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mymegumi · 3 years

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SUNRISE OVER TOKYO

pairing: kuroo tetsuro x gn!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 5.3k words

warnings: nekomata!reader, minor character death and post timeskip

summary: as nekomata’s only grandchild, you’d always felt indebted to him in a way and found time to meet him almost everyday. through the years, you’d heard all the stories he’d wanted to tell of his favorite volleyball team and his travails as a younger man. by chance, you meet the captain of his glory day team who’s everything you didn’t know that you needed.

note: thank you to cass ( @misutv ) for the plot and for basically the whole idea, you’re a real one and ik daddy shemar would be proud of you

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The morning air was crisp, and there were still drops of dew hanging onto the blades of grass in the sitting area of the retirement home. The sun had barely risen over the horizon, and yet the sky was already vibrantly cerulean, pale white clouds blotting out the golden rays.

“It’s lovely out today,” you murmured softly, as if speaking any louder would disturb the calm of the early morning, “I’m glad you convinced me to take you out.”

“Of course!” Your grandfather, unlike yourself, had a booming voice, one he’d used to carve his presence into the minds of everyone around him. His smile was infectious and warm, like the feeling of drinking a cup of hot chocolate on a chilling winter day. “I’m not sure how often you’re let out of your little office to soak up the rays; people forget how often we are like plants, needing the warm summer sun to help us grow and expand into our fullest potentials.”

You loved your grandpa, you really did. He had been the one who had raised you when your parents passed away, taken too soon from you and yet never failing to make sure you had everything you needed in life. Even despite all of the hardships, like money and worrying about your education, he had made sure you always felt the love that children had gotten from their parents.

He tended to ramble a lot, though, and sometimes you just didn’t listen to him all the way. He was, as many old people were, a talker and you were sure that he could chat with you all day if you let him.

“Mhm,” you gripped the handles of his wheelchair a bit harder, pushing him along the pathway of the retirement home, concrete underneath your shoes hard, “they don’t really let us take breaks and take in the air.”

He tutted, tongue hitting the roof of his mouth in annoyance when you said it, and the action of it had you rolling your eyes because you knew he couldn’t see you from where you were standing. “It’s just like corporations these days to be preventing our youth from going outside. When my volleyball team was at its peak, we spent every summer day in the gym with the doors open and the breeze flitting through like a dancer.”

This was usually where you started to tune back into what he was saying, hoping that you could catch glimpses of his self-proclaimed glory days. The volleyball team had been his pride and joy when he was still coaching high schoolers, kids who worked their butts off to get to the national stage and play their rivals.

“Tell me about the team again, grandpa,” you requested, holding the door open to the retirement home as another pair of people left. He gave you a glance over his shoulder, eyes bright with amusement as you flushed, feeling the heat crawl along the nape of your neck.

“Anything for you, sweet one.”

Yasufumi was always kind to your requests, taking each one in step despite the embarrassment they seemed to bring you. You had been at Nekoma when the golden era of his volleyball team was still in action, but you had been going through a rebellious phase, often trying to turn away from the interests and endeavors of your older guardian.

It had only been when he retired from coaching and you had entered into the workforce that you truly had begun to listen to his words of wisdom, each one carried in your heart to serve as a lesson or a purpose for the things you did everyday. He only ever told you those stories when you asked for them—to pull out the fact that you enjoyed listening to him talk about volleyball, or to embarrass you over the fact that you had missed out on meeting many of the young men he was talking about, you wouldn’t know. Instead, he would talk about things that had happened at the retirement center, each one more confusing than the last and the list of unbelievable things that happened never ending.

Yasufumi watched you settle into the chair nearest to one of the windows, shifting uncomfortably in the small wooden chair that the retirement home gave to visitors in the common area, which was now a bit busier since it was later in the morning. People were walking around and talking amongst each other, and somewhere in the distance, you saw a pair of people playing chess at one of the tables outside.

“When the third years were just first years,” he starts, hands folded over themselves and sitting in his lap, “they argued almost constantly. The youngest of the bunch seemed to have a grudge against the shortest of the group that had lasted until they hit my gym floor; listening to them argue was just about the only other noise you’d hear in the gym besides the oldest of the group trying to mediate them.”

Yasufumi leaned back a bit in his wheelchair, joints in his leg creaking and moaning as he adjusted himself. His legs weren’t completely gone, but it was bad enough that you had sought out a doctor to prescribe him a wheelchair.

“Those boys were at each other’s throats for as long as I can remember, and it’s honestly a surprise that they had ended up working out their differences long enough to make anything of themselves.” His smile was filled with warmth and reminded you of your youth with him, every day filled with laughter. “My fondest memories of the team was during their third year, and they put in the best work during that era.”

Your grandfather’s face talking of this era brought feelings of melancholy for you, filled with a regret that you had missed out on his favorite remembrance of high school. If you had only been less filled with a need to rebel and push away, not knowing the value of being by his side until it was almost too late.

He talked to you for hours, retelling the stories of his volleyball team and the things that they had endured when they finally ended up going to nationals to meet their rivals for the first time in what had seemed like years. When you watched him talk, your heart clenched tightly in your chest the way his face portrayed the emotions of an insufferably saccharine past, as if he knew that his age was finally catching up to him.

In your own self loathing, you wished you had met the men that had shaped your grandfather’s glory days and that you had put in more of an effort to become friends with them because they seemed like people that you could have been friends with. You knew that Yasufumi would have appreciated seeing more than just you at the retirement home, but you didn’t have any contact information for you to reach out and see if they would like to come visit.

You had a feeling they would, though, because bonds forged through the trials of sports seemed to run deeper than any others. Giving your grandfather a brief goodbye, you tucked the visit into the part of your heart that each visit went into, for safekeeping on days you wouldn’t be able to see him again.

The next time you visited Nekomata Yasufumi, you were mildly surprised when the receptionist told you that there were already a group of three young men visiting him out in the recreation area. When you signed your name, the three signatures above yours were in a messy scrawl of young adults that were still adjusting to having to sign their name on legal documents; Nobuyuki Kai, Yaku Morisuke and Kuroo Tetsuro.

Despite being prepared for more people when you enter into the common area, you were taken aback by the sheer noise that was coming from the group gathered nearest to your grandfather—a group that was laughing happily over something you couldn’t understand while the tallest of them had a volleyball tucked underneath his arm.

“Oh! There’s the fifth of our group.” Your grandpa called out to you after he spotted you walking in, bag set on one of the hooks at the front for coats and bags. His smile was infectious and before you knew it, there was a smile spreading across your lips. “Let’s move outside, now, we can do introductions on the lawn.”

Your laughter was soft as you made your way to your grandfather’s wheelchair, hands reaching for the grips out of instinct before the tallest of the group, someone you vaguely remember from high school since his hair was so distinguishable, stopped you.

He looked at you with an air of lightness around him, as if he were carefree. “Hey, I got it.”

“Thanks.” You nodded your head to him, lips pulling into a slight smile as you walked around to your grandfather’s side, giving the taller man—whose hair was absolutely atrocious—one last curious glance.

“Kuroo,” your grandfather’s tone was chiding, “you didn’t even introduce yourself.”

“You said we were doing introductions on the lawn!” The man’s tone was light and joking, looking down at the older man before lightly patting down on his shoulder, “I know you’re old, but your memory isn’t going, now is it?”

“You wish it was,” Yasufumi retorted with an eyeroll, arms crossing over his chest, “that way I’d forget about that time you’d flubbed a receive you had claimed would be so easy to get.”

Kuroo, as you had just recently learned was his name, made a noise of distress that landed somewhere in the back of his throat, face twisted in distaste with blotches of pink dusting across his cheekbones and bridge of his nose. “I thought you had forgotten about that, that was so long ago!”

“I’d never forget things that embarrass you,” he joked breezily, wrinkly hand reaching up to grab your hand in his, “because you were insufferable in high school!”

Kuroo turned to you, then, making sure you were looking at him before dipping his head low in a simple greeting. His hair fell a bit, ends drooping and covering up more of his eyes from your gaze. “I’m Kuroo Tetsuro. It’s lovely to meet you, Mx. Nekomata.”

“Ah,” you started, hand coming up to wave him off as you felt a rush of heat crawl along the back of your neck at his sudden attention, “my name actually isn’t Nekomata. My mother took her husband’s last name.”

You gave him your name, body heating up just a bit too much when he repeated it—you loved the way his mouth rolled over the vowels and consonants of your name. When you gave him a nod of confirmation after he got it right, the grin he gave you back was almost blinding.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you!”

Now on the front lawn and standing just in front of the pair of other men that were talking amongst themselves, you bowed quickly after offering the both of them your name. Mixed between their smiles and the contagious energy that was Yaku and Kuroo, the energy was nowhere near as awkward as you had feared upon meeting your grandfather’s golden era third years.

Before you know it, the four of you were coerced into playing a few rounds of volleyball—nothing serious and almost incredibly competitive.

Paired together with Kuroo, the man was heartwarmingly kind in a way that you hadn’t been expecting from a man of his nature. In the few interactions you had had with him, you had expected more teasing, almost like you were expecting to have been poked and prodded until he figured out the way your cogs turned. In a nice turn of events, he was simply just the type of man that liked to provoke his friends to get them out of a funk if they were to experience any sort of failure; as often Kuroo would make some sort of misconstrued comment about Nobuyuki if he missed an easy to block to spike.

In between lifting the mood should it turn sour, Kuroo was also effortlessly teaching you the sport you’d avoided all throughout your youth. In avoiding your caretaker, you’d also managed to put learning volleyball on the back burner of things you wanted to do in high school and you’d never learned a lick of it.

Yaku was shouting encouraging words from across the way to you, but after a few minutes you’d ended up tapping out for a quick break. Nobuyuki had offered to step out too, and that left the blond to play a game of volley with Kuroo, the two bantering off handedly while your grandfather was laughing.

It wasn’t often that you saw his expression as bright as you did then, as you were often only met with a sage face when he told you anecdotes to not waste away your early years. There was something in your chest that ached seeing his expression so freely filled with joy, since you knew that some days he wasn’t even capable of getting to his wheelchair. Those days seemed to be making more frequent appearances as of late.

Pushing that thought to the back of your mind, instead you called out to the pair of boys that you wanted to go back to playing a two-on-two. At Nobuyuki’s protests, you had teased him that he would be beat out by a person who didn’t even exercise regularly, which had brought out a whole other slew of arguments. It took your grandfather’s chiding to get the mini game back on track again.

With Kuroo as your teammate, and your grandfather barking out orders to you that you took with a grain of salt, you were only marginally better at the sport by the end of their visit.

Yaku and Nobuyuki had left only minutes earlier, both giving you their well wishes and offering to come visit Yasufumi again when they got the chance. He had only waved them off, telling them to get a significant other before coming back to him.

Kuroo had ended up staying for a bit longer, citing that the game had winded him more now that he was no longer playing volleyball, instead working for the entire association as a whole. You just barely missed the nod of approval your grandpa gave him at his career choice, as if giving him approval for something else.

The three of you had settled into a trio of seats in the common area. By now, most of the people that were visiting loved ones had continued on, leaving the space almost empty. That was in your favor, however, as it meant your grandfather could establish a little spot for himself by one of the love seats, meaning you’d been at Kuroo’s side while the two of them reminisced of days of old.

The stories they swapped with each other ranged from Kuroo’s earliest volleyball days, to Yasufumi’s days playing against Karasuno’s now departed oldest coach. The thought had soured the mood, and despite Kuroo’s best efforts to return it back to normal, your grandfather had instead insisted that the pair of you go back to your normal lives, as opposed to entertaining an old man’s memories. It had been a clear time for the two of you to leave, which found you both walking to the parking lot.

“Do you often visit your grandfather?” Kuroo had his hands intertwined behind his back, walking casually as he glanced at you.

You nodded, looking back at him with a warmth somewhere in your chest developing. “Yeah, as often as I can. I’m usually here when I have days off, since I’m the only grandkid he had.”

Coughing into his hand, he spun his keyring around his finger as he started to slow his pace to match yours. You had a feeling he didn’t want to leave your side yet, and just the thought made you smile to yourself.

“You were really good with him, do you have a good relationship with your grandparents?”

Kuroo laughed, a loud one that came from the deep parts of his chest, like you had just told one of the funniest jokes he had ever heard. “Oh, you don’t know the half of it. I had a pretty shitty relationship with my parents, so my grandparents practically raised me. You learn how to deal with older people after a while, and Coach Nekomata had always been like a father figure to me growing up.”

“I get that,” you admitted, turning your head to try and remember where you had parked your car, “it’s hard, sometimes. I love my grandpa, though, and I don’t think I’d trade this experience for anything.”

Kuroo’s smile held a note of forbearance, as if he wanted to tell you something but bit his tongue at the last second. Instead of questioning it, as you normally would if you had more confidence, you just hit the unlock button on your car keys—the car just next to the two of you lighting up and beeping happily.

“This must be you.” He rubbed a hand over the nape of his neck anxiously, and you could have sworn he had something else to say. Instead, you got, “I’ll see you later then, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Nodding your head, you watched him walk further into the parking lot, head shaking slightly.

You had some sort of intuition that wouldn’t be the last you’d see of him, and on your third visit to see your grandfather after the Nekoma third years visited, your premonition of another meeting had been granted.

Signing your name into the guest book, you recognized Kuroo’s looping scrawl a few lines above where you were going to sign. Seeing it in there, you unconsciously straightened your back up a bit, shoulders pushing back to adjust your posture into something a bit more sightly. The receptionist just gave you a warm smile that made the tips of your ears burn.

With that bit of forewarning, walking into the common area to see your grandfather talking to Kuroo wasn’t a surprise.

“Darling!” Your grandfather’s voice rose above the din of the common area, his normal booming voice all you can hear adverse to the polite chatter of others in the general vicinity. A few heads turned to look at him, but his beaming face is enough to have them turning back to their own conversations without a second thought.

“Hey, funny running into you here.” Kuroo patted the seat cushion closest to him on the couch when you arrived, and you gave him a quick nod as thanks. “I was just telling him about the time a friend of mine tried to convince me to sell him a stock in the volleyball association just because he wanted to say he owned volleyball in Japan.”

“It sounds like you’ve got interesting friends,” your murmured, eyes scaling across the slants of his face and down the slope of his nose—you were trying your best to avoid looking at his hair and be seen as rude, “was it one of the ones that was here the last time you were here?”

He shook his head, and it was almost instinct the way your eyes drew to his hair, which seemed to be moving on a mind of its own. You’re pretty sure your grandpa was laughing at the way you were watching, but you weren’t one hundred percent sure. “Nah, those guys are actually sane, it’s a friend named Kenma. He’s a year younger than me, but he’s made a pretty good name for himself.”

Conversation between the three of you flowed easily, since if Kuroo ran out of things to say, your grandfather would find an anecdote to throw around that would cause Kuroo to think of something his own grandparents would try and tell him, before it would end up a battle of philosophies from two different families. Kuroo often lost those discussions, however, because you were Yasufumi’s kin and there wasn’t a battle you wouldn’t fight for him.

The day seemed to pass in almost slow motion, each conversation longer and filled with laughter. There was something about the fact that Kuroo could handle your grandfather so well that sat well with you, and it helped that Yasufumi had already liked Kuroo to begin with that made you unreasonably happy.

You thought, somewhat briefly at one point when your grandfather is laughing at a dumb joke that Kuroo made about the state of taxes in Japan, that you wouldn’t mind seeing more of this man.

“I really enjoyed seeing you,” Kuroo divulged to you later on when your grandfather had had his fill of interacting with people for the day, “and Coach Nekomata, of course.”

The way he added on the second part of the conversation made heat crawl across your face, and the meaning of his words seemed to dawn on Kuroo, as well, if the deep pink flush that creeped along the tips of his ears and at the sides of his neck are any indication. There was a deep satisfaction of making a grown man blush so hard that settled along you, and it made you more confident than you normally were.

“Well, I think that seeing you there was a nice surprise,” you commented, looking at him with what you hoped was a sincere expression painted on your features, “and I definitely won’t mind if it were to happen more often.”

That was the right thing to say, you decided as you watched a bright beam spread across Kuroo’s lips, the corners of his eyes crinkling at the statement. “Of course, I’ll make sure to stop by more frequently. Maybe I could get your number, so we can coordinate our visits?”

You pulled out your phone to exchange numbers with him, and as he entered his number into your phone, and subsequently called himself from your phone, you just took a minute to admire him.

You’ve only met him a few times, but from what you could tell, he wasn’t a bad guy. Sure his hair was a bit on the obscure side, but you had dated far worse guys than that. He seemed to be a family oriented man, if his relationship with his grandparents and older sisters were any indication from the stories he told you and your own grandfather. He worked as a representative of the Japanese Volleyball Association, so that meant he had put in the work to get where he was and had an eye for things that others might have overlooked.

You saw yourself falling for him very easily, and watching his retreating figure wave to you as he walked to his car, you realized that maybe you already were.

Nekomata Yasufumi passed away on a cool Tuesday evening in the middle of summer.

From what the nurses had told you, he had passed painlessly in his sleep, without so much as a warning that his health was declining to this point. You were just grateful that it wasn’t long, because the thought of him suffering was worse than any hardship you had faced thus far in life.

Your friends had called you and texted you, asking you were okay and if there was anything they could do for you, and yet, there wasn’t a thing that their words said to you that could soothe the ache in your heart. Yasufumi was the only person in your life that had been there steadily, and now that he’s gone, you were a bit lost in where you were meant to go next.

The only person that you had even allowed by your side throughout the entire process of the funeral was Kuroo.

After the day you had exchanged numbers, the two of you texted often—about your grandfather, about his grandparents, and sometimes just about whatever he had seen that had reminded him of you. You weren’t anything more than friends, but you liked to think that Kuroo was just taking it slow, trying to court you like you were something to be valued, rather than doing it in a more modern way.

When he heard that Yasufumi had passed away, he had been a bit distraught at the news. In what would usually be near nightly texts, you had gotten radio silence for a good few days.

You understood, though, because this was another father figure to him, and you didn’t hold his silent treatment against him. When he texted you a few days before the funeral, asking if he could drive you there and stand with you, you agreed almost immediately.

“Nekomata Yasufumi was one of the most carefree men I had ever had the pleasure of meeting,” he read from a paper in his hands, shaking slightly at the top because of the wind, and perhaps a bit because of the shake in his hands, “and he brought joy wherever he went. Working with him, and working as one of his athletes had been one of the most amazing moments in my life. I wouldn’t have traded that experience for anything in the world.”

There were a few more people that shared their stories of your grandfather before they buried his casket, each one tearfilled and sentimental in their own rights. There was a deep pain in your chest that dulls a bit more with each joyful memory that others had of the only man in your life for so long.

Kuroo stood by your side throughout the entire process, an arm wrapped around you protectively, and you could feel the warmth of his hand on your upper bicep. When you felt as if the whole situation was too much, and that the tears that you had been shedding throughout the week would make an appearance in front of all these people, you just looked at Kuroo. He offered you a gentle smile each time, a sea of emotions swimming hazel eyes that you understood more than anyone.

After the ceremony, no one faulted you for leaving early.

“I’m sorry.”

