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tommysparker · 3 years

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Never Forget You [Chapter 2]

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Jedi!Reader A/N: i told you it goes downhill fast ehehehe. enjoy :) Warnings: angst with a hint of fluff. im sorry in advance. italicized paragraphs = flashbacks

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but stare at you from his seat.

After all these years of waiting and wandering, he was finally getting the answers a long lost version of his younger self longed for. He should be paying more attention, but he was still trying to comprehend that you were standing here, a couple feet away and he was helpless to do anything about it.

Unbeknownst to him, you also felt helpless but for an unrelated reason, kind of. You stood in the center of the room, all eyes on you. Some were hanging on to every word you said, others were judging and trying to read you. You could feel it, all the energies mixing together to create a mess of signals that made you feel small compared to them as they sat in their almighty chairs.

The one that stood out the most, however, was his. Mainly because you couldn’t feel it. He was hiding his sensitivity, but why?

You were able to sense it outside the Temple when you first arrived. It hit you almost as if it had been calling, reaching, waiting to connect your Force bond, but before it could it was pulled away leaving an empty and cold path in its wake.

“Something to say, Master Y/l/n does I believe,” Yoda spoke, his voice cutting through your train of thought.

You cleared your throat a bit, “Uh, yes. For the past ten years I’ve been on Gyfill undercover as a fellow Seperatist. My mission was to retrieve information and report back to Master Windu and Master Yoda. Recently, I overheard talk of a doomsday weapon. I asked around more and managed to get my hands on the blueprints. It was too dangerous to stay afterwards so Master Yoda pulled me out and...here I am,” You ended your little speech with an awkward shrug.

Obi-Wan let a small fond smile form on his face at the gesture.

The rest of the council on the other hand were less than amused.

Master Ki-Adi Mundi spoke first. “Why was the entirety of the council not made aware of this so-called ‘mission’?” he asked skeptically.

“It was highly classified and only a certain number of people could be trusted at the time,” Master Windu defended, leaning forward in his chair. “Master Yoda and I took careful consideration when choosing who knew what.”

“But why send such a young one? Barely into their first month as a Jedi Knight?” Master Plo Koon questioned.

You looked to your former Master, curious as to what his answer would be. You knew the truth, but did everyone else?

Master Windu and Master Yoda exchanged a look, a similar one to that they had the first time you were informed of the mission. As one of them opened their mouth to reply, a thick Coruscanti accent spoke first.

“Because they were already qualified for it. Master Y/l/n excelled during their training and passed the trials with flying colours. I witnessed it myself. I see no reason why the former Padawan of Mace Windu shouldn’t go on such a mission,” Obi-Wan praised, his eyes never leaving your figure.

You kept your gaze forward.

“Thank you for your input, Master Kenobi,” Master Windu hesitated, glancing between the two of you. “As Kenobi so...keenly praised, Master Y/l/n was, although young, completely capable and, being my own Padawan, an obvious source of trust.”

You tried not to show the sense of pride that filled you, after all validation from your superiors is always a good feeling. Obi-Wan’s words still floated through your mind, however. Praise from a Master is always welcomed, but this felt different. Nevertheless, you didn’t spare him a glance.

“Further discuss this later we will. Rest now, Master Y/l/n should,” Yoda said, leaning against his cane as he stared you down.

You bowed your head, “Thank you, Master,” You said gratefully. In all honesty you were feeling exhausted, the adrenaline from returning home gone and the jet lag catching up had taken a toll on you. You tried to mask it in your Force signature, however, things are not always so easily hidden from the Grand Master himself.

Without looking back, you made your leave.

Obi-Wan watched you go. The Council members started discussing something but all their words fell deaf in comparison to the loud creak and slam of the doors closing. It took him a heartbeat to stand up and start to chase after you.

“Going somewhere you are, Master Kenobi?”

He paused, realizing he acted without thought and now had to come up with a lie. “Yes, er, I figured I would escort Master Y/l/n to their room...as you know they haven’t been back long and the Temple halls can become quite the maze.” It was a rash excuse but plausible enough to cover his impulsive decision.

Master Yoda narrowed his eyes for a moment and studied the man before nodding his head, permitting his exit.

Obi-Wan smiled briefly before quickly dashing out of the room. He looked left and right, searching the Force for the direction you had gone. It was surprisingly easy to locate you, given that he wasn’t adjusted to feeling for Force signature after so many years.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

“Master Y/l/n!”

•••

You laughed as you jumped across the river and ran towards the closest tree, quickly using the Force to help you reach the branches as you climbed. “Nice try, Obi. Better luck next time.”

Obi-Wan pouted at the bottom of the trunk. “That’s not fair.“

“Not my fault the high ground always wins,” You taunted, retracting your lightsaber before jumping back down. “You have much to learn, young Padawan.“

“Oh ha ha,” Obi-Wan spoke sarcastically, but on the inside he was grinning widely. With your trials coming up quickly, there hasn’t been a lot of time for you both to simply play around like you used to.

You lightly bumped the young man with your shoulder as you ran past him towards the waterfall. “Come on, last one to our cave has to clear out all the aspory!”

Obi-Wan followed, calling after you in protest. But anyone could hear the laughter in his innocent voice.

“Y/n/n!”

•••

You froze in your tracks at the sound of that name. A name you haven’t heard in almost a decade. Instantly, you regretted stopping. It would have been easier to just keep walking away, pretend you never heard his voice. His sweet voice. But you did stop, and now you had to deal with what you’ve been mentally preparing since you packed your bag on Gyfill.

“General Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan tried not to frown at the monotone in your voice. He didn’t expect you to run into his arms after all this time, but he certainly wasn’t prepared for the blank expression you bore when you turned around to face him.

It was the first time he got to see your face up close since you left. From a distance you looked like the average adult, but up close he could finally recognize you.

Your face had matured quite a bit, although that was a given. Gone was the youthful glow he vaguely remembered, replaced with a look only those haunted by war would hold.

He would know, after all. It was the same look he witnessed every day in himself.

“I… uh…” He looked away as you raised your eyebrow, clearing his throat. “It is nice to see you again after all these years, Y/n.”

“Likewise,” You replied, however, your face didn’t express any joy that is typically paired with friendly reunions. You glanced around the corridors, as if anxious to be caught in this situation. “As much as I would like to stay and chat, and I really must be getting to my chambers,” you excused, taking a subtle step backwards.

“I understand. Perhaps I could escort you there? We can catch up and you can tell me about all the adventures you must have endured during your stay on Gyfill.” Obi-Wan offered a smile and extended his hand, putting the other behind his back in true gentleman fashion.

You stared at his hand for a moment, noticing how much bigger they had gotten. Slight wrinkles were visible, along with a few scars no doubt from past battles. His veins were more prominent as well and areas of his palm were a light shade of red.

When you made no move at the gesture, Obi-Wan awkwardly let his hand fall to his side, a blush rising to his cheeks in embarrassment. “Or uh... perhaps another time?”

You wanted to say something, but no words would come to mind. Instead, you simply nodded your head before turning on your heel and casually walked away as best you could, ignoring the gut feeling inside telling you giving him the cold shoulder was the wrong move. It doesn’t matter. The less we see each other the better.

He wanted to follow, reaching his hand out as he watched you leave him once more. Short flashes of you walking towards the ship paralleling you walking down the hall came to mind and it felt like being dunked in a tank of cold water.

It was clear you were no longer the person he knew in his youth.

Obi-Wan was smart enough to know when to take a hint. If you did not wish to rekindle your friendship, then so be it. Perhaps it was for the best.

•••

“How can that be?” A part of you chided yourself for questioning your Master, however, you could not help it.

Master Windu gave you a disappointed look, as if he expected you to already be aware of your so-called sins. “You and Obi-Wan and destined for great things, young Y/l/n. Your attachment to each other puts both of you at risk.”

Attachment?. “Master, what are you implying?”

Master Yoda decided to step in. “Reason there is, chosen you were for this mission. Bond between Padawan Kenobi and You, dangerous it is.”

“How can being friends be dangerous?” You crossed your arms and frowned.

“Knight Y/l/n, the fact that you are arguing with us right now proves our suspicions. Qui-gon and I have let it go on for far too long and it ends here. Remove your attachment to Obi-Wan Kenobi… or give up your Jedi status.” Master Windu, for all the times he managed to keep a cold stone face, couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit of remorse after announcing the ultimatum. The bond between Master and Padawan was no-doubt strong, and of all the Padawans he’s had, you were by far one of his most prized pupils. Seeing you leave the Order and disgrace his lineage is the last of his few desires.

Your mouth gaped as your eyes widened in shock. You stared at the two Master’s in front of you, contemplating your next words. The Order was your life, everything you’ve grown to center yourself around. You couldn’t leave.

There was no choice.

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It will only get more angstier from here ehehehe. What do you think will happen next? Reblog with your theories or send me an ask!

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leviaju · 4 years

Text

forgiveness

pairing: belphegor x GN! reader, hints of everyone x reader

words: 8.1k+

genre: angst, fluff at the beginning and a bit at the end if u squint

warnings: mentions of mc and lilith’s death, foul language

preview: “I’m sorry,” He begins, voice much weaker than anticipated. “I know that will never cut it, and it will never be enough, but I’m sorry.”

“You’re right, Belphegor. It won’t cut it.”

hey guys what up. so... i’ve done a lot of thinking about belphegor’s dynamic with MC, and, like many others, was really bothered by the sudden switch after... he killed them. u know. typical stuff. i wanted to fill in the gaps!!! if im being completely honest, this has sat in my wips for.... like half a year. it’s my first time writing for obey me, so i hope that everyone’s not too terribly ooc LOL

anyways yeah. i mention how belphegor killed mc a couple of times, so proceed with caution! hopefully, if i get any ideas, the next stuff i write will be a lot lighter. hope you enjoy! (also requests r open soooooooo)

The weight on your chest crushed your rib cage, threatening to snap your bones like they were nothing more than twigs. All you could see was the pitch black of eternal night, and whether your eyes were opened or closed you couldn’t tell. What commanded your attention was the searing pain in your lungs, growing exponentially every half-second, and the unrelenting grip that was slowly shattering your esophagus. No matter how hard you struggled, squirmed and fought against the weight holding your body down, there was no use. It was pointless. The pain spread from the raging fire in your lungs to the tips of your fingertips, and everywhere felt as if you had been set aflame. Slowly, a light illuminated the force keeping you down.

You couldn’t make out much, save for the cackle that rang insufferably through your ears, and the intense eyes that were staring you down.

They held no remorse.

Bones ache as you rest against your bed, finally allowing the tension in your muscles to melt away. You’d never mistake this feeling for regret of a busy day, having spent so much time with the people you care about, but it certainly took its toll on you.

It began with Satan, who’d asked you the night before to accompany him on an early morning walk. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence — he’d invite you to join his morning routine on every day off, and you’d never refuse — hence, at the wonderful time of 7:00am, you were venturing around the Devildom, hand in hand with the Avatar of Wrath. The two of you would walk, occasionally resting on a park bench for longer than either of you would like to admit, for about an hour and a half before you took an official break. The time was filled with pleasant chatter and comfortable silence. Every so often he’d squeeze your hand, and when you’d look over, the fondest of smiles crossed his face. It was a reminder of how glad he was that you joined him.

At around 8:30, he took you into a café for breakfast, and two of you spent only about thirty minutes there chattering away happily. For the most part, he was vividly and excitedly discussing a book he’d just finished the night before…

Until you were interrupted.

“Hello, lovely!” Asmodeus wrapped his arms around you from behind, just before pressing a kiss on your cheek. Satan sighed, resting his head in his hand as he watched the interaction.

“My selfish older brother’s been hogging you all morning, I couldn’t help but want to whisk you away!”

Despite the glare Satan was sending his way, Asmodeus took a seat next to you, happily engaging in conversation as he completely ignored his brother. He told you that the mall was opening in about an hour, and Asmo desperately wished to get his perfectly-manicured hands on a new makeup product being revealed that day.

“But of course I can’t go alone! How positively dreary that would be.” His fingers twined with yours as he looked at you hopefully, and you ran your thumb across his hand. A sheepish smile crept its way onto your lips, and you looked over at Satan. He simply nodded, flicking his hand as a gesture for you two to leave, and Asmodeus didn’t hesitate. He was quick to stand and pull you with them, holding tight to you as he whisked you away. You called out to Satan, now alone at the table with a reluctant smile on his face as he waved goodbye.

“Thanks for breakfast! Get home safe!”

You almost missed the chuckle that left his lips, the café door closing behind you.

Asmodeus kept you until noon. He got a hold of the lipstick he wanted almost right away, but insisted on buying an outfit to match the colour. Regardless of what you’d initially thought, the outfit wasn’t for him.

“Oh, we’ll look positively stunning together!” He exclaimed after about two hours of forcing you in and out of changing rooms, putting his hands all over you to “adjust the clothing” as he deemed necessary. Near the end, you could feel soreness deep in your muscles creeping in from such an active morning, but Asmodeus’ cheery face and constant flirtations helped you forget about it almost completely.

It wasn’t until you got home that you truly felt the effects of on-and-off walking since early in the morning. Be that as it may, your stomach was growling, loudly reminding you that it was now past lunch. As much as you wished to give up on food for the time being and instead head to your room to collapse, the pain in your belly was enough to urge you to cease any arguments, instead ready to try and ignore the ache in your bones in order to quell the angry rumbling of your stomach.

Unfortunately, when you finally made it to the kitchen, there was no food prepared. Instead, what you found was a dejected Beelzebub, frowning softly as he once again was at the receiving end of a lecture from the eldest of his brothers. As quiet as possible, you snuck into the kitchen, trying to listen in on their conversation.

There was silence, followed by a sigh.

“It’s easier to simply ask what’s going on as opposed to trying to eavesdrop, MC.”

You jumped, then bashfully made your way into the kitchen, a sheepish grin on your face. Lucifer was rubbing his temple.

“Beelzebub was supposed to be on lunch duty, but ended up ‘taste-testing’ to the extent that he ate it all. Again.” Lucifer sighed. The typically perfect eldest brother was being run ragged, if the bags forming under his eyes told you anything. “So, instead of working on the papers I have to get finished for tonight, I’m stuck making lunch while he cleans up.”

Beelzebub’s frown tugged at your heartstrings, and in spite of the exhaustion clawing relentlessly at your bones, you relented.

“Why don’t I help? Four hands are better than two,” you proposed, and a small smile graced Lucifer’s face. He lifted his hand to brush the disheveled black hair out of his face, and your chest ached just a bit at the sight. You made a mental note to drag him to bed for a nap the next time you saw him like this.

“That would be more than welcome. Please, if you may.” Already you turned to start working, but Lucifer’s voice made you pause.

“But no feeding Beel. He’s eaten more than his fill already, he can wait until we’re all done.”

Needless to say, every so often you’d slip Beelzebub a piece of chopped vegetable or cooked meat, and he’d very happily (but quietly!) munch away, his expression radiating warmth and joy. And Lucifer, who seemed to almost be omniscient at times, never once mentioned it. Once the three of you were done cooking, Lucifer placed his hand on your head, patting you gently.

“Good work, MC. I must leave now, but I trust that the two of you will be able to clean everything up. Your help was much appreciated. You will be paid back in kind for all of your hard work.”

If nothing else, the slight blush on Lucifer’s face as he ever-so-gently pressed his lips to the crown of your head was more than enough payment.

“Thank you.” Beelzebub cleared his throat, washing the dishes as you dried them. “I… Thanks for helping. And feeding me.”

His smile warmed your heart, and you nodded, bumping your arm with his gently. The small bit of pink that dusted his cheeks compelled you to coddle him, but you resisted the urge. Barely.

“Anytime, big guy.”

After you ate lunch, the only thought in your mind was the prospect of curling up under your covers and passing out. The fretful, broken sleep the night before wasn’t helping at all in keeping you awake, and that on top of the rest of the day’s events had you yearning for the feeling of your pillows.

Unfortunately, you hadn’t even made it through the door when your phone began to blow up, one notification after the other in quick succession.

GGKKJFLFJG

CMOE QUIC K

PLS

SUPE R RARE EVENT IN MONONONOKE

PELASE

YOU HVE TO BE PARTNERED WIHT SOMEONE TO GTE THE PRIZE

PL E A S E

HURRYHURRYHURRYHURRYHURRYHHHUUURRRRRYYYYYYYYYYY

You found yourself in Leviathan’s room, sat in his lap as he explained the event to you. Your half-asleep brain did its best to keep up with his quick speech, but that, along with the warmth of his chest against your back, became the most soothing lullaby.

“Hey! Normie! I agreed to let you sit here so I could easily help you through the event, but if you’re going to fall asleep on me, I’m pushing you off—“

“I’m awake! I’m awake.

...Now, what was I supposed to do?”

The unintentional giggle that escaped your lips at his expression caused Leviathan to huff, exasperated, despite the flush of his face. Diligently, however, he thoroughly explained the event, for the second time, and the method to obtain the rare prize: a level 2000 I’m Going To Murder You So Hard That You’ll Come Back To Life Just To Die Again Death Sycthe, the strongest weapon ever released in the game. It was a partner event, which explained Leviathan’s desperate and urgent request for aid. You didn’t mind though. While yes, you’d probably never be able to get to his level of gamer, you were more than happy to go along for the ride. It made him happy!

Leviathan rested his chin against your shoulder as he played on his phone, focused to such a degree that the usually easy-to-fluster demon was completely unphased by your proximity. Your phone, set to AutoFight, rested untouched near Leviathan’s leg, abandoned on the floor. You watched him expertly take out enemies that would have one-hit KO’d you through heavy eyelids, and every time he beat a wave of enemies, his attention would momentarily avert from the screen, looking at you from the corner of his eye expectantly. A kiss on his cheek was more than enough to motivate him to continue on, albeit with a pink glow on his cheeks until his attention was once again completely wrapped up in the game at his fingertips.

“Levi! I said open up, goddamnit!”

The pounding against the door was enough to distract Leviathan from his game, subsequently killing his character in the process. He groaned, cursing the demon who interrupted the two of you as he gently lifted you off of his lap, before getting up to open the door.

“The hell do you want?!”

To be completely honest, you were so wrapped up in watching Leviathan play his games that you had forgotten about your weekly movie night with Mammon, who had come over to his younger brother’s room to drag your ungrateful ass back to your own. Leviathan had cleared the event in Mononoke Land hours ago, but not wanting you to leave just yet, invited you to keep watching him play. Setting aside how tired you were, how could you say no? You’d wanted to spend time with him, too.

Unfortunately, you lost track of time, and your phone, battery completely drained from the event, rested uselessly in your pocket. A consequence of this happened to be missing the countless messages and calls Mammon had sent your way, before he began his hunt for you throughout the house. The last place he checked was, of course, Leviathan’s room.

“Come on, human, I ain’t got all day. No one keeps the Great Mammon waiting!”

“Except for MC,” you heard Leviathan mumble under his breath, and a laugh escaped you before you had the chance to slap a hand over your mouth. Mammon flushed deeply, before striding into his brother’s room.

“Hey, wait, you moron! I never said—!”

The force of Mammon throwing you over your shoulder wasn’t enough to hurt, but it certainly was enough to leave you breathless for a moment. “Let’s go, fragile human. I picked the perfect movie already.” Mammon’s words came out in a bashful mumble, but he had enough courage to lift his head and smirk at Leviathan as he carried you out of the room. All you could do was smile apologetically at the blue haired demon before Mammon turned, bringing you out of sight.

Mammon was all complaints as he carried you to your bedroom, but you knew it came from a place of love. Even though he’d never admit it, you could tell he was hurt by you unintentionally ignoring him. Because of this, instead of demanding he let you down, you allowed him to hold you like this, not a single complaint leaving your lips.

