#too smokey to stay outside and draw

[rixsjwb]

smokey geto, university au

at around 2 p.m., you wake up to the smell of smoke, specifically from a cigarette.

as you feel the sleepiness in your eyes seemingly never going away. You don't fully register what's going on until you eventually sat up. to find yourself sleeping on sugurus bed, while he sat right next to you while satoru played video games with shoko. sukuna and toji scrolling on their phones occasionally showing each other funny videos.

it was weird seeing them not throwing insults at each other and wanting to commit mass murder on one another, as you laid flat on your side, you used your arms too supporting you upright, you couldn't even full take in where to place your hands and you just put it anywhere you could, while doing so your hand lands on something solid and you hear a groan emit from the object.

it was suguru.

your hand had landed on his lower abdomen when trying to sit yourself up, "m'sorry." You say muffled tiredness still lingering in your voice. Your eyes start to see the hazey looking air, thinking your eyes are playing tricks on you, you waft the air in front of you while rubbing your eyes.

you feel yourself come crashing down when the energy you had left, left your body. your head coming in contact with the soft mattress, but you could see suguru in your view of looking up at the ceiling. you could feel his hand running in between the strands of your hair, almost lulling you back to sleep.

but the smoke in the air that starts to go down your lungs caused a violent cough to erupt out of you, drawing most of your friends to check up on you.

"You okay?" satoru asked, the cigarette limply slaying out of his mouth now, gone, as he held it between his index and middle finger. you mumble something that was intelligible, dragging the warm blanket with you too the living room to get more sleep, as the room was pretty much a widefire once the flames were put out, so much smoke.

you never liked when your friends did smoked. not only for their heath but yours too, obviously you don't want to force them too stop, I mean, shokos have been smoking since freshman year, do you really think they'll stop smoking on your request? probably not. Who knows?

as you snuggled up on the couch, the silent aura carried around the living room. You hear the soft click of a door opening and soft footsteps coming closer to you.

you grab the blanket and throw it over your entire face so not a limb is outside of the blanket, but when you feel a hand rest just above you, the blanket acting like a barrier, you start to tug and shove the person throwing their weight on you. you chuckle at their attempt to rip the blanket off you. but eventually, you remove it from your face to see who exactly it is.

"What are you doing here?" You ask tone muffled and quiet even with nothing covering your mouth, "m'wanted peace n' quiet." his baritone voice rumbles as he spoke, sounding a little more raspy than usual, probably from the smoke.

"hey ghetto, how come you always smoke?" you ask a genuine question, you wonder. you watch as he makes a face at the name you jokingly give him, but you both bath In the solitude of eachother.

silence.

"m'dont know, just do, I guess. don't like the smell of the smoke?" he said, you feel hesitant to nod your head, you don't wanna upset him because you don't like the choices he makes, but again it's his body so he can do whatever he'd like.

"yea, aren't you afraid of the lung diseases coming to get you?" You say it's a serious saying, But you can't help but chuckle a little. "You're too young and handsome to spend your days in a hospital." You say, hand stretching out to play with the ends of his long, straight, healthy looking hair. it had gotten longer than you'd remembered.

suguru stays quiet almost in Ponder about what your saying,"and plus not only are you killing you but your killing me cause I have to breath that shit whenever I'm around you, we'll be leukemia twins." Your chuckle sets a vibration in your chest.

you start to play with his hands in the silences, you start to think your words may have come off alittle aggressive and rude, but before you could say anything he beat you too it.

"Don't worry, yr'pretty mind, I promise I'll stop from now on." it takes you by surprise by how quickly it took for him to consider your words.

"You sur-" "Yes, I am. don't want you breathin' in these harmful chemicals."

you decide to joke around with him abit "can I try?" You point to the cigarette in between his fingers, " no silly, it's bad for you." You laugh at the irony of the situation

you watch as he smothers the ciggar into an ashtray, and you can already see the smoke clearing up. he opens the windows to seemingly air out the house before he makes his way back too you, laying his body weight on top of you.

"Get your sleep." he says Ina low tone, his hands drawing soft repetitive shapes on your skin, and he snuggles into your stomach enough to lul you back to sleep.

[hyunsvngs]

You wanted more, you get more. I hope this convinces you.

Happy Birthday Hannie.

Dom!Jisung

It’s late. Too late to make any decisions within the holy realm. It’s been ages since you’ve been out, and you feel like all you need is some good music, a dancefloor, and a good fuck afterwards. So you get ready, putting on a short, pleated black skirt and a lacy crop top, just transparent enough to leave one hungry to see more. This outfit you pair with platform boots, heavy chains and bracelets, open and flowy hair and a good smokey eye with red lips. Checking yourself out in the mirror one last time before leaving, you look ravishing.

The trip to the club is a short one and before you know it, you stand in front of the familiar ordained double doors. „Get me the usual, Jim“ you tell the bouncer and he hands you one purple and one black bracelet, which you put on either wrist. One signifies your interest in people of every gender, and one signifies your interest in subbing for tonight. He also gets you a key on a chain with the perfect length to land right inside your cleavage when you put it over your head.

Once you get inside, the bass starts massaging your eardrums in the best way and you head straight into the middle of the club, body already swaying to the music. As time passes, the club begins to fill up, people filing in, drinking, dancing and enjoying their night. Ever so often people leave again, in groups of two or more, some outside the front door and some up the stairs behind the bar. So far however, you stay alone and unbothered. No one’s catching your attention so far, and apparently you also stay unnoticed.

That only changes when the doors open and someone unknown to you enters. You don’t really know what it is that draws you towards him, but his energy just seems enticing, his confidence seeping from the doorway all the way up into the middle of the dancefloor, where you’re now stood. You examine him closely: wavy brown hair down to his chin, beautiful round cheeks, and a pink wristband on the one side with a red wristband on the other. Perfect. One foot already lifted to make your way towards him, you suddenly freeze when his eyes meet yours. Beautiful, warm brown eyes to get lost in, with a stare so freezing cold that you can’t help but get excited.

He sets in motion, moving along the walls to stay out of the dancing crowd, his unyielding gaze trained on you. With a flick of his head towards the lounge he commands you to follow him and you obey without question. Behind the doors of the lounge, the music is mellow and there are many settees spread out, allowing the guests to actually talk and understand each other. You quickly find him sitting on a dark blue velvet couch, hands put up along the back rest and legs spread. His white dress shirt is bunching up a little and his black slacks strain against his thighs. Keeping a respectful distance, but still close enough to talk to each other without annoying other guests, you sit down next to him.

„So you’re interested?“ His voice is comfortably deep. Not so deep that you feel like you’re talking to Lucifer himself, but deep enough to tell you that this is a man who knows how to take his way. And his british accent gets you going just the right way. „Obviously, or I wouldn’t be here“

„Do you know who I am?“

„Why would I?“ you ask back, confused.

„Good. What are your limits?“ No further explanation needed, apparently. Alright then. You like it best straight to the point anyways. „No fecal play, nothing that leaves lasting scars, and if you want your dick in me, you’re only doing it with a condom. I use the colour system for safewords, and if I can’t speak, I use other widely known things, like tapping out. What about you?“

„There won’t be any recordings whatsoever, we won’t exchange names or contacts, and there will be minimal aftercare.“

„Fine by me. If you want to, you can choose my name for tonight, or address me by nicknames you prefer. What do you want me to call you?“

„Sir and Master are fine, if you want to, you can also use Idol. What do you like?“

„I‘m a huge masochist and degradee, so if you could throw me around, manhandle me and spank me while calling me a pathetic slut, that‘d be great. What pleases you?“

„I want you under my control. When I tell you to do something, you listen and do it. You only cum with my permission and you take what I give you. I‘ll stop if you use the safeword, and not a second earlier. Sounds good?“ You nod your head in agreement. „Good. Anything else you want to talk about beforehand? Otherwise there’s a hotel nearby we can go to, I‘ll pay.“

„Thank you, but I actually got some keys. I’m surprised you didn’t get any as a regular?“

„How do you know I‘m a regular? You said you don’t know me.“ It’s the first time you see his confidence falter, even if just the slightest bit, as if he’s on guard, and you wonder why. „Chill. You’re walking around this club like it’s your second home, obviously you come here often. I’m surprised I haven’t seen you around before, actually.“ This answer seems to calm him down, and he’s back to his fully confident self in no time. „I usually don’t stay for long when I come here. If you don’t want to leave, we can go upstairs.“ And with that he stands up, holding his hand out for you to grab and stand up as well. It would be the last nice thing he does for you for a while.

Once you’re stood beside him, he leans in and growls into your ear, so the others can‘t hear it: „Such an eager slut, hm? I bet you can’t wait to get on your knees for me and get your mouth stuffed with my cock. So impatient, you can’t even wait for the hotel and just have to do it right here.“ A whimper escapes your mouth at his words and you press your thighs together, not wanting to drip before you even get to your room. Your partner for the night then lets you lead the way, out of the lounge, past the bar, up the stairs, and into room number 914. However, you don’t get to appreciate the tasteful interior, since the second the door is closed you already get thrown against it and pushed to the ground. Without thinking you look up and open your mouth, which is instantly rewarded by the man in front of you pulling out his half hard dick and laying it on your tongue. „Suck, bitch, and don’t make me repeat myself.“ It doesn’t need more than this for you wrap your lips around him and start to bring him to full hardness with your well-practiced tongue. „God, I’ve waited so long for this, it’s been ages“ he sighs. Whilst you hollow your cheek, trace the vein on his underside with your teeth, and press your tongue against his slit, he slowly unbuttons his shirt, revealing broad shoulders, defined abs, and the prettiest waist you’ve ever seen. You moan at the sight and can feel his dick twitch in your mouth, apparently he likes that. So you decide to give him more, taking him in deeper and moaning every time he touches the back of your throat.

After some time, he grabs the top of your hair to hold you still and pulls out of your mouth with a pop. He’s fully naked at this point, you don’t even know how, and you get to actually look at his cock for the first time. It’s big and round, just like his cheeks, and you can already tell that the stretch will be amazing.

„God, such a cockhungry slut. Look at you, already so worked up and I haven’t even touched you yet.“

He’s right, you do already look kind of disheveled. Your hair is messed up from the rubbing against the wall, the deepthroating brought tears to your eyes and let your mascara run, and you’re positively dripping from between your thighs. And all he had to do is say a few words and stuff his dick down your throat… he’s a good one.

„Strip and get on the bed with your face down. I hope you don’t mind me using equipment. If you do, now is your time to back out. „What’s your colour, whore?“

„Green, Sir.“

„Good slut. Now get going.“ And with that you start undressing, taking off your shoes, pulling down your skirt, removing your top, and carefully putting every piece of jewelry aside. Then you climb onto the bed and lay down with your front against the mattress and your face pressed into a pillow. You can hear him rummaging around and briefly wonder where he gets his so called equipment from. Maybe he brought a bag you didn’t notice, or maybe he knows where the club store theres, despite him usually leaving for a hotel. However, all the thoughts about where vanish once you here what he’s pulling out. The rattling of the chains gets you so excited you start to squirm in your position, rubbing your thighs against each other to try and get some stimulation. „Stop moving, you impatient bitch, or I‘ll put them away again.“ Fuck. But his threat works, you stay still until you hear him come closer and speak up: „Here’s the plan: I‘m going to blindfold you, chain you to the bed, and hit you with different things. If you guess correctly what I hit you with, you get a reward, and for every time you’re wrong I‘ll deny you an orgasm. What’s your colour?“

„Green. So green, Sir. Master. Please“

„Pathetic bitch. So eager to get your ass beat by a complete stranger. You’re insane, you know that? Crazy for my attention.“ You know you sound pathetic, but his plan is coming straight from your dreams, you can’t help it. „Yes, Sir, I want to be good for you, I‘ll take everything you give- AHH!“ Even though your scream is muffled by the pillow, it rings throughout the room.

„Guess.“

„Your hand, Sir, that was your hand.“

„Well done. This one was easy, to start off. From now on, remember to only speak when I tell you to. Understood?“

„Yes, Sir.“

„Good. Now lift your head so I can put the blindfold on you.“ He slips a black sleeping mask on you, which you silently thank the heavens for, because it means that your make up won’t leave any stains. „That’s right, just like that. Now put your arms up and together.“ The metal of the chains is cold against your skin and lets a shiver run down your spine. You feel your wrists being pressed together and pulled towards the headboard, before you hear the clicking sounds that signify that they’re now attached to the headboard. „Good. Now spread your legs. I want to see your desperate cunt drip with every impact I land.“ You spread your legs as far as you can, the cold air hitting your core making you slightly uncomfortable. More cold metal against hot skin, two more audible clicks, and you‘ve never felt this vulnerable in your life. Being tied to the bed isn’t a new experience for you, not even in this exact position, but there’s just something about his aura that constantly makes you feel like a deer caught in headlights. You love it.

„You really let yourself get tied up just like that, give yourself up for me. Just a doll to be played with. And oh, how I‘ll play with you. What’s your colour, puppet?“

„Green, Master“

„Alright, then guess.“ And with that he slaps you right across your ass. You can already feel the welt building, but more importantly, you already know that feeling. „It’s your hand again, Sir.“

„Well, well. Let’s see if you’re as precise with the next one.“ You can hear a faint swishing sound and only a faint slapping noise, before you feel a line of pain forming on your upper thigh, increasing towards your inside. This one already hurts a lot more than the few spankings you received prior, probably to test your pain tolerance, but it’s nothing you can’t handle.

„Guess.“

„I‘m guessing the crop, Sir, the synthetic one.“

„Wow, very accurate. You must get beaten a lot here to know that difference. You just can’t get enough, can you? Need every single person here to fuck you because you’re so desperate. Guess.“

You didn’t see - or, well, hear, the next one coming, his talking must’ve drowned out the noises of him changing toys and drawing it down. But it definitely hit you, because now there’s a rather dull pain spreading from an area on your lower back. Hardly any noise going down, larger area of impact, duller pain, that must mean… „that’s the paddle, Sir.“

„And you’re right again. It’s almost no fun if you get everything right. I really want to destroy your pussy later and where’s the fun in that if you enjoy yourself too much? Guess.“ Again you couldn’t really hear a sound, and again there’s a line of pain. But different from the crop, the pain is more evenly spread. „I’m guessing the cane, Sir“ you manage to say between gritted teeth. Not only do you get more sensitive each time he hits you, he also hits you harder each time. It makes you wonder just how hard he can hit you, and if you‘d still enjoy it as much as you do now.

„I‘ll admit, you are pretty good at this game. Let’s up the anti a little bit, shall we?“ This time you can actually hear him shuffling around and curiosity fills your mind, but blindfolded and tied up helplessly to the bed, all you can really do is wait. That’s why you tune out your surroundings, allowing yourself to just exist in this moment for a bit. That’s also why you cry out both in surprise and in pain when the next hits come. They’re three at one this time, all drawn precisely across your back with a loud slapping sound and all leaving behind a diffuse sense of tingling pain. „Guess.“

„I’m guessing the flogger, Sir.“

„Are you sure about that? All three? I could have changed in between, I could be double wielding.“ You can’t help the chuckle escaping your throat at his choice of words. Nerd. „Double wielding? With what exactly, Sir? Another flogger?“

„Silence!“ he demands as he cracks the flogger against your back again, even more powerful than before, and you wail out at the feeling. „Oh, shut up. Just because your right, doesn’t mean you get to be a bitch about it. Do you hear me?“

„Sir, yes, Sir, sorry, Sir“ Tears prick at your eyes from the pain and his harsh words, but you try to bite them back. You don’t want to grant him the satisfaction of knowing the effect he has on you.

„Alright, you get one more to guess. And when I ask you to guess, I want to hear the name of the equipment only. Understood?“

„Yes, Sir“

„What’s your colour?“

„Green, Sir“

„Good. We‘ll work up to it now, which means you don’t have to guess anything for now. You‘ll only speak when I command you to do so. Until then, I want to hear as little from you as possible.“ You bury your head further into the pillow in hopes of muffling the sounds that are bound to come, and prepare for impact.

That doesn’t come.

Instead, you can feel him gently, almost lovingly, run his fingers over your skin, feeling up your entire body and even brushing over your completely soaked pussy. „Look at that, getting so wet from the pain I give you. You already got the sheets dirty. Such a messy plaything, so, so dirty.“ At the last word, he spanks you again, eliciting a yelp that’s drowned out by the pillow. The next thing you feel is the flogger again, cracking down on you time and time again, until it leaves your whole body red and tingling. You’re positively bawling at this point, muttering under your breath about how it is too much and that you can’t take it anymore. „What was that, slut? I can’t hear your pathetic words over your stupid whining. You know what to say if you want me to stop, and if you don’t want me to stop, I‘d advise you to shut the fuck up. You said you‘d take whatever I give you, now it’s time to deliver on those words.“ You quiet down a little, only whimpering slightly at every new hit.

„Alright, that should be enough. I‘ll get the equipment now.“ Rummaging again, he returns after a few seconds.

„Guess.“

The telltale crack echoing through the room already tells you everything you need to know, and so you perk up before the pain even registers in your head: „The wh- aaahhh!!! The- the whip, Sir, it’s the whip“

„You don’t get extra points for speed here, bitch“ he muses behind you. „Still, you really did get everything right. Nonetheless, I draw one point away from you for being such a know it all about it. But first, you get your reward as promised.“ With that you can feel him freeing your ankles and unhooking your wrists from the headboard, although he keeps your hands tied together. „Turn around and sit up.“ You listen and move yourself to lay on your back first, before you utilize your legs to push yourself up against the headboard. „Now take off your blindfold.“ You move your hands to push the fabric away, blink a few times to adjust to the lighting, and- oh.

That’s where the title Idol comes from.

