#actually . . . understand and feel comforted by . . . okay that touched my stone-cold heart

[katierosefun]

i am almost done with season one of the boys and it’s so good i want hughie and butcher to make each other go worse. come on hughie i know it’s in there somewhere. go insane little white man. go nuts.

[mc-lukanette]

*crawls over completely exhausted* No Canon Lukanette... Need fluff... maybe salt too...

Luka gave Marinette's parents a smile as he waited for Marinette to come downstairs, though to say he was concerned was an understatement. He and Marinette hadn't been dating for long, but he knew something was wrong due to her song singing even more stress-filled notes than usual. He wanted to talk to her about it, but also wanted her to open up to him herself when she was ready.

Wanting to focus on smiling for her when she came down, Luka shook off the thought and stared up at Marinette's trap door. Seeing that she hadn't come down yet - understandable given that she had no idea he was there - he pulled out his phone and navigated to her contact. However, just before he could tap on it, there was an abrupt, loud, and unusual noise coming from Marinette's room, followed by the sound of Marinette yelping and presumably hitting the floor.

Luka gasped. “Marinette!”

Not even thinking, he hurried upstairs, phone clutched tightly in his hand as he pushed the trap door up and let himself in.

Over a dozen tiny kwami were speeding around her room, each with distinct voices and one of whom he recognized as Sass. He'd initially thought that the Liberty was chaos, and it was, but there was something different about fifteen little melodies all moving around simultaneously and wreaking havoc. They hadn't even seemed to notice that he was there.

There was also a ladybug-patterned ellipsoid lying on the table in the middle of it all, though Luka's eyes fixated mostly on Marinette lying there on the floor, now staring at him with wide eyes as he took in the whole situation.

"L-luka!" she greeted, voice forced. "W-what a surprise! I mean, you must be surprised at my toy collection! See, there's—there’s this magnetism thing going on that lets them seem like they're flying and—"

She was cut off as one of the kwami accidentally dropped something to the floor, making her flinch from the loud noise. Even the sound all around the room was overwhelming, the little beings ignoring Marinette’s panic in favor of playing with her things.

That's when the tears started, subtly at first until Marinette let out a whimper.

Ignoring all the revelations he just went through, Luka hurried to Marinette's side, helping her up and checking her for injuries. "Marinette, are you okay—"

"You know!" she cut in, running her fingers anxiously through her hair. "You're not supposed to know!"

He took a breath, recognizing that he was going to have to deal with these revelations now. "It's okay. I promise, I'd never—"

"No, it's not okay!" she argued, throwing her hands out. "I've been guardian for just a few days and this—this isn't—! I already—and now the kwami are out—!" She slumped and dropped her gaze to the floor, ashamed. "I'm a bad guardian. I'm a bad girlfriend. I couldn't protect you from knowing!"

"Marinette, you're not a bad girlfriend. You—" He paused, something occurring to him. "Protect me...?"

He hadn't been Viperion for long, but Luka remembered the importance given to secret identities. He understood that it was a form of protecting oneself and one's loved ones, meaning that a permanent hero like Ladybug needed to keep hers a secret the most.

"Is..." His stomach twisted in knots as he remembered all the dates she'd had to either miss or postpone. He bent down, trying to look at her face, and when he still couldn't, he gently cupped her face and encouraged her to make eye contact with him. "Is that why—"

"Yes! That's why I have to keep cutting our dates short, and not being there for you, and not going on patrols with Chat, and why I haven't had time to take those stupid Adrien pictures down! I can't do anything right!"

At some point, the volume of her voice had finally drawn the attention of the kwami, who all stared at her like children watching their parent having a breakdown and feeling awkward about it. Luka paid them no mind, his heart breaking as he processed all the information Marinette was telling him while all he could do was pull her into a hug and just hold her.

"I'm sorry I found out like this," he admitted, running his hand up and down along her back. "I'm glad that I know but I would've wanted you to share that secret with me instead."

"I-I'm sor—"

"Please don't apologize, Marinette," he gently begged. "I hate hearing songs with meanings I don't agree with. You don't have anything to feel sorry for. If I had the ladybug earrings instead, I would've had to do the same thing as you, and you wouldn't have asked me to apologize, would you?"

She looked up at him, expression pained and full of so many burdens that he couldn't believe he hadn't seen before. He brushed her fringe aside and rested his palm against her forehead, concerned about how pale she seemed and worried that she'd stress herself to a cold.

She leaned into his touch, then further until he was forced to move his hand away. She buried her face in his chest, surprising him as she hugged him tightly. Her song turned from the harsh wail of an electric guitar to the mellow tones of an acoustic, and he sighed in a mixture of relief and happiness.

"...Luka," she murmured, lightly clutching whatever fabric she could reach. "The movie. We'll miss it at this rate."

He hummed, half in response to what she said and half in content. "You're so much more important than the movie."

His heart skipped a beat when she actually giggled, her grip on him loosening and the hug turning to something she did because she wanted to, not for comfort. "More important than Jagged Stone?"

He chuckled, burying his face into her hair as he returned the hug. "Always. Even my idol can't compete with my muse."

She leaned further into him, her melody picking up hints off a bell chiming happily. She almost knocked him over from how much of her weight she was putting on him, but he didn't protest and even enjoyed it; it meant she was trusting him with her secrets instead of shouldering the weight herself.

"I know I couldn't have known," he began, "but I'm sorry that our dates took up your time. I never wanted to cause you any stress."

"But I wanted to!" she insisted, jolting up to look at him. "It's just—it's been a lot, and—"

He placed two fingers against her lips before she could start rambling. "Marinette, I don't need to go on normal dates to have fun with you."

She blinked, waiting for him to move his fingers before asking, "Y-you don't?"

He smiled. "Of course not. I can hang out here while you work, while you do important stuff."

With a small, amused snort, she pulled away from him and wiped any stray tears away. "You're 'important stuff.'"

He grinned like the love-struck fool that he was, then shrugged. "Well, I'll still be here anyway then, right?"

"That's true." She paused, glancing off to the side in consideration, then looked back at him as she asked, "in that case... would you help me with something?"

"Anything," he answered immediately.

She pointed, his gaze drawn to her wall full of Adrien pictures. "Like I said, I haven't had the time, and... I've been wanting to remodel forever."

He was more than happy to help, and there was a selfish part of him that considered it far better than any movie they could've seen.

—————

It took a bit more time than either of them anticipated to take down all of the images, but between the two of them, it wasn't a hard job. The biggest time-waster during the whole thing was Marinette's rambling, but Luka welcomed it wholeheartedly.

Due to not watching much TV, he honestly hadn't heard about what'd happened when Jagged Stone had been at the bakery and the camera crew had invaded Marinette's privacy, and he couldn't believe how much mental stress she must've gone through. After all, even though he and Juleka shared a room, there was still a divider for when they needed their privacy, so he wasn't unaware about how personal it was to have one's room recorded without their consent, even if nothing embarrassing got caught on camera.

It seemed cruel to know that Paris' supposedly lucky superhero was perhaps one of the unluckiest people he'd ever known.

Almost on cue, just when the last picture was down and Marinette was debating on what to do with them, her phone went off with a ringtone that sounded very much like danger. Looking over, there was a butterfly symbol flashing on the screen and Marinette's expression faltered at the sight of it.

"Akuma alert," she said flatly, with a pout that would've been cute had he not known what it meant. She hesitated, eyes flicking from him to her phone. "Um... look, I... I have to—"

"Go," he interrupted with a reassuring smile. "I'm not going anywhere, and I'll be here when you're done."

"But—" She frowned and glared at her phone, clearly knowing that she had to leave but not wanting to.

"I mean it, Marinette. It's okay."

She looked at him like she'd never heard those words from anyone else before, eyes vulnerable but fond. She gave him a nod, a brief smile flickering across her face before she turned away and rushed to the stairs. She shouted for her transformation on the way out and Luka watched as her clothes shifted into her ladybug-patterned bodysuit.

When she was completely gone, Luka felt a sudden unsteadiness and leaned against the table for support. It wasn't that he was shocked exactly to hear that Marinette was Ladybug, but he was still overloaded nonetheless.

As his hand rested on the table, he felt the heel of his palm brush something and looked down to see the pile of Adrien pictures next to him. It sent another rush through his body at the reminder that she'd asked him to help her take them down. He was dating her, sure, but he wasn't foolish enough to think that there were no lingering feelings for Adrien. He knew where she stood and he was okay letting her test the waters with him, as she did have feelings for him and who was he to complain if his crush wanted to date him? Besides, he couldn't help wanting to see if maybe it would truly make their bond stronger.

Looking at the wall now, clear of anything but the pink paint, he knew this was real and ended up wishing he'd brought his guitar.

Then, remembering the akuma alert on Marinette's phone, Luka pulled out his own and began to search, eventually finding what she already had: a direct link to watch streams and updates on whatever akuma or sentimonster shenanigans were going on. He knew well enough that he would only give himself anxiety from it, but he wanted to watch his girlfriend in action as a form of support.

Gosh, Ladybug was his girlfriend.

He took a deep breath to steady himself as he watched the footage, his eyes locked to the screen and only shifting when he felt various figures drawing close. He looked up to see that the kwami had all gathered around him, watching the screen closely.

"So..." the pig-looking kwami began, fiddling with their own paws like they knew they were being awkward. "Have you ever wanted to be a hero?"

There was a hiss off to the side, Sass cutting in with, "He already has me."

Luka wasn't feeling up to smile at that, debating with himself before sighing. "Marinette works really hard, and her song is full of sour notes right now," he said. Stepping away and heading for the chaise lounge, he sat down and added, "I hope you can figure out how to rewrite them."

The kwami all exchanged looks, some confused by the metaphor and others who perhaps understood but didn't know how to follow up on it. Luka didn't give them his attention, focusing on the akuma battle playing on his phone.

As he'd expected, it made him a little nervous actually seeing Ladybug in action due to now knowing it was his girlfriend fighting out there. He believed in her abilities and mentally cheered her on, but he just kept remembering all the akuma he'd known about and how stressful it had to have been.

Off to the side, some of the kwami joined forces to help pick up some of the items they'd previously dropped on the floor. It was only after Marinette's room looked as it did before that they properly joined Luka to watch the battle with him.

It was a start.

—————

The battle between Ladybug and the akuma (and Chat Noir was there he supposed) seemed to be getting into its final verse when Luka heard the sound of the trap door being grabbed and clicked open, making him jump. He was only able to whisper a, "Hide," so the kwami could act before Sabine peered inside the room and took a curious look around.

Apparently, they all thought that huddling against his back was a great hiding spot, and he could only smile sheepishly at Sabine while attempting to ignore the weird feeling.

"You're still here?" Sabine asked. "I thought you were going somewhere, and..." She raised a brow, looking around once more. "Where's Marinette?"

"Ah," Luka began, his mind rushing for an excuse, "we actually decided to have our date here instead. Marinette just went up to her balcony to grab something."

It didn't feel good to lie, though he also felt a sense of accomplishment in protecting Marinette's secret. Was this what Marinette dealt with all the time; having to lie to people even if she didn't want to?

Sabine glanced up briefly to where the balcony was, then back to him, slightly confused but rolling with it. "Alright. Do you two need anything?"

"No, ma'am. Thank you though," he replied, hoping it didn't sound forced.

Thankfully, Sabine nodded and left without asking any further questions, the kwami emerging and clinging to Luka while they peered at the now-closed trap door. Luka breathed a sigh of relief, then went back to watching the akuma battle on his phone.

The rest of the fight took a couple minutes, and all that was left to do afterward was wait for Ladybug to return. Once again, Luka wished he had his guitar, making a mental note to get all of his feelings out when he got home, as typical music apps just didn't do anything for him.

An expected "thump" eventually came from the balcony, and the kwami drifting away from Luka as Ladybug descended and landed on her bed. She saw Luka staring at her and initially flinched, but it was clearly a reflex from people seeing her as Ladybug where she shouldn't be, and she hurried down to meet with him afterward. Luka hopped to his feet, not hesitating to meet her halfway and envelop her in a hug, earning a squeak out of her.

"L-luka?"

"Sorry," he murmured. "Just... I got to think about everything you must've gone through without m—" He choked off, suddenly embarrassed, then corrected, "—someone to help you."

She blinked, then giggled and hugged him back. "You're my boyfriend. You're apologizing for hugging me and being worried about sounding selfish?" She nestled her face against his shoulder and he blushed at how warm she was. "Don't. I like it when you're a little selfish, Luka. It grounds me; makes me feel like you're not totally out of my league."

Luka scoffed, nuzzling his head against hers. "You're in a league all your own. I'm literally dating a superhero."

"Trust me, it's not as cool as it sounds."

"I disagree. I think you're really cool."

She blushed profusely. "H-hey..."

He chuckled. "By the way, your mom came to check up on us."

Ladybug gasped, then pulled back, eyes wide and concerned. She was clearly about to apologize, so he cut her off before she could.

"I told her that we were having our date here and that you were getting something from the balcony. Everything's alright."

Her shoulders eased. She let out a sigh of relief as her head fell back against his shoulder. "Thank you."

He hummed contently, resting his hand along her back and keeping it there. Then, realizing when Sabine came up earlier and might do it again, he reminded her, "You're still Ladybug."

"Huh? ...Oh!" she said, though with less panic than normal and unwilling to recoil from the happy spot she was in.

He heard the whisper of her de-transformation phrase and winced as the light engulfed her, slowly turning her back into Marinette. He felt the spandex under his hand turn into fabric and Marinette's breath against his skin as she exhaled.

A kwami that Luka deduced was Marinette's flew a small distance away, eyeing Luka warily and semi-critically. Luka didn't blame her - he wasn't supposed to know - but he also knew that it was far too late to change anything now, and there was no way he was going to abandon Marinette or pretend he knew nothing. He imagined that the kwami knew that too.

"...I'm Tikki," the kwami greeted finally. "It's nice to meet you officially, Luka."

Luka gave her a nod in return, then stiffened somewhat as Marinette squeezed him tighter, burying her face further against him like she truly cherished him.

"It's still a lot," she whispered. "Is it okay if you hug me a little longer?"

"Of course." Though, he paused for a moment before adding, "Would it be more comfortable for you if we move to your chaise?"

"Hm?" She pulled away just enough to look down and realize that they were still awkwardly standing at the bottom of the steps to her bed. "Oh! Yeah, I mean—I didn't even—"

"Hey." He tenderly cupped her cheek, offering a smile. "I didn't complain, did I?"

She looked briefly surprised, making him wonder just how much she'd had to apologize in the past. They slowly made their way over to the chaise lounge, Luka settling down and opening his arms for her so she could settle onto his lap and snuggle against him. He leaned back against the chaise, throwing his legs across the length of it, then wrapped an arm around Marinette to make her feel secure.

"This is nice. It's... um—" She peeked up at him, then grinned shyly. "—melodic? Is that what you'd call it?"

He couldn't stop himself from snorting.

Marinette blushed in embarrassment. "H-hey! I'm trying, okay?"

"I know." He took a strand of her hair in his hand and stroked it. "You always try, and I love that about you."

She let out a series of whines at that, but doesn't protest the compliment either. She nestled against his chest, keeping her face turned away enough to still talk to him without her voice being muffled.

"I just... want to know more about you, Luka," she told him. "You're so sweet and I felt awful having to ditch you. Didn't it bother you?"

He gave a one-armed shrug. "You were busy. I unders—"

"Luka."

He stopped, meeting her firm gaze and knowing that he wasn't getting out of this easily. He sighed, admitting, "...Yeah, it bothered me, but it wasn't because of you or that I didn't trust you. I... see—my dad..." He rubbed the back of his neck, realizing that he'd never told anyone this story before. "I never knew who he was. I asked my mom so many times, but she never gave me an answer. Whenever you had to leave and lie to me, I..."

"Oh." She raised herself up more to meet him closer to eye level. "I'm so sorry—wait—sorry, you told me not to apologize—Sorry! I did it agai—ACK!"

He laughed, feeling warm and delighted by how much she cared about him and wanted him to feel secure in their relationship. He squeezed her shoulder in reassurance, wanting to nuzzle her for how cute she was being and just barely able to hold himself back.

"Don't worry about it. I'm glad you were looking out for me, but you deserve someone to look out for you too."

She pouted a bit at the heartfelt comment, then smiled and raised her hand to settle on his along her shoulder.

He hummed, pausing purposefully for effect before asking, "...So, what does the great guardian Marinette want to do now?"

"Oh my gosh, Luka."

He grinned, happy to compliment her until she was completely red. "How about the brave and heroic Ladybug then?"

"Luka."

He reached up to caress her cheek with his thumb. "But, if you ask me, I like the kind, sincere civilian Marinette best."

"LUKA!"

—————

The rest of their "date" passed by smoothly, Marinette's parents having left them alone so as to not interrupt anything. Marinette had idly brought up the idea that the movie might still be playing - just at a different time than they planned on going - but Luka brushed off the idea and insisted that he was happy there and didn't need to go on a "real" date with her to have fun, opting to leave it up to her.

And... yeah, neither of them were willing to leave their current position and exchange it for having to sit in different seats at a theater with other people around. They opted to just stare at the ceiling and talk, the kwami having respectfully retreated to Marinette's bed to give them privacy.

Talks of their past meetings and when she left to become Ladybug soon turned into a game of finishing Jagged Stone lyrics. Luka, either by being the bigger fan or just having an easier time remembering them, ended up winning in the end, though he couldn't have expected Marinette to follow up by immediately leaving his lap. He'd held back a whine at the sudden lack of warmth and wondered if maybe she'd been teasing him with some sort of punishment by going away.

But then she'd returned with a tiny pink gift box, and inside was a guitar pick necklace signed by Jagged Stone himself.

"He came into the bakery the other day and I had him sign it for you," she explained. Taking it out to fully present it to him, she asked, "Do...do you like it?"

"I love it, Marinette," he replied immediately, reaching out to feel the guitar pick and properly appreciate it. "I can have this?"

She smiled in response, holding the necklace out in a gesture that made his heart skip a beat, realizing that she was offering to put it on him herself. He leaned close, feeling the light brush of her fingers against his neck as she slipped it onto him. He silently hoped that it was durable because he was absolutely never taking it off.

Marinette's hands lingered on the string even when the necklace was fully on, Luka meeting her gaze to see that she was looking at him with all the love he'd ever dreamed of her offering him. He didn't say a word and neither did she, but with a light tug on his necklace, he was pulled towards her into a kiss. It was definitely too deep for their first but also so nice that neither of them cared, and not even the Ladybug revelation could outmatch his surprise at being so readily smooched.

Luka reached for the hand grabbing his necklace, Marinette letting go of it so they could thread their fingers together. His song was going crazy as she leaned forward, clearly wanting more from him and him being wonderfully helpless to resist her. He breathed her in, his other hand finding its place on her side. Her own hand rose up so her fingers could settle against the back of his neck, and he couldn't bring himself to be embarrassed by the sound he made when she started playing with his hair.

She didn't even pull away when their kiss broke, merely pressing her forehead to his while they each caught their breath. Despite the boldness she'd just displayed, she somehow couldn't maintain eye contact and ended up looking elsewhere while all he could do was stare at her in a daze.

"S-sor—" She paused, remembering again that he told her not to apologize. "I-I mean, I'm... not sorry? I—ah—remembered you saying that music is simpler than words, so I just—I thought that maybe I shouldn't ask you with words and just... play it instead?" Luka could feel the heat radiating from her blush as she hurriedly added, "Um... is that okay?"

He answered her with another kiss.

[absolutepokemontrash]

The Brothers With an MC That’s Only Soft for Them

So, cute Headcanons are my kryptonite! Please enjoy, my fluff loving brethren!

Lucifer

We at Stupid Headcanons inc. recommend that MC does not inflate this bastard’s ego further, but if they choose to…

Lucifer, the morning star, a high ranking demon, does not need MC’s affection… that was a lie he C R A V E S it.

This pairing is actually quite complimentary, Lucifer is only soft for MC, MC is only soft for Lucifer, perfectly balanced.

MC shouldn’t expect Lucifer to be too reciprocal to their affections in public until they’re both neck deep into the relationship, but in private, hoo boy.

The “good job!”s, the hugs, the quick pecks on the cheek, all of it just made Lucifer practically melt. He adores all the affection, and it’s all for him.

Finally, someone in this house appreciates him…

“Lucifer, try not to overwork yourself, if you need anything, just ask, okay?” “Thank you, MC.” “Hey MC! I need help, pass me the remote.” “YOU CAN WALK OFF A CLIFF BELPHIE! Love you, Lucifer.”

And to be honest, some of the roasts are funny, but MC, dearest, please dial down the sass near Lord Diavolo.

Mammon

Of course MC’s favourite is the Great Mammon! Heh, who else would it be? Not that he needs this human’s affection or anything!

…screw it, please MC, give him more head pats.

Hand holding, hugs, resting his head on MC’s lap… Mammon’s really living the life.

In public Mammon is constantly trying to get MC to shower him in praise and affection in his own weird tsundere kind of way. It’s good thing MC is always willing to give their demon all the love they have.

It just makes him so happy that all of MC’s affection belongs to him, it makes his greedy little heart sing.

MC’s love and care tragically does not save him from being caught for his shenanigans, but MC, stone cold bitch that they are, will always do something bad to get strung up next to him.

“MC, what’re ya doin’ here?” “Oh you know babe, just hanging around.”

Nothing makes him smile more than when they stick up for him, to MC, he isn’t scummy trash, he’s the great Mammon! Their super amazing guardian! He does what he can to live up to MC’s image of him!

Since Mammon’s super supportive of his human, he’ll always provide reaction sound affects whenever MC delivers a verbal smack down.

Levi

MC likes him? Must be a joke. Who’d like a gross Otaku like him���?

The human exchange student apparently.

They’d listen with a look of pure adoration on their face whenever Levi would ramble about his favourite anime, they’d help him organize his figurines, they’d play video games with him…

Man… MC’s really playing the long con here on this practical joke.

When Levi isn’t drowning in self doubt, he absolutely loves how sweet and gentle MC is around him, a side only he gets to see… *swoon*

A cold mean character that’s only soft for their love interest??? That’s one of Levi’s top five favourite romantic tropes!

Levi’s often taking notes on MC’s snappy remarks so he can sass people while he streams, he’s not too good at it, so he just streams with MC present. His viewership goes up whenever exponentially whenever MC says anything.

“Someone in the chat just said I must be insanely lonely-” “There’s no way in hell you’re lonelier than that guy at night. His bed ranks number one in the top ten loneliest places ever.”

Satan

At first, Satan took more of an analytical interest in MC’s attitude, they’re either suicidally impulsive or very confident in their ability to run from danger if they think they can sass demons and get away unscathed.

Once the two connect and MC goes soft for him, it’s game over. Satan’s weakness is cute things, and nothing is cuter to him than his usually mean MC raining affection and compliments down upon him!

Satan finally has a leg up on Lucifer! The human adores him and isn’t afraid to talk back to that pretentious motherfucker-

MC sits in Satan’s lap and the two read together, they smuggle cats into the house, they lay in bed together plotting the downfall of their enemies… just normal couple things.

Sometimes MC just sits next to him and makes a particularly nasty quip at someone else, then give him a big ol kiss on the cheek.

It just makes him oh so happy…

“Honey, I brought you tea!” “Ah, thank you MC.” “I took it from Lucifer’s private stash of relaxing tea :D” “You really are my soulmate, aren’t you?”

Asmo

Gasp! MC’s so mean! Do it more!

Asmo, sassy god he is, appreciates a good snide remark or twelve, so he’s always got a front row seat to MC’s shennaniganery.

Before the pact, he was back in the peanut gallery with Satan wondering when MC’s words would come back to bite them, but after the pact, nothing’s touching the human. Their sass is completely consequence-less as long as Asmo’s around!

These two are a match made in hell, literally. Asmo and MC get to be so in sync that they manage to make each other’s insults better by working together.

“I’d give you the name of a few surgery places but I don’t think they implant brains into unlucky people like yourself.” “They might be able to implant a better personality though~.”

Asmo’s fully willing to flaunt his relationship in public. Sort of in a “look at us! MC’s only nice to me! Eat shit losers!” kind of way.

