, truly." He is grateful. She smiles.

"Take a bath, I'll be back soon." She leaves through the secret passage and Gale is left alone once more. He gets into the warm bathtub and sighs. He can finally sort out his thoughts.

He needs to find his mother and get out of here. He looks around the room. There are a few trinkets that catch his eyes. He could sell them off for some money.

There's sure to be medicine he can purchase in the city. As soon as he gets his hands on what he needs, he will take his mother and leave the kingdom. They'll go back home.

No.

Not home. They'll know to find them there. Gale frowns, where else can they go? He sighs in frustration and dips his head underwater.

Perhaps the Queen will listen to him and annul this ridiculous contract. Right now, it seems to be the only option. Gale hopes she'll listen to reason.

Both the King and the prince, however charming he may be, had refused to listen to him when it came to this engagement. He hopes the Queen is different.

The prince comes into his mind. Gale closes his eyes. He remembers his touch. On his cheek , on his neck. His lips on his knuckles. The feeling of his body pressed against his own. Gale shakes his head and stands up.

He towels himself down and looks at the clothes Marge had set on the bed for him. They look....fancy. Not at all like the clothes he's used to wearing. He touches the fabric and smiles. It's so soft.

He gets changed quickly. He looks in the mirror and nods. He looks presentable now , he hopes. Just as he puts on his boots, Marge comes back in. She smile and nods. A couple of maids trail behind her.

"They are going to fix your hair and straighten out your outfit." Marge sits down and watches them. The maids diligently get to work. They make Gale sit down.

One of them fixes his hair , while the other fiddles with the buttons on his vest. After a few minutes, they step back and curtsy. They turn to leave once Marge dismisses them.

Marge walks around him. Looking up and down. She grabs his shoulders and makes him stand up straight.

She comes back into view. Her eyebrows seem to crinkle for a moment. Then she nods.

"You look Perfect." She says happily.

Gale thanks her. They walk towards the door. Before she opens it, she turns to him.

"The Queen is, she can be..... difficult. But I'm sure that you'll charm her with your.....smile." She seems to be trying to convince herself as much as him. Gale nods. She nods back.

"I hope." She whispers. She opens the door, and Curt almost falls in. He'd been leaning on the door. Marge frowns at him. He just smiles. He whistles when he sees Gale.

"You clean up nice, Gale! The Queen is sure to love ya." He teases. Gale smiles.

"You look great Gale. Don't be nervous." Demarco tris to reassure him. Brady nods along, agreeing with him. He thanks them all. He steps out of the room.

He takes a moment to breathe. He turns to them and nods. They nod as they lead him towards his meeting.

Gale steels himself. He's got this. He can do this, he repeats this matta as they walk through the palace halls.

It's time to meet the Queen.

27 notes · View notes

mirai1269 · 3 months

Text

Guardian Angel AU (Leon x [MC])

[MC] has a peculiar friend. An angel. The two grew up together, looking out for one another. The angel claimed that he was there to protect him, in exchange, [MC] showed him friendship (and unknowingly even more).

But this angel is a little bit more than meets the eye...

Words: 2652

Fluff, a bit of angst, Leon x [MC], supernatural elements, slight yandere themes

*Pink words in the fic are whispered*

Stuck in a Yandere Visual Novel...HELP!! is the game of @pumpkin-spike18

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

One warm February day, on the school’s courtyard, [MC] was peacefully eating his lunch. When suddenly...

"FOR THE LAST TIME!" The echo of a distressed shout rang throughout the building. "I. DON'T. WANT. YOUR. CUPCAKES!!!"

"So, it begins." [MC] thought.

Ah, yes. Valentine's Day is just around the corner (meaning the start of the attack of the Drama Club's Valentine's Day Sale).

A day [MC] could not resonate with. Romance has always avoided him somehow (unlike the Drama Club's salesmen).

"Wow, they're getting more persistent this year, eh?"

[MC] turned to where the voice came from. "Like always. But they won't get me this time!" He announced proudly, a sly smile drawing on his face.

His companion stood up to stretch, his eyes not leaving [MC].

"How about you let me handle them this time? That's pretty much my job, you know."

Looking up to keep the eye contact, [MC] could feel his neck cracking. Were it not for his bangs hanging in front of his eyes, the light reflected by his companion's white suit and pinkish hair would've made him go blind.

"Leon, they're not 'demons'. Your job is to protect me only from those." [MC] answered. The other rolled his eyes, dropping himself back next to the brunet.

"You're not wrong. But you see, I'm special~."

Wrapping an arm and a feathery wing around [MC]'s shoulder, the pink haired boy continued in a more determined tone.

"I'm tasked to protect you from anything and everything that may cause you harm. Demons, spirits, ghouls, sketchy salesmen, vampires and other monstrosities of the dark side. Whatever it is, I shall protect you with my (immortal) life."

Letting out a chuckle, [MC] shook his head, sighing in defeat.

"Well, they do fit one of those categories..." He mumbled. In an instant, Leon jumped up from his seat, his wings spread wide, his eyes shot open.

"So can I-"

"No." [MC] shot him off, going back to finishing his lunch.

The taller boy crossed his arms, plopped back next to the brunet and started to pout. [MC] didn’t pay much attention to it. He knew the angel's tricks too well to fall for them. Finally, Leon decided to try another approach.

“I’ve done an excellent job for the past 8 or so years- “

“And I’m ever so grateful for it.” [MC] cut him off, patting Leon’s back gently. “What would I even do without you?”

As a response, Leon quietly growled, puffing up his cheeks bigger.

“...do you at least have a plan?” He asked after a few moments of silence. [MC] chuckled with a smug look on his face.

"Well, do I~? Want me to elaborate~?" He asked, feeling like a villain mastermind. Leon hopped off from his seat and started floating in the air, laying on his stomach, his eyes at the same level as [MC]'s. Supported by his elbows, his rested his head in his hands.

"Oh, I 'cannot' wait to hear it." He said, mockingly. But before [MC] could even take a breath, the bell rang.

"Ah shoot! You made me forget about the time." [MC] scolded Leon, while he picked up his backpack. Leon, shocked from the accusation, grabbed at his heart.

"Me? Make you forget? How could you say that [MC]?" He whined, as the other bolted into the building. Chuckling to himself, the angel flew up to the window of the classroom in two flaps of his wings. Sitting on the edge, he loyally waited for his companion, until...

"LEAVE ME ALONE!!" [MC] cried out, as he tried to get away from the "demons", the sound of his running ringing into Leon's ears like music.

"Ehe~" He smirked to himself. "There goes Mr. 'I have a plan'!"

After some time, [MC] crashed in the room, panting and sweating.

"So~...how did that plan of yours work out?" Leon asked. [MC] glared at him as he dragged himself to his seat and plopped onto the chair.

"They..." One huff.

"...didn't sell..." A quick swallow.

"...me..." Another huff.

"...anything...justsoyouknow-" With one final huff, [MC] face planted onto his desk. Leon hopped into the room and slowly made his way to the poor guy. Too exhausted from the chase, he didn't give any mind to the angel stroking his raven locks. Leon cooed the youth with a gentle whisper.

"Rest, my dear! I'll keep watch."

After school, the two best friends decided to take a break at the café by the train station. Though eating wasn't essential for Leon, [MC] found that it might be fair to the angel to receive an occasional reward for his services. So, twice a week, on Monday and Friday, [MC] would treat his 'personal celestial bodyguard' to a pastry. Even though Leon wasn't picky, he sure took long to choose.

"Ugh, there's even more things to choose from today. [MC], help me!" The angel wept. Unfortunately, his cry has landed on deaf ears, as the brunet was looking out the shop's window.

Their town has always been oddly ecstatic about the day of love. Heck, even every other day, the streets were decorated with hearts, roses, anything pink and/or red. [MC] could never figure out the reasons of it, so in time, he gave up and accepted it. It's better than the dull, grey depression holes he saw when his class went on trips anyway. Plus, he liked pink.

The streets were flooded with the decorations and the main stars of the holiday, couples. Pairs and small groups of 3 or more passed by, displaying affection. To his right, on the other side of the street, a small group of girls were buying flowers at the flower shop, chatting to themselves. Opposite to them, to his left, two guys were passing by, holding hands. Near that pair, a girl and a boy were checking out the shops' displays.

The sight gave [MC] mixed feelings. On one hand, the display of romance made him feel warm and comfortable. Like he was at home, safe. On the other, he felt... a bit jealous.

Why is it, that all his life, this magical feeling has avoided him? Heck, he’s never even had any celebrity crushes! Sure, he could tell if someone looked handsome or pretty (or outright hot), but other than that, nothing.

In the end, he figured it doesn't matter. It's not like he'll die if he won't fall in love. Maybe he'll never fall in love.

Maybe...it's just not meant to be for him.

"[MC]?" The sound of him being called made him snap back to reality. Leon was standing right behind him. "I know what I want."

In the end, [MC] choose for him. They got two slices of strawberry shortcakes and for Newt, a pastry that looked like the head of a teddy bear. At home, [MC] discovered that his brother was still away.

"Oh right, he's out with his friends." He reminded himself.

Leon was waiting for him on the couch, his eyes twinkling, and his wings flapping impatiently. He was eager for his 'salary'.

"Leon... we'll eat these on the 'dinner' table." [MC] called out to him.

"But it's so comfortable on the couch. Hurry up instead!" The angel protested. In defeat, [MC] sighed and carried on.

Once in his 'at home attire', [MC] put the shortcakes onto two separate plates, and put Newt's dessert into the fridge. He wrote a note for him about it. Back by the couch, Leon took the first bite.

"Mmm~, sweet and soft! I knew you'd choose well. Thank you for the dessert!" The angel said, licking his fork. At first, [MC] wondered how Leon could eat if he wasn't able to be perceived by others, but, like other things, he didn't delve too much on it. In between bites, the two exchanged some light conversation.

"So... Valentine's Day, huh?" [MC] said, munching on a bite of cake. Leon swallowed before answering.

"It's next week. What about it?"

The boy in front of him was playing with a strawberry, rolling it around with his fork. "I don't know." [MC] replied. "It's just..." With a heavy sigh, he set the utensil on the table. "I was just thinking about...uhm..."

Leon's gaze on him started to become more and more curious. "About what?" The angel asked.