When he brought you to your room, you were set on the bed you’d missed dearly and he went to put the movie in the player.

“Hey! No sleepin’ on me, alright? I wanna watch the movie with ya, and I can’t if you’re passed out, now can I?”

And so here you are now, bed frame creaking as Mammon climbs onto the mattress. Rubbing your eyes, you nod, and lean into him once he gets close enough for you to.

“Seriously, I’m gonna hafta have a serious talk with Levi,” Mammon grumbles, slipping his arm around your waist and pulling you in so that you’re almost in his lap. He pulls the blankets over the two of you as you rest your head on his chest, and hum quietly in return. “He used up all your energy, and now we won’t be able to get to enjoy the movie as much! Honestly…”

The vibrations of Mammon’s words can be felt through his chest, and you simply cuddle into him more and try to train your bleary eyes on the television screen. The Avatar of Greed shuts up completely when you take his hand in yours and press a gentle kiss to it, before doing your best to focus on the movie. As time passes, however, the idea of giving into your whims grows more than tempting, and oh-so-easy for you to do.

“Hey! Yo, MC! Seriously… You’re hopeless.”

A chiding, yet gentle voice draws you from the confines of rest. You puff air from your nose in response, cuddling closer to whatever it was that had been so comfortable in the first place.

“MC… Come on. Ya gotta wake up, ya didn’t even watch any of the movie! It was really good, y’know.”

Mammon’s hand rubs circles on your back as you mumble incoherently, a noise to acknowledge the fact that he‘s been talking, and that you are indeed awake now.

It takes a good amount of time, as well as some gentle encouragement from Mammon, to get you to finally open your heavy eyes, and even longer for you to be able to apologize to him for missing out on the movie he was so excited to watch. He pouts a bit, but the blush on the highs of his cheeks lets you know that he didn’t mind all that much. You smile and yawn, and his chuckle resonates in your ears.

“I gotta go now, otherwise Lucifer’s gonna kill me for staying so late. Sorry I woke ya up, but ya look so tired now that you’ll probably fall back asleep right away.”

And so, after a quick goodbye and a kiss on the cheek (which made Mammon turn the prettiest shade of red), you close your door and… sigh. If you had been able to stay asleep, the fact that you aren’t in pajamas and haven't brushed your teeth wouldn't be that much of an issue. Now that you‘re slightly more conscious, however, it’s hard to convince yourself to simply climb back into bed. Your breath is bugging you a bit, and the jeans you’re wearing certainly aren’t at all as comfortable as your pajama pants. For that reason, to your own dismay, you begin getting ready for bed — properly this time.

A small “finally…” tumbles from your lips after you finish your nighttime routine. Lacking any form of grace, you plop into bed once more and pull the blankets to your chin, nuzzling into the pillow. Your bed still smells like Mammon’s cologne, and you hum softly to yourself before closing your eyes and waiting for sleep to take over once more, and hold you hostage until late in the morning.

Alas, sleep seemed to be evading you now, similar to how you had ignored it during the day. The mattress you lay on simply isn't comfortable anymore, and the blankets that hug your body cause you to overheat. Unfortunately, if even one limb is out of the blanket, you get so cold you start shivering. None of your typical sleeping positions are anywhere near as effective as they typically are, and you’re left to wrestle with sleep alone, hoping to beat it into submission so you can finally get some proper rest.

After about 45 minutes of tossing and turning with no results, you finally relent. The nap you’d taken while watching the movie royally fucked you over, and you groan. Eventually you decide to give up on trying to fall back asleep, and huff as you sit properly on your bed.

Blanket dragging behind you as it drapes from your shoulders, you slowly make your way through the silent hallways of the House of Lamentation. The only sounds floating through the walls were the light buzz of electricity running through the wiring of the house, and your own footsteps as you began walking up one of the many staircases in the large building.

You aren’t sure how long you’ve been walking, the passage of time different at night to a hazy mind, but eventually you arrive at your favourite area in the house, second only to your lush bedroom. There are no artificial lights, only the gentle cast of the night sky providing the ideas of shape in the planetarium. You’ve never seen stars so vibrant and bright, and there are so many more in the Devildom than anywhere you could go back home. Even though the only light comes from the stars, it’s enough to create soft, fuzzy edges around everything in the room; this includes the bundle of various blankets mussed in the centre of the floor. Slowly, cautiously, you make your way towards the pile.

Since you’d arrived in the Devildom, the planetarium at the top of the House of Lamentation became your safe haven. Your room, without a lock on the door, was way too easy for intruding demons to enter without permission, and on nights when everything became too much for you to handle, you’d head up to the planetarium to clear your mind. There’s just something so calming about a starry sky on a clear night that releases you of your fears and anxiety, and helps you get a grip on the situation around you.

After freeing a certain someone from their attic-based captivity, however, you learned that the planetarium was a place favored not only by you. Since he’d been freed, you’d been kind, but there were still fears plaguing your mind, reminding you of everything that has transpired between the two of you. It’s something that you can’t escape, following you even - especially - in your sleep, when you wished you’d be the most at peace. It makes sense, considering the sin he embodies, but you wish it wasn’t like that nonetheless.

Once you’d learned that this was one of his favourite rooms in the house, especially on nights when he can’t fall asleep, you found yourself avoiding this area. It’s not that you hate him; it’s the opposite, really. Nevertheless, you can’t help but feel the tightening of his fingers around your neck, and the burning sensation in your lungs that’s screaming for oxygen, and the desperation to alleviate the seer of deprivation.

Still, you trek on. Closer and closer to the pile of blankets, your gut cries to you to run away. You ignore it. The nearer you get to the nest of blankets, the faster your heart beats, the more lightheaded you feel. But you continue.

Eventually you get close enough to make out the shape of a familiar pillow, the cow print on the case worn and well-loved. From the moment you walked in the room, you knew he was here. All the same, you walk on, and the only sounds in the room are the gentle taps of your clothed feet against the tile, and the quiet noises of your quickened breaths.

You’ve avoided being alone with him since… Since you… Since the event. Your heart screamed at you to forgive him, to love him just as much as you love his brothers. That said, there’s nothing in you that can stop your stomach from churning whenever he gets too close.

Butterflies beat aggressively within your heart and stomach, and it’s years before you get within his range of sight, but you sit down on the floor, holding the blanket tight to your body.

There’s one beat,

two beats,

three beats of silence before you can hear him sucking in a breath through his teeth. In your peripheral you can see his lips parting, closing, parting again as he tries to find the words. He heard you walk in, and was pleasantly surprised when you didn’t immediately bolt in the opposite direction. However, this proximity leaves him with an entirely new predicament. He wants to talk to you, he wants to laugh and joke with you the way his brothers do, but one look at your face and he notices the dark bags under your eyes, and the frown that tugs at your lips as you stare up at the stars. He can hear your heart racing, and feel his own in the tips of his fingers. He opens his mouth again, but the crack in his voice betrays his usual collected personality.

“I’ll go,” Belphegor begins, begrudgingly starting to gather his blankets. His body freezes when his eyes pass over your figure and you’re looking right at him, through him, and he swears he can feel the blood in his veins stop pumping. Your expression is unreadable, almost scary, and he’s never in his life been in fear of a human until this moment.

The seconds pass as years do, both of your bodies chilled to the bone but neither of you able to look away. In the end, the one who casts their gaze somewhere else is you, and he exhales loudly.

“Don’t.”

Your reply is simple, but he’s stuck in place. Slowly, he nods, sitting down again the way he had been prior, and pulling his beloved pillow close to his chest. He can’t breathe, the tension suffocating. It doesn’t help that now you refuse to look at him.

“... If you want,” he replies dumbly, staring at the floor. He feels trapped in place, afraid to move and scare you off. Despite every nerve in his body screaming at him to leave you be, he stays. You told him to, after all. Slowly, you sit down, his blankets creating a low wall between the two of you.

It’s only now that he gets a good look at you. You're tired, he knows, watching as your eyelids droop and your lazy movements when you get more comfortable under your blanket, but there’s more to it than just that. You seem so fragile, like sugar glass, breaking with even the slightest amount of pressure. He feels he can reach over and shatter you with the gentlest of touches, and that thought alone roots him in place. Since you came back, he’s never seen you without a smile. Your genuine smile was the prettiest, he decided rather early on, one that lights up your face and brightens those around you. Belphegor really, truly loves your smile.

He knows there was a point in time, not long ago, where he could have made it so no one saw it ever again. He can’t help but be grateful he didn’t succeed when he sees you smiling at his brothers.

That’s never the smile you show him though. It’s not for lack of effort; you certainly try, and he loves you for that. But the smile you show him is always plastered on, and he knows you’re doing it for his sake. With Belphegor, your smile never reaches your eyes. Be that as it may, you’re never weak around him. Fake smiles prove exactly how strong you really are, but your heart races every time he enters the room. As much as he wishes your palpitations are out of excitement, he knows better than to give himself false hope.

That’s why he’s so taken aback when he looks you over and you seem so vulnerable. Never, not in a million years, would he ever let himself believe that you’d allow yourself to look weak in front of him, not after what he did. Even so, here you are, shaking, knees drawn into your chest, and his heart soars because you’re showing him a new side to yourself. It aches at the knowledge that you’re feeling so vulnerable because of him.

His eyes burn holes in the side of your head. You know he’s watching you, studying you, but you can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. Not when the hands he uses to pull the blankets over his body are the exact same ones that led you to your untimely and violent demise, and not when every time you look at his face, you can also see Mammon’s above you, sobbing as he tries to will you not to fade away into nothingness.

There’s no putting it nicely. You were murdered, and Belphegor was the one who killed you. As much as he tries to pretend it never happened, to act around you the same as his older brothers do, you would never forget. Neither would he, regardless of the effort he puts into pushing the memory out of his mind. His chosen way of coping was to laugh with you, to get close and have you forgive him without acknowledging the situation. It was too painful to talk about, after all. He willingly, happily snuffed out the life of someone his brothers love, and someone he’d find himself loving too. You became someone who changed him, helped him grow and be better. It was easier, simpler to act as if you’d met him the same way you’d met any of his brothers.

Belphegor killed one of the last remaining parts of his past, a part that, while once warm and light, mutated and infected him, causing his anger to grow out of control, like a weed that suffocates any flower that tries to flourish. He killed a descendant of his sister, and the fact that you’re here now is more of a second chance than he thinks he could ever deserve in all his millenia of living.

And yet, here you are. Scared and shaking, but here. The silence has stretched on for longer than he’d like; he wants to be able to love you, openly and happily, but knows it won’t happen. It can’t, unless he does what he thought was the very last thing he’d do.

“I’m sorry,” Belphegor begins, voice much weaker than anticipated. He can hear your heartbeat pick up, and he curses himself mentally. Your lip between your teeth, you remain silent. His nerves force him to speak more.

“I know that will never cut, and it will never be enough, but I’m sorry.”

There’s more silence. He feels like he can’t breathe, the tense atmosphere forcing its way around his throat and tightening its grip. He doesn’t know how long it takes you to even contemplate replying, let alone allow yourself to respond. Belphegor’s ears ring almost deafeningly loud. He can’t take it.

“You’re right.”

His eyes, which he trained to the ground, dart up to your profile once more. You pause, wetting your lips.

“You’re right, Belphegor. It won’t cut it.”

There’s not enough time to process your words before he really, really looks at you. Almost fearlessly, you meet his eyes.

Almost fearlessly.

The shaking of your hands betrays the strength of your voice. Belphegor’s chest aches.

“But…”

There’s a pause as you speak. He can’t look away again, even as your eyes meet the stars once more. There’s no chance he’ll miss a word you say, even if it tears him apart.

“It’s… it’s really difficult. I know you know that, but…”

Each time you pause, Belphegor’s mind begins storming. He can’t figure out what you’re going to say, or how you’re going to react, and it drives him crazy. He’s usually so good at reading people, but you’re an enigma. It sends a chill down his spine.

His throat is caught. Even if he had words to say, they wouldn’t be able to come out. So he sits in silence as you find your own.

“I don’t want you to feel worse than you do.” You lick your lips. “Or maybe I do? I… I really don’t know. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about you, Belphie.”

The nickname tugs at his heart, more than he could ever admit. He wants to cry, wants to scream, wants to do anything other than look at your melancholy face, knowing he’s the problem. He wants to run and hide, to sleep forever. He can’t, though. Not when you’re here. Not now.

Knuckles turn white as he clutches desperately onto his pillow. His breath shakes as he draws in air.

“I want to love you. I want to love you as much as I love your brothers, and care about you as much as I care for them…”

You struggle to find the words.

“... But it’s hard.”

You curse your lack of eloquence. Now, of all times, when your words are the only thing that enable you to communicate how you truly feel, they fail you. This might be your only chance to ever properly show Belphegor how you feel, what makes you so conflicted every time he walks into the room with a smile on his face, and yet all you can say is “it’s hard”. Obviously.

A breath finds its way into your lungs, and the sound of your lips parting in the otherwise silent planetarium echoes in your ears.

You continue.

“It’s hard because every time I see your face, or I hear your voice, or I-”, you falter, heart catching in your throat, “or you touch me, I can’t help but be reminded of what happened.”

Belphegor doesn’t dare tear his eyes away from your form. The grief that settles into his face perfectly matches your own, eyebrows upturned and bottom lip quivering just the slightest bit. Even the trembling of your hands is replicated in his own. He’s never seen you like this, so incredibly vulnerable, and it tears him apart inside to know that he is the cause of it.

A shuddery breath comes from Belphegor, and you fight your instincts to check if he’s okay. You know he isn’t.

The silence deafens you, thundering in your ears so harshly that you're tempted to place your hands at the side of your head to muffle how quiet it is. You don’t, however, and whether it’s because you don’t want to look crazy, or because you’re afraid you might shatter if you move, you’ll never know. Do you want him to talk? Do you want him to say anything? Do you want an apology?

If you had an answer for that, you’re sure that things would have patched themselves up much quicker than this. You caution a glance at Belphegor, and the weight pressing down on your chest gets heavier at his expression. It feels almost as if you can inhale the guilt he feels, the emotion radiating off of him in waves.

“I… Logically, Belphie, I get it.” Again with that cursed nickname. Usually, hearing it from your lips makes Belphegor feel warm and goddamn near giddy, but now it only seemed to drive the knife in his gut further.

“I understand what happened and why you did it. I may not agree… but I get it, you know?” You swallow.

“In the end, I’m still here. And… and I’ve come to learn that you’re nothing like that anymore. You’ve grown, and changed, and the guilt and anger that consumed you took control, and that's why you-- that’s--”

You pause, clutching the blanket around you to try and ground yourself. The shakiness in your voice is not missed by Belphegor, and even if it had been, there’s no way he’d be able to ignore the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. Slowly, subconsciously, one of your hands comes up to rest against your neck, a phantom of the grasp that once threatened to crush you.

“S-So… I understand why you did it. And I’m alive, and we’re friends, so it should all be okay, right?” Belphegor casts his glance away.

“But Belphie… as much as I want to forgive you, I also know that I’m never going to be able to forget what happened. It’s there in my dreams, and it’s there in your smile, and it’s there every single time your arm brushes mine and I flinch like a total loser.”

A weak chuckle makes its way out of your chest, and the halfhearted smile that follows forces a tear from your eye. You’re quick to wipe it away, hopefully quick enough so that it goes unnoticed by Belphegor.

It does.

What he does notice, however, is the frustration that holds tight to the edges of your sentences. The frustration is not directed at him, no. You would be yelling if that were the case, and maybe that would be easier for him to hear. No, this frustration is directed at yourself. You’ve been trying so hard, and all Belphegor has been doing is running away. His teeth dig so hard into his bottom lip, trying desperately not to show any anger he feels at himself, that he tastes iron.

“And then we became all buddy-buddy, you know? Like I was never lied to, or used, or manipulated, or-- or--”

Belphegor is torn from his self-pity when you continue, and he almost wishes you’d stop speaking. The thought that you might break him with your words has him shaking, and a feeling similar to fear courses heavily through his veins. Please, stop. He wants to go back to running away.

But you continue, as you always have.

“And I’m left not knowing how to feel. I’m so mad at myself for being such a coward and not being able to just get over it like everyone else, and I’m so fucking pissed that I can’t just exist around you like I do for everyone else. I mean, I used to be terrified of Lucifer, too.” Another fragile laugh, and you sweep the hair from your eyes with a shaky hand. Belphegor swallows hard.

“But I… I can’t pretend like nothing happened. As much as I want to be near you, and hug you, and take naps and play pranks on Luci with you… I can’t. I can’t act as if what I feel isn’t real, and what you did didn’t happen. It’s so hard, Belphegor.” You sigh, and finally look at him once more. He can’t meet your gaze, slumped over himself and hugging his pillow so tight to his chest it seems as if he wishes to disappear into it. “Especially because I really, truly want to understand why everyone loves you so much. And I want to love you, too. I want to know why Beel smiles every time you’re brought up in conversation, and I want to smile just the same. But… But right now, I can’t.”

Talking has gotten easier. The words that used to escape you have become accustomed to being used again, and confidence has restored in your gut. You sit a bit straighter as you watch Belphegor carefully, a sad smile lifting your cheeks.

Belphegor knows that this is when he should swoop in, say something so intellectual that you’re caught off guard, and he can save you from… himself. This knowledge does nothing to save him from himself. He can’t even open his mouth to mime a sentence, let alone actually speak. The thought of how pathetic he must look settles under Belphegor’s skin, and he can feel his irritation rising. Not at you though, never at you. Not even when… When it all happened. His anger was misplaced, but he has never been angry at you.

Finally, when the quiet becomes too much, he forces himself to meet your gaze. The way you look at him, just as vulnerable and bare and scared as he is… he feels safe. He knows, even though your words sear his heart, that you never mean to hurt him, especially now. You’re being honest, and simply expect the same from him.

Belphegor inhales a deep breath, before willing himself to speak.

“I thought--” he croaks, and quickly clears his throat. Fuck. “I thought that if… if I could pretend that nothing happened, then I wouldn’t have to face any consequences.”

He curses audibly. Just how pathetic can he sound? Belphegor’s voice is hoarse and quivering, and weak. “Weak” is never a word that he would have used to describe himself, but now it echoes hauntingly against the confines of his skull. One of the most powerful demons in existence, and he finds himself quaking before a mere human. He cares for you, though, and he cares for you viciously. Something in Belphegor knows that he’s never going to be able to prove that to you unless he pushes his way through this.

So he forces himself to continue, even with every cell in his body desperately screaming at him to stop.

“I did what I did out of a place of guilt… and regret. I couldn’t stand the fact that it was because of me, that it was my fault, that I’m the reason that Lilith--”

Belphegor stumbles over his own words, and he sets down his pillow before he accidentally tears a hole through it. Instead he braces himself on the cool floor, in need of something steady to hold onto. This whole conversation shook him to the core. He can hardly believe he’s talking about his sister. She’s a topic that he’s avoided even around Beelzebub…

But if Belphegor ever wants even the possibility that you’ll forgive him, he knows he has to. Everything is on the line. His blunt nails press against the tiles and he focuses on steadying his voice.

“I couldn’t accept that it was my fault.” A newfound steadiness weaves its way around his words, and he finds himself sitting a bit straighter. “I’m the one who introduced her to the human world, and kept bringing her back. I’m the reason she suffered, and why the war started, and why we fell, and why she…” Belphegor coughs. “In the end, I couldn’t accept that I’m the one who killed her.

Your heart yearns to tell him that no, he’s wrong, it’s not all his fault. You know it won’t help right now, though, and that it isn’t your time to speak. Settling back a bit, you let your blanket fall from your shoulders.