It isn’t all vanity and insults, MC always finds a way to make Asmo feel better whenever he’s feeling down. MC makes sure to tell Asmo as often as possible that they love him for more than just his looks, and it makes the Avatar of Lust swoon.

Just as long as MC never turns their razor sharp wit on Asmo, he’s their cheerleader forever.

Beel

Good choice, MC.

Despite his resting bitch face, Beel’s a big softie, everyone knows that, and as the Simpsons said, ‘the strong must protect the sweet’.

Well… MC isn’t as strong as Beel, but they will verbally eviscerate anyone who even dares insinuate anything not nice about their precious gigantic cinnamon roll!

“Listen up bitches! Not you Beel, we’re all glad you’re here.” “^_^” “Y’ALL ARE IN DEEP SHIT.”

Beel loves how affectionate MC is! Doesn’t matter if it’s in public or private, he and MC are almost always at least holding hands.

MC always has emergency snacks on them, they never get upset when Beel eats everything in the house, they just smile and hand over whatever food they have on them and help fix the problem.

Beel is probably one of the only characters who would try and get MC to branch out and be nicer to everyone and not just him. Whether this works depends on MC.

Belphie

Does he deserve this? No. Did he almost start crying when MC began to show him genuine care and affection? Yes. Does he nearly die of laughter every time MC snaps at someone? Yes.

Belphie’s not sure why MC decided that they were going to love him of all demons… but they just… understand him.

They listened patiently and offered a shoulder to cry on, even after he hurt them… their understanding, their compassion, just wow. Belphie really lucked out.

MC lets him nap, fluffs his pillows, reminds him to wash his pillow cases and comforter, gets him sushi, like geez… what a simp… *sniffle*

In return, Belphie offers cuddles. Cuddles and quality time together. For the first time in how many millennia Belphie is going to get off his ass and do something for someone if they ask.

It’s a miracle.

Belphie isn’t one for flaunting a relationship but… he may just let some people know that this super mean human likes him the most by giving his human a quick kiss.

[bakugosbratx]

Warning: NSFW 18+ Content. Sexual intercourse, angst, pregnancy, cursing, fluff, degrading, etc.

Words: 1.6k

Check out my other works here

A/N: I just realized there isn’t much talking at all. I’ll make up for it in part four. This shit is sad. I am sad so it’s fitting. I’m sorry in advance. I hope you enjoyed.

Part Two | Finale

Tags: @awilddreamerwrites @miriobaby @lanarist @peachsenpie @milkthistletea @sickchildren @bakugousbrat @lil-miminini @tremendouswolfsaladranch @ssplague @vinny-likes-to-play21

Not every story has a happy ending. Y/N is learning this the hard way.

“CEO of Bakugo Industires, Katsuki Bakugo, shows off his new girlfriend at the Industry Ceremony tonight—“

You turn your phone off. Your red, swollen tear filled eyes could not look at the words and pictures anymore. The press sure did know how to capture the model’s perfect angles. A courtesy they would never give you if you were ever lucky to fill her shoes.

The way Katsuki’s muscular arm snaked around her tiny little waist made you fall ill. The flash of his glamorous smile filled your broken one with rage.

Your ears are filled with the salty liquid that flowed from your orbs. You are not even sure how you are still breathing. It shouldn’t hurt this much. It shouldn’t feel like this. You are just fuck buddies.

Were just fuck buddies.

The words will not stop replaying in your head. It’s been over a month. It’s spinning on a broken record player. All the emotions you felt in that moment intensify with each passing day. You should hate him for abandoning you, but your heart cannot do so. All you wanted was him.

You knew better than to fall for Katsuki. He told you to keep your feelings out of your sexual relations with him yet here you are, sobbing into your bedroom pillow, a growing fetus inside of you.

The room felt restricting of your oxygen supply. The ceiling fan sent chills down your warm spine. Your body aches and your throat feels dry. Katsuki’s cruel words along with his actions strangle you. You have not been able to see straight since.

The next couple of months of work are pure hell. You did your best to avoid Katsuki and he did the same. You noticed that Katsuki did not look at you as you were the only one in the room anymore. He seemed to look past you. If you dared meet those beautiful crimson eyes for even a slight moment, you were left feeling disgusted with yourself. Katsuki has a way of speaking without actually doing so. You adored and hated that about him.

Whenever he addressed you for business matters, you had trouble formulating sentences. Your eyes always seemed to be puffy from the endless nights of hysterical tears. Katsuki’s voice held more aggression than you are used to. Maybe you wanted him to at least have some sympathy, but that was nowhere to be found. He soon stopped inviting you to meetings.

You two did a wonderful job of finding the long way around the office building. Any precaution there was to take, you both did, but no plan is bulletproof and you are going to see each other at some point.

You two have not seen each other in over a month — almost two — and you have been feeling stronger than before. Less weeping nights, you are back to eating a normal diet, and you are more well rested. The bags under your eyes became less noticeable, but they still lingered longer than one would prefer.

You dried off your hands in the restroom — the one furthest from you and Katsuki’s office — and headed out to get back to work. The hallway is quite vacant around this time of day. Everyone is either on lunch or too focused on their work before packing up for the day. Your heels echoed amongst the marble floor. Looking up, your breath hitched.

Your eyes met the ones you desperately wanted to despise. Yours held sadness and desperation while he held anger and disgust. The way Katsuki viewed you, you started to view yourself. Even if it isn’t your fault.

The glance was only a maximum of five seconds, but those five seconds felt like a decade for you two. A period of time you would come to mentally plead for overtime.

You have not seen him for another three weeks after that. The cycle repeated: you sobbed, and sobbed some more, and then you started to cry less.

Then it happened.

You are coming into work late due to a doctor's appointment. The baby is healthy as are you so that is lovely news. Something you would love to share with Katsuki if he even remembered your name.

The elevator was taking its sweet time getting up to the floor where your office is located. You felt strong. How could you not? Your baby is going to be okay from the looks of it. A little human is excited to meet you and you are becoming excited to meet them.

Maybe things are starting to fall into place.

Elevator doors open. You begin to walk forward but come to a halt with the man standing in front of you; Katsuki Bakugo.

Your heart races with your bottom lip begging to quiver. You do your best to hide it though as you brush past one another. A jolt of electricity shot through you. The slightest graze of his calloused fingertips felt so rigid yet so soft. Your instincts force you to look up to see the stranger peer down at you. The stranger you used to know.

“See me, Katsuki. See me as the woman you used to know.” You mentally beg. You just wanted him to see you as somebody. Somebody he used to want.

Katsuki paused there, speaking to you through his eyes. This time, they did not hold as much disgust as before. Maybe it’s the hormones, but you could have sworn you witnessed longing within the roots of his irises. If Katsuki was capable of processing his emotions and allowing them to show, he would write them on his features. He remains stone cold, preventing his fingertips from latching onto yours. So, awkwardly they lay, both of your breaths caught in your windpipes until Katsuki decides to break free of the shackles.

You attempted to be in Katsuki’s space more. You knew him like a book just like he did for you. You both learned each other’s frequent routines.

Awkward encounters became more frequent and you both secretly looked forward to them. Long stares that withheld unspoken phrases. Katsuki’s gazes turned from disgust to softness. Especially with your stomach starting to show as the months rolled on. Still, not a word was spoken

The corporate office began to talk. Chatter amongst Katsuki’s employees disturbed his peace of mind. He knows he has to address you at some point, but what is there to say? What could Katsuki even begin to formulate for you to understand where he is coming from? You are due sooner than he is comfortable with. There is no hiding your stomach.

You never asked a penny from him. Hell, you have not even tried to speak to him since that night. You only spoke when formally addressed. Even that was rare.

Katsuki replays that night a lot while laying in bed. He claims what you two had was just two coworkers having sexual intercourse, but nothing can hide the way he moans your name when he masturbates or has sex with someone else. The way he sees you in every female he comes into contact with. Nothing can hide the way his natural rapid heartbeat stops by the mention of your beautiful name. Don’t even get him started on the way you purposely would get on his nerves. They are all part of the list of delicate little things he missed.

You have every right to hate him. Katsuki would not blame you if you did. His hatred for himself reflected in his actions which ultimately was passed onto you. You carried that burden. He would search for the reflection of his anger in your orbs, but they held none. They held nothing but sadness and love. Love he refuses to accept.

Katsuki laid in bed, alone, allowing his mind to wander. He cursed you for keeping him awake. He is a busy man with things to do yet your features haunt him. The thought of someone else touching you the way he does killed him. He knows he would have heard muttering by now if you went to his rival yet there is silence.

You are silent.

You are falling deep into your peaceful slumber. Something you have been doing more lately. You no longer need the lullabies of your heartache and unwanted whimpers for comfort. You are more at ease.

A heavy knocking at the door startled you. Groaning and gazing at your cell phone, the time read the time.

1:03AM

The knocking picked up again. You are not expecting company at this hour so you take precautions. Grabbing the metal baseball bat you keep under your bed, you stroll to the door. The knocking echoed through your apartment complex much to your sleeping neighbors dismay. Your adrenaline rises with each step you take towards the door. Gazing out the peephole of your front door, you see Katsuki standing at the door.

Throwing the baseball bat to the side, you open the door.

“Katsuki, what the—“

Katsuki ushers himself in, not even giving you an opportunity to scold him or ask anymore questions. Instead, his lips are entangled with yours. Magnets desperately pulling towards each other. You attempt to push him away as you smell the alcohol lingering in his breath, but Katsuki is much stronger than you are.

Your mind is telling you to hate this, but your heart speaks otherwise as Katsuki pushes you against the beige wall, caging you in with his arms. You did not even try to stop him as he began removing any article clothing on your body. Your lips only disconnected for short seconds before meeting again. Now you are laid on the kitchen table, Katsuki’s thick erected cock deep in your pussy, begging moans escaping your parted lips.

Here we go again.

©bakugosbratx

All Rights Reserved

[finelinevogue]

um the one shot based off of champagne problems was bloody amazing !!! please do a part 2 😩

the amount of requests i got for a part two was scarily high, so here it is;

Harry woke up from another nightmare.

His skin sweating and his hair messy, he had to double check his room and make sure he was safe. He’s bolted up so fast in bed that he was worried he’d knock himself unconscious. When he did a survey of his surroundings and laid back down onto his bed, he cried.

He cried and cried and cried.

Harry let his eyes close and recall that same evening he was having nightmares over.

I couldn’t feel anything.

I was numb to the touch. I felt nauseous. Light-headed. I needed someone to pinch me that this was actually happening, but I was worried I wouldn’t feel anything at all because I knew it was happening. It had happened.

Y/N had left. She’d gone. No, is what she’d said.

The whole in my heart from where Y/N had filled made me feel completely empty and useless. I wouldn’t find a purpose now. I always thought it was going to be Y/M, I was so sure. I thought she’d been sure. Yet, i’d ruined it and now she was gone and all that was left of her was the dark void in my burnt out chest.

My hands shook as I reached into my jacket pocket to pull out the ring box. It’s black velvet coating was dusty, because it was the my grandfathers. It was supposed to mean something, because she meant everything. Yet, she left me. She said no. The one most important person in my life and she’d left me. And fuck did I need her so bad. She was my fucking other half and my soulmate but she’d gone. She said no.

I threw the box into the wall, watching the ring bounce out and onto the floor. I screamed. I let my pain release itself upon me. I wanted to feel something to help me release i’m not as numb as I thought. I crashed onto the floor, knees banging hard on the wooden floorboards. I cried. Eyes stinging and mouth screaming my heartbreaking cries. I was in so much pain and yet had never felt so empty.

I noticed my mum and Gemma run up the stairs first. Mum dropped down next to me whilst Gemma collected the ring and the box, piecing it back together like it wasn’t broken - like it could just be fixed. No. This was unfixable. I was broken.

“Harry breathe hun.” Mum spoke softly and repeated over and over again. I wasn’t short of breathe, I was just extremely numb. Empty. So much pain though. I appreciated that she wasn’t telling me it was okay, but we both knew that was far from the truth. My person, my favourite person, had left me just like that. So quickly.

5 minutes. That’s all it had taken.

A couple of other guests came rushing upstairs, desperate to see a broken man. They were most likely curious as to what had happened to the surprise, but there was none. No surprise, because there was no engagement. It was over and I was done. Finished. Why bother trying to love any more when all it ends is in heartbreak? It must be me. I just must be unlovable.

My hands shook and my cries continued, but it was a friend’s voice that brought me out of my trance.

“She would’ve made such a lovely bride, what a shame shes fucked in the head.”

I saw red.

How dare they speak about her that way. How far they treat get that way. Y/N may have left me but my heart still fucking beat for her. It bled for her. I was burning for her. I needed her, fuck I needed her.

I got up and ran down the stairs, ignoring everybody. I picked up a bottle of champagne and ran out of the front door. I popped the cork, sending it flying and I walked. I walked and walked and walked. I drank and walked.

The bottle was half empty when I made it onto her driveway.

I didn’t even realise I was here until I was here. I put the bottle down on the floor and straightened my tie, making sure I looked presentable for when I got my already broken heart broken even more. I was ready this time. But I fucking wasn’t. I couldn’t even raise my hand to the doorbell, crying before even lifting it. I cried for me. I cried my shitty heart. I cried because I love Y/N so much. She is my everything.

“H-Harry?” Her voice shot through my body and sent tingles running all up my spine.

I spun around to see her standing half-way down her driveway and eyes so heavy from crying. Her eyes were as bloodshot red as her dress. She looked perfect. Absolutely stunning. Even looking so broken and so…sad, she turned my world on it’s axis and kept me spinning. Looking at her I knew she was my home. My comfort. My person. It was just so hard to understand how 5 minutes could’ve made her feel anything but that for me.

“Y/N.” I tried to say her name firmly, but my voice cracked at the sight of her so broken. At the sight of us so broken.

“Harry w-what are you doing here?” She stuttered, wiping some of her mascara away so she didn’t look so tired and upset.

“5 minutes.” I whispered.

“Sorry wh—”

“I’m just trying to understand how everything fell apart in 5 minutes.”

“It didn’t.” She answered back, making my eyes flicker from the stone cold ground to her breathtakingly beautiful face. She was actually an angel if ever I saw one. The moon shone upon her like it had chosen her specifically to love on. I was jealous. Even the moon could touch what I couldn’t.

“What?” I asked confused.

“Forget it, Harry. We— I can’t do this.”

“Do what?” I begged for answers, moving closer to her and feeling somewhat happy when she didn’t move away from me. It made me relieved that she wasn’t entirely neglectful of me.

“Us, Harry. I can’t— It’s—” And then she started crying really harsh tears. She cupped her delicate hand over her eyes so I couldn’t see those beauties anymore. My heart broken at the sight of my sad girl. I hated it so much. I should be angry, furious, cross, upset. Yet, all I felt was sorrow and hurt for my girl. My Y/N. I moved towards her and hesitated before wrapping my arms around her, enclosing her in the tightest bear hug I could manage. I wanted her to feel loved, at least for a moment.

“Please talk to me, Y/N. I’m begging.” I cried as I rested my head on top of hers. I wanted her to know I was really hurting - that I was just as broken as her.

“I’m so sorry. So sorry Harry.” She just cried and cried, making me cry and cry. Her arms didn’t wrap around me and that stung a little, but I got to hold her so that was enough for me.

“You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.” I reassured her, trying to be brave for the both of us.

“I d-don’t deserve to be.” She whimpered and it cracked my heart even more. I was going to need so many fucking plasters for this breakup. And wine. And cigarettes.

“Don’t say that. It’s not true. You just fell out of love with me and—”

She pushed away from me with a strong push, freezing me and making me widen my eyes at both her outburst and strength. “I didn’t!” She shouted, surely the neighbours were hearing this from inside their homes. I didn’t care though. I was focused on her and her alone.

“But...”

“I-I didn’t.” She cried and cried. “I love you. So much Harry. But…”

My heart didn’t know what to do now. Did it hurt for before? Did it hurt for the future? Or should it burn for the emotional tug of war my heart strings were playing?

“But what, baby? Huh? Because I fucking love you so much. Isn’t that enough?” I shouted, trying to get through to her. I needed her. Wanted her. I loved her.

“It is.” She bravely smiled before continuing. “It’s just i’m not enough.” She wobbled her lips about to start crying again but I didn’t let her. I caught up to her and held her cheeks in my palms. Her words hurt even more than a simple no.

“Never say that to me again. Ever. You hear me?” She nodded her head as her eyes clouded over again and mine followed suit. “I love you, Y/N L/N. If you never want to become my wife, that is okay. I am okay with that. I would love to see you walk down an aisle, but not at the cost of this. I’m not loosing you. I won’t. I- I can’t, okay? A world without you… Shit.” I had to stop and breathe to catch my breathe, Y/N still looking at me with starry eyes. “A world without you isn’t with living properly.”

“Harrry…”

“No Y/N. I mean it. Please. I love you. You love me. Why can’t that be enough for us?”

“It is. I-I want it to be.” Y/N stuttered.

“Then what is it?” I asked urgently, not understanding why this was all happening. And now. “What happened in those 5 minutes Y/N?”

“Harry!”

Harry was brought out of his daze, or more of a nightmare, bu shaking hands on his shoulders. His face was wet with tears and his body sweaty. He was okay, though. He tried to push the nightmare away. Far away. It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter, because you were currently straddling his waist looking at him with sorry eyes as you woke him from the nightmare.

You were here.

“Baby…” He whispered, raising an arm to cup your cheek and you leaned into his softly. You gave it a kiss and he welcomed it with all his heart.

“Another nightmare?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah.” He sadly answered and you nodded sadly.

“I’m so sorry.” You spoke quietly, guilt laced rich onto your voice.

“No. Don’t do that. Stop.” Harry ordered, sitting up so that his body pressed against yours. He was so close you could taste the minty toothpaste he used before bed last night.

“It’s just.. Every nightmare you have, I can’t help but feel so guilty.” You frowned, looking to see his head shake at your words.

“Listen to me,” Harry stroked a hand over your hair and left it cupped at the back of your neck for support. “That night, sure, didn’t go as planned. I got hurt, but so did you. It wasn’t just me who had to leave because the heartache was too bad, it was you also. Sure, you were the one to say no, but I was the one who didn’t notice how sad you were. We both made mistakes that night and I won’t let you go another single fucking day thinking that your mistakes were worse than mine. We both hurt that night. We hurt each other. I just don’t ever want to lose you again. That’s why I have the nightmares, because I can’t see you leave me again, angel.”

With teary eyes you looked at him with so much awe. He had fixed your broken heart and you, his. “I love you.” And you meant it.

“I love you.” And he meant it.

He slowly picked up your hand resting it on his cheek for comfort. He loved the feeling of your soft and delicate skin there. You looked into his eyes and knew that he meant every word he’d spoken in the last 5 minutes. He loved you and forever would. The kiss he left to the ring on your finger proved just exactly that.

[storiesforallfandoms]

survivor ~ captain jack sparrow;pirates of the caribbean

word count: 2090

request?: yes!

“Hello, I have an idea for a story with Jack Sparrow so I thought I'd request, one where Jack rescues the reader from a sunken ship at the ocean, where she was apparently the only survivor. At first, she's very reserved and cautious around him, but as they get to know each other and she's more comfortable with him, Jack sees himself falling hard for her, he has quite a lot of trouble dealing with/confessing his feelings but in the end, they get together. Thanks :D”

description: in which he saves the only survivor of a sunken ship and helps her to open up to his crew

pairing: jack sparrow x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of death, ptsd, and survivor’s guilt

masterlist (one, two)

The sight of the broken ship was haunting to the usually chipper crew of the Black Pearl. They had heard the explosion before seeing the wreckage, but hoped they were wrong in thinking it was a shipwreck.

Jack watched from the wheel, trying to keep a straight face as his eyes searched the water for signs of bodies. If they could save at least one person, just one, he would call it a victory.

“Call if you see anything,” he announced to his crew. “Anything we could salvage.”

But the further they travelled into the wreckage, the more evident it became that they weren’t going to find anything - or anyone.

Jack sighed, an ache in his heart for his fellow pirates who had likely died in the shipwreck. His eyes lingered on the water a moment longer before he started to turn away from the wreckage.

“Jack!” Elizabeth exclaimed as the boat began to turn. “There’s a girl in the water!”

They pulled the floating body out of the water. Her skin was stone cold and was nearly translucent it was so pale. Jack knelt down next to her and lowered his ear to her mouth. He couldn’t hear her breathing, and her chest wasn’t moving to signify there was any life left in her body. He started pushing on her chest, breathing into her mouth and nose between the pressing against her chest.

“She’s gone Jack,” Will said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s take her somewhere to gibe her a proper burial.”

Jack sighed. He didn’t want to give up, but there seemed like no hope in his attempts. As he sat back on his knees, the girl suddenly spit up whatever water was in her lungs and started coughing as she tried to catch her breath.

