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summercourtship · 5 months

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stay to burn (only to drown instead): chapter eight: poor, sweet, innocent [part I]

masterpost | ao3 link

jonathan crane x reader; bruce wayne x reader; edward nashton x reader | warnings: canon typical violence, sexual content | word count: 3648 words

DISCLAIMER: these chapters are not meant to be read alone. not every chapter has content for one of the three pairings listed. this is an ongoing fanfiction that I am cross-posting here on tumblr, not a series of one-shots.

chapter one |previous part

The end of the semester came quickly, a blur of grading and writing, studying and procrastination. If you cut open your veins, you’re sure that you would bleed coffee from how much you’d put into your body over the past two weeks, caffeine and sugar becoming your life source.

You were still working your normal shifts at Arkham- you couldn’t afford not to- but most of your day was spent with a textbook open on your desk unless Jonathan needed your help. Everyone else knew that you weren’t to be bothered until the end of the second week of May when classes were over, and Jonathan didn’t seem to mind letting you focus on your studies during work hours.

After all, he was the reason you had this job and he knew what your life was like.

Luckily, you only had two actual exams that you had to sit down for- your other final assignments were research papers and a singular presentation that you were completely ready and willing to leave until the night before to prepare.

Everything else in your life took a back burner, including Jonathan. It had been almost three weeks since you’d last spent time with him at his apartment. He’d always offered to host you, though, saying that it would just be a change in scenery for you to do your work but you knew that he was just saying that. Any promises he made about letting you do your work in peace were a lie. He always had a way of getting you to abandon your work and lavish your attention on him instead. And you had no power within your body to resist it, especially not when he spoke to you in the low tones that only ever seemed to signal your clothes being peeled off…

Yeah, you couldn’t exactly afford to have a night of that right now, as much as you may want it. But the option of his apartment was always open, he’d tell you, especially since you had a car now.

Your parents had dropped off the car a weekend ago, barely staying in the city long enough for you to get a quick lunch (upon seeing your parents you had noticed immediately how your mother’s grip never left the strap of her purse, how your father seemed to constantly check his surroundings- and all you could think about was that they didn’t even know about the close encounters with the criminal underworld you’ve had). The car itself was old, with a few dents and chips in the paint, but you didn’t care because it was yours. It represented new freedom in a city that was seemingly determined to take it away from its citizens.

You were now able to drive yourself to campus if you wished, and could take different shifts at Arkham (though they still mostly aligned with Jonathan’s schedule for obvious reasons). So even though you were incredibly stressed with the end of the semester, you at least had a semblance of control over a small portion of your life.

And sometimes, that’s all you could ask for.

Your latest office hours with Jonathan consisted of you sitting on the floor, papers to grade spread around you while Jonathan sat at his desk, doing much of the same thing.

“I hate this,” You had said at one point. Jonathan had only chuckled in response. That was the extent of your interaction for the day- no spontaneous make-out session, no back-and-forth teasing, no heated flirtations. Nothing but the sound of his fingers on the keys of his laptop and your own pen against paper.

When you left his office that day, you were struck by an odd emptiness in your heart when you realized that this was the last day of being his TA. And that while it hadn’t been the amount of work you’d been anticipating (after those first few weeks, Jonathan only asked you to grade the odd assignment, leaving you often just sharing your notes with the students and taking attendance), it also had changed your life in a drastic way.

Because how many other people could say they were sleeping with/in a relationship with their kinda mysterious, ethereally attractive professor? (Well, probably more than is decent, but your relationship is different from the ones you hear whispered behind hands as gossip, right?)

Then your actual exams and essays and presentation came and went in the blink of an eye, leaving you on the other side with nothing to do except take more shifts at Arkham.

So you did.

You weren’t particularly fond of chess, yet somehow Edward managed to rope you into playing with him. After the end of the semester and your shift to full-time for the summer, you’d been sent to help watch the inmates a few more times, almost always in the rec room. But this was only the second time that Edward had been present since your first time attending the room.

The first encounter after, he had simply watched you from afar. You did your best to not enter into a staring contest with him from across the room. For someone who had evidently been ignored for most of his life, you found it incredibly hard to do it yourself.

Today, however, he had approached you and gestured to the raggedy chess table that you’d noticed on your first day here. Initially, you just shook your head, mumbling something about needing to pay attention to your job. But then it was like two disconnected wires in your brain touched and you decided that, actually, you should play chess with him.

Quietly, you sat at the table across from him, ignoring the slight look of surprise that flitted across his face before he wiped it away. Surprising him might have made the entire endeavor worth it.

The game commenced, his pale hand moving a white pawn first. You knew enough about chess to know that white had an inherent advantage from starting first. But even though you decided to sit with him, you didn’t really care about winning.

You didn’t speak to one another as you played, your grimace only growing with each piece he took from your side. There was no playful banter, no hints that this game was anything but a way to pass the time. At least, it was on your end. You had no idea what Edward’s true intentions were and you doubted you would ever find them out.

“You know, two years ago I would have been terrified of a girl like you.” He breaks the silence as he moves his bishop, capturing your pawn. You looked up from under your eyelashes, keeping your face still to not show your distaste at his comment.

“A girl like me?”

“But now-” He ignored your interjection, though you could tell he heard it from the way he raised his voice slightly as he continued speaking, “you’re terrified of me.”

“I’m not terrified of you.” Not anymore, at least. Meeting a man in probably the worst chapter of his life will do that to you. “Right now, I’m annoyed.” You looked down at the chess board, trying to hide how lost you were. A pile of your pieces was beside Edward’s side of the board, evidence of your confusion and ineptitude at the game.

“You’re not very good at this, are you?”

“I don’t play often.” You bristled at his condescending tone even though it wasn’t unexpected from him. All he had anymore was condescension and his steadfast belief in his own intelligence. Everything else had been taken away from him the moment he was taken into custody.

“I can tell.”

You snapped your head upwards, scowling openly.

“I don’t have to play with you, you know.” Despite your threat, you stayed seated. But you were now unreasonably annoyed where you had been relatively content a few moments ago (at least, as content as one could be while surrounded by inmates of an asylum for the criminally insane). Edward only cocked his head sideways, his large eyes unblinking as he took in your annoyance.

“But you are.”

You were put off by his blaise attitude, pursing your lips as you slowly leaned back in your chair. It was your turn, but you knew that whatever you did he would beat you. Did he know what you were thinking as you looked at the game? How far ahead had he planned his moves on the board?

Was this all a metaphor? Was he planning something? At the thought a small jolt of fear ran down your back, a reminder sent from your brain that the man across from you was dangerous. You pushed the fear down, though, knowing that it was a dangerous emotion to have in an environment like the one you were in. People here could smell it, taste it in the air and trace its source like bloodhounds.

Dangerous.

“Move your rook.”

You didn’t move, instead sliding your stare up from the board to look at him in suspicion as you stayed in your reclined position.