"About...cupids?" [MC] answered, sounding unsure. For a short moment, his 'answer' was met with silence.

"...what about them?" Leon asked, putting the last bite of his dessert into his mouth, his ruby eyes never leaving [MC]'s face.

"Well...are they real? I mean, since you're an angel, a 'specialized' angel, I was just wondering, what other 'professions' you guys do." After saying this, [MC] defensively put his hands up. "You don't have to give an answer, it's more of a-"

Leon lightly waved his hand. "It's okay. It's not a secret." He stood up to put his dishes in the sink. "There's a wide variety of angels. In terms of power, I'm on the lower ranks. In fact, most of the 'specialized' angels are lower rank. Other than guardian angels, some of us work for Death, some of us deal with human souls in the afterlife, and..."

[MC] walked up to Leon's back. "There's cupids?" He asked. The taller male turned to face him, nodding in silence. "Do you not like them?" The brunet asked.

"What makes you say that?" Leon asked back.

"You obviously don't want to talk about them. I guess you're not a fan of romance, huh?" [MC] added, putting his dishes on top of Leon's. The other shook his head.

"I do like romance. We've even watched movies like that before, remember?"

[MC] did remember. Leon's eyes were glued to the Tv screen for the whole duration of those movies, in complete silence. He always thought Leon was just not used to the technology.

"Then I suppose it's for another reason. Are they annoying to work with?"

Leon started to look more and more uncomfortable. "...well, some of them are..."

"Hm?" [MC] tilted his head. The angel put his hands up.

"I-I wouldn't know. I've...barely met any."

[MC] looked down, feeling a bit dejected. "Yeah, makes sense." Leon gave him a look that he's rarely seen. It was...apologetic?

"Welp, want to do something before calling it a day?" [MC] clapped his hand together, then went back into the living room, with Leon tagging along.

They decided to watch a crappy horror movie. At first, they just laughed at the terrible costumes and effects, but the plot was so boring, [MC]'s eyes began to wonder off. His gaze shifted to Leon instead. Like every other time, the angel's red irises were fixated on the screen.

A curious feeling started to bloom in the brunet's chest. As sneakily as he could, he snooped closer to Leon, until their hips touched. The other didn't give any reaction, so [MC] shifted his gaze back to the Tv. In that moment, a jump-scare occurred, making him shiver a little. Behind him, the shifting sound of fabric made him more antsy, until he felt soft feathers tickle the side of his face. Looking back up at Leon, he found the other doing the same, with a soft smile of his face.

"I noticed you got a bit scared there." The angel whispered, wrapping his wings around the boy a bit more tightly. To avoid the pesky stray feathers tickling his face, [MC] rested his head on Leon's shoulder, until the end of the movie. If he would've let his eyes wander again, he would've seen Leon blush, and fight the urge to let his smile grow bigger.

Once the movie ended, they both agreed to never watch anything like this ever again (Leon suggested watching something scarier next time). [MC] carried out his bedtime routine, and since Newt has messaged him that he'd spend the night at a friend's house, went straight to bed.

"Good night, [MC]!" Leon said, sitting on the edge of his best friend's bed.

"See you tomorrow, Leon!" And with that, [MC] wandered into the land of dreams.

The angel carefully swiped the bangs away from [MC]'s face. With a soft smile, he carefully bent down, making sure not to disturb the youth's sleep. Before his lips could touch [MC]'s forehead, the sound of wings' flapping snapped him out of his moment.

"...f*ck."

In mere seconds, as quietly as he could, he was roaring up in the night sky. By the roof of the building, 3 winged figures were waiting for him. One of them looked particularly angry, as they crossed their arms when Leon came into view.

"So, did you finally find him someone?" The angry angel asked. Leon remained silent. His eyes were fixated on the ground. The angel to his right approached him.

"Leon, you were asked a question. Answer!" They ordered.

"...I... I'm still working on it." Leon replied, shaking. The 3rd angel huffed.

"What does that entail pray tell? Last time I checked, eating desserts is not part of it." They mocked. Leon huffed to relieve the anger that started to build up.

"It's just hard to find-" But before Leon could finish, the 3rd angel cut him off.

" 'Hard to find'? Well of course! It is hard to find something, when you weren't even looking for it!" The other angels frowned at them, making the mocking angel shut their mouth.

"They have point, you know." The angel near Leon said. "You can't keep playing around, Leon. We have overlooked your misbehaviour for too long. Impersonating as a guardian angel, sabotaging your co-workers, you, avoiding your responsibilities! Enough is enough!"

Leon averted his gaze, getting more and more irritated. "I still bring couples together. So technically-"

The angry angel appeared right before him in a blink of an eye. They grabbed his chin, making it impossible to look away. Leon’s irises glowed, an act of defence.

"Don't you dare talk back! Do your job, you imbecile! After that, you can pretend to be the guard dog of whoever you want. I don't care. This human's soul needs love. If his heart is not on fire, a demon could easily take control over him. Do you want that?" Finishing the speech, they let Leon go.

Upon the reminder of what's at stake, the pink haired boy froze. Right... making [MC] fall in love is for his own good. He must stop being selfish. He must...

"I think Leon here is just jealous." The mocking angel cut in. Everyone looked at them. In Leon's eyes, fury flamed. "He doesn't want the human to fall in love, because he's 'in love' with him. Aww, how romantic!"

"SHUT UP!" Leon shouted. "What do you know about how I feel?"

The other two angels huffed. "Oh please. Leon doesn't even know what he's feeling. Cupids don't fall in love, after all."

Leon shut his eyes. His anger was bubbling so hot, he could feel...

"You have until Valentine's Day. Either you find someone for him... or someone more competent will."

The 3 angels left so fast it was like they were never there. They left Leon frozen in place by the 'threat'.

Back in [MC]'s room, he carefully approached the bed, laying his head on the edge. The brunet's hands were laying by his side, out of the blanket. Gently, Leon grabbed the one closest to him and gave it a tender kiss. Looking at the boy's sleeping figure, his heart couldn't take it anymore.

His tears were flowing like a river. His legs felt so weak, he knew he couldn't stand up to leave the room. With his remaining strength, he fought to keep his voice down, covering his figure with his wings.

"It's not fair." He mumbled between sobs. "I can love him. I do love him..."

After crying for long, he mumbled one last thing, before passing out on the floor.

"I won't give him up..."

#yandere #stuck in a yandere visual novel...help #stuckinyanvn #syvnh #syvnh mc #syvnh leon #fanfiction

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kendsleyauthor · 2 years

Text

Silver Ash: Chapter 3

~3600 words

Warnings: Human sacrifice, captivity

Summary: While Mariana struggles to come to terms with Raiden's unwilling sacrifice, Raiden awakens in confinement--but a chance at escape may be within reach.

🌲 Silver Ash Masterpost 🌲

Thank you @marydublinauthor for beta-reading! 🌸

The Council is doing everything they can to distract her—all while trying to maintain that nothing of note had happened. Ever since she became the Lady of Shadewick just shy of a year ago, her days had been packed with lessons and meetings, but there had always been time in between to collect her thoughts.

The day after the Offering, Mariana is kept so busy that she has little time to wonder about Raiden. To wonder if he’s still breathing. To wonder if he is still fighting to survive. To wonder if he is now at peace with the mysterious knowledge of what becomes of the forest’s Offerings. But any time she tries to think, she is pulled into a new task.

Councilor Harlan wasn’t to quiz her on history. Councilor Sierra wants her to sit in on meetings with Shadewick’s farmers. Councilor Gabrielle wants to study her etiquette. Councilor Koan wants to review her self-defense training—he claims she is in the most danger from civilians after an Offering.

Mariana had woken up that morning with tears in her eyes and an itinerary by her breakfast tray. The Council means well. They know Raiden meant something to her, but in all their efforts to make her avoid thoughts of him, she cannot mourn properly. She knows better than to attempt to discuss the matter directly with them. She had argued with them for hours when he was chosen, to no avail.

In a rare act of defiance, she takes a detour on the way to Gabrielle’s study. Mariana’s etiquette is impeccable, anyway. But being late to a meeting isn’t very proper at all, is it, my lady? She pauses, gripping the stair railway while she chokes back tears. Although she hasn’t thought about Raiden properly, his voice still whispers in her ear, like he is strolling right behind her. She sets her lips in a hard line and makes her way through the castle courtyard.

Blessedly, no one sees her. She had told Eloise, her lady-in-waiting, to meet her on the other side of the castle—where Mariana had no intention of going. That’s not very proper either, my lady. I should start keeping a tally.

Exactly what he would say.

Yes, Raiden could be flippant about important matters, and he had the gall to tease her ruthlessly, but at least he never put up an act around her. He was always himself, for better or worse. Unapologetically himself. It made him one of the few people she could truly talk to, especially after her mother died. Everyone else behaved as though they’d be the next Offering if they insulted her in any way.

Considering Raiden’s sacrifice, perhaps they were right.

She reaches the bridge to the Silver Ash and cranes her neck to take in the sight. Its highest branches stretch even taller than the castle itself. It can be seen from just about anywhere in Shadewick—a permanent fixture that either brought a sense of peace or foreboding, depending on who was looking at it. The tree is surrounded on all sides by a lake filled with lily pads and koi fish, some of which gather near the bridge to follow Mariana as she crosses it.

“Sorry,” she murmurs. “No food today.” It is the sort of thing Raiden would be more likely to remember.

As she steps off the bridge and onto the island that is home to the Silver Ash, it is as though she is walking into a new environment entirely. The thick roots weave in and out of the earth, sturdy as regular trees. The impressive width of the trunk could hold several rooms within if it were hollow. Vibrant green leaves blot out the sun, casting the island in pleasant shade. Mariana takes a familiar path to the other side of the tree, ducking below and around the roots, her heart heavy with loss.

Her mother would bring her here when they wanted a quiet moment. Even after her passing, Mariana returned almost daily to speak with her. She had died shortly after last year’s offering. The illness had been sudden—so sudden and violent that Mariana was certain there had been some mistake with the Offering, and Shadewick was being punished for it. Her mother had suffered for a few short days, unable to draw a full breath. And then she was gone, leaving Mariana with her title.

Thankfully, the Council has guided her. From the moment of her birth, they have been her second family, but now, she works more closely with them. She still has much to learn.

