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kradogsrats · 2 months

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Schrödinger's King in the Bird Box

Time for a return to the single topic that most torments me in this entire franchise canon: is Harrow in the goddamn bird or not?

Except not really. I'm not going to go over the evidence again. I've done it before. Almost everyone has done it before. It has only gotten stronger. At the absolute minimum, an attempt was made to put Harrow in the bird. That's not really disputable. I admit it. It's over.

This is actually the second time that I've struggled with narrative cognitive dissonance regarding a real core factor of this show (like not "what's the deal with Archdragon reproduction," but something that is clearly supposed to be thought about with the intent that it will eventually make sense), and eventually managed to rotate it so hard in my mind that the way I wanted to see it slipped out of my grasp and I saw it the way it's actually intended. Ironically, I think I may have been thinking about the Ocean arcanum at the time.

Anyway, what previously always bothered me about this question was mainly two things:

It would have a devastating impact on Ezran's character development if Harrow reappeared during s1-s3, but the timeskip and arc of s4-s5 made it so it would also be deeply weird for him to reappear before the show ends.

If Harrow is in Pip's body, both Viren and Pip's subsequent behavior, as well as how Pip is treated by the narrative on a meta level, make absolutely no fucking sense.

But... if Viren doesn't know whether the spell was successful or not? If we are meant to not know whether the spell was successful or not, because it's not going to get resolved in the show itself?

If we accept that the earliest point with any chance of the hooks for this plot being set is late s7—because yes, Aaron Ehasz would do an exact beat-for-beat repeat of Zuko and his mom—that both puts Ezran far enough in his growth for it not to be threatened by the "real" king returning, and keeps Harrow out of the loop for long enough that it doesn't really make sense for him to do anything but step down from the throne in favor of Ezran, anyway. As for Viren and Pip's behavior, if the show isn't going to advance that plot much further during its runtime, there's no reason for us to be constantly reminded of it. The setup has been made, and they can just let it stew because it's not actually relevant.

That being said, Viren's behavior actually does make a lot of sense if "is Harrow in the goddamn bird or not" is a question that is also tormenting him. To that end, I'll be doing some digging here on the nature and context of the body-switching spell, Pip/Harrow's behavior post-swap, and what the hell is going on in the Harrow section of Viren's dark magic dream.

The Spell is Made Up (Unlike All Those Real Spells)

First of all, I think there's been some long-term incorrect assumptions made about the body-switching spell. It's not a known spell: this is Claudia and Viren essentially flying by the seat of their pants... but we rarely stop to think about how that contextualizes the rest of the discussion around it.

The initial plan is to find the assassins and ambush them before nightfall. As Soren points out and Viren himself confirms: if they fail, the assassins will be unstoppable under the full moon and Harrow is as good as dead. Claudia decides to put her mind to that problem, so naturally she stops to flirt with Callum in the library and gets the inspiration for the spell from something he says.

(Fun fact: none of that happens in the novelization. Zero amount.)

She brings the idea to Viren, and they develop the spell from there. It's not really clear if Claudia actually knows whether something like that would be possible, but Viren does know that transferring the essence of a person can be done—he's got a nice little coin collection that proves it.

As for the snake, there's no way Viren "acquired" a two-headed soulfang serpent because he has a book somewhere on how to use a rare, malformed specimen of a dangerous Xadian creature to switch people between bodies. He probably thought "that's weird, but could be useful," or maybe whoever sold it to him just had a great sales pitch. A non-trivial amount of success at dark magic is in having access to rarer and more powerful reagents than your competition.

Anyway, what this means is that Viren has absolutely no idea what success looks like for this spell, particularly when using it on subjects of different species. When he describes it to Harrow, he is 110% talking out of his ass. He sounds like he knows exactly what the spell will do and how, and I think a lot of us kind of fell for that. He needs to sound confident, because if he admitted that he doesn't know if it will even work, with a possible failure condition of "snake eats your soul," well... a) Harrow rightfully wouldn't go for it, and b) he'd look incompetent, which is the worst thing ever.

When he goes to Harrow's room, he casts the spell... but did it work? I think that whatever it did, it did it in a way that Viren can't tell whether it worked or not. Maybe both Harrow and Pip passed out. Maybe Viren just didn't want to hang around for the aftermath—in the novelization, when he exits the room and runs into Callum, his eyes are still black from spellcasting.

Activities of Dr. Pip Harrow, Ph.D.

Probably the thing that has always bothered me the most about the entire Harrow-Pip theory is that yes, literally everything in the lead-up and immediate aftermath of the assassination points to that being exactly what happened... and then the narrative lens of the show completely drops the rope. Pip doesn't even appear in the novelization until Viren's pre-coronation scene, which is funny given his looming presence over half the scenes with Harrow in the show.

Pip appears exactly twice after the assassination—once in s1 and once in s2—otherwise he goes completely ignored. He's not in the background of Viren's office, or the throne room, or Harrow's bedroom. No one ever mentions him ever again. Ezran never mentions him again, in the show or in any supplementary materials. You'd think the boy who can talk to animals might have some interest in his dead dad's beloved pet... but who knows, maybe Pip has always been an asshole and Ezran's actually like "thank goodness I never have to speak to that dude again."

Anyway, in all of Pip's appearances, he behaves like... a bird. A trained bird—Harrow can rely on him not just fucking off—but he doesn't demonstrate human-like intelligence the way Bait does. That being said, Bait is essentially a main-cast character (at least as much as, say, Corvus... maybe even Soren) while Pip is a plot device, and even then it takes until well into the first arc for Bait to show the kind of complex reasoning and initiative that separates him from an unusually smart dog. Pip's human is also a stressed-out king, rather than a rambunctious ten-year-old, so he's probably a bit more sedate overall. I would personally bet, given the way the show has progressed with regard to Xadian creatures, that Pip is as intelligent as Bait.

The point of that is: even if Harrow's consciousness is occupying Pip's body, he's not really doing anything with it. He's pissy, sure:

But is that Harrow's pissy-ness or Pip's? Even if Pip is only as intelligent as a trainable bird, that's plenty intelligent enough for both grieving/confusion that their human is gone and holding a grudge against obvious assholes. Viren cages him, but is that because he flipped out and got bite-y? And was it Harrow flipping out, or Pip? Or is he caged just because Viren's of the general attitude that animals belong in cages? Those who fail tests of love... We just don't know.

A lot of us also, to circle back to assumptions about the spell, have tended to think of a body swap between Harrow and Pip resulting in Harrow flailing his arms around wildly and screeching... but again, we know literally nothing about this spell, nor do we actually know anything about Harrow's behavior after Viren leaves his room. Maybe his body sat catatonic on the bed until Runaan came in and shot him. Maybe Pip, being intelligent, was able to maintain the facade—once everyone's in the heat of battle, it would be hard to notice even significant deviations from normal behavior. Even if "Harrow" appeared to fight only halfheartedly, or give up entirely... well, he hasn't been the same since he lost Sarai. Maybe the spell only partially worked, and only half of his soul is inside Pip, with minimal or no influence over the bird body's behavior.

Viren does appear to take some precautions in case Harrow is alive inside Pip. The cage, for one... but he also has nearly all subsequent important conversations outside of his office. Like I said earlier, Pip's cage isn't rendered in the background of any scene, but since he escapes from Viren's office I'm assuming that's where he's been. Even if Pip was just out of frame in every scene in Viren's office post-assassination through end of s2, the only things he's seen are... Viren eating butterflies, and the conversation between Viren and Claudia about the mirror and her side mission to bring the egg back at all costs. He doesn't know about Soren's instructions to murder the boys. He knows about the mirror and Viren's obsession with it (which he could have known before), but he doesn't know about Aaravos. He may know that Viren stole his seal but only if Viren was stupid enough to stamp the letters with it in front of him (which... look, he could be). The only things he's really learned are that a) his sons are alive, and b) Viren lied to him and the egg is alive.

Now, realistically, if we were meant to hang on to the is-Harrow-in-the-bird plot thread because it's going to be significant within the scope of the show... I'd be expecting to see at least one cut to Pip glowering at some point during all these machinations. If it weren't for the mirror and Aaravos, I'd expect Viren to be yelling all his monologuing at Pip, too. But the show does none of that. Instead, the next time we see Pip, we see him peace-ing out of the show for at minimum the next three seasons, and possibly the remaining two, as well. If Harrow's in there... why? Did he go to find Callum and Ezran himself? It's not actually clear that he knows Ezran can understand animals, so it would be reasonable for him to think Viren is his only chance at ever not being a bird again. Maybe he thinks that chance is gone with Viren's arrest and would rather not spend the rest of his life in a cage. Maybe he really isn't in control of the body.

Back to Viren, though: since Pip refuses to demonstrate any behavior that could be taken as distinctly Harrow's, Viren actually has no idea at any point whether Harrow's in there or not. He doesn't know if Harrow lived. He doesn't know if he succeeded or failed. It's a constant reminder that he's almost, but not quite, in control. Almost, but not quite, good enough to achieve what he wants.

It probably drives him absolutely insane.

Did You Think You Were Somehow Getting Out of This Without Me Mentioning Kpp'Ar?

Just kidding, it's finally time to talk about Viren's dream. We've gone two entire seasons and a two-year timeskip without any mention of Harrow or Pip (though those maniacs dropped the fucking snake basket on us as an incidental but obvious prop early in s4), and then suddenly we get punched in the face by Viren's subconscious.

First, though, I do actually need to point something out in the scene with Kpp'Ar. Bear with me, I promise this is relevant.

Viren sealed Kpp'Ar's soul in a coin 12-ish years ago, and the coin has been sitting collecting dust in his secret dungeon for... some amount of that time. Now he opens the door and finds Kpp'Ar standing there, free—and I will note that I don't believe Viren actually knows how to free people from the coins, or whether it can even be done. His reaction is surprise, followed by suspicion and wariness:

When he encounters Harrow—dead—his reaction is horrified shock, which is fair since the last time he entered the room that way there was no surprise body chilling out waiting for him in it:

Then, when Harrow speaks to him, suddenly alive and unharmed, he drops straight into relief:

Some of this is undoubtedly due to the differences between Viren's relationship with Kpp'Ar and his relationship with Harrow. With Kpp'Ar, after that initial moment of confusion, he's absolutely determined to not show a single hint of ignorance or weakness—this is a trick, or a test, and a passing grade in "light verbal sparring with the mentor you're pretty sure you remember betraying" is a thing that is both normal to want and possible to achieve. For Harrow, who he wants so desperately to call him brother, who he walked into this very room ready to die for, before everything went horribly awry—he not only immediately and willingly goes to his knees, he literally prostrates himself.

... I'll give everyone a moment to get all the innuendo and suggestiveness out of their systems, because that's not the point. This time.

What is the point is that Viren's reaction to Harrow isn't disbelief, but relief. Hope. Kpp'Ar is supposed to be in a coin, and Viren immediately questions how he got out. Harrow is supposed to be dead but Viren doesn't give a second thought to how he's not. Fortunately, Harrow helpfully explains:

Fun fact: back in s1, we don't actually see Viren actually taking action against the assassins. We don't even see evidence that he re-entered the room at all—it's only Soren and Claudia who participate in Runaan's capture.

I haven't actually touched a lot on the complex shit going on for Viren, emotionally, throughout all of this—I mentioned it's was probably driving Viren insane over the course of the first two seasons, but let me elaborate. If Viren successfully switched Harrow and Pip, that means Harrow survived... but he expressed his feelings on the proposal in no uncertain terms, and there's a good chance he will literally never forgive Viren. I don't think Viren thought far enough ahead to consider how to get Harrow into a human body again, but I do think he's dragging his feet on it a little because if he can work things to his advantage—unite the Pentarchy against Xadia and follow through on the war Harrow was avoiding—he'll prove to Harrow that he was right all along. Any chance of that flies out the window with Pip at the end of s2.

If the body-switching spell failed, it means Viren essentially killed Harrow himself. That's the reality I think he grows more and more resigned to over the course of s1 and s2, when Pip remains unresponsive. He had no choice but to take the best chance at saving someone he loved—but this time, instead of saving Harrow, he murdered him.

In the dream, Harrow has not only survived, but credits Viren with his survival. He doesn't just dismiss Viren's show of remorse, but makes his own apology to Viren. He calls Viren brother. After an impossibly long nightmare, everything is okay. All is forgiven. Maybe there was nothing to forgive, in the first place. Maybe Viren was right all along.

Then it all turns sinister with the callback to the coin incantation, and we have a sharp return to reality:

The cinematography here treats Pip a lot more like how I would expect him to be treated in s1/s2 if we were meant to know he was actually Harrow. There's focus actually on him, instead of just other characters' reaction to him. He "speaks"—as I noted in another post—in raspy sounds very unlike his songbird chirps from s1. This is absolutely Harrow as Viren actually left him—even if he's not dead, he's in a warped prison of dark magic, a perverse mockery of himself.

Oh wait.

Harrow-who-is-both-human-and-alive was never an option, and what we've got now is mirror images of Harrow-the-dead-human and Harrow-the-live-bird, and they're going to do to Viren what he did to them.

Now, it's not that none of this makes sense if Viren knows for sure that Harrow is in the bird... but it makes a lot less sense and has less emotional resonance. If Viren knows Harrow survived as Pip, he'd be more likely to question Harrow's human form than his survival—the way he does with Kpp'Ar. He might be more guarded, expecting hostility—which, I will note, is what he gets when Pip enters the scene. Instead, because until now he believed that he actually killed Harrow in his attempt to save him, he's so relieved to see Harrow alive that for that one moment he loses all pride and is ready to beg for forgiveness at Harrow's feet.

Since legitimately none of this makes sense if Viren didn't at least attempt to put Harrow in the bird, we're left with Harrow maybe or maybe not alive, Viren having maybe or maybe not been the one to actually kill him (gonna be a fun one with the Runaan context), and a plotline that is definitely not going to be resolved in the remaining two seasons of the show. I'd be kind of surprised if they even did any more setup for it (like Callum/Ezran finding out it's a possibility, or even a hint drop like Runaan being all "it was fucking weird, he just sat there" or something) outside of future supplemental media.

Conclusion

Either Harrow is alive and in the bird, with the future intent being to do a spinoff story The Search-style, or we're in for a huge bummer of a "actually, it was Viren all along who killed Harrow, therefore Runaan is a good guy and we can all be one happy family" pile of absolute bullshit. Yes, they said Harrow's dead. Harrow's body is dead, we knew that all along. There's a note in the artbook that Viren was actually going to rip the shroud off at Harrow's funeral in order to publicly prove it's his body, because that is an extremely normal thing to do.

The show just treats it extremely weirdly because, even as the only person with any chance of knowing, Viren is in the same uncertain boat as the rest of us. (Actually more uncertain than the rest of us, since he's not genre-aware.) Also it's another chance to torment Viren emotionally, and they'd never pass that up.

Thanks for coming to my absolutely ridiculous TED Talk on this topic, I hope this screenshot now does as much psychic damage to you as it does to me:

#the dragon prince #viren #harrow #pip #for once i was wrong... but now i'm right #oh my god this is so long i'm so sorry

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cf56 · 1 year

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My thoughts on episode 6

SPOILERS for season 3, episode 6 of the Animaniacs reboot

My goodness, this episode was a well-needed pick-me-up! I loved everything about it!

Watching this episode will greatly reduce my potential of being spoiled further, since this is where like 70% of the unmarked spoiler screenshots I've seen come from. People just love posting their out-of-context Warner abominations.

Even from the first moment I saw it, I thought the mini tongue Wakko was kind of cute.

And Yakko heeling his siblings, just like it's supposed to be! I loved the twist of them actually being kind of friendly, just needing an older brother to keep them in check. That's what the Warners should be about.

HE HOLDS THEM BY THE SCRUFF LIKE A MAMMA KITTY!

LOOK AT THE TINY WAKKO HEAD! *melts of cuteness*

And a clever way for them to come back, with the mention of jelly donuts.

Great cold opening. The alien Warners are cute in a terrifying kind of way. But that could also describe the regular Warners just as well, couldn't it?

Let me talk about all of Murder Pals right now.

The first segment had me dying laughing because of how random it was and how it just happened in like 20 seconds. I liked the unobtrusive randomness of all three segments. And the animation.

Groundmouse Day Again was very good. I was genuinely engrossed in the entire plot, which, I'll be honest, doesn't usually happen for me with Pinky and the Brain segments.

I laughed pretty hard when Brain pulled out the calculations for how much wood a woodchuck can chuck. It's definitely a joke that's been done before in other media, but it was such an unexpected trope breaker that Brain would respond to Pinky's "I think so, Brain" with an actual, serious explanation. And just the fact that he also cared about this and already had the calculations put together. A rare moment where Pinky and The Brain are genuinely on the same page.

I had a good chuckle when The Brain went through 20,000,000 attempts to take over the US, and then said he just had to do the same thing for every other country. Say what you will, but the guy is dedicated.

I like how this episode broke down Brain's desire to rule the world. He gets the one thing he wanted, over and over again, but he can't enjoy the benefits. He gets so good at it that he succeeds every time. It just looses all meaning for him, and I believe that's what led to him valuing Pinky more as a friend by the end of the segment.

Although I do wish they had built up to this moment more directly throughout the episode to make it feel more earned.

I thought the thing Brain would need to do to break the loop might be valuing Pinky's friendship or getting a kiss from him or something. It turns out that was indirectly the case, as focusing on Pinky allowed him to uncover the true cause of the time loop, which he would have found right away if he just bothered to participate in Pinky's nighttime routine.

It does seem like Brain should now be well-equipped to take over the world for real outside of the time loop, but I guess most of his plans were time-dependent and had to take place at certain moments on that day to work.

It was an entertaining segment.

And now, my favorite segment of the episode. One of my favorite Animaniacs segments of all time. I had been looking forward to "The Island of Dr. Warneau" since the previews, and this one actually met and far exceeded my expectations.

I like that Wakko's first reaction to being hit with a coconut is to ram the tree with his own head.

Hatless boy

Ratto, Saffo, and Ditto were SUPER CUTE! I know the point was that they're off-brand Warners who are probably supposed to contrast with the regular Warners in a negative way, but I don't care. Hearing the Warner voices be so mild-mannered and cute melted my heart. Hearing them sound so timid in regards to their "brother" also broke my heart.

I liked that the Warners were genuinely nice to them despite probably feeling distaste over their opposite personalities.

"Yep, and get revenge on anybody who hurts your family." Now THAT'S more like the Warners I know.

I LOVED that Yakko keeps a picture of Scratchy in his wallet, and he seemed embarrassed when asked the reason, and the reason is never explained, so it probably does mean what I think it means! He really does care!

And Wakko, of course, has a special love for Scratchansniff and so keeps many pictures of him on-hand. Or, on-belly.

You know I love seeing some Warner history/lore being directly touched on. This is all very accurate to how it actually went down, right down to the detail of Scratchansniff having hair and ripping it out once the Warners showed up.

Imagine fleeing to an island to obsessively make nicer copies of the creatures you think ruined your life, and then those very same original creatures happen to randomly show up on your island because they got flung off a whale watching ship.

I thought it was clever how Yakko got out of the situation by mimicking Ratto's voice.

I loved seeing the Warners and pseudo-Warners unite as a family at the end!

I was terrified that there'd be some twist right at the very end that the Warners would just leave them on the island and reject them as true family, but I'm so very happy they didn't actually do that. Such a heartwarming ending!

The Warners actually killed Scratchy's brother! At least he'll have a valid reason to hate them now.

This segment was so much more than I was expecting. I thought it would just be a parody segment with Scratchansniff standing in as the in-story villain. But, no. It was actually directly connected to the Warners' real backstory and weaved really nicely into their history. I never expected that out of this segment or any segment in the reboot. I'm super pleased with it.