Belphegor’s heart stutters, and pounds so hard that he feels like it's trying to tear through his chest. Even so, he doesn’t miss the way your hand reaches out to smooth over his own, and for a moment he feels himself wanting to melt just from the simple touch.

Belphegor pulls away. He doesn’t deserve your comfort, not yet.

“So… So when you said that you’re a descendant of Lilith, I-- I couldn’t help myself. I jumped at the chance to get to know you, learn about what makes you similar and what makes you different. Her blood flows through your veins, and I was quick to ignore what I did in favour of getting to know you, and… and inevitably, becoming just as fond of you as my brothers… but that can’t erase what I did.”

The feeling of understanding floods you and you find yourself nodding at his words. To be completely honest, even now, you’re scared. Your heart beats for many reasons, fear one of them, but you don’t run away. Not anymore. You couldn’t bring yourself to even if you wanted to.

Your hand, abandoned next to Belphegor’s, lay dormant. The need to comfort wills you to once again place your hand on his, but you don’t move. When he’s ready, if he ever is, you’ll be there.

Just as he’ll be there for you.

“I killed you, MC. And in doing that, I killed Lilith. Again.”

Countless emotions storm their way through Belphegor’s conscience, despair clawing at his throat, regret snapping his back, and guilt slowly crushing him under its weight. How is it that one can feel so empty, and yet so filled to the brim with misery?

“And not only that, but if I succeeded… I would have completely missed out on getting to know you, and caring about you as much as I do now. It would have been a loss that I never would have understood, but know for a fact that I would have felt. Even… Even when I was proud,” he spits out the word as if it’s poison, “of what I’d done, watching my brothers’ hearts break at the sight of your body… Even then, I felt it. The ache. It’s so fucking stupid.”

His tone, now bubbling with anger, stills you. It’s not directed at you, and you know this, but despite yourself, you freeze. Belphegor notices, and quickly clears his throat, relaxing his shoulders. He allows your heart a moment to slow as he regains his composure, and you find yourself breathing again.

“I know that me saying sorry is never going to cut it.” Belphegor turns his body to fully face you. He’s no longer running from his feelings, or from you. He knows he can’t anymore. Hesitantly, he lifts his trembling hand to place over yours. The muscles in your fingers tense, and he pauses to gauge your reaction. When you slowly nod your head once, he delicately places his hand on yours, using his thumb to gently begin massaging the tension away. “And I know that even if I do everything right from here on out, that there’s a chance that you won’t ever forgive me. And I understand why.”

Your heart sinks at his expression, his gaze locked on your joined hands. As aloof as he normally is, you can see none of that on his face now. When you turn over your hand he quickly pulls away, but your shaky movements to bring his hand back and intertwine your fingers urges him to go on.

“But I want to try. And really try this time. I want you to be honest with how you feel, whether I’m frustrating you or scaring you or anything like that, and… and I want to be honest with you too. I…”

Belphegor trails off, but you squeeze his hand. He draws in a slow breath.

“No matter what happens, no matter how you feel, we’re stuck together for the next few months. I want to spend that time getting to know you, and I want us to be as close as you are with any of my brothers… but I also want you to know that you shouldn’t feel forced. If it’s ever too much, I need you to tell me, and I promise I’ll back off.”

The smallest of smiles makes its way onto your face as you quietly agree. Belphegor doesn’t allow himself to try and figure out if it's genuine, out of pity, or sadness, but in spite of everything, it makes him feel a bit lighter. Just a bit.

“This won’t fix everything right away,” you say, and he now knows that your smile is a combination of the three. Along with this, though, Belphegor also knows the small sparkle in your eyes is hope, and he’s willing to take that hope and nurture it for however long he must.

“I know,” he sighs, but even he can feel the small tilt of a smile on his face, “but I’m willing to take as much time as you need to decide how you feel about me. And… And if you decide you hate me, which is fair, and that you never want to even be in the same room as me, I’ll respect your wishes.

Until then...Until you decide that you really, truly hate me, I won’t stop trying.”

There’s no way of telling how long his words linger in the air around the two of you, circling around your heads and making their way through your body. Even so, Belphegor diligently watches you, wanting to make sure he’s not overstepping his bounds. He even contemplates letting go of you, but is reassured when slowly, almost unnoticeably, you begin smoothing out the lines on the back of his hand with your thumb.

As much as you want to tell him that you could never hate him, you also know you can’t promise anything. Still, for now, just as much as him, you’re willing to try. You stay in silence, more comfortable than you’ve ever been in his presence, gently caressing the hand held in your own.

Eventually, Belphegor clears his throat once more. The vulnerability has made him tense and rendered his voice weak.

“Can… can you hug me?” He all but whispers, fragility making his body quiver once more. He was completely open about his feelings for the first time in a lifetime, and the intensity of it left him craving affection. He knows how unfair this is to you, but he can’t help himself. He wishes to be held, for his fears to be quelled by someone so much stronger than him. “If you don’t want to,” he falters, speaking quickly, insecurely, “I won't even touch you. I-If you do, I promise I can keep my hands behind my back, and I won’t even--”

His words end abruptly as he feels you release his hand, and his heart sinks. He debates running away again, until he hears you moving towards him, and he finds he’s frozen in place. Slowly, but surely, with more courage circulating through your veins than you’ve had all night, you make your way over the blankets that divide you and position yourself right next to Belphegor, pulling him into your chest. Even now, he can feel how quickly, persistently your heart races, and yet you stay. True to his word, Belphegor rests his hands on the ground behind his back, but he doesn’t stop himself from nuzzling into your chest… and he cries. The complete, uninhibited release of his emotions hit him like a truck, and he sobs heavily into you, tears slowly but surely staining your shirt. You adjust yourself so you can hold him closer, slowly and reassuringly rubbing his back as he lets go of everything he’s been holding on to for longer than you can even imagine. This is a man who’s run from his emotions for centuries, and the fact that he’s willing to face them for your sake comforts you, cradles your heart and presses gentle kisses against the cracks. You know that you’re not going to wake up tomorrow with everything okay, but for now… for now you’re comfortable with his touch. Heaving in a deep, steadying breath, you reach down just enough to take Belphegor’s arms, and guide them to rest his hands on your hips. At this silent permission, he slowly, delicately wraps his arms around your waist, despite craving your body closer, wanting to hold you tight and never let go. He cradles you like you’re made of the most brittle glass, and you smile. The gesture touches your heart, and… and you feel safe. You know that all he wants to do is embrace you as tight as he can, but he doesn’t, even with permission.

Here, in Belphegor’s arms, you feel safe. Here, where Belphegor’s grip on you is so gentle that it wouldn’t even crumple paper, you feel loved. As he cries into your chest, holding you as if you were an antique, hope slowly fills your heart.

Everything is far from perfect, but it’s still on the right track, here in the quiet planetarium.

1K notes · View notes

takesomet · 4 years

Text

Resistance

MF/F Interrogation Tickles. NSFW AT ALL.

She tried to move her shackles but it was no good. The x-frame she was currently on had her bound tight. She didn’t get scared by much but this had her terrified. Her white bra and panties were the only thing hiding her modesty. The guards had been a bit too rough on her. No marks left but they were determined to get her on here.

It had been her own fault. She had been careless and tripped the security system, moments later and she had been surrounded. The guards had been keen to take her alive and she had been keen to go. This was going to cause a headache for HQ. Allied nations aren’t supposed to spy on each other. But everyone knew that they did. Her government would have to apologise or make a trade. At least she knew she wouldn’t be hurt.

The door slid open. A man dressed in military uniform entered. He was 6”1 tall and muscular. Blond hair with deep brown eyes. He strutted towards her admiring her bound form. She looked stunning, her brown hair flowing over shoulders, her brilliant green eyes staring back at him.

‘I want to congratulate you commander on your successful infiltration of our little operation. Not many have been able to get so far into our complex.’ He spoke with a gentle yet powerful voice.

She said nothing.

‘You will be delighted to know that your government is keen to have you returned to them. Naturally my government has agreed. The exchange will take place in 24 hours...’

Inside she breathed a sigh of relief.

‘But my government would like to know what you learned whilst you were inside my complex. And they have given me 24 hours to find out.’

‘If you lay a finger on me there will be an international outcry.’ she said.

‘Of course you know that, and my government knows that too. But they also know how capable i am. I am Captain Lechtani. I am pleased to make your acquaintance Jess. It is Jess isn’t it? The name we have on file.’

Silence.

‘We know a lot about you Jess.’ He said moving towards a console. ‘Within 24 hours I will know everything you have seen and there will not be a mark on your body.’ He pushed a button and the xframe moved so that she was now lying down. Only then did she see the table next to her. Lechtani moved to it.

‘You see Jess we know so much about you. All your weaknesses and I am going to have that information.’ He picked up something from the table, she strained to see what it was. Her heartbeat had increased. He moved again slowly and grabbed a stool. He sat at the foot of the frame where her bare feet were bound and helpless.

‘Tell me child, are you… ticklish?’ He spoke with a wide grin and with horror she saw that he was holding a single feather.

God no! She remained silent, repeating her training in her head.

‘Lets find out shall we?’ He brought the feather to meet her right sole. He started to stroke it teasingly up and down her foot. ‘Tickle tickle tickle’ he said.

Inside her head the reaction was immediate. Like ticklish fire it swept up her body, her nerves commanding her to laugh and to scream. She had to hold it in.

‘Oh i love it when they try to resist. Coochie coochie coo.’ The feather kissed her now squirming sole, finding every winkle, fluttering over her sensitive areas. She stifled a giggle.

‘It won’t be long now ticklish girl.’ He said and with free hand peeled her toes back and began to work the feather between every single toe. That did it, it had to be let out.

‘hahahahehehehehehehehehhe please no ahahehehehehhe no my toes ahehehehehehe im ticklishahahehheheheheh.’

‘There we go! I love it when my songbirds finally sing! Tickle tickle!’ The feather danced in harmony to her wriggling toes. No matter what defences she put up the feather found a way in. He now produced another feather and with his other hand began to tickle both her feet in earnest.

‘hahahehehehehehhe not my hfeehehehehehehhetttt hahahehehehhehe please no!’ She screamed.

‘Its foolproof you see. No mark on your body and you have to try and explain that the info was tickled out of you ha! Now tell me what you know about my complex.’ he said.

‘hahaheheheheheheh noooo ahhehehehehehhe ahhehehhe never.’ She replied.

‘Then I can’t stop. Tickle tickle. Your bare feet are so deliciously ticklish!’ He grinned like a cheshire cat as the feathers continued their dastardly work. Up and down, stroking and tantalising her bare flesh. Her feet tried to escape but only found themselves in front of another's feathers kiss. They stroked her firmly, then they stroked her gently. The fast and slow was catching her out.

‘hehehhahehehehehehhehe noooo mercy ahheehehehehhee’ she squealed.

He stopped and stood up. She was panting hard and it had only been a few minutes. He came over to her chest and picked up some scissors. With a few cuts her bra was removed and her breasts fell free. Her nipples were already betraying her.

‘I see we are enjoying our torment.’ He said.

No response.

Bringing the stool round he sat next to her chest. He brought a hand to cup her breast and with another he lowered a feather onto her nipple. He started sawing it back on forth on the erect nub.

She screamed. Her nipples were her most sensitive of placed. Ever since she was a girl she could remember stroking them only briefly before she would shudder. Now in this torturers hands they were being roughly tickled and teased. Her nipples were delighted.

‘Tickle tickle tickle. Such sensitive titties you have. Cootchie cootchie coo.’ He teased.

She bucked and thrashed in a vain attempt to escape his clutches but he held her firm. The feather stroked her nub again and again. Up and down, side to side, she screamed again for mercy. She did not receive it. Satisfied she wasn’t going anywhere he now had a feather tickle each nipple. Both her aching buds being stimulated and teased. She couldn’t stand it.

‘HAHAHEHEHE OH FUHAHAHCKKKK STOP HAAHHEHEHEHE PLEASE AHAHEHEH.’

‘Tell me what I want to know ticklish girl.’ he demanded

‘OHAHAHEHEHHEHEGOD HAHAHEHEHE I CANTTTTTTTTT’

‘Then more tickles for you. Sasha!.’

The door opened and Sasha walked in. Short and wearing a military dress she looked a picture of sex. Black hair, buxom with a round behind she saluted as saw Lechtani.

‘Sasha, be a dear and help out the little spies feet. I believe they are lonely.’ He said.

‘Yes commander’ she said with a voice that would seduce the pope. She brandished her long nails and began to tickle and torture her bare soles. The combination of nipples and feet were unbearable. Whilst Lechtani sawed her nipples, Sasha raked her soles.

She moved her head from side to side, move her body in some way to stop the torment. Every time she looked down she viewed her helplessly ticklish nipples being teased beyond her ability to cope. Lechtani grinned the whole time, mocking her, laughing at her plight. Sasha kept up the audio torture. She told her what a ticklish slut she was, how soon she would break.

‘Are you ready to talk my dear?’ Asked Lechtani.

‘AHAHEHEEHE I CANNNT HAHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEE PLEASE HAHAHEHEBEBE MRRCYHAHAHE’ Her desperation clear in her voice.

‘Then you leave me no choice. ‘ Came the response. Turning to the table he picked up two bullet vibrators. Taking care he taped them both onto her aching nipples. Once he was satisfied they were attached he set them to ‘high’

She has tried this once at home. When she would spend hours playing with her sensitive body. One time she had tried to see how long she could leave her bullet vibe on one nipple set on ‘low’. She lasted 7 seconds. She had squealed loudly then. She squealed louder now.

They were mechanical and merciless, a constant buzz of torture, locked on and unrelenting in their torment. Every second sent shockwaves through her. It traveled down to her feet only to be sent back again by Sasha's nails.

With the scissors back in his hand Lechtani set to work removing his victims panties. He was delighted to see that she was soaking wet. The last piece in her torment could be complete. Slowly and deliberately he parted her soaking wet lips, her clit erect and wanting. He leaned close and could almost taster her need. With the softest feather in his collection he started to slowly brush her clit. Up. And. Down.

Her laughter stopped. She shrieked. Then silence again. Her body convulsed and tied to assess the new sensations. She screamed and then she laughed.

‘AHAAHHHAHAHRHRHRHRHR FUCK NO AHAHAHEHEHEHE NOT MY CLIT AHAHAHHAHAHHEHEHE NOT MY NIPPLES GOD HELP AHAHAHEHEHE’

The feather fluttered between her legs, her clit eager for the kiss of the feather sought it out. He oblieged and twirled it over sensitive head. He stroked up and down and side to side. He saw her hole start to convulse. She was going to come.

He stopped. She screamed.

‘OH GOD AHEHEH LET ME AHAHAHEHEHEHE CUM AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!’ She wailed.

‘Tell me what you know!’ He yelled back.

Briefly her definace appeared.

‘NEVER YOU FUCKING PERV HAHAHEHEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHA’

Sasha had begun to lick and suck her toes. Her warm tongue running up and down her arches. She snaked around every inch of her foot. The vibes on her nipples continued their busy work. Lechtani tried again. Back he went with not one, but now two feathers. They surrounded her clit and he traced her pussy lips with light lazy strokes. She was soaking wet. Every few minutes a feather would be too damp to be effective but he had plenty of spares. Every time he saw her convulse he would stop and deny her orgasm again. This happened six more times. As he was leading her towards her seveneth he again asked the question.

‘Tell me what you know and you will cum right now,’

Sasha, her feet, the vibes, her nipples, his feather, her clit. The desperate need to cum. She snapped.

‘ILL TALK ILL TALK!!!!! AHAHEHEHEHEHE JUST LET ME CUM PLEASE HAAHHEHEHEHE!!!!!’ She screamed.

He continue to brush right until he was sure she was three strokes away.

‘Start talking.’ He said cooly. Sasha stopped tickling and starting sucking toes again.

‘I KNOW YOIR RRRGGHHH UHGHH WORKING ON A NEW HHHAHEHEHE KIND OF HAHEHEHE TANK’

One stroke.

‘ GOOOOOD AND THAAT HAHEHE YOU PLAN AHEHEHE TO TEST IT IN A MONTHHAAHEHEEH’

Second stroke.

‘AANNDDD THAT IT AHAHEHE WILL BE COMPLETELY ROBOTIC HAHEHHH PLLELEEEAASSSSSEEE.’

Third stroke.

It was immediate and loud. She wailed at the top of her voice as the wave started and took over her entire body. She shook in her bonds. Lechtani leaned in and took her clit in his mouth. He licked and sucked the quivering head and she continued to scream. She came over and over again. Sasha licked her convulsing toes whilst tending to their own needs.

Minutes later she was spent. The vibes turned off. Her shame complete. She lay their limp. All of her energy gone.

Sasha took notes on what she has said. Lechtani came to Jess's head.

‘You did very well commander. Very well indeed. You have told us everything you know about the complex. I believe you.’ He said. She didn't answer.

Sasha confirmed that the details had been sent back to HQ and handed him a note. He read it quickly and tossed it.

‘Well commander you have 22 hours until the exchange. High command however has asked me to see if their is anything about your own government you can tell us. You know, like an exchange of ideals.’

He looked her straight in the eye as she screamed again.

He set the vibes to ‘high’

The End.

386 notes · View notes

keilemlucent · 4 years

Text

lavender latte: vi

(T (for now!))

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

chapter 1 || chapter 2 || chapter 3 || chapter 4 || chapter 5 || chapter 7 ||

masterlist

word count: 6.8k

finally. god.

warnings: none really! reader’s foot booted, but that’s about it.

---

well. here we are. thank u to everyone for reading this sweet, sweet story. we’re not through it yet, but i’m happy to offer a meal with this chapter. enjoy lovies. beta’ed by the lovely love @keiqos.

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You had several problems after returning to your apartment from the hospital. One of your coworkers was nice enough to drive you and your things back, but quickly the niceties stopped and your vague hell began.

Exclusively being on crutches sucked. Navigating your apartment and trying to live somewhat normally was a massive pain. Even just showering was a task that sapped most of your energy. Standing one-legged and balancing made your body ache with a deep soreness, especially the first few days you returned.

This was not even to mention the unpleasant dreams you were having.

‘Unpleasant’ & ‘dreams’ were a nice way of putting it.

You could recall that during your first night in the hospital, one of your doctors told you of the possibility of experiencing a few post-traumatic symptoms. Considering how out of it you were at the time, it was unsurprising how you brushed it off.

The reality was much harder to ignore.

...

Cars revving.

Shouting.

Shattering—

Your eyes flashed open, chest heaving and brow covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

Fuck that.

It was the same dream, an obvious recreation of the stimuli of the event. Though it was scattered in your memory, the dreams made it horribly vivid and vibrant despite lacking detail. The sounds and smells of that day clung to you as you shook your head, forcing yourself into wakefulness.

Your comforter was thrown from your body, and you shivered as cold air rushed over you. As jarred as you were, you still swung your legs off the bed, readjusting your boot and your aching leg, half-heartedly glaring at your crutches.

Your apartment wasn’t terribly set up to get around with your limited mobility, but your difficulty functioning didn’t help your overall mental state. Everything was just harder with the boot on, and you did your best to work with it.

Being locked up in your apartment added to the hellishness of it. You were so used to the stimuli and social environment of the teashop, it felt like a cold water shock when you were confined to your home entirely alone except for your cats.

You could, of course, try and venture out into the world. But, it was still winter and the ice-covered sidewalks didn’t seem like the best place to try and crutch around.

Within the first day or two, you resigned yourself to your three-week fate of being holed up.

You had a laundry list of things you could do. Shows and movies to watch, places in your house to clean, your cats to pet, but—

You still had far too much time on your hands.

A lot of your newfound time in the first few days was spent on your back, leg propped up, and draped in ice bags, musing over Hawks.

Hawks.

Holy fuck.