“Hello, Mama.” Mariana takes her usual seat on one of the arching roots at the base of the Silver Ash. She smoothes her dress on her lap and gazes at the spot across from her, where her mother had once lounged. “I… I don’t understand why it had to happen this way.” Her voice breaks off in a pitiful whine. “Was it a random selection? Was it punishment for what we did? Oh, Mama. It isn’t as if Raiden wants to marry me. We aren’t like that. It was one night. One night without rules before the Council begins to line up well-bred suitors for me.”

Not even a breeze stirs the leaves in answer. She always hopes her mother is listening. But she has never heard an answer.

She thinks about speaking aloud to Raiden instead, but her heart shatters at the thought of receiving no sign from him as well. Yesterday, she visited him in the dungeon. She wants to curl into herself at the thought of their final conversation.

The guard had given her ten minutes to speak with him. Her heart broke at the sight of Raiden behind bars. It seemed cruel to cage someone so full of life. It hurt especially to see how his eyes lit up at her approach as if she might tell him there had been a mistake and he was free to go back to living his life.

She took his hands and squeezed them, praying he would understand. “I’m sorry. The forest wants you. The Council insists.”

His expression twisted with disgust. “The forest. The forest doesn’t know I exist.”

A little sob shook through her. “Raiden…”

“Mari,” he said, viciously mimicking her miserable tone. “The forest isn’t a creature or god or anything other than trees and dirt. You hear me? Trees and dirt and monsters, Mari. It cares about me as much as your potted plants do.”

Her mouth went dry. He easily read the horror in her expression and scoffed.

“Oh, what?” Raiden rolled his eyes. “Blasphemy is a completely unreasonable reaction.”

“You can’t speak in such a way,” she whispered. “The forest—”

“Already claimed my blood, according to you and the Council. So what does it matter what I say about it? What will it do? Kill me a second time?”

“It might make you suffer.” She shook her head helplessly. “I don’t have the answers, Raiden. No one does. If you accept your choosing as an honor, the maybe—”

“What if I fought back instead? What if there was a way to survive?”

“What?”

“Why does it have to be a guarantee that I die in there?” When she gaped at him wordlessly, he pressed on. “I didn’t want to tell you this. I knew it would freak you out, but… Do you remember Tove?”

“The hunter?” Trove had been an Offering some years ago when Mariana and Raiden were no more than ten. “What does he have to do with this?”

“She,” Raiden said pointedly. “She has everything to do with this, if you’d listen.”

“She,” Mariana said. “She was a huntress, wasn’t she? She got into trouble for hunting in the Havenwood more than once. The Council says the Silver Ash chose her for her disrespect. That the forest wanted her in return for the blood she had spilled illegally. Why are you bringing her up?”

He clenched her jaw and gave her a hard look—the kind of look that pleaded for understanding. “I saw her at the Silver Ash a few months ago, in the dead of night. She was collecting leaves from it. I followed her. She went into Havenwood and slipped past a breach in the wall, back into the forest.”

“That’s… impossible.”

“It’s not. It was her, I know it. She looked… different. I swear, Mari, I saw her. She had flowers in her hair—so big that they covered half her face. She saw me right before she went through the wall. She took one look at me, then ran off.”

“Maybe it was a dream,” Mariana said. “You know that no Offering has ever been seen again.”

“It wasn’t a dream. Am I mad, then?”

She leaned forward, resting her forehead against the bars. This was already hard enough without Raiden’s desperate hope thrown into the situation. “I… I don’t know what you saw,” she said gently. “But if you did see her—”

“And I did.”

“Maybe the forest uses her body as a vessel.”

“Great,” he muttered. “So even if I survive, I’ll be the forest’s puppet. Is that what you believe? Is that what I should be so honored about?”

“I’m sorry.” She squeezed his hand tighter. “I wish there was another way. Believe me, I tried with the Council, but they—”

“Oh, please. You know exactly why this is happening.” He was the one clutching her tightly now. “We were seen, Mari. I told you we were. I swore I saw a guard peeking into your bedchamber. You didn’t listen to me then, either. He went and spread the news, and now the Council has a perfect target to get rid of without fuss. I sullied the perfect Lady of Shadewick.”

“That’s not true! We… Even if we were seen, the Council has nothing to do with your choosing. The Silver Ash may be displeased by what we did.”

He gave her a thoroughly exhausted and disgusted look. It made her feel childish. He had never looked at her in such a way, through all his years of teasing. “Mari. Listen to yourself. Why would a tree care if we fucked?”

She shushed him. “We don’t know the intricate nature of the Silver Ash. It is beyond our comprehension, and we don’t need to understand its choices. We simply must obey, or the walls of Shadewick will no longer protect us.”

“Okay. So let’s say the Silver Ash abhors what we did. Why was my name chosen? Why not yours? What would you do if your name was whispered to the Council instead?”

Mariana yanked her hands away sharply and took a step back. “I would walk into the forest with my head held high,” she snapped, but her eyes filled with more tears. “I would die happy knowing that my sacrifice is protecting my people. I would take the sleeping draught without fuss.”

Strangely, his expression softened with pity. “You’re one of the brightest people I know,” he said. “You excel at every subject, you’re quick as a whip in so many things. How can you be stupid enough to believe these lies?”

“Raiden—”

“No. Fuck the Council. And fuck you.”

He refused to speak to her at all after that, and she had no choice but to leave when the guard said her ten minutes were up.

Fuck the Council. And fuck you.

She squeezed her eyes shut. His words echo in her ears, taunting her. She should be furious that he would speak to her in such a way, but all she feels is hollow. She looks up at the Silver Ash and runs her fingers along the thick grooves of the bark.

Collecting leaves. Raiden claimed the Offered huntress had been collecting leaves. Why?

Her gaze trails further, to the castle, to the surrounding buildings that lead into the main city. And beyond that, there are fields and homes. All of it, surrounded by the forest that is being kept at bay with a yearly Offering.

This is her home. Her people.

All her life, her mother taught her that sacrifices are necessary to keep their home protected. There have been a few breaches in the walls over the years, but nothing compared to what would happen if they angered the Silver Ash and allowed the beasts in. She recalls seeing the aftermath of a man torn apart by monsters following a breach. In her mind’s eye, she sees a massacre—and it would be all her fault.

She wasn’t lying when she said she would accept her fate if she was the Offering.

And yet, it pained her so deeply to watch Raiden as he was led out of the dungeon and into the carriage, bound for death. Per custom, Mariana was the one to administer the sleeping draught that would knock him out before he reached the ritual ground. It would leave him prone to whatever the forest had planned for him.

But something snapped in her—something she can’t explain even now. When no one was looking, she switched the draught for water. She whispered for him to pretend to sleep until he was left alone.

And she isn’t sure if she can ever forgive herself.

“Why did you let him run off in the first place?” The first voice is unfamiliar and unsettlingly close. “It shouldn’t have been hard for you to collect him.”

“I don’t know. He was annoying.” The second voice is more distant and unsettlingly familiar. “I found him in the end, didn’t I?”

Raiden fades in and out to the sound of the conversation. His mind is being held firmly underwater, and no matter how he tries to surface, he can’t find the strength to become fully aware.

“He would have been less annoying if he was asleep,” the first voice scoffs. “How did he wake up so soon? Did those dolts brew the sleeping draught wrong?”

“You’re asking a lot of questions.”

The second voice is undoubtedly the giant. His rumbling tone comes closer, drastically overpowering the other’s voice. Raiden is aware he is being touched, moved, and tugged at, but he can’t resist or murmur a word of protest. His injury prickles at times, but he isn’t awake enough to feel more than a dull ache.

Finally, the touches stop, and he hears no more of the conversation.

He dreams of the river lady and yearns to dive with her under the rushing current. He never wants to wake up, knowing he’ll find a world where she left him behind.

But he does wake up, whether he likes it or not. The voices have fallen silent. When he squints his eyes open, there is no sky, no trees overhead. Somehow, he’s indoors. The faint rustle of branches and leaves permeates through the walls. A steady wind is blowing somewhere.

He is laying on his good side—the one that wasn’t torn by a boar’s tusk. Through bleary vision and shaking fingers, he surmises that he’s laying on a roughspun blanket. His injury smarts as he pushes himself to sit, and he locks up in pain.

After braving the ordeal of moving to hands and knees, he notices that his shirt has mysteriously vanished. His abdomen is wrapped in cloth bandages. He brushes his fingers over the wrappings, disturbed by the thought of someone maneuvering him while he was unconscious. The phantom sensation of large fingers trapping him in their grip makes him snap to sharper attention.

He expects to find the giant looming straight over him, but the reality of his surroundings makes his mouth go dry.

Bars. Wooden bars, thicker than his arm, surround him. He freezes, staring straight ahead at one side of his cage.

It’s alright, he tells himself hurriedly. Wood. It’s wood. He can manipulate it and free himself, so long as the giant doesn’t catch him in the act.

Crawling to the nearest wall of his enclosure, he peers out.

The room is massive—a structure made of stone and wood that has doors leading off to who-knew-where. There’s no telling how big this place is, and it’s all the more difficult to get a read on anything when it all appears to be sized for a leshy. The walls themselves are a mixture of bark and rock, as if the building itself was grown and shaped from the ground up to create a refined dwelling fit for a giant.

This space appears to be a parlor of sorts. His cage is high off the ground, situated on what must be a table. On the other side of the room, there is one seat in front of a roaring fireplace. It’s somewhat comforting to see that lone seat—a sign that there is only a single giant tenant to deal with.

There is no question to whom this dwelling belongs when he spots the deer mask propped on the mantle. The empty sockets seem to spy on his every move even now.

Tenderly pushing himself to his feet, Raiden winces. He’s been treated and bandaged, but he still feels like he was trampled by a horse. His earthen abilities will not come so easily in this state.

He circles the cage to find the largest gap to make his escape. There is no time to wonder how he will get down from the table—not when he finally looks directly behind him and realizes that it isn’t wind that he’s been hearing.

The giant has been at the table all along, right behind him. A small noise chokes in Raiden’s throat, but he clamps a hand over his mouth to stifle the noise.

There is silence, save for the leshy’s steady breathing. His arms are folded on the table, head down. Sleeping.