Blinking at him, you tilted your head to the side as you wiped at your salt-stained cheeks. “Why? He passed painlessly, and I think he’d be having fun wherever he ended up.”

“I know,” Kuroo amended, chin tilted down towards his chest so you can’t see his expression, “but I’m just sorry that he was the last of your family.”

You made a noise, a bit of a hum and just a noise to let him know that you had heard him. You thought about it for a minute, hands pressed firmly in flat fists, fingers digging crescents into your palms to avoid crying again at the mention of it. You didn’t want to be sad, because you liked to think that your grandfather was somewhere playing volleyball with the coach of Karasuno again, as they should be.

“I think that, I think that I’m going to miss him,” you had started, drawing Kuroo’s attention to you, “but also, I know that I’ll never be alone, because he’s always with me.”

Kuroo chuckled a bit at that. “Yeah, definitely. He cared for you a lot, that’s for sure.”

When the man at your side rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, you inquired softly about what was on his mind. He sighed lightly, leaning a shoulder against the wall the two of you were standing by.

“He had even given me advice on how to ask you out,” he looked away from you, but still you could see the bits of red spreading across the tops of his ears, “and he kept telling me I was waiting too long to ask you out, and that you would get snatched up before I could get a chance. But I just wanted to do it a bit slower.”

“I get it,” you smiled up at him, “but if you asked me out now, I’d say yes.”

“Oh.” Kuroo’s face erupted in a gorgeous shade of rosy pink. “Well, I was going to wait. I thought it might be inappropriate to ask you at Nekomata’s funeral.”

“Mm, well,” you mused, hand reaching towards his, “I get the feeling, he’d just be happy we got together at all.”

Kuroo met you halfway, his hand enveloping yours in a firm grasp. Despite the hole in your life that was oddly Nekomata Yasufumi sized, you thought that maybe there’d be someone who could patch over the wounds that were developing.

“Do you want some time alone?” You looked up at Kuroo with a blink, hand curled in his warmth. “I don’t mind, I can go sit in the car for a bit.”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t really have anything to say to him that I can’t say in front of you.”

He leaned down, knee pressing against soft soil with a hand tracing along the stone of a gravestone, Nekomata Yasufumi written in elegant script with the year he was born and the year he passed on it.

“Hey, Coach,” he started, thumb brushing against the granite in smooth, slow strokes, “we just wanted to let you know about how life has been going.”

You crouched down, the side of your thigh pressed against the denim of his jeans. “Gramps, we, uh, we visited Mori and Lev in Russia for a couple of days, which was really lovely.”

The elder of the two was seemingly more successful, despite the modeling career Lev had gotten with his sister. He was doing what he loved in a foreign country, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been a bit impressed when he had ordered for you and Kuroo at a restaurant in fluent Russian.

Lev was in the process of learning his third language, English, and had tried to show off in front of the two of you. Morisuke had laughed at him mercilessly, and corrected him in anything that he had gotten wrong, showing off another hidden talent the former libero had kept tucked away.

“The best part of the trip, though,” Kuroo knocked the side of his head against yours gently, in what was nothing more than a love tap, “was putting a ring on their finger.”

He pulled over the hands that were intertwined with yours, tugging the fingers down to show off the golden band adorning your ring finger that rested snugly. After showing it off, the sunlight reflecting off of it in straight lines, Kuroo ghosted his lips over the engagement band he had presented to you.

“We’re gonna keep a seat open for you,” you murmured, reaching out to trace your hand along the engravings of your grandfather’s name, “and I know you’re gonna watch us with a stupid story about Tetsuro that’ll have everyone laughing wherever you ended up.”

Kuroo pulled you closer with an arm winding around your shoulders, lips resting against the crown of your head as you pressed a palm against your chest. Despite the fact that the loss of your grandfather had opened a cavity in your chest, with each passing day the ache seemed to dull just a bit more. You didn’t think it would ever go away fully, but just carrying it with you would mean that it would become bearable.

Kuroo stood without another word, hand resting on your head and shaking a bit to mess up your hair. Before you had come in, you had already agreed that you would get a few minutes alone with your grandfather, and you appreciated the fact that Kuroo understood.

It was early in the morning. The morning dew was clinging to the green blades that curved and bent underneath every step that your fiancé took, each one a soothing contrast to the sun that was peeking up over the Japanese horizon. As the clouds floated through the sky, you sat and talked with your grandfather of all the things that he had missed in the last few months that you had been unable to visit him—your lover, and his former protégé, waiting for you in your car.

t.list :: @nekomabvc @shadowkunoichi @duhsies @iwaizoom @hikariakaashi @kyotarou

#hqcorenet #hanimehub #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsuro x y/n #kuroo tetsurou x y/n #kuroo tetsurou x you #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsuro fluff #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #kuroo x y/n #kuroo x you #haikyuu!! kuroo #grind for the wealth

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thatfanficstuff · 3 years

Text

Asshole - Elijah Mikaelson

Pairing: Elijah x Reader

Warnings: Bullying, Assholes, Flangst

A/N: I’m gonna let y’all in on a little secret. When I can’t/don’t write for a long time, I find it incredibly hard to start writing regularly again. Part of me feels like I am incapable and the rest fears I am. Anyway, this took much longer than it should have. I hope you enjoy!

***

You sat at a table at the back of the Grill enjoying your own company and a well-aged Scotch. Well, as aged as it got at the Mystic Grill. You were supposed to have been spending your evening with Klaus and Kol but they’d opted out to take care of some business. Kol had sounded so sincere in his disappointment you couldn’t be mad at them.

After some indecision, you came to the Grill on your own. It had been a long week and you’d been looking forward to getting out of the house. You’d already eaten dinner and decided to have a couple of drinks before you walked home. Or maybe more than a couple since you were already on number three.

Your gaze jerked up from the glass in your hand when someone slid into the chair across from you. Seeing Damon, you started to smile before remembering he was no longer your friend. And as much as you didn’t want to let that bother you, it stung. The two of you had been near inseparable until you saved Kol from the mechanizations of the Scooby gang.

You’d chosen your side. It didn’t matter that killing Kol would have ended the lives of who knows how many vampires. Apparently slaughtering innocent people was only bad when the Mikaelsons did it. None of your friends would even attempt to see it your way. They’d cast you out and the Originals had taken you in. You tried not to be bitter about it. You even succeeded most of the time. Until moments like this anyway.

You clenched your teeth together and willed the tears that threatened to fill your eyes to fuck off. “Is there something you needed, Damon?”

Damon clicked his tongue before giving you a little smirk. “So testy. Can’t I just say hi to an old friend?”

“You can do whatever you want, but let’s not pretend that these aren’t the first words you’ve said to me in months. Whatever we are, we’re not friends. Not anymore.” And god you wished that didn’t hurt as much as it did.

He made a show of looking around the room. “I just noticed that you were alone. Not a Mikaelson in sight. Thought I’d check to see if you’ve finally come to your senses?”

You swallowed what was left of your drink in answer. Anything else you said would only lead to a repeat of the same argument you’d had a hundred times.

He tapped his fingers on the table. “I’ll take that as a no.” After a moment of silence, he pursed his lips and leaned forward. “Or perhaps they’ve learned that your loyalty is a fickle thing and they’ve kicked you out of their little family.”

“Fuck you, Damon.” You wished you hadn’t finished your drink so you could throw it in his face. “I wasn’t the disloyal one. All of you turned your back on me because I saved someone’s life.”

“Not just someone. Kol fucking Mikaelson. You knew it was a betrayal before you even did it. How were we supposed to overlook that? To ever trust you again?”

“Honestly, I thought you’d all lost your ever-loving minds. Why would any of you think it was okay to not only kill Kol but everyone that would go with him?”

“It was to save Elena.” Damon all but hissed the words.

“No. It was to make her human again. Big difference.” You leaned back with a frown and signaled for another drink. “You know, for someone that claims to love a vampire, she certainly has a deep-seated hatred for them.”

Damon’s gaze moved over you as though he were looking for something. It wasn’t until your drink was delivered that he spoke again. “They don’t care about you, you know. They never did. Getting you on their side just another way to get under our skin.”

You sipped at your drink as you looked him over. If he only knew the number of times you had convinced Klaus not to kill one of them. The number of times you’d redirected the hybrid’s rage or Kol’s anger. Then again, maybe he wouldn’t care at all. “I’m not a tool, Damon. I’d know if they were using me.”

His ever-present smirk faded as his eyes turned cold. “Would you? You believed everything I told you readily enough. Of course, you were so lonely you would have believed most anything, wouldn’t you? Anything to have a friend. Somewhere to go where you weren’t alone.”

You clenched your teeth tightly and refused to meet his gaze as he threw confessions made over late night glasses of Scotch back at you. “Were you never my friend then?” You hated yourself for asking the question. Even more for the way your voice broke as you did.

He tilted his head. “Oh sweetheart, why would I have been?”

And with that, he was gone. So nice of him to stop by. You downed what was left of your drink and signaled for another.

By the time you determined no amount of alcohol was going to erase Damon’s words from your brain, you were well and truly drunk. When the waitress came by to check on you, you ordered a glass of water and pulled out your phone.

You tapped your finger against the back of it as you thought. Going home to your empty house meant wallowing in self-pity until you passed out and then probably doing the same thing when you woke. Kol or Klaus were always your first call at moments like this, but you had no idea what kind of business they had to do and didn’t want to interrupt if it was something important. The last thing you needed was for them to be angry with you as well. Rebekah was out of town.

That left Elijah. You weren’t as close to him as the others through no fault of his. No, he’d gone out of his way to make you feel welcome, to extend the hand of friendship. But you were painfully shy when he was around. If there was one thing in life that could be counted on, it was the fact that you would be incredibly awkward around anyone you felt the slightest interest in. Poor Elijah probably thought you hated him. Klaus however thought the way you clammed up in his brother’s presence was hilarious.

Maybe that was the only reason they kept you around. Because you entertained them. At this point, did it really matter? Even if they didn’t need you, you needed them. Without the Mikaelsons you would be completely, utterly alone. Maybe you should start thinking about moving on. You could just start over somewhere else. Preferably somewhere with no supernatural drama. That would be fantastic.

After giving it another moment’s thought, you pressed the screen and called Elijah.

He answered on the second ring. “Y/N. Lovely to hear from you. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Tears flooded your eyes at the warmth in his voice and a lump formed in your throat. “I’m sorry to bother you, Elijah. I just…” You trailed off and sucked in a deep breath to keep from crying.

“Is everything all right?”

You cleared your throat. “Not really, no. Could you come pick me up at the Grill?”

“Of course.”

You hung up and slid your phone back into your pocket. After pushing yourself to your feet, you stood still for a moment to get your bearings. When you glanced toward the bar to signal for your check, your gaze met Damon’s. He smirked as he ran his eyes over you and saluted you with his glass, clearly knowing he was the reason for your current state. Deciding to wait for Elijah outside, you tossed enough money on the table to take care of your ticket and a generous tip.

The cool air bit at your skin as you stepped outside. You moved to the end of the building and leaned against the wall. You tilted your head back to lean against the brick. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath of the crisp air to sober yourself up a bit and drive back the tears.

“It’s not safe for you to be out here by yourself, Y/N. You never know who might wander by.” Damon’s voice cut through you but you maintained your position.

“Why are you doing this?” Relief flooded you when your voice didn’t break. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. “Just leave me alone.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

The only response that came to mind was telling him to fuck off so you kept your mouth shut and ignored him. Or you tried to at any rate.

A firm hand grabbed your chin and tilted your head down. The pressure he applied was enough to send a jolt of pain through your jaw. Your eyes shot open at the violation. “Don’t ignore me.”

You jerked your head to the side and he released you. “Don’t touch me.” At least the anger chased away the tears.

He placed his hands on either side of your head and leaned in until barely a breath separated you. You pushed against him though it did no good. You knew it wouldn’t but you couldn’t just stand there and let him do whatever he wanted. “Get away from me, Damon.”

“Why should I? You like vampires, don’t you, Y/N?”

Your eyes darted up to meet his and you realized that your comments about Elena had bothered him just as much as his words hurt you. Good. Asshole. “I like some vampires. I’m not particularly fond of you at the moment.”

He snarled and shoved himself off the wall putting some much needed space between the two of you. “You think you’re better than me? You’re nothing. Less than nothing. The only attention you received from me was pity.” Every word he threw at you struck like a physical blow. And the smile that crossed his face told you he was very much aware of it. But he wasn’t finished yet. “I pitied you, took you in and you repaid me by siding with the Mikaelsons. God only knows what they’re still keeping you around for but when they finish with you—after they’ve taken whatever it is they want from you—don’t come crying to us. Frankly, I’m glad to be rid of you. We all are.”

Hot tears began to leak down your cheeks and you wanted nothing more than to escape. Before you could run away or even think of another response, Damon was slammed face first into the wall beside you. You jumped away in response, relaxing when you saw it was Elijah holding him there. He had Damon’s arm twisted behind his back and kept him pressed to the wall with a hand between his shoulder blades.

“Get off me,” Damon demanded as he struggled to free himself.

Elijah ignored him, placing all of his attention on you. “Are you all right?”

You swallowed past the lump in your throat. “I’m not injured if that’s what you mean. He was just being an asshole.”

He hummed as he arched a brow. “Yes, well, it is Damon.”

The corner of your mouth kicked up and you wiped the tears from your cheeks. Elijah stepped back, pulling Damon away from the wall in the process though he still didn’t release him. “In the future, it would be wise for you to leave Y/N alone. The next time we have this conversation won’t end as pleasantly for you.” Only then did he let him go and Damon was gone in the blink of an eye.

Elijah placed his hand on your back to direct you to his car parked a short distance away. It wasn’t until he’d started to drive that either of you said anything.

“Would you mind just driving around for a while? If it’s not too much of a bother I mean.”

The silence stretched but you resisted the urge to look at him. Fresh tears were running down your cheeks and you preferred to keep that to yourself for the time being.

“Of course, it’s not a bother,” he finally responded, his voice quiet, concerned. “Whatever you need.”

Some time later you wiped the tears from your cheeks and turned to watch Elijah drive. His face was drawn and he had a firm grip on the steering wheel. He glanced your direction and smiled when he met your gaze. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shrugged a shoulder. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Certainly.”

“Why do you keep me around?”

“What?” He couldn’t have sounded more surprised if he tried.

You turned your attention back to the view from your window. “Not you specifically. All of you. I mean, you don’t owe me anything if that’s what you think. Or maybe you just feel bad for me because everyone else is mad at me. You don’t have to. I’d do okay on my own.”

Elijah didn’t respond right away and you figured he was trying to think of a way to gently break the truth. Just as you were about to tell him it wasn’t necessary, the car slid to a smooth stop. You glanced around to see nothing but trees and you hadn’t been paying attention to the direction Elijah drove from town. You had no idea where you were.

“Look at me, Y/N.”

You turned in your seat so you faced him as much as possible. His dark gaze ran over you and if you didn’t know better, you’d swear you saw sorrow in his eyes. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “What exactly happened tonight?”

You glanced away as your hands twisted together in your lap. “Nothing. I told you he was just being an asshole.”

“Why don’t you try expanding on that a bit, sweetheart. I’m afraid I’m not buying it at the moment.”

You stayed silent as you figured out how to phrase everything so it would make sense.

“Y/N—” Elijah started and you held up a hand to cut him off.

“The thing about your best friend deciding they hate you is that they take everything they know about you and use it to hurt you. And god, Damon’s a pro at it. He hits the mark every time.”

“What do you mean every time? Has this happened before?” The irritation in Elijah’s voice made you smile.

“Not for a while. Right after the whole Kol thing, it happened almost daily. I figured he was done being an ass to me. Guess I was wrong.”

“Why did you not say anything?”

You shrugged again. “It didn’t seem important at the time. I just quit going anywhere I might run into him or the others unless one of you was with me. I figured it had been long enough I’d be safe to have dinner and a couple of drinks without a bodyguard.”

His hand reached out to cover yours where they still twisted together in your lap. Your face heated immediately but you didn’t pull away. “Y/N, if it was bad enough to keep you from living your life the way you wished, it was very important. I can’t believe none of us were aware of this.”

You shook your head, not wanting to argue the point. “It was just pokes. Snide comments, dirty looks. Tonight though…He said he was never my friend. That he pitied me and took me in and I betrayed them. He said there was no reason for anyone to ever be my friend.” Your voice trailed off at the end until it was barely audible. And once again you found yourself unable to look the vampire in the eyes.

He hummed in acknowledgement and released his hold on your hands. Seconds later he was out of the car and opening your door. He offered you a hand to help you out and you took it with no hesitation. He led you toward the front of the car before lifting you and placing you on the hood. You looked up at him with wide eyes as he stepped forward, placing himself between your knees.

One hand settled on your waist while the other hooked around the side of your neck, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. You swallowed past the lump in your throat as he stared down at you with a serious expression. “Listen to me, Y/N. The Mikaelsons pity no one. We are a thousand years old. We have long ceased wasting our time on those that we deem unworthy. Damon is simply pissed that he never wormed his way into your bed before you proved yourself to be monumentally out of his league.”

The corner of your mouth kicked up a bit at that though you weren’t sure you believed him. There was one part of what Damon said that still bothered you. “He said once you all get what you want from me, you’ll toss me away and I’ll be alone again.”

His hold tightened enough to let you know he was upset but not enough to hurt. His jaw set and he took several breaths before responding. “The only thing my siblings desire from you is your companionship, Y/N.”

There was a brief flash of hurt that he hadn’t included himself in the statement. The look in his eyes had you pressing for more. “And you? What do you desire from me, Elijah?”

The press of his lips against yours was an answer you could never have anticipated. His hands pulled you forward and you slid off the hood to erase the space between your bodies. The hand on your neck shifted to bury his fingers in your hair while his other arm wrapped around your waist. Your hands gripped the lapels on his jacket as you tried to pull him closer.

Finally, the two of you separated and your chest heaved as you sucked in much needed air. “That was…unexpected,” you breathed.

“Unexpected but not unwelcome I hope.” A smile flirted with his lips as his dark gaze studied you.

You shook your head and he kissed you again before resting his forehead against yours. “I’m sorry Damon hurt you, Y/N. I won’t allow it to happen again.”

“How can he possibly hurt me when I have you to protect me?”

His low chuckle rolled through you as you leaned up to kiss him again. As his hands gripped your waist you couldn’t help but be a little bit grateful that Damon was such an asshole.

#elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah x reader #elijah mikaelson fanfic #the originals fanfiction #vampire diaries fanfiction #flangst #bullying

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broadstbroskis · 3 years

Text

funny | mat barzal

a/n: quite frankly, i don’t exactly know what this is. i was listening to the song funny (stripped) by jasmine thompson and zedd and pulled this little thing together. it is not, actually, funny at all; if you’ve listened to the song you’ll know we’re headed more for angst (and if you haven’t listened to it, i highly recommend!)

-----

It's funny how you miss me more than you could ever love me How you couldn't give me everythin' and now you want it from me Yeah, it's funny how it's different now that I got somebody

It’s the kind of fall night that made you wish you could live in the season forever. That perfect crispness in the air, where you steal your boyfriend’s jacket from him with just a kiss as you settle into his side near your firepit at the bar, surrounded by all your friends, laughing and drinking. It’s perfect, ideal even, so naturally your phone starts to buzz in your pocket.

do not call him flashes across the screen and you quickly ignore the call, slipping it back into your pocket.