You couldn’t avoid it, couldn’t stop it. Just thinking about him made every part of you swirl and thrum like you were listening to some sort of contently-chorded song and you were more than happy to play it on repeat until your ears bled. Maybe that feeling towards Hawks had always been there (it had), but now you accepted it and stopped holding yourself back as much.

You never thought the idea of someone squeezing your shoulder would send you into literal fits of giggles and butterflies, but boy, did it. Not to mention all of the careful touches and gentle words you two had shared in the aftermath of the attack, though the memories were hazy. What you did remember and cherish was the warmth of him, quirk activated or not. Each time you recalled it, your gut fluttered and your hands twitched.

Your ceiling was the most interesting place to look in your apartment. The plain texture was the perfect canvas to allow your memories of the sweet interactions the two of you had shared to play like comforting reruns. The commercial breaks of these daydreams were the texts exchanged between you and Hawks.

Keigo couldn’t stop thinking about you either.

It wasn’t as distracting as it once was, as he had been more liberal with letting himself text you. The high number of messages between the two of you was maybe ridiculous, but he was a fast texter and you seemed to have plenty of jokes and banter for him to share in.

As good as the texting was, it was also nice to check-in on you and your recovery. You seemed more annoyed than anything else, but Keigo wasn’t so much of an idiot as to think you weren’t in any pain or struggling at all. Though you didn’t explicitly tell him or show him, he was familiar with the pains of healing and could infer some things about your state.

Keigo tried to brighten your day as he could. ‘Hawks’ still had plenty of hero work to do, especially with the information extracted from the recently detained syndicate members. Despite this, he took as much time as he could to stop and send you little snippets and messages which hopefully would help you smile a little.

It did, of course. Just talking to Hawks did.

You had moments of awareness a few times a day where you had to remind yourself that, yes, (Y/N), you were just casual friends and deeply enamored with the number two hero and that sentiment was at least partially returned.

You had a lot of time to wonder to what extent the feelings were returned. They obviously weren’t entirely one-sided, right?

It was completely possible that they were, but you did your best to shake off the thought.

It was more likely that notorious bachelor and flirt, pro hero Hawks, just wanted a fuck with some feelings. To fuck with some feelings, right?

Though, he did say that he cares about you.

But, you definitely can care about someone you only want to fuck.

You wished you had some sort of definitive answer. The murkiness of it all just made the sweetness of the past and the texts of the present seem a bit sour.

Confessing to Hawks was daunting and terrifying. Not to mention, it felt a bit juvenile, all of it. People weren’t supposed to get melty crushes like this past high school, right? Especially not ones this deep on someone who couldn’t possibly feel the same as you, right?

During one of these moments of uncomfortable clarity, your phone beeped as you rested on the couch. Despite not even seeing the message, you knew it would be Hawks.

You grabbed your phone, clicking open the newest message.

[birdboy]: hey hey angel

[birdboy]: look at this fucker i found

The image attached was a photo of Hawks standing next to one of his own billboards, advertising some sort of sports drink. The photo had obviously been taken with a timer, the angle of the photo tilted as Hawks and the billboard were quite small in the frame. It added to the charm of the photo, the way Hawks was holding a feather blade to the throat of his own advert. You could even tell through the pixels he was wearing a wide smile as he did so, wings spread behind him

You snorted.

You and Hawks are just friends, you reminded yourself.

[you]: looks like a punk bitch 2 me dude

[you]: kinda uncanny resemblance tho

[birdboy]: i agree

[birdboy]: he’s hot tho

You rolled your eyes, still smiling as you readjusted on the couch. You weren’t disagreeing, not at all.

[you]: not wrong

[you]: still, punk bitch

[birdboy]: :^(

[birdboy]: feelings = hurt

[birdboy]: please tell me the photo is funny

[birdboy]: it took like five tries

[you]: very funny, im gonna save it and sell when im short on cash

[birdboy]: my publicist will blacklist u

[you]: i’d like to see them try

[birdboy]: is that a challenge angel????

[you]: a promise

There was a break in the messages, though Hawks appeared to be typing.

[birdboy]: unrelated but

[birdboy]: how are you doing?

You paused, taking stock of your disheveled, sleepy self. You were only a few days out of the hospital and you definitely could’ve been worse off.

[you]: im okay!!!

[you]: sore and tired honestly

[birdboy]: :^(

[birdboy]: i'm glad to hear its not worse at least

[birdboy]: ill send u lots more embarrassing photos

[birdboy]: a million angel

[you]: my hero <3

It all was surreal and mentally impossible to avoid.

You really, really liked Hawks and had for a long while.

...

Keigo spent most of the rest of the day busy with patrols and work for the Commission, much to his chagrin. He hardly got a chance to text you. It reminded him of his reality as a pro, his fast-paced nature and how he truly couldn’t slow down, not at that point anyway. He had a brand and habitual way of being that was standard. Even for you, he wasn’t sure if he could slow down, even if he wanted to or needed to.

The idea scared him, pieces of his reality.

But, at the same time, Keigo hadn’t ever felt like this before. The weird, but incredibly alluring and comfortable heat in his chest made him feel like he’d do anything for you. Fuck, he’d fly to the stars and move them if he could, if that’s what it took.

Maybe he even wanted to.

Keigo couldn’t become a different person, for anyone, that’s not how things worked. But if getting closer to you meant... adjusting, he could do that. Easily. He was adaptable as all hell and he’d be glad to use it for something that made him feel good instead of hollow.

Keigo busily flew the day away. As the afternoon turned to night, the sky going pink and purple with dusk, he settled on top of a taller office building. It looked down on a street market, its smells and sounds wafting up to him on his perch.

It gave him an idea.

A good one.

You were inspecting your fridge with a grimace. Balancing on your crutches and being counter-weighed by the boot on your foot made your angry stance a whole lot less intimidating, but it was the sentiment that counted.

Several days post-hospital had done a number on your food supply. The fridge was empty except for a few nearly expired items and condiments. The dry shelves weren’t looking much better.

The shrill sound of your ringtone from the couch made your jump, nearly falling. You teetered back over to it, eye-widening at the caller ID.

[birdboy] calling...

Hawks had never called you before.

You quickly picked up the call, “...Hello?”

“Hey, angel!” Hawks was chipper on the other line. “What’re you up to?”

“Currently?” You hummed, turning forlornly to your kitchen. “Thinking about how I either need to order groceries or order dinner before committing to my couch for the rest of the night. Why? You don’t usually call.”

“I don’t,” Hawks’s smile was apparent in his voice, even through the receiver. “But, I had an idea.”

“Shoot.”

“I might just be near a super good takeout spot. How hard would it be for me to convince you to let me drop some food by your place? My treat.”

You didn’t reply for a second.

Stunned.

“Are you sure?”

“More than, dove. I’m off the rest of the night, anyways.”

Oh.

That gave you an idea—

An idea that would surely push the envelope of your feelings.

Let it.

“Okay, I’m in. One condition.” You bit your lip, willing your stomach to seize fluttering.

“You name it. This place is really good and—”

“I have been going a little stir crazy, and,” You cut him off, squeezing your eyes shut in anticipation, “how hard would it be to convince you to come over and stay awhile?”

Hawks was silent.

Your stomach dropped.

“Wait, I-I mean—” You stuttered, trying to gather yourself, but this time Hawks cut you off.

“Like, to hang out?” Hawks sounded shocked on the other line.

“Yes.”

You kept your breathing even and prayed it didn’t read over the call.

“God, dove. I’d love to. I can be over in like ten—”

“Wait,” You fisted the fabric of your sweats. “Can I have a little more time? For myself and my apartment.”

Hawks chuckled on the other end of the line, “Sure, angel. Thirty sound better?”

You let out a sigh of relief, falling on to the back of your couch, “Sounds perfect.”

Keigo decided to tease a bit, his heart pounding in his chest almost painfully. He knew from day one that you were bold, but this was a treat. He had to spare back, just a little.

“Though, dove, I’m sure you look more than perfect yourself. You always do.” He didn’t wait for your response, either out of fear of what you’d say or being a bit smug, he wasn’t sure.

Keigo hung up the call, burying his face in his gloves to try and stifle the blush on his cheeks, though it hardly helped.

It didn’t have to.

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

Thirty minutes later and you were mostly sorted.

You managed to throw yourself into the shower, tossing on something half-way decent, but still comfortable. Had to keep it casual.

Crutching around your apartment, you picked up what clutter you could, mind spinning. Hawks coming over to your fucking apartment filled you with elated, and yet terrifying, anxiety. A few times while cleaning, you legitimately paused to muffle quiet screams in your hand at the prospect.

You felt like you were going to burst.

Keigo did too, notably.

He took the time to fly all the way back to his apartment, take the world’s fastest shower, and throw on some clothes other than his costume. Going back to get food, his hands shook as he handed the bills to the starry-eyed vendor who he’d just written an autograph for.

You’d sent a quick text just before he’d left with a description of your balcony, so neither of you would have to figure out how to let him in through the roof.

As he flew to your place, Keigo felt like he was going to implode.

He didn’t ‘hang out’ with people. Nope, far too busy for anything like that. He was a compulsory workaholic, it was part of his mental brand of being (or, mental ‘branding’, maybe). The closest he got to casual time with folks was the preamble before a hookup or the time he had spent at the tea shop with you. Actually going to spend time with someone, casually, and it was you? It was all new and terrifying.

But, above all? Exciting.

The whole situation opened many doors, all of which Keigo pictured and picked apart as he neared your apartment. There were so many potential situations to appraise and plan for, he felt overwhelmed by it all.

The opportunity to spend some... time with you outside of the tea shop was a necessity, right? Keigo’s original idea had been to drop off some food and banter for a while, but the idea of spending one of his precious nights off with you was so much better than he could’ve expected.

Not to mention the warm bit of validation sparked by the fact that you asked him to come over, you wanted him around —

It felt nice.

So nice.

You paused, hearing telltale scuffing of someone on your balcony.

Oh my god.

He’s here.

Hawks is here.

You gulped, shaking your head.

Don’t you dare chicken out now. Commit, dammit. You’re just... hanging out. With your friend.

Yeah.

A knock on the glass pulled you to the door of your balcony, hobbling to slide it open on your crutches.

Hawks was happy to push the door the rest of the way open, stepping inside with a bag of takeout slung on his arm.

Your mouth parched, seeing him once again in civilian clothing. Was it... normal to get turned on by the fact that he looked normal?

As Hawks stepped into your humble apartment, wings tucked tightly to his back, you drank him in, hair ruffled with his clear visor placed on top of his head to push back the windswept front pieces. He wore a white sweater and black trousers complete with heavy black boots that were quickly untied and left by the door.

“You’re staring, you know,” Hawks interrupted your thoughts as you straightened up on your crutches.

Recover.

“Can’t prove that,” You tutted, crutching away from the door. “Also, welcome. Watch out for my cats, they might try to get a mouthful of your feathers.”

“Duly noted,” Hawks clicked his tongue, standing up and following you as you meander to the kitchen.

Keigo had to admit that your apartment was relatively... cute. He was used to his own, seldom-used digs. He had a big, uncomfortably nice penthouse with too many disused rooms and too much open space. Fixtures and furniture that were too expensive, probably, but it had been far easier to hire some big-name interior designer and not bother with dealing with it himself. Keigo had trouble keeping many ‘personal’ possessions, anyways. His training with the Commission made him almost revile the thought of keeping unnecessary, material objects, sans a few.

Your home was the exact opposite.

Maybe it was that he didn’t know how to have a personal touch that it made your cozy little apartment feel so full of them.

Little photos and artworks on walls or in frames caught Keigo’s eyes as he followed you to the kitchen. He took note of several blankets on the couch, catching sight of the plushie he’d given you at the hospital. Even the lighting of the apartment was personal, diffuse. With how easily overstimulated you became, it made sense that you’d keep your apartment so ambiently dim.

“So, first off, thank you for coming by and delivering dinner. I am eternally grateful,” You bowed dramatically, leaning to flail out a crutch at the motion. “Second, as payment, I’ll make you a drink. Maybe not with my quirk, but I have some of my old tea blends here.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Keigo shrugged, setting the takeout down on the counter while his ever-present grin nearly hurt his face from how relentless it was. “And tea? Show me what you’ve got. Or, should I trust you to pick one out for me?”

You hummed, clicking your tongue before moving across the kitchen to a different set of cabinets, “I think I’ve actually got a good one for you. It’s one of my favorites.”

“Lay on the details, angel,” Keigo hummed, leaning against the lip of the counter.

You did have the perfect blend in mind. It wasn’t too old, hardly stale. It would pair as well as a nice tea could with fried takeout, judging by the smells wafting from the bag on the counter.

“It’s one I made for a brunch we catered a few months back. It’s just a white tea raspberry blend, but it’s not delicate. It should stand up to any sort of food you’ve brought. Thank you, by the way.”

Setting your crutches down, you started to push yourself up onto the counter without thinking much of it, booted-foot going limp off the edge.

“Of course, anytime— woah, angel,” His voice choked as you wavered on the edge of the counter, off-balance.

There was a short flap of wings and rush of air as you tried to rebalance, cursing the deadweight of your leg.

If Hawks hadn’t been directly behind you, you probably would’ve eaten shit.

You turned yourself as far as you could, cheeks going hot.

Hawks’ face was just inches away from yours. That was even to mention the hands hovering around your waist, chest brushing up against your back.

“S-sorry,” Did he just fucking stutter? “You looked like you were about to eat shit there.”

The words hardly reach you, you were too busy actively telling yourself not to stare at his pretty, plump lips because that is not something friends do. Not the can of worms you needed to open, right?

“I-,” You turned away from him, stretching up to the tea tin that had been out of your reach. “To think you’ve saved me from falling while reaching for loose leaf tea, twice.”

“All in a day's work,” His hands twitched around your sides but hardly shifted until you began to descend from the countertop. In fact, Hawks hardly moved away at all until you were situated back on your crutches.

You pretended not to notice the flush on his cheeks.

Maybe, it was a bit too close. Definitely too close, and bad circumstances, but god, you wanted more and more of him.

You swallowed your desires down, cracking a smile.

Be normal.

Be cool!

You shook the tin, leaves and dried fruit rattling inside, “So, cream or sugar?”

||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

The two of you ended up on the couch, picking through the several boxes of takeout that Hawks had brought. Most of dinner was spent bantering back and forth about one of Hawks’ newest modeling contracts and if it was ‘ethical’ for him to wear his own feathers for the sake of ‘fashion’?

“So, off-topic from insulting my employment ethics, ” Hawks spoke while munching on a piece of chicken. “You surviving?”

“Barely,” You laughed, setting down your utensils with a huff. “I forget how isolation makes you go a little crazy. I’m running out of dumb shit to watch and even dumber shit to send you.”

Hawks snorted, setting down his own box, having had his fill, “I know you are more than adept at combing the internet for more good shit to send me.”

“I mean, maybe, but you keep sending me juicy photos of you being a dumbass. They’re hard to show up, you know?” You side-eyed him at the birdish tilt of his head.

“You don’t need to show me up, angel,” Hawks reminded you, some feathers packing up what was left of the food. “Though, it’s fun. You’re fun.”

You internally winced at the sentiment but forced the smile on your face not to waver.

It was a needed reminder.

This close to Hawks, you could fucking smell him. Maybe it was a little creepy, but you remembered it so well, after the villain attack. The scent of some sort of spicy cologne and old sweat, but it was hardly unpleasant. No, it was intoxicating. It made you feel almost fuzzy, as it wafted around like some reminder that Hawks and you were so close.

You thanked the stars that the apartment lacked the stimuli to make your quirk activate on its own.

Your couch wasn’t very large, and it seemed even smaller with how Hawks had laid his wings over it. They were propped up over the back, outstretched just the smallest bit to relieve some pressure. All the same, the massive feathers made you feel minuscule.

Even the way he was sitting was intoxicating and a bit gut-wrenching. It was casual, the way he leaned back against the far cushions, legs somewhat spread with an ankle over the opposite knee. The pose oozed a weird, untouchable confidence that you hadn’t seen in Hawks in months, maybe ever. At least, not directed at you.

Despite the warm nature of his words, he seemed guarded.

It made your throat dry.

Keigo was quite on edge. He hadn’t meant to get so close in the kitchen, really, he hadn’t. But, seeing you dangling off the edge of the counter like that, even if it was harmless and mundane, made his entire body and mind react before he could think.

But, you weren’t in any danger. Even if you had been, Keigo would’ve been there to catch you.

He’d put himself out of it, overthinking the whole thing. You were fine. Safe.

The other part of his mind spun with how he wanted to be so much closer.

Feeling the warmth of your body, the lines of your waist, the thrum of your heart and breath so fucking close—

It was a lot.

But, he was well-trained and not going to choke.

He’d shoved himself to the opposite side of the couch to you, keeping his boundaries up, strong as steel and hard as carbon.

Of course, Keigo knew the feelings were mutual. That didn’t mean that none of this was terrifying in the same way that it was exhilarating.

As much as he wanted to be closer (so much closer), Keigo remained careful. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was ruin something before it had even truly happened.

You sat back against the couch, repositioning your injured leg on the coffee table, “So, thoughts.”

“On?”

You didn’t look at Keigo as you replied, rather glared at your TV, “What to watch?”

“Oh,” You could hear the smile in his voice. “We’re watching something?”

“You tell me. I imagine you don’t get lots of time to do this sort of thing, do you?”

Hawks didn’t reply for a moment, sitting deeper into the couch, “Not really.”

“Then indulge, tailfeathers,” You tossed the remote in his lap. “Anything, go for it. Go nuts.”

Hawks nearly put on watching a reality cooking show, before you said that that was off-limits, per an odd conversation from way back when where he had admitted to be hot for Gordon Ramsey. He had been a little too vague as to whether or not he would pop a boner from Gordon’s filmed degradations. And truthfully, if anything was gonna give Hawks a hard-on tonight, you were determined for it not to be competitive cooking TV. Maybe, just maybe, you’d rather it be you.

...

Eventually, he settled on some psychological thriller you’d never heard of.

Keigo hadn’t either.

He was glad that you couldn’t hear his heart in the same way he heard your’s pounding.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched you crutch around, turning the already dim lights lower.

Calm the down, Hawks.

Calm the fuck down.

He’d never even done this before. Keigo wasn’t sure how to handle the situation, even if it was as simple as watching a film.

It would’ve been simpler if the tension in the air was thick and foggy, clouding over his consciousness as he tried to focus on anything other than your nearness and how much he wanted to drag you into his lap.

…

His feathers fluttered as you plopped back onto the couch, pulling a blanket over your lap and offering one to him.

He took it, settling it over his lap as the movie went on.

You weren’t an idiot. You could feel the blood rushing in your hot ears as you fisted the blanket over your legs.

Your mind spoke a lot louder than you wanted it to:

Just fucking do it.

Do what exactly?

The paramount thought that was causing anxiety to twirl in your gut.

Maybe, you could just tell him how you felt.

Maybe just hold his hand.

Maybe get fucking rejected because he’s out of your league and out of bounds.

Maybe even kiss him—

You were torturing yourself, the movie just background noise to your internal dilemma.

You’d asked him to your apartment and Hawks had bought you fucking dinner. That wasn’t a lot, sure, maybe, but there were also the months of lead-up.

There were all of the cold mornings and cheeky grins you gave each other in the waking coffee shop. There were the fuzzy jokes, the lingering glances, and the tight feeling you got in your chest whenever he graced you with mere eye contact.

It felt like you were already in too deep to not be honest about how you felt towards him. Fuck, you’d been in too deep for months. Every time you made him a damn drink, you wanted to just drink him in. You were all fluttering hearts and sweet smiles for him in a way that you couldn’t suppress, only squash in moments of such intense anxiety like this—

“Hey, dove?” It was Hawks, shocking you from your turmoil with a soft voice. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah, I’m good.” Your reply was curt and clipped.