“Why are you helping me?” What does he want? In a game where strategy was key, what was his by telling you what to do?

“It’s preferable to watching you struggle for the next two minutes.” He sighed, gesturing to a square on the board. “Move the rook.”

With no change in your suspicious expression, you moved the rook.

He immediately captured it with the same bishop from before, barely even looking at the board as he did so. You only had two pawns, a knight, and your king left on the board. He still had most of his pieces, and any of the ones you’d taken were not because you’d bested him but because he’d willingly given them up.

The shock at seeing your piece taken so carelessly erased the fear from your mind, replacing it with a strange sense of betrayal. As if you’d trusted the Riddler to give you good advice. You’d at least expected him to wait before taking you down.

“Hey! What-”

“I didn’t say I was helping you win.” He smiled at you, and you took a mental note to always analyze everything he said for hidden meanings and motives. “Checkmate.”

“Fuck.” You mumbled, looking at the board in defeat, shoulders slumped. From your peripheral vision, you saw him start to get up, clearly under the impression that you were done playing, expecting your one loss to have been enough to put you off of playing another round. You looked back up at him, keeping your expression even so he wouldn’t read too much into it. “Reset the board.”

If Edward was surprised you wanted to play again, he didn’t show it. (You were both hiding your emotions now, keeping your motives close to the chest). Instead, he simply did what you asked without talking. You watched as he moved the makeshift pieces back to where they belonged on the board, his fingers plucking up the random assortment of items. You noticed that though his nails were bitten almost to the quick, his hands didn’t shake as he did this.

When you looked back up at him, he was still focused on the board. Then his green eyes flicked up to yours for a second, peering up over the plastic frame of his glasses to look at you.

Only then did his hand stumble in its steadiness, knocking over the disfigured black knight he was placing on the board. Without thinking, you plucked it up and placed it back where it belonged, keeping your touch away from him.

“I’ll be white this time.” You said, hiding a small smirk. He acquiesced, turning the board around while watching you curiously.

(You still lost.)

Wayne Enterprises was supposed to call sometime the week after classes ended to inform you if you were chosen for the internship or if you failed miserably. So, for every second you weren’t actively typing in a patient’s information or taking care of Jonathan’s schedule, you were staring at your phone willing it to ring.

Which it finally did, halfway through your shift on Thursday. You were doing one of Jonathan’s patients appointments for the month, making sure that it aligned with the care he needed and didn’t conflict with any other medical appointment or program he had scheduled, when your phone buzzed on the table next to you. Slowly, you looked at it, stifling a gasp when the number was registered as Wayne Enterprises. You were frozen looking at the call on your screen.

Then, quickly, you swiped to answer the call, unwilling to let it go to voicemail.

“Hello?” You tried not to sound as nervous as you felt but your voice cracked and came out quietly into the receiver.

The voice on the other side said your name and it took you a moment to realize that it was a question, an inquiry if you were who the other side was speaking to.

“Yes! Yes, that is me.”

“This is Elizabeth, from Wayne Enterprises. We are just calling to-” Ah shit, you thought. Crestfallen, you did your best to not audibly sigh into the phone and barely registered that Elizabeth hadn’t said that they had picked someone else. “-congratulate you on being selected for one of our internship positions!”

Wait. What?

“Wait. What?”

“You got the internship.”

“Oh, wow.” You blinked, silent, before you came to your senses and began to profusely thank Elizabeth. As you did, you looked into Jonathan’s office. He was bent over his laptop, fingers furiously typing away at something, his glasses perched on the tip of his nose. You looked away before he could sense you looking at him and make eye contact, knowing that you’d forget everything if he did that. “What do I need to do next?”

“I’ll email you the official contract and all the necessary information- in a few weeks there’ll be a luncheon so you can meet everyone and start off the internship on a positive note!”

“Again, thank you so much.”

“No, thank you! We look forward to working with you.”

With that, the call ended.

Numbly, you put your phone face down on your desk. A small laugh bubbled from you, unfamiliar on your lips.

You got the internship. In just a few minutes, the hope you had for your future brightened, knowing that the position was unlikely to end in you being unemployed when you graduated.

Slowly, you stood up and moved to Jonathan’s doorway. If he noticed you move, he didn’t show it, his focus remaining on his work. Softly, you cleared your throat.

“Hey, Jon?” He looked up, obviously taken aback by you using a nickname he didn’t go by. “I just got off of a call from Wayne Enterprises.”

He didn’t move, not to help you deliver the news. No probing questions. He just waited for you to break the news. You’re not sure if you appreciated his silent waiting or not.

“I got the internship.” You didn’t allow yourself to seem too excited, afraid of what his reaction would be.

After a moment of stillness that made you want to shrink into yourself, a soft smile crept across his face. You told yourself it was just how he expressed his happiness and not a forced happiness so you wouldn’t suspect he was unhappy with the news. Because why would he be unhappy that you’d gotten something you wanted, something that was inherently beneficial for you?

(A quiet voice whispered it was because he didn’t give it to you, that he had no control over what happened at the internship. You told it to shut up. You’ve been doing that a lot lately.)

“Well. I think that deserves a celebratory dinner.”

You pushed down the uncertain voice, deciding to ignore its whispers in favor of a seed of giddy excitement. You allowed yourself to finally smile.

“Like a date?”

“Why not?” His voice was casual.

Jonathan was rarely casual.

But you were too excited over the prospect of an actual date to care.

“Okay, um, I can meet you at your place-”

“How about I pick you up?”

You wanted to protest. You didn’t need him to do that anymore, not now when you had a car of your own. The fragile grasp you had on control of your life was not something you wanted to be plucked away from you so easily.

But then Jonathan took his glasses off, folding them neatly before looking up at you. “Let me do this for you?”

It wasn’t the first time he’d asked you this, and he did it in the same way both times. His voice low, soft and pleading. There was something immensely satisfying with hearing him ask you for permission to do something kind for you.

Of course you gave in every time.

For being your first “date” with him, dinner was uneventful. Uninteresting, even. You told him more about the internship while you sipped an overly expensive drink (Jonathan’s treat. Who were you to say no to free alcohol?) He wasn’t drinking, the car keys in his pocket the only reason he needed to give for his abstinence.

Your waitress took your order and your menus and you realized that you had exhausted all information you had about the internship. Jonathan took a slow sip of his water, offering nothing.

You looked into your glass of whatever- you weren’t quite sure what you had ordered to drink aside from the fact that it was good and definitely had wine in it from the way you were starting to flush with desire- and sighed.

“I’m sorry I’ve been distant lately. I’ve been busy with the end of the semester and haven’t felt like-” You paused, unsure of how to say that you hadn’t been in the mood for intimacy. You didn’t want Jonathan to get the idea that you only went over to his place to fuck, even if the night always ended with your bodies intertwined.