He’s standing at the foot of the bed, with a stance that screams confidence and power, and sweat glistening in an even sheen over his body. Every light in the room seems to be drawn in by him, making him almost glow. And his whole body language exerts that he knows. He knows how good he looks. He knows what effect he has on his surrounding. He knows that he can fill up a stadium with his energy.

„Come here, suck the cock you’re so hungry for.“ His voice pulls you out of your trance - or does it pull you further in? You don’t even know at this point. Anyways, you crawl towards him, lay belly up on the bad and let your head hang off the edge. He groans at that sight and wastes no further time to push himself right inside your mouth. You let your tongue swirl around the tip and he starts to rock his hips into you, fucking your mouth and making you take every inch. For a moment, only the wet sounds of your mouth are filling the room, maybe accompanied by some low grunts and moans, but eventually you start whining again, wordlessly begging for some sort of pleasure.

„So desperate, are you? Fine, you‘ve been good after all“ he says and then leans over you to play with your nipples a little. At your current state, that’s all you need to feel your orgasm approach, fast. „Aww, my little toy wants to cum? I don’t even need to touch your pussy and you’re already falling apart. I bet you’re completely useless if you can’t have a dick inside you.“ Your whines increase both in volume and intensity as you get closer, promising you sweet relieve if he keeps going just a little longer.

Until he stops.

He draws away from you completely, halting every contact. You desperately cry out, but at this point you know better than to speak up. „Aww, look at that. My little toy forgot she owes me one orgasm denial. Too bad. Tonight you’re coming on my cock and on my cock only.“

With that he walks around the bed, grabs you by the hips and pulls you up. Then he climbs onto the mattress between your legs. You notice that he’s put on a condom and once again wonder when he did that. But you‘ve got not much time left to wonder, since his next action is to slide on top of you, pushing your legs towards your chest with his shoulders. Then, with his left hand, he pins your wrists above your head into the mattress. Once he hovers right above your head, he asks one last time: „Colour?“

„Green, Sir“

„Good.“

And he snaps his hips forward, pushing himself deep inside you and immediately bottoming out. Without any prep, the stretch is almost painful, but you have no time to adjust. He starts rocking his hips into you immediately and it doesn’t take long like this for you to know that your orgasm is right around the corner.

„Fuck, that’s good pussy… so wet… so greedy… taking me so well“ he begins to ramble. You can feel his dick twitch inside you and one look at his scrunched up face tells you that he’s close as well. You begin to whine louder, hoping to get his attention without actually saying anything. It works. His right hand comes up to your face and squishes your cheeks, forcing your mouth open. „What is it, slut? Do you want to cum? Does my little toy want to cum? Because that’s all you are to me, a little toy to play with and throw away after.“ He spits into your mouth and watches as you swallow eagerly, slapping your face after. „It’s okay, cum for me. Cum for me if you have to, cum around my cock“ and he slaps you again. That’s the moment toppling you over the edge, crashing you into an earth shattering orgasm so intense, you don’t know if you’ve ever experienced something like it before. He tries to steadily fuck you through it, but fails as his hips begin to stutter with his own orgasm overwhelming him.

He collapses on too of you and takes a moment to regain his breath, before he stands up and unties your wrists.

„Are you okay?“

„Yeah, more than okay, actually. That was absolutely amazing! Thank you for that.“

„Yeah, it was one of the better ones. Just wait here, I‘ll be right back with towels and some water“ he says and scurries away into the attached bathroom. When he comes back, he helps to clean you up, lets you drink some water, and applies ointment onto your bruises. Then he helps you to get dressed again, all the while being extremely sweet and caring, almost the exact opposite from before. Only his pure confidence still remains.

„Alright. Is there anything else you need? Some food? A ride home, maybe?“

„You can keep me some company until the Uber arrives, that’s enough for me“

„If you say so“ And so you two shuffle back out, leave your bracelets and the key with Jim, and wait for the black car.

„I’m honest, it really was great. If you ever want to repeat this-“

„I won’t. I’m sorry, it’s nothing personal, not against you at least, it’s just… not really my style. I hope you understand.“

„Of course I do! I just wanted to offer, but you can of course decline. Anyway, I see my car coming, so see you around, I guess“ you say and enter the car, waving a little goodbye to the stranger you still don’t know the name of. „Yeah, see you around“ he answers before vanishing in the rear view mirror.

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

It’s the next morning and you wake up groggy and with your whole body aching. Complaining to yourself, you turn over to grab your phone and check the time, only to see it blown up with messages from your best friend.

Bestiiieeee 💖:

[0:41]

omg

OMG

OH MY FUCKING GOD!!!

Did you see that?!

[0:45]

Han Jisung won at the award show today!!

He won with his performance of Don’t Say

He ate that upppp

[0:51]

I‘m so sorry, I can’t stop thinking about it

It’s just SO good

That fucking guitar solo

And the fit

And the hair

The entire man, honestly

[0:57]

PLEASE

You HAVE to look at him

He’s so your type, istg

Please just this once

For me

Look at the video and if you don’t like him then I‘ll never ask again, I promise

*video attached*

Too tired to start beef over some stupid celebrity now, you click on the video. The intro starts playing first, but when it cuts to the actual performance, your eyes widen. Your bestie is right. The fit. The hair. The entire man, honestly. He’s all too familiar.

So you’re stranger has a name now.

That explains a lot.

Y/N:

[10:54]

Nah, not interested. He strikes me as the kind of guy to only stay for the night, if that, and that’s not what I want.

[10:59]

Now let me sleep.

~🤍

OKAY IM BEGGING DO YOU HAVE A BLOG BC THIS WAS INSANE

♡ juno

[yes-divine-ruler]

Warren Lipka (Evan Peters in AA) x Fem!Reader Smut - “Coffee and Sex” (18+)

Requested! Enjoy <3

Summary: strangers meet in Amsterdam outside Coffeshop Smokey, and are both just as high and horny for eachother.

CW: strangers-with-benefits, weed smoking, unprotected penetrative sex, fingering, cream pie

Words: 2025

I sat outside Coffeeshop Smokey, a spliff to my lips. I exhaled, blowing out O's until I couldn't. I was bored, and very high. All I've done tonight is smoke and play pool with a couple of friends, that then decided they were too tired and had to go back to our hotel. Now I sat, waiting for someone to walk passed that might strike my interest.

Almost as soon as that thought crossed my mind, a young guy in a suit and long curly dark hair stood outside the cafe, staring in from across the street. He looked like a first time tourist, bewildered by the fact that it was okay to smoke weed on the streets of Amsterdam, like he hadn't done his reading.

He caught me staring, his dark eyes locking with mine, almost unnoticed if not for the dimly lit street light. He made a beeline for me, as I put out my joint and sat up straight in my cafe chair.

"What is this place? Doesn't smell like coffee to me?" He asked, scratching the top of his head in a joking way and flashing me an adorable smile.

I raised an eyebrow at him, amused by his ignorance. He sat down in the chair in front of me, his eyes set on the ashtray with the burnt out joint.

"Can I go- buy one?" He asked me, putting a cigarette between his lips from his jacket pocket and lighting it with my lighter.

"Go ahead," I said to him, waving a hand towards the entrance of the coffee shop.

"You sound foreign too," he picked out, laughing in relief, like he wasn't the only one outside of his home country.

"Yeah, I'm on vacation," I said, leaning back in my chair, taking in his appearance again. He was hot, I thought, lean and toned, with the perfect facial features and dimples. I would sit on his face.

"I'll be back," he said, dropping his cigarette in the ashtray and disappearing inside.

Moments passed before he was outside again, a pack of 3 rolled joints in a plastic bag. He sat down again, ripping one eagerly from the packaging and placing it to his lips. He reached over and grabbed my lighter again, this time holding it up as if asking if it was okay to use it. I nodded, my bottom lip between my teeth as I watched as he lit it, taking a big draw.

He coughed as he exhaled, slumping down in his chair and hitting his chest with his fist.

"Good- shit," he got out, making me laugh. He was funny, and confident. I liked that.

"So how long are you here?" I asked him, bringing my drink up to my lips and taking a sip from the straw.

"Uh- only a couple days, business trip," he said, referring to his suit. I didn't know if I could believe his business was very official, he seemed unsettled, anxious, and the suit didn't seem expensive.

"Right," I said, as he looked at me as he inhaled again from his joint.

"You're really fucking hot," he blurted, sucking in his cheeks as he bit them from inside, showing his deep dimples. I knew he felt like it was risky complimenting me so forwardly. I laughed, crossing my arms over my chest.

"What's your name?" I asked, tilting my head to the side as I waited for a response.

"Uh Warren, Warren Lipka," he said, taking another hit of his joint. When he exhaled he asked, "what's yours?"

"Y/N," I replied, watching him finally put down the joint.

"Where are you staying?" He asked me, unbuttoning his suit jacket.

"Uh with some friends, a few blocks away," I replied, shrugging.

"Right.. do you wanna come back to my room? It's just down the street," he asked, and I looked at him with narrow eyes.

"Why don't we just hang out here?" I asked, a smile on my face.

"Well I can't get to know you better here, can I?" He teased. We were both high, I almost didn't even hear what he said, until I processed it. I felt my cheeks heat up.

"Alright," I said, getting up. Warren looked at me with wide eyes, not believing that what he said actually worked. It didn't, but he was hot and I was bored, I just wouldn't let him know that I was in control of the situation.

He followed me, saying that his room was to the left of the coffee shop.

"So, have you been to Amsterdam before?" He asked, catching up to me with a small jog. I didn't look at him as we continued walking.

"Yeah, every year," I said, finally looking at him.

"Oh, lucky, love it here," he said, looking out onto the busy street, "it's so different to back home,"

"And where's that?" I asked, as his hand landed on the small of my back as we wove through foot traffic.

"Kentucky," Warren replied, as he stopped outside a tall motel, small steps leading up to the entrance.

"What about you?" He seemed interested in getting to know me, or maybe he just needed to seem like he was to get me inside his room.

"(Your Country)," you replied, following him into the small lobby, watching as he nodded as a greeting to the receptionist.

"I can tell from your accent," he said, climbing up the stairs near the entrance.

"What, no elevator?" I teased, as we made it to the first floor.

"Not exactly in the budget," he said, reaching for a key inside his pocket and unlocking the room door.

"I thought you were on business?" I asked him, as I watched him take off his suit jacket and toss it on the couch. He went over to his king size bed, sitting on the edge and kicking off his dress shoes, laying down in just his button up, slacks and socks.

"I am," he said, craning his neck upwards to look at me, "come here," he suggested, patting the spot next to him on the bed.

I obliged, taking off my own boots near the couch, and pulling my thick sweater above my head, leaving me in a thermal tank top and baggy jeans. Warren looked at me as I shimmed off my jeans in front of him, keeping my panties and tank top on. I wasn't wearing a bra.

"Someone's keen," he teased, big smile on his face as I went over and laid down next to him on the bed, laughing as he crawled on-top of me, our faces inches apart.

"I'm so fucking high," Warren mumbled, as my hands ventured to the back of his head, my fingers tangling in his soft curls. He moaned softly, I guess he liked having his hair pulled.

"So am I," I mumble, as we both let out a laugh.

"Kiss me," I whispered, watching Warren close his eyes and come in towards me, finally connecting his soft lips with mine. Oh my god did it feel good.

His hands rested on the bed next to my face as we kissed, his lips soft. He tilted his head to the side getting better access, his tongue darting out and licking mine. I let him in my mouth, our tongues coming together during every kiss.

I moaned into his mouth, my head dazed and my stomach in a knot, full of hunger for this man. He broke the kiss, sitting up on his knees and unbuttoning his shirt before pulling it off. I took the opportunity to lift up my tank top, throwing it to the side and gasping as it landed on the lamp by the bed. Warren stopped, then we both burst out laughing.

"Shh shh," he said, covering my mouth with his hand as we continued laughing. I opened my mouth, taking his middle finger in my mouth and sucking on it. He bit his lip and looked at me, before his eyes averted to my breasts.

"Now when did those come out?" He said, dipping his head down and taking my nipple in his mouth. I gasped, my hands tugging his hair again as he sucked softly.

I reached down and undid his slacks, pulling them down the best I could until he was just in his underwear like I was. He groaned, as I took a hold of his hard and prominent erection in his underwear.

His thumbs dipped into the waistband of my panties, pulling them down off my legs and throwing them onto the floor. His eyes travelled down my body, taking in every inch of my exposed skin. I laid there watching him, before he cupped under my thighs and brought them up over his shoulders.

"You're so.. perfect," he said, letting out a deep breath he'd been holding in. I raised my arms above my head, resting them on the pillow and his hand travelled down between my legs. He flicked his thumb over my clit, provoking a soft moan to leave my lips.

His fingers slid over my folds, collecting the wetness that pooled there, before he inserted a finger. I let out another moan, as his fingers worked inside me at a steady pace, his thumb coming in contact with my clit and rubbing circles on it simultaneously.

Having sex high was my favourite thing in the whole world, my heightened senses made it feel like I was on cloud 9, my pleasure indescribable.

"Baby you're so wet, it's dripping," he said through clenched teeth, pulling down his own underwear and taking his hard cock in his hand. He stroked it, as I watched, totally taken off guard by his length.

"Fuck me Warren," I mumbled, as he lined myself up at my entrance, slowly pushing inside, his eye contact never wavering. His eyes closed as he entered me, pushing himself all the way in. I grabbed onto his biceps, my fingernails digging into his skin.

“Oh baby, you feel so good,” he moaned, slowly thrusting into me, my legs still over his shoulders. It was pure ecstasy, feeling him inside me deeper than I could’ve imagined.

“Warren- oh my god,” I moaned as his thumb started to rub small circles on my clit again.

His thrusts got faster, curse words and sounds of pure pleasure escaping his lips, one hand wrapped around my leg, the other still circling my clit. I was going to cum, and I think he could tell because he thrust into me deep, hitting a spot inside me.

“Warren I-” I could barely get a sentence out, it felt like I was seeing stars from how good it all felt. His forehead collected swear, the tattoos and veins on his arms jumping out to me.

I came, clenching around his cock, my pussy wetter than ever. His thrusts didn’t falter in speed and I rode out my high, grabbing onto both of my breasts with my nipples between my fingers.

“I’m gonna cum, holy shit,” he cursed, cumming inside me, his thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier.

He pulled out, sitting on his heels, as he watched his own cum trickle out of my pussy, collecting in a pool on the bed sheets. He groaned, letting out a laugh of disbelief.

“Fuck your pussy is amazing,” he beamed, coming down beside me and scooping me into his arms, our naked bodies warm and sticky with sweat.

I moved to look at him, moving his damp hair out of his eyes. He stared at me from hooded eyes, both of us breathing heavy, before planting a soft kiss on my shoulders.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” He asked in a quiet voice, a cheeky smile spreading across his face.

“Another joint then round 2?” I suggested, as he got up and almost ran to his slack pocket, pulling out 2 joints.

“Read my mind, Y/N baby,” he said, as I wrapped his sheet around me and followed him onto the balcony of his motel room.

┌────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────┐ 
 SEND IN YOUR REQUESTS HERE!! 
└────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────┘

[film-in-my-soul]

Lawful Husband soulmate AU, but maybe a not too specific one, where the "symbol/signal" for your soulmate can be misleading so Ga On was sure his soulmate was Su Hyeon, but then he meets Yo Han (I hope this doesn't count as "plot". In that case please ignore me, I apologise)

(Don’t worry about it! Sorry this took so long and that it’s probably not exactly what you were looking for. I wanted it to be more of a character study so it’s more pre-slash than anything else.)

Kim Ga-on had spent countless nights as a teenager, his hand pressed almost uncomfortably over his shoulder, arm twisted back so his palm could rest against the shadowy bird almost bursting from his skin and wishing it was there for Yoon Soo-hyun. He’d trace a finger over the curling tendrils of smokey feathers, drawing over the pattern blind and send up silent wishes to the universe that one thing in his life might be easy.

There would be days, weeks even, where he could convince himself that it was true. His best friend was like a bird sometimes, the way she fluttered around the classroom, helping the teacher or other students, or how she’d jab at his side, quick and sharp to get his attention, like a bird pecking your head. He’d been comfortable with pretending that even if it wasn’t in a romantic way, they were meant to stay by each other’s sides forever.

Ga-on hadn’t known what her mark was in their youth, Soo-hyun had kept it carefully covered even though he knew it was around her ankle. Still, looking back on those hazy days he believes that she was also convinced he matched her too. At the very least she’d done as he did and wished so hard that she could trick her brain into making it so.

Now... now Ga-on is older. He’s less idealistic, more knowledgeable about himself, and no longer willing to hurt himself the same ways he used to, not with thoughts or actions. More than any of that he’s not willing to hurt Soo-hyun anymore either, not if he can help it when it comes to matters of the heart.

She loves him, even without complimentary soul-marks (it’s a bundle of black-eyed Susan’s and deep-down Ga-on knows that it’s not him) but he can’t give her those same feelings back. It isn’t because Ga-on has some romantic notion that he’ll meet the person who wears the symbolic image of who he is to his core on their skin and by some miracle his ashen mark will match them too. He might be a naive fool in many ways but not in this. No… he just knows that his feelings for her, no matter how deep they run, how she’s wrapped around his soul like a tethering thread, marking the way home, is not that of romantic love. No matter how hard he might try to make it that way.

Outside of Soo-hyun Ga-on’s never wished someone else was his soulmate, and for a long time, after his parents’ death, after getting the sense knocked into him and practically thrown onto the path of law school, Ga-on had simply pushed the whole notion out of his brain. It didn’t matter, not in the long run, not really.