Make a decision now.

Pull the bandage off, (Y/N).

It’ll just be worse, the longer you wait.

Maybe Hawks did just want to fuck with some cute feelings, the seemingly longing looks be damned. Yeah, you liked him way more than for just a fuck, that was obvious and unavoidable. Besides, it’d be better to know than to not know, right?

“You sure? If the movie’s too much, we can turn it off,” Hawks sounded genuinely concerned from the other side of the couch.

...

You committed, taking a deep breath and turning to Hawks.

“It’s not that,” You looked at the couch between the two of you, tracing the seam of the cushion. “The movie’s fine.”

“Then, you’re not feeling great for another reason?” Keigo asked, feeling each of your breaths and heartbeats like bass drums in his ears. He hides the shaking of his hands by crossing them over his chest. “You can talk to me, (Y/N).”

“Can I?” You asked, shaking your head and laughing at yourself. “Hawks, I need to do something really fucking stupid.”

Holy fuck.

Are they—

“What’s that?”

His voice was smaller than he wanted it to be.

“Fuck, Hawks,” You finally forced yourself to look at him, taking in his guarded posture and pained expression.

Your heart sank.

“I just need to be honest with you.”

Hawks’s brow soured, lips twitching, “Go for it, dove.”

You laughed, maybe trying to soothe yourself, “It’s probably is just, so fucking stupid, all things considered.”

You ran a hand through your hair, biting your lip between sentences and willing yourself to just get it out—

“Hawks, I like you. A lot.”

He still didn’t say anything and you could feel shards of your heart drive into your lungs.

You forced yourself to look up at him, smiling with the slight release of tension in your sternum, however painful.

“I know, we’re just friends, right? I’m just the barista and you’re my special, pro hero regular. I know I’m overstepping right now, but it feels unfair for me to not be honest with you.”

Keigo already knew this, right? He knew how you felt, fuck, he’d felt how you felt. He just wasn’t prepared for the exploding and thrumming in his chest when you told him with your sweet lips and kind words.

Why did it feel so different when you were smiling at him like you were in pain and telling him so fucking honestly with your words?

It was the thing about you that he admired the most, that candor in your tone and the grin in your cheeks as you spoke so.

But, your smile was falling, leaving watery-looking eyes.

“Hawks, I like you. Way too much for friends, and I needed to say something.”

Keigo’s mouth was dry.

For the first time in so fucking long, he was genuinely speechless.

He couldn’t recall a time in his life anyone had spoken so earnestly to him, just you. Just you, you, you— casually, over and over again, you talked to him like he was something real and something to be cared for. It was subtle, but it was one of the many things that made him want you closer.

Yet, despite all his bundled up desires, he was lost for words.

“I’m sorry—”

He stopped you, “(Y/N), please don’t apologize.”

“But—”

“(Y/N).”

Hawks’ voice was sharp. It made the expression on your face rapidly fall.

He looked at you with rapt attention, arms uncrossing from his chest.

He turned to you on the couch, feathers fluffed up and twitching.

Your nose stung as Hawks, all pretty golds and ambers, shook out an exhale and balled up the blanket in his lap.

“Hawks—”

“Why would you need to be sorry?”

Hawks looked at you with wide eyes, brow creased. His shoulders were... shaking?

Your head spun, leg aching, “... What do you mean?”

Hawks finally met your gaze, giving you the sweetest, saddest smile you’d ever seen, “Dove, you’re acting like there’s no way I could feel the same way.”

Every cell in your body stuttered.

“You’ve done it since we’ve met.”

Hawks scooted closer on the cushions of the couch.

“You’ve always acted like there’s just no way I could like you, give a shit about you—”

He moved a bit closer.

You couldn’t make yourself move.

“You want to know the truth?”

You creaked out a nod.

Keigo couldn’t help the way he went to cup your cheeks in his hands, thumbs rubbing along the apples of your cheeks. You lean into his touch, just like at the hospital, despite the blend of absolute fear and confusion in your expression.

“How could I not care about you, dove?” And it finally came out. “I care about so much— dove, I don’t know what to fucking say.”

That made you speechless, lips parting just the slightest bit as Hawks continued, losing composure with his morphing expressions.

He wet his lips, swallowing, “Dove, I’ve never—any of this. I-I don’t know what o-or how to say any of what I want to right now.”

You speak before thinking.

“Show me, if you don’t know how to say it.”

The idea seemed so novel as Keigo ran a thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it from between your teeth. He met your gaze with the gooiest, sweetest look you’d ever seen in your life, “You want me to?”

“Please.”

It was all the two of you had wanted for a while now, right?

“If I kiss you, I’m not ever gonna be able to make this go away, am I?” Keigo was speaking to himself, just above his breath. But, you were more than close enough to hear him.

“Hey, Hawks? I don’t know if we can make ‘this’ try to go away.” You grabbed one of the hands cupping your face, pulling it away, only to shakily press in your lips to the bones on the back of it. “I don’t want to anymore.”

“Y-you gotta stop being so sweet, (Y/N)—”

Neither of you could wait a moment longer.

Your arms wrapped around Keigo’s shoulder. In the same motions, he pulled you closer by your waist, dragging you finally closer to him.

He held your jaw like you were the most precious thing in the world. Because, truthfully, you were to him. The sentiment was shared Deeply.

Your lips pressed together and the long-held tensions in your chests mutually shattered, dissolving in the honeyed touch of each other’s genuine attention.

You angled your head perfectly, Keigo’s hand guiding you as his mouth worked against yours. It wasn’t a particularly steamy sort of affair, but by god, it wasn’t in any way chaste. Not with the tight grip and thumbing on your ribs. Not with the way your hands tangled in the soft (holy fuck, soft) hair at the base of Keigo’s skull.

You both tasted each other's sweetness, craving more of it after denying yourselves of it for so long. It was white-hot, exploding behind your eyes, even as your quirk remained dormant. Keigo was honey and cream and smoked spices all dancing across your palette.

To Keigo? You were sweet, cool water over a hot burn. You were the heat of a hearth rolling over him on the coldest of days. He swears that in the first moments he finally got to be close to you, and over and over again— he finally understood how your quirk worked.

There was no way that finally feeling you, feeling you as he felt you, could be described with just five senses.

You pulled away first, gasping for breath and arching your back into him. You lingered as close as you could, pressing your forehead to Keigo’s while your breaths mingled. You didn’t dare stray far.

“Was that enough to show you?” Keigo asked, breathless. He kept a wide hand against your back, urging you with a bit of soft pressure to put your weight into it. You complied, settling in his hold as Keigo stroked at your hot cheeks.

You nodded, beaming up at him with that sunny smile of yours. It never failed to make heat burn through Keigo and god, did it feel good to finally let it unabashed.

“I take it, you like me too, huh,” You smiled, looking a bit embarrassed.

“Very much, very much,” Keigo repeated, pressing a kiss to your nose (he’d always wanted to do that). “So much, (Y/N). I apologize for not saying anything sooner. This is just...”

“New to you, right?” You finished his sentence, thumbing along the back of his neck in a way that made Keigo just melt. “It’s been a while for me too, if it makes you feel better.”

“It does, dove. Thank you.” Keigo let out a deep breath, shaking his head against yours. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.”

“It’s alright, same goes for me,” As much as you needed to adjust due to the angle of your recovering leg, you couldn’t make yourself do it. You were so wonderfully close to Hawks, you never wanted to move.

“If we’re being honest, then I need to be honest with you,” Hawks met your eyes, his expression going a little dimmer.

You braced for the worst.

He picked up your shift easily, finally able to express how quickly he caught your mood after so long of being attuned to it.

“Oh wait, no, (Y/N), nothing terrible, I promise,” Hawks rubbed at your sides. “It’s about the miel.”

“The... miel?” You cocked your head to the side, confused, recalling the drink somewhat hazily. “The drink I made you on the day of... the attack?”

Hawks gave you a tense smile, “That one, yeah. Remember how you said it was just based on your ambient feelings?”

“Uh-huh.” You let confusion lace your tone until it slowly started to dawn on you.

“You made the drink, ambiently, around me—”

Your eyes widened, mouth falling open, “Oh my god, Hawks, did my feelings for you get in the drink?”

Hawks graced you with a sweet, sympathetic smile, fingers tucking at the hair around your ear, “They did, dove. I’ve kind of known for a few days, it just hasn’t been the time or setting to say something. I apologize.”

“N-no, it’s okay, I totally understand,” You sighed into his grip. “I really thought it might be something worse.”

“Consider your worries assuaged,” Hawks hummed, eyes drifting to your boot. He deadpanned suddenly. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad does your leg hurt right now?”

Fairly bad, considering. You were half on your knees, the booted leg twisted awkwardly while still raised to the coffee table. This wasn’t even to mention the arch of your back so you could be all that closer to Hawks.

The pain of the position was easy to forget; you were still shaking from kissing Hawks just once.

“Uh, maybe like a seven, once I can feel anything other than how good you felt just now,” you hummed, grinning up at Hawks as his face went bright red.

The infinite pleasure you received, making him blush so sweetly.

He shook it off, squeezing your sides, “Cute. Very cute. Mutually returned sentiment, but let’s adjust.”

You nodded but didn’t have much time to react as a bundle of Hawks’s feathers lifted you every which way, albeit incredibly gently. All said and done, he was fully upright against the back of the couch. With the support of a feather or two, Hawks’s arms tugged you into his lap. Your legs stretched to the side, the booted one immediately propped up by a feather-supplied pillow.

You both settled yourselves, blushing and leaning on each other now that you finally were allowing yourself to.

Keigo fully wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tight against him. One of his wings even shifted to drape over one his shoulder, sheltering the two of you in a canopy of a crimson. Keigo let his hands wander over your hips, not seeking anything more than blessed attention and heat. You gave it all to him, tucking your face into his collarbone, drowning in the scent that made you feel at home.

Keigo pressed his lips to your crown and legitimately shuddering.

He spoke to himself, so faintly and quietly, you hardly caught it, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

There was melancholy in his voice, but you were quick to strip it away.

You brushed your lips along his jaw, savoring the way he held you tighter, “I have too. Can we do this more?”

“Anytime, dove. Anytime.”

“Right now sound good?”

You withdrew to beam up at him as you were so good at doing, only to be smothered by craving-satiating kisses anywhere Keigo could get to. The sweet, high laughter that he dripped onto you made your heart burst all over again.

And you finally, finally fell into the other sweetly, warmly, and properly.

||||||||||||||||||

taglist: @thepandapopo @hawksexual @sinclairsamess @darcia22 @inhalingsoysauce @yee-fxcking-haw

#salem writes #lavender latte #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #hawks x you #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo x you #takami keigo x y/n #mha reader insert #hawks reader insert #hawks #takami keigo #hawks mha #hawks bnha #im soft for this one yall #so soft

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bioodorange · 4 years

Text

||How I See The Pastas||

This was originally supposed to be how they looked but I decided to go for mental aspect and explain why as well PLEASE like, reblog and share your thoughts on this in the comments or inbox

Below the desciptions are images i’ve compiled and some art (if you know the creator please tell me so i can credit them) for a visual

dont forget to like reblog and share your thoughts with me, I spent a few days on this so i’d appreciate this

Jeff the Killer

So lets start with the obvious- jeffs pasty white toothpaste lookin skin

But realistically he wouldn’t be completely covered in scars

It would be blotchy, with pink fleshy patches among the burns

He most likely has contracture scars, third degree burns that turn the skin a pale white and tighten the skin

This explains his gaunt features and skin color

Now we have to take into account the vodka that was splashed on him, he’d probably have worse burns there with exposed flesh and damaged nerves

This would result in gnarly exposed skin, a damaged scalp and maybe damage to his teeth and eyes

Realistically, Jeff wouldnt have burned off his eyelids that alone would have resulted in blindness and death

Than his smile, his signatuure mark would probably be more of a gangly bloody scar mess

Pastas heal faster and aren’t really human, he’d have to recut his smile pretty frequently making it pretty jacket up because ltes be honest hes far from clean

ANd than his hait being chard black is very unlikely because as nasty as he is he s h o w e r s

not very frequnetly given his living situation and untreated burns but people can figure out how to wash hait and not much else

also i think its funny he’d shower with a plastic bag on his face to avoid getting soap in his nasty infected scars-

His hair would probably be dry and cut unevenly, more of a dark brown color with blonde undertones

Not to mention his burned scalp, hair probably wouldn’t grow there so he’d have a cool unintentional side shave

Jeff would also be a tall individual, he cant really eat, snacking on things from his victims homes giving him a more skeletal build

His personality and mindest is about as pretty as his face- but he most likely has a very screwed up headspace

Lacking in self care, maturity and sanity its fair to say he’d be a brash and violent person

Fun Fact: While researching this I learned that some versions of the joker had facial scars in the shape of a smile

Ticci Toby

So tobys age, unlike a lot of pastas, is pretty well agreed on, 19

So unlike when he was first a proxy toby most likely has stronger facial features and facial hair

Because shaving and hygiene isn’t first priority for pastas (gross-)

He stands around 5′7 and has grayish skin

Toby i feel is picky about foods, not only is it hard for him to eat its hard for him to keep food down

He’s malnourished explaining his thin figure and grayish skin

His hait is dark brown and a curlish mess, unkempt but short so it doesn’t get in his way

I’ve always seen him with a small gap in his teeth, because I can

And since toby can’t feel shit I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to eat rocks simply because he fuckin could

So some chipped teeth that are a bit uneven

Along with his CIPA and not eating enough Toby would bruise easily and have lots of scars, from things like cutting his finger on accident or getting mauled by a racoon

I wouldn’t be surpised if some of his joints were a bit screwed up, because whenever theyd beak or fracture he wouldn’t notice, this would probably happen a lot causing them to not heal correctly

One of tobys habits is nailbiting but he cant te;; when too far is too far

His fingers may be abit odd looking, knobby and discolored nails because of how exetreme his habit is

Would most likely have bandages around his fingers frequently to prevent the habit

So theres a lot of debate about tobys cheek was it the CIPA or the car accident, I beileve the accident because his other cheek is completely fine, theres damage from the OUTSIDE to inside and considering his sister died in the accident its unlikely he survived unscathed

Fun Fact: only a small handful of people have ever been diagnosed with CIPA, less than 500 (documented) cases around the world

Bloody Painter

So Helen is often seen as quiet emo painter boy

but uh no <3

Personaly i beileve he suffers from narcisistic personality disorder, exetreme importance and that he is always victorious and gets what he wants

This sporuts from the constant heavy invalidation from classmates, toxic friends and neglect from his parents

He doesn’t hang out with people because he doesn’’t lie them its because they never let him in the past and he beileves he’s better than them

But this also links to deep rooted insecurity and social anxiety/being inept completely

Him being nice is basically so you like him, he wants validation amd admiration not love

Unlike the other pastas he’d be a more clean well kept one a helthy figure and some tattoos bevause he can

I beileve he lives in socity, finding hus victims in girls and men alike who fall for his charm

he uses hhis skill and ordinary appearance to blend in on the streets

From his behavior helen most likely keeps his hair a bit shorter and clean

He always looks his best

Has chapped, and picked at lips because of his anxieties

Aswell as his breakdowns- his identity is completely in his head, he is very unsure of who he is and takes the delusions in his mind as reality

Unrelated but paino fingers-

And finally in order for his art to be as perfect and amazing as him, he has to be apart of it

Thus using his own blood in his pieces and the body parts of those he admires

Covers his scars with clean bandgaes

But his paintings turn brown and dry out, he’s always in need of a new medium

Is most likely anemic from all the blood he looses and has a paler skintone

Clockwork

ahh yes finally someone who knows what self care is-

helen, i love you buddy but you need to stop

But anyway natalie has a stronger, athletic build

She often chases her victims and gets in altercations, relying on strength most of the time

on that same note, this would defintelty cause many scars on natalie

Wether it was a bite mark or scars from a kitchen knife, shes got lots of scars

A few even on her face

Now, for the clock in her eye that thing is like holding her skull together at this point, realistically

She is probably delicate and cares for it becaise 1) it hurts 2) if it gets screwed up that could cause a lot of problems

natalie would be a smart person, I wouldn’t be surprused if she had a few other stray stitches or bandgaes wrapped around a fresh wound

For more visual-ish things uh m u l l e t (credit: @cum-looking-sock-mf in a chat like 4 months ago)

She has one, fight me on it

but also thick and curlish hair so I also riase you

Undershave

just y e s

I can also see her getting tattoos over certain scars on her arm, just to make them look not so ugly

I feel like clockwork wishes things worked out better

Wishes for another chance but knows she’ll never get one

Thus her taking goof care of herself

Natalie throws herseld into her “work”, keeping her body in shape and killing people

Its a way to avoid her life and that it is- a huge, sad mess

Shes an outgoing impulsive individual, confident but questions her actions

She’s also unstable- protective and loyal but explosive and strong

Jane the Killer

Jane is the final one, im sorry I couldn’t do more theres a photo limit and I wanna bash my head into the wall

Now a main different between her and jeff is she had surgery and lie treatment

Janes skin is still greatly scarred but it is greatly healed

She takes care of it and had skin grafts

Her face is disfigured, a scarred smile and burns around

But unlike Jeff she doesn’t recarve the cut so its a cleaner line and a lot healthier

Janes hair took a rather long time to grow back, but it did!

She has a slightly long pixie cut a bit choppy but she doesn’t mind

Her wife definetely cuts it for her and you can fight me over that

I can see Jane having a lot of facial trauma, scars around her nose and cheeks

She was young when she started killing and went for the over the person, pin them down kill which didn’t work out

She switched to a silenced pistol after awhile, you know like a smart person

Janes arms and legs are in alright condition where most of the burn trauma is on her back

She has a leaner but healthy figure but like boobs-

Like clockwork and Helen she takes care of herself

She doesn’t kill as frequently, going after a few of jeffs victims before him and is of course, actively hunting him down

Her eyes are a pale green and she wears makeip to fill in her eyebrows because those bitches take a long time to grow back

fun fact: jeff has no eyebrows, fight me

#jeff the Killer #creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #slenderverse #slenderverse headcanons #jeff the killer head canons #ticci toby headcanons #ticci toby #bloodypainter #bloodypainter headcanons #clockwork headcanons #clockwork #jane the everlasting head canons #jane the everlasting #jane the killer #jane the killer headcanons

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asian-hero · 4 years

Text

[Im]perfectly You

A/N: Got an idea while watching something completely unrelated to bnha, so that was fun (I’m also sorry if this turns out to be absolute garbage)

I also like to imagine that this is the same Shouto and (Y/N) from “The Words I Desperately Want To Say,” so do with that what you will

Summary: While to the general public, Pro Hero Shouto was a symbol of otherworldly beauty and perfection, the man himself found it hard to understand how anyone could think he was attractive, let alone perfect. So, when doubts start to form in his head, it’s a good thing his partner is there to remind him of all the wonderful things about him

Words: 3,580

Todoroki Shouto, while a fairly smart man, could admit that he had his moments where he was rather dense. If you were to ask him what’s the best plan of action when working a rescue mission, he’d be the absolute best man to ask, as he’d have a level head, and would know every single point of entry where a Pro could go in and rescue the civilians in danger. If you asked him to help you out with some financing issues, while at first he may be a bit confused, he’ll eventually get it and help you plan for ten years into the future.

However, if you asked him why the reporter was asking him about his skin care routine, or how he looks so “effortlessly handsome” while working, he would simply shrug his shoulders and state that they do that for every other person they interview.