“I understand.” He put his glass down, right back onto the ring of condensation that had formed on the table.

You murmured a thanks.

The rest of the dinner passed by with him asking you how you enjoyed being his TA (which almost made you laugh considering how little work you ended up doing), you asking him what his teaching schedule was like (Abnormal Psychology and Intro to Psychology, no special topics for his fall semester), and mindless discussion on the muggy weather outside (summer in Gotham was unbearable in its humidity, the rain was almost a relief).

Soon enough, you were walking on slightly wobbly feet to his car, where it was only a short drive back to his apartment. He hadn’t even asked if you wanted to just go back home.

He knew you didn’t, your heavy gaze and shifting in your seat informing him of what you wanted- no, needed from him.

But he beat you to it. Before you could even manhandle him into a position where you could take what you wanted from him, he had you pushed down onto his bed, the dress you’d worn for the evening peeled up off your body and your underwear pulled off, your bra thrown somewhere.

Jonathan was between your legs, still fully clothed though his suit jacket had been taken off as soon as you’d entered his apartment. Instead of diving in, you watched as he slowly rolled his sleeves up over his forearms, exposing his taut skin and the lean muscles underneath.

Not for the first time, you wondered how he built those muscles and yet never mentioned working out.

Then, delicately, Jonathan pushed your thighs apart, revealing yourself to his hungry gaze. You only had a moment to prepare your

Jonathan had eaten you out a few times since you’d first been together (and you never forgot that it was the first intimate thing he’d ever done with you, the memory always leaving your skin warm), but each time he did it as eagerly as he had the first time.

You’d been slowly sobering up since you’d left the restaurant but his touch on your skin, his mouth on your cunt left you feeling like you’d never stopped drinking.

It hadn’t been that long since you’d last been with Jonathan. Yet in that time your body had forgotten how electrifying his touch was, how it lit fires in its wake as it trailed down your body and over your sensitive nerves.

He takes his time with you, drawing out exhales and gasps from you slowly, only adding another finger when your pleasure plateaus. He proves himself more in tune with your body than you’d even realized, able to read each quiver of your flesh and correspond his own worship to continue pulling you to a climax.

Tonight he is not satisfied with one orgasm, or two. He coaxes and snatches them from you, his tongue and fingers and cock pulling each one from you with whispered praise and gentle admonishments. He rewards you for each one with a kiss and gives you his own orgasm like it's just another gift.

You fall asleep at midnight, sweating and wrung out from the night’s activities. He’s right beside you, toying with a lock of your hair between two fingers that had just been inside of you.

When you wake in the morning, daylight streams in through the half-open blinds on Jonathan’s window. Blinking away the last remnants of sleep, you stared at the clock on his bedside table, starting when you realized what day it was. Because Jonathan had picked you up, you needed to wait until he was ready to release you back into the world to return home.

And you had places to be this evening.

next part.

#stbotdi #stay to burn only to drown instead #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane smut #edward nashton x reader #edward nashton x you #batman fanfiction #batman x reader #my writing #my fic

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yee-fxcking-haw · 3 years

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•Love Me Tender•

Summary: After waiting, watching, and wanting, Tamaki finally has a way to get to you. He's willing to do use some questionable methods, make deals with shifty friends, whatever it takes. He'll have you.

Pairing: Pro Hero Tamaki Amajiki x FemReader (both 18+)

Warnings: Yandere behavior, stalking, coercion, sabotage, manipulation, hard dom Tamaki, slight brat reader, mostly sub reader, unprotected sex, virginity loss, oral sex (female receiving), tentacle play (oral, vaginal, anal, gagging), bondage (with tentacles), mild dumbification, degradation, spit play, cum play, wittle bit of bloodplay, creampie, marking, possession kink, collaring. Kinda-sorta dub-con (not really imo but warning just in case)

Word Count: 11,576

A/N: Jesus fucking christ I did it.

Part One: Porcelain Obsession

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Tamaki awoke painfully this morning, body aching and covered in dried sweat. It wasn't a feeling to be proud of, but it was a feeling he cherished.

Your stolen underwear is clutched in his hand still, like a lifeline. It still smells just a little bit like you… but not enough. He couldn't feel you or taste you or hold you. He had to figure something out, quickly. He had to find a way to make you his.

Luckily, Tamaki knows exactly how to make that happen…

***

You hang up your apron with a deep sigh, wiping sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. Thank god it's only a half day, you finally have an afternoon off, a day to spend by yourself.

You bid your coworkers farewell and head out of the shop. You wander home, earbuds in as you try to drown out the noise of the city. Once you're home, you notice a small box on your doorstep.

It's a pretty little gold box with purple ribbon, a tiny note is attached to the top. The scribbled writing reads,

"I thought this would look pretty on you, I'm sorry about the weird exit last night. I'd like to take you to get some coffee to make up for it, if you'll let me." - Tamaki

Your heart flutters a bit at the note, you had deduced you were nothing more than a charity case. Him walking you home was just what he felt was fair in exchange for the use of your phone, he didn't really… like you? Did he?

His exit was just a little bit strange, he seemed almost panicked. You wanted to ask if everything was ok, but figure it best to stay out of a hero's business. Who knows what door you'd be opening if you started to ask too many questions.

Beneath his note is a phone number, obviously his. You can't call him right away, it might seem desperate, but you can open the box.

When the lid comes off, you gasp quietly at what's hidden inside. On a delicate silver chain sits one lovely little pearl. You stand there, amazed and confused. Wondering why on earth somebody like Suneater would leave such a precious little gift for you.

***

You called the number left on the note about an hour after receiving it. As soon as Tamaki picks up the phone your heart leaps into your throat.

"I didn't think y-you'd call." He laughs afterwards, but you can hear traces of genuine anxiety underneath.

"Well, what kind of an asshole would I be if I didn't call back the hero that saved me from a lonely walk home?" Your face crinkles up at your horrid attempt at flirting.

He doesn't seem to mind, though. He gives you a sweet laugh, putting some of your nerves at ease.

"So, uh- coffee?" He wonders.

"I'd love to, I just got off work, but I imagine you're busy doing hero stuff. We can-"

"No I'm not busy." He says quickly, his urgency makes you smile. He's almost boyish in his approach, and it's very charming.

Somehow, between the two of you suffering your way through the conversation, you set a time for coffee.

***

Tamaki makes a quick stop before meeting you, visiting a horrid friend of his in an alleyway a hero should never be unless he's kicking someone's ass.

His "friend" turns out to be a little more than your average criminal. He's a wicked looking man, with a mess of black hair and an abundance of scarring littering his body.

They call him Dabi.

"So what's the plan here? Am I just scarin' the poor girl or do I get to have some real fun?" His smile is devilish, and his eyes are telling.

It makes Tamaki's skin crawl, he stares daggers at the man leaning against the brick of the alleyway.