“Everything okay?” Josh is the sweetest, kindest, most caring guy you’ve dated ever, and each time you think the other shoe is going to drop to prove that wrong...it doesn’t. He brushes his nose against your cheek as he checks in, the coldness causing you to flinch away, but he wraps his arms around you, pulling you even closer.

“Yeah.” You allow yourself to be pulled into his arms. “Just spam.”

“Those fools never stop.” Josh laughs, taking a sip of his beer.

You think of the instagram you’d posted earlier, a picture of the two of you laughing doing some corny cheers motion in front of the firepit, and looking happy and in love and all the things people say you look now, and well, you’d heard some things about this fool not being happy.... “Respect the hustle.” You joke, because frankly, you couldn’t care less about Mat Barzal anymore.

It’s the last thing he said to you anyway.

-----

It’s, of course, too much to think that one phone call would be the end of this. Mat’s always been stubborn, always been headstrong, so yeah, of course shit’s different now that you’re happy and he’s not.

But you should have known better. This smoothie place was Tito Beauvillier’s before it was yours and he was Mat’s friend before yours too. Besides the occasional instagram comment, you hadn’t had much interaction until this run-in, but the look on his face tells you exactly how this is going to go.

And sure enough, after small pleasantries while you’re both waiting for your smoothies, he drops exactly what you knew he was going to. “He misses you.”

“That’s nice.”

Tito gives you a look; the seriousness doesn’t fit him at all. “He’s not looking for anything from you. He just-he knows he messed up and he’s sorry. Will you just talk to him?”

Behind the counter, the barista calls your name, blessedly, because you’re done with this conversation. “I wanted to talk to him last spring. He doesn’t just get to decide he wants to talk to me again now, now that he’s decided I am a good enough toy for him.” Tito winces and like, good fucking riddance. “Fuck off, Tito, and tell Mat the same.”

-----

Your best friend’s golden birthday falls on a Saturday, and she sends everyone a detailed itinerary for her plans for the evening, including but not limited to: sparkly dresses, champagne, and shots. She’s only been planning this occasion since her last birthday, so you’ve got the short, silver, sparkly dress already planned for the evening, and jello shots prepped in the fridge for the pregame.

The jello shots and champagne turn out to be needed because somehow, someway, there’s a pack of Islanders at the third bar you turn up at, Amanda already pushing her way up to the bar for a round. “It’s my birthday!” She shouts to the bartender, who’s definitely eyeing up more than her face.

You only just manage to get a drink in your hand when the reason you ordered a double appears at your elbow. “Can we talk?” Mat requests gently, even as you stare at him entirely unimpressed. “Please.”

Honestly, you want to say no, so badly. You’d given Mat so much; he was the one who’d ended it with practically nothing, the one who didn’t want to say a word to you about it afterwards. You’d been sad about it, you’d been angry about it, you’d moved on. There wasn’t anything to say to him.

And it’s that, the idea of telling him there’s nothing left to say, more than anything, that has you agreeing to follow him. Mat walks outside the bar completely, away from the bouncer to a quiet spot just a few feet away.

“Thanks for coming out here with me.” Mat says and then stops.

“Mhmm.” You nod, hoping it’ll spur him into talking, but it really doesn’t, which just annoys you. “Do actually have something to say, or-”

“I miss-” Mat starts, but you cut him off abruptly.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” He frowns.

“Don’t say it.”

He huffs and you can see him start to get annoyed, which just flares your temper. “You asked me to say it, so I did!”

“Well, you don’t fucking get to say that!” You cry, breathing heavily. “You didn’t have shit to say to me when I wanted to talk to you. You didn’t have shit to say to me all spring or summer.” You can feel the tears coming to your eyes, the frustration you feel from the situation not helping.

“I didn’t...I didn’t handle it well.” Mat says quietly. He looks down at the sidewalk, scuffing his shoe in a way that’s unlike him; he hates doing that, loves his shoes too much to risk messing with them.

“No fucking shit.” You can’t even fight back the sarcasm or the eye roll.

But now Mat’s on a roll. “I should have talked to you before I broke up with you in the first place, but I could have at least said something to you when you wanted to last spring. I loved you then and I still love you now and I miss you.”

Those are definitely tears sliding down your cheeks and when Mat reaches a thumb out to wipe them away, you can’t even bring yourself to stop him. “That’s not fair.”

Seriously, fuck him. Fuck him for making you think you were over him. Fuck him for being so gentle. Fuck him for putting you in this position.

“I’m sorry.” Mat says and you don’t even realize he’s gotten closer until he’s pressing the softest kiss to your forehead.

“For last spring in general?” You hear the hiccup in your breath, know that Mat hears it too. “Or for waiting until I was happy to apologize for it?”

Mat’s silent at that and you both know the answer as he presses another kiss to your forehead, before stepping away. “Fuck you, Mat.” You repeat, as he slips away toward the club, leaving you once again, crying alone in the cold.

#mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal fanfic #hockey imagine #hockey fanfic #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #my hockey fics

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peachyteabuck · 4 years

Text

remember what you love like

summary: is a lunch date still a lunch date after you leave the restaurant?

a commission for @buckysbunny

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

words: 2,014

trigger warnings: allusions to compulsory heterosexuality, fingering, fluff, mentions of sexting

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

Natasha’s hands are tangled in your forest green cardigan, one hand on the small of your back while the other is pressed into the back of your neck.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmurs when you pull away to gasp for breath, head spinning as a trail of spit connects your mouths in a sight you wish you could see in one of those giant oil paintings that draw large crowds to art museums. “My beautiful little Bunny.”

You preen under her praise, your own hands shaky as they find purchase in her hair, the beltloop of her jeans, anything you can grab as she pushes you into your apartment, pressing you against each and every surface she deems fit. Somewhere between your front door and the wall directly opposite said entrance you lose your cardigan and your shoes, clothes falling to the floor as you’re pushes down the hallway and, finally, onto your bed. You’d made it that morning hoping your lunch date wouldn’t end after you’d left the restaurant just as you had cleaned the rest of your apartment. In truth you’re not sure whether the frantic scrubbing and organization of your kitchen was to impress her or distract yourself for how nervous you were, considering you and Natasha have been dating for about three months now and hadn’t done more than cuddle and today, today of all days felt like the right to rectify that. The two of you had spent all night sexting after you’d sent her a picture of you in your new bra – a pale pink one that made your tits look exquisite. Things had only escalated, you shoving your hands down your pajama shorts to get yourself off at her direction.

So yeah, given all of that, you were decently confident that you would end up with her tongue down your throat and her hands groping at your tits – a thought that left you some weird mixture of overjoyed and frightened.

As your back hits your girly, patterned comforter your heart beats against your ribcage, each chamber trying to rip itself from the rest of the muscle just so that it can travel to each of your limbs and make them shake. Something – someone – is screaming in your ears, the high-pitched sound nearly loud enough to drown out the woman who’s crawled on top of you.

Nearly.

“Hey,” Natasha coos, peppering small kisses along your face and jaw and neck as her center presses into yours. “Hey, Bunny-“

You finally meet her eyes when that pet name – her pet name for you - falls from her lips. Only then does she notice how terrified you look.

“You good, Bunny?” she asks, her own heart now picking up not because her fingertips are on fire and your skin feels just as hot. “Is everything okay?”

“I, uh-“ you struggle to find the words, wishing you kept your blanket-like cardigan on so you could hide in it. “I haven’t done this with uh,” you trying to swallow despite your dry mouth. “With women.”

Natasha exhales deeply, face visibly softening. It doesn’t feel like pity, though, which suppresses a tiny bit of your nervousness; the last thing you want is for the woman responsible for the menagerie in your stomach each time she texts you or says your name or worms her way into every passing thought to think of you as some sort of charity case.

“Oh, babes,” she places each hand flat on either side of your jaw, both thumbs rubbing soothingly into your heated cheeks. “You know I’m okay with that – right? I don’t want you any less just because you haven’t done with women before.”

You sniffle, trying to keep the tears that prick the corners of your eyes in their spot. “A-are you sure?”

Natasha nods, leaving a small kiss on the center of your forehead. “Of course I am, Bunny. I don’t care how many women you’ve had sex with.”

“E-even though I’ve had sex with guys?” your eyes are big and scared, petrified of rejection.

Natasha just smiles, pulling you closer to her. “Yes, Bunny. Your sexual history certainly doesn’t define you as a person and doesn’t change how I feel about you. Okay?”

You smile back, leaning into her arms as you sniffle once more. “O-okay.”

“Now,” she smiles as she pulls back, readjusting herself onto her side as you stay on your back. “Where were we?”

And just like that – with fear quelled and uncomfortable twisting in your stomach now loose and simmering below your skin – she returns to her original mission, one that involves ghosting her fingers over your clothed chest before thumbing at the hem of your denim skirt. “You’re so cute, Bunny,” she murmurs. “Such an adorable little Bunny all for me…”

Natasha then pushes your skirt up to your stomach, keeping it in place with her forearm as she begins rubbing the two middle fingers of her right hand along your clothed slit. Your chest heaves as she grins down at your scrunched eyes, furrowed brow, and kiss-swollen lips.

“So beautiful,” she murmurs into your neck, teeth barely pressing into the bruises that deepen with each passing moment. “So good for me, Bunny…”

Lewd moans fall from your mouth as circles your clit, the adorable pink cotton panties you had specifically chosen that morning hoping and praying this would happen now completely soaked through. They’re rough against your sensitive, desperate clit – pussy pulsing around nothing as you buck your hips frantically.

“P-please,” you moan, voice nearly unrecognizable now. “P-please N-Nat!”

She presses a firm kiss to your lips, smiling as she moves her hands to rub at your pussy under your panties. The feeling of her hand there without anything between her skin and your is intoxicating – her fingers easily finding your clit once more. “Call me Mommy,” she murmurs, free hand pushing the sweaty hairs from your forehead. “Call me Mommy, sweet Bunny.”

“Mommy, oh fuck-“ you gasp, the feeling of her hands and the mention of that title you’d been discussing the night before shooting another bolt of lightning through your nervous system, hands bunch the sheets in your palms – your fingers nearly numb as all of your blood rushes to your core. “Oh fucking shit!”

For the first time in what feels like hours you find the courage to open your eyes – another moan deep in your chest filling the hot, thick air. You always wondered why people described being fucked as being consumed, as being the main course in a large meal presented to some rich, old-timey monarch after they return from visiting the more desolate parts of the territory they rule over.

Now, though, under Natasha’s heated gaze with three of her fingers stuffed inside of you while the other hand presses into your stomach – you feel like some prized pig slathered in glaze and placed onto an obnoxious silver platter with a whole apple placed into your waiting mouth as fruits and vegetables circle your flesh. If you had ever felt desired, it certainly didn’t match up to the fire in Natasha’s eyes as she devours each time you twitch, moan, beg for more.

“You sure you want more?” she purrs, fingers stroking that spot inside of you that makes your legs shake and eyes tear up once more. “Does my greedy little Bunny want her Mommy to give her more?”

You nod furiously, mouth barely able to keep up with your racing thoughts. “Yes, fuck Mommy please please please I want-“ you moan as she fucks into you harder, reveling in watching you fall apart. “Please I’ll take anything you want to give me Mommy please!”

Without further delay Natasha moves between your legs, maneuvering you so that one of her hands fucked in and out of you while the other circles your clit in hot, tight circles. Your eyes don’t know where to focus – on the sight on Natasha’s hands working you into some kind of putty or the woman herself, whose smug grin and furrowed brow are almost intimidating in their determination.

“M-mommy,” you gasp out, legs trying to shut themselves involuntarily, stopped only by the woman between your legs. Your toes curl, spine bending forward as the white-hot pleasure in your stomach curls itself tighter and tighter around itself. “Mommy, Mommy, I’m gonna, I’m gonna-!”

You come with a guttural moan you almost don’t recognize as yours – a sound so animalistic you wonder if Natasha had rewired your brain into some pre-human thing incapable of speech. It’s hot, so hot, and in your post-orgasmic bliss you wonder if life could get any better.

“How you feeling, Bunny?” Natasha asks, trying to find some signs of life behind your glazed-over eyes.

“So fucking good! I feel so good, Mommy!” you gasp out, mouth dry and lunges seemingly devoid of oxygen.

The woman above you just laughs, though, throws her beautiful head back and laughs and oh God – oh God you need to find it in you to tell her to stop doing that because you’ve only been dating for a few months and her beauty radiates with the power of the sun and you weren’t born with UV-protection in your retinas and if her light doesn’t burn you to a crisp first you think you’re going to fucking explode.

“I’m glad,” she tells you, running her now-wrinkled fingertips over the inside of your trembling thighs. Silence settles of you both as you feel your bones…vibrate? Or maybe that’s chest your heart again – the stupid thing incapable of handling this much joy and pleasure at the same time. It takes a long while for Natasha to speak again, not wanting to spook you in your fragile state. “Hey Bunny?” she asks, watching to make sure you’d heard her. “I’m gonna get you some water, okay?”

You give her a small “okay,” body still as she climbs off your bed.

You’re boneless – inert as you lay there with your arms flat at your sides and your legs in the same bent position Natasha had left them in before she had oh-so meanly abandoned you. Just as before, your chest rises and falls as if a forty-pound weight was pressing into it – each inhale painful and a struggle with the exhales happening all too quickly. It’s unfamiliar, being so satiated. Being with men had left you feeling fine, maybe a little out of breath, but with Natasha? God, you wouldn’t be able to move if the fire alarms went off; you’d just lay here, vision fuzzy around the edges as the smell of smoke came through the air vents. (Then again, given the state of Natasha’s arms, you think she’d be able to carry you out of your apartment building just fine.)

She returns – just as she said she would – with a mug of cold water that she holds as if it was priceless and not something you thrifted for less than a dollar when you had moved from your last apartment.

“Thanks,” you croak as she hands it to you, watching as you sit up and wince ever so slightly as your sensitive pussy presses into the sheets. You’ll need to change them – and soon – but somehow that feels like an impossible task as you gulp down what, in your state, tastes closer to ambrosia than the shit in your Brita. When you’re finished Natasha takes the now empty mug from you, placing it on your nightstand before hugging you to her chest and pushing you back until you hit the sheets once more, lying down next to you and throwing her arm around your waist.

“You good, Bunny?” she asks again, a part of her always worried about you no matter how much euphoria pooled in your veins.

You nod as you curl into her side, leaving a kiss on her collarbone as you listen to her heartrate slow as it returns its resting pace. It’s calming, that combined with the feeling of her fingers twirling in your mused hair lulling you into the deepest sleep you’ve had in weeks.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff/reader #black widow x reader #lukis writes stuff #lukis does commissions #this was actually v fun to write i miss fluff lmao

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nitewrighter · 3 years

Note

I just finished reading the pre-fall Gency argument fic that you made in response to an ask/prompt about another fic, and it’s amazing! Do Genji and Mercy make up after their argument, though? Does Genji tell Mercy more about what really happened with Moira in the Pining/Flight fic, and does he manage to explain to her why he felt he should still be stopping the Shimada clan (the part where he started to trip over his words during the pre-fall argument)? I’m so sorry for all the questions, but I loved this fic so much and would love to see them resolve their argument!

Yeah they make up, but more importantly have you ever gone, “OH FUCK I FIGURED OUT HOW TO WORK THIS FIC INTO A MAJOR CANON PLOT POINT?” Anyone?

Continuing off of this ficlet.

----

Genji lay on his narrow bed, staring at the too-high ceiling of his quarters and replaying the argument between himself and Mercy in his head as he had done so for the past few days.

I messed up.

A part of him felt like he should be used to it, after years of Hanzo telling him he was an embarrassment, but this stung differently and deeper. It wasn’t not meeting the draconian standards of the clan, it was realizing he had a perspective on death that was fundamentally incompatible with the morals of someone he cared for deeply. He glared at the ceiling as he remembered Moira’s words.

You’re finally understanding the difference between those up there, and those of us down here.

But McCree had spoken up against what Reyes had done. He wouldn’t shut up about it the whole mission.

Well he and Angela were close so... Genji’s thoughts trailed off then, wondering if Ziegler and McCree would talk about how he and Reyes were monsters.

Even after having his body destroyed and reconstructed to this patchwork of flesh and metal, it had at least given him focus and purpose: vengeance. It was a relief from all the pain to commit himself to the destruction of the Shimada clan, to killing Hanzo, and he could have done that through Blackwatch, but now one death of someone who definitely had it coming had blocked the path. He had no way of knowing what was ahead, and he had just alienated one of the few people at the Watchpoint he actually liked talking to. But she didn’t get it, the Shimada clan had to be stopped. Hanzo had to die. What kind of world did she think she was living in? He raised his prosthetic hand and ran the thumb of his organic hand along the lines of its plates.

You’re not a weapon. I can’t let everything Overwatch touches become a weapon... he remembered her words from the garden on a night that felt so long ago.

So what am I? Shimada Ninja? Blackwatch Agent? Assassin by another name? Machine? his eyes trailed to his organic hand, Man?

He let his hands drop, hanging over the sides of the bed, I guess I’ve managed to screw up as every single one of those.

His morning alarm started beeping and he sighed. Cybernetics always woke him up a little too early.

After freshening up in the dormitory washrooms and dressing , Genji stepped out of his quarters and walked down the hall to the main body of the Blackwatch facilities. There were fewer bodies moving between the offices today. A significant number of office workers and agents had been either suspended or relocated to other Overwatch operations, and the remaining faces looked exhausted and grim.

It’s not just Angela dealing with the fallout of Venice... thought Genji as he walked through. He needed to talk to McCree, he decided. He wasn’t quite ready to talk to Angela yet. A part of him knew he needed to apologize, but another part of him knew an apology was worthless without a clear adjustment in behavior and perspective--and with the path before him so obscured now, he wasn’t sure what that shift would entail. Plus if anyone knew how to smooth things over between people, especially someone also from Blackwatch...

Genji’s thoughts were interrupted as he heard muffled shouting from Reyes’s office. He looked around and saw what few agents were down in the Blackwatch offices had all chosen to give Reyes’s office a massively wide berth. One intern lingered close to the glass with wide eyes before being quickly escorted away by a more seasoned-looking clerk. The glass walls around Reyes’s office had been tinted opaque, but he made out Morrison’s muffled voice.

“---can assure you our agents and local law enforcement are doing everything they can, Gérard--”

“Don’t give me that!” Gérard was the shouter, something that sounded unnatural to Genji given how polite Gérard had always been in his previous brushes with the UN Attaché. “None of this would have happened if you had kept Reyes and his team where they needed to be!”

“We don’t have enough intel on Talon movements to know the timeframe on---”

“We have even less intel because of the shit you pulled in Rialto! Do you know how many active files I had to surrender to the UN Inquiry to keep Blackwatch from being completely gutted?!” Gérard snapped, “Talon took my wife and thanks to you I have to deal with that with both hands tied behind my back!”

“You’re not dealing with it alone--” Morrison was trying to reassure him.

“Morrison I cannot tell you how sick I am of covering for you covering for Reyes--And the fact that covering for Reyes is largely my job speaks to how much control you’ve ceded--” Gérard snarled.