Perhaps one of the most shocking traits of Shouto’s is the fact that he doesn’t see himself the way the general public sees him. While most people view him as one of the most attractive heroes, he can’t even stand to look at his reflection for more than a minute, otherwise he’ll find things to criticize, things that make him feel ugly. He’s come to the conclusion, after years of testing, that it’s best for him to simply turn around and face something else if there’s a mirror or any reflective surface around, just so that he doesn’t have to see himself.

Of course, he doesn’t tell anyone about these issues. He hasn’t told his family, his friends, and he certainly won’t tell you. Not because he doesn’t trust any of them, but because he doesn’t want to be a burden to those around him, he doesn’t want his issues to be a source of sorrow, and he certainly doesn’t want pity. So, he simply keeps these bitter, harmful thoughts to himself, not letting anyone in on what’s going on in the back of his mind.

Somehow, though, you manage to break through his facade, the one that he carefully constructed to keep everyone else out, and he’s not sure of how to feel about that.

The first time that Shouto feels a pang in his chest is when the two of you are relaxing on the couch, on a rare day off from your hectic lives. His whole body covers yours, his arms wrapped around your torso while his face is buried in your chest, a small sigh of content escaping his lips. You’re watching some random food documentary the two of you decided to put on, completely entranced by the sights and sounds you’re seeing come to life on the screen. For a while, the two of you sit in complete silence, neither of you wanting to break the peaceful air around you.

With your eyes still glued to the screen, one of your hands seems to move on its own, tangling itself in Shouto’s red and white locks. As your hand begins to brush back the strands away from his face, your fingers soothingly scratching at his scalp, Shouto tenses under your touch. He feels his breath start to catch as he feels your fingers move through his hair, almost as if you were inspecting it. Due to just how much he uses his quirk, his hair ends up feeling coarse and dry, with a few singed parts in the front. Though he tries to remedy that with the many types of shampoos and conditioners the world has to offer, he just can’t prevent the damage his quirk has done.

After the feeling of your hand becomes too much for him, he lifts his head up from your chest, almost too quickly to not be suspicious. When his eyes meet your own confused ones, he doesn’t answer you with words, instead opting to wrap his arm around your waist, lifting you up a bit while he shifted his body to be behind yours, effectively keeping your hands off of his hair.

For a second, you’re oddly still, and it makes Shouto anxious. However, after a few seconds had passed, you let out a small giggle, relaxing your body into his, patting his thigh lightly. “If you wanted to be the big spoon all you had to do was ask,”

Luckily for him, you didn’t question his behavior. Though, for the rest of the night, Shouto couldn’t stop the feeling of anxiety from coursing through his veins. While he eventually found his breath, and he was no longer shaking, he still couldn’t shake off the feeling of dread for the rest of the night.

He hated that he felt this way, for something seemingly so stupid.

The next time that he finds himself moving away from your touch is when the two of you are out shopping for groceries. Since it was after your patrol, you didn’t bother to change out of your hero costume, choosing to throw over your white button up shirt and blue jeans over your suit, figuring that it was good enough. You didn’t even bother buttoning up the shirt, and it took all of Shouto’s self control to not make fun of your outfit, though, he supposed that he couldn’t judge you, as he only threw over his overcoat on top of his own suit.

As the two of you perused through the aisles, buying way too much food for the two of you, you found yourselves in a comfortable conversation. You talked about how patrolling with Yaoyorozu went, and he told you about how Bakugou invited himself to his and Midoriya’s patrol. As the two of you continued to walk, with him holding the basket and you walking beside him, he felt your hand slowly snake its way to his, intertwining your fingers together.

For a while, Shouto didn’t mind the way that your hand fit in his. In fact, he quite enjoyed the way his hand seemed to fold over yours, how small yours felt in his own. However, as soon as you started brushing your thumb over the back of his hand, he could feel just how different your hands were from his. While yours were soft and smooth, his were rough and dry, as if they hadn’t been taken care of. Where as yours didn’t have any bumps or bruises, his had callouses and tiny cuts from the extreme temperatures he held. The way that you stroke his hand soon turned from a soothing action to something that filled Shouto with vile thoughts. In all of his negative thoughts about himself, he never thought that his hands would be the issue.

It finally became too much when you squeezed his hand and he could feel his callouses digging into the palm of your skin. Detangling his hand away from yours, he pointed towards the produce section, doing his best to keep a straight face.

“Look, they have a sale,”

At first, he was sure that you were going to call him out for his actions, as you wore your confusion and slight hurt on your face. However, that was quickly replaced with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes and an excited “let’s go!”

For the rest of the day, you didn’t try to hold his hand again, and Shouto wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.

As the months went on, Shouto had wrongly assumed that his self-esteem issues would sort themselves out, that he’d be back to some semblance of normality. However, they only seemed to get worse, to the point where he couldn’t deal with your eyes being on him for more than a few minutes, otherwise he’d get anxious of what you were thinking. Of course, he still hadn’t told you what was bothering him, not because he was afraid of what you’d think, but for the fact that he knew you’d be upset for him, and he didn’t want to put that on your shoulders.

Sometimes, he wasn’t as bothered by the voices of self-doubt in his head. On those days he’d gladly let you hold his hand, let you shower him in love. Other times, the voices would be too loud, so much so that he would revert back to how he acted before he met everyone from U.A., cold and standoffish, not that he meant to. Whenever those voices got to him, he wouldn’t even let you look at him for too long, instead politely telling you to stop staring. Whether it be that you were close enough to see the dry skin patches on his face, or the fact that you could see just how badly he was scarred, he didn’t want you to look.

Eventually, all of the doubts in his mind started to make cracks in his facade, and soon enough he felt himself breaking down.

Right in front of you.

It was a rare chance that Shouto would get home before you did. Unfortunately for you, you were saddled with a mountain of paperwork that needed to be done quickly, so you told him that you’d be late, and that he shouldn’t wait up for you. So, as Shouto stepped into your shared home, he did what he normally did once he got home: make dinner, eat, take a shower, change into more comfortable clothes, and then head to bed.

Everything was going well at first. He cooked dinner by himself, making sure to make enough for you to eat when you got home. Once he’d finished eating and putting your plate in the fridge, he moved to the bathroom, grabbing a towel from the closet and switching on the fan as he started the shower. Usually, he wouldn’t look in the mirror once he’d undressed, instead opting to look at the wall as he moved to the shower. However, for some reason, on this day, Shouto decided to take a quick glance at the mirror before he headed into the shower.

Truly a big mistake on his part.

As his eyes landed on his reflection, the first thing he noticed were the scars on his skin. Running his hand over the ones on his arms, he cringed at the feeling of the slightly raised skin. As he continued to observe his body, he only felt his mood grow sour, picking on every single flaw that he could see. Running his hands through his coarse hair, he continued to stare at the large scar covering most of the left side of his face. He took in the deep reddish tone that it had, how the skin had puckered and left him with a rough, unpleasant texture. Looking straight into his own eyes, he looked at the two different colors with discontent, wishing that there were a solid color instead of being split. Eyes drifting further down, he looked at the other scars that littered his body, looked at how there wasn’t an inch of unblemished skin. He looked as the colors ranged from an iridescent pinkish color to more angrier reddish tones, ones that could never quite heal, and would always leave him with these ugly marks.

Continuing to analyze every single flaw on him, Shouto didn’t hear the front door open, nor did he hear you call out, announcing your presence. Footsteps drawing closer, he didn’t notice that you were there until he could hear the doorknob click, the door swinging open.

“Sorry for barging in honey, but I’ve been holding my pee in all night so I—“ Eyes stopping on him, you gave him a small smile, “Hey handsome,”

Head whipping over to look at you, his eyes widened ever so slightly. It was normal for either of you to come into the bathroom while the other was using it. The two of you grew comfortable enough to not bother to lock the door since there was only one bathroom. However, Shouto wished that he’d locked the door tonight, as he was fairly certain that he looked like a mess.

While he continued to stare at you with worry, you frowned. Pointing towards the door, you spoke, “I can wait until you’re finished? I don’t have to go that badly,”

At the sound of your voice, he frantically shook his head, moving away from the mirror and into the shower. “No, go on ahead, I was just getting in,”

Before you could say anything Shouto shut himself in the shower. Deciding to not push the subject with a full bladder, you quickly went about your business, washed your hands and promptly left, moving to sit on the bed to wait for your boyfriend.

It took about eight minutes for the shower to turn off, and another five for him to finally exit the bathroom, slowly walking himself into your shared bedroom. Once he caught sight of you sitting on the edge of the bed, not having changed out of your work clothes, he felt his heart rate spike. Cautiously, he moved to sit by you, a small smile resting on his face, though you could tell it was forced. Reaching for his hand, you found yourself hesitating slightly before deciding to put your hand beside his, close enough that your pinkies were touching. Tilting your head, you tried to get a better look at the man.

“Are you alright?”

He blinked, trying to contain his every thought from spilling out at that moment. Nodding, he spoke up, “Of course I am, why—“

“Please don’t lie to me,” You spoke softly, a frown finding its way onto your face, “I’ve known you since high school, don’t think I can’t tell when you’re lying.”

At first, your words were met with complete silence, with Shouto’s eyes trained on your hand. After a few more minutes of silence, just as you were about to give up your little interrogation for the night to go and take a shower, he broke the silence.

“I don’t get it,”

Eyebrows furrowing together, you leaned in closer to the man, as if the elimination of space would help you solve what was going on in his brain. “Don’t get what?”

He bit his lip, clearly going over the pros and cons of telling you what he’s been thinking for most of his life. Finally, he sighed, figuring that it was better to just rip off the bandaid rather than pretending that nothing was wrong.

“You called me handsome earlier,” He started, and when your face only grew more confused he continued, “The media likes to say that too. So why can’t I see myself that way too?”

He mumbled out the last part, as if he didn’t want you to hear it. At first, you stayed silent, unsure of what to say, or how to comfort the man in front of you. However, once you noticed his hands start to fidget, and his knees started to bounce, you moved so that he could see your face, a kind smile resting on your lips.

“Can I touch you?” You asked, not wanting to overstep his boundaries.

When he nodded his head slightly, you gently grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the headboard of the bed before plopping yourself right into his lap. When he looked at you with a blank expression, you smiled sadly, cupping his cheeks in your hands.

“There, that’s better,” You started, gently brushing your thumbs across his face, “Now, let me into that gorgeous head of yours?”

“Why do you call me that?” There was no venom behind his tone, just a confused boy who seemed hurt.

“Because it’s true,” You stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

When he still didn’t react positively, you retracted your hands from his face, opting to wrap them around his torso loosely. “Okay then, how about you list the things you don’t like about yourself, and I’ll tell you about the things that I love about you,”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. Though he still indulged you regardless, even if bringing up all of his flaws worried him to an extreme amount.

“Fine, I hate my hair,” He started, his hands roughly pushing his bangs back, “I hate the way it looks and how it feels,”

“Well, I love your hair,” You countered, your own hands moving to gently pry his away from the red and white locks you love so much, “It reminds me of strawberries and milk, and it smells like it too,”

“It smells like charred hair,”

“So what? Sometimes my hair smells like gunpowder because of Katsuki, does that bother you?” When he shook his head, you smiled, patting his cheek lightly, “Exactly. What’s next?”

His grip on your waist seemed to grow tighter, as if you were the only thing keeping him grounded. “I don’t like my eyes. Sometimes I wish they were a single color,”

“It makes you rather unique, don’t you think?” You asked.

“It makes me feel like a freak,”

You hummed, a low sound in your throat as you caressed his cheek, your thumb gently soothing the area under his eye. “Well, for what it counts, I love your eyes. It’s probably the first thing that drew me in,”

He stared at you for a few more seconds, trying to see if there were any signs of falsehood in them. When he came up with nothing, he continued to list his reasons:

“I don’t like my hands,” He stated, looking at yours, “They’re too rough and dry,”

Frowning, you reached to grab one of his hands with your own, bringing it up to your lips to press a sweet kiss to the back of his hand. “That just means you work hard, there’s nothing to be ashamed of there,”

He snorted, though you could tell there was no humor behind it, “It can’t feel nice to hold,”

“I like them,” You announced, interlocking your fingers together, “It shows how much dedication you have when it comes to your work, and holding your hand is one of my favorite activities to do,”

You could tell that your words were getting to him, as his eyes started to glisten, unshed tears beginning to come forward. Pulling his hand away from yours, he turned his head to the side, not wanting to look at you as he continued to speak, “I don’t like my scars,”

Thinking back to what had just occurred in the bathroom, you felt your heart break just a bit. Squeezing him just a bit tighter, you did your best to keep your voice steady.

“Your scars show that you’ve saved lives,” You said, your hands brushing against the raised skin on his arms, “You love to help others, even if it comes at the sake of your own safety,”

“Well what about this one?” He asked, point to the one covering his left eye, “Not all scars show that I’ve saved lives, (Y/N). They’re not something that’s amazing or beautiful, there’s blemishes that I wish I could get rid of,”

Grabbing his hand with both of yours, you moved to press a feather light kiss to the bottom of his scar, feeling how he trembled beneath you. Moving back, you could feel tears stinging at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall.

“No, you’re right. Not every scar tells a heroic story. Sometimes they’re reminders of horrible memories that we’d like to forget,” Squeezing his hand, you continued, “Your scars don’t define who you are though, Shouto. Sure, they tell the stories of your life, the struggles that you’ve been through, and the heroic deeds that you’ve done, but that doesn’t mean that it’s the only thing that defines you. I know that it’s hard to believe me now, and I hope in the future you’ll be able to feel the same way I do, but I love every single inch of you. I don’t care if your hair is silky or coarse, or if your hands are rough or not. All I care about is being with you, and all of those things that you hate, that’s what makes you so special to me.

I’m not going to say that I can take away all of the pain you’ve been feeling, because honestly, I can’t. What I can promise you though is that I’ll still be with you no matter what, even on the days where you feel terrible and just want to hide away.”

By the end of your little speech, Shouto had dropped his head onto your shoulder, and you could feel his body begin to shake, and tears soak into your shoulder.

For a while, the two of you said nothing, and the only sounds in the room were his light sniffles and your quiet humming. After what had to been half an hour, Shouto finally moved his head from your shoulder, his eyes having taken on a pink tint. When you felt him reach for your waist, you gladly let yourself be pulled into his chest, with your back pushed against his front.

With a soft kiss to the top of your head, you heard him whisper out a quiet “thank you.” Smiling, you patted his hands, silently telling him that you were there.

“Don’t worry about it,” You spoke, feeling his breath begin to even out.

“Until you learn to love yourself, I’ll love you enough for the both of us,”

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto #shoto todoroki #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

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javisjeanjacket · 4 years

Text

Promotion - (duke leto atredies x fem!reader)

A/N: holy shit this one took me forever and im so happy to be done with it lol. big shoutout to my best bud cass for forcing me to finish this mf. i needed to get all my pent up love for oscar and his beautiful beard out of my system so here ya go. sorry mom. (and cass) :’)

also idk shit about dune so im sorry if this is wildly inaccurate, im just really out here vibin and being in love with oscar’s beard dont come for me please

Word Count: 4.5K

Warnings: ahahaha *cracks knuckles* alright SO first off this is pwp, NSWF, 18+, mature, not for children, etc. I stg if you’re under age and read this shit im gonna slap you. so they have sex surprise surprise, holding of an orgasm, kind of a dom x sub dynamic but not really, oral sex (m giving f recieving), orgasm (both m and f), oscar isaac needs his own warning who are we kidding.

(not sure who the GIF is by but if i had to guess i would say ms. taylor over at @/damerondjarin

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of your boots clacking on the heavy gray floor resounded through the towering hallways as you walked. Chewing on the meat of your lip helped to focus your racing mind. Your eyes were cast towards the dark slate of the floor and you almost missed the turn into Duke Leto's throne room.

Pausing a moment to force your thumping heart to calm itself, you faced the great stone laden door. You blinked a few times and steadied the hands jittering at your sides. Taking a deep breath, you pushed your way through the door.

A long roll of velvet struck the room creating a divide that seemed to originate from it's heart. A throne sat in the center of the room, it's legs and top decorated with rare jewels from the depths of Arrakis. A chill wafted over you and as soon as your boots met the pristine velvet you knelt, honoring the man watching from his jeweled perch.

"You asked for me, Duke Leto?" You asked, your voice barely more than a whisper.

The man stood from his throne, pushing forcefully off of the arms as he did.

You could hear his boots on the cushioned velvet as they made their way towards you but you dared not to look up, lest he find your gaze distasteful.

His grey boots stopped in front of your own and he cleared his throat. "Stand."

You swallowed and rose from your kneeling position, making sure to avert your eyes from Leto. The muscle in your chest held back it's beating as you waited in anxiety for the Duke's next move.

He moved from in front of you to stroll around your figure, his pace leisurely; although his words were anything but. "I appointed you to lead my 45th Battalion" His voice was stoic, withheld.

Your breathing intensified. "Yes, my lord."

Leto stopped beside you and leaned so that his mouth was mere inches from your ear. "I have been watching you." He said, his voice tickling the hairs on your cheek.

You snapped your eyes shut and forced yourself to focus on his words and not the warmth building in your abdomen. Your lungs kept up their nervous pumping.

"You have to be the most talented Lieutenant Colonel I have ever had under my command." Gently, he reached a hand from behind his back to meet your cheek. "I would like to show you my gratitude. If you'll let me. I have heard tell of your feelings for me." The pads of his fingers pressed softly on your skin and your eyes fluttered at the contact.

You could feel your core begin to throb against the fabric of your underwear, the first embers of a future fire. As his thumb ran over them, your lips parted under his touch.

'Heard tell? How did he hear about how I feel? Who did I even tell?' You asked yourself. The questions were soon pushed from your mind as Leto's eyes fell from yours to the fullness of your lips.

Leto could feel your breath on his thumb and the warmth of it made his heart quicken. His dark eyes trained on your lips, searching the depths of you for the passion he saw on the battlefield, the unwavering beauty he could see even in the midst of a crisis. Leto grit his teeth and slipped his thumb past your soft lips and into the warmth of your mouth.

Unsure at first, you moved slowly and drug your tongue around his thumb in timid circles.

Leto's eyes burned as you teased him and you could see his jaw clenching beneath his graying beard.

You began to suck on the thumb and moved a hand to clench the top of your thigh, vying to redirect the burning in your lower half.

Leto closed his eyes and swallowed before blinking them back open and pulling his thumb from your mouth. He let his thumb drag down your chin, leaving a wet steak behind. With both hands, he held your face just as softly as he had before, the pressure so light against you that you could barely feel it. The Duke's eyes flicked from your lips to your eyes and you could see his chest thumping quickly. His lips parted and his eyes bore into you so intensely you wanted to whimper, but you fought to hold your composure. The training this very man had given you shielding you from a loss of control.

Graciously, Leto moved his lips to yours and pulled softly. His beard was long enough to be soft against your face, tickling your cheeks and chin as you moved with him. The tips of his fingers dug into your face a bit stronger now, just enough to set your core ablaze.

You gasped softly as his tongue pressed against your bottom lip. Opening your mouth, you swirled your tongue around his own, dancing dutifully beside him.

He moved one of his hands from your face to your back now, pressing against you with an open palm.

Your chest gently pressed against his and you wrapped an arm around his neck. The smell of him, cinnamon and vetiver, flowed through your nose and created an enlightened feeling in your mind.

Duke Leto moved his hand from your back down to your waist. His fingers squeezed around your hip bone and elicited a small whimper from you. The sound of it vibrating on his lips and tongue.

Your hips jerked in his grasp, colliding gently with his own and the pressure of his half-hard dick tingled around the beating in your core.

He pulled away from your kiss, but not your arms and said, his voice now coated with lust, "Would you like to continue this in my chambers?"