"If you touch her, I will gut you like a fucking fish." Tamaki says, he's full of rage, but he says it so calmly, so matter of fact.

"You can try." Dabi laughs, "You forget how easy it is to cook seafood."

Tamaki stands there for a brief second, watching the villain, weighing his options.

"I'm not here for banter, can you do the job or not?" His words are clipped, strangely articulate compared to his usual stutter.

"Yeah whatever, I got nothin' planned for tonight, and I do love making little girls scream." He tilts his head back against the wall as Tamaki turns to stalk away.

"Hey, Suneater." Dabi calls out with a lazy voice.

Tamaki freezes and keeps his back to Dabi. He turns his head to the side and waits for him to speak.

"Send her my way when you're done with her." If Tamaki had less of the public eye on him, he would have slit Dabi's throat then and there.

Instead, he swallows his rage as he tosses a hefty wad of cash over his shoulder.

"Don't be late."

***

"You always just drink it black? Not even a little bit of sugar?' You ask, astounded by Tamaki's ability to drink the bitter liquid without any sweetener.

"Sugar is kind of useless for me, I try to eat things that'll help me with m-my quirk." He explains, his deep eyes wander while he talks, like he's watching for something.

That must come with being a hero.

"Does coffee help your quirk?" You ask, a smile playing at your lips when you see him frown at his drink.

"No, but it helps me focus."

You nod playfully before taking a sip, the cafe he's brought you to is incredibly charming. It's not an overly hip establishment, it's just a sweet little hidden gem. Tucked away into a forgotten street, it gives the impression that it's a well kept secret between two best friends.

"Do you feel like people ask too much of you?" You question. It slips out so quickly, running away from you after launching out of your lips.

Your hatred for small talk gets the best of you and you jump the gun, as always. You want to hide, but not before you apologise a thousand times for being too straightforward.

Tamaki looks at you thoughtfully, his eyes show that he's shocked, but not offended.

"Sometimes. It can feel like people expect me t-to be the…" He pauses for a moment, mentally grasping for the right word.

"It feels like people expect Heroes to be this ultimate, universal band-aid. In a lot of ways, we are, but we're still h-human… I-I'm still human…" His voice slows down by the end of his sentence, like he's realized he might be over sharing.

But, you asked him, you wanted to know. You actually care about him? Every bone in his body is screaming at him to grab you, throw you over his shoulder and run away. He feels some carnal desire to just keep you. Hide you from every selfish asshole that would take advantage of the starstruck look in your beautiful eyes.

He can't, though… not yet.

"S-sorry…" He whispers.

And then, you reach across the table to take his hand in yours. He feels the contact all the up his arm, into his chest, into his heart.

So you do want him too.

"Please don't be sorry, I liked listening to you talk." You say quietly.

You did love it, you loved it because you've felt so unheard, so unseen. Being able to provide somebody else with a pair of listening ears serves as a kind of relief for those feelings.

"Can you tell me more?" You test, hand squeezing his own a little more.

��He looks almost elated, thrilled to be seen, excited to be heard. Most of all, he's itching to finally have you.

***

The date was nothing short of wonderful, filled with cute little fumblings of words, hands brushing but never holding, and sharing bits and pieces of yourselves with each other.

You flop onto your bed, reminiscent of a teenager who's just had their first kiss. You didn't kiss him goodnight, you chickened out of that. But you did press your lips against his cheek for a brief moment, which seemed to have quite the effect on him.

His breath hitched, his fists balled at his sides, acting like he'd never been touched so tenderly. It made you wonder, is the Hero as lonely as you are?

You glance over at your night stand, seeing the pretty little necklace sitting in its box. You're washed with guilt as you realize you forgot to wear it to coffee, knowing he must have wanted you to. You take it out of the box carefully before pulling it around your neck and hooking it into place. It fits like a choker, snug against your skin, but it feels good to have it so close.

You're ripped from your musing when you hear the unmistakable sound of breaking glass.

Inside your house.

Your blood chills, hair stands up on the back of your neck and you rise from your bed slowly. You try to talk yourself down, kill the first nerves that consume your chest. It was probably a poorly balanced vase… except, you don't own any vases. It could have been a picture? Nope, not a picture, it was just glass… like a window breaking.

There's a gun in your office, but you're in the bedroom. You scan the room for something, anything that could be used for defense. Of course, nothing but a damn notebook.

The police, you should call the police. Your heart clenches when you hear the threatening sound of heavy footsteps falling down your hallway.

They're heading straight for your bedroom.

You lunge at the door, hand landing on the doorknob just as it begins to turn. Desperately, uselessly, you try to lock it. It's too late, though, it's already opening by the time your thumb lands on the lock.

You can hear your blood rushing when the door swings towards you, a large black boot planted on the other side to force it open.

"Sorry 'bout the window, sweetheart. I tried the front door, but it was locked." The intruder chuckles as he invades your bedroom.

You stumble back as you take in his sewn together form, a mess of black leather and scars. Wild, electric blue eyes devour your trembling form as you press yourself back into the wall.

"Oh, hon, you're shakin' like you're in danger. I ain't gonna hurt you, I'm gonna do the opposite." He stalks towards you, somehow moving in slow motion but with incredible speed all at the same time.

Your phone sits on your night stand, only feet away but all too unreachable. You're caged in by his arms as he towers over you, filling your nose with some horrid, smokey smell.

"P-please, you can have anything, j-just don't-"

Your words halt when a long, pale finger traces over your collar bone.

"Don't what? 'J-just don't' what?" He mocks you, eyes lit with a sadistic amusement.

Your heart rattles in your chest as tears prick your eyes, you can't fight him, he's huge. You don't have your gun. You don't have your phone. You're fucked.

"Cryin' already? What's the matter, doll?-" The hand traces your collar bone moves up to wrap around your throat, "Not a fan of villains?"

Your hands paw at his wrist, you will yourself to sputter something out, any kind of objection to whatever he has planned. You try to whimper out a 'stop', but when your mouth finally forms the word, the voice isn't yours, but it's familiar.

It's low, clipped and dangerous as it barks out the warning.

Suneater.

Suddenly, as if he's being yanked to the heavens by the Gods, your assailant is torn away from you. A large, red tentacle captures him by the waist and throws him across the room. You collapse to the ground instantly, curling around your legs as you hear the muffled sounds of a violent fight.

You hide in your own little world, trembling and clenching yourself. You take one peak from between your arms, just to see Tamaki place the intruder in a chokehold before barking some profane threat at him.

The villain is smiling the whole time, he even winks at you.

"If I ever see you near her again, you won't walk away with your life." Tamaki snarls as the stranger breaks away from his hold.

"She's not worth the trouble." He laughs, raising one hand before sending brilliant blue flames blasting towards Tamaki.

You scream involuntarily, reaching out for the Hero as he jumps away from the flames. Once they're gone, the villain is gone as well. Like some cheap magician disappearing off stage. The room is almost entirely untouched by the burst of fire, at most, the tip of your comforter is singed.