I have no idea how this episode can exist in the same season as episode 8. I don't want to bring in the negativity of yesterday, but I just have to say how much of a shame it is that this season has so much good in it, but I will always have a hard time looking back on it completely positively because of that one moment. You can call that unfair, and it is, but I really can't understate the impact that episode had on me, and I can't ignore my genuine emotions. I don't know how they could make so much genuinely good Warner content and then sour it all with that. It shows that they do understand the characters, but only sometimes? How does that work?

My one major complaint with this episode is, once again, no musical numbers. I've seen 7 out of 10 of the episodes in this season, and in those I've only seen, I think, 2 songs from the Warners. I know the three episodes I haven't watched all have major songs in them, but that's still unacceptable for Animaniacs. Music is such an important part of the spirit of this show, and when there's a truly good song in an episode, it really brightens my mood and leaves me happy singing it over and over again in my head. Last season did so well mixing in great songs on history and geography and science, just like the original did, but season 3 hasn't really done that at all. Did they just forget? I think it's part of why the mood of this season as a whole feels off to me. They should be making use of these legendary voice actors while they have them.

It's going to be hard for me to decide between episode 3 and episode 6 for the top spot in my ranking of episodes for the season so far. Episode 3 had a fantastic song, which episode 6 lacks, and probably better humor. Episode 6 has a more memorable Pinky and the Brain segment, and they really went for my heart by giving us a healthy dose of Warner lore, and some really fun and wholesome moments with the sibs. I think episode 6 just edges out episode 3 for me, but it's a really hard call.

My current ranking of season 3 episodes:

Episode 6

Episode 3

Episode 4

Episode 2

Episode 1

Episode 5

I really encourage you to add to the discussion of this episode if you want, but don't say anything about any of the episodes that come after. Thanks for caring about my thoughts on things!

Yeet the Wakko

#animaniacs #animaniacs reboot #animaniacs 2020 #animaniacs season 3 #animaniacs screenshots #animaniacs analysis #animaniacs spoilers #animaniacs episode 6 #cfposts

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luimagines · 1 year

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Time to Cut the Crap

LAST INSTALLMENT OF THE ENNO CAN’T GET THEIR CRAP TOGETHER SERIES! I’M SO HAPPY!!!! WHO’S READY FOR THIS?!

For those of you who are new to this, this little series has been lovingly written for @cafecourage

Masterlist

First Chapter/ Previous Chapter

Content under the cut!

Enno awoke with a start.

“Beloved. Take care of my parting gift.” The voice of the Fierce Deity echoes around their brain. “I’m so glad to have seen you… one last time.”

Enno rips the mask off and lets it drop to the ground. They're breathing heavily and they’re heart is pounding within their ribcage. They gulp. “What the hell? What the hell?”

Their hand is sore and it hurts to put their weight on it. Shocked by the unexpected pain when they move, they bring up their left hand, clutching onto their injured fingers. Only, there’s no visible injury.

There’s red, sure, but it’s not the same shade of crimson DNA that most people grow familiar with in their lives. Not to mention that it wraps around their finger, laced with a delicate blue swirling pattern. It appears to be a ring.

Enno hides it without thinking twice about it, covering their hand with their other one. “Sky isn’t going to like this.”

They pause. Sky? Would he really care? After all of this? Doesn’t he hate them? Well FD said- Can FD even be trusted? The Fierce Deity marked them!

The realization stirs them forward. They find themself on their feet and storming out of their little hiding spot before they can even think about what they’re doing or where their feet are taking them.

They can’t believe this. They don’t even like the guy and now this?! What is Sky going to think? How is he going to look at them now? God, no he won’t. He doesn’t like them any more. Wasn’t Fierce Deity supposed to be older Sky though? How can they know for sure? Is there any way they can prove it?

They freeze in their place.

They find themself in the middle of Skyloft, seemingly on the way to the Bazaar. The sun is setting but it’s still relatively light out. It doesn’t look like they were gone for too long. Only if you don’t consider three potential hours to be a long time though.

Enno pats their belt loop and lets their blood run cold. They left the mask in the cave! They can’t just leave it behind like that! It’s still dangerous to have out in the open!

Cursing themself for the lack of foresight and their innate impulsiveness, they dive back into the cave and eventually find the mask where it was left before. It looks…faded to a degree. Like a mere husk of what it used to be in a past life. Which is strange considering that it was still as vibrant and as life-like as the first that Time had gotten ahold of it.

Enno stares at it longer. There’s another impulsive idea to try it on again and check on the trapped deity within but something tells Enno, either the lack of warmth or the look of ghastly erasure from within, that they won’t find anything of substance if they were to do that. Enno clips it onto their belt for safe keeping regardless and returns from whence they came.

It feels lighter walking this time around. As if something in the air had shifted. Enno still isn’t sure what they’re going to do or what they’re going to tell Time in regards to the mask.

Their ring finger still stings from the mask left by the Fierce Deity and it drives Enno forward. For some unknown reason, they’re going to attempt to find Sky. There’s no plan in mind, just the need and desire to see him and do something crazy but they haven't the foggiest idea of what they intend to do when they inevitably find the young man.

As it turns out, they needn’t look far.

Sky exits out of the Bazaar with a worried look on his face. He looks to be deep in thought but he too walks like a man on a mission. If only he was looking where he was walking.

Enno spots him and makes a b-line towards him. They walk up to him without saying a single word.

Sky nearly crashes into them and his face relaxes almost instantly. “There you are. We were getting worried. Where were you?”

Enno pauses and feels their brain stall. The Fierce Deity’s words echo in the back of their mind and their whole experience within the mask stops them from forming any more coherent thoughts.

Sky can see the scared, if a bit pale look on their face and takes their arm slowly and gently. “Hey… You ok? What happened?”

“Um...” Enno gulps, feeling the air in their lungs leave them suddenly.”...I…”

Sky takes mercy on them. “This way. Come on.”

He leads them to a small corner of Skyloft and pulls them away from any prying eyes that may have wanted to eavesdrop on them. He looks around just in case and makes sure that neither of them are standing too close to the edge. Sky takes a calming breath and shakes his head a bit, letting his hair fly a bit. He needs a haircut. “Ok. Enno. What happened? You were gone for hours without telling anyone and now you’ve come back like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Enno looks away from Sky, pointedly looking at the ground even though this is what they wanted right? They clear their throat and blurt, “Do you hate me?”

That’s not what they wanted to say.

Sky recoils as if he’s been smacked with five across the face. He looks offended, pissed off even. “What on earth gave you that idea? Enno. I don’t hate you. I don’t think I could ever hate you. But I’m not going to play games or run in circles and I’m not a mind reader. If you want me to leave you alone, I will but-”

“I don’t.” Enno blurts again, looking up at him quick enough to crack their neck.

Sky freezes and waits for Enno to elaborate. They don’t. Feeling a bit put off by the scare and lack of answers, he let out a soft and long breath and furrows his brow. He knows he has to be patient. “You don’t, what?”

“I don’t… want that. I don’t want that. I don’t want you to leave me alone.” Enno bite their lip, feeling small ripples of panic begin to build within them.

Sky sighs and lets it sink in the air as he ponders over his next words.

The panic within Enno surges and rises like waves on the beach as the moon glides across the darkened abyss above. They can feel themself getting fidgety and the lack of his immediate response is only more worrisome.

Sky hides his fists by his sailcloth and by his sides, making sure to meet them head on with his eyes alone. He doesn’t want to seem overbearing or upset but he is frankly feeling as if he’s being toyed with. Never one to cast the blame to others, he intends to hide his frustration and let it simmer down on its own. Still, he has his questions. “What do you want- mh!?”

Enno kisses him.

In their panic, their impulsiveness soars to unspoken levels. They grab Sky by the face and crash their lips against his. It’s short and borderline violent. Pulling back, they take a breath and push Sky’s face away until their arms are fully extended.

Red pours onto the young man’s face as he registers what just happened.

Enno’s face explodes in color and they gulp. “I like you. Ok goodbye.”

They turn to run.

Sky is faster than them and grabs their arm. He spins them around and pulls them flush against him. He takes a moment to look in their face.

Enno is shocked and stunned silent, fully anticipating their escape. They look down and a hand comes up to cover their face but Sky catches that one too.

“Tell me.” Sky says lowly, next to their ear. “What do you want?”

Enno whines in the back of their throat, a high pitched screech of a scream if there ever was one. “I don’t know.”

“Yes you do.”

Another strangled sound.

Sky adjusts his grip, letting go of one of their hands so that he can guide their face back up to his. He lets go of his frustrations and takes another breath. He smiles gently. “I’m not letting you go until you answer my question.”

Enno shakes their face free from his hold but Sky holds onto them still, staying true to his word. This isn’t going to end easily. Enno can deny everything and ruin it further or they could be honest with themselves and throw all insecurities and anxieties out the window for this one very crucial moment in time. If there was ever a time to not think about something, or to stop running away, this would be it. Enno isn’t sure if they have the strength to make the choice.

Screw it. Enno stands straighter and kisses Sky again. One hand grabs him by the clip of his sailcloth to pull him ever closer while the other rests on his shoulder for stability purposes.

Sky is quick to respond this time, wrapping his arms around them. He goes for their hips closing whatever distance may have been left over. He puts all his attention to the way the kiss feels and how they move against each other.

After a while, he cups their face and snakes his hand back to intertwine it with the baby hairs at the back of their neck.

Enno pulls back first to breathe.

Sky follows on impulse, fluttering his eyes open when he doesn’t make contact. He clears his throat and wraps his arms around their waist, lacing his fingers together when they meet. “You already know what I want.”

“I do.” Enno whispers.

A smile graces over Sky’s face and he chances another kiss to the tip of their nose. “And?”

“And?”

Sky raises an eyebrow.

Enno crumbles under the look. “I really like you, ok? Shut up and stop being pretty!”

Sky laughs and lets them go so he doesn’t accidentally spit in their face from the strength of his laughter. “I think you’re the first person to call me that if I’m being honest.”

“Well you are. And it’s dumb. And it doesn’t let me think because it’s distracting.”

“Thank you.” Sky grins brighter.

“Oh my god.” Enno folds and screams again, catching it in their throat so that it’s silenced. “Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?”

“I think you’re cute and smart and awesome and I like you.” Sky answers simply. “And you kissed me too.”

“Shut up.” Enno turns and kisses him again, aiming to get him to focus on anything other than what’s immediately happening.

They pull back once more and Sky grins like a love drunk man.

Enno huffs from the energy they’re spending to keep themselves from falling apart. “Look!”

“Believe me I’m looking.”

“You’re impossible.” They say. “And charming. And smart. And stupid. And pretty. And a hero. Why me?”

“Why not you?” Sky says softly, taking their hand.

“This is only going to end badly.”

“Did someone tell you that?”

“...No.” Enno fidgets with the hem of their sleeve. “I’m not from here. I’d have to leave at some point. And we’ll never see each other again. We both know this.”

“Do we?” Sky challenges. “Do we not even try then? Surely there are options. It’s not like we haven’t been traveling through space and time as it is. We even went to your world for a short while. It’s possible.”

Enno can feel their grip on Sky tighten ever so slightly. It’s not that they don’t want this. But something in them tells them to be realistic. To not get hurt. To see the bigger picture and not fight it.

Sky isn’t like that. And Enno knows it. So even if they think he isn’t listening to them, another voice says that he’s always been a believer, an optimist and someone who tries no matter the odds. This was the man who fought Demise himself and won.

Surely he might have a point.

Enno gulps and can feel tears gather in the corner of their eyes. Tumbled and hesitant laughter flows from their lips. “You’re crazy.”

“You’re worth it.”

“...”

“Fine.” Enno laughs louder. “Oh my god. Fine! You win!”

Sky looks like the cat that caught the canary. He reaches down and laces his fingers with Enno’s and holds them up. “That took a lot of convincing.”

“I’m sorry.” Enno quiets their laughter into broken giggles.

“Nothing to apologize for.” Sky reassures them, tucking a bit of their hair behind their ear.

“I’m sorry for taking so long to get my crap together.” Enno reiterates.

“You’re forgiven.” Sky snorts. “Happy?”

“Very.”

“Good. I am too.”

#lu sky #linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x oc #I had this in the wings for *so long*#but now it's done!#i've been doing other projects :D #I hope you all enjoyed this super indulgent call out

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bluem00n007 · 1 year

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Hello!! Hopefully I didn't keep you waiting for too long. Anyways, here's my incoherent ramble. Your concepts about the effect of imprinting are definitely food for the thought, I love it!! I think my favorite would be the first one surprisingly, even if it's really simple. Sharing emotions with your imprint can lead to some really angsty moments, like the scenario of summoner being kidnapped by the void that you mentioned. Although your third point where an imprinted can't be injured would come in clutch, the summoner is still emotionally effected. The sorcerers would feel all that turmoil, and it just adds on to the desperation and despair while trying to find and rescue the summoner. Also, how did you know that it's canon that imprints can share emotions? I'm really sorry if I sound dumb rn, but I don't think I remember that being mentioned. But either way, spica would still be gigachad for agreeing to imprint with the summoner, he has all my respect lmao.

Also also, regarding the second point, do you have any other theories as to why you think the summoner has so many imprints already? Because although you mentioned the Time Loop Theory, you did say that you pretty unsure about it. I would love to hear your thoughts about it, but only if you're comfortable. And as for the third point, could there be a limit to how much damage can be deflected? Like maybe a slice or a bruise would be easily transferred to the attacker, but what about a critical stab wound or a fracture? Imprints aren't exactly a indestructible shield, just an oath to protect made by the parties involved. If the summoner was critically hurt, it would be pretty angsty if some of the injuries they received were transferred to some of the guide committee in an attempt to sustain their life.

Hopefully this wasn't annoying to read through, and thank you sm for spending time to read through my weird ideas!! Take care!!

Dear annon, did I ever tell you how much I love your thinking? I am telling you that now, I love your way of thinking, it is perfect, so please it is not annoying or anything! I am very much living for the angst headcanons and ideas you are giving me

First let me answer your question about the emotions thing, so when we make a pact with Poll and he goes berserk mode and destroys the lab, the summoner says "I feel he is lonely", Sirius remarks it must be our imprint allowing us to feel his loneliness, hope this makes it clear! (I personally know this because I have replayed that chapter at least 3 times, so no you are not being dumb)

For my theory regarding Summoner, it's a bit hard to say, but I am not completely sure, other than summoner having something to do with Polaris, the Ursa constellations are used to find the position of the Pole star after all, you think this is why Castor said our soul is special and that it isn't monsters the void is trying to summon but Polaris? Like the entire rebellion madoka movie? Ah sorry, so about why we have so many imprints, it's hard to say, even cannonicaly it's an enigma that not a lot of people know about, like my sincere apologies, but I have no theory to give in replacement of time loop, despite not agreeing with it, other than just saying we are someone close to Polaris or his placeholder in the current time, it would help a lot of we had a cannon calender, pointing when Polaris vanished, because I don't buy that he died out of no where, plus this is our second time in bound arlyn, two (ehe) much of a coincidence, Vega had his destiny of being Orpheus, the Greek epic so he was also there with us, the void have done their homework on constellations, huh?

The thing with imprinting partners getting hurt though, I am only basing it off of Poll's exact words actualy, "strangling" is a little bit odd? Like you can just say "harming an imprinted partner is like harming yourself" but no, strangling, so I guess it's more of a hurting your partner will give you a prolonged version of that pain? There must be a limit to it too, unless we are talking about straight up killing your partner, then I guess it's RIP? It would be agsty if summoner's injuries got transferred to guide come and I live for angst TvT thank you, but I don't think it just happens for every random injury, if Summoner's got a papercut it won't randomly appear on the others, more so, someone from the guide committee must cause a direct injury to summoner to get hurt, I am only saying this as such because Sirius seemed fine and ready to fight and Even wore a crop top after destroying the tower of Babili, despite the fact that summoner was knocked out for a good few days and was bleeding, yeah I don't buy his mana healed that fast, especially after chapter 10

So what do you think?

#arcana twilight #arcana twilight theory

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sukirichi · 3 years

Text

black magic [02]

request. arranged marriage + enemies to lovers (sukuna is a simp and lowkey a housewife) + sukuna’s first time with his wife

cw. slight angst, insecurities, lots of making out, virginity loss, fingering, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasm, sukuna worships reader, spitting, cum eating, teasing! sukuna, face-off kamasutra position, soft dom! sukuna, unedited fic, pwp

song inspo. leave the door open (bruno mars)

note. i want a husband sukuna

part one | part two

Sukuna gently takes your palm into his, soft and warm lips meeting your bruised knuckles that have seen years of hard work in exorcising curses like him. Uncanny that he showed so much affection to his enemy by nature, treating you with such care and tenderness that shouldn’t have been so possible for an evil creature like him. You’re supposed to love it, be grateful for it, yet his sweet gestures only irritate you, even more so when he retires to bed just like that without even so much sparing a glance your way.

You’ve been married for a year now that you’ve had enough of his confusing gestures towards you. One moment, he was showering you with love, regarding you like you were the light of his life before he’s walking away the next moment and pretending you don’t exist.

He was so infuriating. He would kiss you and hold you, but never touch you or be in the same room with you any longer than an hour. Even in bed, he’s always making sure his back is turned to you, peeling your arms off of him each time you attempt to cuddle him on times it got too cold. It hurts and dwells dangerously at the back of your mind – it would’ve been better if he got angry at you and announced he despised you, but he never did – that his hot and cold nature bothered you more than anything else.

You’ve eventually had enough that you just stopped caring. Barging in during his bath time, your nostrils flare upon seeing your husband so relaxed in the tub. Even after a year of marriage, he’s so unaffected and unaware by your need for him.

He really doesn’t care.

“Little one,” Sukuna blinks as he sits up from the tub, strong arms hanging off the edges of the bed. You admit; he really was beautiful and a desirable man that you couldn’t help it, couldn’t help but crave the one thing you knew you weren’t supposed to have. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you not want me?” you suddenly demand, tears already streaming down your face faster than you would like. Hell, you never wanted to cry in the first place. “Am I not desirable enough for you?”

Sukuna chuckles nervously.

Oh, great, now he’s nervous around you?

“What are you going on about?”

“Don’t act like I don’t know what you’re doing,” you snap, “Every time we go to bed, you always put some distance between us and keep to your side of the bed. You push me away when I try to reach for you and you never touch me or kiss me on the lips. I-I understand this marriage was against your will, but I’m still your wife and I need you, okay?” chest tightening uncomfortably, you place a hand over your poor, aching heart that is further crippled when Sukuna’s face falls. “I just feel like...you’re sickened by me, like you cannot stand to be with me in the same room as me. It makes me feel like...it would’ve been better if I wasn’t here.”

You don’t know what kind of response you’re expecting from him after your outburst, but definitely not him standing up to loom over you. You respectfully avert your eyes from the sinful image of water dripping down his defined body, but it’s too late and he’s too close already that you won��t be surprised if he can hear your heartbeat pumping frantically.

He was large and imposing, truly a terrifying sight right before you especially with his tattoos that trail and wrap all around his muscular thighs, yet you’re not nervous because he could hurt you.

Rather, you’re agitated because he’s so close, so within reach that if you step a little closer, you could easily find the warmth you’ve been dreaming of for so long.

You’re frustrated because you want him though you shouldn’t.

Just then, Sukuna caresses your cheek and pulls the both of you back in the tub with you above him, and him lazily grinning above you. You gasp, abashed, that your clothes were soaked to the brim and it stuck close to your damp skin until it took the shape of your silhouette. Sukuna, on the other hand, is completely unbothered as he eyes your pebbled nipples poking through the thin material of your nightgown and simply drags you forward on his thighs.