Until suddenly it did. Until suddenly Ga-on was waking up with the scent of burning wood in his nose and the taste of soot on his tongue from a memory that isn’t even his. There’s the phantom sensation of fingers still clenched hard around his throat and those eyes boring into him as Yo-han seethes, words like acid dripping from his lips, weaving around a story so vivid and crushing that now Ga-on can feel the imprint of the flames that had destroyed Yo-han’s back pressing at the corner of his brain. Unconsciously his hand had moved to touch against his back until he became aware of his shoulder pulling and forcibly stopped himself from reaching.

Ga-on had not allowed himself a moment to think of what that reaction had been. He’d actively pushed it down, a moment of exhausted morning sympathy. There was still too much in his head, too much uncertainty of just exactly who Kang Yo-han is for him to dwell on meaningless things.

Again though… it became far less meaningless as time moved on.

Ga-on hadn’t been able to stop the nagging thoughts from slipping in, not as he’d grown more comfortable in the Kang home, comfortable in the biting back and forth he shared with his Chief, especially not in the moments where there was little to no edge at all over shared home-cooked meals. Touches leaving shivers in their wake, arguments running in circles and lighting up his blood as nothing had before, looks that lingered. It’s mounting evidence toward a realization he refuses to have.

Regardless, Ga-on had done his best not to let the unwelcome ideas take root.

All it takes is one offhanded conversation with Elijah for that carefully constructed denial to crumble, like an ocean wave hitting a sandcastle too close to the shore.

“What are you reading?” Ga-on slips into the main room, fresh from a shower after his morning jog. The young girl is on the couch, having transferred herself from her chair to lounge, almost casually on the large furniture piece. Ga-on takes up the space beside her. When Elijah turns the book up to face him Ga-on feels his throat constrict.

Staring back at him from the slightly worn cover is a splash of bright yellow, an oil-painted bird turned up, wings spread open, as though lifting into the sky. At the bottom of the cover, overlapping in muted oranges and yellows, are flames.

Elijah, clearly unaware of the sudden tension in Ga-on’s body, begins to speak.

“I know it might seem childish, reading books like this at my age, but I thought I’d take a break from my studies to relax as you’ve suggested.” She taps the cover of her book with her finger. “I have to admit, this is my favorite of the series, though don’t tell uncle I said so, he thinks that the Goblet of Fire is superior.” Ga-on might have quipped back with something to affirm the girl’s opinion, but he can only force a smile and hum as she turns the book over in her hands and lets out a small scoff. “It’s funny,” she remarks.

Ga-on is fighting to see the humor even though he has no idea what will come out of Elijah’s mouth next.

“A phoenix…” her soft voice trails, like she’s suddenly lost, and dark anticipation begins to compound behind Ga-on’s ribs. His blood rushing loud in his ears. “It reminds me of him…” Ga-on doesn’t need her to say who she’s referring to. There’s suddenly a lump in the young lawyer’s throat, and though he wants to derail her, break the analysis he knows is coming, Ga-on can’t.

“A great old bird, reaching the end of its time, only to become buried under ash and raise again, like burning to death is just the natural process of coming back stronger.” Elijah sounds as haunted as Ga-on suddenly feels. “He’s not like that though… it’s like, he’s all burned up but hasn’t returned yet, he’s just the imprint from when he went up in flames. Like a shadow.”

There are pained tears pricking at the corner of Ga-on’s eyes and he sees wetness in Elijah’s as well, but he knows they’re both choked for different reasons. Elijah is mourning the uncle she’s lost and is seemingly wondering when or if the ghost that’s remained will come back to life, burning, or if he’ll simply blow away in the wind trying. Ga-on, on the other hand, has been slapped in the face with a reality he’s been denying for months now, and it stings. It’s the truth, a deep understanding he recognizes in the wake of Elijah’s musings, that he can’t pretend isn’t fact.

Kang Yo-han. A man whom Ga-on is still only half convinced did not murder his own brother. A brother who had shared Ga-on’s features. Is his soulmate.

“What’s going on in here?”

Elijah snaps her book shut and quickly wipes at the corners of her eyes while Ga-on fights down nausea rolling in his stomach as said man swaggers into the library and looks between the two of them.

The young girl is the first to make herself presentable and is fast with a barb, throwing her shoulders back, ever prideful, unwilling to show weakness.

“We were just discussing your terrible taste in books.” Elijah sniffs derisively, and Yo-han meets her obvious lie with a raised brow but no attempt to call her out. It allows Ga-on the last moment he needs to shake off his revelation. “Ga-on agrees with me of course. Don’t you?” Two pairs of similar eyes turn to him, and it would be staggering if the numbing sensation of shock hadn’t started washing over him.

Like he’s done many times in his life, Kim Ga-on plasters a convincing smile on his face and nods towards the book in Elijah’s lap.

“Of course.” He’s thankful the words don’t come out hoarse and though he can read the obvious curiosity on Yo-han’s face, knows that sometime in the night he’ll be cornered by this devil in a judge’s cloak, for the moment he has Elijah’s presence as a shield.

“Mm, slandered in my own home,” Yo-han grumbles but offers nothing else as he turns from the couch and heads toward his desk, dropping down into his ridiculously expensive chair like it’s made of plastic. There’s only a moment of silence before the older man waves off their expectant eyes, ready for a fight or a lecture. “Don’t mind me, continue your smear campaign as though I’m not here at all.” Ga-on feels a familiar swell of amusement cresting in his chest but it meets against the wall of uncertainty and turmoil nestled there, struggling for a moment before fizzling out.

It’s as good an excuse as any, however, to distract himself as long as he can, to pretend for just a little longer that he doesn’t know the truth.

Thank you for reading.

MASTERLIST

[romanwitchgirl]

The Coronation

Word Count: 2,650

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~Ash’s POV~

It was four o’clock in the afternoon and the preparations were almost done for Morta’s coronation. I was in a black tux with a crown sitting on my head. The crown was made of Stygian Iron and obsidian with smokey diamonds placed in the middle of each spike. It was too fancy if you ask me, but oh well. I also wore a hoodless black cloak that was draped over one shoulder with my sword sheathed on my left side. Deciding that I could leave the maids to do the rest of the decorations, I left off in the direction of Morta’s room. 

While walking the halls, I thought about what life would look like in the future with her here. I originally thought that my future was always going to be alone and the next time I would see Morta would be on the battlefield. I would have nightmares about me killing her, her getting hurt because of me, or of really anything that endangered Morta’s safety. Wow, I’m really fall-, I stopped that thought right where it started, even if I fear that it may be completely true. 

Upon reaching Morta’s door, I lingered outside for a bit before knocking. Why was I nervous? I asked myself. It’s Morta, I’ve known her since we were two. It can’t be that hard to just knock on her door, right? I gathered myself and knocked on the black wood. 

A soft, “Come in!” could be heard, so I opened the door.

Morta was in her dress and her hair and make-up done. Crimson eyeshadow matched her eyes and hair, which was in large, bouncy curls that cascaded down her back and shoulders. Blood red lipstick was shining on her lips as she had just taken a sip of wine. The dress hugged her body, but it wasn’t too tight to the point where it was scandalous. I could just make out the glint of her heels from under the skirt of her dress. 

“You look amazing,” I breathed out as I walked in.

“So do you,” Morta beamed as she hugged me. 

I melted into the embrace, happy to be in her arms. She was just tall enough to place her chin on my shoulder with her heels on. I wrapped my arms around her waist as her hands wrapped around mine. 

“Are you ready?” I asked as we pulled apart and made eye contact.

“Honestly, I don’t know, but with you, by my side, I can do anything,” she says. 

At that moment, everything felt right. With that in mind, we leaned closer and our lips pressed together in perfect harmony. We stayed in this position for what felt like forever, in bliss, before we broke apart, both gasping for breath. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time,” I pant out.

“So have I,” Morta confesses as a small smile graces her lips.

“Now are you ready?” I questioned as I looked into her eyes once again.

“Now I’m ready to take on the world,” she confirms. 

I stick out my arm and she takes it graciously. We step out of the room in full stride, walking in pace with each other into the throne room. All chatter stops as we emerge through the throne room doors and the people of the Darklands press themselves into a deep bow. I motion for them to stand and walk with Morta up to the front of the room. She stops short of me, already knowing what is to happen. I walk a little further than her, maybe a few feet in front of her, and turn to face her. I get ready to make my speech. 

“Welcome, people of the Darklands to the coronation of soon-to-be-Queen Morta. I am delighted to see you all here to see your future Queen, it shows great support for your kingdom. Now, may you all witness the crowning of your Queen,” I announce to the crowd of people. 

I step forward and draw my sword from my scabbard, the point to the ground. Morta kneels to the ground, a good portion of her dress touching the floor. 

I touch the point of the sword to her right shoulder, “Do you promise to protect your kingdom?”

“I do,” she answers.

I move the point of my sword over to her left shoulder, “Do you promise to lead your kingdom with grace and lead them to victory?”

“I do,” she repeats as she did before.

I remove the sword and slide it back to its spot on my waist, watching Morta stand with renewed pride and certainty. Her chin is held high and her eyes are alight with confidence. Out of the air, a large crown sits on her head, the shape and design almost identical to mine. Instead of the jewels being smokey diamonds like mine, hers are blood-red rubies glinting from the light of the chandelier. Also, hers has chains connecting each spike, mine does not. I wonder what this new decoration means?

“Then I proudly announce you Queen of the Darklands!” I shout to the crowd while going over and linking my hand with her’s. 

She grasps my hand tightly and puts a smile on her face as she looks to the people who are cheering for their new Queen. 

“Let the party begin!” I announce as the people disperse and some classical music starts playing in the background. 

We move over to the thrones and sit down perfectly in sync, just like before. It’s like we were made for this. 

~In Alfhiem while Morta is being crowned~

~3rd Person POV~

“My Queen! We have reason to suspect that something is happening in the Darklands!” a guard shouts as he bursts through the throne room doors in the Alfhiem castle.

Queen Dawn, Prince Helios’s mother, shoots her head up at this information. Helios and Celestial are playing in one of the towers, probably dueling it out with some fake swords. 

“What do you mean?” the Queen’s voice is melodic and usually calm, but you could just hear a waver of worry present in her words. 

“The Star Tower looked into their sky and the moons are alight with a new glow we haven’t seen in many years. They suspect something, we just don’t know what,” the guard repeats after getting the message from the Stargazing Tower. 

“I’ll be there in around ten minutes. In the meantime, double the security just to be safe,” Queen Dawn commands as she gets off of her throne. 

The Queen walks briskly to the tower where her children are to warn them of what is to happen. They might just need to prepare for war. Helios has been warned many times of what might happen with war, as he is the crown prince. Celestial, only two years younger than Helios at twelve, has also heard stories of war from her brother when she can’t sleep at night. He tells her of the heroes who always managed to save the day in the end. 

“Helios! Get your sister and meet me in the Star Tower. Maybe you should bring Vix too, he deserves to know as well,” the Queen warns her oldest son. 

He nods, not quite sure about what is happening, but has his suspicions. Celestial hears her mother and grabs her brother’s hand in support and fear. She had never been in a war before, so if this was it, she was scared. The Queen walks off to the Star Tower as Helios and Celestial run to go get Vix, Helios’s best friend and son of the Captain of the Guard.

Vix and Helios had known each other since they can remember, always training and dueling with each other. Celestial always liked to join them in their training with her friend, Andromeda, who was already in the Star Tower. Andromeda was the daughter of the Head of the Star Tower, giving her the gift of Star Magick. Vix had Water and Air magick, while Helios and Celestial had the strongest case of Light Magick their mother had ever seen. They always trained together and hung out when they could, but they were all getting more independent and helping around. Helios was usually the busiest with him in line to run the kingdom, Celestial helping him when she could. Vix always worked with his father and helped keep the guards in order. Andromeda stayed in the tower with her mother practicing her powers or helping plot star charts.

“Vix! My mother wants us all in Star Tower for something important. We have to go,” Helios’s voice was unusually calm for the situation, but he was really just trying to cover up his fear of what might happen.

Vix got the message and bid goodbye to his father. He joined up with Helios and said hello to his sister who waved. Vix saw the determination in his friend’s eyes, but he also saw fear and concern, something he didn’t see often. 

“Why are we going to Star Tower?” Vix asked the group.

“I don’t know, but my mother sounded worried about something,” Helios responded without looking him in the eye.

“What do you think?” Vix’s grey eyes met Helios’s gold ones this time when he talked.

“War,” Helios’s response was simple, but it struck each of the kids hard.

Celestial’s violet eyes now shone with more fear than they did a minute ago. What were they going to do? She was only twelve, she couldn’t fight in a war. They traveled the rest of the hallways in silence, the word war echoing in their minds on a seemingly endless repeat. They soon reached Star Tower, Queen Dawn conversing with Andromeda’s mother in the corner of the surprisingly large room. Andromeda was on a balcony and staring into a telescope at the dark sky of the Darklands.

“Andromeda we’re here,” Helios addressed her so she looked away from the telescope. 

Her usually neat black hair was now pulled into a messy bun on the top of her head, her dark blue eyes looking tired from looking into a telescope for so long. 

“Good, now come look at this,” she commanded as they all walked over to the balcony. 

The wind was up a bit and Helios’s golden blonde hair swished around, obviously in need of a haircut. Celestial’s platinum blonde hair held wide curls in a short bob that framed her chin, now in her face from the sudden blast of wind. Vix didn’t have a problem with his hair, the navy-colored short hairstyle never getting out of hand. After patting down his hair, Helios walked over to the telescope and looked in. His mother hadn’t said what was the matter, so when he looked in he was surprised. The three moons of the Darklands shone a bright crimson for some reason. Each of the teens had a turn looking into the telescope and all were surprised.

“Why are the moons red?” Vix exclaimed.

“I don’t know, that’s the problem,” Andromeda grumbled and pulled a stool over to sit on. 

“Well, what could the King of the Darklands possibly be happy about? Also, I thought the trademark color of the moons were black on his crowning, why would they be red?” Helios pondered. 

“Dude, I just asked that question,” Vix complained.

“Sorry about that,” Helios rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I don’t know what he could be happy about, but maybe something like a crowning made the moons red,” Celestial suggested to the group.

“Maybe that is what he’s happy about. Do you think he finally has a Queen?” Andromeda questioned her three friends.

“That would make sense, but who would this Queen be?” Helios asked. 

The group was lost in thought for quite some time, eventually moving to sit around a round table to think. They had no idea who this Queen was, or what she was planning to do. They were stumped. 

Suddenly, a letter landed in the middle of the table they were sitting at. Their heads shot up at the arrival of the letter, its presence startling everyone in the room. How did this get in here?

“Helios, what is that?” Queen Dawn questioned her son as he held up the letter.

The envelope was a creamy white and had a wax seal they had never seen before. The seal was in the color of blood and held the emblem of a broken sword. What that stood for, they didn’t know. On the back of the letter in red ink, it was addressed to Prince Helios, his full title written in breathtaking cursive, every letter perfectly in place. Helios shrugged and opened the letter.

“Dear Prince Helios,” he started, feeling weird about saying his own name aloud. 

“I hope this letter finds you in good health. I am here to announce that I have been officially crowned Queen of the Darklands earlier tonight. I know that you don’t know who I am, and that’s fine. I know that you will be wondering why the moons have changed color, and that is because of me. My royal color is crimson, so the moons have become alight with a bloody glow. I just thought that you would need some clarity on why the moons are this way. Yours truly, Queen Enchantress,” Helios finished off. 

The whole room was confused on why their lifelong enemy just gave them information. Why would they give us this? Why are they giving up an advantage? 

“Well, that solves that problem,” Vix muttered under his breath.

“Yeah, but now we have more!” Celestial shouted in frustration.

“Who is this ‘Enchantress’?” Andromeda asked the group.

“I don’t know. Do you think it’s her real name or a name to hide an identity?” Helios wondered aloud. 

“Even more problems!” Celestial growled out. 

“Calm down sis,” Helios tried to comfort her, but she was storming around the room and looked like she wanted to punch anybody who got close to her, so he kept a safe distance.

“What do you mean calm down? Helios, we could have a war on our hands now! An enemy wouldn’t just give away that information for nothing! I think she’s just playing at us. I think she has a bigger plan, and I definitely believe that Enchantress is not her real name. She wouldn’t give us a name, that is something that you would want to keep secret,” Celestial stopped pacing to look her brother in the eye as she pretty much just owned him.

After her angry little rant, Celestial calmed herself down. She was stressed on the inside. She was not ready for war at twelve. Her brother would leap into battle in a heartbeat, but not her. She was utterly terrified of war. She could die, her friends could die, her family could die. She just couldn’t do it. She broke down crying and her brother held her close. She cried for a long time, the people in the room watching in sympathy for the girl. It was a lot of pressure as it is being the princess, but now with war? They couldn’t imagine it.

“Shh, it’s going to be OK. We’ll make it through this. Maybe there won’t be a war after all,” even as Helios comforted his sister, he knew that last statement wasn’t true. 

“I think we all need some rest. Let’s sleep over it, then we can call a meeting with the council tomorrow. We’ll tell them what we know and hopefully come up with a plan,” Queen Dawn said. 

Celestial had fallen asleep after her break-down, so Helios carried her up to their room. Vix said goodbye to Andromeda who was one of the last ones to go, seeing as her room was right across the hall. This was going to be a long night.

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[elizabetharzanisketchbook]

Japanese pear tree, a golden light and a golden pile of bruises, 2020

[oro-e-diamanti]

Quiet Music: Scherzo (Chapter Six; Part One)

In collaboration with @bethanysnow

Dreams turn into reality on smokey breaths. Inner turmoil melts away with the touch from warm skin. Promises make the evening decisions go from complicated to deliciously easy.