“Get her something to warm her, and some dry clothes!” Jack told two of his crew members. He regarded the panicking girl with a gentle touch, pulling her attention to him. She was breathing heavily, her eyes darting between the crew members in fear before they rested on Jack. “You’re alright, you’re safe now. We’ll take care of you.”

~~~~~~

Their new passenger, unsurprisingly, kept to herself for a while after she was saved. They kept her above deck for the rest of the day in order to make sure she was okay, but once the night came, Jack insisted she have her own space so she didn’t feel smothered with everyone else’s presence.

The first night was hard. She woke up screaming from nightmares of the crash, waking everyone else on the ship with her. She refused to talk to anyone who came to comfort her, and even physically pushed them away. After that, she was left alone by everyone.

Except for Jack.

Jack would visit her regularly to bring her food, clothes, and other supplies. He would ask her how she was, ask about her past and the ship she had been travelling on. His attempts were null as she never responded, but he didn’t stop trying.

Eventually, he did get her to speak her first sentence, “My name is (Y/N).”

The more he went to her, the more (Y/N) began to open up to him. It was a slow start, and even when he could get her to start talking she didn’t discuss much about herself, but soon enough she would be excitedly waiting for Jack’s daily visit, and eventually she even started to go to him to see him.

On one day, (Y/N) was waiting in Jack’s cabin for him to return from an adventure he had gone on. She was starting to look much better than the day she had been saved from the wreckage, and even before that. Jack and his crew hadn’t seen what she was before, but if they had they definitely would’ve been happy with her progress, no matter how slow it was.

She jumped when the door to Jack’s cabin opened violently and the captain stumbled in. His clothes were torn and he was bloody on his arms and his face. He was obviously hurt, but the way he sauntered over to his desk could’ve fooled anyone.

“What happened?” (Y/N) asked, standing from Jack’s bed to approach him.

“We walked right into their trap,” Jack responded, opening his desk and pulling a bottle of rum from it. “We weren’t ready for it.”

“Is everyone else...” (Y/N) trailed off, unable to finish her sentence.

“We didn’t lose anyone,” Jack finished, knowing where she was going. “Just some injuries. They’re all being taken care of.”

He collapsed onto his chair, groaning as pain coursed through him. (Y/N) approached him and took the bottle from his hand. She retrieved the bandages from the bottom drawer in his desk and started to treat the wound on his face. Through the winces of pain, he smiled up at her.

“You know your way through my desk pretty well,” he teased.

When she smiled back at him, it was as if the entire room brightened. “I’ve watched you enough times to know where your medical supplies are, and to know that you do not know how to properly clean and dress a wound.”

“I try not to waste the rum.”

(Y/N) gave him a playful look before pouring some more of the rum over his wound. He winced and sucked in a painful breath as she dabbed the blood with a cloth before applying a bandage to it. She reached for his tattered shirt to take it off, but she hesitated a moment. Jack looked up at her, seeing that she was trying to avoid looking at him, and took off his shirt for her.

She began to clean the wounds on his chest, which luckily weren’t deep. Jack watched her as she worked, noticing a bit of strain in her face. He had seen that look many times before, usually on other pirates that had seen too much in their lifetime. He had seen it on his own father and uncle’s faces before both of them left him to his own devices.

“You’ve done this before,” he noted, although he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

(Y/N) looked up at him, her eyes wide like they had been when she was first saved. Jack regretted speaking and was about to take back his words when (Y/N) spoke.

“I was the medic on the ship you saved me from,” she said. “Whenever the crew members were hurt, I would help them.”

It was the first time she had told anyone anything about her past, especially about the ship she used to be a part of. She could feel a lump growing in her throat as she remembered the men that she had once considered a family that she would never see again.

“How long were you travelling with them?” Jack asked.

She was absentmindedly wiping his chest now, the blood already cleaned from his wounds. “Since I was a young girl. I was the daughter of their former captain. When he got too old, he resigned to life on land, but I wanted to keep travelling. I was never very strong, nor fast, so actually being a pirate was out of the question. I was eventually taught how to care for their wounds and for their sick so I could stay on board as a medic.”

As she took the bandages to wrap up Jack’s wounds, flashes of the many men she had patched up flashed before her eyes. The familiar faces and familiar smiles that she still dreamed of every night, that eventually turned to nightmares.

She looked away from Jack as tears started falling down her eyes. Jack reached up to wipe a tear with his thumb, cradling her face gently.

“They didn’t deserve to die,” she said, shaking her head. “They were good men. They weren’t violent pirates, they didn’t rob or kill anyone innocent. They took from bad people, they helped those in need. They were the most selfless men I had ever met.”

“What happened the day of the shipwreck?”

(Y/N)’s face twisted with grief as she remembered that fateful day. It was something that would always be in her memory, no matter how hard she tried to forget it.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “We thought it was just us for miles. I was below deck when the first cannonball hit the boat. I came up to try and help the best I could, but the next one hit so close to us that we became dazed. The next one...”

She trailed off, wincing at the memory of the loud explosion. When it had hit the boat, she was thrown into the water. Her men were around her, struggling to get free from the remaining intact parts of the ship. There was another explosion and everything went black. (Y/N) was so sure she was dead. Part of her wished the explosion had killed her, too.

“Probably one of the bad people that was ticked off,” Jack said, his voice soft and gentle. His wounds were dressed, but he made no effort to move to put his shirt back on. “I’m sorry you had to experience that.”

“I still have dreams about them,” (Y/N) told him. “About my crew, and about that day. I sometimes with I were one of the ones who went down with them. I wish I could’ve saved someone else besides me, or that I had joined them.”

Jack stood so that he was at eye level with her. (Y/N) couldn’t look up at him, but he gently tilted her head back so that she was.

“I’m glad we were able to save you,” he told her. “Even if this is the first time I’ve come to learn something about you, having you on this ship has made everything so much brighter. Our little visits and small conversations have made me so happy. I understand that feeling of guilt when you lose part of your crew and you couldn’t do anything to save them, although I can’t imagine the level of pain you are going through right now. But I’m glad you’re here.”

His words made her truly happy for the first time in weeks.

They looked into each other’s eyes for a long time. Jack brushed (Y/N)’s hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. He left a tingly feeling on the parts of her face that he touched. (Y/N) had never felt that before, and it made her stomach fill with butterflies and her heart flip with excitement.

Before they could stop themselves, Jack leaned in for a kiss and (Y/N) met him half way. He placed one of his hands on the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her hair as he kissed her deeply. She wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. Her body pressed against his in a way that almost made him fall backwards into the chair again.

Jack finally pulled away first, gazing down into her eyes again. “Was that too much?”

(Y/N) giggled. “No. I really enjoyed it actually.”

“Me too,” Jack admitted. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

“I would have thought a self proclaimed ladies man like you would’ve just taken the opportunity to kiss me long ago.”

Jack chuckled at this. “I may be a ladies man, but I am still respectful. You were grieving, I wasn’t going to take advantage of that.”

(Y/N) smiled at him. She pulled out of his embrace and passed him a shirt that was completely intact. “I appreciate all you have done for me, Jack. If you will have me, I would love to stay on the ship and be your medic.”

Jack smiled at her as he slipped the shirt on. “I was planning on asking you to stay regardless of what role you would play. Although, if you would like, I could also offer you a second role while you stay here.”

“And what role would that be?”

Jack kissed her lips again. “I wonder.”

(Y/N) was beaming as she looked up at him. “I would love to stay here with you Jack. I want nothing more than to travel the world with you, or to even be wherever you are.”

“Then it is decided,” he said. “You will stay with me forever.”

(Y/N) nodded. “Forever.”

[ray-ray-writings]

Ghost of You-SBI AU Imagine

To the anon that requested this, why would you rip my heart out like this? 

This is a Father!Philza x Brother!Technoblade x Brother!Wilbur x Brother!Tommy in the dreamsmp. In this you’re younger than Wilbur and Techno but older than Tommy. This is pretty sad with only a slightly happy ending… Just a warning. 

Masterlist here 

Three cannon lives. Some argue it’s too many, some argue it’s not enough. But once Y/N loses all theirs, everyone can agree that there’s never enough

Y/N’s POV

It wasn’t supposed to end like this. I was only supposed to go out and find a new village. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. I was in a desert searching for a village like I said. I couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t stop myself from kicking the dead bushes and collecting the sticks they dropped. I don’t know why. But it made me so happy to do so. Made me feel like a kid. But I kicked a bush and the sand underneath me moved. I wasn’t fast enough. I fell. I fell and fell into the ravine with nothing to stop the fall damage. I didn’t have a bucket of water or a hay bale or anything. I wasn’t expecting to fall. It wasn’t supposed to happen. I could remember my scream echoing off of the stone walls and then nothing. Nothing at all. 

*POV Switch*

Third Person POV

The whole server was gathered at the remains of L’Manberg. They were deciding what to do with the giant whole in the ground. There was light chatter in the air. Jokes and laughter danced through the crowd as they all got along once. But then it changed. Everything shifted as a notification dinged on everyone's arm. 

By habit, all heads turned to the arm to see it. Immediately all noise stopped. Everyone froze at the message that popped up on their right arm. Surely this had to be some sort of sick joke, right? There is no possible way it was real. 

Y/N fell from a high place

They all knew. They all knew that you were on your last life. You lost your first one in the original L’Manberg war and then lost another in the most recent war due to a wither, Techno still felt very guilty about that. If what the message said is true, then you just lost your last life. “No” the silence was broken by a desperate whisper escaping Philza’s lips. “No!” He cried out a little louder this time. “I can’t… I can’t lose another. No please,” He begged no one in particular. If you listened closely, you could hear everyone’s hearts break at the sound of the desperate father. Even Dream felt the heavy weight on his chest. 

You were so young. Not quite a minor, but young nonetheless. How dare you be taken away from them? Philza broke out into a run to your house, blubbering, begging for you to be there. Techno and Tommy also followed their father in a sprint, silently begging that you would be alright, that this was just some sick joke. Ghostbur didn’t quite understand what was happening, but he followed at a much slower pace. 

Slowly, everyone broke up from the group and went to their respective homes, the business could be conducted another day. They all attempted to go about their own business as normal as possible, but when the heart wrenching scream of Philza sounded from your house, everyone knew…. You were gone. Really actually gone. 

*POV switch*

Y/N’s POV

I woke to a scream. A scream I had never heard before but I somehow knew who it was. It was my father. Why was my father screaming in my home? And why was I so cold? It only took a simple look down to understand why. Had this happened a few months prior, I wouldn’t know what was happening, but because of Ghostbur, I knew. I knew I was a ghost. That confused me too though. Why was it that I could remember everything and Ghostbur remembered nothing? 

I got out of my bed. I couldn’t help but give a dark chuckle. That’s where my reset spawn was and I guess that’s where I respawned even as a… ghost. I almost couldn’t believe it. I lost all my lives. I’m dead. 

I slowly left my room and walked downstairs. There I found my father, sobbing on the ground. My brother’s crowded around him, tears also streaming down their cheeks. I could feel my non beating heart break at the sight. I had never seen my father so distraught, not even when he killed Wilbur. That was something he was forced to do. It was something Wilbur wanted. Yes, Dadza was sad about it. But it was something that had to be done. Something that was for the best. But this? This was unexpected. I was only supposed to be gone for a few hours. I was supposed to come back. 

“Dad” I breathed out, causing all heads to snap to me. A single sob escaped Philza’s lips as he scrambled up from the floor and ran toward me. “Dad, wait!” I tried to stop him, holding my arms out, but it did no good. Philza ran right through me. In one way and out the other. Another loud sob echoed out of his lips. “Y/N” he cried out as I turned around to face him. He held his hands out to try and hug me, but stopped. He instead wrapped his arms around himself in a tight hug, “What happened?” His voice cracked. 

And so I told him. I told him the truth. Even though it was a really lame way to die, I told him the truth. Small sniffs left his lips as I told my story. When I was done, Philza spoke again, “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I sent you out to find that village. Had I not done that, you wouldn’t be dead. You wouldn’t be a ghost.” “Dadza” I breathed out, “It’s not your fault. It’s really not. You couldn’t have known, and neither could I. I should have been paying more attention, but I wasn’t and that’s the price I have to pay. At least I’m still here. I may be dead, but I’m here,” I did my best to comfort my father. He let out another sniff and nodded, “Yeah… that’s true. But I still can’t help but feel guilty…” 

I turned around and faced my brothers. They were staring at me in shock. “Hey Y/N” Wilbur greeted brightly, walking over. “How are you? Why do you look different?” I couldn’t help but laugh at my brother’s ghostie innocence, “I’m okay Ghostbur… I look different now because I’m a ghost. Just like you,” I informed him. Ghostbur gasped, “No way! We’re twinsies now! Move over Techno I’ve got a new twin.” Techno took a few steps forward toward us. “Yeah Ghostbur, we’re twins now” I responded softly, watching Techno. 

My pink headed brother stopped right in front of me, staring at me. In his eyes I could see the tears pooling. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. I knew that he was not only talking about this death, but my second one as well. “It’s not your fault either Tech” I told him in the most comforting voice I could. 

Tommy came up behind Techno and stared at me with angst in his eyes. “Y/N… It wasn’t your time” He whispered. A sad smile appeared on my lips as I nodded, “Apparently it was Tommy. But it’s okay. I’m still here, and I’ll always be here for you,” I tried to comfort. A sad laugh escaped Tommy’s lips. “God, I’ve never wished I could give you a hug harder than I’m wishing right now.” “Me too Tommy. Me too” 

The sweet moment was broken by a small gasp behind us. I turned around and found an excited look on Ghostbur’s face, “Maybe we can hug! Since I’m a ghost and you’re a ghost,” Ghostbur claimed with a huge smile. Huh… Maybe. “Worth a shot,” I claimed with a shrug before walking over to Wilbur. 

Before I could prep myself, Ghostbur’s arms wrapped around me in a solid hug. Once he realized that we weren’t just going through each other, he let out another excited gasp. “It’s working! I can hug you! I can actually hug someone! This is the best day ever!” He yells. I couldn’t help but laugh at his phrasing, this is the best day ever huh? I couldn’t blame him, he was excited about getting to touch someone after weeks of zero contact. 

When I pulled away from the hug, I found that my father had made his way to my alive siblings and wrapped his arms around them. A soft smile rested on his face, the tear tracks gleaming off of his cheeks. “It’s going to be okay,” I promised, giving him a small head nod. Dadza returned one with a soft sigh, “I know. I just wish we could be okay with the alive you.” “So do I, but I guess you’ll just have to deal with the ghost of me for now.” I teased gently, walking over, just to be near the three. A soft chuckle rumbled through each of them. “Yeah, I guess we’ll just have to deal with the ghost of you… For now” 

There you go, I hope you enjoyed! If so, be sure to leave a like, maybe even a reblog or a reply telling me what you liked!

[americasmarauders]

What about ....

“i’m not worthy of anybody’s love.” “that’s not true, you’re worthy of mine.” followed by the lover breaking eye-contact… + a love confession

Followed with tentative kisses in the dark

With Jason Todd x reader ❤❤❤❤❤

Lots of love xoxo

did this get completly out of hand? yes, yes it did. It was supposed to be short and sweet, but suddenly I had 12 pages of angst ready to make their way into the world. 

I’m so sorry it took so long, elle, life got in my way, but now you have like, 6k+ words to make up for it. I really hope you like it.

warnings: completly unedited, sorry for the typos :))

words: 6,856

masterlist #

#

Aged 14, sometime in September.

Mason Anderson was the biggest dick she had ever met. He was petty and jealous and he picked on her just because. She just wanted peace, quietly resolving  the homework she had spent an entire week working on. The library was empty, safe for a couple of other students when he barged in and robbed her of her papers. 

He claimed he needed it more than her, he was the one almost flunking out of the class. She demanded her homework back, but he ran towards the boy’s bathroom with her work. It wasn’t the first time that sullen feeling of despair had been planted on her by Mason Anderson, it still didn’t make it any easier. 

She sat in front of the boys bathroom, hugging her knees in an attempt to find comfort. She kept thinking that she could do it again, she had done it once, theoretically it would be faster to do it a second time. Light footsteps echoed through the hall, her eyes found their way to the source of the noise. 

Jason Todd was a tiny kid with a big brain and an even bigger heart. He had helped her with English more times than she cared to admit. Sometimes she would see him walking towards the alley near the Academy, holding an extra package of chips to the little kid that stayed there sometimes. She liked Jason Todd, considering him the only alley she had inside the cold walls of the Gotham Academy. 

“What’re you doing here?” he asked, delicately, sitting beside her. “I thought you were gonna finish Statam’s paper today.”

“Mason Anderson stole it,” her eyes were cast downwards, looking at the seams of the floor with an almost inhuman interest. “He wanted to copy it, and I wouldn’t let him so he decided to flush down the toilet instead.”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered to her, sitting next to her on the floor. 

“It’s okay,” she shook her head, stretching her legs in front of her. “I just,” she sighed, trying to find the words, “I spent one week working on that, and I really needed the grade, you know? But he just didn’t care, he just thought of himself.”

Jason looked at her, softly. His eyes held a certain fire behind them, something she could never really describe what it was. It was entrancing, it calmed the pace of her heart.  He didn’t say anything before getting up and marching towards the boys bathroom. 

She didn’t hear anything going on inside, her mind imagining all sorts of scenarios where Jason would emerge from the bathroom beaten and defeated, Mason walking out completely victorious, with a shiny top grade Literature paper in hand. Her blood boiled at the image, more so than it did before. She got up from the ground, determined to help Jason win the fight, even if her papers were already down the plumbing. 

But the door flung open, her friend walking out calmly, clutching her homework delicately. He offered her a smile, and as the door closed behind Jason she could see Mason on the ground gripping his nose in pain. 

“Here,” the papers were completely dry to the touch, her confusion deepening. “He was copyin’ it.”

“I can’t believe you got this back,” she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. “I thought… I thought I'd have to redo it.”

“Nah,” he smiled shyly, “I would’ve helped ya.”

“I can’t really depend on you for everything, Jason,” she replied politely. “It’s not fair.”

“I got your back,” he affirmed, “ya don’t need to worry.”

And it meant the world to her that he did. 

#

#

Aged 16, October 12th. 

Jason Todd and her became friends after the Mason Anderson incident. She didn’t know what Jason had said to him, what had he done, all she knew was that Mason never bothered her again after that. 

It was the night of her 16th birthday. It was late, probably past 3 in the morning when Jason carefully landed on the fire escape that led to her bedroom. He carefully carried a small box, wrapped neatly with a blue bow. He had chosen the gift lovingly, his heart warm with her. Jason hadn’t expected her to be such an integral part of his life, but just as quietly as she arrived, she placed herself in his heart permanently. She was his friend, true friend, she didn’t expect anything other than his company and support, something he was glad to provide. 

His knuckles lightly grazed her window, making the softest noise.  Her shades were partially open, he could see her body lying comfortably on her bed. She moved slightly, her body turning towards the window. Her hands rubbed her eyes delicately, seeing Jason smile awkwardly at her. She got up and dragged her feet towards him, opening her window to him. 

“What’re you doing here?” her voice was slurred, intoxicated with sleep. 

“You know, you should really lock your windows,” he commented, “Gotham’s a dangerous city.”

“Jay,” she warned, “what’re you doing here? It’s…”she searched for her clock, “fuck, 3 in the morning.”

“It’s your birthday,” he responded clearly, as if it was the most obvious reason why he was on her fire escape, on a cold October night only wearing a light jacket.

She blinked at his blunt response, confused on what to say to him. “You’ll see me tomorrow, Jay, I don’t understand why’d you come all this way just to see me.”

“Because it’s you,” he shrugged, stepping into her bedroom silently. “You really thought I wouldn’t see you on your birthday?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered, looking down at her feet. A soft breeze came in through the window sending shivers down her spine. Jason closed the window for her and she sent a silent thank you towards his way. “I thought you wouldn’t bother.”

“Well,” he extended the little box to her. Her fingers brushed on his softly, a shock sent on his skin at the touch, “I couldn’t not see you.”

Her hands hugged the box carefully, hesitant on what to do with what was given to her. “Open it,” he urged her. 

She eyed him suspiciously, undoing carefully the blue bow that decorated the gift. Opening the box, a tiny robin pendant next to two tiny stones pendants, an opal and an onyx: her birthstone and his. “Wow,” she breathed out, her heart racing inside her chest. Suddenly, she didn’t feel sleepy anymore. “Jason, this is… You didn’t have to.”

“Of course I had,” he stated, his eyes soft and loving, lingering on her more than they should. “You mean a lot to me, darling.”

Her eyes glinted underneath the pale moonlight streaming through the half closed curtains of her room. Jason’s breath hitched quietly at the sight of her, disheveled and sleepy and yet the most perfect person to grace his life. She was at a loss for words for a few moments, opening and closing her mouth, not knowing how to react. Her eyes trailed frenetically over the pendants, trying to find meaning in those.

“Why a robin?” the inquiry startled Jason. He wasn’t expecting to explain himself, much less explain why he had given her a robin pendant. She had no clue what he did when the night fell, who Bruce actually was and he intended to keep her in the dark about that aspect of his life. She didn’t need to know anyway, and telling her would only put her in danger. That was what Bruce made her believe. 

“It reminded me of you,” he answered, simply, his eyes fixated on her angelic face. 

It wasn’t untrue. Robins were friendly and protected over, birds that should never be harmed. Jason made sure of that, he had her back, always, and he knew she had his. But mostly, he wanted her to have a piece of him everywhere she went. If something were to happen, he wanted to guarantee he wouldn’t be a footnote in her life. What a magnificent life that would be, he knew.

Her eyes ran on his face, looking for a hint that he wasn’t sincere, that he was just messing with her. The thought was more heartbreaking than she anticipated. She found nothing malicious in his face, in his eyes, and smiled back at him. “Thank you, Jay,” she kissed his cheek delicately, her lips barely brushing his skin. It was enough to send both of them into a frenzy of feelings, a thousand thoughts running through their heads. 

“Here,” he extended his hands, his eyes clear and full of emotion for her, “I’ll put it on for you.”

She handed him the box, turning around so he could clasp the hook of the necklace. Jason was considerably smaller than her - she guessed it was because of the years of malnutrition he endured when he lived on the streets - so she sat on her bed to meet his height. His fingers brushed slightly at the back of her neck, sending goosebumps on her body.

It was when she turned to look at him again that she realized that maybe Jason wasn’t just a friend to her. Maybe the interest she had in Jason, or how her heart raced when she saw him for the first time in the day weren’t because he was her friend. Maybe it was because she had decided to love him with all her soul. 

#

#

Aged 16, April 28th.

It was ironic how sunny it was in Gotham that day. It was like nothing had happened, the world hadn’t gotten the memo that it was supposed to be gloomy and sad outside, to match the pain she felt inside. 

On the deep green grass of Gotham cemetery, stood her and Jason’s family, listening to a priest preach something meaningless to her. Nothing mattered to her anymore, her friend, best friend, was buried deep into the earth, 6 feet under. She would never get to see him again, hear his laugh, take in his smile. She would never have another birthday with him, give him his favorite books, tell him she loved him. Her eyes were fixed on the fresh dirt lain over his shiny coffin, her hand fidgeting on the robin pendant Jason had gifted mer  months before. It wasn’t an open casket, she couldn’t even see him for the last time. 

The call was the most confusing moment she had ever gone through. He didn't even tell her he was going after his mom. He didn’t even get to explain that to her. Jason just burst through her window late at night, saying he was leaving Gotham for a few weeks, anger seeping through his pores and contaminating the room. His knuckles were badly bruised, as her fingertips lightly brushed he hissed. She didn’t question him, it didn’t even go through her head. He had said he wanted to find a part of him, and she nodded, wishing him luck. 

Looking back, she wished she had begged him to stay, to find that part of him in Gotham, with her away from the perils of foreign bombs. Tears sprouted in her eyes as the thought passed through her head. It wasn’t her fault, she couldn’t predict a tragedy would have happened. It had become a mantra to her, and sometimes repeating it to herself didn’t help at all.

Bruce Wayne stood next to her, stoic, his face stony. It almost didn’t look like he had lost a son. But she saw how his jaw tensed, how it was similar to when Jason was upset and didn’t want to tell her about it. She could see how broken he was inside, how angry and desperate. She felt that too. 