“S-Sukuna—”

“You really have no idea, do you?” he whispers lowly, his long claws carefully tracing down the sides of your jaw. “My innocent, little lamb...the reason I distance myself from you is because every waking day that you are right beside me, my self-restraint thins, and I’m not sure I can hold back a little longer from you taming me,” Sukuna’s dark eyes brims with something unreadable as he holds your gaze. The look he wears is beyond intense that he takes your breath away, literally, and you’re left gaping at him silently. “I push you away because I want you more than anything else, but I respect you and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You-you want me?”

“Clearly, little one, you’re inherently unaware of how captivating you are,” Sukuna says as if if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and you shiver at his words – or from the cold water, you don’t really know. “Stop looking at me like you want me to kiss you. I may not stop once I get a taste of you. Like I said before – I won’t touch you unless you asked.”

You do remember him saying that from your first time together, but your head goes blank, and no words leave your lips even as you mouth nonsense.

Sukuna taps your lips. “Speak, little one. You need to use your big girl words.”

“Kiss me,” you vociferated in one breath, desperately clutching on your thighs. “Please.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to push you away as his eyes narrow into suspicion, but soon he’s tugging at your collar to bring you down for a heated kiss. Sukuna is tugging your robes down until your collarbones are exposed, his tongue and lips leaving yours to leave marks and love bites all over the patch of skin instead. You tug at his hair as you crane your neck to the side, succumbing to the undeniable pleasure his warmth and greediness consumes you with.

Grinding down on his groin, you notice he’s already hard. Hard for you, and this realization makes you kiss him back hungrily as you whimper above him.

Sukuna is feverishly sucking on your tongue and pawing at your breasts the next instant before the spell is immediately broken just as it happened. For before you could reciprocate the same amount of eagerness he kissed you with, Sukuna is already sliding you off of him until you’re on the other side of the tub, left staring at him wordlessly with his lips red and swollen.

“Not today, little one. I think that’s enough.”

You hear your heart shatter into pieces. Pride; it was about the only thing you had, but it seemed even that had been taken away from you.

“You really don’t want me.”

Your voice cracked as your eyes began to tear up.

“No, love, that’s not what I meant,” he groans into his hands, “Believe me, I’d spent enough nights sweaty and frustrated knowing I can’t ravish you and have those lush thighs around me already,” waiting for him to continue, Sukuna sighs and holds you closer, though he could only caress your knee right now that you’re wary of getting hurt again. “This is your first time, okay? I want to make it special for you – you’re not experiencing bliss with me if it happens impulsively with you barging in my bath.”

Something like hope lights up inside you.

“Y-you’ll really do that for me?”

“Tch, brat, don’t go all soft on me now. I wouldn’t suggest testing my patience even further,” he playfully flicks your forehead when you tried to kiss him again, but Sukuna is already tilting his cheek to other side before you could. You would’ve been heartbroken again that he’s refused you, but his words held more than reassurance – and so did his uncomfortably hard cock – that all previous insecurities vanished into thin air.

Sukuna grabs you by the waist to plant your feet on the ground outside the tub, carrying you as if you were nothing more than a ragdoll to him. “Now go and get changed. I’ll fuck you another time.”

“Don’t say it like that!”

“My deepest apologies, little one,” he commented sarcastically with a roll of his eyes, though his smile turned genuinely warm the last minute. “I’ll make love to you when you’re ready.”

He must’ve lied.

You’re annoyed because Sukuna is intentionally avoiding you and acting like you don’t exist. Pissed off, you go into a curse exorcising spree to get the King of Curses out of your mind, reminding yourself that he was vile like them and he didn’t deserve even a second of your time.

Although no matter how hard you tried, your mind still kept racing back to him even as you come back home, bloody and tired when you realize the temple is eerily quiet. Not a living soul could be found around, no servant fretted at your arrival and your husband most definitely did not lurk in the shadows like he usually did. The only sign the temple hadn’t been abandoned yet were the lines of candles trailing down the hall to your shared room with him, and you gasp as you see the petals decorating the bed and rose-scented candles lit everywhere.

Sukuna was nowhere to be seen.

But he was felt as he kisses your neck, his hands untying the knots of your yukata. You stiffen in reflex before relaxing as soon you recognize his scent. Behind you, Sukuna pauses, his lips still in the column of your neck.

“You’re upset.” He wasn’t asking; rather observing.

“Not anymore,” you mumble in response, although you weren’t entirely convinced even as you come closer to the bed, your husband trailing behind with his pinky looped to yours. “Did you do all this for me?”

“Yes. Do you like it?”

“I love it, thank you,” you hide your smile for him, not wanting him to see that it’s so easy to alleviate your anger to him. He has to earn your approval again, so you turn to him with a forced scowl and arms crossed against your chest. “But why were you ignoring me for days?”

You intended to look intimidating, but the King of Curses only laughed.

“You look cute when you’re mad. Plus, it made you want me more than you already do, didn’t it?” he chastised, the implications of his words making you pout in humiliation. Sukuna is quick to step closer to you, cupping your cheeks into his hand, and you hated how easily you leaned into his touch. Nevertheless, you turned away from him, using all your energy to muster your most serious ‘I’m not bothered’ face.

“Aw, don’t be shy, it’s written all over your face, little one,” he breathes on the shell of your ear, hands trailing down to lightly drape your clothes below your shoulders. Unable to hold it back, you end up shivering at his featherlike touches.

“It’s okay. I loved hearing your soft whimpers every time you touched yourself in the bath, thinking that I’m probably not around to hear, hm? You forget I sense everything,” his laugh is mocking yet laced with lust, “From the frantic singing of your heart, the way you tense up a little when I’m around, or the way those beautiful legs of yours clench together each time my robe is a little loosened,” Sukuna dips his nose right under your jaw where his tongue darts out to lick a flat stripe down your neck, and just like that, you’re breathlessly clutching on his white robes that are already unfastened. Damned tease.

“Even the smell of your arousal is enticing me to enrapture you right now, little one. I can practically hear the silent begging in that pretty little head of yours.”

You forgot how to breathe.

“B-but I’m dirty, I just finished exorcising curses.”

“Would it be comedic if I said I am aroused at the thought my wife could easily end me right here and now?” shaking your head at him, Sukuna smiles mysteriously. “But you won’t, would you? You need me too much for that,” he leans closer than he already was before, his lips just a breath away from yours. “Tell me, do you want me?”

“Yes,” you whispered breathily, “Please, Sukuna, touch me.”

“It’s my love to you.”

“Not Your Majesty?”

“Hmm, that is delightful to hear as well,” he says, “But let’s our drop our titles. For now, whatever happens between us is intimately between man and wife. Now go clean up, little one. I’ll be waiting for you once you’re ready.”

You waste no time into darting to the bath, scrubbing the blood and dirt on each nook and crevice of your body until you’re squeaky clean. You’re about to head back to bed when you quickly practice puckering your lips to make yourself look desirable, muttering hopefully flirty lines that would make your husband want you more before calling it quits from the embarrassment you caused upon yourself.

By the time you’ve completely dried and moisturized yourself to absolute perfection that you’re confident of yourself, you find Sukuna emptily staring into the ceilings. “Done already? Someone’s eager.”

You roll your eyes at him. Why did you like him again?

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“Gladly, little one,” he confides, patting his thighs to encourage you to climb onto him. Now that things were actually getting real and your endless dreams would soon become reality, your palms grow sweaty as you settle yourself onto his lap. “You tell me right away if I’m hurting you, you understand? One word and I’ll stop; though I doubt you’ll be in your right mind to want to stop once I’ve had my way with you.”

You don’t really understand much of what he’s saying anymore.

He’s kissing you so slowly, so passionately and you’re both undressing each other that nothing but desire and lust clouds your thoughts in that moment. You’re drunk on the sweet taste of him, his natural musky scent beyond intoxicating for your mortal self to handle. Too lost in the bliss of finally being intimate with him, you don’t realize Sukuna has already pushed your towel down until it pools at your waists. His sharp intake of breath is the only thing that pulls you back to reality as he greedily takes in each beautiful curve and dip of your body.

His stare is so fervid that you grow shy and cover yourself, where Sukuna quickly grips your wrist as a warning. “No. You do not hide yourself from me.”

“Then stop staring too much.”

“Is it a sin to appreciate divine beauty?” he tilts his head to the side and blinks at you innocently. “You are ethereal, my wife.”

Before you could be too flustered to respond, Sukuna fortunately saves you from the embarrassment by kissing you again, though it doesn’t last long before his mouth is trailing from your collarbone and down to your breasts. You mewl as Sukuna eagerly sucks on one breast, the other showered with attention from his rough, calloused palms. Meanwhile, you push his clothes away to expose his strong shoulders which you use as leverage because his ministrations make you feel like you’re losing control over your own body.

Rolling your hips on his erect cock, Sukuna groans through your skin, squeezing your breast hard enough that you can’t take it anymore right after he tweaks your nipple. “Love, please, I need you right now.”

“Patience, little one,” he reminds, “I need to prepare you well.”

“I’ve been waiting for months, Sukuna, I’m sure I’m more than ready.”

“Emotionally, sure, but physically?” he chuckles darkly, “Little one, do you not understand your nimble fingers cannot compare to my cock? I might hurt you if you’re not stretched out enough.”

“Then stop kissing me and start—” you’re cut off with a gasp, your nails sinking down harder into his skin the moment his fingers began to rub at your pussy. “Y-your claws—”

“I kept them for years, but I had to cut them just for you, little one. What do you have to say about that?”

“Thank you,” you offer with a breathy moan, head falling into his shoulder from the overwhelming yet welcomed intrusion. “Oh, Sukuna, it’s too good, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he bites the shell of your ear and tugs at the lobe, basically biting it between his teeth to distract you from another long and thick digit pushing past your walls. “One more?”

“O-oh!” his thumb has now joined the party by rubbing soothing circles on your clit, effortlessly pulling your lips aside with the rest of his digits to expose your sensitive bundles of nerves for him. Sukuna keeps his eyes on yours the whole time, watching and drinking in the face you make – pleasure written all over your features from the swollen lips, pupils blown wide, and desire pooling in swirls of curiosity and eagerness. It’s a face he never wants to forget; a face he wants to see more of that Sukuna eventually lays you down against the pillows, admiring how unreal you looked in that moment.

Hair splayed all over the pillow, legs spread wide open with his hands caressing your core, and a strong arm gripping his with small gasps accompanied by desperate calls for his name to do more, please you more – your words instantly translate into commands.

“You are so beautiful,” Sukuna praises rather angrily, “Never forget that. Each inch of you, fuck, you are the most dangerous mortal, you know that?”

You don’t have time to react before he’s going down on you and spreads your legs apart, keeping them pinned down to the bed. The stretch hurts but he easily soothes your pain by massaging your inner thighs, crawling down to kiss your ankles, then licking all the way up to your knee where he stops for a second, only to happily be on your sopping cunt the next moment. He’s peppering barely there kisses to your inner thighs just on your outer lips, his breath warm and teasing on your heat.

It feels like he intends to ruin you tonight.

“Sukuna, stop teasing!”

“What do you want me to do, little one?” he grins from between your legs, the vibrations of his chuckles resonating deep within your cunt that sporadically clenches right in front of his face that’s shamelessly imprinting your scent deep into his memory. “How can I make you feel good?”

“You know how!”

“You need to tell me so I know. I can’t read your mind.”

“Your mouth...”

Sukuna’s smile grows wider the longer you struggle to find your words, but exactly how in the world could you say such vulgar things out loud? He is far more patient tonight than any other day, however, that Sukuna props himself to his elbows to peer up at you innocently. “Where do you want my mouth and what should I do with it?”

Swallowing the rest of your pride, you finally utter: “T-taste me...down there.”

“Here?” he prods your clit, pulling a high-pitched gasp from you. Your husband’s smirk is nothing short of condescending just before he finally kisses your clit, sucking the bud into his mouth until you writhe before him. It takes minimal effort for someone of his strength to hold your legs in place, his grip just tight enough to be commanding. The thought of being completely in his mercy made your head spin in circles, your chest heaving up and down from the pleasure he was blessing yet torturing you with. “You’re so responsive, little one. I’m honoured I’m the one who gets to make you feel like this.”

“M-more, please, I need more.”

You expect him to tease you further, but your husband must’ve noticed that you’re too edged and decided to have pity on you. He doesn’t waste another second before he’s wrapping his lips around your pussy, treating it as if it were your own lips that always tasted like honey.

Sukuna is completely immersed in the act of pleasuring you with his tongue only, so much so that he’s silent aside from the little hums he lets out while you moan for him.

Unable to care about being too loud anymore (not that you needed to since Sukuna had made everyone go back home to give you both privacy) you find yourself throwing your head back, legs falling open wider to grant him deeper access to your most sensitive parts. Sukuna continues to massage your inner thighs and even drags the back of your knee to rest on his muscular back littered with battle scars and tattoos, the dark markings on his skin flexing with each movement. His eyes are closed and his nose is grazing against your swollen clit that had reddened already, your pussy lips opening up like a new world he had to explore, and explore he would.

Your hands find solace in his hair the shade of gentle sunsets that were often shared in lazy kisses and subtle touches, nails dragging across his scalp just enough to make your husband hiss right between your legs. Something begins to tighten in your belly as you grind your clit onto his face, too absorbed in the mind-numbing sensation of his tongue now poking against your entrance and the past barrier slowly blooming open to welcome him.

With shaking legs and a chest drenched in sweat, pebbled nipples further stimulated by the cold breeze drifting in from the windows, your eyes snap open as that rope snapped deep within your belly.

Your gaze shoots down below you to watch your husband ardently lapping your juices like a man starved. Now this wasn’t new to you – you’ve heard enough about the King of Curses and his bloodlust. Whispers of his thirst and desire to slay entire towns and even feast on mortals’ souls was enough to keep you at bay when you were still a young sorcerer, for it was already a blatant warning that Sukuna would feed on anything and anyone, that his hunger was quite something that couldn’t be satiated.

But seeing him unhinged and a slave to pleasing you has never felt more erotic that you ride out your orgasm, toes curling and legs trembling every now and then from the aftershocks of your high.

Slowly, Sukuna darts out his tongue one last time just to leave a teasing touch to your clit before he’s crawling right above you again. The ceiling is obscured by his large frame hovering over you, arms trapped between your head and his gallant member poking just between your thighs. You end up shivering under him as your husband regards you – with affection, pride, curiosity – gentle in comparison to his true nature in caressing your cheek, both of you unbothered by the slick that meets your skin.

“Are you okay?” he breathes out, watching your fucked out smile bloom into a felicitous grin.

“Perfect,” you mumble, although rather shyly. You’d seen him naked before, but never hard, and never with the intention that soon you’d truly be connected – in heart, in body, in mind, and in soul. The thought makes your heart skip a beat, your eyelids growing hooded as Sukuna absentmindedly traces patterns on the curve of your hip. “Sukuna...you’re perfect.”

Your husband laughs, the sound of his glee contagious that you’re chuckling with him as well. “Have you seen yourself, little one? I think I fall for you harder each day.”

His sudden confession brings about a silence in the room, but it wasn’t comfortable, and neither was it tense. If anything, it destroys any traces of previous hesitation and pent up anger that’s only been formed in the first place due to the fact he was Curse and you a sorcerer.

The nature of your relationship had been paradoxical to begin with, perhaps even beastly, but nothing was beastly about it now as you wrap an arm around his neck to bring him closer to you. And Sukuna was just that – the man, the Curse, the feared King whose simple mention of his name made mere mortals tremble – the same person that somehow understands your silence better than anyone. No words were needed when he could read your mind and knew his way around your heart a little too much, not once leaving his lips on yours as he sits on the edge of the bed and pulls you before him. Both of your skins are hot and flushed, yet you’re greedily touching and pulling at one another, his large palms clawing at your ass to pry your pussy lips open while you drag your nails down his chest.

He grunts into your mouth; the sound deep and masculine that it vibrates all the way down to your core. You gasp into his mouth – your breath immediately swallowed by his tongue that dances with yours – once you feel him slip inside.

The stretch is unlike anything you’ve felt before.

You’ve fought and exorcised countless of curses that pain was no stranger to you at this point, but never had you felt so...alien to a sensation both tragic and addicting. Pulling away to breathe air back into your lungs, your forehead knocks with Sukuna until your noses are brushing against the others, mouth hanging open as your walls struggle to accommodate him.

“Oh, oh god,” you mewl above him, eyes wide open as you witness each inch of his cock disappearing from the motion of you swallowing his length whole. He was big; terrifyingly so, and you shake with fear that you wouldn’t be able to take him or that he might rip you apart. “Su-Sukuna—”

“You’re fine,” he reassures by pulling your cheeks back to him, your delicate face trapped between his rough hands. Although his eyes are dark with lust, there’s a tenderness behind them that placates you. “You can tell me to stop if it hurts. Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

There’s no lie or hesitation behind your voice. Sukuna watches your face carefully to detect any sign of discomfort, but you want this, want him, and the pleasure combined with the tolerable sting only makes you desire him even more. The mere fact that there had to be pain and sacrifice, that you had to place your whole trust in him before you could truly succumb to the pleasure and love that created light and hope in this world was enough for you to want to keep going.

“I’m okay,” you tell him, and Sukuna wipes away the frown on your face with the pads of his fingers.

He allows you to go at your own pace until you’re completely seated on his cock, the heated member throbbing so hard inside you that you think he’s poking and prodding right deep into a place where you could hold him close the most.

It’s too much and too good that for once, you let your walls crash down as you bury yourself in his shoulder. Sukuna holds you closer by pulling you right into his chest, large arms wrapped around your frame while your breasts tease the rugged and taut muscles of his body. Even the slightest movement of you adjusting yourself on his lap makes his cock graze against your bumpy walls that you’re both moaning left and right. As you struggle to make sense of the sensations bursting within you, Sukuna’s self restraint hangs dangerously by a piece of thread. You can tell by how he’s cupping your ass and lifting your body up effortlessly before he slides you back down on his thick pole, that single, simple gesture repeated over and over again along with him bringing his hips back up to meet your warmth sending a scorching heat all over your body.

“Love, that’s, fuck,” you curse incoherently, and upon hearing a profanity leave your otherwise innocent lips makes something snap inside your husband.

Sukuna is gripping onto your hips for dear life as he bounces you up and down on his cock, tilting his head back just to scrutinize your connected bodies. A thick ring of white cream surrounds the base of his cock until it slides down on his veiny cock, sounds of skin slapping against skin and the loud squelching of your pussy even more beautiful than the screams mortals have moments right before their death in his hands. But Sukuna be damned – you felt too good that this might as well have been his death.

“You feel so fucking good,” he praises through gritted teeth, easily manhandling you and throwing you back on the bed where he’s on you in a second. “Look at you, little one, taking my huge cock so well. It’s like you’re made just for me – you want to be with me, don’t you? I would please you, fuck you good every day, yes, fuck!”

Sukuna ended up hitting a spot that equated to uncharted territory, causing you to tighten around him with a sharp cry. “Oh, right there, right there!” you rub your clit for further stimulation, moaning louder when he hoists both your legs on his chest.

He presses your legs and hugs his around his arms, flipping it to the side until your feet are right beside his ears. Sukuna has gone completely feral – his pace and drive animalistic, growling like a predator consuming his prey before he softens, kissing your ankles just as he grips your legs to make them squish together. The sudden lack of space makes your pussy tighter and more sensitive for him that you’re fisting the sheets right beside you, too fucked out to even form a coherent sentence. You’re babbling mindlessly on how good he’s making you feel, completely limp and motionless under him from how deep he’s hitting.

“Please, please, please—” you cry out, reaching out just seconds away from your orgasm with the need to touch him. Sukuna gives in and lets go of your legs until they fall at your side, stretching you out further from when he leans forward to capture your lips in a kiss.