Eyes wide, Raiden slowly lowers his hand and struggles to get a hold of himself. It hadn’t even occurred to him that a monster so archaic could sleep. In this state, the leshy looks almost harmless. Handsome, even, with that peaceful look on his face. Those imposing eyes are shut, and without the deer antlers to give him extra height, he appears more human than ever before.

If there is ever going to be a time to get away, it is now. The moment the giant opens his eyes, there is no telling if he’ll get another opportunity.

Raiden white-knuckles two bars of the cage and lowers his head in concentration. Dead wood is harder to influence than live, but impossibly, it appears that this wood is very much alive. He snaps his hands away from it and looks down. The bars were grown straight up from the table itself—which must also be a piece of living wood.

The leshy has utterly manipulated the forest to do his bidding, going so far as to craft an entire home, furniture, and a makeshift Offering cage to keep Raiden contained while he naps.

He counts it lucky that the bars respond to his call. They curve apart, allowing him space to pass between. He keeps his eyes on the giant as he steps through, half-certain that tampering with the leshy’s creation will jolt him awake. But the giant goes on sleeping, entirely unaware that his newest captive is free.

Traveling with the softest steps he can manage, Raiden jogs to the edge of the table farthest from the leshy and looks over the side. The floor seems miles away, he notes with frustration. He wracks his mind to think how he can manipulate the ground or table to get him down, but he can’t influence the wood any further without risking unconsciousness. He may be able to jump to a chair, but much like seating by the fireplace, this table only has one—and the giant is occupying it.

“Your reclusiveness is incredibly inconvenient,” Raiden hisses, throwing the leshy a scowl.

He explores the perimeter of the table, but it’s all useless until he reaches the giant. As Raiden glares at the monster, a horrifically stupid plan takes form. He tries to push it away, but the longer he stands there, the surer he is that there is only one possible way to the floor without immediately dooming himself.

And he hates it.

Part of him wishes that the leshy will wake up right that instant and make his plan dissolve before he can even attempt. As Raiden inches closer, there is no change.

Up close, he feels the faint stir of the giant’s breath through his slightly parted lips. The tiny leafed vines appear in sharper detail on his face. The vegetation seems to weave in and out of his skin—it’s hard to tell where hair ends and leaves begin. Raiden vaguely wonders if it hurts to have vines torn away from his skin, not that he has any intention to sate that particular curiosity

Holding his breath, Raiden stretches out a trembling hand and rests it on the giant’s sleeve. He pulls back sharply and takes a peek at the too-close face. No movement. Not even a twitch or stutter in breathing. Nothing more than a deceptively peaceful expression.

Perhaps he really can get away with this.

Urgency surges through him. If he doesn’t move now, he will lose his chance. He grips the fabric near the giant’s elbow with more confidence. His wound aches sharply, but he stuffs the pain down. Gritting his teeth, he pulls himself up and begins inching his way toward the giant’s side.

Did you think climbing down a sleeping giant would be one of the great honors of being an Offering, Mari?

((Author's note: The story's still going! There may be long stretches between posts, but I really want to see this one through! Having our hero climb down a sleeping giant is one way to keep me invested 👀))

Taglist: @tales-of-aestus @sleeplessinthesmokies @waitisthatgt @stormtheskyelf @solarmooon @connormurphysimp

Lemme know if you’d like to be on the taglist for this story! 💕

#gt #g/t #gt writing #g/t writing #giant tiny #size difference #gt community #g/t community #fearplay #g/t fearplay #gt story #g/t story #my writing #silver ash #silver ash story #oc: raiden #oc: mariana #oc: jakob

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t-horn-n · 2 years

Text

— he who wears the crown of thorns

PAIRING: peter ballard/henry creel x reader (female)

GENRE: angst, h.end

WARNINGS: canon-level violence, allusions to substance (mis)use

Stranger Things S4 spoilers.

SUMMARY: when you are injured in the lab, peter must finally admit what your relationship is.

NOTE: I have exhausted the well of Peter Ballard fanfiction, so I decided to write my own.

If you were one for poetics, you would craft the story of Hawkin’s Lab into a drama, or more likely, a tragedy. Peter Ballard Henry Creel the hero, a fallen king who wears a crown of thorns around his neck. And Martin Brenner, the arrogant mortal who tries to wield a god’s power.

What does that make you? Once, you may have simply been the narrator. An outsider who felt obliged to tell the story of those who could not tell it themselves. But now? As time has passed, are you the fallen king’s guardian angel? His pawn, a subject made to be ruled? His friend? Or his lover?

It is not yet clear.

What is certain is that you are entangled with him as though you have been ensnared by invisible threads, as unnoticeable as fishermen’s line, but as strong as spiders’ silk. To Henry your presence in the lab has been as permanent as the white-tiled walls. Though you are his age, you have been there since the beginning—to lend some normalcy into his life, Brenner had claimed. Though, surely, you are not so ignorant as to believe anything about Henry is normal.

Nonetheless, you are a constant in Peter Ballard’s life. A rock that has stood even as Martin Brenner’s forest grew. Peter became taller, older, more deceitful. Together you raised the doctor’s saplings, fostered them with sunlight in the form of smiles.

And now, your relationship?

Well, it’s simple in its complexity. It’s peculiar in its secretiveness. Your private grins and unspoken jokes and the strange way you store a piece of your weird, mangled souls in each other.

But Brenner gets high off control. If not, what need does he have for the collars? The cameras? The rules? And when he loses his grip he suffers from withdrawal. And he can be so very cruel when he does not get his fix.

For a while, he pretended that that attraction did not exist. He chose not to see the proximity because with all of the power Brenner tells himself he possesses comes laziness.

“Don’t you think that if we all lined up on a checkerboard we would look like oversized chess pieces?” you murmur to Peter one afternoon—or at least that is what the clock claims—in the Rainbow Room.

The two of you stand against the wall with the twin doors, facing the mirror with its reflection of your white uniforms and a dozen shaved heads.

He chuckles quietly in amusement, the kind only you can earn. “If that’s the case, that would make us the King and Queen.”

You smile and your hands inch together. A fingernail brushes against a fingernail, but a pinprick of red light bores into your forehead and you do not dare to do anything more than whisper.

Brenner may be lazy, but he can also be sly and sneaky.

Two of the younger children colour on pristine sheets of paper. Flowers and suns, things they have never seen for themselves, are conjured from the coloured wax of the crayons they hold. Eleven drops a red disk into a numbered peg board, again and again. Two, Three, and Four toss a bean bag between them. Anything to cure their boredom.

Suddenly, the door is pushed open. It is not Martin Brenner, so the children do not rise. They continue their puttering and only the oldest look to see who caused the disturbance. Another Orderly addresses Peter.

“Your shift is over. I am here to take your place.”

Peter smiles, his beautiful lips stretched thin.

“I’ve been assigned a double shift today. Don’t worry about me, Ballard,” you say to his hesitance.

He smiles again and now his eyes crinkle too. Then he leaves and you are left to stand with this Orderly on opposite sides of the steel door as though the lab is the prison Brenner tries so hard to deny. You avoid staring at your own reflection because you have found that if you look at yourself for too long your reflection will become unrecognisable. And then the person across from you is alien, and will certainly drive you mad.

Before your thoughts can run around your head in dizzying loops, the children start yelling. Two and Three have stalked over to where Ten kneels surrounded by a fortress of blocks. Wooden walls will not protect him from entitlement.

“Move,” Two demands.

For a moment, Ten does not reply and you think he will ignore Two—that he will weather this onslaught. The silence permeates and is only broken by a soft whirring as the camera stationed in the corner of the room angles to watch the performance unfold.

For that same moment, you do not know what to do. Brenner has never liked Orderly interference in his children’s matters, always eager to see the extent of their capabilities, and of their rage. But then again, he will be undoubtedly upset if one of his assets is damaged.

“No,” Ten says.

In a swift movement Two kicks his block towers and they go sprawling on the floor. You and the other Orderly rush forward as Two takes Ten by his collar, yanking him up so quickly that he is not allowed time to yell, and his toes barely brush the tile.

“Say again?” Two snarls.

“Two, your behaviour is—” you start.

Two thrusts an arm outwards and the other Orderly flies backwards and into several chairs. You do not move. A rock.

Perhaps Two would have been surprised if he were not so busy spitting in the other boy’s face. “When I tell you to do something, you do it.”

Ten’s face hardens defiantly and you are almost envious. Where was this courage when you were a child? Did you lack Ten’s bravery or the fodder of the other children?

Two swings hard and his fist meets Ten’s cheek because in a deranged rage he must have forgotten that he is always being watched—or is the true reason more sinister?—and Ten is on the floor. Blood runs down his face and stains his teeth. Two appears drunk from adrenaline.

A grin is spreading across his face, arrogant and smug. But from the ground Ten throws a wooden block at his face. It cuts his eyebrow, its point digging into his skin and now he too is bleeding. Again, Two lunges forward like he is about to commit murder, but you are there, holding his shoulders and trying to push him against the wall. His hands fly up, your face stings as Two drags his fingernails across your skin.

Your fellow Orderly has since recovered and is holding Ten’s arms behind his back as though in the past three minutes the child has been traded for a criminal.

“Let go of me!” Two yells.

Your lips press together.

Startlingly, the doors fling open, Martin Brenner has arrived. Now, the children all jolt and stand in their lines.

“Hello, Papa,” they greet.

Even Two’s anger has waned in the presence of the doctor.

He speaks to the other Orderly first. “Please escort Two and Ten to the infirmary. I will have a chat with them later.”

Then he looks directly at you and juvenile fear seizes you, the kind you should have grown out of. “Come.”

You release Two. Approaching Brenner you do not look at the children, you try to relax your shoulders and raise your chin. Peter would not be afraid, you remind yourself. Brenner grasps your wrist in a handcuff not made of metal but flesh. Roughly, he pulls you from the Rainbow Room and down the hallway.

“You are here to protect them, Y/N, and today, you have failed to do that.”

There is no point in protesting nor is there a reason to sputter apologies. Simply, you allow him to drag you through the corridors of Hawkin’s Lab.

A collar of metal and wires is fixed around your neck, a bite guard in your mouth. You sit in a chair and an electrical shock races through your veins. Your nerves alight and already perspiration beads at your hairline.