The second the fire is gone, Tamaki is walking towards you urgently, pulling you to your feet so he can cradle your face.

"Are you ok? Did he touch you? What happened?" His inky eyes search your face frantically.

You don't answer, you just stutter, clinging to his hands until you can finally squeak out, "I'm ok."

His shoulders drop as he sighs, hands loosening their grip. His eyes flicker down to the necklace, his gaze softens when he sees how pretty it looks on you.

"Y-you… Do you like it?" He asks timidly, glancing up at you.

You breathe for a moment, slightly taken aback by the sudden shift in attention.

"I love it." You say quietly, still trembling.

He just saved you, really saved you from a real villain who was planning God knows what, and he's worried about your necklace?

"It's so pr-pretty on you…" He reaches down to touch it, leaving one hand on your cheek.

You take the moment to breathe, remind yourself that you're safe, that you're with a hero now. You observe Tamaki's almost casual appearance, a dry fit shirt and simple tactical pants. It almost helps you relax, seeing him like so… at ease?

His fingers play with the pearl, deep eyes transfixed. Something nearly uncontrollable swells within his chest. It burns and aches and eats at him. You're so close, you're so warm, so soft. He could have you, he could just take you.

"Tamaki?" You prod gently, your own chest stirs, and something pulls you towards him.

His eyes snap up to yours, and something shifts in the air. It feels sticky, heavy, too hard to breathe. His gorgeous form towers over you, pressing you back up against the wall as his eyes devour your trembling body.

"Thank you f-for saving me." You whisper.

He nods earnestly, his breathing is shaking, his hands feel like they're holding back.

"Anything. Anything for you."

That line, that makes you ache.

How long have you felt so lukewarm, so overlooked and forgotten? Too long, far too long. Now, with Tamaki looking down at you like you're priceless, you feel fiery, you feel seen and remembered.

Your hands grasp at his wrists, your eyes flick down to his parted lips. You're not sure what you want to happen next, but you want him as close as you can get him.

"If you let me start, I will not stop." His voice drops and it makes your breath catch.

He feels it too, then.

Is it the high of what you've just gone through? Is it just your body trauma bonding with the man that just saved you? Or do you really, really want him so bad it hurts?

His tone is warning and his eyes are frantic.

"Please." Is the only thing that falls from your quivering lips.

Consequences be damned, motives especially be damned. You need him, and he needs you. That's enough explanation for tonight.

He consumes you much like the villains flames, his lips are on yours almost too fast, his hands are greedy as they hold your face to his.

While you feel similar to a lovesick girl getting kissed for the first time, Tamaki feels like a prisoner finally set free. He feels like a lion that was held in a cage and taunted with a piece of meat. He feels like the door has finally been opened, and he can finally sink his teeth in.

"I wanna feel you." He brings his mouth away from yours with much reluctance, leaving his forehead pressed against yours.

You flounder for a moment, with your mouth feeling dry and your limbs feeling heavy.

"Where?" You choke out, searching his face for any tell.

"God, everywhere." It's a broken request, said like a secret.

"Take it. Whatever you want." Your boldness surprises you both.

You're hooked on the exhilaration, you're craving more, you want to feel something. Even after just a walk home and a coffee date, you want to feel it with Tamaki.

"Don't give me that…" He shivers as he presses his body against yours, making it very evident how much of an affect you're having on him.

"I'll ruin you." He whimpers when you grind back against him, your hands tug at his shirt and you look up at him with wide eyes.

"Who said I don't want that?"

You both stand there frozen, waiting for the other to move, to prove that this isn't a dream.

"Fuck."

His hands descend from cradling your face so they can wrap around your neck with the most gentle grip.

He watches you intently, feels your breath quicken, cherishing the way you bite your lip when his fingers tighten slightly.

Internally, Tamaki is fighting the most challenging battle he's ever had to face. He's had to take on a wide variety of formidable enemies, but right now, nothing seems more formidable than having to hold himself back when he finally has you in his arms.

He wants to take and take and take, for as long as you'll let him… maybe even longer.

She's mine now.

Something shifts in his gaze just then, making him look almost primal. It makes your chest feel frozen, makes it difficult to breathe or focus.

His hands shift around your neck, they feel almost… slippery? Their texture is different, their movement is more fluid. Then, you feel it, the distinct sensation of a suction cup latching against your skin.

Tentacles. He's made each of his fingers a tentacle.

Your eyes stay locked on his, both of you in a heated trance as you watch how the other responds.

One slick tendril crawls up to latch onto your chin, he turns your head upwards and to the side with a thoughtful look. It's almost like he's sizing you up, appraising you.

After a thick moment of silence, he finally speaks.

"I'm going to make you cry." It's a depraved promise, beautifully whispered with no shame.

You stand there, held by him, captured by him. You're helplessly entranced, all rational thought is long gone as you reel over the implications of his statement. All you can know for sure, is you want more.

Despite every red flag, regardless of any common sense, you want more.

"I dare you." You say back to him, the desperation to feel anything other than mundane spurs you onward.

He receives the words like it's a smack to the face, some shock evident in his eyes. He didn't take you for a brat, but he can certainly roll with it.

"You're gonna make this fun for me, aren't you?" He questions, his tentacles grip you tighter now, reminding you who has the high ground.

Mine.

The air shifts, something heavier takes over the mood, it settles in your ribs and wraps around your heart.

He guides you away from the wall, shepherding you around until your back is towards your bed. He starts walking you backwards until your knees buckle once they hit the mattress.

You sit there, gazing up at him, held still by his quirk, transfixed by the power he exudes as he towers over you.

"Has anyone ever had you before?" He asks, finally returning his hand to normal so he can cradle your cheek.

The question has your stomach burning with nerves.

No, nobody ever has.

You shake your head, looking down, cheeks burning as you try to hide your embarrassment.

His reaction shocks you immensely, his whole body shutters and he drops to his knees. His hands settle on your waist as he moves between your legs.

"Th-this is… all mine then?" He asks, he rubs his thumbs over the bottoms of your ribs affectionately.

His eyes are wide and reverent as he waits for your answer, looking like you're some anointed goddess. His eyes skate over every feature he can, and he cherishes each one.

Your confession nearly knocks the wind out of him, especially with how sweet you look, all blushing and embarrassed. It makes his need to rip you apart even stronger.

"Please...let me give you everything…" His hands tighten on you and you feel them shaking.

You study him for a second, at a complete loss for words, he seems so… devoted. It pulls on your heart, clouds your mind and lights your body up. How could you possibly say no to him? How on earth could you turn someone away when they’re looking at you like you’re placed on an altar ready to be worshiped.

Carefully, like you’re trying not to frighten a beast, you reach out and touch his face. He moves into your touch like a lonely cat, desperate for affection and recognition.

“Please…” You breathe.

And that’s all it takes.