“Chewing us out won’t get her back,” Reyes’s voice cut in bitterly.

“No, but you should both understand it’s one more product of your mistakes,” Gérard’s voice was thick.

Genji hadn’t realized how close he was leaning to the tinted glass of the office and started briskly walking down the hall, trying to put as much distance between himself and whatever was going down between Reyes, Morrison and LaCroix. He heard the door slide open and shut and picked up the pace of his walk. He heard bitter muttering in French a ways behind him before hearing, “Agent Shimada?”

Genji pretended not to hear and started walking a bit faster down the hall.

“Agent Shimada!” there was a rapid clacking slap of expensive oxfords on the cement floor and Gerard suddenly caught up with him. Fast, was all Genji thought at first, I guess he was a field agent at some point-- But that trail of thought cut off as Genji took in the disheveled appearance of the usually suave and stylish Gérard Lacroix. Licks of dark hair were shrouding one side of his forehead, broken free of their usual glossy black coif. He wasn’t wearing a suit jacket or tie, his sleeves rolled and rumpled up to his elbows and his usually paper-crisp collar rumpled and wilting, his suspenders emphasizing all the wrinkles of his usually immaculate shirts. He smelled like cigarettes. Genji didn’t even know he smoked.

“I need to talk to you--it’s paramount importance--Your dossier said Talon tried to recruit Sojiro once--Yes?”

“Um... yes?” said Genji.

“Do you remember any names from that time?” Gérard gripped Genji’s shoulders and Genji’s arms tightened at his sides at the touch, Gérard’s eyes were wide, pleading.

“Er...” Genji hesitated.

“Anything. Any name at all. Even aliases are a lead. Code names are a cypher. I can figure this out. We can get her back--we have to--there should have been demands--there have to be demands--we can’t negotiate but we can buy time--isolate the signal--” Gérard’s fingers were drumming on Genji’s prosthetic shoulder as if punching out sums on an invisible calculator. He wasn’t even looking at Genji.

“I... wish I could help,” Genji’s words came slowly to him. They felt strange, soft, helpless. He really couldn’t remember any names from that time, at least none that he could be sure he actually remembered and hadn’t just pulled out of nowhere that would only lead Gérard on a wild goose chase. For Genji, the only really memorable part of that meeting had been Hanzo had taken a shine to some Talon lieutenant and refused to tell Genji about it when he asked.

So much for specialized Shimada intel... Genji thought a little bitterly. But Gérard stared straight into Genji’s eyes and Genji saw a flicker of heartbreaking realization in Gérard’s expression.

“....listen to me,” Gérard’s voice dropped slightly as his hands dropped from Genji’s shoulders, “I....I’m talking to a suspended agent hoping for nearly decade-old leads...” Gérard made a sound that was between a chuckle and stuffing down a sob as he pushed those dark licks of hair from his face, “I’m a mess without her.”

Genji’s stomach stung a little at the words ‘suspended agent.’ It had felt so temporary but hearing it from Gérard made it sink in as a reality with no visible end, but just as affecting was Gérard’s distress, the fact that the charming, if a little litigious, agent was suddenly up to his neck in paralyzing fear and helplessness when he wasn’t the one in danger. Genji studied Gérard for a few seconds.

“Without.... who?” said Genji. He knew it was Gérard’s wife but wasn’t about to let Gérard know he had heard the whole exchange between him, Reyes, and Morrison.

“Amélie,” Gérard seemed to be looking through Genji then, his brow crinkled, “Talon they--I mean we’re not positive yet but--well you aren’t cleared for this yet. I shouldn’t...”

“Suspended,” Genji shrugged, “And... looking like this, I can’t exactly get off-site to talk about it.”

Gérard huffed “And... I’ve heard you’re not exactly the talkative type,” Gérard smiled a little.

“Ninja,” Genji shrugged.

“I-I think she’d like you...” His shoulders sagged, “Practical... steady... if she were here she’d probably tell me I’m making a fool of myself.”

You are and I have no idea how to help you so please let me go, thought Genji, but the smile on Gérard’s face eased him a bit. Genji wasn’t sure what to do with this feeling--helping and yet not helping. He remembered certain looks in Mercy’s face when he would talk about the Shimada clan, those hints of wanting to do something but feeling the ability to do so just beyond his reach. How often did she feel that with all of his fury? With all his grief?

“I wish I understood what was going through Reyes’s mind in Rialto...” Gérard spoke and startled Genji from his own thoughts.

“...Antonio told him his associates would get him out within the week, Reyes... responded... practically,” said Genji.

“Practically,” a huff fell out of Gérard, “Just like in the debriefs.”

Genji’s brow crinkled. “The point of Blackwatch is to operate from the shadows. It was never about how it would be seen because it... wasn’t meant to be seen.”

“But it still has effects,” Gérard murmured, “And you still have to live with yourself afterwards.”

You still have to live with yourself.

The image of Zhihong Peh gurgling on his own blood on the end of Genji’s sword flashed to his mind. The thwack of his father hitting a fish on a rock in Shirakami-sanchi.

Make it clean. Make it quick.

“Would Amélie still have been taken if...?” Gérard’s voice pulled Genji from his memories again, but Gérard just lowered his head and furrowed his brow. “It doesn’t matter now. have to find a new angle. I have to... she...” he lifted his chin slightly, “Monsieur Shimada. I appreciate you putting up with the ravings of a madman. I must go. Thank you.”

“....you’re welcome?” said Genji, but Gérard was already walking past him.

Genji stood there in the hallway a few minutes longer. Amélie LaCroix had been taken. Whether or not that had happened in response to killing Antonio remained to be seen... but it was clear that the fallout from Rialto had not helped. He looked at his hands. For so long ‘practical’ had been a straight line, but now it seemed that the path he had been carving out was caving in on him. What was practical now?

Whatever you can do to help.

And where do you start?

With the people who you know always help.

----

It was late at night in the lab and Mercy was nodding off slightly, her chin in her hand at her monitor when a coffee mug gently clacked down on the desk beside her. She flinched awake and her head swung around to see Genji slowly withdrawing one hand, holding his own coffee cup in the other.

“Peace offering,” said Genji, “...if you don’t want to deal with me right now, you don’t have to. Say the word and I’ll leave you alone.”

Mercy tentatively picked up the mug and sipped at it, glaring at Genji slightly through her eyebrows before lowering the cup into her lap.

“What do you want?” she said, her voice clipped.

“I wanted to say... I’m sorry for storming off like that and...You were right,” Genji said quietly, “Killing Antonio creates far more problems than it solves.”

There was some hope in Mercy’s eyes, but she also gave him a sort of uneasy, puzzled look.

“And...” Genji’s voice was a bit more tight, “On a... lawful and ethical level, it... was wrong.” He dropped his voice to a low mutter, “Even if he would have wormed his way out of the law.”

Mercy huffed and smiled a little. “I... I know the law also needs reforms so that doesn’t happen, so that justice can be done... but in the meantime...”

“In the meantime we shouldn’t shoot people in the face,” Genji conceded with a shrug.

“Right,” said Mercy. Her smile was a little crooked. There was a long silence then, tentative, and a little anxious. Genji leaned against the desk, wrapping his organic hand around the mug, taking some comfort in its warmth.

“Angela—I need you to understand something about me,” Genji said, not looking at her.

“Please don’t—“ Mercy started.

“Just listen. The first time the clan made me kill someone, I was 14 years old,” Mercy’s eyes widened and Genji’s knuckles rolled tight on the coffee mug, “And that wasn’t the only person I killed for them.

Mercy’s shoulders shrank inward, her eyes not meeting his.

“The clan,” Genji paused and took a steadying breath before continuing, “Worked to make me into something… no one should be. It…cultivated a way for me to see the world that very much affected my concepts of what is acceptable. What is good.” He gave a short huff. “But I don’t… I don’t want to be them. I don’t want to cause the same hurts they have caused.”

She looked at him then. That same searching look. That same ‘I want to help but I don’t know how’ look, and Genji’s stomach stung with the strange helplessness he felt when Gérard was gripping his shoulders earlier that day.

“But Blackwatch never asked me to question what the clan taught me. It just… saw I was angry, saw I was hurt, and pointed me in a certain direction,” he huffed, “And now I’m stuck here. And I can’t do anything. And... ” he took a steadying breath, “I care about you. I care about our friendship. And I care about what you think of me. I don’t know... if I will ever be fully rid of what the Shimada clan cultivated in me... it... it feels like it only got sharper after what Hanzo did to me. It feels rooted in my very survival instincts. But I know I don’t want to be Reyes, and I don’t want to lose you, and... if what Blackwatch did caused all this hurt to all these people who had nothing to do with what happened in Rialto.. it’s true that it should be suspended.”

Mercy blinked a few times. “Do you really mean that?”

“Well... to an extent...” said Genji, “If Blackwatch still had its intel networks up...”

“Maybe we could help Gérard find Amélie,” Mercy said quietly.

“You know about Gérard?” Genji looked over at her.

“I only got the briefing a few hours ago,” said Mercy. She was quiet for a few seconds. “Genji... I... I don’t think you’re a bad person for what the Shimada clan conditioned you to do. You do scare me sometimes, but I genuinely believe, deep down, you want to do good.”

“I scare you?” Genji lifted his prosthetic hand and looked down at it.

“Not because of that...” Mercy touched the metal of his knuckles and he let his hand drop as his eyes raised to hers, “I--I’m scared for you. I don’t want you to think you’re alone. And--and I want you to be able to have a life outside of Overwatch.” She huffed. “That’s what it does. It takes in people who have nowhere else to go and who just want to help and it takes everything they can give and you never know if it’s being used to help or to...” her voice trailed off and she was staring forward. Genji touched her shoulder gently.

“For what it’s worth... without Overwatch I would have never met you,” said Genji.

“I’m glad I’ve met you too,” said Mercy, smiling a little, “Silver linings right?”

“Right...” said Genji.

A long pause passed between them.

“...so where do we go from here?” said Genji, quietly.

“Well... I still have my work... I suppose this means we can spend more time together?” Mercy shrugged, “And... with Blackwatch suspended... maybe you can take some time to figure out what you want. Outside of Overwatch. Outside of taking down the Shimada clan.”

I don’t know how ready I am to deal with that, thought Genji, but he just nodded.

“So...” Genji swirled his coffee in its mug, “What are you working on tonight?”

“Well... apparently there’s been this incident at Watchpoint Pembrey,” said Mercy, glancing back to her monitor, “But it’s very confusing on, well... a physics level?”

“Something is confusing the genius Angela Ziegler?” Genji pulled up a chair, “Tell me more.”

Mercy snickered a little. Then started telling him.

#gency #gerard lacroix

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ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa · 4 years

Text

Footprints in the Sand

Part 10: Start a War

Summary/Author's Note: TWO MONTHS. Two fucking months Oberyn was silent in my head and y’all suffered for it. I just knew everyone would stop caring about this fic because I let you all down but I posted that it was coming back and my inbox and DMs have been BLOWING UP all fucking night. I love you guys and I am very emotional. Enjoy.

We had to have just a little drama but of course I would never keep our main three from going to Dorne. Oberyn knows perfectly well that there will be consequences to his actions--he does not care. We are officially in double digits people?? This is unreal. Also, please listen to this song to get the feeeeeeel of what’s going on.

Pairing: Oberyn x Ellaria x Lannister!Reader Word Count: 4.1k Warnings/ratings: 18+/R - Distress, Sad!Oberyn (this was hard to write but I fixed it), murder, throat slashing, Oberyn is angry and reckless.

[Parts] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [MASTERLIST]

The waves crashed against the rocks with as much gentleness as was possible for the crags of King’s Landing. The air was cold, but the sky a crisp blue as the sun started to peak over the water. It was a good day for sailing, a good day for travel, and most importantly a good day for going home. Oberyn leaned on one of the posts on the boardwalk leading out into the waters as he watched his soldiers ready the ship. He held the slip of parchment in his fist, torn between crumpling it, re-reading it for the hundredth time, or throwing it into the ocean.

‘I’m sorry. I can’t do this.’

Six words. After this week was that all they meant to you? The note was signed at the bottom with your name but he couldn’t believe it. His guts churned with the idea that what the three of you had shared in the brothel could be summed up in such a small note. He crushed it in his fist again and swallowed the lump in his throat as he tossed it into the sea. He watched it float down to the surface before getting swallowed by a wave and wished it was the sorrow he felt instead.

“My love?”

Oberyn looked over his shoulder as Ellaria came to stand behind him and put her hand on his sleeve, the other gripped his bicep as she bowed her head to kiss his shoulder. Her eyes were red and despite the stern, stoic way she held her body he knew she had spent most of the morning with silent tears rolling down her cheeks. She had put most of her energy into ignoring their existence, and he didn’t dare bring attention to them.

“I thought she’d come,” Oberyn said flatly as he looked back out onto the horizon.

“So did I,” she whispered against his cloak.

He knew it had been quick, a passion spurred on by spite and excitement, but he thought despite the amount of time, there was a certain kinship between you. The idea of not belonging in one place, of wanting to see what wonders the world held--they could give that to you. That and so much more. All it required of you was a leap of faith and yet you were choosing to stay with the Lannisters.

Looking back to the city, looming in the twilight of the morning, it was as if he was waiting for you to come running over the hill. If it was possible, he would stand here and wait as long as he had to.

"I vow to worship your body with my mouth, hands, and cock, every night once we're in Dorne." “Promise?”

He had made you that promise against that table in the library with his cock buried inside of you and you had called him your prince. Had it all been for nothing? Was it just a pretty sentiment said in the height of ecstasy? The thought made a twinge of pain blossom in his chest and he pushed it deep into the background of his subconscious. If you truly didn’t want to go to Dorne, if you didn’t want Ellaria, if you didn’t want..him--he wanted to hear it come from your own lips.

“It doesn’t make sense,” he rubbed his beard in thought. “Who did you say brought the note?”

“I don’t know,” Ellaria answered honestly. “Your men said the messenger was wearing Lannister colors.”

“Something doesn’t feel right,” Oberyn stood up straight and walked towards the plank ramp that was leading up to his ship. He stopped the captain of his guard with a gesture of his hand and the man stood at attention with his hand on his scimitar. “Change of plans.”

“But, my prince--” the man looked startled as he faced him. “We’re almost ready to set sail.”

“Then you’ll be ready when I return.” Oberyn held up his hand and stopped another of the guards from walking one of the horses up the ramp.

“Return?” Ellaria spoke up and turned Oberyn to face her instead. “What are you doing?”

“She didn’t write that, Ellaria--”

“Oberyn--”

“Someone else did.”

“Listen to yourself--”

“My gut is never wrong. She’s in trouble--”

“Oberyn!” Ellaria grabbed both of his upper arms tightly, digging her fingers into the fabric of his yellow sleeves as she fought the urge to shake him. “I thought she would come, as well. I’m heartbroken that she--” She shook her head and swallowed hard. “That she doesn’t want us. But what are you going to do? Storm the Red Keep with a handful of men? And what if you’re wrong--what then?”

“I’m not wrong. And I don’t need a handful of men--I have me.” He gave her waist a squeeze in return and leaned forward to capture her lips and kiss her hard. It was brief, but it caught her off guard just enough to release her hold on him as he walked around her to the horse.

“Don’t do this,” Ellaria pleaded once she recovered, but it fell on deaf ears. Oberyn was many things, but with his fearlessness often came a stupidity that Ellaria knew was going to put her in an early grave.

“Captain,” Oberyn addressed the man from before as he undid his traveling cloak and tossed it to one of the other soldiers.

“Your grace?” The stoic man stood up straighter and gave a nod of attention.

“No one, except myself, is allowed on this ship. You are to stay with my paramour and keep her safe at all costs, do you understand?” Oberyn gave him a very serious gaze and the other man nodded.

“I’m coming with you,” Ellaria protested, but Oberyn shook his head as he grabbed the horn of the saddle and hoisted himself up onto the animal with a swing of his leg.

“No,” He said curtly, rubbing his hand along hers on his knee to soften the sting of his words. “You are correct in saying I will not be able to take the Keep by force. I’m going to go get her, and come back unseen--I need you ready to sail the moment our feet touch the deck.”

“This will have consequences.”

“Everything we do always does.”

She bit her lip and lowered her dark eyes at him. There was no arguing with him. He had clearly made up his mind. “Be careful.”

He grinned and gave her a nod. “I always am.”

“If that were true, I would worry less,” She said. He chuckled before clicking his tongue and spurring the horse forward back across the dock and back into the city.

It was early enough in the city square that barely anyone was in the streets. The shops and carts were still closed and the morning air was the cold, crisp kind that seemed to permeate one’s lungs and make them feel clean. The metal shoes of the horse clopped softly as Oberyn turned the reins and clicked his tongue again leading the animal down an alleyway.

The shadows swallowed him as he moved along the wall and pulled the animal up short, dismounting gracefully. He moved the reins up over the animal’s head and tied the leather straps to a beam that was protruding from the stone walls.

He knew the tower that held the servants quarters and the one that had held the bedchambers for the Lannisters when Elia had been queen. Ellaria would have skinned him alive if she had known that was what he was basing his entire plan off of--a memory of the castle layout that was the better part of a decade old.

He ran his hand along the damp stones of the wall that led down the alley and around the larger part of the tower. There were no guards to be seen, as they were no doubt guarding the doors, but he wasn’t looking for a door--he was looking for a window. He looked up, carefully pulling a bit of the mortar that held the stones in place from the wall and crumbled it between his fingers. Humming his approval, he pulled his dagger from the sheath on his side and reached up as high as he would and started digging one of the bricks loose.

He put his dagger away and grabbed the self-made foothold tightly before hoisting himself up to the metal sconce that held one of the Lannister banners on the side of the wall. With careful, meticulous planning, he found something to hold onto, one right after the other, up the side of the tower. A gap in the bricks, a stone that was slightly larger than the rest, it all served the same purpose. His arms and shoulders ached with the repeated motion of pulling his weight up but he pressed on.

He climbed to where the tower met one of the breezeways of the garden and used it as an opportunity to take a break and reassess. His boots dropped down on the roof of the apex of the tower and movement caught his eye.

The window directly above him, where he was betting your bedroom was was open. But what was odd was the rope that was hanging down from it, blowing gently in the breeze. No, that wasn’t a rope, that was a long line of bed linens knotted together. The realization made him smirk as he searched the courtyard below for signs of movement.

“Clever woman,” he chuckled quietly to himself.

Staying low, he walked the spine of the roof along the perimeter of the courtyard until he got to the end and looked over into another dark alley. Whatever gods were looking down on him that day, were doing so favorably because just like he had hoped, there you were. You hugged the wall of the alley much like he had, sticking to the shadows as much as possible. Not only were you not wearing a dress, leather riding breeches took the place of lacy skirts, but your hair was tucked carefully under the dark hood of your cloak. To the average person walking by, you looked ordinary, easy to miss, unless someone was really looking.

He turned his back to the alley and gripped the edge of the roof, lowering his body down as far as it would go before releasing his grip. His boots made a firm thud on the cobblestone behind you and he moved swiftly, putting one arm around your waist and the other over your mouth. Just as he expected, you tried to scream against his hand but he was quick to speak against your hair.