Humiliation as you slide from the chair because your muscles spasm and you see Peter watching behind glass with an expression that discloses nothing. But in his eyes, you see horror. You tell yourself that you are not crying, and that the water that turns your vision bleary is the natural reaction to your situation.

Pain as your legs commit treason and kick in odd directions.

You count to yourself the seconds that pass. It is all manageable if the time you suffer is compartmentalised. When it is over and Brenner has left and Orderlies have taken the collar from your neck, Peter gathers you into his arms. He tucks his head into your neck and whispers into your ear. He does not tell you that you are okay because obviously you are not.

“I’m sorry.”

Still, your fingers twitch. Your head jerks periodically while your feet tingle.

He does not apologise again. He does not need to. Now it is certain that what you are extends past labels.

“They will not control us forever,” he promises. “Soon we will rule them all.”

Perhaps Henry Creel still wears barbs like a necklace, but his pledges to you are like a crown of thorns placed over your brow. Those who wear the crown of thorns will not be caged for long.

— m. list

#peter ballard #peter ballard x reader #henry creel #henry creel x reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #peter ballard fanfiction #henry creel fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #001 #001 fanfiction #001 x reader #x female reader #peter ballard x female reader

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milkstoner · 2 years

Text

it’s been a long day—what time is it? is the sun setting? is it already nighttime? where are you? everything about this image is confusing.

on your right, the windowed doors glow unnaturally, a very bright, bright yellow-orange, as if the walls inside contain the setting sun. why is it so bright? malleus, did you set fire to your room? it’s an unsettling light when you stop to wonder just what it is. it illuminates malleus beautifully, magically; he glows.

on your left, the night is a royal blue-purple abyss, unclear, thick like layers of paint that aren’t yet dry. it looks like a body of water, it looks like a blanket. it looks like velvet. it looks like, if one were to fall, they would get instantly swallowed by that nebulous purple mass. staring too much at that bottomless pit then directing your gaze back to that mysterious fiery light coming from inside has you confused; where does everything start? where does it end? when does material become immaterial? malleus cuts the scene in two and divides light and dark; he is right between them.

malleus is all dark secrets and abyssal leather, but in intimacy, you find him peeling off his layers. he started with his hat. next were his gloves, which he had worn all day; they molded to the shape of each of his fingers, clung to every bone and muscle, like a second skin. they reveal soft, untouched hands, carefully carved, strong yet delicate. he took his cape off his shoulders, then his belt and suspenders, a physical and symbolical burden, weighing him down, thick, heavy. he then undid the laces of his choker, which forces him to always keep his head up and never, ever look down; it restricted his movements all day. he can finally breathe and stretch his neck when he takes it off. the skin he reveals must be warm from having a thick fabric enveloping it all day. he then removed his boots, with their three inch heels, making him even taller, even greater; they are his pedestal, putting him above everybody. they force him to walk carefully, elegantly; when he removes them, he feels like his muscles can finally relax. next are his pants—yes, you can see just a bit of his calf… on his balcony, he lets himself be vulnerable; he slicks back his hair to reveal the scales on his forehead, the absolute proof of his royalty, the mark of a prestigious, powerful clan—that is his crown. he is now light and unburdened, but only one layer remains, his coat, held together by one zipper. it’s inviting, presenting itself to you. just one gesture, and he would come undone, and you would soon uncover all of him, like finding the core of a fruit.

my, what a beautiful, beautiful man… the reptilian curve of his cupid’s bow, his fangs showing in his smile, his pretty, genuine smile… a relaxed smile, a smile that enjoys the present moment. yes, it’s been a difficult few centuries, but the wind caressing his skin is precious. the time between day and night is for reflecting. it’s for stopping everything, stepping back, thinking it through, letting the light illuminate what is tangible and the night swallow what is intangible. his smile is that of a man who has not lost his spirit. there is joy and hope in him still, despite what his reputation says, despite all his duties, all the anxieties, all the worries, all the losses.

purple wisterias… love and longevity. he’s so close to getting it; friends may be mortal while he is eternal, but he is eternal along with the wind, along with the sky, along with the light. those things will never leave him. somebody needs to spell it out for him. he doesn’t realize it yet, but those flowers speak to him. the petals flow in the wind, they whisper a melody; let not your grief be your cage, for history will not wait for you as it turns the page. fleeting petals will become those you mourn, dancing to the rhythm of a new era, blooming in the rising morn. does he get it? surely not. he is ensorcelled by the tranquility brought by the wind; it takes with it all of his worries. he passively lets it take everything to the abyss behind him. his current problems will be for the malleus of tomorrow to figure out, and whatever happens tomorrow is none of his immediate concern.

malleus doesn’t know it yet, but he has control over himself. he doesn’t have to swallow his sorrow and let everything he loves pass him by. but saturating his mind, drowning his love in light—is it right? just behind him, the stone of the dorm’s castle blends with the night sky. perhaps it was never as simple as black and white.

also i found mickey

#malleus draconia #twisted wonderland #twst #malleus twst #twst malleus

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magnoliacharmed · 2 years

Text

Golden Boy

18+, Shawn Michaels x Billy Gunn one shot

[Also available on Archive of Our Own!]

Word count: 5054

Tags: Angst with a happy ending, self esteem issues, implied drug use, blow jobs, masturbation, condomless sex, praise kink (guess who has it. just guess.)

Summary:

Shawn Michaels' conflicting feelings for Billy Gunn are making his life a lot more difficult.

---

Looking briefly into Billy's gray-blue eyes earlier, Shawn had felt like the light was breaking through the angry storm clouds. He finally felt the warmth he'd been missing.

Author’s note:

also starring d-generation x!

shawn confirmed a bottom from his "my middle name is 'top this'!" promo. i don't make the rules

suspend your disbelief and pretend that shawn didn't take that break for a few years in the late 90s/early 00s! haha i didn't know how to reconcile that.

There was something about Billy Gunn that everyone loved. He was just a nice fucking guy. His smile was sincere, his laugh never mocking, his energy fun. The worst part about it all was that he never had to try to be that man. He just was. Nobody had a bad word to say about Gunn.

It drove Shawn insane.

So what, he was "nice"? Anybody could pretend to be nice. Shawn had managed just fine at it for years now. He was likable enough. Ever since Billy joined D-Generation X though, Shawn's facade began to crack. Fake, fake, fake. Shawn couldn't even look in a mirror at himself without picking at all his flaws. He wasn't old by any stretch of the imagination. But his hard lifestyle was going to catch up with him soon enough if he didn't slow down. When he got sick of his own face screwing up at itself, he'd lay in the dark and replay the day's events. He'd be flying high when Hunter and X-Pac nodded away at everything he said, chuckling at his jokes. The sounds would echo through the hall for everyone to hear. Eat that, Billy. You may be in the crew, but you'll never be a part of it.

Then Billy would make an offhand comment and the whole locker room would double over in pain from laughing so hard. Chyna's smile stretched from ear to ear whenever Gunn was around her. Road Dogg stuck by his side like a pathetic leech. They acted like the sun shined out of his ass.

Shawn's eyes burned in his sockets. The pain didn't even bother him any more. The muscles in jaw were shot to hell from mashing on his gum. The mint flavoring was giving him a stomach ache, flips and turns bounding around in his lower body. The acid felt like it was burning him from inside out. It was the gum. A shitty brand he didn't usually choose. That's all they had at the local gas station so he was stuck. Yes, it was definitely that and not the image of Billy standing near him in the mirror pulling his white-blond hair into a ponytail. He was chewing gum too, the muscles in his neck moving below his skin hypnotically. Shawn was 99% sure his eye twitched at the sight of it.

"Shawn… Shawn. You okay?"

Very suddenly, Gunn was face to face with Shawn. He cocked his head to the side like a puppy, the curls of his ponytail following the movement. There was concern painted on his face plainly. Shawn hated how the taller man could wear his heart on his sleeve like that. It'd been a long, long time since he could be so open. A wicked thought passed through his head, that one day Billy too would go through the same pain as him. One day he wouldn't be so happy-go-lucky. It happens to everyone. At least, that's what Shawn had to tell himself over the years.

"What? I'm fine, man."

"Okay, I just wanted to make sure. You were staring into the distance."

"Thanks." Shawn's voice was clipped. Get the fuck out of my face.

Billy couldn't seem to catch the hint. He instead leaned down to reach into his duffel bag, the smooth, tanned skin of his back shining under the harsh backstage lighting. Shawn had to shut his eyes at the sight of it.

Billy rose up with a pack of gum resting in his hand. It was Shawn's favorite brand. The bright red of the packaging signified that it was his favorite flavor too, cinnamon. The smell of it wafting off the pack and from Billy was beginning to be too much.

"Do you wanna trade? I hate cinnamon, but it's all the liquor store had left. I wanted spearmint."

Shawn dug into the pocket of his slacks for the gum. He was happy to get it off his hands. Maybe his jaw would stop hurting so bad once he got the new--

Something that felt like hot lava and the brightest strike of lightning zipped through Shawn's heart. It struck his brain and flowed down to his cock in a millisecond. The little voices in his head-- the mean one, the self-loathing one, the needy one-- all ceased.

Shawn's pupils dropped to focus on his fingers. They were… touching Billy's. While they were handing off the gum. Touching. Still.

Billy took the spearmint gum from Shawn gently. The rest of the world blurred around Gunn's figure while Shawn watched him unwrap a new piece. Billy raised the shiny silver wrapper to his lips to press his tongue, the tip of it covered in the pinkish wad of cinnamon gum, to the surface of it. Billy's tongue was at half speed as it moved back into his mouth. Like he was teasing Shawn. Wait, was he? A new piece was in his mouth now.

Shawn was pretty sure the blue was going to drain right out of his irises if he stood there straining himself any further. With no words, not even a thanks, he walked away from Billy squeezing the cinnamon gum in his fist.

Shawn could barely speak for the rest of the day. Hunter and Chyna whispered to each other about him. He didn't appreciate their lack of discretion about it. They were really loud. Might as well have just said out loud, "Shawn, what's your problem?" It's not like it was the first time he had an attitude. More often than not recently, he always had an attitude. Nobody could figure out why, so they made stuff up. The obvious rumors around the locker room were his drug problems. Yeah, okay, maybe. He had to start taking more and more Soma for it to actually work and he was incredibly irritable when he didn't have enough. It was better for them to think that he was a junkie.