Looking up at him through your eyelashes and a soft smile playing on your lips, you answered, "Yes, my lord."

Duke Leto took part of his lip under his teeth and shook his head as he looked over your form hungrily. "Follow me, Lieutenant." He turned from you, his lips puffed and red from your pulling on them and began to walk back through the throne room door.

You followed him obediently, the heat of your core hovering over your legs.

Leto walked with quickened footsteps up a flight of stairs and, when you reached the uppermost part of the home, he unlocked and opened a rather ordinary looking door to reveal his own personal chambers.

You followed him inside and tried to swallow the lump in your throat.

Duke shut the door behind you and drug his fingertips slowly from the small of your back around to hold your hips in his big hands. His eyes, their depths overwhelming, held you in their grasp so tightly you felt as if you were unable to move. Leto moved his mouth to nestle in the crook of your neck and he sucked on the skin there tenderly.

Your head instinctively lolled backwards and your eyebrows pursed as you moaned softly. An animalistic need began to rear it's head within you, a need that only the man in front of you would be able to completely satisfy.

The Duke moved one of his hands to cup the back of your head.

You wrapped one of your arms around his neck and the other worked into his hair, pulling the grey curls softly.

He trailed his lips up from your neck to your jawline and finally met your lips once more. When your lips met for the second time, his touch was laced with fire. The passion in his kiss burned hot against the inside of your cheeks and tickled your tongue. His hand on the back of your head moved to support your neck as he pressed his lips into you harder than before. His tongue darting and weaving quickly in your mouth. The man pressed his hips to yours, his now fully hardened dick rubbing against your trembling vagina.

You moaned, louder this time, and did not resist as he walked you backwards so that your back was flat against his chamber wall. You sucked in air at the contact of the cool wall with your back and Leto chuckled on your lips.

He kissed you hungrily and his hands wandered up to the fasten on your top. "Can I take this off?" He whispered.

You began to tremble, your mind already whirring faster than your body. Breathless, you answered, "Yes, my lord."

Duke smiled softly and worked to undo the top fully, allowing his fingertips to drag down your bare arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. "You're trembling, Lieutenant." Leto whispered, his eyebrows pulled tight. He held the top still in his grasp as his eyes searched your face.

"It's nothing." You lied. The beating in your core was becoming deafening.

"Are you sure you want me to continue?" He asked again, his voice soft.

"Yes, my lord."

"Call me Duke when we're like this." The man whispered, moving slowly to kiss you again.

"Yes, my lord." You teased in between his lips and gasps for air.

The man chuckled low in his throat and worked the top the rest of the way off of you.

Your chest rattled wildly as you tried to focus your mind on Leto's unrelenting grasp on your mouth. His pace was dizzying and the firm grip on your hips was now slipping upwards to rest just under your breasts, his thumbs moving gently across the fabric of your bra. You moaned as his fingers found their way to your back and began to wrestle with the bra clasp. Timidly, you reached a hand out to the fasten on his shirt.

"Can I take this off, my l-" You paused and chuckled. "Duke?"

The man's eyes now rumbling and burning with passion, bore into yours and his mouth tweaked upwards in a half smile. "Very good. You may."

You blushed at his praise and stood on your tip toes to place kisses on Duke Leto's neck. His stubble scratched your lips as you worked on the fasten of his shirt.

Leto unhooked your bra clasp and slowly drug his fingertips up from the fabric to the tips of your shoulders and down your arms as he pulled the bra from you.

A shiver ran down your back and awakened the hairs on the back of your neck.

He gently pressed his palms to the sides of your breasts and moved his big thumbs over your erect nipples.

You moaned on his neck and began to pull his shirt off of his broad shoulders. As it slid, so did your bra, and the two garmets intermingled as they fell; wrapping you and the Duke together until real life called for you once more.

"What do you want me to call you when we're like this?" Leto asked, his voice gravelly and dark. He began to kiss a trail from the base of your neck to the space in between your breasts.

Your head lolled backwards to set against the cool stone wall behind you. "Call me whatever you want, my lord. Just don't stop."

The man's hands tightened around your breasts and he chuckled, the exhaling air a welcome presence on your skin. "I told you to call me Duke, Lieutenant."

"I'm s-s-sorry." Your breath caught as Leto moved his lips to your hardened nipples. His beard scratched against the reeling skin there and tickled as he moved.

He moved to the other nipple, sucking gently and using his teeth to scrape gently. "I'll have to punish you now."

Your hand squeezed into the meat of his shoulder. "Whatever you want, Duke."

His mouth pulled harder on your nipple and he reached a hand to the opposite one, toying and massaging it.

You moaned and tried to stifle it by biting your lip. You reached a hand out to clench his graying curls. The growing chorus in your abdomen was swelling with bravado now, it's sound ringing in your ears and chittering down your arms. You closed your eyes, the feeling of his mouth and hands almost completely overwhelming. "Duke, please..." You breathed, your chest catching.

"Please what?" He teased, his tongue drawing tantalizing circles around the point of your breast.

"I-" His fingers pulled hard on your nipple and you gasped. "It's too much, I need you...please."

Leto moaned on your skin and gave your nipple one last bite before rushing to take your bottoms off of you, ripping and damaging the fabric as he did.

You jerked as his hands brushed over your throbbing core, your body made alive by Leto's touch.

The Duke yanked your bottoms down your hips and dropped them to the floor below. His eyes never left yours as his hands worked your underwear down and off of your figure. He stood and let his eyes wander over your body, his tongue flicking over his lips as he did, and then whispered, "Lay on the bed."

Your breath quickened and you rushed to the bed in the middle of the room. You crawled up to rest against the pillows at the head of the mattress and bit your lips. Courage surging through you, you cast your eyes up to met Leto's.

The depth sitting behind his dark eyes called to you, wordlessly pulling you towards himself. As the Duke moved closer, his form strong and demanding, you felt like prey ensnared by a master hunter. A causality of ignorance.

Leto ran his hands up your bare legs and rested his open palms on your hips. His fingerprints burned on your skin, sending flames through your throbbing core.

Your abdomen seized at his squeezing, causing your hips to jerk towards him.

The Duke smirked and ran his hands from your hip bones to the inside of your thighs, pushing them apart gently.

You swallowed and you could hear the thumping of your heartbeat in your ears.

His breath was warm against your exposed folds, tickling and awakening them carefully. Moving slowly, Leto ran two of his fingers around the outline of your folds, touching you so gently it tickled. His eyes burned into yours, the passion behind them threatening to overwhelm you.

You dropped your head to the pillow and let out an exasperated moan.

Leto's hand moved from your folds to push against your thighs. He moved them so that your knees rested up close to your face and almost too gently, he pulled the lips of your vagina in his mouth. His beard tickled all over the heightened skin and sent trails of sparks through your body.

You cooed and reached a hand into his thick grey hair.

The man licked in between the lips now, a thick stripe up the length of you and a quick tease of your clit with his nose.

You moaned and licked your lips. Your eyes clenched closed and your breath left you.

The Duke reached up your torso to take your hand, squeezing it tightly as he buried his tongue fully into you, slurping and teasing in erotic patterns.

You moaned aloud now, the sound filling up the room above the ungodly sounds of your wetness and the Duke's tongue.

With his free hand, he began to push overwhelming circles into your aching clit.

You exclaimed and it came out strangled. Your legs jerked away from him and he momentarily moved his hands to pull you back towards him.

His beard rubbed against your sensitive skin, adding to the growing fire within you. He resumed toying with your clitoris and his tongue lapped hurriedly at your entrance.

Subconsciously, you ground your hips into his mouth and he pulled away at your pushing. "Stay still if you want me to eat you, Lieutenant."

You whined and nodded, "Yes, my lord."

Leto chuckled, ran his tongue over his lips, your slick still covering his mouth and beard. "You don't listen, do you?" His hands ran up your torso to your hardened nipples. "I'll have to punish you now." He growled, positioning his mouth over your dripping core. His hands pulled and twisted as his mouth dug hungrily into your slick folds.

You yelled and felt the walls within you clench around nothing. Try as you might, you couldn't stop your thighs from pushing away from him.

His touch was not as forgiving this time, pulling your thighs forcefully back to his lips and wasting no time licking hasty circles around your throbbing clitoris.

You moaned and reached out to the sheets of the bed for support, curling your fingers into them tightly.

Heat was building within you and you could feel it pushing against your back, moving you up and off the bed. You moaned loudly and bit the inside of your lip.

"Don't stop." You said in between heaving breaths.

Leto chuckled and you cried out in pleasure. He continued his barrage on your folds, the pleasure growing so immense it threatened to boil over.

One of your hands wrapped itself in his hair and the other clawed at the bed sheets. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum..." You cooed.

The Duke hummed and sat back up, pulling his mouth from your throbbing vagina.

You exclaimed in annoyance and discomfort. "What are you doing?" Your breath came out ragged as you sat up to look him in the eyes.

"I told you I have to punish you." The man whispered. He ran his thick hands down the tops of your legs, squeezing when he got to the knees.

You groaned, half in annoyance and half in pleasure and threw your head back to the pillow. Looking back up at Leto, you could see a growing bulge in his bottoms, the fabric tight against his body.

"Let me touch you, Duke." You whispered, realizing that the request seemed too intense as it rolled off your tongue. You looked up at him through your eyelashes and raised one eyebrow higher than the other. "Please?"

The man shook his head no and leaned towards you again. His hand reached to grip your jaw softly. "I'm not done with you yet."

You breathing picked up as you looked over his features. Always so guarded, so stoic, calculating.

Duke met your lips with his own gently, his grip on your face relaxing.

You whined into his mouth. The insurmountable tenderness he was showing you threatened to overwhelm you. Kissing him harder now, you moved one hand to caress his face and the other to run over the growing bulge in his pants.

Leto hissed as you palmed him, the touch unexpected. He moved your hand off of him and then brought both of your hands above your head. He held them there with his hand as he finished the kiss.

"Keep your hands right here. You move them and your punishment lasts longer." He instructed. His eyes looked into yours with gravity, his heavy eyebrows seeming to divide his face.

You nodded yes and closed your eyes.

Leto ran his hands down your sides to your hips once more. He pushed your legs up and re-positioned himself above your dripping cunt. Meeting your eyes with his own, he licked a thick stripe up your slick folds and whipped his nose back and forth across your throbbing bud.

You yelped and clenched your fingers together.

Duke slipped two of his fingers into your entrance and began to move them back and forth slowly; dragging the pads of his fingers across every ridge he could find.

You clenched your eyes shut and grit your teeth. You tried to moan his name but your brain couldn't push your pleasure aside long enough to form the word.

Leto moved his mouth now to the inside of your thigh. He sucked on your burning skin with force, pinching so hard a bruise was sure to appear in the morning.

The fire smoldering in your core began to ignite and you couldn't help the tendrils of it from crackling down your back. You arched against the bed and let out an animalistic moan.

Leto moved to your other thigh, bruising and pinching the skin there too. His free hand moved up to tease your engorged clit, his thumb dragging slow circles around it. Building with speed and intensity.

Your thighs began to clench and unclench, readying your body for the orgasm creeping up your spine.

Leto noticed your body and the building tension around his fingers. He removed his fingers from you, slipped them into his own mouth and then said, "You taste so good, Lieutenant." He unfastened his bottoms and pulled them down his legs. He took his hardened dick out of his underwear and pumped it in his hand, the head glistening and weeping for you.

Your eyebrows furrowed and you flopped back down on the bed. You reached a hand to tease your clit, the sight of him pushing another wave of pleasure through you.

"Not yet." Duke scolded, the last 't' getting stuck in between his teeth.

You cried out, frustration consuming you.

Leto pushed his underwear off his body and then ran his erection up and down your folds and pushed himself against your clit softly.

You cooed and ran a hand through your hair.

The Duke leaned over you and pressed his hot mouth to your collarbone, sucking just as he had between your thighs, with passion and intensity. His teeth bit at your skin, sending ripples of pleasure through you.

"Everyone is going to know who's you are." He whispered on your skin. He kissed a trail up to your neck and bit there again, pulling the skin tightly between his teeth.

"Fuck..." You breathed, fantasizing about how you would have to explain the marks to everyone who asked.

His cock twitched against your folds, the absolutely filthy sound of your skin against his filled the room. "You're gonna cum so hard for me, aren't you, Lieutenant?"

You whined and your chest pressed against his as your back left the mattress. You nodded and replied, "Yes, Duke."

"Move to your hands and knees." He commanded, his dark eyes focused on yours.

You nodded yes and shifted your body so that your ass sat on display before him.

Leto growled as he ran his hands down your back and over the curve of your ass. He clenched the meat of you tightly and smacked one of your cheeks.

You yelped and jerked back at the unexpected movement.

Duke pulled on your hips and moved you back to him, pressing your ass against his hips. He licked his fingers and ran them up and down your slick folds.

"Duke, please..." You moaned, your head hanging limply towards the bed underneath you.

"You want me to fuck you, Lieutenant? Huh? You want me inside you?" He teased, his tone low and guttural. He pushed the tip of his dick up and down your folds, but kept it just far enough from your entrance that he still denied you the friction you so desired.

You cried out, "Yes, god, please, fuck me Duke, please."

The man's big hands guided himself into you; finally.

"Jesus, fuck..." You whined.

Leto moved into you slowly, your walls stretching to accommodate him. He bottomed out as his hands ran over your ass and stopped to clench around your waist. The man growled at the feeling of you completely absorbing him. He reached up and tangled his hands in your hair. He pulled on your hair softly; the ache in your scalp forcing your back to sit up and meet his.

Your breath came out in short spurts, the rhythm of Leto's thrusts pushing the air out of you.

His body moved cautiously inside of you, testing how far he could thrust and how intensely he could push. He wrapped his hands around your body and landed on your breasts. His fingers twisted harshly on your nipples and you could feel his teeth biting into your shoulder.

You bounced up and down on him, the pressure of your combined efforts building quickly inside you. You moaned his name and threw your head back on his shoulder. ]

Leto grabbed both of your arms in his hands and pulled you closer to him. He pressed soft kisses on your face, his beard scratching at your overstimulated skin. He picked up the speed of his thrusts now, his breath coming out ragged and pointed over your skin.

You cried out and fell against Duke's grasp on your arms, the pleasure curling within you forcing your body to weaken. You could feel yourself clenching around him methodically, your body just waiting on the cusp of pleasure for so long it trembled, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Leto could feel you becoming weak for him and he took it as a cue to push you over the edge. He moved one leg up from his knees and let your body fall forward. He held your sides gently but rutted into you with more passion than you knew was possible from one man.

You exclaimed, tears pricking at the sides of your vision. You could feel the pressure within you building, pressing against the inside of your skin, a grenade about to explode. "Please, Leto, please let me cum." You begged, all the professionalism and aloofness you had walked in with gone. You reached a hand down to tease your clit as he answered, "You wanna cum? You wanna gush all over me, huh?"

You moaned and let your head hang limply before you. Your hand picked up it's pace on your beating nub. "Yes, Leto, please."

The Duke behind you let out several uncharacteristically passionate moans and you could feel his cock twitching inside you. "I get to cum first, Lieutenant." He chuckled to himself.

You could feel him shooting his seed into you, the streams hot and thick inside your walls. Your body began to shake, unable to contain the pleasure for one more moment.

"Fuck, cum all over me baby, shake for me." He coaxed you.

As soon as the words fell out of his mouth, your body fell limply against Duke's grasp, your entire body trembling. Your mouth fell open, but no sound emitted. The muscle in your head seized, sending shooting pain through your mind. Your arms and legs clenched, rendering you limp. You could feel your walls squeezing around him and he thrust a few more times lazily to help you come down. You let out a few staccatoed yelps and then regained enough consciousness to blink yourself back into the present moment. Your breath returned now, soft and warm inside your chest. You fell from Duke's grasp and onto the bed, your eyes dangerously heavy.

Leto moved to lay beside you, dragging his fingertips across the line of your body. He yanked the blanket out from under the both of you and threw half of it over your naked body. He worked his arm underneath your neck and then pushed a strand of your hair back behind your ear.

"Holy shit." You breathed out.

Leto chuckled, the lines around his eyes pushing together. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "Probably your best work yet, Lieutenant."

DUKE LETO TAGLIST: @yougottakeeponkeepinon

GENERAL TAGLIST: @softly-sad @mcolbz14

What did you think? I really hope you enjoyed reading my work. Just your liking / re-blogging it means a lot. If you have a moment, I would love to hear your thoughts! Tell me what you think via my ask box or a comment always warms my heart!! Thank you again for reading!

Need more reading material? You can visit my Masterlist for more content!

Want to be kept in the loop? Let me know so I can put your handle in my taglist form. Right now, I’m writing for Poe Dameron, Duke Leto, Santi, Shara x Kes, and Din Djarin, but I have plans to expand my SW character list, and eventually add in my favorites from the MCU as well.

Thanks again for reading! Sending love! -hai

#duke leto atreides #leto atreides #duke leto atreides x y/n #duke leto atreides smut #duke leto atreides x reader #hai writes #sorry mom

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kuiinncedes · 3 years

Text

every little bump in the road

for @gleeadvent day 5: exhale

happy new yearrr lmao i'm still here doin this in the new year hehe 🤪 idk i guess i'll be trying to write for all of them just for the sake of writing ya know so yeah lol

1123 words; title from "breathe (taylor's version)" by taylor swift

set during 4x06 glease - maybe warning (not sure) for a small mention of marley's situation in 4x06 (after trying the skirt on and it being revealed that kitty fucked with it bc she's a fucking evil little -- anyway) also swearing lol

what else do i usually put heres lmao uh written for glee advent day 5 which means it's actually december 5 :] idk about you (but im feeling 2022) except i'm actually not i think it's actually just uh december 32 (not that i Want 2021 to continue but like it just does not feel like it at all 😂 Anywayyy sorry i'll shut up now fghjlkd)

read under the cut or on ao3 💓

Tina… probably needs a break. Needs to go to sleep before 2 am, mainly. She could tell her friends had the same thought from Blaine and Sam’s hesitance to leave after rehearsal, when she insisted that she was fine staying by herself, just had a few costumes to finish up, but ultimately Blaine and Sam had talked about running lines together and she suspected Blaine just wanted the comfort of his own home. So they left without too much fight and Tina’s at school alone again, like she has been almost every day for the past month, mostly voluntarily -- but with Mike being back and horrible wardrobe updates and finally thinking she’d gotten a chance to get out of the supporting side role for a moment but even Finn not believing in her potential and kind of accidentally taking on all of the costuming for Grease by herself, she’s a little… tired.

She’s been a little tired. Of a lot more than making costumes.

But she sets her stuff down on the piano backstage, makes her way to the costume racks, pulls Marley’s yellow skirt out and the new measurements taken today after the failed fitting, and tackles that first, because she does love doing this, and she loves the show and wants to do her part to make it the best it can be, even as the start of tech week grinds her already-rough sleep schedule to smithereens and her teachers this year don’t seem to like leniency very much. (They also claim to be fed up with glee club nonsense, but this really isn’t glee club-related, even if the entire main cast is from the glee club, and most of the rest of the cast, and the pit is mainly comprised of the glee club band, and it’s being directed by current and former glee club members….)

No one else in the glee club was interested or capable enough to volunteer for wardrobe, but Tina then also insisted she could do it herself, so a part of her being the only one is stubbornness. At this point, she kind of wants Finn to call Kurt back to help her with it since he could do that with Santana. It could be like nationals her sophomore year again, where they were in charge of making the girls' dresses and she still somewhat stayed under Kurt's tutelage at that point, but he helped her and assured her in her skill enough that she was able to take over more in his senior year. And she had someone to talk to about fashion who had ambitions and passions in it that she didn't know in anyone else.