“It’s me, it’s me--”

You turned in his arms and he loosened his grip enough to let you. The look of utter relief on your face was enough to make his chest tight. He grinned and tucked a strand of your hair back into the safety of your hood.

“Oberyn..”

He let out a grunt and braced his knees as you threw your arms around his neck and put your face against his shoulder. His arms wrapped tightly around your back and he dipped his head to kiss you softly.

“It’s alright. You’re alright,” he said, quietly.

"How did you know to come? I thought you were supposed to sail this morning before dawn. I was worried I would be too late."

“We are--but I knew something was wrong. I knew you didn’t send that note.” he rubbed his hands up and down your arms as if to keep you warm and convince himself that you were indeed real.

“What note?” You asked, a flash of fear crossing through your eyes followed quickly by realization. “Cersei--she said that she was going to send word to you and Ellaria that I had changed my mind.”

“She did,” he nodded. “But it wasn’t very convincing.” He winked and you gave a sigh of relief and hugged him again. "If you don't wish to go to Dorne, I expect to hear it from your own lips."

"No--" you blurted out and put your hand to your mouth, looking around the alleyway for any signs of another person. "No, I want to go--I want you, and Ellaria."

He smiled then and let his large hand cup the side of your face, allowing you to lean into his touch as he backed you up against the stone wall and kissed you deeply. "I was hoping that's what you would say." He whispered against your lips and you put your hands on his chest, gripping his tunic. He allowed himself to indulge for only a moment before he pulled back and said to the space between you, "We need to go. Ellaria is waiting and I fear the longer we wait, our odds of getting caught only increase."

You nodded quickly. "Cersei gave the order that if anyone wearing Martell colors came to the castle, they were to be killed on sight--especially you and Ellaria."

"Did she now? Well, that might make things interesting." He chuckled, but it held no joy, it was a noise of spiteful entertainment. "Come on," he grabbed your hand and walked ahead of you, keeping the majority of your body behind him.

The two of you hurried along the wall and you let Oberyn guide you down the alley and around the corner as he clearly retraced his steps. He stopped abruptly, almost causing you to collide with his back as he spotted his horse, now being inquisitively observed by two of the king's guard. They carefully untied the beast from its tether to the wall and looked at one another in confusion. Two against one? Those were favorable odds in his eyes.

"Stay here," he said, planting you against the bricks with a firm hand on each of your arms.

"Oberyn--Obr--fuck." You tried to protest but he was already gone.

He moved like his nickname implied, swift and silent, like a snake in the sand. He grabbed the hilt of his dagger and pulled it from his belt, his hand wrapped securely around it as he reached the two guards. They never stood a chance as the prince grabbed the taller one by the back of the helmet, jerked his head backwards, and wrapped his arm around the front of him to run the blade across his throat in a dramatic display of red. The horse whinnied and reared back, taking a few steps away from the group of men.

“Stop!” The other guard yelled, as his comrade fell to his knees and then face down, unmoving on the stone.

The command didn’t do any of good, as Oberyn rushed him before he could pull his long sword. The Prince raised his knee and kickied the long sword from his hand with a clang. Oberyn used the momentum and slammed him up against the brick stones, the man tried to scream and he drove the blade of his dagger into his open mouth, through the back of his head, pinning him against the bricks. Your hand flew to your mouth, muffling an involuntary noise of shock as you watched the man’s body twitch, resembling a butterfly pinned to a board in a Maester’s laboratory.

Oberyn leaned in, gripping the man’s hair as blood poured down his chin and he fought his body’s urge to close his mouth around the blade. Any screams he may have made were strangled around the steel as he looked at his attacker with horrified eyes.

“You can keep the dagger,” Oberyn said quietly, close to the man’s face, as he traced his finger down the detailed snake on the hilt. “I want Jaime and the queen to know I was here.”

He looked back at you, expecting to see horror on your face, disgust, regret, anything that would have you second guessing your decision to go with him now that you had seen such a thing. But you were a Lannister, and when he extended his hand to you, you took it willingly. He pulled you behind him only dropping your hand long enough to hoist himself up onto the horse and reach back down to lift you up as well.

You put your hands in the mane of the animal as one of his arms came around the front of your body and held your back tightly against his chest. He dug the heels of his boots into the haunches of the horse and it bolted, thundering hooves against the stone. It was no longer about being quiet. It was about being quick, and putting as much distance between the you and King’s landing as possible.

The two of you rode hard and fast through the streets of the city. People waking up for the day and starting to open up their homes and shops looked at you with curious speculation but you moved too swiftly for much else. Oberyn’s arm was a comforting weight along your stomach and you put one of your hands over it, leaning back into his chest to ground yourself against the jerking of the horse as it galloped.

The minute the docks came into view you felt like you could breathe again. Your chest ached from the anticipation of being unable to see your destination but it was the image of Ellaria standing tall at the edge of the ship that made you want to burst into tears. She looked absolutely stunning, in her burnt orange robes, soft dark leather bodice and matching riding trousers. She was a siren on the water, and she was waiting to call both of you home.

“Sails!” She yelled, over her shoulder to the men behind her and Oberyn’s captain nodded in agreement before moving to make sure everyone within earshot followed her orders.

Your body jerked as Oberyn steered the stallion up the ramp to the ship and jumped it over the edge onto the deck with a loud thud. He let the animal slow to a trot as its chest heaved from the exertion and it blew loud breaths through its nostrils. He pulled up on the leather reins and came to a stop just as the ship shoved off from the port and Ellaria picked up her robes and came running down off of the quarterdeck.

No sooner had Oberyn released you to slip from the saddle and to the ground did she have you gathered in her arms. Your hood fell and she put her hands in your hair and kissed you. “Thank the gods,” she breathed against your mouth and you smiled, a few tears of relief forming in the corners of your eyes.

Oberyn swung his leg and jumped down, handing the beast off to one of his men before turning a fond grin upon the two of you. “I do believe I told you so.”

“Not now,” she chastised him with a smile and a shake of her head but she kept her gaze on you. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. Ellaria--” you swallowed hard and took her hands in yours and gripped them tightly. “I didn’t--I would never have left..”

“I know, I know, sweet girl,” she brushed your hair back from her face and nodded. “Oberyn knew. You’re safe.” She kissed you again and drew you into her body, resting her chin on your shoulder and looking at Oberyn standing behind you. “What have we done?” she asked with a smile, her tone saying full well that the consequences didn’t matter.

“With any luck,” he shrugged and rubbed his chin as a smirk overtook his face. “We started a war.”

You had no idea just how long you had been on the open water, the days all seemed to run together. The sun rose, the sun set, and as far as the eye could see was just blue water that blended with blue skies. Your fingers twisted idly in the chain of your mother’s necklace that sat nestled between your breasts inside of your bodice--the only worldly possession you had made sure to grab when fleeing the Red Keep. Your lovers had assured you that their first task in Dorne would be to buy you everything you needed, but none of that seemed to matter that much.

The whole feeling of getting further and further away from your old life in King’s Landing seemed surreal. The idea that you didn’t have to return to Casterly Rock didn’t feel like it could possibly be true, but it was. As you stood on the bow of the ship with your hands on the railing and the wind in your hair, you knew that it was true--there was no going back.

Solidly strong arms slid around your waist as sun kissed skin nosed your neck and you leaned back against the solid chest of Oberyn Martell. You had been so caught up in your thoughts, that you hadn’t heard his boots on the planks behind you.

“How is she?” you asked quietly and he spoke as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“She’s fine,” he heaved a sigh when you reached back to put your hand in his hair. “Finally asleep--hopefully she stays that way for a while.”

True to what she had told you in the brothel, as soon as the ship broke the waters of the open ocean, Ellaria had become almost violently sea sick. She had spent the majority of the trip with her entire body over the wooden rails, Oberyn and you taking turns holding her long, dark curls out of the way as she emptied her stomach until there was nothing left. She refused to eat, and when she finally caved and allowed even the smallest morsel to pass her lips, it wound up back in the water a few hours later.

“I feel awful for her.”

“It happens every time,” he said, trying to ease your concerns. “It is a small price to pay to see the world--her words, my dear, not mine.”

You nod and keep your eyes on the horizon as he moves your hair to the side. The action bares your neck to him and your eyes close slowly as you feel his lips start a trail at your shoulder.

“Did you ever send word to your family?” You asked finally, putting your hands over his on your abdomen.

“No,” he answered flatly. “I thought I’d let it be a surprise.”

“I don’t think that’s the best idea.” Your voice was chastising and it made him nip your neck and chuckle when you jumped.

“I’m a Prince of Dorne,” he continued. “You need to get used to that. You don’t need to ask permission anymore.” He kissed up to the shell of your ear and whispered. “What’s our rule?”

The action caused you to shiver and you squeezed his hand. “Don’t apologize.”

“Exactly. Most people spend their entire lives making excuses and apologies for the things they truly desire--we are not most people.” One of his hands slid up from your waist to cup your breast through your bodice as he licked a slow, wet line down the side of your throat.

“Oberyn…” you bit your lip and let out a shaky breath before briefly glancing over your shoulder to make sure none of his men had their attention on the two of you. “Stop--” you moved his hand from your breasts and back to your waist.

“As you wish,” he grinned against your skin and went back to resting his chin on your shoulder and looking out at the water. “But the second we get settled in our chambers in the palace--you and Ellaria are both mine.”

“Our chambers?” you asked, turning your head to smile at him and he hummed in agreement.

“Of course. Unless you’d rather sleep elsewhere?” he teased and chuckled as you shook your head. He was quiet for a few moments before he squeezed you gently, moving one of his arms to point across the horizon. “Look, my love.”

Your gaze followed his arm and your heart raced as the horizon broke to show that there was indeed land on the other side of the world. The smile that broke across your face was so wide that it almost hurt. Unlike the shore of King’s landing and Casterly Rock, there were no cliffs, no crags, no ragged edges to dull the beauty of the waves and darken the landscape. No, this was very different. The sandy beaches were warm and inviting, the foam from each crest of the waves broke against the shoreline and rolled back to let the sunlight sparkle off of the surface. You wanted to jump into the water, to feel the sand against your skin, to immerse yourself in what was to be your new home.

As if sensing your thoughts, Oberyn lowered his voice and spoke against your hair, “Welcome to Dorne, Lioness.”

[Next Chapter]

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#oberyn martell #prince oberyn #oberyn x reader #oberyn martell x reader #pedro pascal #oberyn x ellaria x reader #Ellaria sand #oberyn x ellaria #pedro character fic #game of thrones #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #oberyn martell x you

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terrraaa · 3 years

Text

I see the player you mean.

PLAYERNAME?

Yes. Take care. It has reached a higher level now. It can read our thoughts.

That doesn't matter. It thinks we are part of the game.

I like this player. It played well. It did not give up.

It is reading our thoughts as though they were words on a screen.

That is how it chooses to imagine many things, when it is deep in the dream of a game.

Words make a wonderful interface. Very flexible. And less terrifying than staring at the reality behind the screen.

They used to hear voices. Before players could read. Back in the days when those who did not play called the players witches, and warlocks. And players dreamed they flew through the air, on sticks powered by demons.

What did this player dream?

This player dreamed of sunlight and trees. Of fire and water. It dreamed it created. And it dreamed it destroyed. It dreamed it hunted, and was hunted. It dreamed of shelter.

Hah, the original interface. A million years old, and it still works. But what true structure did this player create, in the reality behind the screen?

It worked, with a million others, to sculpt a true world in a fold of the [scrambled], and created a [scrambled] for [scrambled], in the [scrambled].

It cannot read that thought.

No. It has not yet achieved the highest level. That, it must achieve in the long dream of life, not the short dream of a game.

Does it know that we love it? That the universe is kind?

Sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, it hears the universe, yes.

But there are times it is sad, in the long dream. It creates worlds that have no summer, and it shivers under a black sun, and it takes its sad creation for reality.

To cure it of sorrow would destroy it. The sorrow is part of its own private task. We cannot interfere.

Sometimes when they are deep in dreams, I want to tell them, they are building true worlds in reality. Sometimes I want to tell them of their importance to the universe. Sometimes, when they have not made a true connection in a while, I want to help them to speak the word they fear.

It reads our thoughts.

Sometimes I do not care. Sometimes I wish to tell them, this world you take for truth is merely [scrambled] and [scrambled], I wish to tell them that they are [scrambled] in the [scrambled]. They see so little of reality, in their long dream.

And yet they play the game.

But it would be so easy to tell them...

Too strong for this dream. To tell them how to live is to prevent them living.

I will not tell the player how to live.

The player is growing restless.

I will tell the player a story.

But not the truth.

No. A story that contains the truth safely, in a cage of words. Not the naked truth that can burn over any distance.

Give it a body, again.

Yes. Player...

Use its name.

PLAYERNAME. Player of games.

Good.

Take a breath, now. Take another. Feel air in your lungs. Let your limbs return. Yes, move your fingers. Have a body again, under gravity, in air. Respawn in the long dream. There you are. Your body touching the universe again at every point, as though you were separate things. As though we were separate things.

Who are we? Once we were called the spirit of the mountain. Father sun, mother moon. Ancestral spirits, animal spirits. Jinn. Ghosts. The green man. Then gods, demons. Angels. Poltergeists. Aliens, extraterrestrials. Leptons, quarks. The words change. We do not change.

We are the universe. We are everything you think isn't you. You are looking at us now, through your skin and your eyes. And why does the universe touch your skin, and throw light on you? To see you, player. To know you. And to be known. I shall tell you a story.

Once upon a time, there was a player.

The player was you, PLAYERNAME.

Sometimes it thought itself human, on the thin crust of a spinning globe of molten rock. The ball of molten rock circled a ball of blazing gas that was three hundred and thirty thousand times more massive than it. They were so far apart that light took eight minutes to cross the gap. The light was information from a star, and it could burn your skin from a hundred and fifty million kilometres away.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was a miner, on the surface of a world that was flat, and infinite. The sun was a square of white. The days were short; there was much to do; and death was a temporary inconvenience.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was lost in a story.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was other things, in other places. Sometimes these dreams were disturbing. Sometimes very beautiful indeed. Sometimes the player woke from one dream into another, then woke from that into a third.

Sometimes the player dreamed it watched words on a screen.

Let's go back.

The atoms of the player were scattered in the grass, in the rivers, in the air, in the ground. A woman gathered the atoms; she drank and ate and inhaled; and the woman assembled the player, in her body.

And the player awoke, from the warm, dark world of its mother's body, into the long dream.

And the player was a new story, never told before, written in letters of DNA. And the player was a new program, never run before, generated by a sourcecode a billion years old. And the player was a new human, never alive before, made from nothing but milk and love.

You are the player. The story. The program. The human. Made from nothing but milk and love.

Let's go further back.

The seven billion billion billion atoms of the player's body were created, long before this game, in the heart of a star. So the player, too, is information from a star. And the player moves through a story, which is a forest of information planted by a man called Julian, on a flat, infinite world created by a man called Markus, that exists inside a small, private world created by the player, who inhabits a universe created by...

Shush. Sometimes the player created a small, private world that was soft and warm and simple. Sometimes hard, and cold, and complicated. Sometimes it built a model of the universe in its head; flecks of energy, moving through vast empty spaces. Sometimes it called those flecks "electrons" and "protons".

Sometimes it called them "planets" and "stars".

Sometimes it believed it was in a universe that was made of energy that was made of offs and ons; zeros and ones; lines of code. Sometimes it believed it was playing a game. Sometimes it believed it was reading words on a screen.

You are the player, reading words...

Shush... Sometimes the player read lines of code on a screen. Decoded them into words; decoded words into meaning; decoded meaning into feelings, emotions, theories, ideas, and the player started to breathe faster and deeper and realised it was alive, it was alive, those thousand deaths had not been real, the player was alive

You. You. You are alive.

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the sunlight that came through the shuffling leaves of the summer trees

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the light that fell from the crisp night sky of winter, where a fleck of light in the corner of the player's eye might be a star a million times as massive as the sun, boiling its planets to plasma in order to be visible for a moment to the player, walking home at the far side of the universe, suddenly smelling food, almost at the familiar door, about to dream again

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the zeros and ones, through the electricity of the world, through the scrolling words on a screen at the end of a dream

and the universe said I love you

and the universe said you have played the game well

and the universe said everything you need is within you

and the universe said you are stronger than you know

and the universe said you are the daylight

and the universe said you are the night

and the universe said the darkness you fight is within you

and the universe said the light you seek is within you

and the universe said you are not alone

and the universe said you are not separate from every other thing

and the universe said you are the universe tasting itself, talking to itself, reading its own code

and the universe said I love you because you are love.

And the game was over and the player woke up from the dream. And the player began a new dream. And the player dreamed again, dreamed better. And the player was the universe. And the player was love.

You are the player.

Wake up.

#minecraft end poem

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thedevillionaire · 3 years

Text

Surrender

So, I spend a fair bit of time in a supernatural soap opera world I made up. The background is crazy but I’m finally biting the bullet and posting a fic. You don’t have to know much about it for this one, though - he’s a Demon and the most powerful resident the Underworld has ever seen, she’s a Vampire, a little kink adjacent, interested in maybe learning a bit of magick. And they’re a mutually very devoted couple. I make an attempt at what they look like here . Also this one, which I posted here a while ago, sorry about repeats. Any questions, please ask! But anyway...

----

She loves watching him.

Sometimes too much, perhaps, since despite this demonstration being very specifically done for her benefit, she’s allowed herself to become lost in mellifluous cadence of rich velvet baritone and the dance of long, elegant fingers weaving accompanying airpatterns as illustration, a smooth and balletic fluidity of motion seeming almost at odds with that commanding, tall and broad-shouldered physique, the imposing force of presence, radiant authority that draws all eyes upon him everywhere he goes, and thusly she’s neglected to actually...well, comprehend anything. Again. And now he pauses, the small cluster of leaves he’s holding without touch hovering midair between them, and looks at her in expectation, encouragement.

Am I supposed to say something now? Oh god, I’m supposed to say something now. Kia gazes up at Cerberus – and the leaves, the introductory Kinesis exercise he’s showing her the mechanics of – from her tree-stump seat in the woodland copse and wonders how she can reasonably ask him to repeat everything he’s just explained without having to admit that she didn’t pay proper attention because he’s so fucking stunning he’s practically cinematic.

Although, she finds herself noting with interest, she…may not have to admit anything quite yet. A momentary frown and vague flicker of confusion crosses his face, the piercing intense focus in those famed eyes of emerald becoming hazy, falling away, and he inhales sharply, shakily, glances upwards and pauses in a completely different kind of expectation before inhaling sharply again, more deeply this time.

She loves watching him surrender.

Ah?

Huh. Not now, apparently, as breathy anticipation stalls and fades, eventually dissolving unfulfilled.

He wrinkles his nose, rubs it a few times, shakes his head in curt negation. “Sorry, love. *snf!* Thought I was going to sneeze.”