The priest stopped talking and the four people standing on that lawn let out a stuck breath of relief. Jason’s brother approached his Father, walking away from her. She stared at the stone, cold like Jason’s body, with the engrave ‘Jason Todd, beloved son and friend’. It didn’t make justice to what Jason actually was, he was much more than just a son and a friend, but it was what they used to describe him. If Jason had decided what his epitaph would be, surely would be a dramatic quote from Shakespeare. 

Her name was called out in a posh british accent and she turned toward the person. What she saw was an older gentleman, holding a black umbrella to protect his baldness from the sun. A thin mustache hung over his upper lip, molded into a sad frown. “I’m Alfred Pennyworth. Master Jason talked a lot about you,” he commented with his left hand behind his back.

“All good things, I hope?” she joked quietly, her eyes trailed to her black shoes, wet grass glued to the sides of it. 

“The best things, I assure,” his voice was firm and calm, his accent oozed her security, something she was eager to cling on. He reached for the inner pocket of his blazer, pulling a crisp white card. She furrowed her eyebrows, accepting the card. On it, it had Alfred’s name, his profession underneath and a phone number. “If you ever find yourself needing anything, I’ll be happy to help.”

She nodded, her thumb lightly brushing the expensive paper on her hand. “Thank you Mister Pennyworth,” her eyes found the old man, the wrinkles around it making his stern stance seem gentler. “Thank you.”

“Would you like to come over for some tea?” he offered. “I’m sure Master Bruce wouldn’t mind having his son’s friend over.”

She wanted to, a force inside her compelled her to accept his offer. But her heart was broken, and she didn’t know if she was ready to enter what used to be Jason’s home so fast after he was buried. At the same time, maybe she didn’t have the nerve to say no to such a kind person. “I--,” she hesitated, “okay, I’ll have some tea.”

#

#

Aged 18, mid-August.

“I don’t know what to do, Alfred,” her hands fiddling with the necklace Jason had given her long ago. “It feels like I’m at a crossroads and every sign points to the direction my heart doesn’t want to go.”

The old butler poured her mint tea - her favorite, as he had learned over the weekly visits she paid him - calmly and firmly as she ranted. “What is holding you back?”

She looked at Alfred, her eyes confused at the question. She hadn’t lingered on the fact of why she didn’t want to accept the scholarship on Metropolis. Her brain told her it was only logical, she would miss her parents, her weekly meeting with Alfred, her hometown. But Alfred was always one step ahead, he had a sixth sense as she had come to learn. “You know,” she replied softly, her eyes lingering on the beautiful teacup in front of her. 

He said her name, getting her attention. “Master Jason isn’t here anymore,” he stated simply, laying cookies on her plate, “you don’t have to stay behind for him.”

“I know,” she picked up the spoon and twirled it between her fingers. “But,” she hesitated, not knowing how to phrase her feelings, “Alfred, I can’t even think of it. I can’t wrap my brain around leaving him.”

“You are not leaving him,” his voice was calm and gentle, softening her panic. “You are moving on.”

She shook her head, her eyes shut close tightly. “It doesn’t feel like it,” she whispered, “I feel like I’m meant to be here, Alfred. I can’t really explain it.”

“Well, if you do decide to stay in Gotham, I hope we can continue our weekly teas,” Alfred said, a tone of hope in his voice. 

She smiled at him, her eyes filled with kindness. “If I do decide to stay, I’d love to keep our weekly teas,” her smile stayed as she uttered the words. “I appreciate our time together, Alfred.”

“I’m honored,” he said to her, bringing the teacup to his lips.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind her and she turned around to see who it was. Turning around, her hand bringing the teacup to her lips, she saw a disheveled Bruce Wayne walking towards her. His eyes were barely opened, prominent bags under his eyes cast a shadow on his features. His tie hung untied on his neck, his shirt over his pants, the sleeves folded up to his elbows. It was a stark contrast from the Bruce Wayne she had seen at Jason's funeral, two years back, the one she saw frequently splattered on the news front pages.  

“Oh,” he stopped on his tracks, his hands falling limply to his sides. His jaw tensed and, suddenly, a mask fell on his face, the vulnerability he displayed a few seconds before gone. He wasn’t anymore Bruce, a guy who had just woken up and wanted something from the kitchen of his oversized home, he was the Bruce Wayne, now. The velocity of the transformation haunted her. “I didn’t realize we had visitors.”

She rested the teacup pack on the counter, and got up from the stool. “I’m so sorry Mr. Wayne,” she muttered, extending her hand, introducing herself. “I am, was, Jason’s friend.”

“Yes, yes,” he nodded, “I remember you.”

Alfred looked pointenly at Bruce as pulled a mug from a cabinet. He poured coffee for himself, and leaned against the counter next to Alfred. She stood there next to her stool, paralyzed in his presence. Everytime she was present in Wayne Manor, Bruce was either too busy to ever grace them with his presence, or away on some business trip she never bothered to ask what for. “We have weekly teas, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, his tone laced with something deeper than announcing their weekly traditions. 

Bruce’s jaw tightened somehow and his blue eyes rested on her. Her eyes drifted to her teacup, her tea getting cold. She was itching to grab it and drink it, but she felt uncomfortable even moving a inch from her place, much less feeling the liberty to resume her previous behavior. “Really?” his eyebrows shot up, his head tilting slightly. “Please, seat, pretend I’m not here.”

She hesitated before sitting back down. Her hands hugged her teacup, the warmth of it seeping through her skin. It was hard to pretend he was not there next to her, looking at her with judging eyes. She wondered if he remembered her from the funeral, if he had thought of her when he was thinking of Jason’s legacy, what his son had left behind. Her eyes looked up at Bruce before quickly darting back down to her tea, “Yeah, I don’t really wanna go to Metropolis,” she whispered, resuming her previous conversation with Alfred. The air in the kitchen was tense and awkward, she couldn’t look any of them men in the room in the eyes. 

“I’m certain Gotham U will admit you,” Alfred reassured her, “You’re a brilliant person, they’d be fools to let you go.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” her eyes were focused on the tea, like it was the most important thing in that kitchen. “They usually don’t take this long to send the letters, it’s making me nervous.”

“Gotham U, huh?” Bruce chipped in. “What’s your major?”

She looked expantly at Alfred, trying to see if he knew any of Bruce’s intentions. But she often forgot how impassive Alfred was, how in control of his emotions he was, something she lacked. He didn’t show her anything, she assumed he knew of something, like usually. “Applied physics,” she responded, quietly. 

“Wow,” Bruce breathed out, “impressive.”

She offered him an awkward smile in return. It was hard to find a response to the reaction of others when they became aware of her major. It was highly uncommon, and usually those who followed that path were men. When people discovered what she wanted to do with her life, they almost always reacted like they had found an unicorn.

“Well, when you do graduate, look for me, I can help you get a job,” Bruce politely offered, his tone kind. She looked up at him for the first time, his expression almost fatherly. 

“Thank you Mr. Wayne, that’s very kind of you,” she bored her head, looking down at her tea once again. 

His phone rang, and he picked it up from his pocket. Her eyes trailed over to his expression, his jaw once again tense. “You’re welcome,” he replied, feigning happiness and comfort. “If you’ll excuse me,” he left the kitchen in broad steps, his shoulders tense and determined. 

That was the first time she came to the conclusion that Bruce Wayne was a strange man. 

#

#

Aged 22, end of May.

College was an excruciating experience, but finally she had left it all behind. With her diploma in hands, she finally felt a small semblance of freedom, something she had longed when isinde the four walls of her old dorm in Gotham U. 

She stepped into the ground floor of Wayne towers, her shoes clicking nervously on the floor. She had made sure to dress properly to meet Bruce Wayne, unsure of what he’d think if she showed up dressed like a broke college student, something that she very much was. It was the mentality of fake it till you make it, aim a bit higher and maybe you’ll get there. She desperately wished she’d get there.

One of the receptionists let her in, indicating the floor in which she should go to. Her hands sweat gripping the folder with her recommendations and her resume, she gulped looking at the elevator intently. Her free hand found its way to the tiny robin gently resting on her neck. She wished Jason was there to help her, give her tips on what to say to his Father to make him glad, and what to avoid doing so that he’d hire her. She could imagine him if she closed her eyes, next to her, barely taller than her, smiling at her wishing her good luck. The elevator dinged, bringing her back to reality. Jason wasn’t next to her, and she didn’t have anyone to give her tips on what to say to her potential boss. She was alone, just like she had been for six long years. 

In spite of the hundred floors of the building - quite literally - the elevator ride was fast. When the doors opened, it revealed a small greeting room, with a couple of couches and a tall window illuminating it. She eyed directly in front of her, the double doors with a tiny plaque with the name Bruce Wayne engraved on it. Her eyes lingered on it for a couple of moments, as she walked towards the lonesome couch next to the big window. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the beating heart. She wondered if Bruce was already inside the room, if he remembered what he had offered to her all those years ago, or if he had just been polite and did not plan on following with it at all. 

After that strange meeting with him four years back, she had barely seen him again. A couple of times she had seen a shadow passing through the corridors while she was heading out of the Manor, someone she assumed for the sake of her mental health it was Bruce Wayne and not a ghost. The notion that he was a strange man only intensified, adding the perception that he was hiding something. She knew he was a good actor, but she could see tiny cracks and slips, an ability gained from years of loneliness. It was hard to say what it was that he was keeping a secret from everyone, but there was something there. 

Her name was called and she saw Bruce Wayne standing underneath the frame of the double doors that lead to his office. She got up promptly and walked towards him, her grip on her folder tight. His hand was extended and she shook it professionally, pretending like she wasn’t panicking inside. 

“I have someone I’d like for you to meet,” he stated, guiding her inside his office. The office was probably four times bigger than the small room she had stayed previously, the large windows providing a beautiful view from Gotham. You could almost pretend it was a normal city looking out from that window. “This,”  he motioned to the man sitting on a cozy nook in the back of the room, “is Lucius Fox.”

The man was big and well built, his round glasses standing on the tip of his nose. He smiled at her, crinkles forming beside his eyes. His hand found his glasses, taking them off and putting them in his pocket. “Nice to meet you, Miss. mr. Wayne has talked a lot about you,” he stated, his hand extended for her to take it. 

She looked back at Bruce, confused. After all, he remembered her and he remembered his offer. She turned back to Lucius and shook his hand, a determined expression on her face. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Fox.”

“Lucius Fox is the head of our R&D department, and has agreed to take you as his personal apprentice,” Bruce explained. 

Shock overcame her, her eyes wide. She looked between Lucius’ kind smile and Bruce’s stoic stance, unable to believe the opportunity was real. “Really?” she uttered incredulously. 

“I have some personal projects and I’d very much need the help,” Lucius explained, calmly. “Mr. Wayne has talked highly of you, I’m eager to see what you’re capable of doing.”

“I--,” she shook her head, trying to get rid of the hesitation, “thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome,” Bruce responded, a small smile gracing his lips. “I’m sure you’ll do great.”

#

#

Aged 24, April 26th.

The humid air of the cave made sweat drip down her face as she tinkered away with a broken gadget she had designed for Bruce’s night time activities, as she had so dearly called it. 

It was a new development, the cave and the capes and the vigilantism. The two years she invested working with Lucius all served a greater purpose to Bruce. She was to be the next Lucius Fox, help provide Batman, or rather Bruce - in her head it was still confusing to assume that the guy who had given her a job was the ‘Dark Knight’ - with gadgets capable of doing everything that his physical capabilities couldn’t. Lucius was old and reaching retirement, and even if he loved his job, he was reaching his limit. She was beyond grateful for his guidance, she had learned so much. But he had left her a fucking weird job. There was no other way to describe it. 

The cave was quiet, Bruce had left sometime before, she could only hear Alfred quietly talking to Bruce through the comms and the drip-drip of water falling from the ceiling and hitting the small lake underneath her. She had settled in a little abandoned nook, her tools all scattered on top of her table. She rested the screw driver she was working with on the table, lifting the magnifying lens. She rubbed her face, tired of looking towards the tiny malfunctioning screen.

Her hands remained on her face, concealing her emotions. The robin pendant always felt especially heavy on the 26th of April. It had been 8 years since she had seen Jason, and as pathetic as it sounded, she never really got over the loss of him. They always felt particularly lost, she couldn’t focus on anything other than him, running circles around any problem presented to her. Looking at the gadget, it felt nearly impossible to find a solution to it, her mind foggy with sadness and grief that she could never really shake off, even with years between her and the day he had died. 

The knowledge that Bruce kept everything as Jason had left, and even made a little homage to his Robin days in a secret corner of the cave, hidden from view, was heavy in her heart. She struggled to keep her eyes trailed to her task and not at the memory of Jason. She took a sharp breath, trying desperately to sew herself together. It was truly pathetic how much it still affected her, how open the wound still was. 

A sharp motor sound echoed through the walls of the cave, disturbing the few bats that hung from the ceiling. A guy built like a fucking brick wall parked his bike on the platform, taking long strides towards where Alfred stood. He adorned a cracked red helmet that glistened in the white lights that illuminated the pathway. His heavy footsteps echoed through, her eyes unable to escape from him. She approached silently, praying that that loose panel near the little stairs that lead to the main computer wouldn’t scratch underneath her weight. 

“Where the fuck is Bruce?” he growled, his hands balled into fists next to him. His leather jacket was worn and old, its sleeves bunched up near his elbow, exposing his veiny forearms. The cracked part of the helmet revealed his blue eyes, sparkling in a familiar way. It tugged her heartstrings, her hand instinctively went to her robin. It couldn’t be, Jason was dead. 

“He’s on patrol, Master Jason,” Alfred said calmly, his eyes trailed to the screens in front of him. Alfred acted like this man’s fits of anger were completely normal. 

Her brain repeated that it wasn’t Jason, it was a mere coincidence that this man’s name was the same as her dead best friend’s. Jason was a tiny and scrawny kid, he wasn’t tall and thick like this man. Jason wasn’t bitter and prone to anger fits, even if he was angry most of the time. He was silent and kind and sweet, this man looked to be the opposite of it. 

“He promised, Alfred, where is he?” he growled, his fist slamming on the table. “He fucking promised.”

“I’m sure he’ll arrive soon, if you’d like to wait,” Alfred motioned to the medical bay, the gurney sitting there on its lonesome. The man huffed, marching to the gurney, otherwise ignoring her presence a few feet away. 

She approached Alfred quietly. “Who was that?” her voice laced with curiosity and fear. 

Alfred looked at her serenely, knowing something she didn’t. He smiled at her, teh crinkles around his eyes appearing generously. “Why don’t you find out?,” he responded to her camly. 

She took it as an order, and made her way towards the small infirmary area. Her footsteps were light and determined, her hand clutching the robbing resting on her chest tightly. Her brain ran over scenarios on how likely it was that this person had almost every physical attribute to her best friend Jason, if he had taken steroids for the past 8 years. It wasn’t likely, but in light of her new knowledge, of how close the supernatural was to her, it was very much possible. 

“Do you want me to take a look?” she asked quietly, shifting the weight from her heels to the tips of her toes. She felt so small in his presence, something she didn’t feel with Bruce, oddly. Maybe it was because Bruce didn’t give off such menacing vibes when he was near her, or maybe it was because her brain was unconsciously comparing this man to her Jason, who had always been smaller than her. “At the helmet, I mean.”

He eyed her surgically, analyzing everything about her. His eyes rested on her pendants, widening slightly in recognition. It took almost everything in her to control her beating heart, to control her brain trying to say that in fact that man before her was her Jason, and it wasn’t her brain playing tricks on her. 

He gently took his helmet off, revealing his crisp black hair cooly laying on his forehead. His eyes focused on the helmet, his arms extended to give it to her gently. Her eyes would leave his face, a face she had longed to see for eight excruciatingly long years. His eyes had remained the same, after all: kind and sweet. His face, however, told a story of hardships and pain, hardened by whatever he had been through all these years. She didn’t know how to feel, if she should feel betrayed he hadn't trusted her enough to say that he was alive, that he was six feet under anymore, or if she should feel elated that Jason was alive and she could finally tell him all the things she wanted to.

Her fingers brushed him slightly, as she picked up the broken helmet from his hands. His hands still felt the same, her heart noticed, picking up a beat. She looked at the crack that exposed half of his face, the electrical parts fizzling dangerously. Her eyes focused on Jason once again, her lips shut painfully. The tears that came to her eyes were inevitable, trembling fingers reaching at her robin pendant, clutching it tightly. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t,” he shook his head gently, “it’s not your fault.”

She could see he wanted to touch her, but something held him back. She wouldn’t find out what until much later.  

#

#

Aged 24, August 16th. 

Jason had promised her he would show up, and he never broke his promises. That was what she repeated to herself, late at night. She had prepared everything for his birthday, bought a present for him and baked a cake. She had said that he was supposed to appear at seven. It was well past midnight, the cake had found its way back to the fridge, the present was back in her closet, and he hadn’t showed up yet. 

A part of her kept telling her to give up, her best friend had stood her up: Jason changed fundamentally, he wasn’t the same boy he was when she met him and it was foolish to hang on to that notion; it was perfectly plausible that he had the habit of breaking promises now.  But she was well aware of that, she saw it in the tiny things how much Jason was transformed, it still didn’t change the fact that she knew he valued loyalty above all else, and that included loyalty to his words. He wouldn’t break his promise to her. 

She changed out of the cute dress she was wearing, feeling foolish and sad that she was about to give up most of the hope that he would show up. Her pyjamas welcomed her comfortably, a safe space to let the heartbreak settle on her. He won’t break his promise, she repeated mentally, he won’t. The mantra did little to soothe the growing dread inside her, the notion that maybe she didn’t know him as well as she did. That he didn’t tell her everything that day, that he didn’t trust her anymore. It hurt more than she anticipated. 

Sleep was almost consuming her when she heard a loud clang outside her bedroom. She shook awake, throwing the covers off her instinctively. Her hand grabbed the baseball bat that rested beside her bed, bringing it up and close to her. With slow steps, she approached the window. Her fear settled when she saw the familiar red helmet staring back at her, begging to let him in. She dropped the bat on the floor, opening the window. 

He got in her room awkwardly, struggling to pass his huge frame through a tiny space. She reached to help him, offering her hands. He took them, butterflies running amok on her tummy. “You’re late,” she commented, trying to mask the hurt in her voice. 

“I know,” he said, taking off his helmet and dropping it on top of her bed. “I’m sorry.”

She hummed looking at him underneath the moonlight seeping through her window. She hadn’t gotten used to how big he became, and how smaller she felt in his presence. She was by no means a small woman, but his entire being could encapsulate her with a simple hug, and not the other way around like it used to be. “Why are you late?” she moved to sit on the bed, the helmet rolling off the bed delicately. 

He looked at her, sitting down next to her gently. “I don’t know,” he answered, rubbing his hands together, his elbows resting on his thighs. 

“Why do I feel like you’re not being honest with me?” her head tilted, looking at his beautiful profile. There was a scar connecting his right temple to the corner of his upper lip, and it made him even more beautiful than he already was. He fascinated her to no end, his brain, his looks, his entire being was what made her keep going, the light on the end of her tunnel. 

His eyes trailed over her face, looking for something she guessed he wouldn’t find. “Why are you always so nice to me?”

“What do you mean, Jason,” she breathed out, confused at the inquiry. “I’m your friend, I’m supposed to be nice to you.”

“No, you’re not,” he shook his head, his hands balled into fists and his eyes closed. “You’re not supposed to be kind to me,” he got up, his back towards her.

“Stop it, Jason, you’re scaring me,” she whispered, her voice shaking a bit. 

“You’re supposed to be angry at me. I abandoned you, left you alone, and when I came back I didn’t tell you, I didn’t look for you,” he continued, trying to manipulate her emotions.

“Why are you saying these things, Jason, they’re not true,” she got up, her voice no longer shaking, determined and focused. 

“Because I don’t deserve it,” he turned to her, his eyes tortured and sad. “I don’t deserve your kindness and friendship. I’m not worthy of it.”

“Jay, I--” she started, but Jason interrupted her. 

“Don’t, please. I’m not worthy of anyone’s love,” his voice was heavy with emotion. She discovered that Jason was often ruled by two main emotions: sadness and anger. In that moment, she could only see those in him and a part of her broke.

“That’s not true, you’re worthy of mine,” her voice was so honest and raw, it caught Jason by surprise. She didn’t know what he expected out of her at that moment, maybe to give in to his spiral of bad thoughts and self flagellation, but she refused to let him believe those awful things. “Jason, you really don't know?”

He remained in silence, his eyes wide and shocked, focused on the ground. His jaw was tense and his hands balled into fists tightly. She took a hesitant step towards him, reaching for his hands. They relaxed under her touch and she threaded her fingers through his. It wasn’t hard to notice how perfectly they fit with each other, like to halves of a whole. “I’ve loved you ever since I was 14 and you marched into the boys bathroom to get my lit homework back from Mason Anderson,” she whispered, her eyes focused on his face, while his were focused on their hands together. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it before, I’m so sorry it took me so long to say it, Jay. But I can’t let you believe all those horrible things you said. Not when I love you more than anything in this world.”

He stayed silent for a couple of moments, her heart beating erratically inside her chest, fearing she had screwed up their friendship for good. In a way, it was worst to know he was out there and didn't want to speak to her because she dared to tell him about her love for him. “Please say something,” she begged him quietly. 

His eyes finally found hers, his hands breaking the link they formed. He rested his hands on her cheeks gently, and she dared say, lovingly. Her heart started beating excitedly, the fear slowly dissipating as his gaze got more intense. 

His lips brushed against hers, her eyes fluttering closed at the contact. He kissed her gently, a love delicate and fragile, just acknowledged between them both. His grip on her was firm, his thumb grazing delicately on her cheekbones. Her hands thread through his soft hair, still slightly humid from the sweat caused by the helmet. The air was charged with want, tentative kiss toeing the line between what it was and something more. 

She wished to stay like that forever. She prayed to  whatever was out there in the Universe, to allow her that happiness. To stay kissing her love tentatively in the dark for as long as she could, as long as he’d let her. 

Jason broke the kiss, his forehead resting on hers. His fingers found their way to the back of her head, cupping it softly. “I love you,” he whispered, his lips almost brushing with hers. She reached for his lips once again, like a magnet finding its match. “I love you so much,” he reassured.

They kissed once again, not intending to break apart any time soon. 

[moon-lixie]

"Were you this touch deprived?" The amusement could be easily missed in between the calm of your voice that threatened to melt under his fingertips.

"Yes," he answered immediately, no time for thinking needed, "when it comes to you I'm always touch deprived, I can never get enough of you."

word count: 1.970k

genre: fluff, Hyunjin x gn reader.

song: Wrong About Forever - Jeff Bernat

Every great waltz has its spins that make you feel like you're flying as the music pushes you further, Hyunjin wasn't a stranger to this concept, nor was he ignorant to the part in which the two people dancing move apart, stretching their arms as far apart as physically possible while their hands stay clasped together.

He, more than anybody, knew what it was to dance, to give yourself to music and get lost quicker than he could even realise.

What he wasn't familiar with were the matters of the heart, at that he had always been clumsy and hesitant, comparing love to a dance.

That's exactly why he could never understand when you walked away; his mind couldn't wrap itself around the concept of you leaving for good, in his heart there was always hope for a last dance.

Your face was carved into his memory, he could draw your every feature down on paper as easily as he could dance with his eyes closed.

Loving you wasn't a rational decision, it was an impulse, something he had grown to adore despite the difficulties it brought along.

The music filling the room suddenly faded, leaving behind the thrumming of his heart reverberating in his eardrums.

He had to admit there was always a bitter taste when that moment arrived, his body not being able to push any further and the music coming to an end.

If it was his decision then he would spend every second of his life doing the things that he loved, without the need of a break, without knowing what an ending meant.

But wishful thinking only ended up hurting his heart, bruising it carelessly as if he wasn't the type to hope on behalf of the entire world.

With a loud exhale he allowed himself to relax, shoulders loosening and eyes opening slowly, as if rushing through the process would be a mistake.

The first thing he saw was his reflection, the rolled sleeves of his shirt, hair clamped together on the front of his face because of his effort, lips parted and chasing an extra breath.

His surroundings were one of those places that gave comfort due to the long time it had been the background of his happiness, his passion for what he did had been sprawled all across the room.