Content | Fluff, slight smut warning, tw soft drugs (marijuana)

Pairing | fem!Reader x Damiano

Word Count | 4421

Taglist | @damianodavide @lizstans @unitersmoonshine @its-afucking-mess @ethaneskin @dont-let-me-drown-in-you @vampirtet @lividisuigomiti @juststalking @tabi-toast @ethan-torchio-angelo @cheese-toastie-11 @thewitchinthemountain @ethanesimp @sofckinelectric @man3skin @daddydamiano @finelinejpm @superchrystaldrug @ginny-lily @everythingisdefinitelynotfine @nientedaridere @rainbowmarta @tiaamberxx @shaunthesheesh @enjcltaire @rocketqueen @aleksanderwh0r3 @damianodavidhands @megann-duff @teatrodellavita @coven-daddy  @till-you-scream-and-cry @solasullabarca @fanfictionandfluff @makapaka11 @slave4yourlove @geklutst-ei @marriedwithmarktuan @bookish0918 @mehrmonga @kanevill @butterfly-skinnylegend @lidiyabest @killerqueen1985 @ccweasley @bluscryn @deluxeplanteater @ohtorchio @messyhairday-me @bidet-and-legolas @maybanksslut @katyldamusic​ @fuckim-so-gay @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @petit-poussin @fedorable-killjoys​ @luvbadass​ @buttercup-beeee​ @navs-bhat​ @etaerealboyv​ @tryymebitch​ @mell-bell​ @fenhakwe​ @solacestyles​ @softforlukescurls​ @vicsangel​ @theimpossiblehologramtree​ @alina-exe​ @cherricola66​

***

Soft skin against his fingers. A hand running down his chest to his pants. Heavy breathing filling the room. The flesh underneath him felt warm and welcoming, hot to the touch and begging for more. Her perfume filled his senses as she pulled him close. Nails running down his back. Whispers of "amore mio, just like that", "keep going,” “cara mia, vita mia, please".

A “Dami, fuck” leaving her lips as his hand started gripping her thighs. Running between them, as she threw her head back, fingers tangled in his hair, pulling on it. Biting her neck. Coaxing more moans out of him, on a mission to make him lose his mind. She was heaven on earth. Supple breasts moving with every breath as he let his mouth descend on them, one at a time, desperate to consume all of her. Kissing every inch of her, exploring her until he knew about every curve, every ridge, every little spot of her body. He wanted to know all the secrets she ever had. Drawing noises out of her that he wanted to keep hearing for the rest of his life. Her hands on his shoulders, on his back, on his arse. Pulling him further into her. Letting his mouth wander lower, getting wrapped up between her legs. She looked at him with dark eyes, nodding, and he was ready to suffocate in between her thighs.

Wait, was he actually suffocating on her thighs?

Damiano woke up with a start, face pressed deeply into the pillow, restricting his breathing in a way that was much less sexy than the one in his dream. A circle of drool had escaped his mouth and dropped onto the pillow. Well, that's embarrassing, he thought to himself.

He was in the middle of pushing himself up and out of bed, highly aware of the situation in his boxers - only to be interrupted when a knock on the door startled him. Trying to wrap the sheet around him, suddenly overly self-conscious of his state, he hastened to the door, almost tripping several times on the way. When he finally unlocked and opened it, he just about let his head appear in the opening, awkwardly hiding between the door still. Y/n’s face was painted in confusion. He forgot how stunning she really was, his brain not even coming close to painting her image in his dreams.

“Yes, hi, good morning, I’m up! I’ll be down in an hour!” He was rushing to finish his sentence, not giving her a chance to reply before he let the door fall back into its lock. A deep breath out. Her face instilled in his mind like a photograph, unable to be separated from the extremely vivid dream he’d just had. He felt bad. He had essentially slammed the door in her face while wrapped up in a bedsheet. Not a very good impression considering he liked the woman behind the door. This was going to be such a long day.

***

“Why are you so awkward?” Victoria nudged Damiano as they had settled on a couch on the bus. He had been looking off since she had first seen him that morning, which was odd. Especially considering he was usually more of an early bird than the rest of them. “Sleep badly? Bad dreams? Good dreams? Or did you scare Y/n away again with another morning wood incident.”

Damiano’s face burned up as if suddenly ignited, making Victoria gasp.

“Oh my god, did you?!” She smacked his chest with her hand as she let out a gasp.

“I wasn’t even aware you knew about the first time,” Damiano mumbled, slumping down deeper into the seat. Crawling into the shirt he was wearing. Anything to get out of this conversation.

“Word travels fast on tour, you should know that by now,” she giggled, repositioning so she had her legs spread across his thighs. “So what happened?”

“I’m not going to talk about that with you,” he scoffed. Victoria’s grin only spread further, though. She was loving this side of Damiano more than she would like to admit - shy, awkward, unsure of himself. He was one of the best people she knew, an amazing frontman, a talented musician, a loyal friend. Yet with one little addition to the team he had turned into a quivering mess.

“You know I’m just going to ask Y/n what happened, right?”

“Yeah good luck with that, she didn’t even notice. At least I hope not.”

“Wait - so you hid your boner from her? I mean, at least you didn’t traumatise her again. What happened though, did you have some good times before the wake-up call?” She once again nudged him obnoxiously, loving how uncomfortable she was making him. “Did you have a wet dream? Did- Oh my god, you’re blushing, you did have a wet dream! Tell me everything! Was it hot? Did she go down on you or something? Did you see her tits?”

“Fuck off Victoria, I’m not telling you anything, now stop! It’s no like-”

“Hi! Attention, everyone! I know it's early and everyone is probably still asleep. But - announcements! That includes you Thomas,” Y/n said pulling the curtain of the guitarist’s bunk back so he could listen too.

Victoria noticed how their assistant didn’t seem spooked by Damiano’s presence at all - it seemed like he had been right after all. She hadn’t noticed a thing. If only those two would stop playing cat and mouse and finally do something, anything, she thought.

"Now, I know we're all excited about going to Amsterdam today, and I'm not looking at anyone in particular here," she explained as she shot a pointed look at Damiano that no one missed. "But I have one ground rule: no weed before the show. You got tomorrow off, so whatever you do after the performance tonight is none of my business. But god help you if I find you with a joint in hand any time before that."

She smiled, but Victoria had no doubts she would be deadly serious if it came to it. Y/n passed out a map of the local area, highlighting the Leidseplein in the middle of town, and in red circles were the venue, the hotel they were staying at, restaurants, and several coffeeshops, all within easy walking distance.

“Do with that what you like,” she concluded. ”As long as you do it after the show.”

***

The band had gotten to the venue straight after lunch, excitedly discussing some new covers they were thinking about playing that night. Soundcheck consisted of a number of conversations all at once, trying to figure out how to change the setlist. Damiano found himself participating less, instead, staring down at Y/n sitting in the audience. She was busy writing in her notebook, the seats next to her taken up by her bag, folders, and laptop. He knew she needed a break. They all worked extremely hard all the time, so it wasn't difficult to spot the signs of a fellow overworked person. He made it his own personal mission to get her to go out with them that night. Spend some time outside of work, see the city, anything that made her put her phone down.

As day turned to night, the concert loomed on the horizon. As soon as they hit the stage, it was clear it was going to be a good night. Amsterdam was the best kind of crazy. Going from Zitti e Buoni into Billie Eilish's Bury a Friend, the crowd went wild. Damiano noticed with amusement that Y/n was absentmindedly dancing along from her spot on the side of the stage as well. His attention had only been diverted towards her for a second, he was sure, but it was enough to suddenly feel something hit his head. Soft, red fabric.

"Was wondering when the first of those would come around," Damiano chuckled into the microphone in between songs, swinging the bra around a few times, before draping it across his mic stand.

Yet as much as the energy of the audience rubbed off on the band, all of them felt like collapsing after the show, feeling like they'd given it more than their all. A perfect chance to unwind for the night, in a way only Amsterdam really knew how. It was legal, after all.

***

“I am absolutely not getting high with you lot.”

Everyone was gathered in Y/n’s hotel room more or less uninvited. It seemed like they were dying to drag her along on what was supposed to be one of the best nights out on that tour. After getting ready, they had simply stormed in as soon as she had opened her hotel door. Now they were perched on her bed, her desk, and her armchair, trying to convince her.

“I gave you all a map to see where you could go. I, for one, would like to stay in my room, just me and my bed, and sleep till my alarm in the morning. That sounds like a brilliant time in my book.”

“Boring!” Thomas shouted, hurling a pillow from the bed at her that she quickly caught and threw back with much less force.

“If you come out with us, we’ll be ready before your wake-up call for the rest of the week!” Victoria tried to bribe.

“If you come out with us, we’ll have breakfast ready for you every day!” Y/n shot a look at Thomas, knowing fully well this was not going to happen. The idea alone made her laugh.

“If you come out with us, you can keep me company while the other three go crazy?” Ethan finally offered. She knew she was close to giving in, no matter how wrong it seemed to blur the lines between working relationship and friendship. She barely even agreed to drinks when she was on the job, and technically, she considered herself to be on the job 24/7. Yet these four had grown close to her heart so much more than anticipated.

Out of nowhere Damiano appeared next to her, slinging his arm around her shoulder. The way his fingertips brushed her neck as he did so left goosebumps. “Come on, darling, I promise I’ll take care of you.”

It turned out, that was all she had needed to hear.

***

The coffeeshop didn’t differ much from the usual pubs and bars; people stuffed in every corner, a low murmur of talk with the occasional loud laughter over the music playing in the background, tables full of glasses and bottles. Only the smoke lingering in the air, its distinct smell, and the relaxed atmosphere let on that it was a slightly different kind of place. Y/n made short work of weaseling through the crowd and securing a table at the far end of the place, just enough space to accommodate all of them, as the others went to order.

“Do you want one as well?” Damiano asked as soon as he had let himself fall onto the couch next to her, already preparing to roll a joint.

“I think I’m getting a second-hand high just sitting here. Maybe take a puff of one of yours, but I won't be able to finish one myself."

Damiano nodded, licking the inside of the blanks as he prepared his joint. Victoria came bouncing in like a tidal wave - her usual fashion - and crashing into the others already sitting down. As soon as Damiano was happy with his creation, she snatched it out of his hand, making short work of lighting it and taking a drag.

“Hey, that was mine!”

“Make another one,” she grinned, obnoxiously blowing the smoke into his face. Rolling his eyes, Damiano quickly prepared another one for himself, everyone now happy and content with their smokes, until only Y/n was left holding at a glass of water.

She preferred to observe the scene from her little advantage point in the corner like she so often did. The mellow music in the background was loud enough to underline the atmosphere but quiet enough to easily talk to everyone around you without having to shout. She liked this much better than loud bars in the evening. Most people were minding their own business, in small groups or pairs, some on their own. Victoria was quick to start chatting to a pair of girls sitting at the table next to them. She wasn’t going to lie - while not her usual spot, she didn’t exactly feel uncomfortable.

A hand appeared in front of her face, seemingly out of nowhere, and it took her a second to realise it was Damiano, trying to pass her his joint. She hesitated - still not convinced whether she should be smoking at all, but one look into his eyes only proved to her that she was weak to his suggestions. Parting her lips ever so slightly, she let him push the blunt between them, his fingertips grazing her. She took a drag, careful not to breathe in too much too quickly, before releasing the joint. Damiano pulled it back towards himself immediately, putting it back between his own lips, and she felt hypnotised. The moment came to an abrupt end when a cough took hold of her.

“Easy, easy,” Ethan soothed from the other side, his hand on her upper back. “Breathe.”

Everyone around the table seemed to be looking at her now, but she quickly got her composure back, holding up her hands in a gesture that was meant to signal she was fine.

“Fuck,” Y/n choked, taking a drink from her glass to wet her throat. “This is why I don’t smoke.”

“Wrong,” Thomas threw in. “This is because you don’t smoke!”

Y/n shook her head, giggling at the guitarist and the know-it-all look in his eyes.

“Up to try again?” Damiano whispered in her ear as the attention had finally ceased to be on her. She found herself staring into his eyes once again, a fluttery feeling erupting in her stomach at having him watch her so intently, at being able to capture his attention so easily.

The look on his face was enough to get her to try again. And again. And again.

She couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but for once, she genuinely didn’t care. The people around them had changed, old ones leaving, new ones arriving, but the music stayed the same. She wasn’t quite sure what the joke Thomas was telling them was about, but she found herself giggling along nonetheless. This was the best she had felt in forever.

Unaware of what she was doing, she leaned back, finding Damiano’s arms carefully wrapping around her, holding her softly. To her own surprise, she was sinking into him.

“Having fun?” He asked in a voice so low she barely heard it. A voice so soft it made her heart melt. She nodded, slightly twisting around in his embrace to look at him again. She couldn’t get enough of his face. She’d stay and study it for all of eternity if he let her.

"Have you ever seen brown zircon?” She suddenly asked out of nowhere. “It's a gemstone that looks like they made sparkly salted caramel bonbons from rock. They mine it in Tanzania, I think? Your eyes sparkle just like that." She grinned at the man beside her. "I can attest to that from this angle at least. It’s like the one scene in Aladdin! 'She's got these eyes, and this hair and…’ Ah oh god, what am I doing?" She couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous she was being. She found her face resting on his shoulder, completely content. His eyes never wavered from her face, listening closely to what she had to say.

Then Y/n watched her hand brush Damiano’s hair to the front, attempting to style it in a slightly different way. “Did you mean to look like Eren Yeager or was that some sort of subconscious coincidence? Not that it doesn’t look good, of course.”

“You watch Attack on Titan?” Dami looked down at her with surprise.

“No I don’t, but my friends do. So you learn the names of the people they yell at through the TV screen very quickly,” she laughed, remembering the way her friends would huddle in the living room, shouting at whatever the characters were doing wrong in their opinion.

“The more I get to know you, the more I’m convinced you’re my kinda woman, you know?” he mumbled, a smile grazing his lips. The more she looked at him, the more she felt her brain shutting off and her heart taking over. Or was it the high? She wasn’t interested in trying to differentiate.

Once again, he pushed the joint between her lips, holding the eye contact and it felt so much more intimate than it should have. It felt like her nerves were on fire. When he pulled his hand back again, she wanted to grab onto it, keep him in place, keep the moment.

I could stay in this forever, Y/n thought to herself.

"Also, I'm not religious by any means, but whatever God was responsible for creating you sure took their sweet time doing it…" The words spilled from her mouth before she realized she was talking, eyes flicking back and forth between his. "You know?"

She caught herself looking at his lips. A small blush grew on her face as she looked away. Staring out into the room, out at the people sitting next to them at other tables. Something distracting to take the rising heat off.

***

Damiano could feel his defenses wearing away. All ideas of staying away completely vanished into the smoke that lulled them in as he was holding her in his arms, her back leaning against his chest. He could feel her breathing, giggling at nothing at all, or maybe something Victoria had said but he hadn’t heard.

“If anyone’s been made by the angels, it’s you, amore,” he mumbled more to himself than anything, but she had heard him. Another chuckle running through her body. The atmosphere was fogging up his brain. He watched in amusement as he let a finger run up her arms, from her wrist to her upper arm where the fabric of her shirt began, and goosebumps appeared as if standing tall in a row. He tried it again on the other arm, getting the same result.

“What are you doing?”

She was turning around in his arms, just enough to look at him without removing herself from his embrace. He wondered if it was the dim light or if she was always this radiant. His hands travelled to the elastic that was holding her hair together and carefully removed it, eyes on her. Her hair fell around her face, framing it beautifully in its typically wild manner.

“I…” Her eyes seemed to twinkle as the light of the bar reflected back at him through them. “I don’t know.”

He looked away, suddenly insecure. What was he doing? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he couldn’t keep his hands off her, now less than ever. He wanted her. Wanted her all to himself. Wanted to keep holding her like this forever. There was no denying that.

“You’re sweet.”

Her voice took a second to get through to him, but as it did, he turned his head as if in slow motion. All he had wanted to do was look at her again, but that wasn’t what happened. Instead, her lips were on his.

***

All Y/n had done was lean forward to press a kiss against his cheek. Now their lips were meeting and she didn’t know how she had gotten there. She wanted to pull back - no, actually she didn’t. But she thought she should. Though the spirit was willin - to pull away, that was -, the flesh was weak. Delving deeper into his arms, she found herself kissing him like she meant it. Her hands found his chest, feeling the rising heat from his skin. Being closer to him than ever before was driving her crazy. His soft, warm lips against hers. Just the tiniest movements, as if he was afraid of breaking her. She let herself enjoy it. For a moment. That was all her brain allowed before switching back to the rational part. She pulled back in surprise.

She moved out of his embrace, stiffening at the contact. All of the twinkling lights of romance that had just appeared around them now popped as the kiss ended.

I just kissed my boss. I just fucking went and kissed Damiano! I am so, so fucked.

Yet, she couldn't deny that she wanted to kiss him again. And again, and again until they ran out of air to breathe. She looked back at him and the expression on his face said it all. His lids lowered, a small smile appearing on his face. Eyes twinkling in the soft light. He hadn’t wanted the kiss to end either. Either that or the weed was affecting him more than she had thought.

But as cold air started to seep in between them he blinked a couple of times, only now noticing that she had pulled away.

"Sorry - about that. I was trying to- I wasn't trying to kiss you. Well, I was - but not on the mouth. That would have been very forward of me. I would never. That's not me. I don't know how that happened - sorry." Y/n rambled on, unable to stop talking.

Damiano smirked, pecking her cheek. "Y/n, it's fine, you're fine. I turned my head and we kissed. It happens." He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. As if this was some sort of common occurrence. As if she was panicking for nothing. Was she?

***

Damiano desperately tried to hide the turmoil inside of him. It happens?! Damiano, what the hell are you thinking! Not the right thing to say in this situation! Now it just looks like you’d kiss anyone, great. He looked down at his hands, fumbling with his rings. Trying to get his breathing back under control. He needed to be cool.