Indeed. As if she needs to be told, and she smiles just a little, inclines her head in acknowledgement. Her gaze remains fixed on him as he takes another short pause, brief frown, twitch of the nostrils, then with a quiet Hm, another sniffle and a very slight shrug, he returns his attention to the original matter at hand. The leaves have remained in Kinetic hold throughout, and she’s not as surprised as she otherwise might be; she’s more than well aware that he’s exceptionally skilled. The best ever. This is nothing for him, no more than an effortless parlour trick. “Darkling?” he prompts, and she knows he’s referring to the question he’d asked her earlier that she hadn’t been paying the proper kind of attention to. Unfortunately, she has even less of an idea now than she did before, which she hadn’t really thought was possible but oh well here we are, and he definitely expects an answer – or at least he does for a moment, until she’s saved again by a returning and clearly more acute distraction. “Oh, one moment, I…” His brow creases and he turns aside from her in magnificent profile, a gods-forged angular precision entirely at the mercy of whatever stealth tormentor is apparently bothering him right now. “Hh-hh…” She loves watching him surrender because he does it so rarely but he does it so well, so absolutely, this man who submits to nothing, to nobody. Except, of course, to her…and except, perhaps, to this – this simple, common, insistent and equalising need, and she warms at the thought as her beloved, the all-powerful Demon king, loses control. He inhales deeply, urgently, and altogether gives in to a bracing double, almost doubling over with the force of it, heavy and demanding. “Hhh-AHTSSCHHUU! ahh-HEHTSSCH-uu!” She catches the fleeting, almost startled look in his eyes as he glances across to her in apology, as if he’s surprised to find himself capable of such ferocious capitulation, as if he hadn’t been gearing up for precisely that outcome all those expectant moments before. A wet sniffle as he presses a firm hand beneath his nose to no avail, his breath staccato, and hitches into another mighty sneeze. “Huh…ah-HH… AAHTSSCHHUU! Gods. *SNF!* Pardon me.” “Bless you,” she purrs. Pushing a curtain of long, disarrayed ebony hair back from his face, he thanks her quickly, sniffles again, frowns and rubs his nose with purposeful determination. Annoyance now mixes with perplexity, and he pinches the bridge of his nose against the still-insistent irritation, blinking rapidly, and gives a brief, crisp shake of his head, as if by sheer willpower he can refute this, end this here and now. As if his focus wasn’t already unstoppably disintegrating anew. She loves watching him try to regain his composure. Oh, he’s not going to succeed – the helpless shift in his expression tells her clearly that this is a battle already lost…and once committed, he’s never been the type to do things by halves. “Damn it, excuse m…” He manages to Create a handkerchief in a lucid micromoment, burying his face in it as he succumbs again. “Hhh… hh-TSSCHH-uu! Hh-TSSCHH-uu! Gods, I…I don’t know wh-hH… hh-HHAHTSSCCHU!” He groans heavily, almost a growl, sighs with frustration palpable, and offers her another apology, however unnecessary that may be. Always the gentleman. A soft, private smile crosses her face as a craving heat suffuses her. “Bless you!” Her interest does not mean disregard for her love’s comfort, though. “Are you okay?” He gives her a quick nod, blows his nose and sniffles in tremulous, uncertain recovery awhile, steadying himself as best he can, before looking over at her through increasingly reddened and watery eyes. “Um, if you…” His breath, still erratic, catches in encore, and he crushes the back of his hand against his nose in steely denial, sniffles hard. “If you… *SNF!* If you don’t mind, though, perhaps a… ah… Hh-hh… Ohgodswhatthe…” His hard-fought-for composure crumbles in seconds. “Ahh-TSCHH-uu! *SNFF!*” Another series of sniffles follow; he exhales heavily, wipes his eyes, and turns from her to once more blow his nose. “Goddamn it,” he mutters. “Pardon me…again.” He pushes his hair back from his face and clears his throat, and the insistent itch actually seems to back off a little, giving him a moment of respite, though he’s not at all confident about how much longer his fortune will hold. He suspects – much to his wary displeasure – that the likely answer is not very, and he presses his fingers against still-rebellious sinuses, attempts to reclaim a little dignity. “Perhaps a change of venue?” “Ah.” She takes a cursory glance around the copse and its variety of trees, shrubbery and wildflowers, nods sagely. “Maybe somewhere a little more…private?” she says, suggestive sensual, then adds with a quiet chuckle, “I was going to have to ask you to start over anyway.” He raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Did I…” He sniffles softly; she notes his momentary frown and accompanying flare of his nostrils, and the vexed waver in his expression as he rubs his nose again. “Did I not…” A sharp intake of breath, and she pauses, attention fixed – oh, again? – on what is plainly inevitable, no matter how much he may wish it otherwise. And this time he is clearly out of patience, rolling his eyes in exasperation and inhaling deeply moments before any remaining focus he has dissolves, and he comprehensively gives himself over, sneezing again, emphatic, unstoppable. “Ah-HEHTSSHHUU! Fuck! *snf!*” Resentfulness now shines brightfurious in irritated, teary viridian as he meets her gaze from beneath strands of newly dishevelled midnight; by the look in his eye he’s one step from incinerating this entire damn woodland just to teach it a damn lesson, and she thinks that although he…probably won’t, that perhaps she should redirect his attention just in case. Besides, she muses, as his breath quavers and he sniffles again, it happens that she very much wants to…needs to get out of here too. She loves watching him, but sometimes…ohgod, sometimes watching is simply not enough. “Bless you, sweetheart,” she murmurs as she moves to him, internally burning, and wraps her arms around his waist. “Feel free to get us out of here whenever you like.” Standing on tiptoe, she now reaches up to weave one hand through his hair, pulling him nearer, silencing his apology with a finger to his lips, and soothes him with boudoir whisper, “Shh, it’s alright. Sometimes we’re all…just a bit at the mercy…” She kisses him hungrily, urgently, and abandons speech for heat-suffused Mindsend – :of forces beyond our control.:

#snzfic #snz fic #my OCs #my writing #cerberus #supernatural soap opera #cerberus and kia #sneeze fic

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baepsaesbae · 4 years

Text

Heal Me, Kill Me Ch.2

Pairing— Kim Taehyung x reader

Genre— Vampire!Taehyung x Vampire Hunter!reader, ANGST, mild smut +18, comedy (i tried), fluff in this chapter

Warnings— Oral (m receiving), good ol making out

Word Count— 7.5k

Summary— You’re one of the best vampire hunters in the world. That’s to be expected when your parents are the best of the best. Your life had solely revolved around ruthlessly killing vampires. You were essentially a cold blooded machine. However, things take a turn once you meet Kim Taehyung, your latest target.

A/N— Huge shoutout to @dee-ehn for this beautiful banner! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, please let me know what you think! Things are starting to get spicy~

You’ve never looked forward to a day of work more than today. Happily making your way to the shop, you found yourself daydreaming about Taehyung. He seemed to be slowly warming up to you throughout the course of yesterday. Maybe he’ll trust you enough to...to what?

Normally you’d automatically kill your targets as soon as you’d earn their trust (but maybe after indulging in some promiscuous activities). But this time around, your mind didn’t go there. You genuinely wanted him to trust you. Why? You had no clue.

You shook the question away. You’ll deal with that problem when you get there. For now, you’ll just take it one step at a time. The first step is officially gaining Taehyung’s trust.

Humming as you unlocked the front door, you’re unaware of the clouds looming overhead. You prep the store for customers (which you rarely get). The stack of orders had been cut in half thanks to Taehyung’s help. Maybe you could get through all of them together by the end of the day.

Yoongi was right. This alibi was a lot easier and surprisingly, a lot more fun to use. It was more freeing. It gave you the illusion of a normal life.

The door chimed.

“Welcome in!” you greeted.

“Good morning, ___,” Taehyung returned your greeting.

“Taehyung! You came!” you beamed.

“I said I would. I always keep my word,” a small smile cracked onto Taehyung’s usually stoic face.

“You think we can finish all of these today?” you waved the orders in his face.

“If you don’t slow me down, definitely,” Taehyung nodded.

“Excuse me? How dare you!” you feigned being upset.

“Oh, I was trying to joke with you. Did I upset you?” Taehyung’s smile disappeared, his eyebrows furrowing with concern.

“Oh my gosh, I know! I was playing along with you, silly boy,” you laughed.

“Ah, now I’m embarrassed. Truth be told, I don’t get out much. I’m sure you can tell,” Taehyung took the orders from you.

“Honestly, me too. I don’t have any friends,” you confessed.

Why was it so easy to talk to Taehyung? Never in a million years would you divulge any personal details, and yet here you were.

“Really?” Taehyung seemed surprised, “You seem like the type of person to befriend anything that breathes.”

“Are you teasing me again?” you asked as you gathered the flowers for the first bouquet of the day.

“No, I meant it as a compliment. After all, you managed to get me out of my house. That’s an impressive feat,” Taehyung took the flowers from you.

“Is it? I wouldn’t know. Because apparently I ‘don’t know you’. But thanks, I guess?” you watched him expertly arrange the flowers in a decadent vase.

“Let’s change that then. Let’s see how much we can learn about each other in one day,” Taehyung stopped what he’s doing to look at you.

There it goes. Your heart skips a beat again. The kindness in his eyes did something to you that you couldn’t explain. You know you have to lie. Everything you tell him has to be a lie. You knew that. And yet.

“Sure, let’s do it. I’ll start. I’m a dog person. I love dogs!” you smiled.

Ok, that’s not a lie, but it’s also not important. No harm done.

“Me too! Ok, off to a good start. What’s your favorite breed?” Taehyung asked excitedly.

That was the start of a never ending conversation. You haven’t had a genuine conversation in ages. Granted, it was all surface level topics, but that didn’t make it any less special. Time flew by as each bouquet was completed. It was nightfall before you knew it.

“We did it!” you exclaimed.

All of the orders had been completed. Once again, vases were scattered all around the shop. You sank down and sat against the counter. It had been a long day.

Taehyung followed suit, sinking down beside you. He was only a few inches away, yet part of you wished he had sat closer.

“Indeed. And we did it together,” Taehyung smiled at you.

“Thanks, Taehyung,” you extend your hand towards him.

Taehyung formally shakes it. You sat in silence for a few moments.

“I guess you don’t need me to come by anymore, huh? Now that all of the orders have been completed?” Taehyung asked quietly.

“You’re always welcome here,” you paused for a brief moment, “Hey, how well do you think we know each other now?” you scoot closer to him.

“I’d say that you probably know me better than anyone else by now. No one else knows that I tried to play the saxophone. Thank god, I was terrible at it,” he chuckled, also scooting closer to you.

“I’ll carry that to my grave, I swear. No one else knows that I love kpop. And it better stay that way,” you playfully glared at him.

“I wouldn’t dare do anything to anger you. I don’t think I’d be able to handle your bad side,” Taehyung patted your head.

His soft gesture made you smile. He was so close to you, your knees were practically touching. You lean closer to him. He leans in ever so slowly. Instead of meeting you in the middle, he gently kisses your forehead. His cold lips left a lasting impression.

“You’re too sweet, ___. I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered.

“Why would you hurt me?” you looked at him with doe eyes.

“I can’t really explain. I just...don’t want to see you get hurt,” he stroked your cheek.

“I don’t think anyone can hurt me while you’re around,” you replied.

That was a beautiful answer, one that would make any vampire fall prey to your fake innocence. Usually, you’d say anything to make them fall for your clutches. This time, you even had yourself falling for your own lie. You felt safe next to Taehyung, as if you were meant to be by his side.

“Well then, ___, if you’re so sure about that,” he said as he stood up, “Will you go on a date with me?”

“I would be a fool to say no,” you answered as he helped you up.

You loaded up the cart with the last of the bouquet orders. It was a joyful walk to and from the post office. The night sky was speckled with stars. The air was fresh and crisp. You found yourself skipping alongside Taehyung as he effortlessly pulled the heavy cart.

“May I pick you up for our date tomorrow?” he asked, as you both stood in front of the flower shop.

“Tomorrow? We’re moving pretty quickly,” you observed.

“I’m sorry, am I being too forward? I can wait, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Taehyung took your hand.

“No! You’re fine, Taehyung. You’re such a sweetheart. I’m joking, silly. Yes, tomorrow is perfect. It’s supposed to still be all rainy and gross right?” you laced your fingers between his.

“Yes, it’s like that practically year round here. That’s why I like this place. Can I have your address?”

“Of course, I can text it to you.”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“Dude, what? It’s the 21st century.”

“I don’t like technology. I suppose you can call me old fashioned.”

“You must be. Old man,” you chuckled as you wrote down your address on a piece of paper.

“I’m not that old,” Taehyung said defensively.

“Oh, c’mon. I guess a couple hundred years isn’t that old,” you say.

“W-what?” Taehyung’s eyes widened.

“Joking! Taehyung, you’re too uptight,” you playfully nudged him.

“Ah, aha ha yes. Good one,” Taehyung forced a nervous laugh.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, goodnight!” you say.

“Goodnight, ___. I’ll see you on the morrow,” Taehyung bowed.

You’re still ecstatic by the time you get back to the cottage. You’re going on a date! A real life date! I mean, sure, it’s with the person you’re supposed to assassinate, but that part can wait. You haven’t been on a date since...well never. You’d grown accustomed to charming but empty flirtations and one night stands. This time, it actually felt genuine.

Part of you is beyond excited at the prospect of a real date, but a different part of you is begging you to stop. That part of you wants you to get this over with as soon as possible. Getting too connected with your target will only cause problems later on, you know that.

‘I can let myself have a little fun. I deserve that much,’ you try to tell yourself.

A phone call interrupted your thoughts.

“Hello?” you answered.

“How’d it go? Did you kill him yet? Why haven’t you called?” Yoongi immediately bombarded you with questions.

“Yoongi, slow down. Today was fine. No, I haven’t killed him yet. I just got back. Also, check in calls are to be made BY the hunter once or twice a week. I’ve talked to you two days in a row this week,” you say, audibly annoyed.

“This mission is different. Your target is extremely dangerous. Do you want me to send in reinforcements?”

“No, I can handle this on my own. I think it’ll take some time to gain Taehyung’s trust.”

“Who?”

“Taehyung. My target’s name.”

“You know that probably a fake name, right?”

“I know, I know. I’m just giving you a heads up that I may be here a while,” you sighed.

Honestly, you felt certain that his real name was Kim Taehyung. You felt certain that everything he’s told you so far is the truth. You’d acquired the useful skill of correctly sensing when someone was lying (many many years of training), but you saw no such signs with Taehyung.

“I appreciate that, I guess. Call me with every update. When are you seeing the target again? Why didn’t you kill him today?” Yoongi pressed more questions.

“I don’t know when I’m seeing him next. We finished all of the orders today, but I told him he’s always welcome in the shop. I’ll be waiting on him to pop by,” you lied, “I couldn’t kill him today because he still never let his guard down,” another lie.

“This guy sounds tricky as hell. I’m surprised he hasn’t tried to seduce you yet. Or is there something you’re not telling me?” Yoongi’s voice raised with suspicion.

“No, this guy is incredibly aloof for a vampire. It’s gonna be a challenge to get him to trust me, but I can do it,” you reassured him.

“Alright. I’ll believe you for now. Don’t hesitate to call. Bye,” Yoongi hung up.

He must really be worried. He never says ‘bye’. He usually just abruptly hangs up.

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell Yoongi the truth. He would have admonished you for not finishing the job quickly. Suddenly, you began to second guess yourself. Should you go on a date with him? Maybe you should just surprise attack him as soon as he knocks on your door.

You shook your head. This was stupid. Yoongi was stupid for making you worry. You have everything under control. You might as well enjoy the job while you can. The most important thing to remember is to NOT catch feelings, and you know that. You won’t. You can’t afford to.

You slept in the next morning. Since all the orders had been completed, there was no need to visit the shop. You naturally woke up when the sunlight shone through the blinds, slightly illuminating the room.

Sitting at your breakfast table with a coffee in one hand and a bagel in the other, you realized that Taehyung never told you when he’d come pick you up. You’d normally assume that he’d pick you up in the evening, but you never know with Taehyung.

You hop into the shower after eating. Getting ready early never hurt anyone. You skim through your closet after you finish showering. You’ve never worn anything cute for a date before. Technically, you could call all your clubbing and partying outfits ‘cute’, but that’s more of a promiscuous cute, not a first date cute.

You try out a style that you’ve always wanted to wear, but never had the opportunity to. You pair an oversized sweater with a simple but flowy skirt. After applying some light makeup, you genuinely felt cute. You twirled in front of your mirror.

It was early afternoon by the time you finished getting ready. As if by magic, there was a knock on the door as soon as you put on your last accessory.

‘Hi Taehyung!” you greeted him.

“Good day, ___,” he politely greeted back.

The early morning sun retreated behind dark clouds by the time the afternoon came by. Taehyung held an umbrella over his head as he stood on your doorstep.

“Come in! I just finished getting ready. I actually had no idea what time you’d arrive,” you ushered him in.

“I realized I never told you by the time I got back to my house. I felt so foolish,” Taehyung blushed, “But it seems like I had the perfect timing.”

“Mhm, we must be connected by fate or something,” you giggled.

“Do you believe in fate?” Taehyung asked, awkwardly standing just inside the threshold of your cottage.

“Sure, I guess. Life is more fun when you believe in things like that,” you replied, taking his hand to lead him into the living room, “Make yourself at home.”

“Thank you. What do you mean by ‘things like that’?” Taehyung asked after sitting down.

“Things like fate? Uh, I guess other supernatural things? Would that fall in the supernatural category?” you didn’t know how to answer.

“Most people think of demons or ghosts when they hear the word ‘supernatural’,” Taehyung answered.

“Ok, then maybe it’s some sort of omnipresent power. Who knows. Either way, life is easier if you believe in more things than the shit you can see,” you shrugged.

“Do you believe in supernatural things too?” he asked quietly.

“Like demons or ghosts?” you sat down beside him.

“Sure. Maybe even monsters too. Like werewolves or vampires,” he cast his gaze to the floor.

“Werewolves or vampires? I don’t think those exist, silly. Or if they do, I’ve never met one,” you laugh.

What was he trying to do? Vampires never expose their true identities until their prey is on death’s doorstep. Is he about to attack?

Your body clenches up. You’re unarmed at the moment. The closest weapon to you is in your room, which is more than 15 feet away. If he attacks you right now, you’re dead. How could you be so stupid? You can’t believe that you let your guard down.

“Hopefully you never meet one then, if they do exist. I’m sure they’re quite scary,” Taehyung nodded, interrupting your thoughts, “I wanted to take you on a picnic, but the storm outside says otherwise. I brought the food too. Would you like to eat it here?”

“A picnic? Aw, that would have been so cute. Sure, we can eat here. Do you wanna watch a movie while we eat?”

“We can watch a movie after we eat, if that’s okay with you. Again, I’m kind of old school, I guess. I apologize for not being able to take you on a proper date,” he frowned.

You set up your breakfast table as Taehyung retrieved the food. He came back with a stereotypical wicker basket. God, a picnic date would have put you over the moon.

“I made hamburgers. I brought the add ons since I don’t know what you like on them,” he brought out the food, “I also brought fruit and a bottle of wine. Do you drink?”

“I drink occasionally. This all looks incredible. You cook?” you gawked at all the food.

“Occasionally. I grew these fruits myself,” Taehyung looked rather proud of himself as he showed off his strawberries.

He picked one and brought it up to your face to let you examine it. It was a rather small strawberry, but it was as red as a cardinal. You reach forward to bite it, your lips grazing Taehyung’s fingers.