He’s caressing your cheeks and swipes a thumb over your tears, quite nearly folding your half. His balls are slapping against your ass the harder he thrusts inside you, but his hips are stuttering and he’s panting right beside your ear that you can tell he’s close. It prompts you to wiggle under him to wrap your legs around his waist, bringing him closer and clutching his scalp just to have him impossibly close, because even thinking about letting him go sounds too painful, especially now that he’s claimed you as his just as you’ve marked him yours.

“I worship you,” he blurts out with a few final thrusts that has you crumbling under him in a silent scream, your focus completely on his dark, passionate eyes as you came. Sukuna then laces his fingers through yours while he pumps himself inside you, your walls milking him of everything he’s got. “You are divine, my wife, you have bewitched me for eternity.”

“Sukuna,” you call out weakly, and he’s quick to litter kisses all over your face from your whimpers. “Sukuna-I-I—”

“Shh, I know, I know,” Sukuna places a finger on your lips, letting you calm down from that earth shattering orgasm he just gave you. He pulls his spent dick out a minute later and scoops up your cum that’s spilling out from your pussy lips, his gaze never leaving yours the whole while he sucks his fingers inside his mouth. He’s so dirty and erotic that you’re clenching around nothing once more, but he shakes his head with a low chuckle as if he can sense you want more. Sukuna kisses you just to transfer the cum mixed with spit right onto your tongue, gripping your jaw when your eyes widen at him. “Swallow it, little one. That’s just a taste of what I could give to you.”

You don’t know what pulled you to actually swallow it – it tastes bitter and even a little salty, though it had a bittersweet tinge of scent to it that you don’t mind, especially not when Sukuna just stares at you like you’re most his prized possession.

Sukuna is right by your side the next moment. He’s tamed the next moment, pure comfort and bliss from the way he’s tenderly running his fingers up and down the sides of your body like he’s memorizing the feel of you around him. You both don’t say anything as you place your cheek right above his chest, arms locked on his chest in a desperate cling, but neither does he want you to let go. Sukuna threads his fingers on your hair before you feel his lips caress the crown of your head, mumbling sweet nothings right as you’re welcoming sleep.

Until he taps your breast.

“Little one?”

“Yes?”

“We never had our honeymoon, do we?” he queries, and you twist your head to face him as your brows draw together in thought.

“No, I don’t think we did. I pushed you away from me on our first night together, remember?”

Sukuna’s eyes shone with mischief. “How could I forget? You tried to kill me right after our wedding,” both of you share a laugh at the memory, though there were no more harsh feelings or contempt shared, only love, and love only. Sukuna softens under your gaze as your chuckles tinker down to a giggle, your finger teasingly drawing circles on his chest as you bite your lip. And like always, Sukuna knows you just a little too well. “I know that look. What is it that you want, little one?”

“You.”

“Me?” he repeats with a dark chuckle that sends heat right down to your womanhood. “You already have me, little one, your wish has been granted a long time ago.”

Your face burns. “I mean, I want you. Again. One more.”

“One more?”

“Or maybe a lot more,” you pipe up, but Sukuna’s smirk is growing more and more devious that your former tenacity soon dwindles down into meekness. “O-only if you want to. You must be tired.”

“Little one, I’m the King of Curses, did you really think I would be tired from fucking my sweet little wife?” At his words, Sukuna tilts your chin until you’re left with no choice but to be held captive under his lust. He leans down to teasingly bite your bottom lip, and you’re already breathing hard as you feel his hands begin to trail down to your core that’s more than eager to take him all over again. “Like I said, I worship you, and I’m nothing but a bewitched man who would gladly fuck his wife as long as she asks.”

Safe to say, you couldn’t exorcise curses for quite some time.

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aemonds-sapphire · 3 years

Text

Coffee Run - Hawks x Reader (Smut)

Summary: Hawks simply wanted to enjoy his coffee in peace, but you had needs of your own, especially knowing he was entering his rut. You know what they say... be careful with what you wish for, because you just might get it.

Warnings: NSFW. Rut!Hawks. Feral Hawks. Public sex. Breeding kink. Pregnancy kink. Lactation kink (brief mention). Featherplay. Slight overstimulation.

Word count: 3.7k

Hawks was nearing his rut. That much was clear. Keeping up an easy going appearance was what he excelled at, until he hit that particular time of the year. Until he was forced to take that medication that would suppress his primal instinct to breed.

But rarely anything in this world came without bearing unpleasant consequences.

“I’ll just have the usual. Thanks.”

The young waitress then turned to you expectantly. “And you, miss?”

You pondered for a second as you eyed the pro hero sitting in front of you. To anyone oblivious to the changes occurring in his body they might think he was just not a morning person.

An idea popped in your mind all of a sudden.

“I’ll have a strawberry lollipop,” you finally said, causing Hawks to briefly lift his eyes from the phone in his hand. “What? I have a sweet tooth.”

The waitress nodded and walked away. He was still glaring at you, one fuzzy eyebrow slightly arched.

“Just that? It’s not a proper breakfast.”

“Neither is coffee, yet here we are.”

He shrugged at your response, shifting his attention back to his phone.

Coffee was his personal mood booster. It was dangerous to demand anything from a rutting Hawks until he had drunk an unhealthy amount of it.

The sun was barely out, and that was exactly why he’d choose this café. Only a few people would be there, which meant he wouldn’t have to deal with loud fans walking up to him and asking for selfies or autographs... or even hugs. It was perfect to hide from everyone how moody and snappy he could get in times like these.

But you figured he still wasn’t taking the medication. He always dreaded it because of how groggy and lethargic it’d leave him.

“You okay?”

He had his index finger flicking up and down on the screen. “Sure.”

But what Hawks didn’t know was that... well... you knew what why he was acting so unlike him.

Soon after, the waitress came back with a large cup of coffee and your lollipop that you promptly snatched from the tray with a smile.

Hawks mumbled a quick ‘thanks’ and you watched him take a few gulps of the hot beverage, while you removed the wrapping.

He sighed in pure relief as his huge wings vibrated from the instant pleasure. “I really needed this.”

You also reckoned he needed something else.

Sliding the round candy in your mouth, you propped your chin on interlaced fingers, regarding him quizzically.

“Is that all you need?”

The apparent innocent question had his golden eyes meet yours. However, you needed them to travel south, so you parted your lips seductively and dangled the lollipop from one corner of your mouth to the other with your tongue.

Bingo.

Hawks’ eyes dropped to your mouth in an instant, taking in the sight of you skilfully twirling the stick while letting out some lewd wet sounds.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what? I love sucking...” you said innocently.

The cup in his hand cracked lightly from his tight grip, and a faint frown settled on his beautiful face.

“You sure you okay?”

For someone who was able to maintain an wavering smile not matter the circumstances, Hawks really was falling behind his reputation. Maybe it wasn’t wise for you to keep pushing him like this. All the innuendos and teasing would eventually get him to snap.

You kept on sucking and licking the hard candy happily, eyeing your boyfriend with utmost interest.

He took another sip of his hot coffee, and you noticed his pupils were slightly dilated. Undoubtedly, the visual of you sucking on something was a enough to spark his arousal.

“Hmm... this tastes so good...” you moaned softly, fluttering your eyes shut for a brief moment. “Want to taste it?”

When he didn’t reply, you decided to take it up a notch. You kicked off your shoe and moved it to touch his leg.

He arched an eyebrow.

Slowly, you began sliding it up his leg and only stopped once you’d reached his inner thigh.

“Stop...”

You let the round candy caress your bottom lip, making sure he could see strings of your saliva sliding down to coat your tongue. Mustering a bit more courage, you dragged your feet until it reached his crotch.

Hawks was hard as a rock.

“You’re so warm...” you whispered, rubbing your foot against his cock.

You could tell he was about to snap.

“Hawks? Honey, look! It’s Hawks!”

You quickly turned your head to look at a young couple that was approaching your table. It couldn’t be avoided. Even in the early hours there would always be someone who was a fan of Hawks.

Hawks was forced to regain his composure, and you figure it was taking every single fibre in his body to produce his trademark unwavering grin.

The woman seemed a little hesitant at first. “Are we interrupting something? I’m so sorry... we are big fans.”

“You are such an inspiration to us,” the man added with excitement.

“Thank you!” Hawks beamed, his beautiful features never betraying what was going on under the table. “Want an autograph?”

She quickly nodded, rummaging through her purse to get a pen. “Our baby will love you, too. We’ll make sure of that.”

Hawks visibly swallowed. “Baby?”

“Yes! We found out we’re going to be parents last week.”

You side-eyed him closely. Inwardly, you started cackling in delight, knowing far too well this was one of Hawks’ most intimate triggers. It was far too obvious that being in his rut made it all much worse for him

“Congratulations! How is everything going?” you inquired sweetly, applying gentle pressure on his covered erection with your toes.

He shifted in his seat, doing his best to cope with the sudden stimulation coming from you.

The woman seemed taken aback by your kindness and quickly bowed her head while handing the pen to Hawks.

“Oh, the morning sickness can be quite draining, but otherwise I can’t complain.”

Her partner handed Hawks a copy of a magazine that had him on the cover. He blushed awkwardly. “She keeps it in her purse in case we run into you so we can get an autograph.”

“That’s awesome,” he said genuinely, his voice slightly strained as he drew his signature on it. “Thanks for the support.”

The couple retrieved the magazine and bowed to both of you before walking away.

“That is so cool...” you said, twirling the lollipop stick in between your thumb and index finger. “I wonder what it feels like being pregnant.”

Hawks moved your foot away from his crotch. “Bathroom. Now.”

Your mouth fell open at his sudden outburst, sliding your foot back into your shoe. “Why?”

He rose to his full height as his red wings quivered slightly. “I’m done with you.”

Placing the hard candy back on its wrapping, you gulped as you followed his lead. The café had started to get more clients, and some of them shot a few glares at the winged hero.

The waitress was eyeing both of you. “Is everything okay?”

Hawks shot a brief smile. “She’s not feeling well.”

He certainly had a way to have things go his way.

She looked at yo worriedly. “Should I get help?”

Hawks hurried you into the bathroom, before adding. “She’s with the number two pro hero. I’m all the help she needs.”

Point taken.

Hawks pulled you into a small cubicle, shutting the door with a kick. You heard the lock rattle and you took the opportunity turn around to face him. His massive wings struggled to fit inside the confined space, which caused him to look more menacing as they coiled up against his body.

“You’re rutting.”

His pupils were fully blown and you briefly saw something flash in his eyes. “Of course you know.”

“I know a lot of things,” you cooed, dragging down one hand to squeeze him through his pants. “You’re not taking your medication.”

You’d been dating Hawks for a few months now, and you found out that he went through a rut every year by mere chance. It didn’t take long for you to connect the dots after hearing a phone conversation between him and someone from the commission — you assumed it was a doctor —, who insisted that Hawks had to take the hormonal suppressant medication to lessen the effects, allowing him to function properly.

“I don’t fucking need it,” he snarled at you through gritted teeth.

“I think you do... if you’re so willing to fuck me in a public bathroom,” you whispered seductively, giving his cock a gentle squeeze. “I wonder what made you snap... was it the conversation about pregnancy... or—“

Hawks had had enough of your running your mouth, and with little effort on his part, he flipped you over so that you were now pressed against the bathroom sink, a tall mirror capturing your surprised expression along with his feral one.

“No, little bird...” he growled, hooking his gloved fingers in the belt loops of your pants. “I am not gonna fuck you. I’m gonna breed you.”

It was a dark promise, and one you knew he could keep. After all, that was the purpose of a rut: to breed. Every single cell in his body was prepared for this, and you couldn’t bring yourself to pretend this sudden shift in Hawks’ demeanor didn’t make your pussy clench.

Your hands were supporting your weight by gripping the edge of the cold material of the sink, and you tentatively leaned forward in an attempt to brush against his crotch.

Hawks slid one hand to your front, effectively undoing your pants. “You’re ovulating... fuck...”

That caught by surprise. “What...”

He shifted his body on top of yours, so he could nuzzle your neck, capturing your scent.

“I can smell it... fuck...fuck... you need to be bred...”

In one swift motion, he yanked your pants down. Hawks was usually so much more gentle with you during sex; this was definitely something unexpected, but that you couldn’t stop yourself from yearning.

On the other hand, you considered his words for a moment. Did he really mean it? Did he really want to knock you up, or was this just his hormones talking?

Either way, this was turning you on beyond belief, and you decided to egg him on.

“You want to breed me?”

He was nipping at your neck, causing a few of his moans to be heard. You could feel the hard print of his cock pressed against the curve of your ass, and as you bucked your hips instinctively you felt his own meet you halfway, setting a slow rhythm.

“I need to knock you up... I need you tummy all swollen with my baby,” the young man kept mumbling more to himself than to you, but you couldn’t get enough of it. “I need your... your...”

A gush of wetness leaked out of your pussy as you felt him fumbling with his belt. Through the reflection in the mirror, you could see a faint blush settling on his face, increasing his handsomeness by a tenfold — you didn’t even know how that was possible.

“My what...” your voice came out in a low mewl, keeping your hips swaying at a steady pace.

Hawks undid his pants at once, and gave your ass cheeks a few slaps with his leaking cock.

He gripped your hip tightly. “Let me see your tits...”

You kept yourself balance on one hand as the other dragged the fabric of your shirt up, rolling it just above your breasts. Hawks released his cock, bringing his hips forward to have it slide between your round cheeks; you could start to feel the wetness coating your skin and standing your panties as he kept humping you. His free hand moved to grasp your bra, jerking the material down and finally exposing your hardening nipples.

Hawks heaved a deep breath, resting his chin on your shoulder as he looked at your body through the mirror.

“Can’t wait until they get bigger... full of milk... leaking for me...” he brushed his gloved thumb across your sensitive nipple, causing it to harden even more. “I bet it will taste so good... so sweet... you know I love sweet things.”

Your mind was going blank from all the pleasure being delivered to you at once. From his cock slowly fucking your ass cheeks all the way to the way he was glaring at you through some public bathroom mirror while spitting out the filthiest things you had ever heard him utter.

He snapped his hips hard for a split second, almost causing you to lose balance, forcing you to grip the sink with both hands, eyes still fixed on the way your breasts bounced softly along with each shove from him.

Slowly, he dragged his hand to your lower abdomen, massaging it with spread fingers. “Fuck... I need to feel it getting swollen... gonna knock you up so good.”

Streaks of precum were sliding down your cheeks, leaving wet trails behind and sending jolts of pleasure running down your spine.

“Sorry, but I’m gonna make you cum fast,” he suddenly said.

You weren’t really sure why he was apologizing for that, or even how he intended to achieve such feat. Hawks was more than capable of pleasuring women, but even the most skilled man certainly had his limitations when it came to how fast they could make a woman reach her high.

Even so, apologizing for giving someone an orgasm probably ranked up high with the likes of “Sorry, but I’m going to give you a new house” or “Sorry, but I’m going to give you an unlimited supply of money”. Out of all the things he could feel sorry for — like desperately banging you in some public bathroom, for example—, that one should be the least of his concerns.

As if reading the skepticism splattered across your face, he gave you a knowing smile, and before you could even wonder what he meant by that you felt something poking your covered clit.

What the...

“Hawks!”

You didn’t expect desperate Hawks to play fair, but this was on another level. The fabric covering your soaked pussy was being pulled to the side, and in no time a velvety object started proving your pulsing clit.

He was using his feathers.

Now you knew what he meant by making you cum fast, the bastard. The sensation was overwhelming, and you vaguely wondered why he had never tried this before.

“Shh... I need you to cum first, so I can have your pussy milking my cock,” he pressed a kiss on your neck. “Be a good girl and keep your voice down.”

With one hand still caressing your tummy and the other squeezing one breasts softly, you tried hard to bite back your moans as his feather kept stroking your clit as he commanded.

You started panting heavily, drunk in pleasure. “I... I... Hawks...”

Seeing that you weren’t going to be able to keep quiet, he brought the hand on your breast to clamp it over your mouth.

“You’re so ready for me... I can feel the vibrations through my feather... you’re throbbing so much for me, baby...”

And it was the absolute truth. Your were absolutely sure his feather was already drenched in your juices, but you didn’t care at all. A few more flicks and strokes sent your hips into auto-pilot, trying to get more friction.

Long and drawn out moans erupted from your throat only to be muffled by his gloved hand.

You could feel something in your core swirling and shifting and through the haze of passion, you could tell it was the tension building up inside you that was reaching a dangerous peak.

“Good girl... t-that’s my girl... getting ready for me to breed her...”

His dirty talk served as the perfect incentive for you to get closer and closer to the edge. You saw your vision begin to tunnel and suddenly you fell headfirst into the explosion of pleasure that had your arms and legs shake violently, and you thanked the heavens that Hawks’ body was pressed against yours, or you’d have sunk to your feet.

But before your pussy could stop contracting around nothing, you felt your body being pushed forward and in one quick slide, his cock was buried deep inside you.

Hawks’ hips faltered for a second as he adjusted to your tightness. “Fuck!”

The feather brushing your clit stopped its ministrations, and as your field of vision started clearing, you saw it hovering in front of your face. It was completely covered in your juices and a few droplets dripped onto the sink. His hand fell to grip your hip, and your lips immediately parted in a silent scream as overstimulation took over.

“Keep it open... lick... lick it...” he groaned, his voice strained and shaky as his cock endured your contractions.

You extended your tongue out, allowing is feather to drag along it, pooling your wetness on your tongue.

Hawks’ reflection shivered before your eyes at the newfound source of pleasure. “F-fuuuck... just like that...”

His wings fluttered as so did the feather stroking your muscle, and even though your orgasm had already subsided, the never ending stimulation from his thick cock hitting deep inside you was just too much.

“I’m gonna lose it! Fuck!” he nearly cried out, ad you could only pray that no one could hear him outside.

Your knees bucked weakly as he snapped his hips into you once, twice and again closing in on his own release, but the moment you ran your tongue over the sensitive extension of his body you knew he was done for. He bucked up to meet your hips in an especially sharp thrust and you could feel the hot gush of his cum deep inside you, coating your trembling walls, mixing with your own juices.

He hadn’t lasted long, but you weren’t at all surprised, considering how much the vast array of different stimuli that he was subjected to in such a sort amount of time.

A few seconds ticked by, and he finally began pulling out, you pussy reflexively clamping around him as if to make him stay.

“Stop clenching like that before I get hard again...” he warned, giving your ass a soft smack as he slid out completely with a loud slurping sound.

You whimpered softly as emptiness filled you instead. As you were about to straighten yourself, you felt a blob of cum threading to spill, and Hawks promptly kept you leaning forward.

“I didn’t just fill you with a big load for you to waste it all,” and with that, he dragged the tip of his cock along your leaking pussy and pushed it back inside. “There you go... all stuffed again.”

The head of his cock didn’t stay inside you for long, and once he slid out you reached for paper from the dispenser hanging on the wall.

He grabbed your arm. “No.”

“I need to clean myself...”

“No, you don’t,” Hawks whispered sweetly into your ear, and you felt him tug at your panties before letting the fabric slap your over sensitive clit. “You’re gonna be a good girl and keep it all in.”

Your eyes widened in shock. Certainly, he didn’t mean that....

“Hawks... I can’t walk around with your cum dripping from me,” you stated as a matter of fact.

You saw his reflection in the mirror; he had a devious smile dancing on his lips, making your insides coil in sudden realization.

“Didn’t you want me to breed you? Then keep my cum inside your tight pussy,” he began, planting soft caring kisses on the side of your neck in between. “Think you can do that for me, beautiful?”

Feeling your panties sticking to your swollen lips with the aftermath of both your juices and drops of his cum made a shiver run down you entire body.