"I mean - not that I didn't enjoy it. You kiss good!"

You kiss good? What the? That wasn’t even English. He was well and truly losing his mind.

***

Y/n took a deep breath, sitting back in her seat, making sure not to be as close to Damiano as she had been before. Victoria and Thomas had migrated to get more drinks and Ethan was deeply entrenched in some conversation with a man next to him. Luckily the rest of the band hadn't seen what just happened. Grabbing her glass once more, the cold wet condensation gave a stark contrast to her warm skin.

The kiss still left a tingly feeling on her lips. Quickly looking at Damiano, she met his eyes. He had not looked away yet, it seemed. She watched as he bit his lip in contemplation. Whatever was playing on his mind, Y/n didn't know. His words left her believing he wasn’t quite as put together as he tried to pretend. He certainly wasn’t making much sense. Although, she wouldn’t dismiss his compliment of her kissing abilities. She wondered if he would think similarly if they did it again, or did more than that…

Her wandering thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a loud crash. The culprit was quickly spotted. The middle of the coffeeshop, which had been empty of people until then, now had Thomas lying on his front, surrounded by liquid and broken glass.

Y/n didn’t hesitate, jumping up to offer her aid. The worry only lasted for a second though, until Thomas turned on his back, giggling maniacally. She barely managed to kick some shards out of the way before he could roll onto them.

She let out a deep sigh at the state of the guitarist, before quickly apologizing to the people at the bar.

“Everyone help me grab Thomas, I think this is our sign to call it a night.”

***

Y/n thought she’d have an easy time going to sleep. The effects of the joint were lingering, plus, the day had just been plain exhausting. Yet, as her head hit the pillow, she felt restless. Her mind kept circling around Damiano. The way he had looked at her. The way he had looked in general. She had seen him basically naked at this point, but she still thought about how it would be different up close and personal. She wished she had been able to read his eyes more. Had he been thinking about the same things she had? Had he wanted to kiss her again and again, get lost in that bubbling excitement of finally being close, finally let his hands wander to new places? She wanted to pull his hair. See what kind of sound would leave his mouth when doing so.

She wanted his hands and his lips, all of him really, badly. She wanted to know what he felt like when he really kissed her. What his fingers would be able to do to her. Biting and moaning. She desperately needed some release, wishing it would come from him, but knowing there was no chance, at least not tonight. Her hand wandered between her legs as she let her mind run wild. Imagining it was him instead, letting his fingers run along the inside of her thighs, exploring every inch of her. How he would treat her just right, hit all the right spots, do so much better than her own fingers ever could. The words he’d whisper in her ear, seducing her with his mother tongue, breath fanning her skin. How he would kiss her senseless. Feeling the rhythm of their bodies take over. Watch his tattoos start to glisten with a sheen of sweat from what they would be doing.

She found her release almost embarrassingly quickly, burying her face in her pillow. Her body felt more at ease, although her heart was still craving something more. She had almost calmed down, getting her breathing back under control. In a moment of clarity, she checked her phone to see when she had to wake up the next day, when the sound of a moan caught her attention. One that definitely wasn’t her own, but seemed to come from the room next door.

Damiano’s room.

[liam-cadmus]

ANBU

Sasuke grits his teeth, hiking Neji higher on his back. He’s thanking Kami that the Hyuuga is light— the fact should be worrying, if they’re not unconscious and bleeding right now.  The omega has a loose hold around his neck, his black cloak enveloping Neji enough that the warmth of his back is keeping him cold. He tries to hold Neji as securely as he can with one arm, the other supporting Shikamaru. 

His hawk summon, Aya is guiding him through the forest outside the walls, slowly walking closer the gate. Their shadows isn’t seen in the dark, his mismatched eyes looking around in case they get ambushed again.  Wet plops of mud can be heard from his footsteps, dragging Shikamaru with him. He ignores the shaking of his hands, ignoring it to move faster, despite the protest of his wheezing breaths. 

He feels Shikamaru waking up from where he’s supporting him with his left arm, the beta thankfully— awake. “Deer, wake up.” he says quietly, still pulling the other teen along, “It’s just a bit from here, just open your eyes please.”  He pleads, no matter how it hurts his pride, but his emotions are haywire— sometimes being an Uchiha has it’s downsides— and his anxiety is high-strung. His alpha instincts making his ears ring, the overwhelming impulse to protect the people important to him.

Shikamaru blearily opens his eyes, making him sigh in relief seeing familiar chocolate brown eyes. “You with me?” he asks, one brow raised. “Barely.” Shikamaru mumbles, the Nara inhaling his alpha scent, the toasted almonds and smokey cinnamon pheromones helping the beta gather his thoughts. He breathes out slowly, gritting his teeth at the bones in his ribs grating against each other, shivering as the cold wind hits his bare chest, his clothing around the two males he’s with to keep them warm. Shikamaru moves to pull away, making him click his tongue in annoyance. “Deer, stay close.” he tugs the beta closer, Shikamaru’s arm hitting his rib by accident, making him hiss in pain. Shikamaru, only pulls away more when he hears the hiss, attempting to wrench free of his hold. He would be amused if he his instincts aren’t screaming at him to not let go any of the two. His hand grips Shikamaru’s waist tight — making sure that the beta can’t be separated from him.

The beta male just narrows his brows, titling his head, licking his dry, chapped lips. “Why do you keep pulling me?”

 He shakes his head, pretending to shrug, before leaning on the wall, relieved to see they’re in the outskirts. He stops in his tracks, leaning on the wall with his dislocated shoulder, his chakra exhaustion finally putting a toll on his battered body. “Just don’t walk away, you might pass out, you hit your head pretty damn bad earlier.” he rasps, while lowering Shikamaru on the ground slowly, the Nara sinking on the muddy grass below him, blinking repeatedly to fight the sleep away.

His body aches for carrying the two for so long, for once thanking Kami for being an alpha, even if omega genetics is the major second gender running in Uchiha Clan.  “Kakashi,” he calls out, mismatched eyes staring at the lone dark grey eye in front of him, relief flooding his whole being at seeing reinforcements arriving.

“Kid, how are you still standing?” his sensei asks him, sturdy hands holding him up while Wolf carries Neji from his back, Sasuke falling forward to Kakashi’s chest. “5 soldier pills, 3 adrenaline shots and pure sheer will.” he snaps, exhaling shallowly. “Crow, Wolf, we need to shunshin these three to the hospital.” The two other ANBU scouts carry his team on their backs, Itachi and Kiba staring at him with worry.  He waves a hand dismissively, smiling in satisfaction when he sees Itachi’s red eyes glaring at him. “I’m fine, aniki.” he answers, letting Kakashi support him as they shunshin, arriving in the hospital, nurses and doctors alike walking out of their way.

Kakashi drops him to a bed, Sakura slamming the door open with Ino, Tsunade coming in last, the woman glaring at him. “Brat, what mess did you get into?” she pursed her lips, her eyes looking over the obvious bruising by his ribs, and the shudders going through him.

“Obito is with Shisui finishing the mission, they’ll arrive using the Kamui in a bit.” he croaks out, reassuring Kakashi and Itachi for their lovers.

Tsunade rolls her eyes at him, fondly scoffing a ‘tch’ under her breath. “I question myself why you’re my favorite Uchiha.” she says at him, earning a shallow breathy laugh from him, “It must be my charms, a lot of people say so.” 

He drew in a large breath when Tsunade moved his bones back into place, the action making him choke on his breath, coughing wetly. “What happened, Uchiha, you’re only supposed to get intel.” Sparrow asks him, making him look up from where he’s staring at his bloody knuckles.

“Kiri ANBU, three teams, ambushed us.” Several winces comes from the other ANBU scouts, Kakashi’s lips pressed to a tight line. “Obito’s fine, old man.” he teases, patting Kakashi’s arm with his unoccupied hand.  Tsunade decides to click his shoulder back in that exact moment, making him slap the arm in accident. He bit his lips enough to draw blood, turning to the woman with his eyes whirring, glare in place. “That was uncalled for.” Tsunade looks at him, before her hands glow in green chakra, healing the muscles and tissues around the socket on his shoulder, humming. “You should’ve paid attention then, brat.”

He rolls his aching shoulder blades as he leans back on the hospital bed, inhaling the scent of antiseptic and white sheets. He looks at his shivering pale skin, while wrapping his ankles together, whistling, “Thank you, mom.” he says, watching as Tsunade fondly pats his leg. “Try not to get hurled across the field next time.” she jokes, if only she knew. “You should tell that to Shika.” he points to the half-asleep Nara, the beta opening an eye to glare at him. “No, but really, you were thrown across the field.” he says in a firm voice, knowing the beta didn’t remember it, “Kami, my heart stopped beating for like, minutes.” he admits, crossing his arms. “Glad to know you care for me, Uchiha.” Shikamaru yawns, pillowing his head on his folded arms. “As if carrying you two across a whole damn forests isn’t caring, I don’t know what it is.” 

He moves to stand, bare feet planting on the cold ground, stubbornly ignoring the protests of the others telling him he’s healing. He opens the bathroom before looking at them flatly, over his shoulder. “I don’t want to sleep from getting doused on the rain.”  He gestures at his bare chest before turning to Shikamaru, “No matter how lazy you are, you better take a shower or else,” he threatens, narrowing his eyes, “I won’t hesitate to drag you to the shower, wounded or not.” The Nara sighs in defeat, before dryly answering. “Yes Captain.”  He closes the door, turning the knob to the hottest setting, pleased when he sees three folded clothes on the shelf, amused that the three of them already have a separate room from the other patients.

He walks out the shower, steam billowing by his ankles, drying his wet dark locks. He chuckles watching Shikamaru dragging his sleepy form in the bathroom, throwing his towel to the back of the brunette.

The brunette glares at him, before picking the towel off the ground, closing the door behind him. Sasuke fixes their masks by the bedside table, collecting their discarded uniforms to the hamper on the corner, separating his cloak and placing it on the back of a chair.

Sasuke moves their beds beside each other, gently rousing Neji awake, “You need to take a bath,” he tells him, the Hyuuga sleepily walking to the bathroom, while he lays down face down on the larger bed, listening to their humming.

He lays still while the two males drop to either side of him, a thought on the back of his mind nagging him if the his brother and the others are still in the room, but he’s too tired to care. He reminds himself to tell the others of his relationship, tired of being professional in front of them.

He rolls tiredly, looking up to Neji peering at him with white eyes, staring at his very soul. He huffs a quiet chuckle when he feels Shikamaru laying down beside him, an arm moving across his stomach, the rise and fall of his chest comfortable to Sasuke’s side, his arm wrapping around his shoulders.

Neji doesn’t break eye contact, blinking at him softly, the Hyuuga content on switching his gaze between him and Shikamaru. Shikamaru opens his eyes slowly, nuzzling him softly, “Neji, just fucking sleep.” he grouses, letting out a faint brown sugar and coffee scent.

Sasuke snorts, before pulling Neji down, tucking his head to brown locks, inhaling honey — the scent pleasing to the nose even if he hates sweets. 

He kisses their temples, looking at their intertwined hands over his stomach. Shikamaru leans over to kiss Neji on the lips, nudging their noses together before laying down again, muttering ‘how troublesome it was to lean over’. 

“Ah, sleep, I’m tired, you’re both heavy.” he complains, his eyes already drooping. “Ji, you heard that?” he listens as Shikamaru mockingly whispers, the two of them talking about how he’s the heaviest out of the three of them, which is untrue — he has the lightest steps, Shikamaru is the heaviest out of the three. He cuts in, “I’m not the heaviest, I just happen to be the one strongest to carry your two sorry asses across the forest.”  “You love these sorry asses though.” Neji teases, white eyes in mischief. “Damn right I do, now sleep.” he kisses their lips, before pulling the covers over them.

The silence is comfortable, the warm sunlight through the curtains lulling them further to sleep, their scents mingling, the combination fitting so perfectly, their chests breathing in the same rhythm.

“Baby Uchiha!” Obito greets quietly, making Sasuke scowl at him in irritation, not appreciating woken up from his sleep. He glares, feeling his drowsiness slip away from him, making him grumble.  “We still need to do the report.” Obito reminds him, still standing in his uniform. Sasuke stares at him, glancing from his mates to Obito, and back again. “Fine.” he answers blankly, separating his limbs from his lover’s, pushing the two together. Sasuke sighs at the sleep he just lost, before securing his boots, murmuring how it’s unfair he can’t rest after bringing two people on his own. 

“Sas, why’re you leaving?” he glances back at Neji’s sleepy mumble, making his features soften.

“Just report, I’ll be fast.” he reassures him, closing the door when the omega tucks his head on Shikamaru’s chest.

“So, that’s your lovers?” Obito teases, throwing an arm around his shoulder, ruffling his hair.

“No, that’s just my teammates who just likes to cuddles.” he retorts dryly, pushing Obito’s hand out of his now unruly hair.

“Maa, maa, you’re so agressive.” Obito mimics Kakashi, making him puff out a laugh. “Come on, I still need to sleep.” he tugs his cousin to run faster, the two of them on the way to the Hokage Tower.

(A very short AU prompt, soooo.....it’s a Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies....with A/B/O dynamics and Sasuke has the Rinnegan, cause I want to. I would’ve wrote this better if I wasn’t so damn busy...so excuse me for the OOC moments..)

[ggukkiedae]

❝𝕀𝕟 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕠𝕠𝕡❞

𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜:

⇢ Episodes 5-6

𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜:

⇢ conversations written in italics are spoken in english. requests and feedback are highly appreciated!

⇢ script form (name: lines) are the interviews

Episode 5

she was in the back oh hoseok and taehyung’s car with a book open on her lap

“makdung-ah, have a sandwich”

hoseok handed her a sandwich which she blindly reached for and nearly knocked over, making hoseok shout and taehyung shocked

“got it! i got it! sorry, i’m a mess”

she was laughing and settled back in her chair, sandwich in hand and focus on her books

she saw seokjin in his sunglasses and choked a little “hobi oppa, where’s the water?”

they were talking about taehyung’s mixtape at some point

“oppa’s music is really nice, though. the stuff you let me hear is really good, i love listening to them” “thanks, aegi”

“look at you guys and your mixtapes. am i the only one who’s going to promote solo as an idol?”

hoseok and taehyung just laughed at her “we’re your biggest fans”

“we’re heeeeeere! my trampoline!”

hoseok opened her door for her and helped her out. she took her small carriers, still two because one held all her equipment while the other held her clothes and some skincare and makeup

“is it necessary to bring work here?” jungkook asked her

“i mean, you never know when ideas will pop up, right?”

a few minutes later, you can see her running up to the cars again “my guitar’s still in the car!”

miya: honestly, i was just excited to be able to relax again. i don’t think i ever slept that much anywhere else. the oppas say it’s good for me *laughs*

the first thing she did when she got in her room was to pull her blanket from the carrier with her equipment and take her plushies out of her backpack

she put them down inside the mosquito net “alright toph, koda, time for you guys to rest from the long drive”

she ran over to the upper house “yoongi oppa! can i help with the food!” “that would be much appreciated, princess”

she’s chopping up vegetables quickly, drawing hoseok’s attention

“sometimes, i forget you’re a good cook because of how clumsy you are. hyung, you know she nearly dropped her sandwich in the car earlier?” “oppaaaa, don’t tell them thaaaat”

she was grilling some marinated pork chops in the kitchen while the older members were outside. hoseok stopped by, and she cut him a little piece for tasting

“perfect as always, makdungie”

jungkook punching the broth behind her distracted her the slightest bit by making her laugh “oppa, you’re hyperactive today”

she brought the huge dish of marinated pork out to the table and yoongi had her taste the dakgalbi

“ooooh it’s smokey, i love it!”

she made sure to get the bowl with what looked like the least amount of noodles which yoongi noticed and made up for it by giving her a lot meat

meanwhile seokjin looked at her “i still can’t believe you won’t tell us how you make the marinade for your pork” “that’s a secret between me and yoonsungie oppa”

she ran off after eating saying she had to brush her teeth

right after she did, she ended up sitting by the deck with her guitar playing random melodies and writing them down

seokjin surprised her by arriving and going straight into the canoe

“oppa?” “i hit a ball into the lake by accident” “well, looks like a home run”

she laughed when his canoe hit the deck before setting her guitar down and helping him out of it

“oh god, i’m sleepy”

she headed up to the main house with seokjin where jungkook was half asleep

she settled next to him and somehow they made themselves fit into the small bench. they just passed out despite the other members being quite loud

hoseok and seokjin were trying to wake the two maknaes up. seokjin picked her up from jungkook’s grasp and she just ended up wrapping her limbs around him and burying her face in his neck and going back to sleep

“oppa,” she mumbled while seokjin was hitting jungkook with the foam roller, “this game is so violent. and loud. and making you move a lot”

“aigoo, you two won’t be sleeping in the boat house later at this rate”

next you see of her, she’s in the kitchen whisking eggs and talking to herself

“this whole process can’t be aired to protect my fried chicken recipe,” she looked at the nearest camera “please keep it a secret, editor-nims”

while jungkook is filleting the fish, they overlay the sound of her frying the chicken

“simple fried chicken when done well is worth a lot”

seokjin walked in, yoongi close after

“oppas, i’m making chicken! what else are we having for dinner?”

seokjin patted her head “you did well, princess. what about doenjang jjigae?” “oh, sounds good!”

yoongi helped her bring the plates of fried chicken out to the table which she began to set for them

jungkook hopped out to have her taste some of the sushi making her grin

then he threw her over his shoulder

“stop hovering over the chicken and come inside to help taste stuff!” “but the bugs!”

she ended up inside tasting yoongi’s jjigae

she stayed off to the side mixing a bunch of sauces together for the chicken if the others wanted to flavor it

jungkook came and playfully put some of the honey soy sauce on the sushi and tried it