But Tina knows that won’t happen, for completely unrelated reasons. She’s not sure she should be wanting that at all, as she remembers Blaine’s crushed expression after his audition, the smile that didn’t reach his eyes when she asked if he was okay, didn't reach his eyes when he got Teen Angel, hasn’t reached his eyes in weeks, since returning from an impromptu trip to New York.

The waistband of Marley’s skirt has been taken in a few inches, folded over itself and sewn in place, the overlap a small but significant length. Tina kicks herself for not noticing earlier today, when Marley got so distressed about having gained weight, and also not noticing until now that her new measurements are the same if not a bit smaller, so it couldn’t have been that.

Fuck -- her brain isn’t working; she makes sure that stays true by dropping her forehead to the table, and after a short forceful exhale she sits back up and grabs scissors, carefully snipping through the stitches that are actually done really well and tight and by whom? and pulling the waistband taut again, measuring it fully just in case, and hanging it back up.

Before she can worry more about who might have done it, though, the sound of people coming very loudly up the stairs to the stage echoes in the empty auditorium, startling her for a moment and then Blaine and Sam poke their heads out from behind the curtain and she smiles. Blaine waves, Sam holds up a plastic bag. “We brought food.”

“I thought you guys were running lines?” Even though neither of them have huge parts, and she knows they already have the songs down. “You wanted to come annoy me instead? I'm touched.”

Blaine smiles slightly as they walk towards her. It’s still not the smile she misses from him (she really misses) but she thinks it might be getting there. Tina gives him small smile back and a side hug as he corrects, “Wanted to come help you instead. And we can run lines here with you!”

She pretends not to notice the slight red around his eyes, the bit of rasp in his voice and the way he sniffs and clears his throat quietly; she just cranes her head up to kiss his cheek and goes to hug Sam, too.

“You need help with anything, T?” Sam asks, opening the bag to set Chipotle items on a table that Tina just cleared of some fabric scraps. “Besides food, of course. Since you basically live here now.”

Tina laughs and pushes Sam gently, and runs through the list in her head while opening her bowl that she sees immediately doesn't really contain her usual order, even though this is not the first time she’s tried entrusting it to Sam and Blaine to get, but she’s grateful anyway. For the food, and for their presence and energy pushing her tiredness aside, making her almost forget it was there in the first place.

She has to start finish her own costume for “You’re The One That I Want,” which is probably the biggest thing, but she also has to alter Santana’s and Kitty’s costumes a bit, and she has a few “Beauty School Dropout” headpieces left to make.

… that’s it? Tina looks around… pretty much. She’s a little surprised by her own sticking to schedule; the first dress rehearsal is in a few days still and she’ll definitely be done by then. She’s confident enough that she decides not to spend her limited time and energy teaching her friends how to correctly glue the tin cans together, or any sewing, and just says, “I don’t have much left. You guys can run lines or whatever, or run the songs while I do other stuff -- it’ll help me too.”

“Cool,” Sam agrees around a mouth stuffed with burrito. He bangs a fist on the table. “‘Beauty School Dropout’?” he asks, facing Blaine who does a half-smile again as he opens his bowl and responds, “Maybe after we eat, dude.”

(end notes bc i like this part of posting on ao3 lmao so i'll just put it here here's some more randomness 🤪)

this was maybe gonna stay just tina?? but guess what there's two fuckers (affectionate) who decided to show up (started writing these three as sunset curve in katp and now i can't escape the blamtina brainrot) (3/5 of my glee advent fics are blamtina let's see what it ends up being at the end lol)

idk shit about glee bc i haven't watched it in a long time lol jk but i also dk shit about grease bc i've never seen it all hgjdfk i know is like what was on glee and like what i could learn from jojo siwa's dwts grease dance XD so if there's any inaccuracies or whatever idk that's why lol

also i have never done shit with like clothes and stuff lmao so idk how that works either i based things on my experience in two high school musicals in the pit not at an arts-hating school and having no idea how the costuming works so it's probably a little different lol, and i also based things on my experience fucking up my sleep schedule this semester :P

#i actually really like this :o #oh i also snuck some kurtina in there sdlkghfj #ik the tags aren't working rn but that'll hardly make a difference for this tbh #correction it Won't make a difference lol but imma tag shit anyway 🤪#glee #glee fic #tina cohen chang #blamtina #my ficsssss #glee advent 2021

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inkperch · 3 years

Text

Me: having a bit of a bad day, schools being stressful.

Gets home.

League of Legends: Here, have CANON DIANA/LEONA FINALLY IM LITERALLY TOO ECITED TO READ IT RN!!!

ZLS: You’re also too excited to watch me rn, but all things considered I’m definitely gonna be Legendary when you get around to me

FNAF: still kinda depressing situation all around, but yay! He’s actually like... stepping away and choosing to let his fans separate the art from the artist. Ngl, still Not Happy tm with this whole thing, but I gotta respect that bit.

The Necklace I Got For My 18th That I Thought I Lost: nah dude, I was just hiding in your pjs you put me down cause my clasp is hard and forgot to pick me back up

My Mum: for completely unrelated reasons, I’m spoiling you today have literally all of your favourite foods stocked for the weekend.

Hotel? Trivago.

#The one drawback is that everywhere is spoilers rn #League of Legends #zombieland saga #fnaf

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randomoranges · 3 years

Text

so this is the 3rd lyric from the song, but i’m trying to keep up with the fic-thing-whatever and ill get to the other parts later. the momentum is going and im trying to match it and such

lamao this reminds me of 2010 and when i wrote a chapter of a fic to match all of canadas medals. good times. that was - hard and a rush

also i made this into snippets of moments in the same day. to - make it shorter. even though it turned into an 8 page tiny monster lamao.

ANYWAYS

DO YOU LIKE SPORTS. DO YOU LIKE FEELS. DO YOU LIKE NEUROTIC SPORTS SUPERSTITIONS

well, you will be served

Rouge comme le sang qui nous coule à travers

July 5th 2021

When Edward woke up that morning, he expected to find Étienne curled up by his side and to splurge and indulge in some good morning cuddles. Instead, the spot besides him was empty and cold. He sighed to himself and after waiting for a bit, in case his boyfriend made a reappearance, he shuffled his way to the kitchen, where he might find him.

Truth to form, Étienne was there, already more or less dressed, drinking what couldn’t possibly be his first cup of coffee in the morning out of one of many Habs cups Edward had spotted in the last twenty or so hours.

“Morning!” Étienne sounded a tad too cheerful, but Edward ignored it and made his way to his boyfriend where he could properly snuggle and feel that blessed beard against his skin for a moment. Thankfully, Étienne was never one to deny any sort of physical touch and wrapped his arms around him, before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

There was a reason as to why Edward had chosen this particular time to visit. For starters, he absolutely did not want to miss out on the beard and with the playoffs wrapping up shortly, he knew that his time was counted. On top of that, Edward knew how the people of Montréal took to the Habs losing this far into the playoff run and the down Étienne would feel if that happened.

It wasn’t that Étienne’s mood solely depended and fluctuated because of the hockey, but with so many people being emotionally vested in the team, their winning or losing would ultimately have an impact on Étienne. Now if they won, well, Edward wanted to live vicariously through it. Plus, there was something quite wonderful in an Étienne who was that jubilant and ecstatic. However, if the Habs lost, Edward wanted to be there for emotional support and also to make sure that the slump wouldn’t eventually tie in with one of Étienne’s own spectacular, unrelated to hockey, depressive episodes.

“Plans for the day?” He asked, perfectly comfortable in the crook of Étienne’s neck.

“Well, funny you should ask,” Étienne started and Edward had visions of intense biking up the mountain in the oppressive humidity or something as ridiculously insane, “I – have an errand to run, but I don’t want to impose on you.” For some reason, Étienne sounded a little nervous about this errand and Edward didn’t understand why.

“So? Go run your errand. I can come with you if you need help.” So long as it didn’t involve standing in the scorching heat, he was fine.

“No, no it’s fine! I appreciate you wanting to help – but, I don’t want to bother you, really.”

Edward stepped back and took a good look at his boyfriend’s face. Something was up.

It took him a moment, but then it clicked.

It had to be one of his ridiculous pre-game rituals he had completely forgotten about. He almost groaned. Étienne was anal about his rituals to bring the Habs good luck. Downright neurotic, really and Edward had been victim to many séances of Étienne doing the most ridiculous of things that he swore would help his team win. (To be honest, Edward did wonder, deep down, if maybe Étienne wasn’t on to something, considering the fact that the Habs had won 24 cups in their history, but he wasn’t about to say any of that out loud.)

“Do I want to know what crazy task you’re going to do?” He asked.

Étienne gave him another nervous smile and tugged on his beard, “It’s not that crazy, really...” He murmured and Edward feared for the worst.

“What is it this time? Putting your left sock on before you’re right one? Talking to your posters? Building a puck pyramid? Prepare a specific meal?”

“Please, that was last night and this morning. I need to go to the Oratory.”

Edward’s face blanched. Of course Étienne would go to the Oratory. He had forgotten all about it.

“You’re kidding.”

Étienne scoffed, “I am not kidding, Édouard. This is very serious. I need to make my pilgrimage to the Oratory, climb the steps on my knees and then light up a candle for the Habs’ victory tonight.”

Edward remained silent. He knew better than to argue or say anything about it. Étienne took his rituals very seriously.

“My issue is that you flew all the way to spend time with me and I don’t want you to think I’m just abandoning you.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Edward said with a chuckle, as he finally decided to grab a mug that didn’t have a Habs banner, a players number or Youppi’s face on it, and poured himself some coffee, “You go do whatever it is you need to do and I’ll acquaint myself with your glorious pool.”

“Are you sure?” Étienne twirled the hem of his shirt around his thumb and followed after Edward when he headed for the table.

“More than sure. I don’t want to be held responsible for your team losing if you don’t complete your set of rituals. Plus, I’ll be fine here and I can spend more time with Mercury.”

“Sure?” Étienne asked again.

“Yes. I promise.” It wasn’t as if Étienne would be out for the entire day anyways.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best!” Étienne was careful not to topple the coffee out of his hands, but still wrapped Edward in a tight hug.

In all honesty, Edward was a little overwhelmed to be sitting in the Bell Centre. There were so many people and so many lights that it was quite dizzying. After over a year of leading a quiet life at home, this felt like too much too soon, but at the same time, the energy was electrifying.

“Can you believe that the last time I was here for a final, you were also here?” Étienne said excitedly as they settled into their seats. It was crazy to think that Étienne looked tame in comparison to some other fans in the arena, even if he was wearing one of his many Habs jerseys, his Habs pants, his Habs shoes and most likely other articles of clothing he couldn’t see.

“Really?” Edward thought about it for a moment, “Shit, you’re right – so does that make me a lucky charm?” He joked, “Do you need to rub my head for good luck?” He laughed, but then when he saw the serious look on his boyfriend’s face he stopped. Étienne looked at him and seemed to be debating this for a moment. He had definitely shot himself in the foot with that idea.

“Better off not taking any chances,” Étienne said as he rubbed Edward’s head for good measure, much to Edward’s chagrin.

“Are you happy now?” He asked, when Étienne was done.

“Maybe. I would’ve been happier if you would have let me dress you for the occasion. You’ve got to be the only person here who’s not wearing something Habs on them.” He pouted.

Étienne had offered to lend him anything from a tank top to a signed jersey, with everything in between, but Edward had refused. For as much as he enjoyed being at the arena, there were still team loyalties he had to respect and that would be going too far.

“No I’m not, look, there’s a few people wearing Tampa jerseys.” He pointed out.

Étienne didn’t seem to think he was very funny, “That’s not the point, Édouard!”

“Fine, but look, I wore a white shirt – this is as far as I’ll go.” It was a neutral colour and – well, both of their teams had white somewhere in their jerseys.

“Tampa is playing in white.”

There was no winning this one.

“My jeans are blue and my blood is red?” He tried and he only got a death glare in response.

The one thing Edward had always loved about watching a game with Étienne, regardless of whether it was a season or playoff game, was that Étienne knew a lot about hockey – more precisely the Habs and he loved to share his knowledge – especially when he was stressed. (Not that Étienne ever admitted to being stressed about a game.) It was endearing the way he would blabber on and all Edward had to do was listen.

“This has been such a crazy playoff run,” He started, “Like – no one expected them to come this far and it’s been such a boost to the morale of the city. For as much as hockey has its issues, it also brings people together, and I wish there was more of that. Walking around the city these past few weeks has been something else. You meet people and hear their stories – about how they got into the game – where they’re coming from, who they’re here with. It’s beautiful. Kids who are living their first real playoff run. Older people who remember 93, 86 and the runs in the 60s and 70s. It’s been surreal! I’m just – I love these people – my people and the way they’ve just run with this as well. Hoisting orange cones as Cups and living the magic.”

“I know it might end tonight, but whatever happens – it’s been such a great run. I mean, obviously, it would be really great not to get swept. That would just – no. Do you know that the last time the Habs were swept in the final was in 1952? I don’t think the people would be able to handle that. You don’t make it to the final to get swept. Tampa can go and win at home, but to be swept?! No thanks.”

Edward knew all too well about being swept. At least the Habs had – avenged the Oilers. He supposed.

“And, also, on that note, do you know that the Habs only ever lost the cup once at home?”

“Did they now?” Out of their twenty-four that was quite the feat, really.

“Yes! And you’ll never believe what team did it!”

For some reason, Edward felt like he did know, yet the answer escaped him at the moment.

“The friggin Flames! I had to sit and watch Calvin’s stupid face light up like a goddamned Christmas tree when they won. I never thought I was going to live that one down!”

Now he remembered.

To be honest, he’d tried to forget.

It had been the most awkward of times, really.

For starters, Étienne had invited him to come watch the game with him. He’d agreed. If it meant spending more time with Étienne, he would’ve gone anywhere. Had gone to many places.

He’d just – forgotten one minor detail.

Calvin.

This was the second time, really, that the Habs and the Flames had met for the final. The first time had been awkward as well. In its own way. It wasn’t even with the fact that he was – involved with Étienne and Calvin was his friend and could not know about his involvement with Étienne.

It had – more to do with the fact that – the Flames had – impeded Gretzky and the Oilers from getting their third cup. He’d been – resentful to say the least.

Yet, Étienne had hesitated going out to Calgary to see them team, but then Calvin had asked him to convince Étienne to go. As a power move? To show off? He’d never bothered finding out. But, Edward had spun the idea to Étienne, telling him that wouldn’t it be nice to see the Habs extinguish the insufferable Flames at home?

Étienne had agreed.

They’d gone.

The Habs had won.

And Calvin – hadn’t even really cared.

His victory had been in beating the Oilers.

The bastard.

1989, however...

Shortly after Étienne had invited him, Calvin had reached out, saying that wouldn’t it be nice to go out and watch the game in Montreal. He had seats with the execs in their special section and they could make a whole trip out of it! Heck, the Flames might even win the cup! And – wouldn’t that be something! The Cup back in Alberta!

It had been very hard for Edward to tell Calvin that he already had Other Plans. Yet, without missing a beat, Calvin had told him that he should totally tell Étienne to come watch with them and that Edward didn’t need to worry about lodging, as they could share the hotel suite together.

He forgot exactly what he’d ended up telling both Calvin and Étienne, but somehow or other, the three of them had found themselves sitting in Calvin’s section, while Étienne had grumbled all along about having better seats than whatever this garbage was.

It only went from bad to worse as the Flames won and Calvin all but gloated, while Étienne threatened to set the city on fire. It wasn’t that Étienne had accused him of throwing him off, but Étienne had reminded him, more than once, that clearly, because he hadn’t been able to sit at his usual seat, the Habs had lost.

(Again, Étienne was anal about his superstitions and rituals.)

“Well, here’s hoping they don’t lose at home and get swept. Good vibes only,” Edward told his boyfriend before Étienne could get in a tizzy.

“Yes, you’re right. Anyways, it’s sort of thanks to the before last game against the Oilers we’re here anyways. Habs needed one point to assure their spot and that tie brought them to the playoffs, even if they lost in overtime. It made sure the Flames couldn’t sneak in, so, thanks? I guess?”

Edward chuckled remembering that particular video call.

“See, I told you, good luck charm.”

For good measure, Étienne rubbed his head again.

It was hard not to get wrapped up in the game, regardless of who was playing, even if it wasn’t his team. This was a playoff final game and both teams were trying their best to win. Even though the first ten minutes or so made it seem as though Tampa was going to finish this off without mercy, the Habs, somehow, managed to take the lead twice. Étienne kept on saying that some of the ghosts had clearly finally arrived and that some miracle had been cast on them by the three legends watching from the box.

Regardless of what it was that had brought the score to 2-2 with few minutes left, Étienne was clutching his arm like a lifeline and Edward was convinced there would be marks there when his boyfriend would let go.

“Please, please, please, please, PLEASE,” He chanted as the puck went one way and then the other. He clutched Edward’s arm even tighter whenever Tampa got close to scoring and whenever the Habs missed a shot.

It finally seemed as though the Cinderella run would come to the end with that last double penalty, which continued in over-time, yet somehow or other, the Habs managed to kill it and then, by another miracle, or maybe a clever game of pass-the-puck, managed to score in over-time.

Considering the fact that there were only three-thousand-five-hundred people in the Bell Centre, the resulting collective scream made it feel as though the place was packed to the brims.

Edward got swept up in the momentum of it all and found himself standing with all the other Habs fanatics, yelling and screaming.

When he turned to look at Étienne, his boyfriend looked jubilant and ecstatic. It was such a good look on him and it made Edward’s insides warm at the sight. Étienne deserved to feel this happy all the time, really. If there were a few tears at the corner of Étienne’s eyes, it only made him look lovelier and Edward did his best to school his face in the most platonic of smiles.

“They live!” Étienne yelled over the continued shouting, “They did it!” He said, even giddier as he kept on jumping up and down, waving his playoff flag with all the other people in the Bell Centre.

It was magical, really – living a playoff run like this one. He was glad he could be part of it – somehow, even if it was only for the last stretch of it.

“You know, no matter what happens next, I’m at peace. They fought and they’ve kept fighting from day one and – of course I want them to win. God, I want it so bad, but I’m just – really glad they brought it to game 5. And – I like to believe that – that they’ll be back. For game six. I’m just – I’m happy.” Étienne said, voice thick with emotions as they finally managed to step out of the Bell Centre. Some of the earlier euphoria and adrenaline had tempered down and Étienne was a little calmer by now.

“If any team can do it at this point, it’s certainly yours.”

Étienne beamed at him as they walked down the street, away from the crowds still chanting and yelling and celebrating, off the beaten path for a longer way home, if only for some fresh air and a quieter moment to re-center themselves.

“Yeah – you’re right,” He trailed off with a small smile. Étienne made to grab his hand, but knowing that there were still so many people out, he let their fingers brush against each other instead. “Everyone’s so happy – so proud of the city... I hope the feeling lasts.”

Edward made a quick grab for his hand and gave it a squeeze, before letting go. He wanted to tell him that the hockey didn’t matter. That this city was more than just a glorious hockey history. That he was proud of him. Of what he’d done. Everything he’d worked for outside of hockey. For himself. For the city as well. And that he had more worth than he realised. To him. To others. But – that was a talk for later. Right now, it was time to enjoy the moment – bask in it. Celebrate the victory.

“Let’s go home, yeah? I want to celebrate with you.”

Edward nodded and kept step with him as they made their way back to Étienne’s place, where once safely behind closed doors, they could properly celebrate together.

FIN

#pc: montreal #pc: edmonton #edward murphy #étienne maisonneuve #projocanondoko #fic #shoutout to allbeendonebefore for giving me intel on how 86 and 89 woulda played out lamao #the things u realise yrs later once u have a stronger timeline ha ha ha ha

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