You nodded once.

Suddenly, he bent over slightly to grasp the waistband of your pants, quickly dragging them up your thighs.

“Time to go,” he huffed as one of his gloved hands brushed along his unruly golden locks of hair. “This was just meant to be a quick coffee run.”

There was a faint smudge of pink crossing his nose and resting on both his cheeks. He looked positively less tense, with his blush being the only indicator that he had just emptied his balls deep inside you.

He unlocked the door and exited first, but not before shooting his Hawks-like smile at you. “I’ll be going ahead to pay and deal with the fans.”

You chuckled as the door closed, and turned to look at your reflection in the mirror while adjusting your clothes. “Well... don’t look at me like that. He’s impossible to resist, especially like this...”

After you were done washing your hands, you took a few steps immediately feeling a few drops of cum dripping onto your panties. You clenched your pussy hard in the hopes of preventing more from spilling.

This was not going to end well.

Taking a deep breath, you walked out and were met with the waitress. “Oh! Are you alright now?”

Yeah, I just got fucked hard and I have cum leaking from me. “Yes! Thank you, and sorry for leaving like that... I really wasn’t feeling well.”

She nodded in understanding, stepping aside to let you walk into the lobby only to see a loud commotion of people piling up around something. Big massive turfs of scarlet feathers quickly gave it away and you smiled fondly.

Hawks.

A few girls standing nearby were giggling to each other, catching your attention.

“Oh my... he’s so much more handsome up close,” one said with a dreamy sigh.

“His wings are so pretty...” the other murmured.

Yes. Hawks had that effect on nearly everyone he crossed paths with. In one way or another, people had the tendency to fall fo him and be drawn by his quirky personality. Even if at the end of the day, once he got home, you could see the wearing effects of having to keep up with this society’s standards.

As the crowd began to disperse, he waved a hand at you.

“It was so nice to have you here, Hawks,” the young waitress blurted out as you two made your exit. “Please come again!”

The number two pro hero bowed his head and gave her a thumbs up. “I’m sure I will. Very soon,” he winked at you.

Very poor choice of words.

Masterlist

#hawks smut #hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x you #mha hawks #bnha hawks #tw: breeding #tw: lactation #tw: pregnancy #takami keigo #mha smut #bnha smut #hawks scenarios #hawks imagine #hawks headcanons #hawks x y/n

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whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years

Note

Heyy can I get some headcanons or a scenario where Masky and his gf are both proxies but neither of them know about the other so one day they happen to bump into each other or something and they both figure out the other is a proxy. Sorry if I explained that badly but I love your writing and I hope you have a great day!

~From sparkle anon

(I sadly can't use the emoji right now because i'm on a computer)

Masky and SO Are Both Proxies & An Awkward Meeting

Being a proxy is WEIRD. For one, you're only like a half proxy. You come around when it's necessary due to your skillset.

So you're only a proxy part time. Ha. Part time proxy.

Hiding this from Tim has been absolute HELL.

Every now and then, your group comes around at the worst time.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing-" you say as you attempt to hide your group members in the window.

You often tell Tim you work really weird hours.

He tells you the same thing.

It works out well in that regard - neither of you are waiting for the other.

You never would have guessed that Tim was as clumsy as you though.

At least, that's what you tell him. You're clumsy! That's how you accidentally cut your thigh and got bruises on your chest.

It's normal!

Can you believe that you believed HIM when he said he was just as clumsy???

Weird.

Your world gets thrown for a loop when you and Tim are talking on the phone. "Hey, where are you?" You ask.

"Some boring work party," Tim says, a sigh on his lips. "Why? What're you up to?"

You shrug as you walk into a crowded bar with your group. "Girls night," you reply. "I was thinking after this that we could watch Netflix?"

Tim smiles and then pinches the bridge of his nose. "Don't know when I'm going to be home, could be out kinda late," he says as he eyes Kate and Jeff down beer after beer. He leans against his corner, trying to hear you as best as he can. "I can try?"

You smile as you walk underneath Laughing Jack's long arms as they reach to pick up BEN from the other side of the bar. "That's all I need to hear," you giggle. "I love you," you say.

Tim watches the sea of people, catching familiar heads.

You keep walking, unaware you are literally in the same room as Tim. Your group is walking towards the counter.

Tim is in the corner, still watching.

And that's when he sees you.

The line goes quiet.

"Tim?"

No answer.

"Tim?"

Your intuition screeches for you to look to your right.

Your eyes widen.

"Love you too," Tim awkwardly finishes, hanging up the call without even looking at the phone.

The two of you stare at each other for far too long, right as Laughing Jack sneaks up behind you, his long arms snaking around your waist and lifting you up, laughing maniacally all the while.

"LJ! Put me down!!" You cry out, your group members laughing as Tim stands up, ready to defend you and feeling a tad jealous.

"And leave you in such an uncomfortable situation?" He giggles, eyes darting over to Tim. "I think not!'

You hiss and slap his face, making him roll his eyes and plop you back down on the floor with a huff. "You are absolutely no fun!" LJ's gaze shoots over to Tim. "And neither are you, Masky," he spits like venom.

And just like that, LJ is off to probably annoy the other Jack, EJ.

You and Tim finally find the strength to meet each other halfway. Boy oh boy is this awkward!

"You're a proxy?" Tim says, almost offended at the notion.

And you're a proxy?" You retort, hands resting on your hips.

Tim scoffs and runs his fingers through his dark hair. "I can't believe it."

You sigh and find budding interest in the floor. "Yeah, me too."

Luckily the awkward air between you is stopped by Jeff, Kate and now Toby drinking everyone else under the table. It's loud, rowdy, but the silence between the two of you speaks louder than anything and anyone else.

#masky #masky x reader #masky headcanon #tim wright #tim wright x reader #marble hornets #marble hornets x reader #tim wright headcanon #jeff the killer #kate the chaser #ticci toby #laughing jack

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wearywinchester · 3 years

Text

Safe

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When a hunt goes south and you wind up taken, Dean is always there to find you.

Requested by @randomwriter1021: “Could you do a dean x reader where they are on a hunt and the reader gets kidnapped/ tortured and Dean saves her and it all ends in some fluff? I know it's kind of overused but I love it so much. (You are such a great writer and I love all you work)”

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: implied torture, injuries, blood, angst, guilt, fluff

There were a number of things Dean feared in his lifetime, a handful at that. They didn’t revolve around his own safety, they didn’t revolve around the materialistic things he’s got in his live. He didn’t hold himself in that high of a regard. His greatest fears revolve around the family he’s got left, the friends and loved ones he’s got left.

His greatest fears revolved around you.

When you’d gone missing on that hunt, one he didn’t even want you on in the first place, he felt as though his heart had fallen to his stomach. If it weren’t for the way it’d been hammering in his chest like it’d never had been before, if it weren’t for that grounding him to reality, he just might have lost his mind.

He went through a flurry of emotions within seconds it felt like— rage, devastation, fear, more anger. He nearly tore up the motel room in initial fury at the thought of you being alone somewhere, some grimy demon in your presence. The thought of them laying so much as a finger on you had him seeing redder than red and if Sam hadn’t brought him out of it he’d have trashed the place in a blind rage.

He was angry. Angry at himself for not arguing with you just a little bit more on staying back this time. For not sweet talking you out of it like he knew he could. He was angry at the fact that he’d let himself get so close to you, because if he hadn’t, you’d be safe. But he knew he couldn’t do that, he couldn’t put a mile between himself and you even if he tried.

You were his weakness and this is what the end result was.

That’s when the guilt flooded in, hard and fast. The very same anger that sat heavy behind the fact that he’d let his walls down and let you in had simmered there. He felt that if it wasn’t for him, you’d have a happier life, you were better off. He felt guilty, guilty and angry that he was the poster child for hunting. That just about every monster out there, yet to be killed, had his name in their mouth. Every demon knew Dean Winchester, every demon had a desired interest in Dean Winchester, stopping at absolutely nothing to track him down.

He hated that he was some novelty that every monster out there, from bad to worse, had known of him.

Maybe that’s why he fought his feelings as hard as he did. He knew that’s why. That’s why he bickered on every little thing with you since the two of you were just twenty and figuring out the true reality of the hunting world. That’s why he strived to get on your nerves just as much as you got on his. He thought maybe, just maybe if he used enough wit and sarcasm in his every word that it’d keep that barrier he fought so hard to keep from crumbling. It was a valiant attempt, but it was one that he knew was failing him.

It failed, and this is what was to come of it.

The time that had gone by was agonizing, every possibility of every fate you’d had flashing through his mind in an excruciating loop. He drove around for hours in search of abandoned buildings, leaving Sam to research possible leads in that town he’s come to hate. He wanted to leave and never come back but he wouldn’t do it until he found you. Sam couldn’t talk him into helping out with research, he knew to stop asking after the first try.

And it’s that very guilt that floods him harder than the first time when he finally finds you.

That demon was dead and gone without so much as another word out of its mouth once he knew he’s got the right house, and he was strong-willed and angry as he barreled through that house.

The moment he lays eyes on you, that feeling in his chest, the anger boils over and sears him from the inside out as he sees you slumped in that chair looking absolutely miserable. He feels he doesn’t deserve to be the reason your eyes light up in that moment. He feels he doesn’t deserve to be the cause of your relief, because if it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be there.

The guilt is incessant, ripping him to shreds at the sight of the scarlet smearing across your cheek, a track of it having run down your forehead in a singular drip. It gnaws and preys on him at the tears in your sleeves and the scuffs in your boots, all too telling of the way you’d struggled and fought with all the venom in the world like you always did.

When he felt guilt, you felt relief.

“Dean!” You said, trying to make sense of whether or not this was reality or some sort of dream the past two days had conjured up.

He crossed the room in a matter of a few strides, quick to rid you of the rope around your wrists and ankles. You were sore, boy you were sore, having been stuck in that chair for the better part of 48 hours. You saw the worry in his eyes and the guilt filling his every move as his hand settled on your face, calloused and warm as his gaze bounced across every inch of your face as if to assure himself it was really you, that you were really there. He was awed, in a moment he’d gotten lost in as his thumb swiped over your cheek, a moment he’d been pulled from at the feeling of your arms tight around him.

“I got you, sweetheart,” he said, huffing out a sigh of relief, the weight pressing heavy on his chest having lightened up now that he knew for a fact you were okay. “I got you.”

That very feeling still ran deep, sitting heavy in his heart as he’d settled down in that motel room with you later that night. You were freshly showered, not without Dean fussing over you on the other side of the curtain, insisting on sitting on the toilet seat with a frown and crossed arms because he’ll be damned if his lets you out of his sight. Not now, at least not for a little while.

All your wounds had been tended to with the utmost of gentle care, his jaw tenser than ever as he worked with feather light touches, too afraid to cause any more pain. There were fewer than you thought and more than he’d like, something even so much as a scratch having the anger and upset bubble in his stomach.

Even after that, you still couldn’t hate him, you never would, you couldn’t hate him the way he felt he deserved.

“De, you gotta stop frowning now. For me,” you say, lifting your head from his chest to see he was in fact frowning.

He looked down at you, tired green eyes softening once he meets your gaze. “‘M not frowning.”

Your lips purse and the softest of smiles tugs at the corner of his mouth, and it’s then that you sit up a little bit more. You pretend the action doesn’t hurt as much as it does, you pretend for his sake just so you can lean up and press a kiss to his cheek. One that melts away some of that guilt and anguish that surrounded his heart. A kiss that turned to two, two turning to another as he turned his head to look at you with all the love in the world.

His sigh is soft, breath fanning warmly against your lips in a silent show of the emotions he’d felt in that very moment. His forehead pressed to yours in that moment, your nose bumping his as his eyes fluttered closed.

He knows. He knows there’s no way you could hate him even when he feels he deserves it most. He knows you’ll love him just the same as you did last week, just the same as you did when you’d first said it ten years ago. He knows you’ll love him tomorrow and the days coming after that and he can’t quite grasp how you would, but he knows.

You kiss him softly, sweetly, one that makes him melt just a little bit more as the tension in his posture loosens just a bit. That same tension in his jaw lessening when your hand settles on his cheek. It’s your laugh that has him curious, soft and sweet as he pulls back to look at you.

“What?” He says, swallowing as his own curiosity trickles in.

“You looked awfully heroic today, De, if I say so myself,” you start, “a handsome one at that.”

He chuckles softly, half humorous and half bittersweet at your words. “Sweetheart, I ain’t a hero. Hell, I’m not even the sidekick.”

“You’re my hero, Dean. Always have been,” you say, dipping back down to lay on his chest.

His smile is soft as it sits pretty on his lips, his hand running over your head and smoothing down your cheek, thumb rubbing back and forth over your skin and a pattern of comfort that puts you at ease. He refused to make you privy to just how he’d been feeling inside, even though you already knew. But he refused, because this wasn’t about him. It was about you and he didn’t want that on your shoulders.

But he was content in that moment, some chick flick on the motel tv as you tucked yourself against him. For the first time in the last two day you felt safe, the worry in his mind dissolving for now. He wouldn’t let you out of his sight, not for a little while, but this was a moment to rival all others.

He dips down and presses a kiss to your forehead, a silent I love you, the softness of his smile and the roughness of the beginnings of his stubble pressing into your skin. He was your hero, he couldn’t believe he was your hero. He’ll take it, the mere thought of it sitting contently in the forefront of his mind as the tips of his fingers smooth over your skin in a comforting loop.

You were safe.

—

Tags: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @dean-is-sams-apple-pie @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @agalliasi @lanea-1 @campingmonkey @deandaydreaming

#dean winchester #dean winchester angst #dean winchester oneshot #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester imagine

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arrowflier · 3 years

Note

I wish you would write a fic where the gallaghers + kev & vee find out about ian's 87% comment and they all give their opinions and ask why mickey, ian's husband who's been a part of ian's life for nearly eleven years only gets 87% of his heart, if the other 13% goes towards his toxic exes and why since they're not in his life anymore, ian explaining himself and ends with ian taking the comment back so mickey has 100% of his heart

I decided this was perfect for Gallavich Week Day 5: Fix-It! Thanks as always to @gallavichthings for hosting💖. Also on AO3.

Eighty-Seven Percent (Anatomy of a Heart)

It was a normal morning in the Gallagher kitchen.

That is to say, it was chaotic.

Carl and Liam sat across from each other at the narrow table, tossing dry loops of off-brand cereal at each other over Franny’s backpack, which lay open between them. The girl herself was running circles around them both in her pajamas, Debbie chasing after her with a stern face and a frilly dress held in outstretched hands.

“Come on, Franny,” she muttered impatiently as her daughter evaded her again by diving under the table, “just put on the dress!”

Mickey laughed when Franny ran to him instead, trying to hide behind his legs where he stood by the brewing coffeemaker. Ian ruined her attempt by swinging her up into his arms and twirling her around until Debbie snatched her from him, resulting in an angry shriek as Franny writhed in her hold.

“For fuck’s sake, keep it down in here!” Lip hissed, coming in from the living room where Tami had just gotten Fred settled in his play pen. “If you get Fred crying again, I swear I’ll fucking end you all.”

If anything, the kitchen got louder as everyone there chimed in in their own defense.

Mickey just snorted as he grabbed two mugs and got to pouring the fresh coffee. “Good luck with that,” he offered to Lip, amused. “You get one Gallagher going, you get the whole fucking pack.”

Lip glared at him, opened his mouth the say something undoubtedly scathing and most likely regarding Mickey’s place in the family, when Carl laughed and chimed in from the table.

“Funny, man, that’s what Trevor said to me and Ian at the station yesterday.”

The room went quiet.

Or maybe it just seemed that way to Ian, who could see the way his husband’s back immediately tensed at the familiar name, the way he gripped the handle of his mug a little too tight and poured the coffee a little too high before setting down the pot with a hard clack.

“Trevor, huh?” Mickey asked, voice deceptively mild, and Ian winced behind him.

Carl didn’t get the memo.

“Yeah, you remember him, right?” he checked. “He still works at that youth place, came in to post bail for some kid when Ian was bringing by lunch.” He shrugged, tossed a handful of cereal into his mouth. “We chatted a bit,” he mumbled as he chewed.

Mickey gripped the edge of the counter, knuckles going white under his tattoos. “Funny,” he said quietly, “Ian didn’t think to mention that.”

Ian sighed, ignoring the eyes of his family on their quickly unfolding drama. They’d been fighting a lot lately, a lot more than they used to, and today had been shaping up to be better, damn it. Now he had to do damage control again instead of enjoying a quiet day in with his husband.

“We’ve talked about this, Mickey,” he started, a tad bit exasperated. It must have come through in his voice, because Mickey’s shoulders went up. “Trevor’s not a bad guy, and I’m not gonna avoid him if I see him around.”

Mickey released the counter to grab his coffee again, taking a long, scalding swallow. “Right,” he said finally, not looking at Ian. “Not a bad guy at all. Just wanted to leave your ass rotting in jail when you couldn’t be his poster boy anymore, that’s all.”

“Mickey…” Ian warned, but it didn’t stop him.

“Tell me, Ian,” Mickey mused, turning to face him with hard eyes. “How much of that thirteen percent belongs to him?”

Fuck. Not that again.

“Wait, what’s he talking about?” Debbie was the one to ask first, voice cutting through their palpable tension. She’d even stopped trying to force the dress over Franny’s head in the interim, allowing the girl to escape up the stairs unscathed. “What thirteen percent?”

“Oh yeah, he told me about that,” Lip butted in. “Said Mickey got all bent out of shape cause Ian still thinks about his exes, or something, right?”

Ian closed his eyes against the hurt in Mickey’s as his brother revealed that he knew about their squabble. Fuck his family right now, seriously.

“Not quite,” he gritted out, but when he opened his eyes again, Mickey had schooled his face back into disinterest.

“No, that’s just about it,” Mickey confirmed. “Got my nose out of joint because Ian, here,” he gestured at Ian with his mug, ignoring the hot coffee that splashed over the side, “said I only got eighty-seven percent of his heart.”

Someone whistled, low and long. Ian couldn’t tell who.

“It’s not that big a deal,” he insisted yet again. “My whole life is a fucking shrine to you, Mick. If my heart was a room, there’s be posters of you on every fucking wall.” He took a step closer, until Mickey’s mug pressed into his own chest, leaving a wet spot on his shirt.

“You really can’t let the others have a little space in that room? Not even in the bottom drawer of a dresser that nobody uses anyway?”

Mickey was still, and silent. Then he spun around and slammed his mug back down on the counter, shoved past Ian, and stormed off up the stairs.

“Where are you going?” Ian called after him.

“To clean out the goddamn drawers!”

It was quiet in Mickey’s wake, and then—

“Dude, that’s fucked up,” Carl said frankly, and Liam nodded in agreement, eyes wide.

“Did you really say that?” Debbie asked, sounding horrified, and before Ian could answer the back door slammed open.

“Morning neighbors!” Vee greeted as she came through, Kev on her heels. She was holding something, a dish covered in foil, and a carton of juice hung from Kev’s hand.

“We brought you guys some…” Vee trailed off when no one even looked at her, noticing the tension in the room.

“Uh,” she voiced, confused, “what did we miss?”

Carl answered, still looking at Ian in disbelief. “Ian told Mickey he keeps stuff from his exes in a drawer, so Mickey’s up there looking for it.”

“Oh, that’s cold man,” Kev breathed, and Ian exhaled.

“It was a metaphor,” he muttered, and Vee heard him.

“A metaphor for what?” she asked, curious.

“For the thirteen percent of Ian’s heart that belongs to other people,” Debbie revealed, and Vee set down her dish with a clatter.

“You said that to him?” she clarified, and at Ian’s reluctant nod, shook her head and turned to Kev.