“wah, hold on, that’s actually good” “oppa, save the sauce for the chicken!” “there’s also garlic parmesan and teriyaki!”

miya: it felt nice to have a lot of us in the kitchen. there were so many things going on both creative wise and, well, cooking wise. i usually cook alone at the dorms or with one other person, but being with a lot of people gives it a more chaotic but homey feel. it’s… it’s a very warm feeling”

there were compliments passed around for the chicken, sushi, and soup and she just had the biggest grin on her face while eating

seokjin placed a small plate in front of her “these pieces don’t have wasabi, so you can eat it”

“let’s have yoonmi’s marinated fried chicken tomorrow!” “oh, good. i already marinated them in the fridge for tomorrow, anyway”

yoongi pulled the soju bottle away from her “that means no drinking tonight, princess. we want you awake in time to cook lunch”

she headed for the boat house after dinner

Episode 6

jimin popped into her room while she was settling herself in bed. he crawled into her mosquito net with her and began tucking her in

“i haven’t done this in a while”

miya: jiminnie oppa had a habit of tucking me in before sleeping back when i was younger. we got older, though, and i started staying in the studio later, so he never got to do it much anymore. it was pretty nostalgic, and i felt like i was fourteen or fifteen again

“i though jinnie oppa wanted to play baseball with you” “i told him i’d come back after checking in on you”

he settled her plushies on either side of her head which made her giggle

“you’re growing up way too fast, aegi. i can’t believe you’re an adult now” “i guess so”

he kissed her forehead “you’re still our makdungie, though. sleep well, alright?”

she smiled at him “good night, oppa”

jimin: i think i didn’t enjoy yoonmi’s childhood enough. one minute, she’s a little kid who barely reached my chest. the next, she’s twenty years old, a successful actress and soloist alongside being in bangtan, and she has a boyfriend, too. i know she’s still my baby, but i feel like time flew by way too fast

the next day, she walked into the upper house kitchen to find seokjin and yoongi cooking. she was still rubbing her eyes, and her hair was a mess

“aigoo, our princess is still sleepy”

she walked right into seokjin’s arms and closed her eyes while he slightly rubbed her back

“should i cook the marinated fried chicken?”

yoongi patted her head “we have a lot of dakgalbi, it’s okay”

she settled on the table facing yoongi while he grilled, chin in her hands as she tried to stay awake on the table

yoongi woke her up and placed a fork in her hand knowing she’s too sleepy to properly use chopsticks

she ate in silence, eyes half-closed

jimin chuckled at her “sleep well last night, aegi” “mhmm yes, oppa”

when they finished lunch, she headed straight for the common area in the main house with her book

she sat reading in between jungkook and namjoon while they painted

“oppas, how’s the weather gonna be today?” “really nice, apparently”

she closed her book for a while before getting up. she silently made her way over to the boat house where she started doing her hair and makeup.

“i’ve got to do a self-photoshoot before i let the nice weather go to waste”

a few minutes later, she’s out on the deck with her phone on a tripod on video mode. she sets it up and presses record before posing by the fence

“god, i hope this comes out pretty”

she moves around a little before checking her phone

“ooooh these are kinda good. okay let me put on a dress and take pictures by the flowers”

jungkook glances at the view again a few minutes later and lets out a laugh when he sees yoonmi in a dress all done up and posing in front of her phone

“i didn’t think she’d actually do the self-photoshoot”

nearly twenty minutes later, she’s back in her loungewear in between namjoon and jungkook taking screenshots of herself from her mini self-photoshoot

she looked up and just watched jungkook paint

“it’s amazing how you can just do that” “i’ll teach you if you want to try” “maybe tomorrow”

she headed inside the common room and continued reading in there

when the sun started to set, she headed over to her room to put her book down

she washed off her makeup and headed up to the upper house

[hrmdream]

7 Days of Pitch Perfect - Day 1 (Colors)

Hi @beca-mitchell​ . Thanks for this fun idea. Please accept my bulls**t.

Summary: Beca and her appreciation for colors in Pitch Perfect 3. Rating: M (for language) Word count: 989 This is not beta’d. I 100% word vomitted. I’m sorry if it is very very bad. Story beneath the cut.

Years ago, Beca would tell you she never much cared for colors. Her palette was shades of mainly black and blue, though never outright either. Give her those colors, mute them, dim them, mix a dash of grey -remix this color business, if you will- and then you were speaking Beca’s language.

These days, her taste has changed. Her appetite for colors has grown. Beca will taste the fucking rainbow, because no longer are vibrant, warm, heavily saturated colors threatening to blind her by merely crossing her field of vision. In fact, they captivate her. They draw Beca in. Depending on their form, they can pull an easy smile or cause her heart to pound. Stutter. Stop.

And on the beautiful southern coast of France, under the heat of a sun sitting high in the sky without a single cloud for company, the colors of the rainbow had never looked as stunning as they do here.

Red. 

Beca believes red has never looked so good. She has never seen Chloe’s hair shine so brightly. 

New York City’s color scheme is a drab backdrop, allowing Chloe and her eye-catching hair to undeniably be a focus, but here, even among the lively colors painting the Cote D’azur, Chloe’s hair color is a rarity amongst a landscape filled with natural beauty. 

If Beca were an artist, she would draw a head of ginger hair easily discernible in a crowded antique street market. She would color red curls gently blowing beside the endless expanse of a clear blue shoreline. She would highlight fiery long waves accented by rays of a warm sun. 

(She would also make sure to paint cherry lips popping against sun-kissed and freckled skin.)

Orange. 

Beca swears everything in Nice, France naturally glows. The streets, the people, the buildings. Everything is a happy byproduct of large volumes of soaked sun, because no matter the time of day, she is sure to find something tinted with a hue of orange. A hue of liveliness.

Right now it happens to be a post-explosion ship, smokey and orange, glowing before a dark sky. But there is also Chloe. Huddled in a wool blanket, her face delicately subdued, Beca also sees Chloe glow. Beca has seen Chloe before, but right now there is an aura of orange radiating around her.

Beca marks the image in her mind. Chloe -alive, breathing, calm- glows orange.

Yellow.

Beca feels like DJ Khaled’s team took debuting her as a new star a little too literally. 

The jacket they gave her is more than yellow. It is gold. It shines, and it sparkles. And the decorative threading of the skirt hugging her waist is just as golden, shining and sparkling. 

Beca is certain if someone vaulted her out of a cannon, she could easily be mistaken for a shooting star, because really… there is so much yellow. So much gold.

With the spotlight shining down on her as she stands in the middle of the stage, Beca briefly wonders if yellow is even her color, but then Chloe is smiling up at her, and Beca smiles back, and damn the swelling in her chest is reminding her of another time. 

Another time when Beca sits on a stage. 

Another time when Chloe smiles enthrallingly.

Another time when yellow is a part of her performance.

And huh. Beca guesses yellow makes sense. Especially when the way Chloe is looking at her now makes her feel like gold.

Green.

Green is not really a color that pops on Beca’s radar. 

Even if most of the natural world is green, Beca is something of a hermit, mostly staying inside and working in front of a mixing board or laptop, so green is not a color she sees on the regular. 

Outside of Barden and graduation, green really means nothing to her. 

Before right now. 

Because right now, green is all Beca sees. Green is all she feels. 

Chloe is kissing Chicago, and damn Beca wishes she did not need to experience this moment to understand why the jealousy monster is green. 

She is swirling with envy and a little bit of anger, because really? Chicago is kissing a girl like Chloe and that’s all he can manage? 

Beca wants to throw down. She feels almost hulk-ish. If this were a comic book, the next few frames would show you Beca’s skin turning green and her clothes beginning to shred. She is fueled by envy. She is channeling green-monster friends. 

Maybe that’s why her feet are suddenly striding forward.

Blue.

Blue is the last thing Beca sees. Right before she closes her eyes, right before lips come crashing into hers, Beca is once more captured by bright, brilliant blue. 

It is Beca’s favorite color. Beca’s favorite shade.’

Almost all of Beca’s favorite memories feature this specific blue. And this moment is no exception - surely going to top the list - because this blue is Chloe blue.

It is a blue that encourages Beca to smile, sends her off to dream, steals her breath away,  and makes her feel seen. 

No other blue makes Beca feel enamored quite like this blue.

This blue is one of a kind.

This blue is unique.

This blue, Beca hopes, will be hers to keep.

(Based on the way Chloe is trying to lift Beca’s leg up to wrap around her waist, Beca thinks Chloe might just let her.)

Indigo...

To be honest, Beca has no idea how to differentiate indigo and violet. Also, she’s a little too preoccupied to care. 

If you must know though, the glimpses she caught of the carpet in the hotel hallway leading up to her hotel room might have some indigo. Beca’s not entirely sure. 

And the painting of the flower right above her bed could be violet, but she’ll get back to you tomorrow. 

Not like she owes you an explanation, but Beca has a lot of Chloe to explore, and she is going to be making use of more than just her sense of sight to do it.

[andotherbiases]

Titans at the dawn of the world

Fandom: It’s Okay to Not Be Okay Pairing: Ko Moon-Young/Moon Kang-tae Rating: Teen? (The whole thing takes place in a bed) Warnings: N/A Summary: Kang-tae and Moon-young the morning after the events of episode 6 (minor spoilers if you haven’t seen it yet).  Notes: I haven’t written anything in years and this hasn’t even been beta’d, oops. More of a character/relationship analysis than plot-y.

It comes to him all at once. 

The whisper of a breeze upon his cheek. The scent of damp trees long forgotten. Clear melodies of early bird songs, and, somewhere in the distance, waves lap at the shore with the rising promise of a spring day. 

He greets the morning with a sigh. Limbs stretching as his eyes open and blink once, twice, and land on the balcony, its doors thrown open to the world beyond.

To the world anew. 

It is early yet, and he has beaten the sun to these hazy skies of soft blues and dusty pinks and smokey purples. And there, in the inky shadows he sees her face, at once angelic and soft, but her eyes are clear and daring as she stares at him and gives away nothing else.

Except for her hands, of course.

He can feel them still, her palms pressed against his chest as her fingers grabbed and gripped at him throughout the night, never loosening or lessening even as her sobs subsided and her breath grew deep and long. 

Even now, with her eyes upon him, waiting, expectant of something that he doesn’t know, can’t begin to understand, her fingers are still twisted in his shirt. And that is when he registers her cold toes against his calves, his arm around her shoulder. Her small her body tucked into his side as they lay in her bed. 

Her body feels like a contradiction, really. When he sees her outside of this place, she’s all sharp edges and words, full of bluster and impulse and the sheer confidence of an imposing, unfathomable figure. She takes up space unapologetically and moves about the world like it belongs to her, like it owes her something, and she takes from it with the assuredness of someone who knows that this is true. 

It makes her seem like a titan, colossal in all the ways that matter and unbound by laws, by convention, by expectation. 

And yet, here in his arms, she feels small and fragile and delicate. In her bed, her body is all soft curves and warmth. 

He hadn’t intended to stay the night. Had tried to tuck Moon-young back into bed, but every time Kang-tae tried to extract himself from her grip, she would frown and tighten her hold. In truth, he hated seeing the distressed look upon her face, the deep line that formed between her brows that he knew she had not meant to let him see. 

Perhaps it was that secret expression that made him stay. Maybe it was his own fatigue, or perhaps even his own desire to care and comfort her that eventually had him settling them down in her sheets, his arm secured around her. 

Moon-young doesn’t need him to save her, he knows this well. But, undeniably, there is something about her that draws him in. When he was younger it was easy to dismiss his attraction as gratitude, as the flush of a first love. Now, however, it is harder to put into words what exists between them. History? Trauma? Regardless, he always comes back to her, is always returning to her, even when he knows he should walk away. 

But now, feeling the weight of her gaze upon him, he wonders if it wasn’t a mistake to stay. If he had chosen wrong. He knew that the night had cost her something. Kang-tae witnessing her nightmare and sleep paralysis was deeply intimate and private. Worse, it wasn’t something freely given. 

He wonders if he should apologize. If his presence is unwelcome, an intrusion, even. Is she mortified to find him there? Does she even remember the events of the previous night? While he has grown accustomed to the feeling of her eyes on him, for the first time, he is unable to hold her gaze. Kang-tae moves to disentangle himself, an apology forming on his lips when he notices, rather, feels, the slight shiver run down her back. The words shift and re-form in his mouth, concern for her well-being once again coming before all else. It is a feeling he understands and one he latches onto. 

“How are you feeling? Are you alright?” He couldn’t hide his worry even if he tried. 

He didn’t try.

Beyond her shoulder, dawn is breaking on the horizon, casting golden hues upon her face as she blinks up at him. 

Kang-tae has never once doubted the fact that Moon-young was beautiful. Even when he didn’t want to admit his past connection to her, when he could barely acknowledge her presence in his current life, he always knew she was pretty. But like this, bathed in the light of a new sun, honest and vulnerable--like this, Moon-young is breathtaking.

“You’re still here,” she says with that voice of hers, deeper still at this early hour. “You didn’t run away.” 

There’s a question there. Hidden and difficult to tease out given their history and their present and all the things they don’t say or only say in half truths. Even still, Kang-tae understands.

“No,” he replies. It is a single word, but it feels heavy on his tongue. It hangs thick in the air between them. 

But then Moon-young nods, accepting what he’s said and what he means, and finally releases the white-knuckle grip she has on him. She busies herself smoothing down the wrinkles in his shirt. She doesn’t move out of his arms and he doesn’t pull away.

“My mother appears in my dreams,” she states, peering up at him as if a little unsure. Kang-tae understands that too. This is new territory for both of them. He holds his breath, and listens when she continues.

What Kang-tae doesn’t know yet are the words for what has him staying there with her, or even what it is in him that feels so alive when he’s with her, but in the soft light of dawn, he thinks that he wants to be brave enough to find out. 

[tuttifuckinfruttifriday]

@randomly-a-fan

Meeting (part 2!)

-purity

Part 1 here

Part 3

Pairing: Jason Voorheese x MJ, side of MJ x Oc

Warnings: gore, violence, some censored curse words, mature themes, characters death(not MJ), hormonal teens-, dark

Don’t hesitate to tell me any mistakes I did! Sorry if it’s not that good, I’m trying—

-

“W-what’s that?!” “C’mon!!” Two drunk teenagers were running through the woods, trying not to trip in their own feet. Obviously, they were being chased by none other than the killer that murdered the trespassers that trespassed on the propriety they were camping on with their friends: Camp Crystal Lake.

At the moment the male at the front was going to say something, they finally saw their campement. “GUYS!!-GUYS WAKE THE FXCK UP—!!!” He screamed as he ran towards a random cabin, seeing that it was the closest one. Tears streamed down his face when he heard his friend’s pained screaming behind him, the killer having obviously caught him. It was dead silence outside, which means that his chances to survive were really low. “PLEA—“ Before he could end his sentence, Jason threw the machete at him, hitting him right in the head and killing him instantly, blood spraying all over the ground around the campfire. His lifeless body fell to the ground as his shouts were cut, nobody aware of anything that happened as they all slept.

—

At the rise of the sun, everybody woke up hangover, except evidently Eric and MJ. They were the only ones who didn’t look like shit actually. But it was when everybody was eating that the trouble started... “Did anybody see Clara and Steve—?” “—And Jay and Anto?” MJ’s eyes went to the slowly panicking teens, suddenly realizing the growing tension and the dark aura that seems to be there. It was almost like she could feel eyes on her, all the hair on her body standing up. While everybody was trying to continue their small breaks fast at the picnic tables, she looked towards Eric, who strangely was looking towards the woods, a frown on his face. When he turned back, he only shook his head with a movement of his hand, saying that it was nothing. A little before they sat down, he thought having seen some movements from the border of the trees, probably a small animal, and yet he didn’t like it. Maybe it was paranoia, but he just felt like something was wrong, the feeling almost literally eating him from the inside... Like maggots.

Later, MJ and her friend went to their cabin, because the brunette wanted to take her sketchbook.

Only to realise it’s not there anymore. “W-where is it?!” Eric turned sharply around, a confused expression on his face as to ask her silently what she’s talking about. “M-...My sketchbook..” She finished, tears coming to her eyes. “We’ll find it, don’t worry..” At that, she looked at Eric and smiled gently, being really happy that she met him, but not knowing that it would probably be the last time she would have a peaceful moment with him...

When they gathered all their things with their swimming suits, all the teens went to the lake, wanting to take a swim. Eric had a shirt and his swim trunks, which was kind of strange since the others were almost naked, but MJ wasn’t one to complain, and it was his body after all. While the other women were wearing bikinis, she wore he favorite swimsuit, which she had for a long time: it had her favourite flowers on it and it was her favourite colours, the reason why she loves it.(kind of like that v but with (f/c) and (f/f)).

They didn’t go into the water at first, the two of them wanting to enjoy the scenery, eating some snacks they took with them and a pack of Reese(;)).. Everything was pretty normal, until they heard a scream coming from behind them—

“RUN—“ Everybody turned around and/or jumped before most of them screamed, a hot and sticky liquid splattering over them before the person that screamed fell into the water, red-smokey substance coming to the water’s surface. Everybody that was close enough started screaming, coming to the docks and running or swimming away from land. The air felt suffocating and was really dark, so Eric turned around slowly when he felt the gaze of a certain killer, his masked face hiding all his emotions and shadowing his eyes, making him look even darker.