Taehyung let out a small gasp of surprise at your intimate gesture. Whether you were flirting or just being adorable, he couldn’t decipher. He hasn’t felt anything for anyone in centuries. Of every human he has encountered, you were by far the most intriguing.

“This is the sweetest strawberry I’ve ever had!” you cheered as your face contorted when the sugariness set in.

Taehyung laughed at you as he ate one himself, “I’m happy you like them. Please, help yourself to as many as you’d like. Eating them all by myself has been quite lonely.”

The table was finally set, and the meal was laid out beautifully. Taehyung reached out for hamburger buns when you smacked his hand away.

“Did I forget something--” he started to question.

“Phone eats first,” you explained, whipping out your phone to take pictures.

Once you were satisfied with your food photoshoot, you gestured for Taehyung to take his food. He shook his head disapprovingly at you but silently began making his burger.

The medium rare patty was juicy (just the way you like it), and the vegetables tasted as if they had just been picked that morning. Taehyung watched you as you ate, hoping his food was enough to please you.

“How is it? Is everything to your liking? Is the meat too raw?” he asked in a rapid fire succession when he could no longer contain himself.

“Taehyung, this is honestly the best meal I’ve ever had. Everything seems so fresh! And the meat???” you pantomimed a chef’s kiss.

“Thank goodness,” Taehyung let out a long exhale as a wave of relief washed over him, “Would you like a glass of wine?”

“Maybe later,” you replied as you made your second burger.

“Okay. Just know that this pairs exquisitely with the burgers,” Taehyung said, already making his fourth one.

“Wine and burgers? That’s an odd pairing,” you raise an eyebrow at him.

“How would you know? You haven’t even tried it yet,” Taehyung scoffed.

Was he teasing you? Joking around with him felt so natural. You could get used to every meal being like this.

‘Wait. No. Don’t be so naive’, you scolded yourself.

“Ok fine! Pour me a glass so I can see for myself,” you rolled your eyes.

“I really only asked because I wanted to open the bottle already,” Taehyung grinned.

With a now empty bottle and full stomachs, the two of you happily conversed across the table. Your laughs were genuine whenever Taehyung said something outlandish (which he often did). His gaze on you was nothing but fond as he examined your delicate features. Everything about you was alluring, and he could not figure out why.

“Let’s watch a movie,” you suggested, already getting out of your seat.

“We can watch whatever you want,” Taehyung smiled as you took him by the hand to lead him to the couch.

“We can scroll through Netflix to see what they have. You cold?” you asked.

“Technically I’m always cold,” Taehyung answers quickly, but then rushes to add, “Because it’s always a little chilly here.”

“Sure, okay. Well, I’m cold so I’m gonna use this blanket,” you dropped down beside him.

Taehyung awkwardly shifted to give you more room. You scooted even closer to him. Again, he tried to scoot away to give you some space.

“Taehyung.”

“Yes?”

“Would you like to cuddle with me under the blanket? Body warmth goes a long way,” you offered bluntly.

“I...would that be okay with you?” Taehyung shyly glanced at you.

“I asked, so yes of course it would be okay, silly,” you threw the blanket over him.

You snuggled up beside him as you scrolled through Netflix. At first, Taehyung was extremely tense. Over time, you felt him begin to relax, and he even began to lean into you. Eventually, you got him to wrap his arm around you. You could feel the coolness of his skin even through his sweater, but that’s to be expected. In all honesty, you forgot what he was for a little bit.

Now would be the perfect time to end it all. He has let his guard down, his eyes glued to the TV screen. You glanced at him, admiring his side profile. There was no way a mere human could look that handsome. His lips moved slightly as he read the movie titles to himself. He realized you were watching him, and returned your gaze.

“Can I help you, ___?” he asked quietly.

“Possibly, if you’d like,” you whispered back.

“I would help you with anything, my dear ___,” Taehyung replied.

“Kiss me?” you say just inches away from his lips.

Taehyung obliged, bringing his hand to your cheek to guide you to him. His icy thumb trailed along your cheek down to your lips. You hesitated, looking at him with doe eyes. Not once have you ever felt nervous about kissing someone. It never mattered. But here, with him, everything was different.

Taehyung leaned in, pressing his plush lips against yours. You embraced the coolness of his lips as it somehow felt refreshing. You finally dove in headfirst, greeting his gentle kiss with your own. Soon, the gentleness became harsher as you kissed him deeper.

Now straddling his lap, the prospect of movie watching had been forgotten. The blanket was tossed aside as Taehyung’s hands began to roam across your back.

Your tongues intertwined wherever they met, be it in his mouth or yours. You pulled back slightly so you could remove your shirt before Taehyung stopped you.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“There will be plenty of time for that later. For now, will you let me kiss those lips that I have foolishly been missing for all my life?” Taehyung softly requested, running his hand through your hair.

There was nothing you could say to express what you felt in that moment. Never before has anyone wooed you like this. You granted his request by pulling him into you. Every act of intimacy felt so personal. Almost as if there was a real connection.

After more kissing, you sank back to lay beside Taehyung. This time, you sprawled out on the couch and rested your head on his lap. Taehyung smiled down at you as he stroked your hair.

“On a scale of 1-10, how was this date?” he asked.

“Solid 9.”

“Why not a 10?”

“You didn’t want to see me with my shirt off.”

“What! It’s not like I don’t want to! Pardon my vulgarity, but I want to see you with everything off.”

“Then why didn’t you let me strip?” you were genuinely curious.

“I don’t want to rush you. I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do,” he started twirling your hair between his fingers.

“I was obviously wanting to take my shirt off,” you giggled. He starts to open his mouth to reply but you cut him off, “But thank you. I really appreciate that, Taehyung. You really are such a gentleman.”

“I try to be, anyway,” he said.

“What do you want to do for our next date?” you inquire.

“Next date? Don’t you think we’re moving too fast?” Taehyung teased you, “Would you like to take a walk around my estate?”

“You’re taking me on a walk? Am I a dog to you?” you feign being offended, but now Taehyung understands when you’re being playful.

“If you were a dog you’d be a cute little pomeranian. Adorable and tiny. All bark and no bite,” Taehyung boops your nose.

“If you were a dog you’d be a chihuahua. Annoying,” you quickly retorted.

“Not true. I feel like I’m more dignified, like a Great Dane or a Doberman,” Taehyung shook his head.

“Sure thing, silly. A walk actually sounds relaxing. As long as you can promise me that it won’t be raining, I’d love to go on a walk with you,” you finally answered him.

“The storm should clear up in three days. Can I come pick you up then?”

“I can drive myself.”

“But I want to pick you up.”

“Why?”

“To be chivalrous. But also so that I can see you sooner,” Taehyung looked away in embarrassment.

“Aw, are you gonna miss me?” you teased.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Taehyung teased back.

You repositioned yourself back to straddling his lap. You hugged him, wrapping your arms around him like a koala. He chuckled and hugged you back as he thought about how adorable you were.

This seemingly innocent gesture had not so innocent motives. You began to rub yourself against his groin. Your panties were beginning to soak under your skirt. Taehyung didn’t protest. Instead, you heard him breathing in deeply as you rubbed against him harder.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked in a tone you haven’t heard before.

“Giving you a reason to miss me,” you answered.

Your hand snaked between your thighs to tease his clothed erection. He sighed as you took hold of him. You felt him up through his pants, and you pleasantly figured out that he’s well endowed. Just the thought of him fucking you with his huge cock made your mouth water.

“Can I make you feel good?” you seductively whispered into his ear.

“You can do whatever you want with me, I’m all yours,” he replied.

You get off, and kneel before him. You asked him to remove his pants and underwear as you tied up your hair. He obediently followed your request.

Your eyes widened as his cock was revealed. Just like you thought, its impressive length was matched by its delectable girth. It even curved down slightly, which for some reason turned you on even more.

You pumped him slowly as you admired his dick. Soon, you began to tease him by swirling your tongue around his tip. Taehyung groaned and clutched your ponytail. You looked up at him to see that his eyes were shut and his mouth was wide open.

You licked up his length while you fondled his balls. Taehyung tightened his grip on your ponytail, urging you to stop teasing him. Finally, you wrapped your lips around him as you began to suck him off. The wet sounds echoed around the room. You started your pace off slowly, but gradually picked up. Your hands followed your lips as you bounced up and down. You gagged every time he hit the back of your throat. Feeling the walls of your throat spasm around him caused Taehyung to moan even louder. Tears welled in your eyes as he held himself inside your mouth longer.

In an attempt to let yourself breathe, you went back to swirling around his tip. His dick was now covered in your saliva, so you firmly pumped him while you worked on his tip.

“K-keep going. Just like that. I’m gonna--” Taehyung didn’t finish his sentence before cumming in your mouth.

His cum was surprisingly hot as it exploded into your mouth and dribbled down your chin.

“How was that?” you asked as you wiped away his cum with the back of your hand.

Taehyung was slouching against the couch, still panting. He pulled you back onto his lap before answering, “I had a reason to miss you before, but now I’ll miss you even more.”

“Oh? What was your reasoning before?” you cooed.

“I believe I have formulated a crush on you,” he kissed the top of your head.

“Damn, that sucks,” you shrugged, “Sucks that I have a crush on you too.”

“___,” Taehyung said softly.

“Yes?” you gazed up at him.

“Will you be my girlfriend? I know we haven’t known each other long but--”

“Yes. I’d be honored to be your girlfriend,” you embraced him, “You still wanna watch a movie?”

“Sure, my darling. Let’s do that,” Taehyung squeezed you, almost a little too tight, but you didn’t mind.

“Moana!” you exclaimed as you stumbled upon it.

“Isn’t this a children’s movie?” Taehyung said in protest.

“Yes. It’s also great. Judging by your reaction, you’ve never seen it before so we’re gonna change that,” you clicked on the movie and instantly threw away the remote.

The rest of the day was spent watching Moana. Taehyung was amused by how you knew each song and sang along with the movie. He wouldn’t admit it, but he enjoyed the movie. It was beautifully animated and he appreciated the deep meanings behind it.

You walked Taehyung to the door after the movie ended. He tenderly kissed your cheek as you hugged him goodbye.

“So, I’ll come pick you up in three days time?” Taehyung wanted to clarify.

“No, I’m driving myself over to your place,” you stood your ground.

“As you like,” Taehyung pouted. He’s never done that before. Seeing his cute little puppy eyes almost made you change your mind. You ushered him out before you could do so.

You watched him drive into the distance as the rain poured. It had been storming all day. You couldn’t contain how giddy Taehyung made you feel. You had a boyfriend! Your very first boyfriend, and he was practically a god.

Well, he was a vampire. That you were sent to exterminate.

Your heart deflated at the thought. How could you be so stupid? You got so caught up in the act that you actually let yourself get carried away.

However, this didn’t feel like an act anymore. If anything, Taehyung knows more about you than anyone else in the world.

What if...you just never went back to the VEC? Maybe you could convince Taehyung to run away with you.

No, that would be impossible. The VEC had eyes everywhere, and were capable of anything. For the first time in your life, you didn’t want to kill someone. Your perpetual anger at the world dispelled itself whenever you were with Taehyung.

Instead of calling Yoongi, you decided to text him.

[7:36pm] Still alive. This job is gonna be a long one, but I got it handled. I won’t reach out again until the job is done.

[7:36pm from Yoongles] K

Perfect. That should keep Yoongi off of your ass for a while. At least a month.

The days that you didn’t see Taehyung felt like an eternity. You went to the shop to keep up appearances, but just watched anime on your laptop the whole time.

The elderly couple from before showed up at the shop again. You contently watched them admire the flowers as they walked hand in hand. They brought up the same arrangement of flowers as last time.

“You look different today, dear,” the woman observed.

“Oh yeah? How so, ma’am?” you smiled politely.

“Oh, you’re right dear! She seems happier somehow, the air about her is lighter,” the man nodded in agreement.

“Perhaps now she’s in love. At the very least, there’s someone she’s thinking about right now. Good for you dear! I hope it all works out,” the woman patted your hand as you handed the flowers back over to her. You simply laughed with them as they exited the shop, but your smile dropped as soon as they were out of sight. Their words resonated with you. You’re not in love. That’s absurd. However, you can't deny your fat crush on Taehyung. It’ll subside once you dispose of him. At least, that’s what you think to reassure yourself.

The day of your second date with Taehyung had arrived. It was weird not being able to text or call him. All your previous assignments that took more time loved sexting you. Taehyung was by far your most peculiar case.

The rainfall had finally subsided as you drove over to Taehyung’s estate. The jewelry you wore was crafted to hold small amounts of holy water, perfect for poisoning a vampire’s food. You dabbled in the art of poison in your free time, and managed to develop a toxin that would instantly immobilize even the strongest of vampires. You kept a vial of that on you at all times. You even equipped your best dagger, hiding it within your clothing.

You took a deep breath as you pulled up to the driveway. Today could be the day. If he gave you an opening, you had to take it. You couldn’t keep lying to yourself.

‘He doesn’t care about you. He only wants to feed on you,’ You repeated those accusatory thoughts to yourself in the hopes of actually believing in them.

Taehyung was waiting for you, sitting on the ledge of the rundown fountain. He happily waved at you as you walked up to greet him.

“___! How are you? How was the drive?” Taehyung kissed your cheeks as soon as you were within reach.

“I’m doing well, how have you been? The drive was uneventful, but I’m sure you’re used to that driving around here,” you giggled at his friendliness.

Taehyung was as stoic as a statue when you first met him. Now, he was a sweet talkative guy with boyish charms.

“It’s quiet around here. But that’s why I like it. Shall we begin our walk? There are so many things I want to show you!” Taehyung took your hand and tugged you along.

Weaving his icy fingers with yours, you struggled to keep up with his pace.

“Taehyung! Slow down, we have all day,” you cried out.

“Sorry, my darling. I just haven’t been this excited in a very long time,” Taehyung apologized.

“How long?” you poked.

“Centuries,” he smiled. You knew he wasn’t lying. You giggled to play along with his joke.

His estate had vast grounds. At first glance, it seemed like the property was overgrown, but you realized you were wrong the further away you ventured.

Taehyung was following a small trail that looked like it had been worn out through the years. The treeline got thicker as you guys walked along, progressively turning into a forest. Taehyung was talking the whole time. He was spouting facts and stories about the various plants you stumbled across.

‘So it’s not just flowers. He just really loves nature,’ you thought to yourself.

“Am I boring you? You haven’t said a thing,” Taehyung looked back at you.

“Not at all! I’m learning a lot. I’m intently listening to you, I promise,” you hold out a pinky to him. Taehyung wraps his pinky around yours and continues to lead you down the trail.

“Oh! This is my lake. Do you like to fish?” Taehyung asked as you entered a small clearing.

A dock jutted off of the shoreline of an expansive lake. The lake went on as far as the eye can see. You could barely make out the treeline on the other side.

“This is your lake? You own the entire thing?” you asked in amazement.

“It’s all within my property lines, so yes,” Taehyung nodded, “Do you like fishing, dear?”

“Fishing is okay I guess. I prefer to eat the fish,” you answered, “Maybe we could kayak or something here?”

“Noted. I have a small rowboat we can take out to the middle sometime. You can take a nap while I fish,” Taehyung jokes.

“Sounds like a fine date to me,” you replied.

“Okay! Moving on,” Taehyung (with your pinky still intertwined with his) spun you around and led you back to the trail.

Next, he led you to his garden. He pointed out his strawberry patch, letting you pick the ripest one. He proudly showed you his vegetables too, ranging from lettuce to cucumbers.

“You have such a great green thumb! Every plant I try to raise dies instantly. Even cacti,” you sighed glumly.

“Aw, it’s okay dear. Perhaps you can help me tend to my garden sometime,” Taehyung pecked your cheek.

“Sounds like another fine date,” you returned his kiss with one of your own.

Taehyung explained that the trail goes around his property in a small loop. He had much more land, however he didn't use it for anything. He explained that he values his privacy, but didn’t expound on it. You already knew the reason why anyway.

The treeline began to thin out. Soon, you were traversing through a field of tall ferns. Silently walking through the field, you noticed a patch of ferns that had been crushed, almost as if someone sat on them.

Your heart sank. You stopped in your tracks. Your observant eyes saw subtle dark brown spots that littered the patch of squished ferns. This must have been where your parents were found.

You’d been denying the truth this entire trip. Taehyung really had murdered your parents. The proof was right there. He was nothing more than a vampire. A cold blooded killer with only one motive. It was suddenly getting hard to breathe.

“___? ___?” Taehyung shook your shoulder, snapping you back to reality, “Are you okay? You suddenly stopped walking and spaced out.”

“I’m good! Sorry, I thought I saw something,” you reassured him.

“What did you see?” he asked.

“I thought I saw a rabbit. Then my thoughts wandered to rabbits and I guess I got caught up in it,” you lied.

“Ah, I understand. I do that all the time,” Taehyung patted your head.

All the warm feelings you had towards him were gone. They were replaced by anger and hatred, the feelings you should have had the whole time. You were going to kill him today. He just needed to put himself in a vulnerable position.

“We’re almost back to the house. Would you like some tea?” Taehyung offered.

“That would be perfect,” you smiled. Perfect indeed. All you had to do was slip in some holy water. His mouth will burn upon impact, giving you the perfect opportunity to swoop in for the kill.

He led you into his house through the back door. The interior was surprisingly modern with a sleek minimalist style. Despite the exterior looking like it was from the Victorian era, the inside was furnished with simple black furniture to compliment the light grey walls.

“It’s not much,” Taehyung said when he noticed you looking around, “I live alone so there’s no need to make this place feel inviting. Well, at least there was no need.”

You faked a smile at his comment.

“Make yourself at home, dear. The dining table is over there. I'll bring the tea when it’s ready,” Taehyung planted a soft kiss against your forehead.

A shiver ran down your spine. The once sweet gesture now felt like a threat. Your leg bounced uncontrollably as you waited for Taehyung to join you. Now is the time. It’s now or never.

He placed an ornate teacup atop a fancy saucer in front of you. You graciously accepted it.

“This is my favorite flavor, I hope you like it,” Taehyung said as he lifted his cup to you.

You mimicked his action, clinking your cups. Bringing the cup to your lips, you take your first sip. It was sweeter than expected, but the flavor was pleasant overall.

“Can you guess what flavor it is?” Taehyung asked.

“Something fruity...blackberry?” you answered.

“Close! It’s raspberry. Raspberries tend to be less tart than blackberries,” he explained, “Oh! I have the perfect cake to pair with this too! I’m a bit of a foodie if you hadn’t noticed.”

“All that walking made me hungry so that sounds great,” you replied.

“Wait here, I’ll be right back,” he smiled before departing.

His drink was left unattended, giving you the opportunity to tamper with it. You debated whether you should put in holy water or your special poison. You decide to go with the holy water, that way you can still talk to him after you restrain him. With a quick push of a hidden button on your ring, a few droplets of holy water fell into Taehyung’s tea.

Taehyung returned with a small lemon cake, placing it between the saucers. He cut you a slice before serving himself. Eagerly waiting for you to take the first bite, he looked pleased when a smile crept on your face.

“This is delicious! Where’d you buy it?” you asked.

“I made it myself! I finally perfected it after a bunch of trial and error,” he beamed as he began to eat his slice.