“You ever say shit like that to me,” she said firmly, “I’ll cut off thirteen percent of your dick.”

—

A few long minutes later, after he had finally escaped his family’s inquisition about the state of his relationship, Ian made his way upstairs, alone.

When he got to their bedroom, Mickey wasn’t actually going through their things. He was just sitting on their bed, back to the wall, spinning his wedding ring round and round on his finger. Next to him, balanced on their folded blanket, sat the little box with the fancy ones they used in the ceremony just so they wouldn’t have to take theirs off.

Ian’s heart beat harder. That box had been sitting safe in the bottom drawer of their shared dresser.

The one that nobody used.

“Hey,” he said softly from the doorway. Mickey didn’t look up.

“You okay?” Ian asked, and that at least got a response.

“Do I look fucking okay to you?” Mickey returned, eyes on his knees.

He didn’t. Not really. He looked haggard, and upset, his hair spiky where restless fingers had combed through it. Ian couldn’t see his eyes, but he had a feeling they were rimmed in red.

Ian let himself into the room, sat opposite Mickey on the bed with his feet still firmly on the floor. He reached out to trace a finger over the rings in the box, and then the ring on Mickey’s finger.

Mickey let his own hand fall away when he did.

“You know that’s not how I meant it, right?” Ian asked, suddenly desperate to hear Mickey agree. He needed to know that Mickey understood, that just because he remembered his past, it didn’t mean he wasn’t dedicated to his future.

But Mickey just shrugged.

“Not a lot of ways you can mean it,” he said, and shit. Ian had really fucked up this time. “Either I have your whole heart or I don’t,” Mickey continued, “and I don’t. So,” he shrugged again, “whatever.”

Ian took a moment. A long one. He thought of Mickey’s reaction the first time he had said it, when he was mostly just teasing. The way he had been shocked to think that Ian still had fond thoughts for other men. And he thought of his family downstairs, each one more fucked up than the last, all in agreement over the severity of his error.

And to be honest, he still didn’t quite get the uproar. But maybe that was because none of them got his side, either.

“You’re right,” he began, “you don’t.”

Mickey tensed further, pulling away from him on the bed, but Ian wasn’t done.

“You have all the good bits, you know,” he continued. He went to rest a hand on Mickey’s chest, saw his stiffness, and pointed at his own instead.

“You have all four chambers,” he told him. “Atrium and ventricle. You keep my blood moving, keep it useful, keep me alive. And you have my valves,” he added, trailing a finger side to side to point to the right spots as he spoke. “Mitral and aorta, pulmonary and tricuspid.” He smiled. “You keep me going in the right direction.”

Mickey was softening, he could tell, the tension seeping from his limbs as Ian droned on. He kept going anyway.

“You have all my arteries, Mick,” he whispered. “You’re in all my veins. You said I was under your skin, once?” Ian laughed. “Well you’re under my skin, too. And in my muscles, and in my blood.”

“And the others, they’re like…” he hesitated, searched for the right words. Better words than he had used before. “They’re like cholesterol,” he settled on, “plaque. Or…like the scar tissue from a triple bypass, the parts that don’t work anymore.”

Mickey’s lips quirked, despite himself, and Ian counted it as a victory.

“You have a lot a heart surgeries, Gallagher?” he questioned softly, catching on.

Ian smile widened, and he reached out to take Mickey’s hand. This time, Mickey didn’t pull away.

“Maybe a few,” he admitted. “And maybe I’m better for it.”

He lifted Mickey’s hand to his lips, held it there.

“I don’t mind the broken bits,” he told his husband. “The pieces they left behind. Because you pushed through them every time, and made me healthy again.”

Mickey fidgeted, and nudged himself off the wall to settle closer to Ian’s side.

“Alright,” he allowed, “I get it.”

“Do you?” Ian asked earnestly. “Because I want you to, you know.” He dropped Mickey’s hand to hold his face instead, gently stroking a thumb over his cheek. “I want you to know that that thirteen percent, it doesn’t really matter. All that matters are the parts that are you.”

"I chose you, Mickey," he murmured. He reached out blindly for the spare rings in their box on the bed, worked one free. Slipped it onto Mickey's finger without looking away from his eyes. Mickey's hand clenched around it, around Ian's hand, and held tight.

"I married you," Ian added. "Because I love you with every real part of my heart, every little bit that works."

“All eighty-seven percent?” Mickey prods with a soft expression, leaning forward until his nose brushes Ian’s.

“All eighty-seven percent,” Ian confirmed, and kissed him.

#daily speedwrite #gw2021 #fanfic #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #gallavich #fix-it #gallagher family #albeit briefly

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gentlemancrow · 3 years

Note

14: “I’m screwed” shippy JMart :) 💚

Ehehe this one got away from me a little bit! But ask for shippy Jmart get a gushy mooshy Crow! Please enjoy! ; w ;

“I’m screwed…”

Martin watched helplessly through the slats of the yellowed blinds on Jon’s office window as his entire life went up in flames. He dimly recalled some trite old saying about seeing one’s life flash before one’s eyes before the moment of unceremonious besmirching from the cruel mortal coil, but for him it was more of a hysterical repeated rewinding of every single bumbling misstep that had orchestrated his imminent demise.

From the moment he decided he had just enough time before work to pop into the Tesco for the usual bouquet of flowers for his visit to his mother later in the day, to the snap decision to get the one made of tulips, bright crimson, orange, and yellow like a flame, rather than the usual white lilies, all the way up to entering the institute, Elias stuffing a file for Jon in his already laden arms, and then the chaos that had erupted as he attempted to deliver it, he lived it all over again. First there was something about the kettle being on the fritz, and obviously since he used it the most frequently, clearly he knew how to repair errant electronic kitchen devices. He was halfway through chastising Tim for false equivalencies in his logic when Sasha had breezed past and asked for a report he’d supposed to be finished with the day prior, and somewhere in the snarking with Tim and the flailing over his dereliction of duty the flowers had been abandoned on Jon’s desk and the file tucked under his arm instead.

By the time Martin realized he was missing something bulky and crinkly and fragrant it was too late. Jon was already in his office, tatty messenger bag still looped around his chest, forgotten, staring at the fiery bouquet on his desk with the scientific method scrolling visibly through his pupils as he regarded it like a corpse on an autopsy table, hand in a fist with his thumb pressed to his lips. Martin had never wished harder for some sort of horrific creature of the darkness to strike the institute again and just devour him whole this time to put him out of his misery.

“You’re what, mate?” Tim’s adjacent query only intensified that desire.

“Tim! SHUSH!” he squeaked, grabbing his friend by the shoulders and hauling him out of the line of sight from the office window.

“Easy there, big guy!” he laughed, “What’s all the hullabaloo?”

“I’m SCREWED. Big time,” Martin moaned, burying his face, which had been bright scarlet since the moment his hubris had roosted, into his hands, “See those flowers in there? I bought those for my usual trip to see my mum this afternoon but somehow between you being an idiot and me also being an idiot and forgetting to finish that report I sort of… left them there… by accident…”

Jon, meanwhile, had finally set his bag down and had circled his desk like a vulture. He reached out with delicate fingers like forceps and pinched the very edge of the card to inspect it, which, unfortunately, only added to the mystery with its coquettish blankness, as Martin had yet to fill it in. Tim watched, nonplussed.

“So? What’s the big deal about that? Just go explain it to him and I’m sure he… Oh. OH,” he cackled as realization dawned on him, “Yeah, nope you’re screwed.”

“Thanks…”

“Ahh, don’t sweat it. The man’s so thick I’m sure he thinks it’s just a prank or some continued spooky attempt on his life or something. The absolute last thing he would think would be that you of all people would…” Tim stopped himself in the withering blue glare blazing at him from behind round spectacles, “Anyway, again, this is Jon we’re talking about. He’ll just treat it like some weird cosmic mystery until he burns himself out on it or the next one shows up.”

“Y-Yeah but-“

“Just go explain! Unless you want to watch him wriggle about it like a fish on a hook all day. Which I am diametrically unopposed to, by the way, sounds absolutely hilarious.”

Martin winced, hating the idea of being the missing chunk of code that caused Jon’s brain to glitch for the remainder of the day, and sucked in a breath between his teeth.

“No, no you’re right,” he sighed, “Just… no flowers at my funeral if he kills me, okay?”

“Kate Bush songs only, got it, yep.”

Martin rolled his eyes, not dignifying that with a response, and shuffled on mechanical feet to the closed door of Jon’s office. He rapped lightly a few times before pushing his way in, smiling sheepishly at the head archivist who had clearly just unceremoniously flung himself in front of the mysterious bouquet to hide it from view.

“Martin!” he barked, “What in the hell are you-“

“Uh, just needed to talk to you for a second.”

He closed the door behind him

“Oh, uh… about wh-“

“About those, actually,” Martin confessed through his teeth, pointing, mortified, at the coy spray of flaming tulips peeking out from behind Jon’s hip.

He whipped around to look at them, then back to his assistant, then back to the flowers again, the blush that only ever seemed to find the tips of his ears glowing like two carmine rosebuds there.

“…You?”

That unreadable earthy brown gaze, somewhere between wilting regency heroine and venomous snake ready to strike with fangs bared, harpooned Martin directly to the heart.

“No! God no! S-Sorry!” he yelped, flailing his hands defensively in the air, “I-I mean they are mine, yes, b-but I-! Th-They’re for my mum! I-I try to visit her in her care home if I can on Fridays, and I always bring her some flowers! I was supposed to be dropping off a file for you, but then Tim was hounding me about the broken kettle and Sasha needed that damned report and I was all mixed up and I… I forgot them here. On your desk. Your desk of all places. I still have the file and um… T-Trade you? Hah…”

Jon’s finely sculpted brow shifted from pinched, to bemused, to a strange, sorrowful relief as Martin finished lamely in falsetto and he chuckled under his breath.

“Ah… right. Right! I thought for a second someone might have um…” he snorted breathlessly, “Hah, I knew that was a preposterous notion.”

The metaphysical harpoon still in Martin’s chest shattered in icy shards of anguish as his heart collapsed under the weight of itself.

“Wh- Jon, is it really that preposterous a notion someone might want to bring you flowers?” he asked, crushed.

Jon flourished a flippant, elegant hand.

“Come on Martin, this is me we’re talking about. I’ve never gotten flowers once in my life. I’m not the kind of person people think to buy flowers for. It’s not a big deal.”

“Well then let me be the first!” Martin insisted, his mouth and heart moving in tandem before his brain could stop them.

Jon’s brow creased again.

“What? Good lord no, I’m not going to take the flowers you bought for your mother. Who is also in a care home, mind.”

“I’d much rather give them to you.”

The skeptical expression marring Jon’s face did little to hide the blush flourishing at the tips of his ears again.

“Look. We’re friends now, aren’t we?” Martin elaborated shyly, “Friends can send each other flowers. And honestly? My mum doesn’t even like them… no matter what kind I bring. They usually end up being for her nurse instead. So I… I think they’ll have a much better home with you.”

A tiny smile quirked the corner of Jon’s mouth, snipping an invisible thread that softened his entire face into something innocent and full of wonder.

“I see. If you’re sure, I suppose I could…”

“I’m very sure,” Martin replied without hesitation, “Just tell people an old friend sent them out of the blue, or you have a secret admirer or something!”

“Well I don’t know about all that, but-” Jon chuckled, smiling softly, “Thank you. Just the same.”

Martin looked up, just for a moment, and met Jon’s gaze, letting the piercing erudite wood of it lay bare his fluttering heart.

“You’re welcome…”

Jon shifted in the beat of ensuing silence, his eyes flicking away from sky blue radiance to shift his shoulders back into a professional square.

“You uh, said you had a file for me?”

“Oh! Yes! Right! I-I will go fetch that file for you indeed and uh-! Oh yeah! Make sure you snip off the ends of the stems a bit before you put them in water. Helps them last longer,” Martin offered, snapping out of his enchantment and already slinking backwards to the door, “Oh and also! When they start to go, I’ll show you how to press one in a book, so you can keep it, if you like!”

“I’d like that very much, actually.”

Martin smiled, nodded, and saluted awkwardly as he escaped Jon’s office and closed the door behind, leaving him in private to wait until he was sure no one would see. Once he was certain, he preciously gathered the tulips into his hands and brought them to his nose, breathing in the field bright scent of his very first bouquet from a secret admirer.

#the magnus archives #TMA #JonMartin #Jmart #jonathan sims #Martin Blackwood #crow writes #Ask drabble #Bowtiesandfireflies #A red tulip means a confession of love hurrhurr

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dreamingofaizawa · 3 years

Text

Powerful Ch. 3

Yakuza! Shouta Aizawa x Fem! Reader

*Mafia AU*

Warnings: Misogyny (not from Shouta), a dagger, kinda fluffy

Word Count: 3k

Author's Note: This took too damn long but here we are. Definitely coming out with another part or two, but the next one is gonna start at a huge timeskip so yeah. That'll be fun.

Anywho, Enjoy~

For Reference, this is the dress I describe in here.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 4

For your second night with Shouta you find yourself lost in thought, staring out at the stars. The stress from before the meeting never disappeared, only delayed. Now it’s all catching up, and your brain is struggling to sort everything out.

Shouta could be on the receiving end of some very misogynistic and traditional clans’ anger very soon. You’re relieved that your future husband is nothing like them, but the backlash he could be getting just by bringing you to a meeting so soon after the announcement is frightening, not to mention some irrational clans may decide to split off and find a rival Yakuza to adopt them. Even so, that’s probably the worst of the outcomes. It’s unlikely you’ll have to worry about either of your safety, though there is still a small chance.

For the second time Shouta wraps his arms around you, surrounding you with his scent and body heat.

“I hope this won’t become a habit, little one.” He presses his cheek to the side of your head, kissing your temple gently. His presence is calming, helps your overactive brain slow down.

“I just needed space to think.” He hums, the sound reverberating through your body.

“What could you be thinking about so late at night?” You don’t really want to tell him, but you figured it’s better than keeping it all in.

“I just worry about the backlash you’ll be getting after the meeting today. This organization is a traditional one, and women have always been kept away from the violent and criminal side of it for centuries. To suddenly name an onna-oyabun, and a woman that previously held a low rank at that, you’re bound to feel some sort of repercussions.” He squeezes you gently, kisses your temple again.

“That’s what you’re worrying your pretty head about? I’ll be fine, little one. Let’s go to bed.” He’s right, you suppose. There isn’t a lot that can affect him or his position, so there isn’t a lot you need to worry about. You nod, taking your weight off of him to go back to the room. You’re a little surprised when he picks you up again, scoops you off your feet and carries you to bed. He tugs you into him just the same as the night before, and once again you fall asleep to the soft thrum of his heart.

The next morning you’re woken by Shouta again. This time you don’t immediately pull away, instead choosing to bask in his embrace a few moments longer. It feels like you’ve known Shouta for years rather than hours, having seen some of the most intimate and private parts of him, and all you want to do is dig deeper. But of course, there’s time for that later.

“Come on, little one. It’s time to wake up. We’re going to see your parents today, and then we’ve got another meeting to attend.” You hum lightly then push off of him, taking a glance at his handsome face before getting out of bed to prepare for the day. You choose a dress you hadn’t worn in a while, one that felt like it would fit today’s events, a flowing black sundress with a halter neckline. Simple black heels pair nicely with it, as well as a small black clutch purse.

You aren’t anxious about Shouta meeting your parents. They aren’t as traditional as most, ideals and views closer to Shouta’s. All parties involved gave their bows in greeting, even Shouta, and brunch went by without a hitch. It wasn’t the usual cringey romcom scene where the parents ask ‘why do you love our daughter’. In fact, they know that the marriage is strategic. Of course, Shouta had made his thoughts clear, that he intends to ensure the union is enjoyable for the both of you. His honesty made a small smile worm its way onto your face, though you managed to hide it well enough.

Soon you’re on the road again, en route to the second meeting. You aren’t too surprised that Shouta already has two scheduled meetings back-to-back after the gala, he is a busy man after all.

The venue is another restaurant, this one not quite as high-end but just as beautiful, the entire massive building shaped like a circle and a koi pond around the perimeter. A bridge is all that connects the sidewalk with the building. You and Shouta are guided through by a host, and out a back door where another bridge connects to a separate island in the extended pond, the structure enclosed with sheer beige curtains.

Again, conversation abruptly stops when you enter. You’ll have to get used to it, you suppose. You sit, and the meeting begins. The subject is mostly territory disputes, bargaining for territory extensions or swaps with the others, all of them trying to work out strategies that benefit not only themselves but other clans as well. You keep silent throughout, listening carefully and learning, taking information and analyzing it. There must be someone Shouta doesn’t like in the meeting, because when the most important details are worked through, he excuses himself to the restroom once again.

You wonder, briefly, why he’d choose to play the same trick a second time in a row. If he does it too often his plan would become transparent, though one could argue not doing it enough would be just as easy to read. You don’t know how often he excuses himself from these meetings, so you decide to leave it in his hands.

Fortunately for you, it would seem no man here is willing to speak about your presence. It’s been almost ten minutes and none of them has said a word to or about you, choosing instead to discuss territories a bit further. Though you were beginning to question why Shouta hadn’t yet returned. Surely one would get suspicious, and one did, glancing toward the main building. It was then you all shifted your attention to Shouta, who stood at the opposite end of the bridge speaking into his phone. So that’s why he’s taking so long.

And unfortunately, that meant these men were relatively safe.

“So what’s the woman doing here?” It was barely a whisper, but you could hear it even over the sounds of the pond. A glance up shows the blonde to your right had leaned over to the man next to him. He’s much younger than the man from yesterday, maybe in his mid-late twenties, his hair clearly not natural. The one he’d whispered to flicked his gaze up, catching your own, and shouldered the blonde who subsequently looked to you. He cracks a cheeky smile, a poor attempt to cover himself really.

“Ah, Onna-oyabun, it’s good to finally see the Black Dragon’s wife-to-be.” It would seem news travels fast, and the blonde is much less bold than the older man. You crack your own smile, a sickly sweet show of teeth that hid a venomous bite.

“The woman has a name. Please, do not be afraid to use it in discussion. And I will tell you exactly what I told the previous oyabun who questioned my presence. I am here because Shouta wants me to be.” His smile doesn’t falter, but his eye visibly twitches at your response. It’s almost amusing to see his composure slip. It’s less amusing when he glances back to where Shouta is still on the phone.

“With all due respect I’m not afraid, I simply do not feel the need. And my question was not directed at you, but at my associate here.” He loops an arm over the shoulder of the man he’d asked, the dark-haired man wide-eyed and nervous. You aren’t sure how to answer his quip without rising tension, but Shouta made it clear you’re to be commanding a room just as he does, so you choose to strike a nerve and stir the pot. For added effect you let your face drop into a deadpan, tilt your chin up just a hair and glare.

“Most would feel it necessary to use a person’s name or title when discussing anything regarding them, especially in their presence. Therefore I can’t help but feel you may not have any respect for me when you clearly should.” You could see the muscles in his jaw clench as he ground his teeth, his nostrils flaring with his anger. You nearly let a smile crawl onto your face at the satisfaction of knowing you’d angered an asshole like him with only your words.

“Maybe I don’t respect you. What are you going to do about it?” The man still under his arm stiffens, a hand slapping the blonde’s chest, his eyes locked on the entrance to the room. Shouta stands there, but the blonde seems to either not notice or not care. You aren’t given time to answer his rhetorical question.

“Nothing. You can’t do a thing about it, because you hold no power over me.” He’s elbowed this time, the dark-haired man trying harder to get the blonde’s attention off of you and onto the man he should be fearing right about now. To be fair, Shouta stands almost behind the blonde, who sits to your right, so it isn’t hard to believe he doesn’t see him. You just let him dig his own grave.