Dragging his feet across the wooden floor, he scrambled to gather his things, barely remembering to grab his phone that had been discarded on the couch when he arrived if it hadn't been for the light buzzing sound coming from it.

The device loomed like a threat over his heart, having the ability to mend everything or put an end to one of those things he loved with an inimaginable fervor.

An unseen message had been sent in blue, waiting impatiently despite not being the first one sent between the both of you.

You had contacted him first; after two weeks of radio silence you had sent four words his way, typical of you.

'Can I call you?' It was unknown to him how long he had spent staring at the dark screen, forcing his eyes to trace the eleven characters that shaped your unorthodox way of asking for forgiveness.

Forgiveness for what? That he no longer knew, perhaps this time you had gotten scared of how ever so well you two worked together and that's why you had decided to walk away, or maybe there was a chance you had just gotten tired of him, again.

The game the both of you played didn't feel like the typical love he saw portrayed in movies but he couldn't find it in him to care, after all, dancing around you had never bothered him in the slightest.

With trembling fingers he had typed an answer, one word, three letters, a simple affirmation.

He tried to be quick, direct and concise; searching the deepest corners of his mind for the answer that could please you the most and immediately regretting the dry response.

But what had been done already wasn't something that should trouble his mind, even if it came to you, the person he craved to have by his side the most.

So, he had abandoned the mobile as soon as he stepped foot in the dance studio, leaving it screen against the couch in hopes that would soothe his anxious heart if only for long enough to enjoy his dancing.

Now that it buzzed with the call that could be the one he couldn't help but walk cautiously forward and take deep breaths before picking up.

"You're done with dance practice, right?" If he had ever wanted to get high on something, it was your voice, along with every single detail about you.

His lips curled into a satisfied smile. "Oh, so you do remember my number?"

A dry chuckle resonated on the line, forcing his mind to picture the scowl twisting the features of your beautiful face, portraying the guilt you never owned up to in front of him.

"Are you free?" Of course you would dodge his comment, but yet again, he couldn't bring himself to care, simply humming in affirmation.

"Okay, then see you in a bit."

Dumbfounded, an amused laugh found its way out of his lips. "Should I know what you mean by that?"

The harmless exasperation painted itself across your every word as you answered. "Do I really need to spell it out for you, Hwang?"

He was inexperienced when it came to love, very much so, but he was an expert when it came to you, always knowing what you meant, what you wanted, the things you needed.

Walking in the direction to your apartment he answered, "I'm afraid yes, I can't know what you mean if you don't explain it, now can I?"

You laughed annoyed, staying in silence for a moment; he couldn't have pushed things far enough yet, he could never, because you happened to love him just as much as he loved you.

"I miss you, okay? Happy now?"

"Very," he said, lips curling in a lovesick grin that shielded him even from the way you abruptly ended the call.

No matter how much you tried to walk away from him, suddenly cutting yourself from his life, you always came back, always stayed in the tiniest of details around him.

Perhaps that had been his mistake, to accept you even with that quirk of getting cold feet, because if only he had stopped it at once then it wouldn't have become a habit, a necessary routine.

But to love is to get tangled so awfully that you can't find your way out, only further falling into the mess of affection and longing.

The two of you just had your special way of working and tackling things, for instance, you hadn't talked to him for half a month and still your spare key remained under the pot of his favourite flower of yours.

Victory grin plastered on, he reached for the metal piece, opening the door of your apartment as if it were his very own home.

Alerted by his steps at the entrance you came to greet him, arms crossed over your chest as if to keep a final barrier between you and the man that owned your heart.

"I missed you too." Was the very first thing he said once he found your eyes staring right at his; it made you smile and he felt accomplished.

"Of course you did." His words melted you in an instant, making you move closer to him and take his hand in yours. "You always do."

And how could he not? How could he bring himself not to miss someone like you? Someone whose mere presence was intoxicating, seeping inside his muscles and veins, putting his being at ease.

Gently, he allowed the pads of his fingers to trace the outline of your nose, your lips, your chin, before leaning in towards you.

A firm hand against his chest stopped him on his track, causing a question to paint his face with confusion.

"You're all sweaty and you stink." You scrunched your nose adorably, as if actually bothered by his smell. "Go take a shower."

"But I want to kiss you first." A pout made his lips stand out, well aware that it sometimes worked wonders with convincing you.

"Nope, no kisses while you're all smelly." And just like that the both of you were back to normal, not caring to drag things for longer than they should with explanations or apologies that fell into deaf ears.

Against your petition he moved forward and embraced you in his arms, suddenly set on stone in making you squeal in complaint.

Moments later dragging you towards the bathroom despite the verbal refusal that didn't match with your eager steps trailing behind him.

Leaving his things forgotten on the entrance along with whatever fear he had harbored in his heart about this time being the time you would leave his side for good, he closed the bathroom door and kissed you.

Your lips felt unfairly soft against his, warm as a blanket that shielded people from every possible unfavorable outcome life could have prepared for them.

Sure hands moving to clasp on the hem of your shirt, slowly moving it upwards the further he got lost into the kiss.

Piece by piece he undressed the both of you until you were down to heart and soul, truths lying bare for eyes to pry and discover the biggest vulnerability in them.

Knowing the place as well enough as his own home, he turned around to set the water into the perfect temperature for the both of you, never cold.

Then he led you like you needed to be held, careful and attentive, eyes never leaving yours in a new attempt to learn every detail embedded in your pupils.

He turned you around, pressing your back against his chest and hugging you close until there was no space in between, his lips finding the way to your shoulder, pressing soft kisses meant to fix any remnants of doubt.

"Were you this touch deprived?" The amusement could be easily missed in between the calm of your voice that threatened to melt under his fingertips.

"Yes," he answered immediately, no time for thinking needed, "when it comes to you I'm always touch deprived, I can never get enough of you."

He couldn't be more honest even if he was asked to testify in court and make a pledge that allowed him to say nothing but the absolute truth, because he loved you with an intensity that sometimes could be mistaken as meek due to it's soft and innocent nature.

Hyunjin loved you the way someone loves something unobtainable, innocent and patiently, willing to wait entire lifetimes for stars to align and give him the pleasure of being in your presence.

Your hands moved to rest atop his where they were clasped together against your bare torso, thumbs escaping to rub soothing circles into your skin.

Trailing kisses up your neck he allowed himself to hope that every one of his touches reverberated with warmth all the way to your heart in the same fashion that yours did to him.

For you he would learn how to love properly, he would even understand to let go if that was what you truly wanted at some point in the future.

"I love you." The words felt like dripping honey as they slipped in between his lips for the very first time.

"I love you too," you answered, not even leaving time for him to panic at the sudden frankness with which his deepest sentiment had been revealed.

For a love like yours, he would always wait, always fight to make things better.

[forever-rogue]

With the razor crest destroyed, din no longer has that tiny closet(?) to sleep in. Imagine when grogu goes, din and you take a break and go to Naboo just to relax, process things and live in a villa retreat. He just cherishes you and loves you desperately like no other cos he can’t lose you too. You guys enjoy all the spaceand peace you have but can’t help missing the little green bean 🥺😭

Did someone say hurt & comfort hours? Because I believe that’s in order. Please enjoy. I am...crying. 🥺🥺

Din Djarin x Fem!Reader; warnings: S2 Finale Spoilers!

The Mandalorian Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Din?" his name was soft - reverent - as you stirred from slumber. Stretching, you reached across the plush bed to reach for your riduur, but instead of his warm, soft body, you found nothing. Emptiness. Sighing lightly, you realized the sheets were long cold. Again.

Pulling the soft, plush blankets back, you slipped out of the bed. You pulled on your discarded robe before striding over to the balcony where you could see his exhausted frame. He was leaning over the stone railing, head hung low as he clasped his hands together, almost as if he was praying to something - anything.

Maybe he was. Maybe he was praying to Maker to keep him safe. You safe. To figure out everything that had happened in the last several weeks. Everything he had ever known and come to know was crumbling apart right in front of him. Except you; his rock, his partner, his everything.

Din Djarin had never been a religious man, not unless, of course, it was something to do with his creed. But even that was out the window now.

He had so many questions, and yet so few answers. All he had now was you. And it was enough, more than enough.

You grounded him, enveloped him in a sense of peace and warmth in the chaos that seemed to rule his life. He was sure you were the only thing between sanity and him giving up and becoming an unholy mess at the moment.

"Din," you whispered his name to keep from startling him. He remained silent, unmoving as you came up behind him, wrapping your arms his waist before resting your head on his shoulder, "my light and stars. You weren't in bed."

"Couldn't sleep," he murmured as he put a hand onto top of yours, the cool metal of his wedding band almost burning your skin as he offered a gentle squeeze to your hand. You mumbled something inaudible before pressing a few kisses to the bare golden skin of his shoulder.

"I know, Din," you said softly, "but you need to try and rest. You haven't slept much in weeks."

"Yes," you felt his shoulders slump as he exhaled slowly, "its just...its..."

"I know," you admitted quietly, "I know its hard right now. So hard. But it will be okay, he will be okay. This is not...this is not the end. We will see him again, Din. He is our son."

Your Mandalorian remained silent for a few moments, but you could hear his breathing grow ragged, and his inhales and exhales become more sporadic. It was quiet, only the soft sounds of the waves of the lake slapping into sand and the singing of songbirds could be heard. Eventually, you heard a few sniffles before feeling a few tears spill onto your hand.

"Shhh," you soothed him, stroking your thumb over the back of his hand. You hummed softly under your breath as you held him, wishing you could take his pain and hurt away. You were grieving too, the sorrow and pain ran deep, but you knew it wasn't forever. And right now you needed to he strong for him, for him and yourself, for Grogu.

"I'm..." he stopped himself as you kissed the back of his neck, squeezing him as tightly as possibly to let him know just how loved he was.

"Its okay, my love," you promised softly, "let it go, let it all out. Its not good to hold it all in."

And so he did. He let himself weep, to cry with reckless abandon as he turned around in your arms and engulfed you in his own, swallowing you up as he clung onto as though his life depended on it. Burrowing his face in the juncture of your neck and shoulder, you reached up and carded a hand through his dark curls. Rocking him back and forth softly, you rubbed his back in calming motions, and offered him tender words of reassurance, much as you would have done for your little one.

In that moment you radiated nothing but love onto him, trying to convey how much he meant to you, how he was the brightest star in your galaxy, how everything would be okay.

Eventually, his heart wrenching sobs turned to quiet sniffles, and after a time you were once again met with nothing but the tranquil stillness of nature.

Din pulled back from you, his large hands finding your face as he studied your features. Your hands went to his wrists as you held onto them gently. He leaned forward and pressed a small kiss to your forehead, "thank you mesh'la. I love you more than you will ever know."

"I love you too, Brown Eyes," you offered him a small smile as he eyes crinkled softly with the ghost of a smile, "you know I love you with all of my heart. You are everything to me, Din."

"I don't know what I'd do without you," he admitted softly as you pressed a kiss to his lips. He brought his hands down to your waist as you gently wiped away the remnants of his tears, "I can't lose you. Not after..."

"You didn't lose him, Din," you insisted, "this was what we knew might happen all along. The bond the two of you share is immeasurable. You will always find your back to each other. I swear it - and I will be by your side always. We’re a family, and that means no matter how great the distance or time, in the end we will always be together.”

"It hurts," he admitted with a shaky breath as you offered a nod in understanding, "when will it stop hurting? I don't want to feel like this forever. I thought it would get better.”

“I wish I had an answer for you,” you wrapped him back up in your touch, “it’s going to hurt, and that’s okay, it’s normal. But it won’t always be like this; it will get better and easier, but the most important thing is that you remember that what you did, the choice he made, was the right thing. You didn’t do anything bad or wrong, even though it might feel like that now.”

“I know,” he agreed with the smallest of smiles as he kissed the side of your, “this was my mission from the start....and he chose to reach out to the Jedi.”

“He did,” you concluded, “but that he doesn’t mean he didn’t want to be with you, or that he didn’t love you, or stop thinking of you as his father. He needs to do this for himself too.”

“You must think me foolish for getting so attached.”

“Never,” you promised sharply, turning his face so he was looking at you, “experiencing emotion is not a shameful thing. You loved - love - him, Din, and he feels the same. There is nothing wrong with opening your heart and loving. Look at us; did you ever think we’d end up here?”

“No,” he sniffled quietly as you laughed at the memory of your first encounter with Din Djarin, “you tried to blast me to pieces and then knocked me out.”

“I thought you were an intruder and I was trying to protect myself,” you insisted with a kiss to his cheek, “my point is that its okay to love and sometimes it is scary and daunting, but its okay. Love is...its everything. And with it, we’ll get through anything. You taught him so much and he did the same to you.”

“He did...before him, before you, I didn’t think I would ever...” he stopped and caught your gaze, his soft,dark eyes looking at with such intensity, but still so much vulnerability, “we’ll get him back. One day. And no matter how long it is, it doesn’t anything. We’ll always be aliit.”

“Exactly,” you agreed, scratching gently at his scalp as he keened into your touch, “family is everything, you know this. Besides, your story... his story is far from over. There is still much left to do in this life.”

“I think I’d like a long break first,” for the first time in weeks, since he’d made his tearful goodbye to Grogu, you hear him laugh. A genuine, warm, full bodied laugh. The sound was enough to make your heart warm and settle down in your chest. It was a beautiful sound that you had desperately missed, and hearing it was again set everything right in the galaxy. You hummed in agreement as you let him hold you and rested your head against his chest, “I’d like to spend some time alone with my riduur. To rest. To relax - to breathe.”

“We have all the time in the galaxy, Din,” you promised, “we can stay here as long as we want.”

“I like that,” he agreed, kissing the crown of your head, “besides, who knows what hellish adventure awaits whenever we decide to rejoin the world?”

“It’s never a dull day for Din Djarin, or should I say my Mand’alor?” you teased as you started to reached for his hands to pull him back inside so he could actually rest.

“Oh no,” he groaned jokingly, “please, not you too.”

“I jest,” you insisted as he let you pulled him inside, “if you’re the ruler of anything, you’re my King, Din. I am yours, always and forever.”

“I like the sound of that,” he sighed contentedly, “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, Din.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[peachsayshi]

Chapter 7 - Games

Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Tags: Friends with Benefits, Teasing and a little bit of Fluff.

Summary: Trying to make sure the two of you stay out of the bedroom, you suggest playing a game of Twister and Gojo's mind starts to wander.

A/N: Sorry if there are mistakes! I don't have a beta and get tired rereading the chapters over and over again. This is a little short but we have some fluff and feels and we get a little insight on how Gojo has been feeling. I'm building up to something, I promise!

- - -

“Okay, left foot on green…”

With his right foot remaining on the red circle, Gojo spread his legs wide to place his left foot on the green circle towards the end of the mat. Things were easing up on his end when it came to work and he decided to take advantage of that by spending his free time with you tonight. What he didn’t expect was for the two of you to be in the middle of your living room playing board games instead of the usual physical activity that you both have grown accustomed to partaking in.

“Is this really how you want to spend our evening together?” he asked, taking the spinner from your hand as he proceeded to flick the arrow with his thumb and index finger.

You nodded your head, “We need to keep ourselves out of the bedroom. Otherwise, we will never leave...”

Gojo rotated his neck from side to side before replying, stretching to prepare himself for the awkward positions he was about to hold, “you’re making it sound like that’s a bad thing.”

“Listen, game night is going to make up for movie night which never happened because we wound up doing it on your couch instead...”

A smug grin spread across Gojo’s face, thinking of your failed plan to have a scary movie marathon with him. You were hoping to catch the sorcerer squirm but what you didn’t expect was him teasing you thirty minutes into the film that inevitably resulted in you being fucked senseless on his couch.

“You’re really going to put the blame on me for that? If you were paying attention you wouldn’t have succumbed to my advances so easily,” he retorted defensively.

“You had your hand up my skirt!”

“Now, I told you what that skirt does to me,” he jokingly snapped, pointing his finger at you sternly before shrugging his shoulders. “I couldn’t help myself…”

“Okay, well how about the night we were supposed to go out for dinner but missed our reservation because you decided to rip up my dress on the car ride over…”

“Let’s not get too dramatic, I merely broke the zipper and I did buy you another dress.”

“Okay, how about last night?”

Gojo parted his lips, pausing to think how the two of you wound up naked in the shower instead of going to the karaoke bar with Rina and her friends.

“Last night... wasn't my fault,” he pointed out, arching his brow at you as he recalled the way you teased him into submission.

“Oh, yeah. That’s right…” you shyly replied, biting your bottom lip as you scratched the back of your head. “So, uh, what’s my next move?”

“Quick to change the subject, I see?” Gojo answered with an easy smile, “Put your left hand on the blue circle…”

With your feet on the green and yellow circles, you leaned your body forward to put your left hand on the blue sphere. Meanwhile, Gojo dropped the spinner on the ground beside you, suppressing a laugh as he watched you struggle to spin the arrow and call out his next round.

“The point here is...” you grumbled as you tried to adjust yourself back into a comfortable position, “...the two of us are getting carried away. I just think this little break might do us some good.”

“I don’t think working up a sweat is a bad thing,” Gojo insisted.

“Well, we can burn calories after I kick your butt,” you added on, waiting for the arrow to land. “Right hand on green...”

“For someone trying to make sure we keep our distance, you sure picked an interesting game tonight,” Gojo teased, finding his new posture which brought his face close to yours.

“I know for a fact that you can’t cheat playing Twister,” you reminded, before glancing up at him from under your lashes and inching forward to peck him on the tip of his nose. “Besides, I never said I wanted space, I just thought I’d change things up for the evening.”

Gojo’s smiled into your lips as he gave you a soft kiss in return, “if you think you can distract me by being cute, you are absolutely wrong .”

“We both know how much of a sore loser you can be,” you answered back, “I just hope you’re ready to throw yourself a pity party by the end of this because I am definitely winning.”

“Mhmm, whatever you say. Right hand, blue…” he continued, trying to pay attention to the game and observing you reach your arm slightly underneath him to place your hand on the circle.

He couldn’t explain when things became this comfortable with you. If he had known that hooking up with you would bring you both closer together as friends, he wouldn’t have rejected your offer that easily.

You’ve both already broken one of your rules. However, Gojo didn’t mind forgoing the “drinking” rule to decide whether or not the two of you wanted to hook up. You both no longer needed the excuse anyway, after a while it became painfully clear that regardless of what the plans were, things always resulted in the two of you tangled up in someone’s bed sheets.

The sorcerer spent a majority of his spare time alone, unaware of how much it bothered him until you came along. He thought about the way you described yourself when you were in a relationship with your ex-boyfriend, and wondered if this felt similar in any way. Not that he considered you as anything other than a friend...but he was curious .

You both were different in many ways but often clashed when it came to your perspectives on love. You believed that there was a person out there for everbody, that there was nothing like falling in love with somebody who looked at you as if you were their whole world.

Granted, those were your opinions when you were in a happy and loving relationship but Gojo always disagreed with you because he was convinced that relationships were messy and only brought unnecessary drama to the table. That’s why he had his own personal rule that was standard practice when it came to his “love” life.

He never hooked up with somebody more than once.

Rumors about his womanising ways only stemmed from the fact that he did actually have plenty of lovers. However, he could barely recall their faces and didn’t even remember their names. Sometimes they recognized him on the street, and foolishly attempted to strike up a conversation with the handsome, rich stranger who paid for their company.

Gojo would politely brush them off every time. His stone cold reaction broke the hearts of those who were lucky enough to even be in his presence. He surely didn’t need to pay for the escorts or call girls but the act itself was easier and he had the money to spend anyway. These acquaintances never asked him any questions about his personal life, which benefited him greatly because it left very little room for anything other than small talk. Once both parties were satisfied, Gojo would leave every encounter without ever looking back. Sex was a routine way for him to blow off steam or merely take care of his natural urges. However, you didn’t know that you were the first person who he consistently kept as company in the bedroom.  

Up until this moment, he had been suppressing his desire for you. Now that he has you, the sorcerer could tell he was getting greedy. He respected your wishes when you asked him not to see anyone else on the side but surprised himself when he realised that he had no interest in seeking out the strangers that used to keep him company at night.

Even though you both insisted that this new partnership had no influence on friendship, Gojo was observant enough to see that it was not the case. Little things were starting to change here and there, and he was carefully making note of it every time it happened.

For example, whenever he was off fighting curses, you started habitually checking up on him to make sure he was okay. One night when he was unable to answer his phone, he received a string of unusual text messages from you to find out what happened. He remembered calling you right after, teasing you to ask if you were worried about him. You surprised him with your fear, how you easily believed that something was powerful enough to harm him despite him repeatedly telling you that nothing could touch him. When you responded to his question with a sincere yes, an unexpected sensation spread across his chest. If he wasn’t paying attention to how much you cared about him before, he was more aware of it now.

To ease your worries, he made it a point to shoot you a text whenever he could just to let you know that he was alright. Although, he did sometimes forget which resulted in you panicking on the phone with him. Only this time, Gojo never made fun of your concerns.

In turn, he realised how fiercely protective he became of you and it killed him whenever he had to deflect your questions when you asked about his life. There was so much you wanted to know and so much that he wished he could tell you. However, he had every intention of maintaining this invisible boundary. The last thing he wants is for you to get caught up in something that you couldn’t understand. If he were to invite you into his whole world, that would only lead to you facing dangerous threats that loved to lurk in the shadows.

He would never forgive himself if something were to happen to you.

A few more rounds passed, and the two of you were intertwined in the most precarious situation. You were in a reverse tabletop position, looking like a crab with two hands and feet on the blue and yellow circles. Meanwhile, Gojo was in a plank position above you, his palms pressed on the red and green circle by your side, with one foot next to yours on a blue circle and another on a yellow circle.

You were shaking underneath him, desperately trying to maintain your awkward stance while Gojo appeared bored holding his own position with ease.

“Okay, I didn’t take your strength or height into consideration…” you groaned with a pout.

A chuckle escaped his lips, “give up, yet?”

“No…” you groaned, eyeing the spinner by your side as you reached for it with your right hand. You lifted your head slightly, your neck straining as you tried to call out the next move. “Left foot, green…”

Gojo picked up his leg but as he stretched himself out he realised that he couldn’t bend himself properly in that particular way.

Your eyes widened, watching him shake as he tried to rotate his body without lifting himself completely up off the mat.

“Or maybe your height is actually a disadvantage?” you questioned, ignoring the way your arms burned from holding yourself up as your heart raced with anticipation.

“Shhh, I’m concentrating...”

Gojo kicked his leg out one way and then the other, the comical image of his tall body in motion only made you laugh at his reaction. He tried his best to ignore the sound of your voice but knew that he could barely maintain his balance as he tried to find the green circle. However, he miscalculated the gravity of his own weight when he shifted to the left side of his body, his elbow buckling underneath and causing him to collapse.

“Yes!” you exclaimed, raising your arms up in victory, paying no attention to his body pressed on top of yours.

His face was buried in the crook of your neck, breathing in deep to inhale the scent of your soap. He felt your hand pat the back of his head lightly, indicating that you wanted him to get off from on top of you. He slowly unraveled himself, irritated by his own misfortune as he rolled onto his back to lay down beside you. He tilted his head to look at you, noticing you turn so you both were making direct eye contact with each other.