His breath leaves his lungs in a harsh rush as he moves forward like a leopard, lean and precise as he forces you onto your back.

Your blood rushes so quickly you swear you can hear it, your mouth goes dry as he stares you down. He’s suddenly less reverent, now he’s ravenous. A dangerous, carnivorous look dances in his dark eyes. His judgement is clouded just like yours, only it fuels him, while your state is much more terrified. Any spunk you had in you is thrown out the window as he leers over you.

You shrink into the mattress as he hovers above you on all fours, heavy eyelids and parted lips giving him a nearly drugged look.

“When you say everything-” He whispers, moving so he can settle on his knees between your open legs, “Do you mean this too?” He drops his hips as he questions you, pressing something very hard into your thigh, something very intimidating.

He watches your eyes go wide, a wicked grin spreading across his face when you gasp after he rolls his hips. His arms cage you, a strong hand placed on either side of your head, the position makes you feel so pathetic, so helpless, but it gives you an incredible rush.

“Don’t look so scared, it won’t hurt.” He dips down to press his hot, open mouth against your neck, tongue lapping at your pulse. A dark chuckle leaves his chest, “Not much, at least.”

Then he’s definitely less reverent, he’s no longer worshipful, he’s a wicked, unleashed best. His hands are selfish as they remove your clothes, his mouth is voracious against your skin. He has you panting and twitching in seconds, musing at you when your reactions are particularly strong.

It’s when he snakes down your body, wetting your skin with his tongue, settling between your breasts so he can suck harshly at the heated skin, that you finally feel something break within you. You arch into his touch, fisting your hands in his raven hair, whimpering so beautifully for him as he works you up.

He knows what he’s doing, he’s skilled, well equipped for pulling you apart. He’s already descended into some debauched state of being, and he’s pulling you down with him.

“Nobody’s ever tasted this sweet little cunt before, have they?” He asks against your skin, latching his mouth back to the spot he’s focused on marking, but looking up at you with inquiring eyes.

You try to swallow, shake your head, do something, but all you can do is lay there naked and gasping.

He laughs again, a wicked thing that leaves his chest like a wisp of wind. He slides a hand up your body, he flicks over your nipple with his thumb on the way up, pulling another whimper out of you.

His hand latches onto your jaw, then he shakes your head for you, doing what he knows you can’t.

“Oh baby…” He sighs, “You saved it for me?” He teases, hips grinding against you, the cloth of his pants creates a strange kind of friction against your clit, not unpleasant, but not pleasurable. Where the hell did the sweet, stuttering hero go? If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looks deviant… almost villainous.

“Tama- please.” You shiver, not sure what you’re asking for, but certain that you need more.

“Good girl, talk to me.” His hand slinks down your throat before he rises to his knees.

Your eyes lock on the tightness of his pants, trying not to panic at the sheer size of the imprint he’s making on them.

His shirt is pulled over his head, messing his hair in the most handsome way, and the breath is ripped from your lungs.

He’s stunning, broad and strong looking. He’s all porcelain skin over well trained muscle. Built perfectly for the work he does. Built perfectly for ripping apart poor little girls like you.

“I liked the look you got when I had my tentacles on you.” He sighs, letting a hand fall to your bare stomach so he can trace lazy circles against you.

“Did you like that? Do you want me to use my tentacles to play with you?” He questions.

His voice is low, it’s rich and warm and dripping with seduction. Nothing like the tentative, wobbly tone he usually has. It rips the ground out from underneath you, leaves you panting and blinking like a brain dead fool as you gawk up at his prowling form.

“Just a yes or no, if you can manage it.” He smiles sweetly up at you, splaying his hand across your quaking abdomen.

You breathe deeply, trying to steady yourself, trying to catch up with what he’s said.

“Y-yes.” You whisper, barely audible, hardly heard over your labored breathing.

His other hand mirrors the one he has on you, sliding around to hold you by the waist, a gentle cage meant to establish dominance.

“Yes… what?” He prompts, pressing his thumbs down.

You falter then, your tongue feels heavy, your mind slows and you’re suddenly void of all vocabulary. Were you really really about to let one of the most well known pros wreck your body with his quirk? Were you actually laid out for him like this? You know so little of him, your only information gathered from small talk, but something about that had you buzzing.

You could be whoever you want to be, you don’t have to be the floundering virgin. You don’t have to be so damn shell shocked.

“Yes, D-daddy.” You test, hoping to God or whoever is listening that you got the right name.

By the way his eyes flutter closed, the way his grip tightens, the way his body tenses, you sure as hell did.

“That’s it.” He sighs, “-and what about you?” He wonders, his hold going gentle again.

You? What about you?

Tamaki watches you carefully, barely containing the raging storm inside him, barely holding back the carnal urge to turn every limb to a pretty purple tentacle and stuff you until you’re crying for mercy.

Not yet, don’t fuck this up.

“Princess? Darling?” He asks, lowering himself back down to kiss down your stomach, looking up at you through his thick lashes.

“Whatever you want.” You answer. Your sweet, sacred submission makes him close his eyes and breathe in.

Hold it. Not. Yet.

“You’re like an angel.” He breathes, making you shiver under the weight of the high praise.

He notices your reaction immediately, smiling to himself.

“So that’s it.” He presses a long kiss just under your belly button, bringing attention to how naked you are, and how naked he is not.

Your thighs squeeze together and your arms come up to cover your chest, suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to keep it all out of view.

His hands are on your wrist and his body is crouched over yours again before you can blink. He pins your hands beside your head, looking down at you with some wild, unbridled kind of look in his eyes.

“You do not get to hide from me.” His shoulders flex as he pushes your wrists down into the mattress, earning a whine from you as the pressure starts to ache.

“You’re mine. That means I get all of you.” He bites the words off, but keeps his voice quiet.

You should be scared, crying even, but the only thing you feel is exhilaration, the ache between your legs and the fluttering of your heart as he overpowers you with just the look in his eyes and a few harsh words.

“Do you understand me?” He eases up on your wrists slightly, looking more stern, less unhinged.

“I-I do, I’m sorry.” You whimper out.

He considers you for a brief second, eyes growing softer as he watches the way your pretty lip trembles.

“It’s ok.” He releases your wrists and speaks gently, “You’re ok.”

The reassurances makes you dizzy, especially in contrast with how rough he just was.

"Hold still for me, angel." Then he’s back to mouthing at your skin.

His teeth meet your collarbone and your hands reach for his messy hair.

“There?” He asks against you, a smile in his voice as he lets his teeth gather your skin again. The spot he finds makes you dizzy, you feel the heat spread across your cheeks and the tips of your ears.

Tamaki is still stuck in his own chains, fighting against them as he focuses on the way you twitch for him, the way your body rolls when he bites harder.

So she likes it.

Your body heats up, it's all so overwhelming. It's so different from anything you've ever felt, and you can't believe it's with him.