(A little bit earlier)**

The undead man walked around the camp, wondering were the trespassers were, thinking that maybe they got back to were they came from, only to realize the van’s still there. His cold blood seemed to boil at the idea of the teens staying on his propriety, his fist tightening around the handle of his machete. With long strides, he walked towards the lake, telling himself that they were probably there or they had gone to the market a little bit away from the camp, only to stop as his feet kicked something, his eyes looking down. He was surprised when he saw a sketchbook, more precisely the book that brunette girl was carrying, a pencil a little bit away but he didn’t care as he took carefully the book in his hands, seeing to initials written on the front which said : M.J. With some little scribbles and flowers. If it was anybody he wouldn’t care, but since it was the more quiet and really pretty one, that he was clearly more interested in, he decided that he would take a peek, not really caring tho that he dirtied the cover and sheets. Turning the pages with surprise and curiosity, he turned until he found her most recent one, what looked like a forest with a cute little rabbit at the bottom. Strangely, this drawing made him think about his perception of the forest, how the animals made it look alive and lightened the scenery. Suddenly remembering why he was supposed to do, he shook his head and put the book inside of the pocket of his coat that’s inside it, not wanting to lose it with the outside ones. She was too pure for them... but the male that’s always with her needs to go before he does anything.

**(present)

The male put himself before his friend, glaring at the bloodied killer with his orange eyes, not caring if he killed him quicker with that. That’s when a small but audible gasp escaped MJ, her eyes catching sight of the familiar cover that she could see inside the killer’s coat. Before she could say or do anything tho, Eric bent down quickly and escaped the killer’s weapon, taking a paddle that’s on the ground. Okay, maybe it was stupid, but it was better than anything.

For some time, he esquives his swings, surprising him, but he still gets cut pretty bad evidently. When he finally falls to the ground, MJ decided to save herself, seeing the sad glance he gives her—

But as she starts to run, she feels something hard hitting her in the back of the head and falls to the ground, her face meeting the damp forest floor. The last things she sees through her blurry vision is the killer’s masked face, his head tilted to the side before she hears a scream and everything goes black.

When the police arrived, the only thing they saw was the van, with all the bodies inside except Eric’s and MJ’s.... But with a little searching, they finally found Eric bleeding out, his face and body cut everywhere.

The end.. or is it 👀-

[publiclyabsent-moved]

         she never meant for the brief walk home to last so long. after all, how many times has she walked from home to library and back again? how many places had she committed to memory on the path, knowing when the shadows aren’t quite right? not that she did anything about it. not that she could have ever guessed what that meant.

         the house had never been there, and annette knew it. she didn’t realize she’d been walking in its lawn until the gate to the yard slammed and locked behind her. i must be dreaming, she thought. every living thing in the front yard was dead and decayed, crunching under her worn sneakers. she turned to the road, watching as cars passed by. no one seemed too concerned about the suddenly derelict house in a previously empty lot. perhaps she shouldn’t have been, either. maybe her memory was failing her, even though she would remember this. facing the house again, its dusty windowpane eyes stared her down. it was time to go back, the icy pull in her ribcage insisted. go back home, stay away, take detours. but the rest of her body pulled itself forward, toward the door. a dark wood, clean as new, with a silvery knocker, too ornate for this side of town. she stares at the door. without a thought, thin fingers wrap around the knocker, intending to knock three times. after the first, the door swings open, and she feels herself ushered inside, the icy feeling in her lungs getting colder.

         the interior looked untouched by the time that had beaten the outside - the cozy grandeur elicited a gasp from the small brunette girl, which was greeted with an eerily warm female voice. “it really is beautiful, isn’t it?”

         annette turned, hazel eyes landing on a tall blonde woman standing in a hall. this was wrong. this woman wasn’t alive; she was too sweet to someone just walking into her house. the surprise on annette’s face must have been clear, as the blonde offered a warmer laugh. “don’t worry, dear. i had the same reaction when i first saw it, i’ll admit. the woodwork, the walls … it always feels like home. even to strangers.” her teacup, decorated with little violets, clattered against its matching saucer as she approached, causing annette to take steps back toward the door. “oh, don’t go - here, allow me to introduce myself. i’m cassandra, cassandra james. my friends call me cassie. the tea is still warm, would you like some?” annette didn’t mean to offend by shaking her head, but that was the apparent result. “no? hm. that’s all right, no harm done. after all, that means more for me, doesn’t it?” somehow, at the blonde’s gesture, they both began walking, annette warily behind cassie, who seemed something akin to a magnet.

         they arrived in the kitchen, and somehow annette found herself seated across from the woman, a matching teacup in front of her. she never agreed to tea. it didn’t smell right, and annette kept her hands clasped tightly in her lap. the kitchen looked slightly more as it ought to, though the table was clean. the walls seemed cracked and the floors were dusty, the floorboards creaky. cassie’s smile remained closed, though she was doing her best to make the younger feel welcomed in this impossible house. “those are some terribly large glasses, hm, dear? a little dusty, too - here.” she removed the glasses in one swift movement, causing annette’s hazel eyes to go wide. of course nothing was clear any more, but typically glasses did not brighten. everything was darker now, and the warmth that radiated from the house faded. it was all cold. annette could feel the icy feeling in her chest creep up the back of her neck. “perhaps this will be better, annette.” colder.

          “i-i-i n-nev-ver -- i-i nev-ver t-t-tol-ld y-you m-m-my n-name.”

          that causes cassie’s smile to widen, exposing stony teeth and a broken wire -- the kind used to wire a corpse’s jaw shut. the rest of her became older, more pointed, even greyer. she grew darker and colder just like the house, and annette was frozen in her seat. “oh, honey, didn’t you? i thought you had - ah, silly cassie. either way, drink your tea. please.” the teacup had become dirty and cracked, a too-dark liquid in it. annette’s breath grew shallow and quickened, but she wished she wasn’t so quick to panic. if she had kept calm, she could have just gone home. “i’ll be quite hurt if you don’t, annette.” it sounded like her mother’s words in another’s mouth. her own name felt like ice water, the consonants crisp and nearly pointed. cassie’s hollow, smokey eyes searched her guest’s face coldly, the icy smile unwavering. “well, you’ll have time. come then, i’d like to show you the house.” the voice had started ringing in annette’s head -- house, house, house, house.

           annette began shaking her head, frozen in place. “n-no, m-m-miss, i-i sh-should b-be g-g-going, i --” her stammered protests were interrupted by cassie pulling her up with a sharp vice-grip around her upper arm, nails digging into flesh, before the hold adjusted to the uncertain arm-in-arm that gave only the illusion of the freedom to leave. before the ghost began walking, her other hand replaced the talons in annette’s arm. she was led out of the kitchen, back into the entrance. the warmth of before was gone, the sunlight that was barely peeking through dusty glass and warped wood even being iced down. the front door was barred from the inside, and had been that way for some time, the wood rotted and growing fungus. the temperature dropped further, inciting shivers in the medium. cassie continued to guide her along, into a darker hallway full of closed doors. annette’s voice was thin, near tears, “m-m-miss-s, p-p-pleas-se --”

            cassie’s grip tightened angrily, turning annette flat against the wall with a strength it didn’t seem like she would be allowed to have. hazel eyes close, praying this is some horrible nightmare that she will wake up from. the tarnished silver on the walls clattered with the impact of her body; the doors sounded in accord with a motionless slam. annette felt herself shrinking beneath the blonde woman, who was growing taller and paler and colder by the second. “i said i would like to show you the house. though i imagine --” her long black fingernails dug harshly into the skin around annette’s jaw, almost surely drawing blood. with a gasp, annette’s eyes open. she is awake. pointed, stony smile widens -- “you’ll be well acquainted with it soon enough.” annette felt herself sink into the wall, her breathing becoming even more panicked. this only dug the fingernails deeper, encouraged by an almost helpless squeak. annette reached her feet down, trying to find the ground, feet no longer feeling the floor so soundly. “oh, no. no, no, no -- this won’t do, will it?” cassie’s grip never wavered or loosened, though her furious expression softened into something similar to sympathy. closer to bemused pity. the ice never melted. in fact, the grip tightened on her face, causing annette’s eyes to water. 

           “oh, poor dear. you are so small, aren’t you? why, i could just …”

           cassie’s free hand wrapped the whole way around annette’s wrist, smokey eyes turning their focus there. her grasp tightened, squeezing the joint harshly, before yanking annette’s arm (and thus, annette) away from the wall, ignoring the living girl tumbling over her own feet, only having three limbs with which to catch herself. “now, dear, do get up. there is so much of the house to see!” upon being forceded back onto her feet, annette couldn’t help using her available hand to grasp at her neck, trying to breathe, the panic welling up like fingerprints.

            time wasn’t right. it never is in these sorts of things, of course, but it was particularly not right in that house. being dragged down the hall took hours, though it should only have been moments. sounds swirled in her hair, in her head, all over, echoes of memories that were not her own, that rattled her skull, and cassie very well may have been harming her further. annette’s mind was far from present, the truths of this place careening her through each floorboard. cassie killed her husband. cassie killed her children. cassie killed every other person who hid in their bedrooms in the house. she confessed as much. after all, the house hadn’t really been there in fifty years, and hadn’t been occupied in fifty before that. what was the harm? the harm, it seemed, had pent up and was soaking into the one living thing on the property. the house’s walls blurred, past and present leaking together into annette’s eyes and ears, the solid world nearly vanishing.

             moments of clarity were few and far between - only when cassie hit or swiped at her, a sharp and too-gravelly “are you listening, girl? or are you trying to die, just like everyone else?” ringing clearly through the warped wooden frame of the house. it caused all her senses to snap vividly into reality, and that very reality sent her flying into misty memories again. the blood drawn from her cheeks and mouth was dried and likely stained on the sweater she’d worn, she’d never wear again, and the dust and grime of age and death had coated half of it; the smell will never come out. afterward, annette would only recall the hands of the other spirits furiously grabbing at her in her nightmares. all the hands were rough, some small and some withering, some sharp and some too tough for benevolence, they pulled her back to reality more than once. why? why would the hands of these fellow victims want her dead? why won’t they help? each hand drew a panicked scream from her, till one covered her mouth, or accidentally half-gouged her gums, or otherwise kept her quiet.

              the last time -- she would recall this one clearly as the last, though she never knew just how long she had been there. she would always remember it. she would wake up in a blind panic for years, her mind pulling her back into the rotted wood and dusty furniture. cassie flew into a final fit of rage at annette, who managed out one pitiful “please,” digging nails into her shoulders and swiping once at her face, screaming furiously about disrespect and no longer permitting this insolence. none of the other screaming was coherent, though she continued to shriek as she took annette by her ankles and dragged her halfway up a flight of stairs, planning to travel the other half. the plan was clear: she was going to throw the medium down the stairs. she was going to add someone to the collection. annette tried frantically to use her thin, shaking fingers to hold onto something, only receiving splinters and ripped fingertips. the dust that she kept inhaling in shallow gasps tore at her lungs, which still felt frozen solid. her throat was too raw to scream, but the unfeeling hands of her fellow victims heard her anyhow. countless hands, stronger than ever before, finally understanding enough, took hold of her (likely sprained) wrists and arms, grabbed her middle just a little too tight, and then took hold of cassie’s ankles and pulled her down, causing her to scream anew, kicking and stomping at the hands. “enough! enough! i am the woman of the house, i demand you all let me go!” the sharp eagle’s grip on annette’s ankle disappeared, her shoe colliding with the floor with a dull thud. cassie’s screaming melted away, though she isn’t sure if that was really happening or if she simply started fading again.

              facedown into the old and moth-eaten carpet, the medium cried silently, afraid to move. she was hyper-aware of the spectral hands letting go, leaving finger-shaped bruises in their place. the stairs flattened into solid earth, into grass. it smelled like dirt. her mouth tasted like blood. the tears on her face stung each crescent shaped gash on her face. she could still feel every cut, every bruise, and the sharp, thudding pulse in her wrists. the sun was warm again, but different. it was not afraid to touch her, like it had been. the grass she was laying in was wet -- it hadn’t rained, had it? she couldn’t move. she was afraid to look and see this as another illusion, another mental escape. everything hurt, so sharply - her breath remained shallow, but the freezing in her chest thawed. slowly, her shredded fingers began to feel the grass. it was damp, sharp in the dull way that grass is sharp. she felt clover. annette wasn’t sure it was real, but the sun was so warm. slowly, painfully, but surely, she rolled herself over, the sunlight shining in her tears. she closed her eyes again, breath deepening as much as it could. that was the sun, all right. she could hear the cars, passing by without a second thought, just like always. the house was never there, except that it was. she had its wood lodged into her hands. the sore cuts in her mouth, on her face, every injury confirmed it had been. but could she get herself home? her breath was still hollow, releasing more than it took. she knew the route. but could she trust it? she could walk through her door and enter that other house again. she could still be there.

              she must have been laying there for some time. time was moving normally again, minutes were minutes and seconds were seconds, but her head still swam in that house. no more, she thought. i have to go home. slowly, and with no shortage of painful gasps, she used her elbows to push herself to a seated position. her vision went spotty, cassie’s graveyard teeth and the funeral home wire floating in front of her once more. it cleared. another slow and painful lift, and she was on her feet. there was no gate in front of the lot. there never had been, the fence was barely holding itself together. she had been in trouble the moment she found herself on the other side of the fence. each step was staggering, and she limped her way back home, jumping and wincing at every passing car.

             she needed to know how long she had vanished for. it could have been hours; it could have been months. time is the hardest part with all of this, she knew that. time will take you and spin you and set you down just off from where you started, but have aged you by years.

              she noted the easter-themed flag across the way. april. it had been too long; she’d missed all of march. probably her mother’s birthday. standing on her own doorstep, she winced as she reached for the spare key. she unlocked the door and stepped inside, half-expecting either the rotted house or her mother’s stern shouts. it was clean. it was neither warm nor cold. her mother was not home. though she knew she would catch the devil later, she could only carry herself to the couch before collapsing on it, swiftly falling asleep.

               she would clean the couch later. she would tend her wounds later. a dreamless sleep was not too much of a luxury, was it? surely the james family would let her alone just long enough. surely, they were still dealing with the matriarch. she knew that upon waking, she would have to deal with hers. the very normal, very human dread of an angry mother was the last thing to cross her before she fell asleep, marking the couch with a dirt and blood impression of herself.

such a shame, that it would be the last dreamless sleep for some time to come.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Beneath an Aurora Sky ch. 20

Summary: The South Pole Station is equipped for research and Edge has always made sure things run smoothly for the inhabitants. His charges are meant to follow his rules and regulations, and in turn, he makes sure they survive in the arctic temperatures. It takes plenty of hard work and determination and Edge, along with his crew, can handle both.

He wasn’t counting on one of the newest researchers. He wasn’t expecting Rus.

Tags: Spicyhoney, First Time, Arctic AU, Hurt/Comfort

~~*~~

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve

Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17

Chapter 18 | Chapter 19

~~*~~

Read Chapter 20 on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

As Edge was walking towards the vehicle shed, he caught an acrid hint of cigarette smoke in the air. He followed it, not inside but around the back and sitting in the shadows of the halogen lights was Rus.

Edge could hardly disguise his approach, the crunch of his boots in the hard-packed snow would have carried in the still icy air long before he came around the corner. But Rus made no attempt to hide. He stayed where he was, a burning cigarette dangling from his gloved fingers as he gazed up at the aurora-filled sky.

He’d already been out here for some time while Edge and the others spoke with Toriel and Gaster. The cold would soon be seeping through his outdoor gear no matter how good it was, sinking its chill into Rus’s bones. Monsters felt the cold less than Humans did but they were by no means immune to it. They could be sickened, frostbitten, and some, like Alphys, tolerated it even less than Humans. As a skeleton, Rus’s endurance should match Edge and Red’s.

Then again, who knew the boundaries of a skeleton from an entirely other universe.

Edge sat down next to Rus, drawing up his knees to rest his arms on them. He looked up at the swirling aurora overhead, the blur of colors rippling together in tangled waves, a sky ocean born of solar particles colliding with the atmosphere.

“it’s so beautiful here.” Rus’s voice was almost too loud in the hush.

“Yes,” Edge agreed in a voice to match.

It was. His intention when they’d first arrived here was only to find a safe place for those in his care, Alphys and Undyne and his still-wounded brother, and later, for Bonnie. Somewhere they could be certain of their meals and shelter. Nothing more than a job to replace the one he lost with the guard and a feeble attempt at that.

He hadn’t expected to find beauty in the glacial whiteness, nor in the endless night sky. He never anticipated the satisfaction that came with seeing another group off, knowing he’d protected them and guided them through this dangerous beauty. He couldn’t have known how Undyne and Alphys would blossom here, both their love for each other and their lives, settling into their place. Or that Red would slowly find his own footing and perhaps he’d never adore the Humans that came here, but he had his own pride in his work, kept all the equipment in top form and helped Alphys in her designs for new additions for the station. And Bonnie, who’d come to them later and never discussed her own inner wounds, yet still seemed to be healing from them. Together they’d created a place of safety for them, a home.

Even after all that, he never could have braced himself for Rus. Who’d settle into their home like he belonged here, their missing puzzle piece. Only it seemed as if he’d come not from their picture, but an entirely different box.

“he told you, didn’t he.” It was impossible to tell if the fog of Rus’s breath was from the cold or the cigarette.

Edge said nothing. His promise to Toriel specified he couldn’t reveal what they’d spoken about. It did not preclude discussing it at all and he only waited as Rus chuckled bitterly, filling in the silence on his own.

“it’s funny,” Rus drawled, flicking ash into the snow, “i came all the way to the end of the world to escape my past and it still came after me.”

Edge thought of Toriel, currently cramped into one of the spare rooms and probably trying not to scrape her horns against the ceiling. “I know the feeling.”

“yeah, i know,” Rus said, grimacing, “i’m sorry. part of the deal of tori sponsoring me was i’d keep mum about back home. i promised.”

“I understand.”