“And you hold no power over me because you’re a woman. A woman out of her place and on the wrong side of business, let alone holding a rank much lower than mine.” The man beneath the blonde’s arm had given up, choosing to bow his head down and stay silent. It’s Shouta who speaks next.

“I believe it’s you who holds a much lower rank than her.” The blonde’s face goes pale, his shit-eating grin dropping faster than a sinking stone.

“In case you hadn’t heard the news yet I’ve assigned her a title, and I expect you to use it. She may have asked you to use her name, but you should address her as Onna-oyabun any time she is brought up in discussion, regardless of whether or not either of us are present.” He strides up behind you and places a hand on your bare shoulder, just like yesterday. You can’t help but feel his positioning is on purpose, physically placing you in front of him.

“Are you ready to go, little one?” You nod, rising from your seat and taking a small bow signaling your leave. Shouta lets a hand rest on your lower back, guiding you out, but you overhear the same blonde whisper under his breath. You’re definitely not meant to hear it.

“The Dragon can’t always be around to save you, brat.” You both freeze in your tracks, Shouta’s eyes wide and nostrils flaring with anger. Before he can turn to react you lean in and whisper in his ear.

“My turn.” He raises an eyebrow at you, then nods, crossing his amrs and leaning against the beam at the entrance. You pivot, pinning the blonde in place with a glare. If looks could kill, he’d be in a casket. Slowly, you begin a steady pace around the table.

“I do not rely on Shouta to help me in these situations. In fact, I could just as easily take a piece of your tongue myself.” You’re on the opposite side of the table now, still taking long, slow strides and glaring down at the man.

“But it is so glaringly obvious that you lack the same level of intelligence I hold, and therefore I would feel guilty to rob you of a muscle that you clearly haven’t learned to use properly,” you stop, standing stock still behind the blonde, “However.” In one swift movement your dagger is stuck in the wooden table directly in front of the blonde, your manicured fingers curled around the handle delicately.

“Should I hear another demeaning or degrading word out of your mouth, I will not hesitate to stain my fingers with your blood.” He doesn’t seem to be reacting at all, whether he’s afraid or not you can’t tell, but you don’t let that affect your performance. You lean in, your lips nearly grazing the shell of his ear.

“You probably wouldn’t even get to taste my blade, but I don’t mind taking my time if you want to savor the tang of steel.” You yank the blade from the wood and sheath it, straightening your posture.

“Had Shouta chosen another woman for his wife you may have been able to actually hurt her feelings with your childish words.” You turn, striding back to where Shouta holds his hand for you to take.

“Unluckily for you, I’m just as volatile as my other half. Be grateful that either of us are merciful. You get to keep your tongue. For now.” It’s cathartic, letting out your anger like that. It’s unlikely that the threat will get you any sort of respect, but fear works just as well in your favor. Respect is something hard to find and even harder earned as a woman in a man’s world, but fear works better against an enemy that dreads change. You can’t help but smirk as you walk away from the chaos you left behind, and as you glance up you see the faintest smirk worming its way onto Shouta’s face.

____

His chest swells with something akin to pride as he waltzes away from the restaurant. He was wrong to assume you were averse to violence, had taken your level-headedness and cool temperament to mean you are not a violent individual. To assume you were either incapable of violence or unable to handle the intensity was obviously a mistake on his part. Watching the blonde freeze up and pale under your hard gaze was extremely satisfying, and he had to admit seeing such controlled rage and sharp words pour from you was enjoyable and, among other things, wildly attractive.

Shouta thinks he should let you handle these situations more often, let you have your fun, maybe even plot to have you purposely go just a little too far and have him reel you back in. Maybe then people may start to understand that you aren’t to be treated lightly, you aren’t just a means to an end, just a glorified housewife. No, you’re much more than that and if it takes bloodied words and bloodier actions to get it through some thick skulls, well, he’s sure you know he’s willing to go there and farther.

But for now, he’d settle with the occasional threat of taking a body part.

____

Once again you stare out at the stars, thinking about the day’s events. You’re almost bouncing on your feet, adrenaline still flowing through your veins. You feel light now, knowing you can take control of an escalating situation. Whether or not you can do it all on your own isn’t a real question. Of course you could do it without Shouta present. His existence alone is enough to ward off any violence directed at you. But it’s your own actions that determine how people will perceive you.

You let Shouta control the first meeting incident, mostly because you had no clue what was going on and no information to work from. Now that you know Shouta is listening and that there’s a purpose behind his absence, you can use it to your advantage and weed out the worst of the bad apples. With that information, and confidence that Shouta will not reprimand you--but will in fact support you--for getting mouthy with said bad apples, you could let loose some of the rage that made your blood boil. It’s freeing, taking entitled men off their precious pedestals and knocking them down a bit.

Shouta wraps his arms around you for the third time, burying his face in your neck and breathing in your scent. He kisses you lightly, feather light presses of his lips against your skin. It really does feel good, being so close to someone.

“I thought this wasn’t becoming a habit.” You sigh and lean into him.

“I’m not quite tired. Honestly I’m thinking about today. I’m still on an adrenaline high just replaying it in my head, the thrill, being able to finally get a word in.” He chuckles, squeezing you a bit tighter to him.

“I’m going to assume you’d never really been allowed to do that sort of thing before.” You nod, a small smile curling your lips. Up until now you lacked any sort of standing or power, and the rush is amazing, for lack of better words. Shouta hums then nips at the shell of your ear, his voice sultry and deep.

“Well if you’re looking to burn energy I think I could help you with that.” Your breath hitches, not prepared for such a suggestion. For a second you believe it, believe he’s really suggesting what you think he is, but you can feel his hands moving and before you can react he’s digging his fingers into your sides, making you giggle uncontrollably.

He’s laughing with you, enjoying watching you try to squirm from his grasp. He releases you, and you run over to the bedroom and duck under the blanket in an attempt to hide, but he only laughs.

“You silly girl, now you’re trapped!” He finds your waist through the thick blanket and doesn’t relent until you’re gasping for air and crying for mercy. He stops, finally, and pulls the blanket off your head. Your face is flushed, your hair splayed wild over the sheets and your chest heaving for oxygen. For a moment his mind drifts to dirtier thoughts of a similar expression he’d like to see. He pushes those thoughts away as you beam up at him, your smile reminding him of sunshine. Rough fingers brush away the hair that had fallen over your face.

“Are you ready to try sleeping now, little one?” You lean your head into his hand, nuzzling your cheek into his palm. The way he’s gazing down at you now, you know you’d never felt so adored in your life.

“Let’s sleep.” He lies down and you get comfortable on top of him, resting your head in the crook of his neck and wrapping your leg around his waist. His arms lock around you, holding you in place and he kisses the top of your head.

#shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x fem reader #shouta aizawa bnha #shouta aizawa mha #shouta aizawa #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta x fem reader #aizawa shouta bnha #aizawa shouta mha #mafia au

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americxn · 3 years

Text

Run - part 2

warnings: violence word count: 2300 a/n: as requested. btw you’re all so sweet, can you hear me crying??

Kai’s grip around the back of your neck was unforgiving as he hauled you out of the car, the grit of his driveway biting into your knees as you lost your footing and fell. Hissing in discomfort, you let him pull you up, both of you wordless as you let yourself be dragged up the front steps of Kai’s house. The door was kicked open by Kai and you were shoved over the threshold, somehow managing to stay upright. You could make out quiet voices in the living room to your right, voices that fell silent as Kai slammed you to the hard wooden floor, landing a harsh kick to your ribs that left you gasping on the ground. And then you were being dragged again, Kai’s grip unrelenting as it tangled in your hair once more and you were pulled into the living room. When he let go, helping you to the floor with a shove, you were able to lift your head, meeting the cold stares of the cult members as they leered down at you, all of their faces painted with distaste. Your hands began to shake, knowing full well that the jealously and anger of the other members might well be allowed to turn physical at Kai’s order. Kai seemed to realise this too and he smirked, stepping forwards so that his scuffed shoes were mere inches away from your face. You didn’t dare move, your laboured breathing filling the silence of the room. “Let me have a turn, Divine Ruler.” One of the men to Kai’s right spoke gruffly. It was silent for a moment before the sound of skin on skin impact thudded through the room. You grimaced, looking up slowly to see the member on the floor, cradling the side of his face and Kai sneering down at him, shaking out him knuckles. “None of you get to touch her.” He hissed. “I just want you to get a good look at her and keep it in mind to compare how she looks in a few days time. To remind you,” your shoulders shook violently as he raised his voice, “what happens when you scheme against me.” Footsteps sounded down the hall at the commotion, Beverly appearing moments later in the doorway. Her eyes landed on your cowering figure on the floor, filling with desolation before quickly becoming vacant. Her face went slack, her expression becoming as uncaring as the men crowded around you. You knew she had to be careful to mask her emotions, otherwise she risked revealing that she had been the one to warn you of Kai’s pursuit of you. But the possibility that she hated you as much as everyone else in the room still stung as it cut deep. You watched in silence as Beverly’s eyes drifted across the space, slightly to the left as you followed her gaze, every thought eddying from your pain-clouded mind as your stare settled on one of the cult members. Liam. Satisfaction filled your head as you regarded him coldly, glad to find that he looked just as terrified as you felt. A little smile formed on your lips. And then your body snapped into motion, moving before you had a chance to process your thoughts. You were on your feet in less than a second and upon the boy in two, the crowd parting with a cacophony as gasps as you lunged at the boy, knocking him to the floor and clawing his face, leaving deep marks in his skin with your nails. Blood spilled instantly, dripping down his pale face in stark contrast. The others scattered and started shouting but none of the moved, too scared to interfere as you yelled in Liam’s face, managing to land a few hard punches on his face. “You lying prick,” you screamed at him as his arms rose in a weak attempt to protect himself. You felt a strong pair of arms loop around your waist and you were pulled off Liam. To your utmost gratification, his face was bloody. You bucked in Kai’s grip as he pulled you away from the trembling boy who was being helped to his feet by two other members. “Let go of me.” You snarled at Kai, fighting to turn around in his arms, wanting to hurt him too. To hurt everyone in this room. “He lied!” You declared, trying to dig your feet into the smooth wood floor as you were hauled out of the room, Kai struggling to lift you up and flip you over his shoulder as you screamed insults at him, clawing at his back as he walked the both of you up the stairs. Your fists bashed against his back in desperation, but to no avail. Kai kicked the door to his bedroom open before throwing you down on the bed, leaping upon you immediately. You were once again pinned beneath his considerable weight and he snarled at you to “stop fucking moving” as you writhed on the bed beneath him, your brain screaming at you to throw him off and go after Liam again, the boy who had lied at your expense and had gotten away with it. To spill more of his blood. “Y/N, STOP.” You stilled your movements, pulling feebly at your arms as they were pinned above your head. “He lied, Kai.” You insisted, voice trembling in rage and fear. His face was cold above yours but you caught the glimpse of uncertainty that flashed in his eyes. “Why the fuck would I want to kill you? Why would I want to lead the cult? I can’t do that. I don’t want to do that and I know that you realise too, please, Kai,” you rambled on, “Liam came to me last week asking me to help him get out of the cult and I didn’t want him dead so tried to help him excuse himself from the meetings, Kai, you know I would never hurt you, I-” “Stop,” he cut you off grimly as your eyes filled and overflowed with hot tears that stung as they worked their way down your face. “You have to believe me. Please.” The last word was carried on a sob. “I said stop.” He repeated, firmly. You fell silent, chest heaving with the force of your weeping that you didn’t try to conceal. “You’re telling me that he lied?” He spoke with a calmness that rallied the anger within you. “Yes, that’s what I’m saying.” You snapped at him, shrinking back into the bed at the warning that flashed in his gaze as he considered your words. “I’ve been with you for years, Kai. Years. He’s been here for a matter of weeks.” You tried to reason with him, your sobs quieting as you watched his gaze soften more and more with each word. “And he never would of accepted your offer if you hadn’t have promised him a place to stay. You know this, please, Kai.” Kai studied your tear and blood streaked face carefully and your chest swelled hopefully as his hand drifted to your cheek, caressing the side of your face softly. But then his grip tightened on your face, his hand clenching onto your jaw painfully and you winced as he jerked you head back, exposing your bare throat to him. “If you’re innocent, then why did you run?” And with that he dragged you up, moving off you so that he could tug you by your face off the bed. “No!” You screeched. “No, KAI, PLEASE.” He lugged you across the room, to his closet, pulling open the door to the small space and slapping you hard enough to see stars before shoving you in. You let out an ungodly squeal as he slammed the closet door shut, the sound of the lock clicking into place a condemnation that summoned the most primal part of you. You kicked at the door, slamming your fists against it repeatedly and pleading to Kai as he walked away, the sound of his bedroom door closing sending you into a panicked frenzy. Your fingertips bleated in pain as you tore at the door, fists throbbing as they were pummeled against the hard surface repeatedly. But it was pointless, Kai was long gone. You sat back, heaving down air as you tried to calm yourself. “Please don’t leave me in here.” You whimpered into the unappeasable darkness. What if he just didn’t come back? What if he had decided that he didn’t need you around anymore and just left you to rot. The dark enclosed space was illuminated by the borders of light around the doorway and you lifted your shaking hands into the dim light, frowning as you saw that your knuckles were bloody and swollen. Helplessness like you had never known it settled over you and your body shook violently as the events of the past two hours finally caught up to you. The sound of your cries were smothered by the darkness of the closet as you curled your knees to your body and sobbed luxuriously into your hands. ____________________________✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*_________________________________

Kai returned later that day, the light stinging your eyes as he opened the door and stared down at you blankly. You reluctantly met his gaze, your eyes puffy and face blotchy, unsure of how long you had been locked in the dark. Your gaze flicked down to his hand, seeing that he was holding a sandwich, which he presented to you, holding it out and watching you carefully as you extended an aching arm to take the plate from him. “No.” He said quietly, moving the plate out of your reach before taking the sandwich and chucking it onto your lap. You scowled as the contents spilled out of the bread, smearing onto your pants. “I don’t trust you with the plate.” He explained quietly, tearing his gaze from you as he closed the door again in your face. “You’ll probably break into pieces and use it to cut your own throat or some shit.” He muttered, his voice muffled through the door. You took a steadying breath as the darkness closed in around you once more. “Wai-wait.” You called after him as you heard his footsteps heading towards his bedroom door. Your voice was raw but he heard you, his foot falls halting. “Can I please have a glass a water?” Kai was silent as he considered your question. But then he walked the last few steps to his door. “Maybe tomorrow.” His words were cold, the sound of his bedroom door closing condemned you to silence once more. ____________________________✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*_________________________________ Kai left you in his tiny closet space for days, only letting you see light when he came to bring you scraps of food, barely enough to keep your stomach’s incessant rumbling at bay. Your tailbone burned throughout it all, forcing you to shift your position every ten minutes, making sleep almost impossible. Any sense of time had long since evaded you and you were forced to sit in your own blood, piss and tears for god knows how long before Kai finally unlocked the door, holding a hand out to you silently and helping you to your feet. You looked at him, eyes dull as you held you upright, scanning your body and grimacing at the smell of you. You swallowed, apprehension building in your gut as you anticipated his next move. His gaze softened. “It’s over now.” He assured you softly, bringing your head to his chest and embracing you tightly. You didn’t return his hug, fresh tears squeezing their way out of your eyes, wetting the front of his shirt as he held your head to him. Pulling back, he eyed you in concern as you stood motionless before him. You met his gaze. Was that...guilt? Frowning, you struggled to discern the emotions displayed on his face before you scooped you into his arms, pressing a careful kiss to your temple. You didn’t have the energy to protest as he carried you into the bathroom, setting you down on the counter beside the sink and tugging off your pants and shirt. Exhaustion clouded your consciousness and you let Kai take control, allowing him to lift you down from the counter and leading you to his shower. He helped you wash, scrubbing the piss from between your legs and the blood from your hair. Kai apologised to you before peeling off your underwear and you cringed as you became completely exposed to him, but he consoled you softly as your face flushed and you began to protest weakly. Eventually you gave yourself over to him, the need for sleep weighing down on your body. After he had washed every inch of you, you let him lead you out of the shower and wrap you in a warm towel, taking your hand to bring you to his bed. You fell asleep as Kai took up a hairbrush in his hand and struggled to work it through your knotted hair, letting you fall forwards onto the bed and making sure you were completely dry before folding the covers over you and leaving the room, allowing you to sleep deeply. You were woken up several hours later by Kai who helped to sit you up and presented you with a large glass of water, not leaving your side until you had drained the entirety of the glass. “I’m fine.” You said to him sharply as he mother-henned over you, hurrying to his dresser and finding a warm shirt for you wear as you sat yourself up, using his duvet to cover your exposed chest. But Kai really didn’t seem interested in your body as he passed you the shirt and let you pull it on yourself. You ignored him completely, scowling at the floor as you got dressed. “I meant what I said to you in the car.” He said quietly after several beats of silence as you pushed yourself to your unsteady feet. He took a glance at you as you had to take a moment to steady yourself on your feet. You knew what he meant, the accidental declaration that he had made. “Why the fuck would I kill someone I love?” The memory of this brought a glower to your face and you brushed past him as you exited the room. Without so much as turning to address him directly you bit out, “yeh? It’s going to take a hell of a lot to prove it to me, Kai.” He turned to follow you, a reply forming on his lips. But it was your turn to close the door in his face, your turn to cut off his words as you took the stairs the kitchen, a single clear thought occupying your head: Liam.

#american horror story #ahs #ahs cult #kai anderson #love #confession #reader #kai x reader #beverly hope #part 2

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fanmoose12 · 3 years

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the devil you know

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Moblit Berner, Zeke Yeagar, Armin Arlert

Genres: Action / Drama

Summary: Can you still miss a person, if everything you knew about them was a lie?

Сhapter 5/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

"There is also a letter for you, sir."

Levi snatched it out of the messenger's fingers, thanking him by a quick, curt nod.

"You may go," he said, waiting for the soldier to leave, so he could read the letter in silence.

Just as he opened it, however, Zeke's face appeared right in front of him, materializing out of thin air.

"Got a love letter, Captain?" he mocked, his eyes glinting. "Or were you popular only once in your life?"

There was a fire right behind Zeke. Levi longed to throw him there. He almost smiled, as he imagined the beast running around with his pants on fire. Watching it would be much more satisfying than simply punching him in a face. Although.... if the beast lost his pants, Levi would be forced to become an unwilling spectator to Zeke walking around half naked. And Levi would rather slit his own throat with a sword.

"Mind your own business, beast," he grumbled, having his fill of arguing with Zeke. The bastard just wanted to get rise out of him anyway. One time Levi had let him. He wouldn't allow Zeke to have another victory. "And get lost. If you won't let me read the letter in peace, I won't let you read at all."

Levi pointedly looked at the book in Zeke's hands. The beast took a staggering step back, cradling the book protectively to his chest.

"Now I see why you weren't popular," he arrogantly scoffed, but left hurriedly before Levi could act on his threat.

When Zeke was a safe distance away, Levi sat down by the fire and opened the letter. The handwriting consisted of small, carefully curved letters. Armin's handwriting.

Levi hesitated to open it. He hoped it wasn't anything urgent. He hoped it wasn't bad news.

But if the things remained just as they were when he left, it could very well be both.

Oh how he hated being away. When he was in a thick of it, at least, he had the illusion of having control.

And right now, the only thing he could control was Zeke. As long as the beast’s and their goals aligned and the beast let Levi control him. And who knew when that was going to change.

It was going to change, Levi was sure of it.

Worry about that later, when the time comes, he told himself, as he shook his head, pushing anxious thoughts to the back of his mind, and finally opened the letter.

Sitting a little closer to fire, he started reading.