Gojo always knew you were beautiful. Nothing in this world could convince him otherwise but he never paid attention to the details of how pretty you actually were. Little things about you that made the gears in his head turn, from the gorgeous mane that sprouted on the top of your head, to the way your eyes sparkled whenever you were excited or how the curve of your lips was your secret tell to let him know exactly what you were feeling when you couldn’t find the words to explain yourself.

Why me? He thought to himself, if you wanted to fuck around with somebody then why did you ask me?  

A kiss on his lips snapped him out of his drawn out thoughts, he felt the pads of your fingers along his cheek, slipping lightly underneath his blindfold to reveal just one of those blue eyes.

“Ready for another round?” you questioned.

Gojo softly smiled, thankful that you haven’t grown bored of him just yet. He lifted himself up, bringing one of his hands to cup your face as he pulled you in for another kiss. His tongue parted your lips and he allowed himself this one indulgence as he trailed his hand to the back of your neck.

Whatever thoughts that were running through his mind, he chose to ignore. There was no reason for him to consider such trivial things anyway. You were spoiling him with your body, playing out the fantasies that plagued his mind. He was aware that his greed fueled his lust for you and honestly did not know what he would do if you were to ask him to stop.

He deepened the kiss, allowing the frustrating thought to play out in passion instead. You shifted your position, your hand falling to his chest as you gripped onto the collar of his tee. Still holding onto the kiss, Gojo lifted himself upright so he was seated and as much as he would love to take advantage of this current situation, he chose to pull himself away instead.

“Best of three?”

“That sounds good to me!” you replied as you circled your arm around his neck, before returning to kiss him again.

Gojo gave in for only a second, before cheekily breaking away and tapping you gently on the forehead with his index finger.

“Oh no, you aren’t doing this to me again...” he said, his hands moving to your waistline as he gently pushed you away from him. “You wanted to have a game night and we are going to see it through.”

He leaned across from you to pick up the spinner, before settling back down and holding it in between the tiny space that separated you both.

“Winner goes first.”

- CHAPTER 8: HEAT - 

[mrsgiovanna]

Crimson (Dhampir! Don Giorno x Wife! Reader)

Those of you who have been here for a while would have suffered through my intermittent constant ramblings about scenarios in which Giorno's vampiric tendencies start to awaken. To the nonnies who requested this, here you go my loves.

TW: Blood mentions

Word Count: 2.4k

The sunshine felt glorious on your skin as you lounged next to the pool while Giorno completed a few more laps in the water before he was set to join you. Something felt amiss as you watched him aggressively swim in the huge body of water like a caged shark, but you attributed it to him needing to work off some of the stress of leading Passione. Finally satisfied with his efforts, he emerged from the pool, water clinging to his body and dripping from his hair, he would have looked like Neptune incarnate if it wasn’t for the angry red sunburn marring his otherwise flawless form.

“Gio, your skin looks so inflamed, let me help you,” he walked right past you, prompting you to follow him into the house. “My love, are you alright? Let me at least put something on you to…”

“Stop faffing, I’ll be fine, I think I just need some rest, you can go back to what you were doing,” snapped Giorno, in a harsher tone than he intended, in fact, he didn’t mean to be as short with you at all, and grimaced at his words, but he needed to get away from there as soon as he possibly could to not alarm you as this isn’t the first time he has experienced this, although, it is the first time it has happened in front of you.

You tried to hide your dejection at his behavior, you pulled on an oversized shirt, went inside and decided to work on some of your reports in the sunroom instead. Upstairs, in the bathroom of the master bedroom, stood Giorno in front of the golden-framed mirror. Before his ruby-tainted eyes, his burns had healed without him consciously summoning his stand… was it done subconsciously? His question remained unanswered, looking himself in the eyes, he realized that they still bore a crimson tinge to them. Dismissing it to simple chemical irritation, he took a cool shower and mulled over his exchange with you, growing ever more remorseful of how he dismissed your concern. Getting rid of the last bit remnants of water from his hair, he set out to find you to and apologize for his behavior.

Finding you bundled in the corner of the sunroom, musing over a few documents, Giorno just stood at the entrance admiring your beauty. You looked so cute wearing his shirt, the concentration furrowing your delicate brows and placing a pout on your lips.

“Tesoro? May I speak to you?” his voice was gentle, a far cry from the way he sounded before. You looked up from the documents you were working on and offered him a strained smile.

“Gio, I thought you wanted to rest for a bit…”

“I did bella, but that’s not important right now… I’m sorry… for the way I acted before, you were just showing your concern and I behaved like an idiot. Please forgive me…” walking towards you, he seated himself next to you.

“Well, you were very mean to me, but I’ll forgive you just this once… only because you asked so nicely, next time it won’t be so easy for you Don Giovanna,” you said with a smirk, breaking into a small giggle when he grimaced at the epithet.

“Come here bella- nice shirt by the way, it looks very familiar…”

“Oh, it’s just something I found lying around… you know what they say, finders’ keepers,” with a gentle smile at your remark, he peppered your face with soft kisses and made sure you got comfortable on his lap, so he could hold you while you worked, his mind though, was preoccupied with the events that occurred of late.

In the next few days both you and Giorno were busy with your respective tasks, and as much as you wanted to dismiss his distant demeanor on how busy you both were, you knew that he was uncharacteristically withdrawn from you. Giving him the space he needed, you met his aloofness with your usual calm kindness. Needing to discuss a few work-related issues with Giorno, you decided to go see him rather than wait for him to come home.

“(y/n)- bella, this is a nice surprise. To what do I owe this pleasure?” he still had that charming velvety quality to his voice that made you feel, for a split second, like things were back to normal, but the strained way in which he kissed your cheek told you otherwise. He considered you for a moment, staring at you with his slightly reddened eyes.

“Are you wearing a new perfume?” inhaling the air around you sharply, he posed his question to you.

“No my love, it’s the same scent you like, the one I wear most often”

“Oh? You just smell so sweet, it’s wonderful,” Giorno’s words are muffled as he buries his nose into your neck and places a small kiss there, rigidly pulling away almost instantly, the red sheen becoming more pronounced in his eyes. Guarded, he stepped away from you and with a tense smile he completed what you needed from him.

“I’ll see you at home then,”

“Of course tesoro…” distracted, Giorno kissed your forehead and you left, determined to get to the bottom of what was plaguing him. You knew that his origins were obscure. He didn’t have much of a relationship with his mother and you both learned the truth about his father after meeting with Dr. Kujo to resolve a few matters which required Giorno’s assistance. Recalling the conversation, you remembered the sordid business with Dio and the stone mask. Your blood ran cold when you considered the idea that Giorno could be going through a transition of sorts… it wasn’t a pleasant thought to entertain, however, you couldn’t think of another reason for his odd behavior and changes in his features.

You knew it was a risky idea… you knew that if he overheard your conversations he’d be furious… but you had to seek help from the one man who had encountered the type of being that Giorno shared his DNA with. Hating having to hide this from the man you had previously shared every mundane detail of your day with, you pressed on, and within the week that had passed you had learned all there was to know about his condition without actually having an expert examine him. You had unfortunately hit a wall, all the while, despite your best efforts, the rift between you and Giorno had continued to widen.

You sat up in bed engaging in a long distance call with a tired-sounding Jotaro, at that ungodly hour-alone- confident that you would be falling asleep beside a cold pillow, just as you had for the past 3 nights. “Is there anything that can be done from where I am? Dr. Kujo, please… I know you may be apprehensive given the history, I can assure you that, if by some stroke of misfortune, anything were to go awry I have enough faith in my abilities to contain him, I…”

“It’s not that, I trust that he isn’t a threat, despite what he’s experiencing. The thing is, we have already shared every bit of information we have in our possession with you. Anything else will require you to come here, the foundation has experts and the technology available to at least assess Giorno to determine a way forward from there,”

“I’ll try to get…”

“Who are you talking to?” the temperature in the room suddenly dropped when you heard the cold manner in which your husband addressed you.

“Oh! Giorno… I can explain… Dr. Kujo, please forgive my rudeness, but may we continue this later, at a suitable time for you?”

“Of course,”

“Thank you, I’ll be in touch…” moving from one impossibly difficult conversation to another, you turned your attention to Giorno who was seething at the doorway across from you.

“Care to explain?” the expression on your husband’s face was so cold it forced you to silently avert your gaze to gather your composure.

“(y/n), I’m waiting…” his footsteps resounded with a sharp clatter as he walked into the room.

“Gio… I’m worried about you. You think I haven’t noticed but I can see that you’ve changed. I see you agonizing over this… transition… you’re going through. Please don’t shut me out,” weeks of unexpressed feelings pooled in the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill out.

“(y/n) … this is something I have to do on my own, I… I don’t want to hurt you,” it was clear that Giorno did not want to have this conversation with you from his shaky disposition and the manner in which he spoke.

“What you’re doing right now is more hurtful than anything else! Watching you struggle like this, being so close to you, yet so far removed from each other,” emotions swirling uncontrolled, you choked out the words despite wanting to protect Giorno’s feelings.

“You don’t understand cara”

“Then make me understand, damn it Giorno!”

“Ahh! you think I don’t know what’s happening to me? I’ve been doing my own research as well. I know what my father was… I knowwhat I’m turning into! We both know… and you… the scent of you drives me insane. Rather than hurting you, I chose to stay away from you!” For a moment after his outburst, all you heard was silence save for the sound of Giorno’s breathing and your own heart pounding in your ears.

“You’re not him Gio, you never will be like him. and if your bloodlust is doing this to you, then please just let me help you… I’m your wife, if I can’t do this for you, who will?!”

“No! I won’t allow it. Will I even be human if I did? No… I can’t, and if I hurt you I’ll never forgive myself,”

“Gio, caro, I trust you entirely, I know you wouldn’t go too far, and if by some stroke of bad luck, you do, you can always use your stand ability to replace what was lost. I can’t stand seeing you like this… I love you so much… so please, if you need to… then do it, I’ll be okay,”

You saw the doubt flicker in his glossy eyes as he considered your argument. Inching closer towards him, you extend your hand to cup his cheek, cherishing the feeling of his faintly stubbled skin against your soft hand. He puts his hand over yours, leaning into your touch, he places a soft kiss into your palm. After craving your touch for so long, this felt heavenly to him, and he wasn’t sure if he would be able to let you go again after this. You picked up on his yearning, as it matched your own, and gently coaxed his face towards yours, kissing him gently at first, and then surrendering to your urges as Giorno hungrily deepened the kiss, burying his fingers into your hair. When he broke away, his gaze was intense, but marred by doubt. He flicked your hair over your shoulder and gingerly traced the vein on your neck, his thumb gently caressing your silken skin.

Sensing his trepidation, you try to allay his fears, “It’s alright my love, I’m ready… I’ll be okay.” Your hands wrap around his back while his lips find your neck, small kisses were placed in the prime spot, turning into little licks and laps, until finally you felt the sharp sting of Giorno’s teeth sinking into the supple flesh with a low hum from him. After the initial pain, the sensation was unlike anything you have ever experienced before, a newfound intimacy that came from knowing you were helping him through something so intense.

After a few moments, his hunger was satiated- at last, the feral intensity disappearing from his eyes, his teeth retracting to the same level as the others, Giorno cradled you in his arms.

“Tesoro, are you alright?” his voice was tender, and it seemed that he had finally returned to his old self.

“I’m alright my love,” you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Giorno was overcome by a new wave of affection for you, watching you carefully, he lifted you up, despite your protests and carried you to bed.

“This will only hurt for second amore, but you will feel much better afterwards,” he explained as a familiar golden glow enveloped both you and him, slightly smarting the area that it healed until all evidence of the encounter had vanished. Clear eyes peered curiously into your own and were met with a relieved gaze- finally the crimson haze had cleared.

“How are you feeling my love? You look… different… calmer?” pushing yourself up on one arm, you sat up to face Giorno.

“I do feel calm, I feel like a spell has been lifted and I’m finally myself again…” anguish contorted the young don’s features as he thought back on the events that built up to that moment. “I’m so sorry, tesoro… I’ve treated you horribly over the past few weeks, there are no excuses, regardless of what was happening, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you… please forgive me,” unable to hold your gaze he just looked away dejectedly.

“Giorno… look at me…” you extended your arms towards him, gripping the sides of his face, gently turning him towards you. “We’re a team, we’ve fought against unimaginable things together, built an entire empire together, even changed the course of fate together… my point is that regardless of what you’re going through, it will never best us if handle it together,” offering you a tired smile, he grasped your hands in his and kissed them gently.

“You always know what to say… You’re pretty amazing, you know that?”

“Well, of course I’m amazing! Doesn’t hurt to hear it every once in a while though…” your laughter lightened the mood and tugged at the corners of Giorno’s full lips. Wordlessly, he climbed onto his side of the bed and motioned for you to take your place in his arms. It was the embrace that you both craved after the painful period of time you were estranged from each other. Hair still adorned with his triad of curls and still in his suit, Giorno fell asleep almost instantly after wrapping his arms around you and tucking your head under his chin.

Feeling as safe as you did, your exhaustion also weighed down your eyelids. You knew that the road would be a long one, but for now, the only thing that mattered was the fact that he was safe and happy, and you were in his embrace where you belonged. Relishing the warmth he radiated, you allowed yourself to drift into a peaceful slumber.

[limitlessgojo]

Blood Bound: Blackened Bond (Ch 14)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous SFW Chapter: Home Sweet Home

Previous Chapter NSFW!: The More You Know

Next Chapter: Shadows Fall

Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj @rizzo-nero @whoreuc @fkngkumiko @isl3t @gojoussunglasses @onepotatostand-blog @s-t-f-u-b-i-t-c-h @sunaswife @lordguameow @track5enthusiast

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, and specify if you're okay with NSFW posts or not, please mention it in the comments below ty ❤

Extra Notes: This is my favorite chapter by far in this book, I've been wanting to drop this for weeks! I hope you enjoy reading. Part 2 of the story starts from here on until the end. Feel free to scream in the comments as usual XD

Chapter 14: Big White Lies

As the days passed by, the seasons changed. You started class in Spring. Summer has long passed and it is now the beginning of Winter. Noritoshi, as usual, was really busy so you didn’t see him as often. But you let it go.

You wanted to do something nice for him, so you had the idea to surprise Noritoshi. Having some cupcakes in a small bag and a fresh cup of coffee in your other hand, you were outside his door, hiding your presence and cursed energy to mask your identity.

As you raised your hand to knock on his door, you heard a second male voice.

"I'm glad to hear that you've been getting along with your soulmate son." His father's voice was heard over a speaker. Oh he was on call with his dad!

Yikes, not the best time to interrupt. It is impolite to listen into the conversation, but you were too excited to surprise him that you decided to wait for the call to end.

"Is Y/N really deeply in love with you? Make sure to not let her go. That will surely help our clan's reputation rise above with her skills being integrated into ours. She can definitely bear strong heirs for our clan. For centuries it was the Zenins that harnessed various types of jujutsu shi with strong techniques. It's time we continuously expanded ours as well. Starting with her." The Kamo clan head sternly ordered his son.

'Huh?'

"Yes of course father. Don't worry. She has already confessed her love to me so there's nothing to worry about. I'll do my best to make this clan proud and powerful. I definitely won’t let you down." Noritoshi replied.

The smile on your face slowly faded as your face turned to stone. Ah. Was that it?

Is that what you amounted to only? A tool for their use. A stepping stone for the Kamo clan to get stronger. You started to feel nauseous. Is this the so-called secret he didn’t want to tell you about…

You stood quietly as you continued eavesdropping.

"Excellent. Heh, looks like you can actually be a womaniser if you wanted to. Women are way too easy. As I told you before, give her sweet touches, use pet names, give her lots of encouragement and make promises here and there and they'll be by your side before you know it." His father snorted.

"Yes, I've taken your advice into consideration and did as you said." Noritoshi spoke firmly. Your heart was breaking with every word spoken.

"If you don't like her or how she looks, you can have several concubines and wives anyways. Have your pick. Remember Homura chan? Now she's a stunner. Didn’t you also say you found her cute?"

‘What on earth is this? Who is Homura? Why?’ Your hands start shaking badly, pulse thundering in your ears.

You felt light headed from the brutish words the Kamo clan head was saying, and silently retreated, not wanting to hear Noritoshi's response to his father. Keeping your presence and cursed energy hidden and as minuscule as possible while you walked back to your dorm room.

Because you had left you didn't hear the remainder of the conversation.

"Father, I respect that the older clan heads had several wives and concubines. And I’ve told you time and time again that I’m not interested in Homura san. But I've decided to be loyal to my one true soulmate. I think I am falling in love with her as well, and can't bear to see her hurt. I won't be taking in any concubines." Noritoshi politely replied.

It was the first time he had spoken about his true feelings out loud and he felt vulnerable. He braced himself for any harsh words from his father but none came.

His father only raised an eyebrow. "Suit yourself. The fact is, even if she doesn't give birth to an heir with the inherited Blood Manipulation, she is more than enough of an additional asset to our clan. And it ties us together with the Abe/Tsuchimikado clan as you know."

Clan politics. Noritoshi is getting more and more sick of it every day, but he just silently nodded. As long as he has you and his mother by his side, nothing else matters. "Yes I understand father."

Noritoshi hated talking about his family with you, because of this exact reason. He didn’t want you to be disgusted by this side of their family and get pulled into their family problems. The worst thing would be for you to have a terrible first impression of the Kamo clan.

He understood that you already had a lot on your plate as your missions grew harder and harder. You were often assigned to grade 1 missions alone already. The worst case was for you to get roped into doing messy tasks to please the clan elders.

◇◇◇

You paced around your room, staring at the cupcakes and coffee on your desk. They were getting cold.

Cold. That's how you felt inside and out. You had to confront him. Or else your relationship will just drag you down. You definitely didn't want him to have any concubines. Didn’t want to have a partner who didn’t love you after all.

You were so lost in your emotions that you didn’t realize you were jumping to several conclusions on your own without considering Noritoshi's feelings for you properly.

'But it was starting to make sense' Your mind was screaming at yourself. 'He never explicitly confessed his feelings. He does indeed give me mixed signals from time to time. He shuts me out of private matters to him. He could be using me.’

The one question that was breaking you apart now is: "Was everything a lie? How much of his actions were sincere? He could lie about anything. To get power, that's something the big 3 clans are capable of doing. Satoru told me of some of the horrors already…"

The doubt and feelings of betrayal piled up, until you came to one conclusion: You’ve had enough.

◇◇◇

The next day, you suppressed all your emotions and distracted yourself. You tried your best to act normal around Noritoshi, smiling brightly at him.

It wasn't too effective. Everytime he called you his angel, instead of the delight you usually feel, you felt hurt thinking he was forcing himself to do this.

This can't go on forever. And eventually Noritoshi could start to feel the pain in your heart on his end as well. He hurried to you one afternoon after class, dragging you out to the plum tree away from the buildings.

You looked up at Noritoshi. As handsome as ever. Gentle and concerned (lies), with a strong hand reaching to cup your face (lies lies), speaking so carefully, "My angel, how are you? Why are you troubled? Have I done something to offend you?" (Lies, it was all lies).

He must be lying. Must have been since day 1. The way your brain just jumped to the most terrible scenarios in which he never liked you. There's no other reason. Your breathing quickened.

Both of you were still in the first stage of the soulmate bonding; therefore, you couldn’t share all emotions yet. Just urgent and strong random flashes of it, especially negative emotions. This is why both of you weren’t able to feel the love the other has through the bond yet.

You stopped smiling.

"I overheard your conversation with your father. I'm sorry for eavesdropping, but I had a present for you that I wanted to give you yesterday, so I waited outside your room. But that doesn't really matter anymore." You said, cooly shrugging off the hand on your face.

He stiffened, whole body tensing. 'No it was going so well with you, this can't be happening.' He thought to himself.

"Y/n I can explain-"

"Did you even feel anything for me? Besides our red string of Fate appearing?"

The marks on your wrists flowed in warning, searing hot pain flashed across both of you. But you ignored it. The devil on your shoulder pushing you to break things with him.

"Tell me the words you and your father spoke about yesterday were a lie." You begged him.

He couldn't say it was, because the conversation yesterday was only filled with truths. He was so confused, so he stayed silent.

You laughed at him without any real meaning or humor. The light had gone out of your eyes. Noritoshi felt himself shiver at the sound of it.

"So it was all true. Did you like me for me? Or because I'm your so-called soulmate whom you forced yourself to “love”- pshhh not even love, probably to tolerate, for the sake of power?"

Noritoshi’s head felt unfocused and his palms were sweating.

“I’m just a fucking game to you huh Kamo?!” You were freely crying now. He winced at the use of his family name.

Noritoshi found that he couldn’t breathe properly, much less reply to you. He had never seen you like this. What’s worse is your intense fear, sorrow, and disgust towards him was radiating so strongly through your bond.

“No you’re not.” He could hardly get the words out with how hard he’s breathing. It actually felt like the red strings were tying themselves around his neck. You scoffed at him unbelievingly.

He trembled as he lifted both hands to cup your face, but you stepped out of his reach. His hands dropped.

"You liar. I don't want this. If you just want to use me for my body, and to use me for your gain and for your family's benefit only to toss me aside for other women, then I don't want it." You spoke hoarsely. Your entire body was stiff, hands cold and voice quivering.

Your bond was hanging by a thread. The emotions of pain and betrayal bleeding over and muddling the delicate bond.

"I'm out. Go find some other bitch to breed for your sake of your precious heirs. I don't care if we are a fated pair. If you don't wanna put even an ounce of trust and honesty into our relationship then just fuck off." You turned around and walked away.

"Wait, no I-" Noritoshi gasped out as he snapped out of his shock, but you didn't turn back. You walked faster trying to ignore the voice you loved hearing so much.

Even if it hurts to break apart from him now, it is better than to have your heart broken again and again by staying with him.

"Y/n I do care about you. I do think of you everyday. You’re not a game to me. Didn't you hear what I said yesterday?" He called out desperately, stepping forward.

You ignored him, digging your nails into the palms of your hands at the pain from your soulbond falling apart. 'I won't be fooled any longer'.

Your bond was screaming at you to turn around and believe him. To believe that everything you've felt with him these past few weeks were real. That he truly loved you.

"Listen to me!" Noritoshi cried out.

You halted in your tracks. "I'm nothing to you. If you want to have other women as your concubines, go ahead. I know you can pick up as many women as you want with your standing. You clearly don’t need me. So I don't need you." Your last 4 words are a harsh slap to his face.

Snap. And your bond was left barely hanging with the smallest red thread that stubbornly refused to let go. But the damage was done. He couldn't feel your emotions anymore as his head filled with white noise.

Panic overcame Noritoshi like never before. This wasn’t like his normal self. He didn’t let himself think about anything else, but to run and pull you back in his arms.

Until he was physically stopped by an invisible barrier. Your solid air barrier that blocks all sound and forms of matter on the other side, keeping him away from you.

“No, no, no, no. Y/n Come back! I’m sorry! Speak to me!” He cried, furiously pounding at the invisible wall between the both of you. But you couldn’t hear him, much less know how he is feeling. After all, you’ve ended it with him already.

After you left, he remained rooted to his spot. His forehead leaning against the barrier, tears streaming down his face, as he stared at the place where he saw your figure disappear. It wasn't long ago that he had just fallen in love with you.

Your warmth, your laughter, the touches you give to him. Now everything felt so cold. "But I need you." He whispered out, sounding so broken.

The last few wilted leaves of the plum tree fell, leaving it bare to the cold winter. He remembered the words in the soulmate records of the Gojo Clan. “A soulbond can be rejected.”

Maybe he should have told you everything from the beginning and not hold back any secrets. He was terrified that your opinion of him would change, if you found out about his background and his mother. So he wanted to slowly ease you into the Kamo clan.

This was the worst.

As the sky grew dark, he went back into his room and for the first time, didn't bother studying. Just went straight to sleep.