Then his kisses get more sloppy, his teeth are sharper against you. He leaves you shining with his spit, painted in blooming purple and red bruises as he begins his journey down your body.

"Da-addy." You sniffle when he bites into the underside of your breast.

It doesn't feel loving, it doesn't feel passionate, it just feels rough.

"Hush." He mumbles against you, "If you can't take this I might as well stop now." He looks up at you, challenging you.

"I can t-take it, I can." You breathe, nodding, looking at him with begging eyes, "Please, don't stop."

He honest to god growls against you. You couldn't possibly know what you do to him, how sweet your willingness sounds, how beautiful you look laid out for him. He knows he should take his time, and he resents that fact. He almost resents you for being so sweet and needy. With all the things he wants to do to you, he almost, almost, wishes you had at least some experience. This makes you his completely, though, and he wouldn’t trade that for anything.

His hot mouth moves lower and lower until he's tonguing at your hip bone, pulling the skin into his mouth so he can work his teeth against it. He will mark you wherever he can, as long as you'll let him.

Your hips roll up against him, making him smirk at how needy you're acting.

"Ask for it." He whispers, hungry hands slide up the outsides of your thighs, "Ask for what you want."

His fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, sending the breath from your lungs as he glares up at you. He lets his wet tongue loll out to give a teasing flick against the crux of your thigh.

You take a deep breath in and cling to the sheets for dear life, "Please, use your mouth on me."

He smiles so sweetly then, looking mildly amused.

"Here?" He goes back to that same spot, sucking and teasing, looking all too pleased with himself.

"Be specific, angel, tell me where you need me."

Tamaki knows for a fact that he didn't have to spend his time making you ask for things, he knows what you want, he knows how to give them to you. He could take whatever he needs, probably without much a fight from you, but what fun would that be? He would miss the pretty blush creeping across your skin, and the sweet little tears in your big eyes. No, he wouldn't be missing this, not for the world.

"I wanna feel your tongue, please, use your mouth on m-my cunt." You shiver, timid and uncertain about your phrasing.

It seems to do the trick though, because Tamaki's eyes nearly roll to the back of his head.

He answers with a low moan before grabbing you by the insides of your thighs so he can spread you open. Once the air of the room hits you, you're made painfully aware of just how soaked you are.

It makes Tamaki look like a wild man, all blown out pupils blushing cheeks.

Almost in slow motion, he presses his tongue into the spot right above your clit, making you whine and buck against his mouth.

"Needy little thing." He says, giving your thighs a gentle squeeze, "But I suppose I have teased enough."

Then he's on you, and the second his tongue meets your weak spot you know you're ruined. You know that not one person will ever hold a candle to Tamaki Amajiki.

He pulls away for only a second, just to whisper praises up to you, "Your cunt tastes like everything I've ever needed."

You huff at him in disbelief, not knowing what to say or do, heart soaring because of his confession.

Then he dives back in, and he gets sloppy with it, setting a pace that feels so good it aches. The heat spreads through every limb, and settles somewhere deep in your chest. Everything tingles and burns, and breathing seems nearly impossible.

Internally, Tamaki is raging. He’s so close to losing it, he feels himself slipping, your taste spreads across his tongue is the culmination of months of watching and waiting and wanting. He wants to drown in you, he wants to rip you to shreds. No more watching you through windows, no more fucking his fist while he wishes with everything he has that it was your precious little pussy. He has you now, spread open and vulnerable. He knows he could shove your face into the pillows and let loose on you, stuff every hole with an invasive tentacle, the thought makes him even more feral, it makes him work even harder as he eats you.

Every roll of his tongue against your clit makes you throb and buck, which makes him growl and push you down against the mattress. He's loud and messy, slurping and moaning, letting it drip down his chin and his throat, never once letting up.

Your head is thrown back against the pillows, eyes drilled shut. You know damn well if you saw him, you wouldn't last another second. He builds you up until your thighs are trembling and you're a whiny little mess.

Perfect.

Suddenly, the texture of his tongue changes drastically. It's much more slippery, and much thicker. Your head shoots up, and you nearly sob at what you see. Tamaki, with his eyes wild and his jaw dropped, is letting a wicked looking tentacle hang from his mouth.

His quirk.

He smirks up at you as the tip of it writhes against your clit, flicking and circling as he watches the tears start to fall from your face. You can't possibly keep up, you didn't know anything could ever feel this good.

You watch the suction cups ripple as he moves the muscle against you, then he does the unthinkable. He latches one of them onto your clit. Your eyes cross and you bring a fist to your mouth so you can bite on it and muffle your screams.

He hates that.

With another rumbling growl, he lets his hands turn to tentacles as well. You watch helplessly as he snakes them up your arms, ripping your hand away from your mouth so he can pin both limbs to the bed. The tentacles are strong, surprisingly warm, and so damn slippery.

It's hard to tell if you're close to the edge, it's felt that way the whole time, everything feels so hot and tight and good.

He smiles as you cry out and thrash against the bed, full of admiration for the usefulness of his own quirk.

“Too much! D-daddy, it’s too much.” You sniffle out as you feel a stinging feeling in your cunt, it’s not necessarily an unpleasant sting, but it’s too much.

He ignores your objection, choosing to simply suck harder at your overstimulated sweet spot. He revels in your pitifully low threshold, planning to do so much worse to your poor, inexperienced body.

The ache in your cunt continues to push the tears from your eyes, and eventually, drool from your mouth. The suction cup works dutifully against your clit, making you feel so overwhelmed you don't know if you can cum.

Then you feel the prodding at your entrance.

Then you really scream.

Holding that one little suction cup to your clit, he snakes the tip of his tentacle into your dribbling hole. He furrows his dark brows and moans against you when he feels how tight you are, desperate to feel the velvety walls around his cock.

"Holy fucking shit." You gasp.

He watches the dramatic rise and fall of your quaking chest, your baffled eyes trying to keep track of everything happening to your body, and he swears he falls even more in love.

You're so willing, so compliant, so at his mercy.

He crooks the tip of the tentacle towards himself just a bit, and it's like you've been struck by lightning. You cum hard, harder than you ever have. You're a mess of twitching limbs, shivering as your cunt clenches so hard your feel it in your fucking chest. You sob into the air, broken and tearful as he works you through it.

You feel the hold on your arms tighten as your body arches away from the mattress. As you feel every inch of you ignite, you know that you're ruined for everyone else.

As soon as you lower yourself so you're flat to the mattress, the tentacles around your arms slip away and turn back into his hands.

The one between your legs still plays with you a little bit, prodding at your clit, lapping up your mess. Tamaki laughs as you jump and twitch, whimpering and gasping as he milks your body for every after shock you can give him.

You watch him pull the tentacle back into his mouth, flicking it over his lips to gather your release before disappearing into his mouth. You watch his eyes flutter shut, you watch him shiver and you hear the sweetest little moan in the back of his throat.