In reality, it didn't have much to do with the drugs at all. The world around him was changing a lot faster than he realized. The new millennium was approaching in a flash. What did he have to show for it? The belts he'd won were nice. The media attention fueled his inflated ego. His friends had his back no matter how shitty of a person he could be. For Shawn, it was never enough. Nothing was ever enough for him. Until earlier.

The way Billy had looked at him lit something up that had been dormant for a long while. It made Shawn's head pound. Out of all the people in the whole world, it had to be Billy Gunn. Annoying, frustratingly charming, perfectly sculpted, Billy Gunn.

WWF's golden retriever of a man was no longer well pampered and doted on. Ever since Shawn's drug problem had gotten worse, McMahon punished him. He pushed him out into the street and let him fend for himself like a stray. The rain kept pouring down on him and he didn't know how to make it stop. Looking briefly into Billy's gray-blue eyes earlier, Shawn had felt like the light was breaking through the angry storm clouds. He finally felt the warmth he'd been missing. This time it felt real. This wasn't the warmth he got from McMahon, a heat lamp sort of warmth that could be switched off any time. This was the sun.

Hot tears pricked in the corners of Shawn's eyes. This was too much all at once. Thank God he could finally be alone in his hotel room. Looking into the hotel mirror he expected those self-conscious feelings to darken his features again. Instead though, his wet lashes blinked in awe at himself. There was hope. Hope…

Shawn frantically grabbed through his pockets to search for his gum. He threw his keys, wallet, pills, and jewelry out onto the bed with worry. Where was it? It was just there. He squinted at his wallet on his bed, the red pack hiding behind it. Shawn took out two pieces of it and began to chew like his life depended on it. For the first time in his life, he actually wished it was spearmint. Just so he could know how Billy's tongue tasted. The memory of Gunn's pressing his gum against his wrapper kept playing in Shawn's mind. It was so pink.

Blood rushed to Shawn's dick again. Conflicting feelings of hate, inadequacy, and lust ping-ponged in his brain. With how hard he was, he had to admit that Billy got him going in the worst way. Fine. Now he could move on from that. As if Billy would want him anyways. Even if he did, Billy wouldn't be able to handle him. That "sexy boy" stuff wasn't just for the cute little song. The one thing Shawn never lost his confidence in were his skills in bed. No matter who he was with, men or women, or if he was on top or bottom he blew everyone's mind. Whatever to the fact that it wasn't enough to make them stay. They'd never forget him and that was more important.

Shawn began to palm himself through his pants, his eyes fluttering closed and his head falling back. He tried to make the image of Billy on his knees in front of him work, but it just wasn't coming to fruition. The pieces seemed to click together when the roles were reversed. Shawn's dishwater blond hair fell out of his face as he looked up into Billy's eyes while his tongue swirled around his cock. Billy's fingers smoothed along Shawn's hair with every lick and he smiled at the man below him in that same sincere way Shawn loved. Loved to hate, of course.

The Billy of Shawn's mind was so infuriatingly gentle. He was used to the rough stuff. Sometimes that was exactly what he wanted, but other times he wished he got to be treated a little nicer. Everyone was so used to his reputation that he didn't know how to express that without looking weak. But Gunn just knew. Billy placed his hands on either side of Shawn's face, never once breaking eye contact with him. Even when Shawn took Billy's cock down his throat Billy tried his hardest not to blink.

"You're so good, Shawn. My good boy. So beautiful…"

With that, Shawn came in his pants. He thought he was going to collapse on the floor with the way his knees buckled. Falling on the bed in front him, Shawn didn't even care that his keys were poking into his stomach or that he was uncomfortably sticky. The warmth was shining down on him.

---

A week later, Shawn still couldn't get Billy out of his mind. Whenever they were on TV together he acted as normal as possible. Even when he was around all of DX at a bar or restaurant he could keep it together. Being alone with Billy was a no go. He blamed his recent up and down mood on trying to quit Soma, which everyone was surprised at. That made him feel both awful and proud of himself. No one thought he could do it. One day he really would prove that he could.

Billy was trying his best to reach out to Shawn. He was so guarded beneath that playboy exterior. Talking to the other wrestlers, the only ones who seemed to really understand why were Chyna and Hunter. They didn't go into detail but did mention that Shawn had been hurt in the past. Billy couldn't understand who would want to hurt him. Despite him having the tendency to be a huge asshole at times, there was a lot of good about Shawn. Billy liked the little flashes of Shawn's sweet personality. He appreciated how he put his all into selling it when he was in the ring. There was an it-factor about Shawn that Billy wished he had. In Billy's night sky, Shawn was the brightest and biggest star.

It was pure luck that Shawn's favorite flavor was cinnamon. He thanked every deity he could when Shawn agreed to trade flavors. With the way Shawn had been staring at him he thought that as soon as he approached him, the shorter man would knock him out. Shawn instead maintained his tightly wound demeanor, barely speaking or moving. When their fingers touched Billy was ready to grab Shawn right there. He could tell that it made Shawn feel something. He made Shawn feel something. It was confirmed when Shawn left in a rush.

Since that moment Billy hadn't been able to break through again. Whenever he tried to speak to Shawn someone interrupted the conversation. The tight little shorts he wore into the ring were doing him no favors. Every time he was around Shawn he got so hard it hurt. It was difficult to distract himself with anything besides the thought of making Shawn say his name.

Billy was shaken out of his dilemma ridden thoughts by X-Pac.

"Hey, you going out tonight with us to the bar? We're on match two of the best three out of five drinking contest, me and Hunter."

Billy laughed out loud at this. "You and Hunter? Good luck. You'll get alcohol poisoning before you win against him."

"You think so? I won a couple nights ago." Pac raised his hand up to his chin and rubbed it in deep thought. This was obviously a big source of pride for him.

"As much as I'd like to see that, I'm staying in tonight. I'm feeling a little worn out."

Pac shrugged, then patted Billy's shoulder sympathetically. "Hope you feel better, Billy. If you change your mind, we'll be downtown. We're gonna bar crawl. Page me and I'll let you know where we're at."

Billy shook his head idly while Pac walked away. He blew loose strands of his hair out of his face in frustration. There was no way he could spend another night out with Shawn pretending like he didn't have feelings for the man. Especially if both of them got drunk. He'd rather sulk alone in his room if that was the prospect. If he couldn't have Shawn sober and present when they were together, he couldn't be with him.

Shawn walked down the hallway with a lost look on his face. His own thoughts were a little jumbled up. Chyna had invited him out to the drinking contest too, jokingly begging him to come so she wouldn't have to deal with taking care of a sloshed Hunter all by herself. He turned her down with a whisper. She hugged Shawn tight and squeezed his hand.

"You can talk to me about anything, you know that right?"

Shawn sighed and nodded his head. "I know. One day I'll tell you all about it."

After that conversation, Shawn walked around the arena in confusion. He was so antsy over the last few days. It'd been a solid month since he'd had a good match. The lack of physical contact was making him feel funny. What did he have to do to prove to McMahon that he'd be in good enough shape to get back in the squared circle and be the WWF champion?

Shawn smacked right into Gunn's oiled up chest. He shook his head, his hair flying around him in soft waves. That's all it took for Billy's shorts to get tight again.

Shawn muttered out a raspy "sorry" at Billy. He was too mentally exhausted to exert any outward feelings of hate towards him. They simmered now instead of burned, the coals in Shawn's stomach finally giving out. He still strongly disliked the man, the bright sun in everyone's sky.

"That's okay. How are you?"

"I'm… fine. Why do you care?"

"You've been looking a little down lately. I'd hate for anyone in the group to be feeling bad."

So caring. There was no way anyone could actually be this good of a person. No fucking way. Shawn knew how awful people could get.

"Yeah, I'm good."

The pair stood there awkwardly. They had managed to find the one empty hallway in the whole stadium, so there was no reason to escape. Billy was the first to break the extending silence.

"You going out tonight with the rest of them? Hunter and Pac are having a drinking contest."

For the first time all day Shawn cracked a smile. "I was there the other night when Pac won. Between you and me, he cheated. He ate a big meal before going out and Hunter didn't get the chance to."

"Not surprised. As small as he is, he's not beating anyone fair."

The two men laughed at the harmless ribbing. Billy was on top of the world at Shawn's thousand watt smile. The taller man had a soft look in his eyes that made Shawn feel fuzzy.

"I'm staying in my room tonight though. Kinda tired, you know how it is."

"Definitely. I'm actually gonna stay in too."

Shawn hummed. Billy was so easy. This had to be fate. If he invited Billy to his room, they could fuck each other's brains out and Shawn could get over this weird little hate-crush he had on him. Perfect.

"Well… if you get bored, stop by my room. I'm in 1724." Shawn had that sparkle in his eyes he got whenever he was being a flirt. He dropped his eyes down to Billy's crotch, then to put the cherry on top he winked up at him playfully. Billy's mouth fell open in shock. This was really happening.

"Alright. I might take you up on that."

Might, Shawn scoffed internally.

---

Shawn wasn't nervous. Why the fuck would he be nervous about someone who calls himself Mr. Ass?

He was pacing around his hotel room because he hadn't taken any Soma in a few hours. And he was hungry. And he was trying to break in his new shoes. Not because of Billy.

As soon as he knocked on the door, Shawn ran over to open it. He looked up at Billy in his casual clothes and wanted to sigh. Shawn knew handsome. He knew it because he looked at it in the mirror everyday. But Billy was a different kind of handsome. To Shawn, Billy was football quarterback hot and just as sweet and oblivious as one. Billy probably would have laughed at hearing that. Shawn wracked his mind to figure out how to tell him.

Although Billy had been enjoying Shawn's suit jackets and dress shirts, he did miss the colorful tights Shawn used to wear into the ring. Billy was on another planet when Shawn did a little strip tease on TV wearing his black ones, his cock leaking right into his pants. It had morphed into a fantasy for Billy. He couldn't even count how many times he got off to Shawn dancing in front of him that same way.

"You actually came."

"Yeah. You thought I wouldn't?"

Shawn shrugged. Whether he did or didn't, whatever. He didn't care. Now what? Shawn figured he might as well leap right into the fire.

"I saw how hard you were for me earlier. You really are a big guy."