What he wouldn't give to feel anything from your end. Even if it was anger or hatred, it would be better than this empty feeling.

Author's Notes: This chapter was the first chapter I've written before all others and is how Blood Bound came to be. You could say this is the core of the story, since it's the origin. Just had an angsty afternoon one day and chose violence🥰🤧

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

[spooky-z]

SOULMATE AU:: First Swap

Look who's back... That's right! Soulmate AU.

I intend to make a shortfic with five chapters, after finishing posting Bombshell (which already has the first of three chapters posted HERE)

Here they are 7 and their behavior may seem strange, but... Damian. So, yeah.

Soulmate AU:: 1 and 2.

1.4K

Maribat by @ozmav

Marinette was... irritated, so to speak, with Mlle. Bustier.

The woman had once again invalidated her feelings for Chloe. Chloe, who was being particularly mean to her, because she was jealous that Marinette had a soulmate, but she didn't.

Chloe had - as always - thrown a tantrum because Marinette had achieved a better grade than she in the test and didn’t shut up for a second until that moment.

Marinette's head was throbbing with the start of a monstrous headache.

“But Mlle. Bustier!” The blonde whined. "I'm sure Dupain-Cheng cheated!" The high-pitched voice resonated through the windowpanes and hurt the students' eardrums.

"Chloe, please." Mlle. Bustier asked, frowning, probably as irritated as the rest of the students.

Chloe snorted indignantly. "Then I will tell my-"

That was when Marinette felt the comforting presence at her side. Catching the movement with a quick look before she turned around completely so she could look at him better.

The skin kissed by the sun, black hair and short. He dressed like the shinobis she saw in the action movies that papa let her watch when mama wasn't around. Sitting in the chair that was previously available, there was an air of danger around him.

But what caught her attention most were his eyes. His eyes that matched hers perfectly, and he was beautiful.

"Thank you." He replied, his cheeks turning a shy pink.

Marinette squeaked, her hands rising automatically to cover her mouth, drawing the attention of Nino and Kim sitting across from her.

"Are you okay, MDC?" Kim asked.

She shook her head frantically. "If you say..." Nino replied suspiciously.

Marinette took her hands from her mouth to smile at them and so the two turned their attention to the interrupted conversation.

She looked at him again, feeling overwhelmed by the flood of information that hit her.

The world around them changing rapidly.

"Wow." Marinette sighs.

She looked at the breathtaking landscape.

The place they were in looked like a big Asian-style mansion on top of a mountain. She could see the clouds from the floor she was on and how the sun reflected against the rocks around the building.

It was breathtaking.

"I agree with you." He says, his eyes glued to her.

A commotion attracts Marinette's attention.

Underneath where they were, she could see other people - Ghuls - in the same type of black clothes as he was, training with katanas and their face covered.

The League of Assassins. Heir. Batman. Damian.

"Oh." She turns to look at him again. An unknown feeling burning in her chest and a lump stuck in her throat.

Her eyes start to burn, a sob escaping without her permission. "I-" Tears clouded her vision, wanting to-

He- Damian, spread his arms, an intelligible expression on his face and a guilty glint in his eyes.

She didn't hesitate for a second before jumping into his arms.

Finally. Finally, she was able to touch, see, smell him, melt against the heat of his body, unite with him.

"I'm so happy." She sniffs against his neck. “I've been so worried about you! Always hurting yourself and- the pains I felt coming from you...!”

Damian tightens his arms around her.

"I'm fine, ya rouhi (my soul)." He responds smoothly.

Marinette violently denies it. "No, you're not!"

“I am- now I am. You don't have to worry anymore.” Damian whispers against her shoulder.

She smiles at the choice of words, her heart warming more and more. It was like the sky, like she was floating with clouds. She never wanted it to end.

“Mlle. Bustier, Maritrash is being scary!” Chloe's voice frightens Marinette and she moves away from Damian back to the classroom, where everyone is looking at her strangely.

Chloe wags her finger at her, tapping her foot on the floor.

"She's talking strange and smiling like a lunatic!"

Beside Marinette, Damian snorts angrily. "She's just annoying."

"I know. Most of the time I just ignore her, you know? Like a persistent fly.” The girl responds, an acid touch in the words.

Chloe gasps, knowing that Marinette was talking about her.

“Mlle. Bustier!” She whimpers.

The teacher sighs tiredly with Chloe's tantrums and the way Marinette was dealing with it. She, better than anyone, knew that it was not right to disrupt others because she was frustrated.

"Marinette, apologize to Chloe." Bustier asks. "You were rude with your words."

The girl looks at the teacher in disbelief and Chloe smiles convinced.

"But I didn't do anything!" She complains. "Chloe who's being stupid again!"

Everyone in the classroom chokes on Marinette's words. Chloe starts to cry and Bustier gets up from her seat scandalized.

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng!" She slaps her hand on the table. "Apologize right now or I will be forced to call your parents at school!" Threatened.

Most of Marinette's classmates were unable to notice the change in the girl's appearance or how her posture had hardened. Not even the change in the girl's eye color was noticed.

Only Kim, Nino - who were sitting closest to her -, Sabrina who knew Marinette and Mlle. Bustier, who, despite everything, was very observant.

'Marinette' leaned back against the back of the seat, her lips pressed in a thin line, her eyes - both green, but with different hues - cold as ice and her hair had darkened to a glossy black.

"I hope that this attitude will be taken not only towards me, but with the annoying girl as well." She says.

"Annoying girl?" Chloe mutters incredulously.

"Why would I do that?" Mlle. Bustier replies. "The only person I see being rude is you."

Marinette throws her head back and laughs sarcastically before looking back at the teacher. The face as hard as stone.

"That was a good joke, mademoiselle." She stands up, arms crossed behind her. "That-" She stops as if she's hearing something. “Chloe, right. She has been distracting everyone since you started class. Making meaningless complaints or just whining and so far, I haven't seen you scold her for it.”

Mlle. Bustier swallows.

"B-But-"

“No ‘buts’!” Marinette cuts the woman. "It gets special treatment just for being the daughter of politician, is it?"

Chloe tosses her hair over her shoulders, arms crossed. “My father is the new mayor of Paris. Mayor! He rules everything, so do I!”

Marinette makes an 'hm' sound without opening her mouth, looking critically from Chloe to Bustier - who had a greenish tinge to her face -.

"It will be something to tell the parents of Dupont students, then." There is a dangerous edge to the girl's tone. "Imagine the scandal that will be when the word comes out that the mayor of Paris and his daughter, has power over the way the school is run"

Marinette smiled and went down the stairs towards Chloe.

Mlle. Bustier sighs at the sweet girl's behavior. Understanding coming to her.

"You are not Marinette." She says.

The girl smiles, an evil look in her eyes.

"Bingo!" She claps excitedly. “I thought you were more stupid. I was sincerely concerned about the school education that habibit is receiving.”

The students made protest sounds with the girl's harsh words, but the look she sent them made everyone freeze in their seats quickly shutting up.

"Who are you-" Chloe fumbles, shocked by the color of Marinette's eyes.

"I think you'd better be quiet, Bourgeois." Non-Marinette says. "Otherwise, you will discover one of the many ways I know how to cut a person's tongue." She makes mimics a scissor with her fingers, without taking her eyes off Chloe.

The blonde's eyes widen in fright.

“Or who knows, one day you may wake up bald... There are many options on the table. I can even let you choose.” Non-Marinette taps her finger against her chin thoughtfully.

Chloe walks away. Hands quickly going to the head, trying to protect the hair away from Marinette.

"I-I don't feel well." Mumbles, picking up the yellow bag from the table. "I think I'm going to go home... Daddy will call dismissing me... Bye!" She doesn't wait for Mlle Bustier's response before running out of the classroom.

Non-Mari smiled beatifically, enjoying the whole scene of the girl's escape and staying until Chloe was out of sight. Then the expression darkened when her attention turned to Bustier.

"You and I are going to have a very serious conversation now."

And Mlle. Bustier swallows, feeling threatened by the girl's words.

[tag list closed]

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[gusu-emilu]

Ship: Wei Wuxian / Wen Ning

Summary: Wei Wuxian gives Wen Ning a heartbeat, but not in the way either of them expected.

Rated T, No Warnings Apply

POV Wen Ning, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, references to WWX's poor health, First Kiss, Pining, Cuddling, Presumably Unrequited Love, or more accurately: whatever these two have going on, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, and the inherent homoeroticism of necromancy

Ch. 1/2, 6k, read on AO3 above or on Tumblr below

Wen Ning has always known that Wei Wuxian is not someone to hesitate.

The moment Wen Ning enters the Demon Subdue Palace after packing up the last sack of turnips, Wei Wuxian grabs his wrist.

“Come look!” He tugs Wen Ning deeper into the cave, slender fingers wrapped around Wen Ning’s wrist. He grins at Wen Ning over his shoulder. “I’ve made some more demonic devices, probably my best batch yet. I’d like to see the impersonators down in the town copy these!”

Wen Ning steadies his balance, not fully recovered from Wei Wuxian suddenly whisking him away.

Wei Wuxian has never hesitated to touch him. Wen Ning still isn’t quite used to it, having grown up in a family of doctors whose every touch felt calculated, and among clansmen more focused on war and strength than friendship. Clansmen who rarely respected him, never mind showed him affection.

Even now, he exists in a constant state of volatility due to his outbursts of resentful energy. Every family member in the Burial Mounds is careful around him, even A-Yuan at times.

But not Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian is entirely different. Has always been different.

The first time they spoke, Wei Wuxian had already been comfortable with casual touch. Wei Wuxian hadn’t hesitated to lay hands on him to adjust his archery posture—steady hands he can still imagine on his upper arm and around the side of his ribs, friendly pressure like a heavy quilt, as Wei Wuxian comforted and praised him.

Then the war began, and Wei Wuxian choked him in Lotus Pier—furious, merciless hands like paws of a frightened animal. Wei Wuxian hadn’t hesitated then, either. He would’ve fully choked Wen Ning had he not held back enough to let him speak.

Then the war ended. Now Wei Wuxian uses him as an armrest, fixes his hair, arranges talismans on him, even once tried to pick him up and carry him as a joke. (He'd been a bit too weak to manage it for long. Wen Ning hadn’t thought that part was funny.) Now he drags Wen Ning around by the hand, all without hesitation.

Had Wei Wuxian hesitated before raising him from the dead?

Wen Ning isn’t sure which answer would comfort him.

“Take a look at this one,” Wei Wuxian says as he places a stone tablet in Wen Ning’s hand. A faint black cloud winds around the tablet, the smoke’s path tracing the red fulu writings carved into its surface. “Still pretty weak, but I’m getting closer to replicating yin iron with just regular stone.”

Wen Ning glances back and forth between the tablet and Wei Wuxian’s tired but enthusiastic smile. His eyes are bright with joy, but dark circles frame them. He hasn’t eaten much in the past few days, instead focusing relentlessly on his experiments, despite needing to save energy to heal the stab wound from Jiang Wanyin.

But Wen Ning still hasn’t figured out how to make him rest. Maybe admiring the new batch of demonic devices will help calm his inventive frenzy.

He nods, giving a small smile at Wei Wuxian. “That’s good.”

“Weak yin iron will be much easier to use. Better for small applications here and there, less dangerous…” Wei Wuxian squats by the scattered piles of demonic cultivation tools and notes, rummaging through to find another invention, the tablet already forgotten.

The black cloud around the tablet continues to swirl, small wisps seeping into Wen Ning’s skin. The tablet feels more like a block of dust than like stone, but despite his dulled senses, he notices…something else. A second sensation.

A throb.

“Wei-gongzi?”

“Yeah?” Wei Wuxian says, squinting at a page of especially messy notes.

“Does…does this have a pulse?” The stone continues to throb weakly, more of a resonance than a physical sensation, its aura cold like resentful energy.

Wei Wuxian looks up from the papers, one eyebrow raised. “It’s still doing that?” He stands and takes the tablet, examines it. “Hm. This might be good! I’ll have to find out what flow pattern of resentful energy caused this.”

Wen Ning closes his hand. Strangely, he wishes for the tablet to still be pulsing against his palm. It had felt kind of pleasant, if disturbing. “Resentful energy can create a heartbeat?”

“Well, it’s not exactly a heartbeat. But yes, if channeled the right way.”

“…Does that mean I have one?” Behind his back to prevent Wei Wuxian from noticing, he presses three fingers to the inside of his wrist, where years ago Jiejie had taught him how to read the flow of his blood. A black vein of resentful energy now covers those lifeless pulse points. “I’ve never felt it.”

Wei Wuxian turns the tablet between his hands thoughtfully. “No…you don’t have a heartbeat.” Then he grins, one of those sly grins that crosses his handsome face slowly, as if an idea has rushed into him so quickly that he needs to pace his smile just to contain it. Wen Ning doesn’t like those grins, because they make something flutter inside him.

“At least, not yet!” Wei Wuxian adds. “Do you want one? I could figure something out—”

“No, it’s okay. I’m fine without one.” The last thing Wei Wuxian needs is another project to stay up all night for—least of all an unnecessary project that Wen Ning requested by accident. Wei Wuxian has done enough for him already.

“I’m serious!” Wei Wuxian says. “It shouldn’t be too hard. I can test it right now.” He trails a finger over the blood-red writing on the tablet and mutters a few words under his breath. The black smoke around it thickens. “Just something temporary, to see if the idea works.” He steps closer.

Nervousness immediately jolts through Wen Ning. It’s unfortunate that death has muted the nerve endings in Wen Ning’s skin but has done nothing to quiet his anxious mind, which is always at both its most overactive and sluggish around Wei Wuxian.

Wen Ning watches the tablet’s red markings begin to glow, watches Wei Wuxian’s expression harden to a chiseled concentration.

“Come here,” Wei Wuxian says.

If Wei Wuxian’s hunch works, Wei Wuxian will ignore his health until he finishes developing the method to give Wen Ning a permanent heartbeat. If it fails, Wei Wuxian will still ignore his health, this time trying until he finds a different method.

It’s best to not let him try. To give him a firm “no.”

But Wen Ning has never been good at those. Especially when it comes to Wei Wuxian.

He has also never been good at lying to Wei Wuxian. Although he must do so for the sake of Wei Wuxian’s health, it’s hard to admit that he doesn’t miss his heartbeat.

He misses many small details of his body. Jiejie had taught him the ways of Dafan Wen medicine, made him attuned to the evidence of life in himself. He knows how fast his heart rate is supposed to be while lying in bed, knows which pressure points she once worked at to calm his anxiety, knows the irregularities of the breaths he no longer takes.

He used to like his heartbeat, his breath, their soothing rhythm as he fell asleep. It was comforting to understand that much about himself, to follow this evidence of life, when in childhood a piece of his soul had been snatched and left the rest of him a puzzle.

Now the lack of this evidence of life feels like a testimony against him.

Wei Wuxian could return some illusion of life to him. Would be happy to do so.

Selfishly, Wen Ning wants him to try. Being a walking experiment has its unsettling moments—more accurately, a constant hum of discomfort—but there is something morbidly enchanting about letting Wei Wuxian mold him into whatever he envisions. Into the magnum opus of a genius.

An even more selfish part of him wants to beg Wei Wuxian to try, because how symbolic would it be for Wei Wuxian to restore his heart, of all things…

“Wen Ning?” Wei Wuxian asks softly.

“Okay,” he answers, and instantly regrets it.

Wei Wuxian smiles again, this time the smile he saves for when he is about to tinker with the Ghost General. Wen Ning has learned all of his smiles by now, and he still doesn’t believe that there is one specially for him. But Wei Wuxian gives him that reassuring nod, the warm curve of his lips, the eager yet slightly rueful glint in his eyes, and Wen Ning can only recall seeing that expression the previous times Wei Wuxian rewrote pieces of him.

Wei Wuxian explains exactly what he’s going to do and how the resentful energy will flow. Wen Ning nods, and Wei Wuxian rests a hand on Wen Ning’s chest—casually, moving without hesitation, like always. “It won’t actually restart your heart. Just give the illusion of a pulse for a few minutes.” He furrows his brow as his focus intensifies. “That is, if it works.”

The feeling of Wei Wuxian’s hand on the center of his chest is stabilizing, yet it sets Wen Ning’s mind into disarray, despite how many times he has felt this before.

Wei Wuxian closes his eyes, preparing to reroute the resentful energy inside Wen Ning.

A cool stream of energy enters Wen Ning. Growing colder, gushing rapidly—

Freezing—

Then over almost instantly.

Wei Wuxian opens his eyes. “Feel any different?”

Wen Ning feels a bit dizzy, which is new. He hasn’t experienced vertigo since becoming a fierce corpse. But that fades quickly, and soon he is left with only the feeling of thick fabric pressing against his chest where Wei Wuxian’s hand rests.

He shakes his head. “Do…do you feel anything?”

Wei Wuxian shifts his hand, presses harder against Wen Ning’s chest. Waits, then sticks three fingers in the groove of Wen Ning’s neck, and that feels nice. Wen Ning almost wants to hold his hand there—

“No. I guess it didn’t work.” Wei Wuxian sounds much more tired than before. He removes his hand.

“That’s okay. I don’t need a heartbeat.”

“You want one though, yeah?” Wei Wuxian begins sifting through the inventions scattered across the cave, perhaps looking for another device, perhaps just hunting for kindling to spark an idea.

Wen Ning had been too selfish by agreeing to this. Who knows how long Wei Wuxian will research this now?

“I don’t want you to start another project,” Wen Ning says, and the faint thread of anger in his voice is stronger than he intended, even though that anger is mostly directed at himself. It's been harder to control his emotions since resentful energy began feeding them.

Wei Wuxian looks up, startled. Then he grins and gives a small laugh. “Are you turning into your jiejie now? Bossing me around…”

The joke only strengthens Wen Ning’s resolve. It reminds him that he can invoke Jiejie’s authoritativeness. He has never been good at following in his sister’s footsteps, but calling upon her immovability is almost as effective at steeling him as resentful energy. “You should sleep or come help us outside instead of always working in here.”

Wei Wuxian rubs his eyes. “I know, I know. You’ve all told me many times.” He seems to regret the slight bite in his tone. He tends to snap once in a while, the effect of stress lashing out from behind his mask, but it always dissolves as quickly as it appears.

“I’ll listen to you,” Wei Wuxian says, gently this time. Wen Ning feels a wave of relief. But then Wei Wuxian smirks and adds, “For now. I really do have some theories I want to test.”

“But—Wei-gongzi—”

Wei Wuxian rises to his feet and walks over to him. Stands and looks at him for a while, then says, almost murmurs, “I have enough projects for myself.” He tucks a strand of hair behind Wen Ning’s ear, and Wen Ning nearly melts. “Let me do something that’ll make you happy.”

This is bad. Very bad.

Wei Wuxian isn’t even telling the truth. His projects are all for the protection of Wen Ning’s family, not for himself. But the fond touch, combined with the sweetness in Wei Wuxian’s voice, is already enough to make Wen Ning bend.

He would much rather take care of Wei Wuxian than be taken care of. But if he weren’t worried about being a bother, he would tangle his hair just for Wei Wuxian to run his fingers through it, to twirl and comb and braid it the way he unravels and reorders the resentful energy inside Wen Ning.

“You really don’t need to. Getting a heartbeat was just an idea,” Wen Ning mumbles.

“And a good idea! We all need more comforts around here, don’t we?” Wei Wuxian nestles three fingers in the groove of Wen Ning’s neck to search for a pulse again, his brow knit in thought. Despite himself, Wen Ning can’t help but be glad that he can feel that touch a second time.

When Wei Wuxian experiments on him, the tugs and surges of resentful energy don’t exactly feel good. It’s like ice cracking under his skin, leaving shards that poke out of him. Or like the bony hand of a skeleton yanking at his insides, ripping him apart and rattling the pieces around.

The pain and discomfort frighten him. Remind him of what Wei Wuxian is capable of. What Wen Ning is capable of.

Yet he finds enjoyment in the fear, in the icy fingers of resentful energy, because those are the shadows of Wei Wuxian’s hands on him, reshaping him.

And before Wei Wuxian experiments on him…that feels too good. The doting—almost loving—attention, the careful examination, mumbled words, soft touches…

Wei Wuxian pulls his hand away and brings it to his own throat. His glance darts around the cave as he seems to calculate something in his mind.

Then he grabs Wen Ning’s hand and presses Wen Ning’s fingers into his neck. The sensation comes delayed, but Wen Ning feels it.

A pulse. Wei Wuxian’s pulse.

Wei Wuxian continues looking around the cave and thinking, as if this is just another ordinary step in a routine. But to Wen Ning, this is—this is—have they ever done something this intimate? How can Wei Wuxian let him feel the rhythm of his pulse, of his life force, and act like it’s nothing?

Somehow that makes it even more intimate, that Wei Wuxian doesn’t seem to mind…

Wen Ning counts the beats to himself.

Too slow. Not by much, but Wei Wuxian’s heart rate is too slow for his age, his size.

Wen Ning would make a mental note to tell Jiejie, but he knows she’s already aware. Wei Wuxian’s health has been deteriorating since he stepped back into the Burial Mounds.

“Wei-gongzi?”

“Mn?”

“I…I have a different idea.”

Wei Wuxian lifts Wen Ning’s hand from his neck, but doesn’t let go. He smiles. “What’s that?”

“You can just give me the tablet.” Wen Ning looks down at the slab of stone, thin black wisps of smoke swirling around it. “I can feel its heartbeat.”

“You don’t want your own?”

He shakes his head.

Wei Wuxian playfully taps the back of Wen Ning’s hand a few times. Four times, to be exact. Wen Ning can’t help counting. “That heartbeat isn’t very human, though.”

Neither am I, Wen Ning wants to say, but he knows Wei Wuxian will scold him if he does. “It would be more than enough,” he says instead.

“You’re going to make the Yiling Laozu feel like a fraud if you let him give you scraps and call it ‘more than enough.’” He sighs and glances down at the tablet. “But you can take it until I come up with something better.”

“Then…is there something that you don’t think is a scrap?”

Wei Wuxian brings Wen Ning’s fingers to his neck again, and the warm pulse hums through his fingertips. “Well, there’s my heartbeat.” He winks. “I’d still call that a scrap, though.”

“No it isn’t,” Wen Ning blurts.

Wei Wuxian raises his eyebrows. Then his expression turns thoughtful. “Would you rather keep feeling mine?”

Wen Ning doesn’t reply, but he knows his face says everything. Not even rigor mortis can hide the answer.

“Forget about that useless rock, then.” Wei Wuxian pats his chest. “I’ll be your heartbeat for now.”

Wen Ning is sure that if he still had blood flow, he would be flushed. Panicked energy begins to twitch inside him. “N-No, it’s okay—”

“You don’t want my finest craftsmanship, and you don’t want my scraps! What am I going to do with you?”

“Nothing,” Wen Ning answers quietly.

“Yes, something.” He takes Wen Ning’s hand and tugs him toward the slab of stone he uses as a bed. “Hm. How should we do this? Maybe—”

“Wei-gongzi,” Wen Ning says, exasperated. He likes that Wei Wuxian never hesitates, never slows down—it’s attractive, in a frustrating kind of way—but it often leaves Wen Ning in the dust with his mind still sputtering and struggling to function.

“Alright, sit here.” Wei Wuxian gestures toward the bed. “If you want to,” he adds.

It’s pointless to ask if Wen Ning wants to. He wonders if Wei Wuxian knows that he doesn’t need Chenqing or yin iron to make him do just about anything.

Suddenly filled with dread, a dread that he is going to like this too much, he steps forward and awkwardly sits down on the edge of the bed.

“Perfect,” Wei Wuxian murmurs. He taps Wen Ning’s knee twice. “Spread your legs.”

Now Wen Ning is certain that he would be flushed if he were alive. “S-S-Spr—what?”

“Hey.” He smirks and points a finger at Wen Ning. “Who taught you to have thoughts like that? Don’t worry. I just need you to make room for me.”

Wen Ning gets out some garbled form of “okay” and spreads his legs, creating enough space for Wei Wuxian to sit on one of his knees.

Which Wei Wuxian does.

Sit on his knee.

He also wraps his arms around Wen Ning’s neck and pulls him closer until his cheek touches Wei Wuxian’s chest.

“I can’t do all the work myself.” He cups Wen Ning’s chin. “You have to move too.”

Wen Ning swallows—by habit, since he doesn’t really need to do that anymore—and positions himself so his ear rests over Wei Wuxian’s heart. He can’t feel Wei Wuxian’s heartbeat through the robes, but the gentle sound of thum, thum seeps into him right away.

Warmth, too. A lot of warmth.

“Good?” Wei Wuxian hums.

Wen Ning makes a small noise of contentment in the back of his throat. He fiddles with his hands in his lap, trying and failing to find a good place for them that isn’t Wei Wuxian’s legs. “I hear it.”

“Only hear it?”

He opens his mouth to object, but he knows that Wei Wuxian will spot the lie before it leaves his lips.

Wei Wuxian opens the collar of his dark outer robes and lets Wen Ning rest his head on the thin red inner garment.

Even warmer. Softer.

He can feel Wei Wuxian’s heartbeat.

He hasn’t felt something like this since he was a child. It’s…not what he expects.

Jiejie had taught him how to take a person’s pulse. How to place three fingers on each wrist and find the six pulse positions corresponding to the meridians of the body, to identify the different types of pulses—their depth, width, length, strength. How sometimes the pulse feels like beads rolling along a table, while other times it feels like the crisp pluck of a guqin string, and so on, each revealing secrets of the body, guiding how to best heal the patient.

All that knowledge had once been exciting. It seems mundane, now.

The medical analogies for a pulse at the wrist, Wen Ning realizes, don’t work to describe what a heartbeat from the chest feels like when it’s pressed against his cheek.

It’s like wading in a warm stream, sunshine beating on him. The gentle lap of current, its smooth rhythm—thum, thum—like the most natural and simple form of expression.

Wen Ning wishes Jiejie had instead taught him how to decipher a person’s soul by listening to their heartbeat, because with this strange, steady language reverberating in his ear, it almost seems possible.

“Now?” Wei Wuxian asks.

Wen Ning doesn’t make a sound this time.

He counts Wei Wuxian’s heartbeats and tries to guess how many fit into a minute. They remain like that, long after Wen Ning loses count, with Wei Wuxian’s warm body in his lap. They both relax, and Wei Wuxian’s heartbeat eventually fades into Wen Ning, like it’s his own.

His awareness returns when he notices Wei Wuxian’s heartbeat slowing even more. He pulls away, immediately missing the comforting solidness of Wei Wuxian’s chest, and looks up to see a calm, drowsy expression on Wei Wuxian’s face. His eyes are heavy-lidded and almost fully closed.

“We’ve been telling you,” Wen Ning says softly. “You don’t sleep enough.”

Wei Wuxian rubs his eyes. “You really are becoming bossy.”

“I just want you to take care of yourself.”