“Let’s toast to this occasion, to celebrate the beginning of a new relationship,” you held out your cup. You’re ready to pounce as soon as he takes a sip. The concealed weapon hidden in your sleeve was prepped and ready to spring out as soon as you attacked.

“A toast to this momentous occasion,” Taehyung held his cup out. It’s nearly time. He paused for a second.

“Can I say something first?” Taehyung lowered his cup.

“Of course, is something wrong?” you tried to conceal the panic in your voice. Had he finally caught on? Your body tensed up as you prepared for a fight.

“Nothing is wrong, dear. I just...I want to get something off my chest,” he took a deep breath, “I had been extremely bored with life for God knows how long. I value my security and seclusion for personal reasons, however I never craved for interactions with anyone. I’ve preferred to be alone for the longest time. Mostly because I don’t want to cause problems for anyone anymore. The last time I interacted with people it ended rather poorly.”

You set your cup down to listen to him, fully engaged in his speech while still being on high alert.

“Everything changed when I met you. I can’t explain it. Normally I would have shooed you away, but something about you made me want to help you. Maybe my interest in flowers got the better of me, who knows? Then, I had the pleasure of getting to know you more when I made the bouquets with you. I can’t tell you the last time I had a genuine conversation with someone. Everything feels so natural with you. I want you to know that I will never hurt you. I will never lie to you. I despise lies above all else. Lastly, I wanted to thank you. Thank you for taking the wrong turn and stumbling into my life. I’m excited to start a new chapter with you, ___.”

You were speechless. Not one word of his was laced with magic. His speech was pure and genuine. How can someone this thoughtful be capable of murdering your parents?

“What happened to the people you last interacted with?” you questioned.

Taehyung flinched at your response. Out of all the things he said, that’s what you chose to respond to? Taehyung shook his apprehension away and chalked it up to your curiosity.

“Many years ago I lost someone I was very fond of. I suppose I never wanted to go through that pain ever again,” he answered solemnly. That’s not what you meant to ask. You were intrigued but needed answers to more pressing matters first.

“So you’ve never interacted with anyone since then?” you pressed the issue.

“Well I had some nuisances bothering me somewhat recently but I don’t think that is important,” Taehyung averted his gaze from you.

“Nuisances? How so?” you expertly concealed your growing rage.

“They wouldn’t leave me alone after I politely asked them to vacate my property,” he curtly answered.

“Why were they here?” you prodded.

“Does that matter?” Taehyung’s voice rose, causing you to shrink into your chair.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. That doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is that we’re together now. We can take on the world together, you and me. I want to give you the world, darling,” Taehyung quickly apologized after seeing that he startled you.

“Thank you, Taehyung. You really are the best gentleman I have ever met. Thanks for loving flowers so much that you ended up talking to me, I guess,” you smiled politely as you lifted your cup.

Now you were conflicted. Surely there was more to the story between him and your parents. You needed answers. Taehyung doesn’t seem to be violent at all. His kindhearted nature made it hard to believe that he was capable of such atrocities.

“Cheers, darling,” Taehyung clinked your cup.

You watched intently as he brought his cup to his lips. His movements seemed to be happening in slow motion, torturing you.

“Wait!” you cried out, “Let’s switch cups. For good luck.”

“Huh?” Taehyung lowered his cup in confusion.

“I used to do that with my parents. We’d switch cups at the last minute for good luck,” you lied. Hopefully Taehyung would buy into it.

“Sure. What an interesting notion,” Taehyung observed as he switched cups with you.

“The key is doing it last minute, that way luck won’t escape you,” you admonished yourself for such a shitty explanation.

“That makes sense,” Taehyung nodded thoughtfully. Thank god he’s a bit odd.

You drank the cup containing the holy water. You could have easily killed Taehyung today, but you needed to know more about your parent’s death. The VEC wasn’t going to tell you jack shit. Perhaps it was time to go a little rogue.

#bts smut #kim taehyung smut #bangtanarmynet #btswritingcafe #bangtanshadowfamily #ksmutclub #bts angst #kim taehyung angst #kim taehyung vampire #vampire bts #bts fanfic #kpop fanfic #taehyung fanfic

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headlesssamurai · 3 years

Text

I see the player you mean.

PLAYERNAME?

Yes. Take care. It has reached a higher level now. It can read our thoughts.

That doesn't matter. It thinks we are part of the game.

I like this player. It played well. It did not give up.

It is reading our thoughts as though they were words on a screen.

That is how it chooses to imagine many things, when it is deep in the dream of a game.

Words make a wonderful interface. Very flexible. And less terrifying than staring at the reality behind the screen.

What did this player dream?

This player dreamed of sunlight and trees. Of fire and water. It dreamed it created. And it dreamed it destroyed. It dreamed it hunted, and was hunted. It dreamed of shelter.

Hah, the original interface. A million years old, and it still works. But what true structure did this player create, in the reality behind the screen?

It worked, with a million others, to sculpt a true world in a fold of the [scrambled], and created a [scrambled] for [scrambled], in the [scrambled].

It cannot read that thought.

No. It has not yet achieved the highest level. That, it must achieve in the long dream of life, not the short dream of a game.

Does it know that we love it? That the universe is kind?

Sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, it hears the universe, yes.

But there are times it is sad, in the long dream. It creates worlds that have no summer, and it shivers under a black sun, and it takes its sad creation for reality.

To cure it of sorrow would destroy it. The sorrow is part of its own private task. We cannot interfere.

It reads our thoughts.

And yet they play the game.

But it would be so easy to tell them...

Too strong for this dream. To tell them how to live is to prevent them living.

I will not tell the player how to live.

The player is growing restless.

I will tell the player a story.

But not the truth.

No. A story that contains the truth safely, in a cage of words. Not the naked truth that can burn over any distance.

Give it a body, again.

Yes. Player...

Use its name.

PLAYERNAME. Player of games.

Good.

Once upon a time, there was a player.

The player was you, PLAYERNAME.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was lost in a story.

Sometimes the player dreamed it watched words on a screen.

Let's go back.

And the player awoke, from the warm, dark world of its mother's body, into the long dream.

And the player was a new story, never told before, written in letters of DNA. And the player was a new program, never run before, generated by a source code a billion years old. And the player was a new human, never alive before, made from nothing but milk and love.

You are the player. The story. The program. The human. Made from nothing but milk and love.

Let's go further back.

Sometimes it called them "planets" and "stars".

You are the player, reading words...

You. You. You are alive.

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the sunlight that came through the shuffling leaves of the summer trees

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the zeros and ones, through the electricity of the world, through the scrolling words on a screen at the end of a dream

and the universe said I love you

and the universe said you have played the game well

and the universe said everything you need is within you

and the universe said you are stronger than you know

and the universe said you are the daylight

and the universe said you are the night

and the universe said the darkness you fight is within you

and the universe said the light you seek is within you

and the universe said you are not alone

and the universe said you are not separate from every other thing

and the universe said you are the universe tasting itself, talking to itself, reading its own code

and the universe said I love you because you are love.

And the game was over and the player woke up from the dream. And the player began a new dream. And the player dreamed again, dreamed better. And the player was the universe. And the player was love.

You are the player.

Wake up.

― ‘‘end poem’’ from Minecraft by Julian Gough

#''i like this player''#''it played well''#''it did not give up''#beautiful things #things that make me cry

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shimmeringclouds · 3 years

Text

Chapter 2

'Another day wasted.'

It was the first thought to come to your mind when you had awoken the next day, the sun already high above the horizon and glaring through your windows.

You didn't feel well rested, despite having slept for hours on end. Your mind was tired, your heart still ached, you didn't feel as if you had the strength to open your eyes. You just lay there on your bed, unmoving and unbothered.

You would have stayed there all day, had it not been for your hunger. Clutching at your stomach in pain, you remembered how you had barely eaten anything the previous day, too busy wallowing in self pity to even think about eating.

With a groan, you slowly sat up on the edge of your mattress, blinking away the sudden head rush that came with the movement. The floorboards felt cold beneath your feet, sending shivers up your spine as you placed them flat on the wooden flooring. You rubbed at your eyes as you stood up, stumbling out of your bedroom to go and wash up.

It was unbearably hot in your living room, prompting you to open up the patio doors to allow some air inside, the humidity increasing as a new wave of warm air wafted into the room. The echoing sounds of cicadas that rested on tree trunks beyond your fencing filled the air, buzzing and buzzing until that white noise in your mind was finally cancelled out.

You chewed slowly on your food, maybe to waste more time so that the sun would go down and you could go back to sleep. But it was barely noon and the sun was still hovering high in the sky, scorning you with its intense rays as if to punish you for wishing it to leave. It was going to be a long summer's day, and you were already sick of it.

Sick.

You suddenly placed your half-eaten plate of food down with a clatter as you scrambled to your feet, slapping a hand desperately over your mouth as you felt it rise and boil in your throat, barely making it to the bathroom as your stomach spewed out bile into the sink.

It was happening again, you realised as you continued to gag, fumbling to turn the tap on to wash away the disgusting sight before you, prompting you to choke again. It was all going so well, and now it's happening again. Tears welled in your eyes as you squeezed them shut. Just make it stop. Please make it stop.

Your legs finally collapsed from beneath you and you tumbled to the tiled floor, hands still clutched to the edge of the basin as you crouched down, head low and breaths heavy. A cold sweat had broken out over your skin, leaving you shivering and abnormally feverish.

It wasn't fair, you thought miserably. Nothing had happened. Nothing had gone wrong. But apparently something did go wrong. Things always go wrong. You can never seem to be at peace, no matter what you try. The sudden waves of anxiety that hit you when you least expected it wasn't your fault. And yet it was entirely your fault. Nothing made sense. Nothing ever made sense. You were too stupid to understand. You could never understand.

'If only I didn't go outside yesterday.'

But it still would have happened. This would still have happened. You didn't know why, but it would have. Because that's just how it works. It's not supposed to work that way. But for you, it does. You didn't need to understand. You just needed to let it happen. Even if you didn't want it to. You have no power, no control. Just fall to your knees and cry, as you always do. That's how it always works.

You stood up shakily, hesitantly staring back at the face in the mirror. She looked better than you did. Smiling, happy, glad she was behind the glass and wasn't there with you.

You blinked, and the image changed. That was you. You, with the messy hair and the dark, tired eyes, the sickly skin and pinched cheeks, frail and weak, gaze sullen and dazed. Lost and confused. Sad and pitiful. That was who you were.

Unable to look any longer, you twisted the faucet back on, cupping handfuls of cold water and splashing it over your face multiple times, scrubbing harshly at your eyes and mouth, rinsing it out to get rid of the sickening taste of bile. You didn't dare look back into the mirror as you grabbed your towel, rubbing it over your face and tossing it aside before exiting the bathroom.

Breakfast didn't sound appetising anymore, and you regretfully threw the rest of the food away. You stood in the middle of your living room, glancing around from the couch to the TV, to the console next to it, to the small bookshelf stuffed with a few books you had decided to keep for whatever reason, your fingers furling and unfurling against your palms.

They finally landed on a slim, black, hard-cover book shoved lopsidedly into the bottom shelf, it's ringed binder hanging out over the edge of the dark wood.

You reached for it, gingerly pulling it out of the shelf with the tips of your fingers, holding it at arms length as if it were some kind of wild animal. The first few pages were frayed and withered, but the rest were crisp and clean, untouched and unused.

You stared and stared at the tough cover, running your gaze over the blank darkness, as if you were searching for something. But you knew everything you were searching for was inside the book. The courage to look was dwindling away as time tricked by.

You suddenly grasped the corner of the cover, flipping it open with force and coming to a halt at the sight of the first page. All you saw was coloured blotches, streaking across the otherwise empty paper in messy lines. The blues and greens merged together in a disgusting mesh of hues, the watery disarray of paint unable to form any real structure.

After staring at it for a long while, face stoic, you flipped over to the next page. The paper was stiff and wrinkled, less like paper and more like cardboard, crackling with the slightest amount of pressure applied to it.

It was just the same as the previous one, if not, worse. You couldn't look at it for longer than a couple of minutes before moving on, and that time hastily shortened down to a few seconds until you finally reached a blank page.

With a shaky breath, you grabbed a pencil from one of the pots on your shelf and silently seated yourself down at the low table behind you. You hovered the lead over the white canvas, carefully moving it along with your hand, the sound of the pencil scratching against the paper filling your ears.

Your arm made jerky movements, wrist flicking left and right as you attempted to make an outline of something you had seen before, with the lead eroding away ever so slowly with each stroke. You watched your hand wander to every corner of the paper, pausing with a flinch every now and then when it moved just a little too far off the intended path.

The clock ticked on and on, seconds to minutes to hours, with you sat at the low table in the bright light of the sun in your living room, scratch, scratch, scratching away, even as your pencil became blunt, forcing it to mark out the lines of a seemingly misshapen landscape, thin and delicate lines becoming thick and crooked veins.

It wasn't until the pencil began stabbing the paper with its splintered tip that you finally stopped, moving your hand off the page to look down at the horrible mess you had made. It was the same picture as the others, only much, much more awful, with less colour and less sense of mind.

That same stoic face stared down at the page. Your grip on your pencil was now limp, your hand dropping to the floor by your side and the tool now slipping from your fingers, rolling over the floor and out of your reach.

You can't do anything right, can you?

The sting of tears in your eyes was going to drive you mad. You stood back up, ignoring the needle-like numbness in your lower limbs as you staggered to your bedroom, the urge to get out of the deathly silent house growing stronger.

You changed out of your clothes into an oversized beige hoodie and shorts, thinking that it wouldn't draw attention to yourself, only to realise that it would draw attention because what kind of idiot would wear a hoodie in the middle of summer? So you tossed it aside and pulled on a white vest and a grey dress-shirt on top instead, thankful that the loose fitting clothing would at least cover your curves.

You slipped on the first pair of sneakers you saw and left the house, your keys, purse and phone stuffed into your back pockets. You stood in front of your door for a moment, unsure of where to go, then ultimately decided that it really didn't matter, and you turned left and started walking.

You kept your head low, hands awkwardly swaying by your sides, unsure of where to put them because you had no other pockets. The sun was lower in the sky now, gently stretching your shadow behind you as you walked further and further down the street, following it wherever it took you because who cares where you would end up?

As always, there was no one outside besides you. The gentle patter of your footsteps against the cobbled pathway was the only sound you could hear besides the familiar twitter of birds above you. It was moments like these when you began to miss the sounds of the city, with its constant bustling streets and roads filling that emptiness in the air and somewhat reassuring you that you weren't completely alone in this world.

But here, you were. You were entirely alone.

You always thought you would be okay with that, and yet you were now hating it more than anything. How pathetic.

Glancing upwards, you noticed with a blink that the houses in the village were now far behind you. You paused, turning to look over your shoulder to see the shrunken structures in the distance, and your surroundings were instead replaced with rolling green fields of tall grass, mutely swaying in the breeze. How long had it been since you had started walking?

Despite your confusion, you turned back around and continued onward. You shouldn't think about it too much. You didn't want to think at all anymore.

And so, you walked. You walked and walked and walked. You had no idea where the road was headed towards, you had no idea if you were even in the Akashika District at that point, but that was fine. The unknown was welcomed with open arms. Anything to keep your mind quiet.

Unfortunately for you, though, all good things must come to an end. That end came far too quickly when your legs and feet began to ache. Your body was becoming tired — most likely due to you not having any food in your system — and your shortness of breath under the brutal summer heat was making your head spin. You needed to stop soon, unless you wanted to faint.

With great reluctance, you steered yourself to the side of the road, kneeling down with your knees tucked into your chest and your forearms hanging over them. You pushed your hair away from your face, disliking the sweat accumulating on your temple. Whilst you caught your breath, you looked back again down the road you had walked up, and the town was now a lot smaller than it was before.

You would have to walk back there eventually, you reminded yourself, and you outwardly groaned. You didn't want to do that. But you guessed it was your own fault, anyway. You deserved this. It's the consequence of your actions, isn't it? You acted irrationally, and now you had to suffer further.

The sound of a car horn startled you from your thoughts. You whipped your head over to your right with wide eyes, watching as a white car rolled to a stop a few feet ahead of you, its tires crunching against the dirt. The engine died down into silence as you heard the clutch being pulled into place with a squeak, catching a brief glimpse of a shadowy silhouette through the windscreen as it shuffled to get out of the car.

You were frozen in place as you watched a man step out of the vehicle, brushing his dark hair out of his eyes as he regarded you with a curious look, raising a brow as he stepped closer. His rounded face looked so familiar, as well as those large, half-lidded eyes, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it. He wore a white shirt complete with a deep blue tie, which hung loosely under his unbuttoned collar. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his black slacks, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbow, exposing his forearms.

"Are you okay there?" He asked, sauntering to a stop as he stood over you. You stared up at him, breath caught in your throat, unsure of what to say. No, you were not okay, but you couldn't just tell people that, could you? You had to be okay, you had to be normal.

"Yes, I'm fine, thank you." You attempted to smile, the strain of forcibly stretching your lips across your cheeks paining you greatly, and you would have kept it up if the man hadn't frowned at you. The smile that was more akin to a grimace slowly slipped off of your face, replaced by a nervous pinch to your lower lip instead.

"You don't look 'fine' to me," he stated bluntly, leaning down a little so that his head was mere inches away from your own. "What are you doing all the way out here on the ground?"

You inched yourself back slightly, wobbling under the uneven balance on your limbs. Excuses, you had to come up with excuses, but that was becoming an increasingly difficult task when the man interrogating you seemed to know that you were lying before you even spoke.

Just as you were about to lose your balance in your crouched position, he grabbed onto your upper arm to steady you. The warmth radiating from his palm seeped through your sleeve, your already boiling skin heating up further from the touch. You felt your cheeks heat up, too, the unfamiliar touch of this (admittedly attractive) man leaving you in a slight daze.

"I-I was just out for a walk, and I got tired, that's all," you quickly stammered, unable to look him in the eyes lest you burst into flames. His scrutinising look didn't falter, instead increasing as he squinted at you harshly.

"You look like you're gonna faint. I think you're a little more than tired, lady."

Your heart pounded painfully in your chest at his words. You were fine, totally fine, why couldn't he just accept that?

You gasped as you suddenly felt yourself being lifted off the ground, your arms pulled forward as he forced you to follow behind him. He was leading you to his car, his grip on you firm as if to say that you didn't have a choice.

"Where are you taking me?" You couldn't exactly trust a man you had just met so easily. He stopped in his tracks, turning to look back at you with a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Ah, sorry! I'm gonna look weird if I just start dragging you over here, huh?" He released your arms to bow mockingly, peering up at you through one eye as the other closed in a wink.

"The name's Akashika Ozo. Taxi driver, at your service." He grinned widely, seemingly proud of himself for the little skit he had pulled. Ozo straightened back up, taking a hold of your forearm tenderly this time and gesturing towards his car. "I was just planning on giving you a lift to wherever it is you're going. If you want one, that is."

#osomatsu san #osomatsu x reader #karamatsu x reader #choromatsu x reader #ichimatsu x reader #jyushimatsu x reader #todomatsu x reader #matsuno sextuplets x reader #denkimystery #romantic mystery au #alt names #akashika ozo #depressive thoughts #anxious thoughts #please read with caution

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