Billy's cheeks immediately reddened. Those stupid shorts finally got him in trouble. He didn't know what to say as Shawn inched closer to him.

The crystal blue of Shawn's eyes glittered in the low lighting. "You hard for me right now?" Shawn's hand reached out to rub at Billy.

A groan got caught in Billy's throat. "Ah-- you know I am."

"I know you are, baby."

Shawn moved his hands back to his body to unbutton his shirt. He took his sweet time, reveling in Billy's hungry looks at him. Billy's eyes threatened to pop right out of his head at seeing the smattering of light brown hair on Shawn's chest and stomach.

"Get on your knees." Billy could barely get the words out. Shawn complied, his fantasy from the previous week playing out perfectly. Deep down within him he hoped that Billy would be just as gentle with him.

Billy's dick sprang forward at Shawn. He felt his eyes cross at the length of it. Geez, he knew he'd be big but not like this. It was leaking onto the carpet. Shawn's mind twisted at how aroused he made Billy. With a kiss at the tip of him, Billy's moan filled the room. That was exactly what Shawn needed to hear. The inside of Shawn's mouth was so hot it was verging on being uncomfortable. He'd only put the tip in so far but he was sucking at it with force, hollowing his cheeks around him.

There was no way Billy was going to be able to stand the whole time. He collapsed on the bed, forcing himself to sit up to watch Shawn crawl over to him. He smiled at the smaller man like he had just gotten done running a marathon. It made Shawn's heart beat out of his chest. He swirled his tongue around the underside of Billy's cock as he swallowed him down. He wanted to hear him come undone above him. Billy's chest puffed in and out every time his dick touched the back of Shawn's throat.

"Shawn, fuck. You're so pretty."

The pads of Billy's thumbs ran along Shawn's cheekbones. It was too intimate. Shawn gagged and hummed around the length of Billy in an attempt to get him to stop. Billy moved his hands to play in Shawn's hair. Everyone always wanted to grab and pull it when he was giving them oral. It wasn't his favorite thing, but it was another part of putting on the show. Shawn's eye twitched when Billy didn't grab but instead kept smoothing it and massaging at his scalp. Too nice, too nice, too nice--

Billy suddenly pulled out of Shawn's mouth and raised the smaller man up to pull him on top.

"Off… take your pants off…"

Billy fumbled at Shawn's zipper and thrust his slacks down. Shawn pulled them the rest of the way down in a fog. He was realizing this was not going to be the quick, one-track minded fumbling he thought it would be. Billy wanted him. All of him. Billy kissed Shawn's neck then moved up to plant little kisses all over his face. He pressed his lips against Shawn's and was shocked when he jerked his head away.

"That's okay, that's okay. I won't do it again. Only if you want me to." Billy breathed.

He flipped Shawn over onto his back and raised up onto his knees to take his shirt off. Shawn was pretty sure Billy was a Greek god who was living out his days on Earth because he was bored in Olympus. That could be the only explanation why Billy made Shawn feel so heady and intoxicated at something as simple as a shirt being taken off. Billy sure felt like a god with the way Shawn blinked at him while he did it.

"There's lube on my bathroom counter." Shawn pointed into the other room.

Billy tried not to short circuit as he raised off the bed to go into the bathroom. He almost tripped over himself returning to Shawn, fumbling with the lid of the container. Shawn so badly wanted to laugh at him, but it was kind of sweet to see how excited he was. Billy squeezed some out into his hand and began to stroke himself on his knees above Shawn. He shut his eyes and twisted his hand around his cock trying to mentally prepare himself for what was next. Shawn took the opportunity to readjust himself by getting on all fours even though he'd miss the view. Billy was probably wanting to look in his eyes and kiss him and all that mushy stuff that Shawn just couldn't handle. Not yet.

Just as Shawn expected, he was unsurprised when Billy said "I wanted to see your face." Too bad, Gunn. I'm running the show here. Shawn arched up at him in apology.

"This is a nice view too, though." Shawn felt the weight of the bed shift below him as Billy leaned down to kiss the tattoo on his ass. He was so… sentimental. Why wouldn't he just fuck him and leave like everyone else?

Shawn pushed those thoughts out of his mind when Billy's finger began to slick against his hole. He could hear Billy muttering above him but couldn't quite make it out. Soon his finger was replaced by the tip of Billy's cock, so warm that it felt hot. Shawn took a deep breath as Billy slowly pushed inside of him.

It'd been a while since he'd been fucked by someone so big. Or fucked at all, really. He made a high pitched noise that made Billy stop dead above him.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, dammit. Keep going, please," Shawn begged.

Billy gripped Shawn's hips and filled him to the hilt. At that moment, it was like he died and went to heaven. That's what had to be happening here. Shawn was so tight around him he had a hard time thrusting. Once he finally caught the rhythm, he had no problem hitting Shawn's prostate. With every bump against it, Shawn groaned and gripped his fingers into the sheets. His pronounced arch kept falling away, but Shawn was a trooper. Every time he lost it he arched back up and pushed himself against Billy to get him deeper. He caught the bigger man right as he thrusted into him and let out a scream he was sure the room next to him could hear. Fuck it.

Billy reached down to grab Shawn's cock. It was twitching below him and looking just as pretty as the rest of him. Billy had dreamed too many times of feeling it in his hand to not start stroking the man the way he stroked himself, slow and twisting. Tears started to stream down Shawn's face at the pleasure. He rubbed his face into the sheets to dry them away. When he raised up again he turned his head around to look at Billy's face and groan his name.

Billy had to stare up at the ceiling. If he looked at Shawn's face or back down at the tattoo for a second longer he was done right then and there, and it wasn't time for that yet. It was close, but he just needed one more thing…He used the little force he had left in his weakening muscles to flip Shawn onto his back. He bared down on the man below him, shaking his hair out and raising one of Shawn's legs up for a better angle. Shawn could barely comprehend what was going on, but he did miss the feeling of Billy's rough hand against his dick.

"I want you to look at me, Shawn. Look at me, please," Billy kissed Shawn's cheek and entered him again.

They were too close! Billy was such a weirdo, but he'd give this weirdo whatever he needed. So Shawn blinked his long lashes at him and stared into his eyes. Billy smiled again. He was slower this time, annoyingly. Shawn knew he was going to come soon. He was getting to the limit himself.

"You're beautiful." Billy kissed Shawn's other cheek.

Shawn shifted below him. He wanted to cry at being called beautiful. He didn't deserve such sweet words from a guy like Billy. How did he see anything good in him? Because he was just that cool of a guy. It made Shawn soften. He didn't dislike Billy. Not at all. He liked him quite a bit. Shawn just didn't like himself. But Billy did. When no one else really liked Shawn, Billy did. He was still nice to him even when he barked back after all this time.

"Kiss me," Shawn whispered.

Before he could even get the last word out, Billy gently pressed his lips against Shawn's. The kiss hastily deepened, tongues swirling around each other like they'd never be able to kiss each other again. Billy lost his breath and had to break it to catch it again. As soon as he saw the completely open and vulnerable look on Shawn's face…

Snap!

Billy pulled out of Shawn just in time to paint his stomach with his come. The sight of it in Shawn's happy trail would be burned into his memory until the end of time. Shawn looked at the mess with awe while Billy began to stroke him again.

"Oh, Shawn. God, you're amazing. You did such a good job for me. You made me feel like I was on top of the world. Now I wanna make you feel good. You deserve it, baby."

Billy removed his hand and placed his mouth around Shawn's cock just as he released. He copied that thing Shawn did when he hollowed his cheeks out, making him almost jolt off the bed. Billy happily swallowed all of Shawn's come and kissed the tip of him before taking his mouth off.

Shawn was completely spent. All he could do was look up at the ceiling and try to make sense of what just happened. Billy managed to climb out of the bed and head to the bathroom to get a warm, wet towel for Shawn. He shut the door behind him and took a minute to replay everything. It was a blur right now, but he was sure he'd remember every little thing over the next few days.

When Billy exited the bathroom, he returned to see Shawn knocked out. Seeing him like that and knowing he did it was better than winning the belt. He took care to clean Shawn up as carefully as possible to not wake him.

---

The next morning, Shawn felt the warmth of the sun surrounding him on all sides. That was strange, he couldn't help but think. He squinted his eyes at the rays beaming through the windows. When he turned away from them, he had the surprise of his life seeing Billy lying beside him in a deep sleep.

He stayed.

No one stayed.

No one except Billy.

Shawn nuzzled against his chest and fell back asleep quickly.

#shawn michaels x billy gunn #shawn michaels #billy gunn #wrestling #wrestling fanfic #wwe fanfic #wwe #90s wwf #wwf #wwe smut #wrestling smut #wwe billy gunn #wwe shawn michaels #magnoliafanfic

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russilton · 1 year

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5, 8, 24 (other than dantteri)

You should have seen the response I wrote you last night at 3am when I was over emotional and overheated, but tumblr told me to get fucked and deleted it rather than posting, so here we go again

8. Valewis or Britcedes

*looks at blog name, icon, banner, ao3, art posts, reblogs, pinned* idk I don’t like either anon

All jokes aside I don’t hate valewis, I get it a lot, hell I work platonic valewis into every fic it’ll work in. I love all three of them interacting and chase it with an intensity best described as “dog smelling cheese”

But Britcedes is… it’s hero worship yes but it’s hero worship that becomes rock solid partnership. From seeing someone as your unshakeable hero to meeting them and loving them more as your equal than ever before. It’s about George meeting Lewis not only with immovable loyalty but also the confidence to push back and press Lewis, provide him with a challenge that Lewis will admit he loves. George doesn’t just fall over himself to let Lewis lead, he challenges him, makes Lewis think, makes him feel younger and more ready for the challenge of the track than ever.

It’s about Lewis having to face being loved by his teammate while competing, and the mortifying ideal of being known by someone even with the vulnerability that they may use it against him, because George would rather throw himself in front of the bus than Lewis under it. It’s love found in an unexpected place and George reigniting a fire in him he worried was beginning to die out.

It’s also Lewis being the only person George trusts when he tells George to loosen the noose of expectation he tied around his own neck- because lewis can’t pull the stool under his feet if he does. Lewis walked that road and knows it well- he’s the one that can tell George “you have time, and you need to exist off the track” and George listens with a desperation of an elastic band stretches to breaking.