“You and your jiejie are like a pair of vultures. Circling me when I’m weak and picking at me!” He gives a wan smile and reaches around Wen Ning’s back to rub his shoulder. “But I appreciate that you care about me.”

Wen Ning absorbs the feeling of Wei Wuxian stroking his shoulder, the thrum of Wei Wuxian’s heartbeat still lingering in his ear. “I appreciate that you care about me, too,” he mumbles.

He’s not sure if Wei Wuxian hears, but figures he knows anyway.

* * *

The next day, Wei Wuxian lets Wen Ning listen again.

And the day after.

And the day after that.

It becomes a pattern, as reliable as the beat of Wei Wuxian’s heart. Wei Wuxian is more likely to skip a meal or lose a night of sleep than he is to shirk his self-proclaimed “heartbeat duty,” and Wen Ning begins to wonder if Wei Wuxian likes it as much as he does.

Then Jiang Wanyin and Jiang Yanli show up in Yiling.

That night, Wei Wuxian drinks like he wants to waterboard himself.

He forgets about heartbeat duty after that. Wen Ning lets him.

* * *

Two weeks later, Wen Ning brings a medicinal draught Jiejie prepared to the Demon Subdue Palace. The sun outside sank long ago, leaving behind deep blues and browns that bleed into the entrance of the cave. A single candle flickers on a rock shelf in the cave wall, illuminating the craggy wall and the floor strewn with bits of metal and wood and crumpled talismans.

Astoundingly, Wei Wuxian is not hunched in the corner scribbling away. He’s in bed scribbling away, his sleeves rolled up and his tied-back hair slightly disheveled the way they are when he digs in the mud pond for the lotus pods that won’t grow.

He hadn’t come out to farm since the day before. Wen Ning wonders if he’s fixed his sleeves or his hair since then.

Wen Ning steps over as quietly as he can manage with his clumsy feet and waits beside the bed, holding the draught with both hands and feeling a faint sensation of its warmth. “Wei-gongzi?”

Wei Wuxian presses the wooden end of his brush into the corner of his mouth. “Do you know how to make a Spirit-Attraction Flag attract only ghosts of a certain age?”

“…No.”

“Mn. I—wait—” He cuts off and draws what looks like disjointed pieces of an array scribbled in the margins around rejected brushstrokes.

Wen Ning lets him write for a while, then says, “My jiejie made this for you to drink.”

“And why,” Wei Wuxian asks without a pause in his writing, “is she spending resources on me instead of saving them for A-Yuan and the others?”

“You need medicine, too. Because your stab wound still hasn't healed, and—and Jiejie says your body still isn’t used to not having a gold—”

Wei Wuxian abruptly stops writing. Wen Ning clamps his mouth shut, and wishes he hadn’t said anything.

With a lack of pleasure that he fails to hide, Wei Wuxian scribbles a few more things, then stands up, slices a cut in his finger, and begins trailing red lines on a Spirit-Attraction Flag. “I’m going down the mountain to test this.” He looks over at Wen Ning with a softened expression and walks out of the cave.

Wen Ning doesn’t need him to say that it’s an invitation to follow. He always accompanies Wei Wuxian down the mountain. He’d rather Wei Wuxian sleep, but at least leaving the Burial Mounds always puts him in a better mood.

After they pass through the final protective array and the forest around the path begins to change from grim black leafless trees to green trees shaded blue by moonlight, Wei Wuxian seems to relax. But instead of testing the flag in the clearing where he usually does, he continues walking.

They reach the edge of the forest. A few clouds in the sky hide some of the stars, but the moon is out, a bright half of a silver coin. They pass the town from a distance, still close enough to see amber dots of light from the few lanterns lit at this time of night, but far enough that even Wen Ning’s sharp vision can’t discern clear shapes of the buildings. Wei Wuxian stares at the town once in a while, as if he can see something in the muddied blocks of light.

They enter a different patch of forest and stray just far enough inside for tree branches to reach across the sky again.

Wei Wuxian holds up the flag and examines it.

He lowers the flag to his side.

“Wei-gongzi,” Wen Ning says quietly.

“Yes?”

“Did you…”

He trails off when Wei Wuxian begins slowly rolling up the thin canvas. “I think I just wanted to go for a walk,” he says. “I’ll let the spirits rest today.” He sets the folded flag on a large rock and sits on the ground, his back against the stone, looking out at the plains and town from the recesses of the forest.

“I like walking with you,” Wen Ning says, and sits beside him.

Wei Wuxian usually buries his sorrow in his projects, in the crop fields, in his games with A-Yuan. This aimlessness is the closest glimpse Wen Ning sees of Wei Wuxian’s true state of mind. Wei Wuxian ensures that he is alone whenever he truly lets in his sorrow, but Wen Ning accompanies him during the times when he comes close. As if Wei Wuxian wants him to see—wants someone to see—but refuses to reveal everything.

No one else but Wen Ning has sat next to Wei Wuxian while he draws portraits for no particular reason (he never shows them to Wen Ning, but Wen Ning can guess whom he draws), no one else has slept across the cave from him while he mumbles in his sleep, no one else has wandered down the mountain at night with him.

Wen Ning doesn’t know if he should feel privileged or worried that Wei Wuxian lets him see this much.

He doesn’t think he deserves to know Wei Wuxian’s deepest thoughts, but he wants Wei Wuxian to pass more sorrow onto him, let him shoulder some of the pain. Wen Ning’s heart is dead, he can take it.

“Wen Ning,” Wei Wuxian says. He smooths his robes, adjusts his fitted sleeves. “I haven’t done heartbeat duty in a while, have I?”

“You don’t need to.”

“Maybe I want to.”

Wen Ning looks down at his knees, but Wei Wuxian scoots closer.

With their backs against the rock, Wei Wuxian hugs him in, rests his hand on the side of Wen Ning’s head, cradling him against his chest. Wen Ning tucks his arms away, trying not to touch Wei Wuxian, but Wei Wuxian takes one of his hands.

“It’s okay,” Wei Wuxian says.

Wen Ning waits a moment, wishing he had proper breath to steady himself, then carefully wraps his arms around Wei Wuxian, nestling close to his slender frame.

It feels different this time. Not because their position is different, or because Wuxian’s heartbeat is any faster or slower, stronger or weaker.

There is no purpose this time. It isn’t for Wen Ning to experience sensations more fully. It isn’t for Wei Wuxian to find comfort.

They are just two bodies cast aside from life, bodies that struggled to catch each other during their fall until they landed in each other’s embrace.

Holding Wei Wuxian feels as natural as his heartbeat, as inevitable as each thrum beneath where Wen Ning rests his head.

And just as fleeting.

Wei Wuxian is more alive than any person he knows, yet is wasting away more each day, having given up everything to protect the Dafan Wen.

And Wei Wuxian is not his. Only one thing ties them together: they have each made the other into a member of the living dead.

With whom did it start? Was it Wei Wuxian, who brought Wen Ning back as a fierce corpse, or was it Wen Ning, who held Wei Wuxian down as his core was removed? Or was it the world that did this to both of them?

But despite the thread of shared death that ties them together, Wei Wuxian could break that connection if he wanted to.

Wen Ning is bound to his family, bound to this unnatural body, bound to Chenqing's laments. He can never reenter the world.

But Wei Wuxian...

One day, Wei Wuxian may have the chance to belong in the world again. With his shidi and shijie, with Lan Wangji.

Wen Ning will always be banished to the margins of the world.

“How long are you going to live with us?” Wen Ning finds himself asking.

Leaves rustle quietly in the forest, clouds disappearing above their heads to reveal more stars against the dark liquid sky. An owl hoots questioningly far behind them.

“Until tomorrow,” Wei Wuxian says. “Ask me again tomorrow, and I’ll tell you again.”

“I can’t ask you that every day.”

“Then don’t ask me at all.” He strokes Wen Ning’s hair, over the back of his head and down his back. “I’m not leaving.”

Wei Wuxian continues playing with Wen Ning’s hair, running his fingers through it, stopping occasionally to work out a tangle. Not for the first time, Wen Ning wishes he could feel touch more strongly. He had dreamt of moments like these as a teenager, gentle caresses from Wei Wuxian, impossible moments. He hadn’t realized he would receive them one day after they had given up their lives for each other.

“When do you think we’ll get our next visitor?” Wei Wuxian asks. “Think I can make that Spirit-Attraction Flag into a Guest-Attraction Flag?” He chuckles. “We can hang it at the ridge. People will be drawn from miles to come talk to us. Tell Uncle Four to get lots of fruit wine ready." He fiddles with the sleeve of Wen Ning's robe. "I’ll have you test out the flag. Wear it like a cloak, and go walk around Yiling to see how many friends you make.”

“I can barely get anyone to buy turnips from me.”

“Change of plans, then! I’ll make a Customer-Attraction Flag, and we’ll finally be rich.”

Wen Ning smiles. “What are we going to buy once we’re rich?”

“Toys for A-Yuan.” Wei Wuxian rubs across Wen Ning’s shoulders, back and forth. “Every toy in Yiling.”

“We should buy every toy in Lanling, too.”

“That’ll need a lot more money. We’ll have to grow bigger turnips.”

“A giant one.”

“A single giant turnip?” Now there is real laughter in Wei Wuxian’s voice. “I’ll have to plant you as the seed to grow something big enough. Don’t tell your jiejie. Although she might figure it out when you disappear, and meanwhile a turnip the size of the Burial Mounds takes over Yiling.”

“I still won’t tell her.”

Wei Wuxian makes a low humming sound. “I can always count on you.”

Wen Ning melts more into Wei Wuxian’s embrace, surrounded by his warmth.

“Too bad that no matter who we bury in the lotus pond,” Wei Wuxian says with a sigh, “those plants still don’t want to sprout.” This time he doesn’t rub Wen Ning’s back or fiddle with him while he talks.

He’s never said something like that about the lotus crop without following it up with a confident proclamation—But when have I ever not achieved the impossible?, They’ll poke their heads out soon!, My lotus flowers will be the biggest you’ve seen, just wait!

He’s never left hanging the chance that the lotus crop might not grow.

Wen Ning waits for the cocky remark, but it doesn’t come. “They’ll sprout if you’re the one growing them,” Wen Ning suggests, filling in the declaration that Wei Wuxian missed.

“…Yeah.”

Wen Ning’s stomach sinks. He looks up. Wei Wuxian smiles at him and guides him to rest against his chest again.

“It’s only been two weeks. They might take a while,” Wen Ning says, his face nearly turned into Wei Wuxian’s robes.

“I’ll just cheat and make a Lotus-Attraction Flag.”

“I’ll help you.”

“Of course you will. You’ll also help me with the flag for attracting guests to marvel at the beauty of our lotus pond!”

Guests again.

Wen Ning knows that Hanguang-Jun had visited on the day his consciousness returned. Jiang Wanyin and Jiang Yanli had met with Wei Wuxian soon after. Both left marks on Wei Wuxian.

Is he thinking about them?

Wishing he had warmth of his own to give Wei Wuxian, Wen Ning hugs him tighter. He's not sure if they lower to the ground in one movement or slowly slide down, but eventually they lie on their sides, facing each other, arms tight around each other. Wei Wuxian’s heartbeat speaks, and Wen Ning listens.

I’m lonely, it whispers. I’m so lonely.

Who is there in the Burial Mounds for Wei Wuxian to feel the same affection toward as he feels about Hanguang-Jun? Or to provide the same comfort as the company of his siblings?

Everyone in the Burial Mounds has tried their best to provide the support of a new family for Wei Wuxian. He has even called them his family. But try as they might, how could the Dafan Wen replace his shidi and shijie?

The shidi and shijie Wen Ning helped Wei Wuxian save, only to steal him away from. He knows that it was Wei Wuxian’s choice to lead the Dafan Wen to the Burial Mounds and live with them, but would he have made that choice if he had never formed a relationship with Wen Ning and his sister? The thought makes guilt churn in his stomach.

“Wei-gongzi?”

Wei Wuxian runs his thumb in gentle circles over Wen Ning’s shoulder. “Yes?”

“Is that something you want?” He pulls away from Wei Wuxian’s chest to look up at him, though not quite into his eyes. “Guests?”

“Don’t take that all so seriously. If guests come, would they be as good of a drinking buddy as Uncle Four, or as good of a storyteller as Granny, or as energetic as A-Yuan? They couldn’t compete.”

“But you meant it,” Wen Ning says, surprised at the force in his own voice, quiet as it is. “I’ll help you bring guests here.”

Wei Wuxian smiles and brushes his thumb over Wen Ning’s cheek, the touch warm and soft like hushed words. “You’re already too good to me. Don’t worry about me.” He sighs and looks up at the sky. “Each of us will have things we want, but can’t have. It’s just part of living.”

Wen Ning, too, looks up at the star-studded sky through the dark silhouettes of trees. The full shapes of the constellations are broken up, but he can picture which stars are waiting behind the black hands of tree leaves.

As he follows the disjointed forms of the constellations, he decides that he will relieve Wei Wuxian’s burdens.

He is not sure at what moment he makes the decision, but it settles into his bones and becomes his purpose for the night.

Not just for the night. For as long as Wei Wuxian is by his side.

The day Wen Ning’s consciousness was restored, he had heard A-Yuan singing a song about walking the “single-log bridge.” Curious, Wen Ning had asked where A-Yuan learned the song.

“Xian-gege,” had been the answer. The song’s lyrics had been about Wei Wuxian walking alone into darkness.

Wen Ning will not let him walk alone.

If Wei Wuxian wants to walk the single-log bridge, Wen Ning will carry him across it.

“Will you tell me about them?” Wen Ning asks.

“About what?”

“The things you want, but can’t have.”

* * *

Thank you for reading! Next chapter is coming soon. If you enjoyed this fic, come visit me on AO3!

[imaginedxlan]

loverboy (neville longbottom)

a/n: i’ve said it once and i’ll say it again, i am a SIMP for neville longbottom. also yall...  one away from 1k, how’d that happen? you guys rock my socks and i love you the absolutely most! sorry this one is kind of short i just liked the concept.

you’ve been friends with neville longbottom since first year. becoming comfortable with the shy boy and his frog over the years, you began calling him a nickname that makes him wish you would see him as anything other than your best friend.

warnings: zero baby just pure fluff

neville doesn’t open up to just anyone. after years of being shut down in every conversation, left out of nearly every house activity, he’s built a wall to protect himself from the people of hogwarts who constantly make him feel less than. you’re one of the lucky ones. you’ve seen beyond his high walls, he’s opened up to you about his parents, his insecurities and eventually pulled him out of his shell to talk about girls with you.

the nickname started when he told you about his small crush on luna lovegood. he seemed so entranced by her, he kissed the ground he walked on. once you caught on to his pining, you’ve called him loverboy ever since. it’s not to be mean or tease him, you actually admired how much he devoted his time to thinking about her.

what you didn’t know, however, is that it was never luna lovegood he was talking about. when he would describe his feelings for luna her name was only a placeholder for yours. he’d loved you since the moment he laid eyes on you, thinking even your crooked teeth, frizzy haired eleven year old self was the most beautiful creature he’d ever see.

“good morning loverboy,” you call sweetly as you sit next to the dark haired boy in potions class. you never found this class particularly interesting, but being able to sit next to neville made it at least slightly more fun. his heart aches at the nickname, trying to conceal the blush that is creeping on his cheeks. “sleep well?”

“hardly,” he replies, still keeping up his façade. “harry talks in his sleep all through the night. keeps me and trevor awake for hours.”

you smile at the mention of his beloved frog. “oh my dear trevor! how is my favorite amphibian?”

neville can’t contain his smile or his heart that hammering in his chest. you’re the only person who’s ever shown interest in the things he likes, the things he goes on and on about for hours. you’ve never once stopped him from going off on a tangent about his mimbulus mimbletonia or how he’s lost trevor for the tenth time that week. you’ve never rolled your eyes when he comes to sit with you in the library. you’ve never shied away from sitting next to him in herbology though many students find his chiming in rather annoying.

“he’s good,” he replies, trying to stop himself from gazing at you for too long. “i think he misses you.”

you laugh at his response, you really do love that frog. “you better make sure i’m not replaced as trevor’s favorite girl when you finally make a move on luna,” you tease but his heart drops. he knows it’s only a joke but he can’t imagine loving anyone other than you. “if i’m losing one of my loverboys i don’t think my heart could take losing the other as well.”

except you could never lose him. he can’t think of a time when his heart would belong to anyone else. he couldn’t say the same for you. as much as he wants to be around you and knows the nickname isn’t meant to make him sad, it only reminds him of the fact that he’ll never truly be your loverboy. the time will come when you go for a weasley or maybe even that ravenclaw boy you’ve talked about in defends against the dark arts with you and neville isn’t quite sure his heart will survive it.

as professor snape opened his book at the front of the class, the class quieted down. veritaserum. you had heard about the potion, mostly from the weasley twins slipping it in their younger brother’s drink once or twice, but you’d never used it. neville begins to fidget nervously beside you, and you think you know why. privacy has always been very important to the boy and something forcing him to talk about his deepest darkest fears or worse, his parents, is probably eating away at him.

you’re wrong. he’s so nervous because he’s afraid he’ll slip up if he takes it and someone will accidentally ask him about you. he won’t be able to keep his secret anymore.

“s’alright nev,” you whisper to him, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it slightly. an act of intended comfort made him nauseous. “i won’t let anyone pull any secrets from my loverboy, promise.”

you give him a sweet smile which only makes his heart race more. you’re so beautiful, even without the potion he could’ve let that thought slip to you if he wasn’t too careful. as class goes on, he thanks his lucky stars he isn’t chosen for the demonstration. watching you brew the potion to perfection surely would have made it difficult for him to keep back all the feelings he has for you.

later in the evening, however, he did not get so lucky. the twins somehow convinced seamus and dean to slip a few drops of the potion they’d learned to make that morning into neville’s pumpkin juice at dinner. you didn’t notice or surely you would have taken it from them and scolded them for picking on the boy, but you were to engrossed in a conversation with hermione to catch it. neville almost immediately realizes what’s happened when seamus begins asking him questions.

“how your feeling, longbottom?”

“tired, honestly kind of sweaty, really think i need a shower after dinner,” he says before he can stop himself, he smacks his hand to him mouth and his cheeks go red. dean and seamus burst out laughing making all of you turn to the three of them.

“sweaty? why would you possibly be sweaty neville?” dean continues the interrogation.

“been nervous all day, especially in potions. couldn’t get my mind off the stupid veritaserum and if anyone would ask me about y/n,” neville replies with his cheeks turning more red by the minute. you now had your full attention in the boy and he couldn’t stop the word vomit spilling from his lips. “you should have seen her, she brewed the potion perfectly. she’s so smart. godric and beautiful, i-”

you immediately stop him by smacking your own hand to his mouth. “merlin’s sake what did the two of you do?”

dean and seamus have a cheeky grin spread across their lips. “fred and george gave us veritaserum to put in his juice, didn’t think this would happen.”

without a second thought you pull your best friend from the table and out of the great hall to spare him of any more embarrassment he would have to endure. neville follows you blindly, grateful that you didn’t sit there and start laughing at him. when you get to the common room it’s empty, everyone being at dinner. you pull him to sit on the couch in front of the fireplace, he couldn’t help but admire how beautiful you look in the glowing flame.

“are you okay?” you ask, pulling your hand from his to look into his eyes. “i’m sorry they did that nev, you didn’t deserve that.”

“i’m more than okay,” he replies with a lazy grin on his face before switching back to his stone cold face full of nerves. “i like it when we’re by ourselves, wish it happened more often.”

“what do you mean, loverboy?”

“i wish you wouldn’t call me that,” he snaps but immediately regrets his tone. “not if you don’t mean it.”

“what are you on about? i mean it.”

“not in the way i want you to mean it...”

you’re trying to wrap you’re mind around what’s happening. sure you and neville have always been close and you compliment eachother here and there but this is different. you don’t want to take advantage of him, not when he’ll tell you everything you want to know while you can sit back and enjoy the show. you swiftly get up and tell him you’ll be right back. he sits on the couch confused as he watches you run out of the room. you make it to the great hall and everyone is looking at you as if you’ve gotten answers out of him that they’d want to know but you ignore him. you lift the tainted cup that neville had drank out of just minutes ago and take a swig.

“y/n!” hermione shrieks and you swallow the liquid. “what do you think you’re doing!”

“getting answers.” you say simply before running out of the room. you don’t feel any different, maybe it hadn’t worked. once you reach the common room again neville is exactly where you left him. “back.”

“what’d you do?”

“i drank the veritserum too,” you tell him and his eyes go wide. “this is going to be a fair conversation.”

neville swallows the lump in his throat at the thought of the two of you being completely honest with each other. he’s partly afraid the truth he’s about to hear is that you only want to be his friend, or that him confessing his feeling for you will only push you away. but there’s another part of him that’s hopeful, you took the veritaserum so this would be “fair,” that has to mean something.

“what were you doing to say when i stopped you earlier?” you ask him. “you said ‘i’ but i stopped you.”

he tries his best to push down the answer but it keeps making its way up his throat. “i was going to say i couldn’t keep my eyes off you all class.”

blush creeps onto your cheeks but you’re not certain why. you noticed him looking at you in potions but you assumed he was trying to understand how to make the potion.

“you’re turn.”

he thinks for a while, unsure of what he should ask you. “do you like matthew, the boy you talk about in ravenclaw, like like him?”

“i like him as a friend, nothing else,” you say back, your heart beginning to race. “do you like luna?”

“i never did, i like someone else.” he answers. you wish it was your turn again, you want to ask him who, part of you knows he’s going to say you given what you’ve learned this evening. you reach out to hold his hand and his touch makes your skin burn. “have you ever thought of us as more than friends?”

you want to say yes, you know it the answer he wants to hear, but it’s not the truth. you can’t lie to him even if you wanted to. before this moment, you only thought of him as a friend. not because you dislike him or think he’s unattractive, it’s just all he’s ever been to you. you take a deep breath and turn your eyes down to the floor.

“honestly, no,” you say back, neville swears he can hear his heart break within him rib cage. his heart burns at your response. he’s gotten his answer. “when did you start to think of me as more than a friend.”

he never came out and said he had feelings for you, but you’ve connected the dots. everything he’s answered, all the questions he’s asked points to him looking at you as more than just his friend. you’re not sure how to feel about it.

“first year, the minute you spoke to me i couldn’t help but think you were the most beautiful girl i’d ever seen, i still do, ” his words make your heart burst. you turn your head to meet his eyes again. they’re burning into you’re gaze. “what is it about me that’s made you only think of me as a friend, do you think i’m ugly?”

“godric no!” you say a bit too quickly for your own liking. “i never thought of you that way because that’s all we ever were neville, friends. i noticed how handsome you were last year, the long hair suited you, but i think you look nice any way you are. i had a dream about you at the christmas last year, i think that’s when i noticed how handsome you were. i guess i just never entertained the thought because you never gave me the impression you wanted anything more than this.”

he feels less shattered, less like you just ripped his heart out with your bare hands. hearing that you think he’s handsome sent butterflies to stomach. he’s quiet and so are you.

“do you want to stop?”

“no, i have another question,” he replies, pulling his hands from yours and backing away from you. you miss his touch already. maybe you did like him a little more than you thought. he braces himself for what’s about to come out of his mouth, for your reaction to what’s about to come out of his mouth. “if i asked to kiss you would you say no?”

“no.” you tell him quietly, if you thought your heart couldn’t pound any faster, it did. it feels like it’s about to jump from your chest. “do you want to kiss me?”

“merlin yes,” he almost whispers. he doesn’t move from his spot, eyes avoiding yours at all costs. always being the braver of the two of you, you take matters into your own hands. you pull yourself closer to him and rest your hand upon his cheek, forcing him to make eye contact with you again. you suck in a breath, the closest the two of you had ever been. “i’ve never kissed anyone before.”

“i know.”

you lean forward only a few centimeters until your lips are barely touching. you hesitate only because you know after this moment you can’t go back to being just friends again, this is going to change everything. even so, there’s like a magnetic pull between you too, you’re craving the feeling of his lips against yours.

while still deep in your thought and hesitations, your eyes drilled shut as you try and decide what to do, you feel his lips press against yours and you melt. it’s better than either of you could have imagined. while neville had be dreaming of this moment for six years, you had only just begun thinking about him in this way minutes ago. you place your free hand on the side of his neck and he places his on the small of your back, pulling you closer into him. You move yourself so that your sat on top of his thighs, attempting to expel any space between the two of you. his hands rest on your hips just before you pull away from him to catch your breath. his eyes flicker between yours, looking for an answer to what you’re feeling.

“i’m sorry,” he says sheepishly, thinking the worst. “do you want to stop? we can pretend this never happened.”

“i never want to stop.”

you connect your lips with his again, slinging your arms around his neck to feel the closeness again. you know he’s never done anything like this before, he’s probably nervous out of his mind, so you attempt to ease his worries by guiding his actions. in just the few minutes you’ve spent with your lips on his, you’ve because obsessed with the feeling. you can hear how heavily he’s breathing as his hand moves from your side to be entangled in your hair. you can’t help but smile, this moment is pure bliss.

you eventually pull away from each other, you decide it’s best to keep this night to just his first kiss. you lean forward and plant a soft kiss to the side of his neck before burying your face in the soft skin. eventually his breath evens out, and he moves his arms to wrap around you.

“what happens now?” he asks, hoping the veritaserum can give him some sort of clear view into your brain.

“i don’t know,” you reply, it’s honest, you have no idea what happens from here on out. “what do you want to happen?”

“i want to kiss you like that a million more times,” he breathes out which makes you laugh into his neck. looks like ther veritaserum hasn’t worn off just yet. “can we just sit here for a minute so we don’t have to think about what’s gonna come?”

“you read my mind, loverboy.”