“yeah, well, if i’d known they were gonna pop in unexpectedly, i would’ve warned you about that much, anyway.” Rus’s expression crumpled slightly, going brittle around the edges. “look, i love tori, she’s been nothing but good to me. moms her way into everything. but you guys got your reasons to not want her around, i get that.”

“Rus,” the cloud of his own breath briefly obscured his vision as Edge sighed, “even if they are here because of you, that doesn’t make it your fault.”

“doesn’t it? think what pissed me off most is i know dings is right,” Rus murmured. “he’s can be a little rough saying it, but he means well.”

The resignation in Rus’s voice made Edge bristle, “He accused you of being nothing more than a key made for a particular lock.”

“truth hurts.” It was startling to realize how he’d categorized Rus’s smiles in his own head, the bright, fake one and the softer, shyer truthful one that came with a measure of trust. This one was entirely new, tainted with deep bitterness, “bet big brother didn’t fill in the details, so let me give you the highlights of our family tree.”

“see, our pop was the royal scientist in our world, the real deal. i call him pop, but that’s mostly because it annoyed him. he wasn’t really our father, he was a dna donor. he didn’t even name us, we named ourselves.” Rus was sitting right next to Edge here in the deep cold and still seemed miles away, no, not miles, he was in another world entirely. “dings took his name. not like he really knew there were many options past that or just getting called number one. just as well, i guess, looks more like him than me or blue. dings named blue and they both named me.”

He slanted a glance at Edge, his bright eye lights dimmed behind his goggles. “dings was still really young when blue popped out, what did he know about names? baby bro’s magic was blue, so that’s what he went with. i came a few more years down the line and by then, they’d raided the librarby and found out that papyrus is a traditional skeleton monster name.” He chuckled then, some of the bitterness of his smile invading the sound. “like anything about us was traditional.”

“we were his own personal test tube babies, homegrown like fucking cabbages, and gaster made us to fulfill a specific role. see, the core was important work, sure, but what he was really trying to do was make a machine that could get us past the shield. turns out, third time is the charm for our old man. he made dings and blue first but neither of them could use void magic. i was his hail mary, his last shot, and whaddaya know, it worked.” Rus scowled, tamped out his burning butt into the snow. He dropped it into his little tin and lit another, inhaling deeply and breathing out a cloud of smoke. “he never let me forget what i was for, but dings and blue always tried to be the best brothers they could. after pops kacked, it wasn’t until dings got that machine working that it even came up again.” He shrugged, barely visible through the layers of his heavy coat. “i got to forget for a while, at least.”

Edge said nothing, what could he say? His childhood was hardly one ease and joy; it more resembled the fairy tales that Red sometimes read to him when he still the shorter of the two, listening with wide sockets to gruesome tales that seemed all too possible. It seemed Rus had his own experiences with a sort of wicked stepfather and it was every bit as terrible as those stories. The urge to pull him close, to keep him safe, was itching in Edge and he forcibly held it back, let Rus tell his story.

“i never expected the machine to actually work,” Rus admitted. “dings was messing with it for so long. then we were here. my bro was only supposed to talk to the royal scientist and we were gonna hightail it back. easy peasy lemon squeezy.” Rus chuckled darkly, “turned out the lemonade was too sour after all. dings was pretty upset to find out the guy he was looking for was gone and so was his successor.”

Rus’s smile eased into something warmer, familiar, “it was tori who got me to start studying, you know. my bros always kept me on a tight leash back home, it was dangerous to even go outside, but here? i went out, tried to make some friends, ended up sleeping around some. wasted time,” Rus admitted, “tori suggested i work on my degree. i didn’t see the point at first, our pop always told us our purpose. i was there to power the machine. but, tori has this thing about being everyone’s mom.”

“Indeed, she does,” Edge murmured, recalling his days imprisoned after the coup, with good meals and care instead of execution.

“i think maybe that’s why she’s such a good queen. she told me pops was wrong,” Rus laughed a little in a puff of smokey breath and shook his head. “told me he was an asshole, actually, and that i deserved to have what i wanted out of life.”

“we argued about it, me and dings. drove blue nuts. blue was…he was the failure, pops said. at least dings was a scientist, but blue couldn’t even manage that. dings always told him his purpose was to be our caretaker and he tried damn hard at it.” Rus sighed, dropping his head back against the shed siding with a muffled thunk, “he hates it when we fight.”

“But you did it,” Edge said softly, “you got your degree, you’re working on your PhD and you’re doing a good job of it, at that.” Even through the growing cold he felt an inner warmth at the smile Rus flashed him, the real one.

“i did. i got so close.” Rus’s voice broke slightly, “things were horrible when we left, i can’t even imagine how they are now. and dings, he needs to fix the core. that was the skill that was built into him.” His smile soured back into bitterness, “it’s a compulsion, i don’t think he can help it. he has to be better than our pop. he has to be the one to save us all. blue believes everyone is worth saving, but he’s a protector, and me? i’m just a battery. i was never meant to have any of this.”

A honey-tinted tear slipped out from beneath his goggles and wound its way down, slowly freezing against the chilled bone of Rus’s skull and Edge’s control broke. He crawled across the short distance between them, scuffled through the snow and pulled Rus into his arms. He held on briefly, achingly tight before drawing back far enough to shake him, a little, and Rus looked at him with wide, startled eye lights.

“You are more than simply your father’s intentions,” Edge told him fiercely. “You’re brilliant and kind, and…and funny…wonderful…” He choked, unable to express the wild emotions burning in his soul; if there were words for it, Edge did not know them. Love was too shallow a word, too small, it couldn’t possibly hold everything Edge was feeling, all of it strangled in grief.

Rus reached up and his gloved fingers were gentle against Edge’s cheekbone. “it’s okay,” he said, softly, “i always knew we’d have to go back. i got to see this. i got to be with you. it’s okay,” he said again, crooned it, as if Edge were the one in pain. Perhaps he was, his soul ached as fiercely as if it was threatening to crack. “i saw so much here on the surface. i got to see the stars, i got to come here and see this.” He looked up at the sky, at the brilliant colors still churning within it along with a million twinkling lights looking down on them. “i was never going to get to stay, but i got to see this.”

“It’s not enough,” Edge said hoarsely. Not enough, Rus was supposed to leave here and go back into the sun, and instead, he was going where Edge could never follow, couldn’t protect him, and again, Edge would have given a portion of his own grieving soul not to see that sadness infecting Rus’s smile.

“i love you, you know,” Rus told him, achingly soft. “i know it’s not fair to tell you now, but i can’t keep it to myself. i need you to know it.”

Edge closed his sockets, shutting out Rus’s face and the aurora, saw only blackness and it wasn’t the cold that sent a tremor through him. Then he opened them again, looked into Rus’s face and saw the truth of it, the yearning. And the hopelessness. The need to say it back burned, words already forming on his tongue, but instead Edge blurted, “Stay the two weeks.”

Rus blinked, startled. That was clearly not the reaction he expected to his quiet confession, “but, the people—"

“It’s been two years,” Edge countered, “two weeks means nothing to your world and everything to you. Don’t let your brother’s compulsion drive you. Toriel—"

He almost said she was on his side, couldn’t, his knowledge was gleaned from their talk and words already thickening in his throat, his promise threatening to choke him when Rus kissed him softly, stopping him.

“i can guess about tori,” Rus said quietly, then, softer, “two more weeks.” He looked up again and even behind his goggles, the auroras couldn’t match the soft beauty of his eye lights. “there’s no stars back home. i’m gonna miss them.”

He fell silent, leaning against Edge’s side. Edge wrapped an arm around him and pulled Rus in closer, holding him tightly through the layers of his coat. He was starting to shiver; they were both getting too cold and he was about to suggest they move into the vehicle shed at the very least when Rus spoke again.

“it got so bad towards the end,” Rus whispered, “we stayed holed up in the lab, mostly, but we could see what was happening. monsters were getting more violent, losing control, gaining lv. pops’ diagrams on the core were incomplete. it was dings’s idea to come to another world and check theirs. i had to come, of course and we couldn’t leave Blue alone, so we all came.”

Rus kicked one booted foot idly, scraping up snow with his heel. “s’weird. even the snow is different here. back home it seems…stale somehow. used. maybe it’ll be better when dings gets the core up and running.” Rus sighed. “i never would have come to the station if i’d thought he was close to a breakthrough. it’s weird, i thought i had enough time.” Rus drew back a little, looking at Edge with that soft smile back in place. “but it sure wasn’t a waste.”

Almost, Edge kissed him again, hesitated with their mouths a breath away. Something about what Rus said niggled, something… “Weird.”

“heh,” Rus chuckled, “it’s double weird hearing you say weird. doesn’t seem like your kind of slang, bossman.”

Edge barely heard him. His brother had a breakthrough on the core, Rus said, an unexpected breakthrough. Edge cursed himself, replaying what Rus told him. He'd been foolishly focused on the information about Rus and why they were here, not on what changed to bring them to the station.

"What was your brother studying, exactly?” Edge demanded. He took Rus’s shoulders in both gloved hands, holding him, “You said he was looking for information about the Core."

Rus blinked uncertainly, his browbone furrowing, “um, papers, mostly. tori has lots of stuff from the old royal scientist, dings was wading through tons of it. i didn’t see much, he didn’t want any help. he was afraid we’d miss something. guess he found what he was looking for.”

“Yes, I think he did,” Edge said sourly, “A patsy.” Edge climbed to his feet and held out a hand to help Rus, “I’d like to know what was in those notes your brother found and I think we should ask the former royal scientist.”

“what?” Rus wobbled for a second, catching his balance after sitting for so long, “seriously? you think they’d talk to you? tori said they don’t—

“I should hope so,” Edge said, dryly, “she’s in her lab.” And very likely watching them on her cameras.

Rus went still, croaking out, “alphys??”

“You didn’t know?” Edge slanted Rus a look, but he believed him.

“no!” Rus spluttered, already heading back towards the station, Edge trailing after him. “tori didn’t talk about it, i didn’t even think to ask anyone else, why would i?”

“Maybe your brother isn’t as discriminating,” Edge said, under his breath, letting the wind tear the words away. It was more than a little suspicious that his brother solved the issue of core technology when Rus was in the only place that possessed a replica of the original. Edge didn’t believe in coincidence.

“Rus,” Edge jogged to catch up, taking hold of Rus’s elbow to stop him as he asked, “Do you trust me?”

“yes,” Rus said, unhesitatingly.

“I trust you, too,” Edge said, softly, and leaned in to give him a brief, chilly kiss. “Come on. You’re freezing and I have questions.”

“you’re the boss,” Rus said. It was only a shadow of his normally teasing self, but it was something. He took Rus’s gloved hand in his own and together, they made their way to the main building.

tbc

[beyondtheciouds]

.20.

A dream. It was. Wasn't it?

Sweat trickles and tickles like the blood dripping down the handle of her axe. It pools into her lap, spreading across her nightgown like a slow disease.

Lucie's knees are drawn up to her chest; the nightgown ripped and torn at the collar and shoulders where hands were grabbing her. The gold locket clings to her skin and is smeared with crimson; the blood of thorns. The gold still hangs around her neck like a noose, tying her to this awful, awful world.

Her throat feels tight; the ghost of his hands strangling her even though he is dead. She can't speak, her actions are horrifying her practical side.

Lucie stands, unable to make sense of her unspoken crime. Her hair is knotted and she absently tugs on it, commanding herself to use logic.

Who did I kill? Lucie thinks, but can't remember. Her hand aches, the knuckles bone white and swelling beneath the veil of blood. Her chest heaves; deep breaths in, shallow exhales as her heart pounds in her ears. Panic. Blue eyes close and then open wide.

What happened?

Jesse's body is hazardly spread out on the ground like a broken doll. Pools of blood glisten like water beneath him in the solitary glimpse of the moon as it peaks out behind the trees. His arms and hands are covered in defensive wounds; cuts and scratches deep enough to introduce bone to the outside world. His bare torso is open to the insects, buzzing at her feet. A feast for the wildlife, his body deceased for the second time.

Tatiana appears like a puff of smoke. The woman claimes no remastered remorse as she slashes Lucie without warning.

Lucie tries to move forward out of her reach, but it is too late. Tatiana is already dragging her blade clean and clear across Lucie's side.

For a long, agonizing minute Lucie believes she is sobbing, not bleeding.

Double screams pierce the air as Lucie drops to the ground like a rock. She is quickly losing consciousness. Bright blood flows like water from the glistening gash in her right side and down her legs like its her monthly time.

Sickened with the shock and alive because of adrenaline, Lucie jolts awake. She drops her weapon and creeps on her hands and knees on the ground to get out of the smokey air.

The inferno around her is still burning.

Flesh tears on her knees and elbows split and scrape against the rockiness of the terrain. Lucie wants to stop, but she ignores the intense pain and keeps pulling herself until she is breathless.

Hiding behind a tree, out of Tatiana's sight, Lucie's hands cover the oozing wound on a secondary instinct. She rolls onto her back, blue eyes dazed, gazing into the smoke engulfed sky thinking of her mother.

Above her, the murder collects and calls themselves to order. The court settles unsettlingly in the crooked branches of the tilted trees.

Six. Six. Six.

Three branches. Three murders.

Lucie coughs, her breathing shallower. I am the first, she thinks as her eyelids get heavy and her breathing slows. Her blank eyes are staring at the winged spectators to her death. She desperately cries out for her brother in-between coughing fits.

Tatiana laughs wickedly in the distance and squares herself away in the shadows without glancing at the mutilated body of her son.

Beady eyes look conspiratorially at Lucie as she rolls onto her stomach. She drags herself forward, determined to find the real Jesse.

All Lucie can do is think of the blood moon as she stops, nearly dead in tracks. As if she has a tracking rune, her eyes catch movement in the shadows. Nate whirls, blue eyes discolored as he watches Lucie as she watches him. A square off.

Suddenly he vanishes in a cloud of incense singed smoke like a bad magic act.

Lucie can't move.

Frozen, she looses consciousness for the third time.

****

A damp cloth rubs the skin between her closed eyes; the unexpected gesture causing her mind to spin with shooting pain. Lucie struggles to stay connected, but it is only seconds before she blacks out, thinking of that black-haired boy on the ground again.

Matthew insistantly presses the damp cloth to her forehead; his hand careful and confident as it dabs her hot skin. His face is a hollowed place that is set up to dissuade polite conversation. His typical grassy green eyes are dark and unusually strained; the grimness in his wild irises apparent.

Matthew's work of art mouth is pressed into an intense line. Several bruises color the rose flush of his cheeks in a rainbow of yellow, purple and green.

Melancholy, Matthew sighs, his free hand on the bed beside her. His finger twitch and move; the light reflects off the numerous rings like shiny kisses. Casually, he glances at the robed figure standing beside the bedside. The Silent Brother's old, bleached hands have Lucie's hand in his. Two of his fingers are lightly pressed to the soft spot on the inside of her wrist.

Matthew frowns, wringing out the wrinkled cloth in the basin on the bedside table. The fire in the fireplace reflectes his mood; the flames shifting high to low like in a far away wind. He dips the cloth in another basin filled with warm water and looks over at Jem who is examining the deep slice on Lucie's side, just under her ribs. Mmm. Lucky.

"Will she be alright?" Matthew asks. He looks dubious as James draws another rune on Lucie's leg with his stele.

Cordelia glances around Matthew's messy bedroom in his flat. Clothes are strewn on chairs and on the floor. Poetry books and paintings were tossed in corners among other things. Dishes are piled like pillows on the numerous small tables and fabric chairs. "Maybe I should do that and you should clean up."

Matthew grunts his disapproval. He isn't moving.

Cordelia sighs, moving the to chaise lounge.

Lucie hears a murmur calling to her. The voice is shaking her. It is soft and sweet in nature but indecipherable in tone. The voice is familiar in her head, one she has known since before birth. Please Lucie. Wake up.

Her body is badly dehydrated and burned-out. Her limbs are limp like a doll's; held by both familar and unfamilar hands with their fingers stiff and cold like the dead.

Lucie's mind; troubled by weakness relents. Her subconscious has trapped all her thoughts in a cave unaccounted for in the space of time. Memories fall adrift like snowflakes against the thick, London fogged windows of the present.

What was yesterday is now today.

Tense shadows are tossing and turning all around her. Mistakes cloud her vision closely behind the lids of her eyes.

The heat of a hot stele burning runes into her flesh briefly awakens her; the scent of leathery licorice drowning the stench of burnt flesh.

James frowns and sits back. He glances at Jem expectant of a prognosis. Lucie doesn't open her eyes or move. "Uncle Jem?"

We are not involved anymore than we already are, James. Jem says, his voice stern. The other Silent Brother doesn't agree or disagree.

Familiar voices invade the room; chaos amid peace like unwanted visitors. Sleep controls her body and the lullaby of bleak conversation threatens to lull her sleep.

A jumble of sounds that make no sense briefly shifts her attention to the bed, where Matthew sits beside her. Something to focus on, to stay awake. To listen. Pay attention Lucie.

Lucie absently tugs the sheets. She knows without looking they are Egyptian cotton; the color sunset crimson. Made soft as silk and 600 thread count fine.

The warm blankets go against her and soothe her like a secret skin; aloe against her battered body. Despite her efforts, Lucie falls into a deep sleep.

Anna sighs, her expression sad as she sips her cup of gin. Her blue eyes are like thick glass as she watches Kit over the rim. He is pacing unsteadily back and forth, clearly drunk.

Anna stares at him with the context of concern on her face only an older sister is able to have. "I so do not appreciate being the oldest one."

Kit stops and turns to his sister. A lopsided grin expands his mouth. "But that makes you the wisest."

Anna rolls her eyes and Kit resumes pacing.

Thomas frowns at Anna, his expression pensive as he asks the question on everyone's mind.

"What should we do?"