They meet one another at a time both of them are trying to be the best versions of themselves, as everyone tries to pit them against each other. It works because they make it work.

Platonic valewis is amazing and wonderful and great- but it’s just not them

5. Charlos or Piarles

Piarles by a wide margin. I’m not like, a diehard lover of it, but I’m meh on pierre while actively disliking sainz so…

Plus I love the “gay or European�� vibes Pierre and Charles have going on. Pierre looks like he says no homo unironically and Charles two brain cells are too busy fighting for dominance to consider if blowjobs make you gay

24. Underrated ship you like?

I answered Albutton for another ask so for this one I’m gonna bend the rules and go for my favourite f2 ship- Jack Doohan/Frederik Vesti. The barely interact except on the podiums they share but the fact they’ve shared SEVERAL and Jack always stares at Fred with a look best described as “that oh moment” is all the fuel I need. I’m a sucker for himbo jock and shy one, made all the funnier by Fred being an inch taller. This boat only has like 5 people but two of them are Kyle and I shouting at the top of our lungs so it works

Ask me F1 silly asks

#asks #anonymous #mark talks Britcedes #mark talks ships #ask games

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allator-ad · 5 months

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So this is a little unedited and abandoned work I was chipping away at but kind of lost the plot on. I don't wanna put it on ao3 since it's not much, but I feel bad just letting it fester in the WIP hell, so here we go!

Warnings for NSFW text, on ao3 it would be rated M not E but it's spicy. The focus is on Tango but there's a decent amount of Zed and a fair amount of Gem and Impulse. I don't think it needs any trigger warnings but if you think of any lmk and I'm happy to add!

It started out innocuous enough, one of the little parties that tended to pop up here and there on the server. Bring a dish to share, drinks provided, music, dancing, yadda yadda etc etc. Just your normal, standard, everyday party. Except for the two words scrawled on the bottom corner of the invite. 'Dress Down.'

Those two simple words sent a shiver down Tango's spine, and in his head he was already running through dozens of scenarios. True, he still had a couple hours to plan, but between indecisiveness and his inability to keep proper track of time, it was probably better to start picking out his outfit sooner rather than later. And doing that would hopefully keep his mind off of... other things as well. At least he was exempt from the potluck rule.

A few short hours later and he was stood outside the grand front entrance to Gem's elven castle, shuffling from foot to foot as he waited. Thankfully it didn't take long before Gem appeared, with a delighted cry of "Tango!" she cleared the last few feet between them and wrapped him up in a hug.

"I'm so glad you were able to make it, oh, you look amazing!"

"Heh, thanks." And he had to admit, he did look pretty damn good. He'd spent most of the time between receiving the invite and now fussing over what to wear and how to do himself up, and he'd settled on a simple but effective outfit.

His top was a skintight sleeveless black turtleneck, complete with cutout window that could only just barely be considered appropriate, showing off plenty of skin and the tuft of fur on his chest. He had waffled between skirt or pants and eventually settled on the latter, skintight as well. They were high rise, belt resting around his middle to allow for another cutout that showed off his tummy and more fur, if he really stretched they'd ride down low enough to flash a glimpse at what was just underneath. The pants also had a series of slashes along the outer thigh from hip to knee, stopping just above his knee-length combat boots. Which may or may not have been taller versions of what he wore already, but hey, it worked.

The whole ensemble was topped off with an array of chains and belts in teal, aqua, and silver, and a shorter replica of his dungeon master robe in the style of a thick, fluffy shrug. To finish off the look he had a light layer of lipstick, and a decent eyeliner and mascara. The last was probably unnecessary, but he liked the look when it ran, and if tonight went anything like he expected it certainly would.

"You ready to go in?" Gem asked once she released him, and when he nodded she held up the finishing touch. He swallowed and tilted his chin up as she fastened the thin red collar around his neck. "Sorry, it's your old one, we didn't get the one in your new colors made in time."

"Nah, it's fine." He waved off her concern with a flick of his wrist, then choked when she hooked a finger through the D ring on the collar and *tugged*.

"We don't wanna keep everyone waiting!" How she could still be so cheery and level headed about something like this he could never understand, but obediently he followed after her, tail flicking and curling behind him in anticipation for what was about to come. Hah.

Gem had transformed one of the empty rooms in her castle for the party, and his eyes went wide as he saw the setup. Oh, he hoped she kept this. Lights hung from the ceiling, dim enough to cast corners into shadow without making visibility impossible. Chairs, tables, and couches were arranged tastefully around the room, a clear designation between the socializing and dining area, and the 'socializing' area. Everything was draped in soft, sheer fabrics, and the music was at the perfect volume to still be heard but allow for easy conversation.

Gem released her hold on Tango's collar and winked. "There's probably enough time for you to grab a bite and a drink before the entertainment is needed, but I think you better hurry." She was right, as he looked around he noticed a few of the other hermits had already showed up, Etho parked in one of the dark corners while Impulse and Pearl were chatting idly on a couch. He debated food for a moment before deciding against it, probably not a good idea until after everyone had their fun. And there go his thoughts again, running through the possibilities tonight would bring, forcing him to muffle a light whimper. Seeing as he had nothing to do for the moment but wait, he chose one of the empty couches tucked further out of the way and leaned his head back, settled in until he was needed.

Time passed as he drifted, lost to his own thoughts until a body settled beside him, hand resting on his thigh.

"Hello hello," he heard from somewhere above and to the left of him, and when he zoned back in enough to be properly aware of his surroundings he was greeted with the grinning face of Zedaph, nose wrinkled in that way it always did when he got excited. "Is this seat taken?"

"No, not at all." At the confirmation Zed's grin widened, and his hand slid up so that his thumb was tucked into the stomach cutout of Tango's pants, making Tango shiver and swallow.

"Glad to hear! I noticed you over here all by your lonesome and figured I'd come see why." Oh fuck, now that thumb was moving in maddening little circles, and he had to fight to stay focused on the conversation.

"Oh, y'know, just enjoying the party."

"All by yourself? But you don't even have any food or drink! You can't be having that much fun."

"Eh, I manage."

"Well if you don't mind I think I'd like to finish up my meal here. And then," he leaned in and licked his lips, eyes hooded, and for how ridiculous it looked Tango should *not* find it sexy, but he still heard himself let out a low whine as Zed continued. "I think you look like an absolutely delicious desert."

"Works for me!" Tango squeaked out, and like a switch flipped Zed pulled back, expression brightening to his usual carefree grin.

"Excellent! I'll be right with you then." He withdrew fully, meaning his hand was no longer slowly driving Tango up the wall, a blessing and a curse. After a deep breath Tango took the reprive to gather his wits, probably not a good idea to fall apart so early in the night after all.

It didn't take long before hands were on him again, this time grabbing his hips and hauling him into Zed's lap.

"Well then! Let's see what kind of trouble we can get up to, shall we?"

Not even bothering to wait for an answer he yanked Tango into a kiss, and where normally Tango would fight and play, tonight he melted into it immediately, letting Zed lick into his mouth without any resistance. Clearly it was appreciated, as one of Zed's hands left his hip to stroke along the base of his tail, making him groan into the kiss.

As usual, it only took a few moments for Zed to get another idea, and he trailed kisses along Tango's jaw until he reached his neck.

"Well that's just rude now, isn't it? Wearing a shirt that covers up so much? Would anyone happen to have a knife?"

So much of his focus had been on Zed that Tango had failed to notice the other hermits congregating around the pair. Scar had pulled over a dining chair and had Grian perched in his lap. Both were intently watching the scene unfolding. Impulse, Gem, and Pearl were still seated at one of the tables, but all three were throwing glances over during lulls in their conversation. A few other hermits were scattered about, but he was stopped from paying much more attention when Etho leaned over the back of the couch to hand Zedaph a knife.

"Ah! Thank you very much. Chin up pet, we wouldn’t want to slice up your pretty skin, now would we?" His grin went sharp as Tango obeyed with a shudder, and he pulled the thin material of his shirt far enough away to make a slice from the top of his neck to where the shirt ended at his shoulder. "At least, not just yet."

Once the fabric had been cut Zed returned the knife to Etho, then immediately latched onto Tango's now-exposed neck with glee. Tango jolted, then moaned as blunt teeth nibbled at his neck. It didn't take long before he was a squirming mess, leaning into wherever Zed's hands were roaming at the moment. At a particularly harsh bite he gasped, grinding his hips down into Zed's below him.

As if it was some kind of signal, a heavy hand descended on his shoulder and a body pressed against his back.

"And what do we have here?" Tango tried to lean his head back to look, but with Zed still demolishing his neck and the hand on his shoulder moving to grip his hair and hold him still, it was impossible. "Letting someone cut up your nice outfit just to go to town on you? Slut."

He wheezed, air knocked out of him like a punch to the gut as the word rattled around in his skull. Slut. He'd never really been on the receiving end of that word before, but with the whole body shudder and desperate grind of his hips, clearly it did something for him. Good to know.

A tug of the hand in his hair pulled him out of his head, and he fumbled as he was pulled from Zed's lap.

"Hey! I wasn't done with him yet!"

"Too bad! You were taking too long, and besides," he was spun around to stare up (and up and up) into Impulse's eyes, and he had to stifle a moan at the expression he saw there. A thumb brushed over his lips and he obediently parted them to let it rest on his tongue. "I can think of a better use for our slut here than just keeping your lap warm and your mouth occupied."

He was pushed down to his knees on the couch, and a pouting Zedaph shuffled to make room as Impulse stepped into Tango's space even more, crowding him in. This received immediate boos from their audience, Scar and Grian now joined by Pearl and Gem.

"What’s the point of all this if we can't even get a show," Grian heckled, and with a roll of his eyes Impulse grabbed Tango by the arms and *lifted* him, adjusting their positions until he was the one seated on the couch and Tango was on his knees on the floor between Impulse's legs.

"Is the peanut gallery happy now?" A few cheers and smattering of light applause, and thenI Impulse had his hand fisted in Tango's hair again, grip just enough to be on the right side of painful. "Good, now I think our entertainment for the evening should show us what he can do with that whore mouth of his."

#ADllatorAlliterature #ta.ngo #ze.daph #im.pulse #ge.m

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