Captain Levi!

I hope the messenger brought you everything you needed. If supplies are running low, please tell me so.

I'm sure you want to know what's going on our side. Do not fret, we're holding on. For now. The tensions are still running high, but Commander Pixis is doing a great job of keeping everything under control. Commander Dawk helps plenty too, and together they're working closely with Chief Zacklay to ensure the island's safety.

Yesterday, I wrote a letter to Historia, requesting her to come back. I know she has to care for herself and her future child, but I think... maybe, we can use people's love for the Queen to put an end to their protests. There are more and more people gathering next to our headquarters. I think it’s time for her intervention.

Another matter you should know about is the fate of these Marleyans kids, Gabi Braun and Falco Grace. Unfortunately, they escaped from the prison, but rest assured we're going everything we can to locate them.

Truth be told, I worry about them. It's dangerous for them to walk around the island, while we're in the middle of that mess. Many people don't like Marleyans, so I hope these kids are at least smart enough to not start any trouble. Hange-san told me the very same thing - she worries for Falco and Gabi, but doesn't think they'll do something stupid.

And before you can ask, yes, I've interrogated Hange-san about their escape, she knows nothing. What's more, Jean, Sasha and Connie were with her in the presumptive time of the escape. If you don’t trust her, at least have faith in them.

Well, as I said, we're working on bringing them back.

Oh, and, by the way, Captain, we let Hange-san stay in her old room, just like I told you we would. She praised whoever cleaned it. Don't worry, though, I kept your secret. Hange-san is too smart to be fooled so easily, but, alas, I did my best.

If you need anything, send a letter immediately. Stay alert and keep your wits about you, Captain.

The others are eagerly waiting for your return. Connie and Sasha are doing their best at keeping the headquarters clean. And Mikasa is doing a great job of taking over your duties and training the recruits. Oh, and Moblit-san sends his regards.

I hope you’re holding on. I’m sure you are.

Best wishes, Armin

With a letter still in his hand, Levi stared at the fire, thinking it all over.

Bringing Historia back could help ease the tensions, or… It could make it all even worse. But the Queen’s influence was undeniable, in that regard, Armin was right. She was probably the only one who could get them out of this mess.

And these damned Marleyan brats… Escaping from the prison was not an easy feat. Marleyans had taught them well, it seemed.

Was Hange involved in their trainings as well?

Whether she was or she was not, Levi didn’t believe she had helped them to escape. What for? If someone finds out where they came from, they’d be killed on sight. Hange would never do something so careless. If she truly cared about these kids, and it seemed like she actually did, she’d bargain with Armin and others, ask them to let the kids stay with her.

In her room. That he had cleaned.

He briefly wondered what Hange reaction had been like. Was she surprised? Confused? Touched?

She was most probably enraged, Levi concluded. Pissed off that all of her things weren’t on their places – Levi made sure they weren’t. Maybe, he was too much of a pitiful idiot to throw her shit out, but he knew the other way to get to Hange.

He used to know so many things about Hange.

There had been a time he thought he knew everything. Now he knew better.

***

"Another letter?"

As soon as the messenger left, Zeke was right beside him, his head raised high, as he attempted to take a peak over Levi's shoulder.

Levi swatted him away, too confused by the letter and the large enough package he had received to answer Zeke with the violence he so rightfully deserved.

"Get lost," he just said, blindly reaching behind him to push Zeke away.

"I don't care what you have there," the beast scoffed, lifting his haughty nose even higher. "I just came to ask if there are any letters for me."

Levi looked up at him in surprise, his lips curling up. Letters for Zeke? The notion was so ridiculous he almost started to laugh.

"Do you seriously think there is someone who would write letters to you? Your dear brother is in prison and he isn't allowed to talk even to his friends, and you expect a letter from him?"

In the face of Levi's open mockery, Zeke's eyes darkened. "Eren is not the only who can write to me. From what I've heard, she's not in prison anymore."

Oh, so he was using that card again? Levi wasn't going to succumb to it. He wasn't. Not again.

Still, his fingers gripped the letter more tightly, as he threw a sizzling gaze at the beast.

But. At least, he didn't hit him. Clearly, a progress.

"She is not allowed to write letters either," he revealed. "And letting Hange reside in her old room wasn't my decision."

"Clearly," Zeke nodded, his lips moving upwards. "If it was up to you, she'd be sleeping in your room, isn’t that right, Captain?"

The letter in his hand crumpled as Levi attempted to take a breath and keep himself from latching on the bastard.

But clearly, Zeke wasn’t finished. Clearly, he wanted more of Levi’s rage.

“And, just so you know,” he lowered his voice, as though he was going to tell him a secret. He crouched down to his level too, his hand next to his ear. Levi was too dazed to push him away. “When Hange cares about someone, she always finds a way.”

“Then where is your letter, Zeke?”

There was a beat of silence, the beast’s mouth falling open as he struggled to find his own words. Fucking finally, he managed to get him back.

Reveling in his small victory, Levi pushed past Zeke, heading to his tent.

There, he lighted the candle and put the package down onto a wooden table, sitting down beside it. Deciding to start with the letter, he opened it in a quick, fluid motion. His chest warmed, as he recognized Moblit’s neat, delicate handwriting. He didn’t even notice it, his thoughts too scattered amidst all this mess, but he missed his friend. More than he thought he would.

Captain!

How are you doing? Hope you’re not picking too many fights with our shifter-ally. Remember, we need him alive - at least, until we feed him to someone else. Although, I’m sure you’re keeping it together. You know just how important this is.

As on our end, things are not going all too well. Truthfully, I don’t know how bad it actually is, I have been out of loop lately, but I trust Commanders Pixis and Dawk and our Armin to get us through this.

There are rumors of the Queen getting back, or so Sasha told me. In my opinion, it’s dangerous to let Historia into the city, but, maybe, it really can help ease the tensions. Maybe, if she advises everyone to calm down, protesters will stop shouting under my window. It’s a good thing you aren’t here, Captain, these protesters – Yeagerists, as they started to call themselves, - are absolutely horrible. They’re loud and rowdy, and, honestly, their demands are making me a bit worried.

Maybe, they’re so bold because you aren’t here. I’m sure one deadly look from you and they’d scatter.

I also miss our evening tea parties, you wouldn’t believe it, I know – but I really do, terribly so. I went to the Niccolo’s place recently, tried a new pastry there, you will absolutely love it. I wanted to send it to you, but I was afraid it won’t be as delicious after a long road.

Now, I think it’s time to get to the thing that interests you the most – the package I sent you. I hope you haven’t opened it yet, so let me explain what it is first. I’ve included a few of my sketches in the second part of the letter, so you can get the overall idea of what it is.

In your absence, I’ve started to visit Sq Hange-san more often (I know what you’d say – we can’t trust her and should be more careful around here, but… we’ve been through much together, even if some part of it was a lie. It’s stronger than me. I’m sure you can understand) and we started working together on something new.

I’m not going to lie, working with her after all these years is still exciting to me. She’s just as brilliant as I remember, perhaps even more so, now that she doesn’t have to hide the whole extent of her knowledge.

She critiqued our performance during the Reid on Liberio. I was offended at first, surely, it wasn’t such a disaster. What we did was disastrous, I can’t and won’t deny it, but how we did it? It really was rather a success? Minimal amount of casualties on our side and another shifter, taken away from Marley…

But Hange-san wasn’t nearly as impressed. She said that we could do so much better, if only we improved our equipment.

Of course, I couldn’t refuse her offer to work together again. So, without further ado, here I present to you, Captain – the new uniform of Survey Corps’ soldier. We used some parts of our old uniform and uniforms of Anti-Personnel Control Squad, so now aiming and recharging the gun is a lot easier and carrying thunder spears is more comfortable too.

We haven’t done enough tests on this one yet, and, as of now, we only have a few models (yours is actually the first one we made), but I do think the modified version should be implemented among our ranks.

I’m eager to hear what you think about it, and I’m even more eager to have you back with us.

I’m not the only one who waits for you to come back. One person in particular is interested in your well-being. She doesn’t actually ask, but she always listens carefully. Turns out, reading Hange-san is as easy as it’s always been.

Waiting to hear from you,

Moblit.

Whenever he was expecting to read in Moblit’s letter, that wasn’t it. He half-expected that the package would contain a new type of tea or a warmer blanket. What he did not expect was a new uniform.

That Moblit created with Hange.

He looked at the pages, attached to the letter. Detailed, realistic looking sketches were undoubtedly made by Moblit’s skilled hand. But the crooked, hurried notes could only be written by her.

Staring at these sketches brought back unwanted memories. Nights, spent in the dimly-lit lab, brown eyes that sparkled with enthusiasm and excitement, burning brighter than the candle beside them, the deep, melodic voice enchanting him with one theory after another.

How calm, how content he had felt during these fleeting moments, during these nights he spent next to Hange.

And now the only emotions these memories brought back were pain and shame. She lied, she betrayed, and yet he still couldn’t let these moments go, still held them inside his heart, in the depth of his soul where no one would see them but him.

She lied, she betrayed, and all these moments were fake, but they still were. They happened, and when they did, they brought him an evanescent happiness.

And he was pathetic enough to still treasure them.

With a deep sigh, Levi put the letter down, reaching over for the package.

He took the wrappings off slowly and carefully, despite his eagerness to know what was inside. He didn’t know who made them, who sew the fabric together. It could very well be Moblit, the man was talented in various areas. It could very well be Hange. Despite her messy appearances, she was good with needle and thread, he had learnt it first-hand, when he got injured during expedition and Hange had sewed the skin of his arm quickly and neatly, her touch surprisingly careful and gentle.

When he was done with the wrapping, he took out what was inside. Black pants, black shirt, it looked so different from the old uniform.

He put it on, meticulously checking that every belt and fasting was in its place, zipped and secured. Finished, he stood before the mirror, turning this and that way.

It wasn’t ugly, Levi was sure it was very efficient and he would test it all by himself, when his squad would go to sleep, but he liked the old one better. He felt more comfortable in it, more like himself. More like a Captain of Survey Corps who fought against bloodthirsty titans. But the weapons this uniform was modified for wasn’t made for defeating titans. It was made for defeating humans.

And he still struggled with accepting that new, simple truth.

He couldn’t deny, though, Moblit was right.

Hange was just as brilliant as they all had remembered.

It made him think – albeit, fleetingly – how far would they go, if they had her with them? How far would she have taken them if she was always on their side?

How happy he would be, if she still had been with him?

Pointless brooding, he decided and started to peel off the uniform.

Its efficiency in fighting other humans was doubtless. That’s why Levi hoped he would never have to use it.

***

“Um, Captain, wait a moment, please…” the messenger frowned, scratching his head in confusion, as he stared at the letter in his hands. “It’s not signed, but maybe I’ve lost something…”

His put his arm inside the back pack, rummaging through it. Levi waited for a second, two, ten, twenty… The messenger was still at it. His patience running low, Levi grabbed the unsigned letter. If it was some soldier’s love letter, he’d get it back. But if that was something important…

He opened the letter.

And had his breath caught in his throat, because that— that crooked, hurried handwriting… He could recognize it anywhere.

“I’ll be in my tent,” he announced, his voice shakier than he was comfortable with.

He all but tumbled inside, leaning against the table to keep himself steady. His eyes ran over the letter, taking it all in.

The message was short, fairly simple. But it raised so many questions, filled him with emotions so raw he could choke on them.

Levi,

Something bad is going to happen. Don’t take your eyes off Zeke. Don’t underestimate him.

Be careful. And, please, come back home safely.

It took him but a moment to read it all. But the few words of the letter kept replaying in his mind over and over, making it impossible to fall asleep. Levi mulled it over again and again, trying to find some sense, trying to understand.

He got his first clue the very next day, when the messenger was back again, sweaty and panting.

Chief Zacklay is dead, he said, murdered inside his own office.

And the look Zeke had given him, the long, intent gaze that didn’t waver as Levi had followed after his soldiers to get more details.

That was his second clue.

#oh look! it's an update!#i actually planned this chapter to be longer and more to the point and i intended to show hange's pov #but then i thought ab moblit and levi's friendship and couldn't stop myself kfdjglgjdlfg #levihan #levihan fanfiction

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b0rista · 3 years

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— 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑.

WARNINGS: light angst & swearing.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: he's one of my ultimate favorite snk characters, and i needed to cleanse my page of the heavy ass warrior content djjfjf.

"you're either a blessing, or you're a lesson. either or, you and i met for a reason."

with all of the gore and the misfortune that comes with your livelihood, it's connie that gets you through it.

as expected, you first fell in love with him for his humor. not for the humor itself, but for how it shed the smallest flicker of joy upon a heaping tower of despair— as soldiers, you needed that. fortunately, he was the one that brought it to the table. even during your days as cadets, connie lived to make you laugh. hearing a chuckle flutter from your core served as a form of therapy for him, and with time, he grew addicted.

with that being said, he does the stupidest shit in order to get your attention. even when you're together, he'll do what needs to be done. for example, one time, he tried to impress you by doing a trick while saddled up on his horse. in an attempt to twirl like a jackass ballerina, the horse decided that it deserved better, and kicked him clean off its back. at the sight of his 5'2 ass being hoisted eight feet into the air, you nearly choked.

prepare yourself, he's a cuddler. after a particularly hard day's worth of work, connie finds solace in bedding up with you, knowing that you're safe, and with him. he asks that you don't tell anybody, but he actually really enjoys cuddling as the little spoon. to have his head pressed against your chest, his ear to your heartbeat, brings him comfort. of course, he'll never detest to being your big spoon, either. he absolutely loves the feeling of you buried within his touch.

^ if you ever want to go an evening without cuddling, he'll be immediately offended. never, ever, ever will the two of you fall asleep back to back. he simply won't have it, it makes him feel as if something's wrong. and if that is the case, nobody's falling asleep until you've talked about it and successfully sorted it out.

at the beginning of your guys' relationship, everyone worried for you. did he coerce you, y/n? are you being forced? has he threatened you, has he threatened your family? nobody could grasp the fact that connie motherfuckin' springer had managed to pull you.

if there's any sort of sour talk regarding you, no matter how little it is, this man will leap to your defense. one time, jean called your bedhead ugly, and connie propelled a moldy roll of bread into his forehead. in the end, a massive food fight erupted, and you were just standing there with your bedhead like 🧍‍♀️

HOWEVER, there was an instance that actually led to a genuine, real fight between you two as a couple. you'd managed to scuff up your leg during the battle with kenny the ripper and his associates, and when it came down to who was and who wasn't going to tag along for the eren & historia rescue mission, connie belittled you to the team behind your back. not because he actually felt that way, but because he'd do anything to maintain your safety— even if it meant hurting your feelings. telling captain levi that your abilities were inadequate for that particular mission hurt him, but he did what he felt was necessary.

in the end, though, levi saw through the charade. to connie's dismay, you came with to save eren and historia. and during the entire journey, you didn't even utter a word to him. of course, though, during the battle, you put your frustrations aside. once you saw your lover's head nearly get kicked in during combat, you understood his intentions, and you forgave him. as expected, he replied to your forgiveness with humor,, his go-to coping mechanism.

"considering how sexy i looked on the battlefield, i knew you wouldn't be able to resist."

whenever his hair starts to grow out, you're the one that gets to cut it back down! he's able to do it himself, but he really likes it when you do it. you're typically propped up in his lap, sitting face to face as you file down his edges. he always loops his arms around your waist, intently staring you in the face— seeing you so concentrated on his hair, he can't help it.

you wouldn't expect this from connie whatsoever, but he likes it when you read to him. pick a literature of your choice and let him kick back and rest his head onto your lap, pleasE. he'll close his eyes, and for the first time in forever, stay still. the only time he and books ever coexist is when you're reading one to him. he'll also make fun of you whenever you stumble over a sentence,, so get ready.

the day you realize that this motherfucker is nearing six feet tall, you're ready for the holy spirit to whisk you away. literally, you measure his height on the weekly once you realize he just keeps gaining inches. that, and when he starts growing more into his face? lawd, take you now.

"connie, you're getting seXY-"

"what the hell does thaT mE A N-"

many, many proposals. none are meant to be taken seriously, which the both of you know. still, there are far too many proposals between the two of you. one time, you killed a fly midair, and he thought you were the baddest bitch on the block.

"marry me."

another time, he swooped you into the air with his maneuvering gear, and as you held onto him for dear life, you looked him dead in the face: "marry me, you baldheaded bastard."

it can be a reel, how many times the two of you say that bullshit. somehow, it's cute.

he doesn't really take basic boundaries into consideration. like, one time, you caught him using your toothbrush because he couldn't find his. it wasn't fun, you had to give him a serious talking to.

he is, without a doubt, constantly prepared to lay down his life for you on the battlefield. during his time as a soldier, he's grown significantly strong— and once he fell in love with you, he's felt even stronger. not only do you give him drive, but you lend him strength. with that being said, you're somebody he'd die for without even an ounce of hesitation. and knowing him, he's probably made that more than obvious.

when connie's village was destroyed and it was discovered that his entire family was turned into titans, you were one of the only ones to actually comfort him. you were absolutely enraged at how nonchalantly your lover's loss was set aside, and although he'd tried his hardest to conquer the grief alone, it was you who sat at his bedside at night, cradling him in your arms as he wept. never in your life had you seen him so distraught. after that period of time, your relationship with him only deepened in its seriousness.

as expected, you and sasha spend quite a bit of time together! after all, that's your boyfriend's best friend. given her easygoing nature, it didn't take long for sasha to absolutely adore you. naturally, she wonders how the hell you manage to operate with a boyfriend like that, but she tries not to ask questions.

speaking of the wonder twins, they love getting you in trouble. whenever the two of them think up an astonishingly moronic shenanigan, there's a solid 50/50 chance that you'll be looped into it, too. one time, they purposefully dulled jean's razor, and when he went to shave, it only ended in him splitting his face open due to placing too much pressure. as a joke, those two jackasses carved your initials into the handle. when jean decided that he'd murder you, connie tried playing the hero, lEapiNg to your defense. it was stupid, and it didn't work. you still laugh about it, though.

there have been several jokes regarding starting a family and growing old together— secretly, though, connie doesn't want them to just be jokes.

he stole a stray cat for you. yup, yes he did. the two of you were walking about the city, and you saw a gray-haired sleeping beside a trash bin behind a local vendor. you compared its fur to the color of his hair, calling it cute. out of impulse, connie went back to that exact same vendor later on that day, trapped the cat in a box, and brought it to your doorstep.

his forearms and fingertips were covered in claw marks, but to see your face light up the way that it did, any amount of pain was immediately worth it.

after the nickname that shadis had given connie on the first day of cadet training, you named the kitty q-ball. 🥺

during the season four era, the two of you share a house. at first, captain levi argued against it— "put a pair of horny teenagers in a home together, what do you think is gonna happen?"

y'all said fuck it, and lived together anyways. it's you, him, and your lovely child, q-ball. occasionally jean, too. some nights, he doesn't want to be alone.

eskimo kisses. during the prepping of every single mission, you'll get eskimo kisses. it's a small, loving gesture the two of you do before heading into the battlefield. as a sign of your love, you'll press your foreheads together and rub noses, weapons holstered and ready for combat. it's a serious tradition, and it'll never be ignored.

and after a mission, connie has this habit of pinching your cheeks immediately after rushing towards you. it isn't to be cute, either. it's so that he can scan you, and check you for any harm. basically, it's him squeezing the life out of your face while bombarding you with questions.

expect supremely cheesy pet names! bae, biscuit, buttercup, baby thing, sexy bitch, and so on. if it were anyone else, he would 100% make fun of them. but it's him, therefore adorable.

#attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot scenarios #aot headcanons #connie springer #connie springer x reader #aot x reader #connie springer headcanons

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