“You’re pretty when you cry.” He mumbles, looking up at you with the most tender look in his eyes. It’s a harsh contrast with all the cum dripping down his chin.

“You move a lot, too. It’s fun.” He states, almost like some kind of twisted review, “I don’t mind holding you down like that.”

The drop in the tone of his voice makes a chill creep up your spine.

“In fact…” He lifts himself up so he can start to crawl up your body, “I really, really enjoyed it.”

You gasp for words, wind stolen from your lungs as he presses his messy mouth against your sternum.

“Something tells me you did too.” He whispers.

Your voice is finally found, somewhere deep in your chest, hidden and nearly forgotten, “What makes you say that?” You ask timidly.

He pulls his head up to look down at you with a confident smirk, “The mess you made.”

To prove his point, he swipes two fingers through your folds, gathering your creamy release before holding it up to the light. He looks so damn proud, like he’s showing off.

“Messy girl.” He smiles, as you watch him bring his coated fingers to his lips, sucking the sin off with a greedy pop from his lips.

“Oh, how selfish of me.” He sighs before grabbing you by the chin, “I should share.”

He pulls your mouth open then slowly leans over you so he can push the mess back through his lips. You oblige like a robot, stunned by the debauchery, letting him guide you through this act. He lets it fall from his lips slowly, creating a long string from his mouth to yours. The second it hits your tongue, something clicks for you. Something dark and smokey settles in your gut, something all consuming and blinding. It rids you of boundaries and reservations, it fills you with nothing but the man in front of you.

He watches you with a pointed gaze, shutting your jaw for you so you can swallow what he gave you.

“What do you say?” He asks.

You feel the burn in your chest, the embers in your skin, “More, please.”

“Fucking hell," The words tumble out as a breath mostly, "You want more?" He questions, grabbing you by the wrist so he can place your palm just above the waist of his pants.

You nod up at him, vision blurred by the heat of his skin against your palm.

"Then take it." He leans down to say it, biting off the words.

A challenge.

You can't possibly disappoint him, you can't possibly leave him wanting. Take it? How are you supposed to take it?

In a wild moment of confidence, mostly your body moving without the permission of your mind, you wrap your legs around his lean hips so you can flip him onto his back.

Your eyes lock the second you feel him pressing against you, hard and thick, and terribly intimidating in length.

He watches you for a moment, then hastily grabs you by the back of the neck so he can pull you down for another kiss. It's hot and needy, full of wicked want and unabashed selfishness. It tickles your ribs, creeps up your neck, and secures itself greedily around all of your common sense.

Tamaki had no intentions of letting you take anything, it's a game to him. He'll let you have your moment, let you feel like you have the reigns, but he'll take it right back. His has you under control, he vows that he always will.

Your chest flutters with a clawing, aching feeling.

More more more.

"Fuck me." It's a prayer, whimpered against his delicate lips, "Please, fuck me." You dig your hands into his hair, cherishing the sweet noises they leave him as you beg.

Under control.

"Tell me you need it." He sighs, answering your prayer by sending his hands down to work urgently at his belt.

"Tell me you need me."

You bring your face back from his just enough to look into his dark eyes, and you see tears welling in them.

He needs to feel needed.

"Please, I need it, I need you, Suneater."

Everything freezes for a brief second, the air thickens and his eyes darken as you wait with a held breath for his next move.

Then, everything is flying around you. You feel the bite of fingertips against your waist, your stomach hits the mattress, possibly the sound of his pants being taken off. Your senses are dulled by the raging swirl of emotions beating inside you as your hips are lifted up, and a hand shoves your face into the pillow.

"Who's your hero?" His voice is rough, his hand gathers your hair and cranks your head to the side, "Who is your fucking hero?" He's barking the words out now, harsh and demanding.

And holy hell does it get you going.

"You are! You're my hero, Suneater." You cry out, craning your neck to look at him.

You expected furrowed brows, a straight mouth and furious eyes. What you're met with is nothing of the sort. A soft pink blush across his cheeks and the tips of his pointed ears, tears wetting his cheek, and a quivering lip.

With your eyes on him, he makes a show of sliding his hand down his front so he can grab at his length. He lets it fall against your ass, heavy and painfully hard.

"Don't forget that." He says simply, sliding his thick head down through your slicked lips.

The contact makes you both shudder deep in your souls.

"Daddy, please." Your voice is pitiful as you fist the sheets and press back against him.

"So slutty." He muses, releasing your hair so he can run his nails down your back, "Poor thing, never been fucked, needs it so bad, doesn't she?"

You nod fervently and fuss as he presses his head against your tight hole. You tense and shiver, not at all prepared for what's to come.

"I need it, I need you, please please please." You have one thought now, no reservations, you need him.

"I'm gonna ruin this little cunt." He says, a warning tone in his voice.

The hand that was tracing your spine suddenly feels very cold and wet.

His damn quirk.

He takes his time, letting the thick tentacle slither around your waist. It wraps around you twice, teasing you with the pops of the suction cups, leaving pretty purple circles all over your abdomen.

He lifts you easily, pulling you up so your back is pressed against his chest.

"Ruin it, please, it's yours, I'm yours." You sniffle, looking down at your trapped position.

With a low, menacing growl, he sinks his teeth into your neck, and his cock into your heat.

Tamaki holds his breath, willing himself not to fill you up right this second. You're too damn tight, so warm and velvety. You're so perfect, and so completely his.

You sob into the air, hands reaching out to hold the headboard as you feel like you're being ripped apart.

"Oh don't scream, Angel, people might think something's wrong." His voice is shaking now, and the hold on your waist tightens.

You focus on relaxing, letting your walls lose their tension, but it's all fruitless. He's too big, he fills you too well, and all you can do is take it.

"Here, let me give that mouth something to do."

His other hand comes around to hold your throat, turning each finger into a tentacle again. It leaves you reeling and gasping as he presses further into you, wrapping what would be his middle finger around your throat. He wraps it around twice, like he did with your waist. The appendage comes up to rest its tip on your bottom lip.

The sensation makes you dizzy, especially when it finally snakes into your panting mouth. It doesn't really taste like anything, it just feels wet and slick, the texture of the suction cups is the strangest thing about it. He rocks his hips so gently, squeezing you tighter everywhere he's holding you.

You don't feel like a moth drawn to a flame, you feel like a moth caught in a spider's web. All tangled up, not willing to fight to escape, not even wanting to.

"You're so damn tight." He stutters out, pressing his hips flush against your own.

You cry out and gag against the tentacle stuffing your mouth, digging your nails into the headboard as he chuckles behind you.

"You're such a pretty little mess for me. Your cunt's already dripping."

You don't doubt it, it has to be with how badly your core aches around him as he stretches you.

Your thighs start to tremble as you wait for him to move, sniffling as the tears fall from your eyes and the drool spills from your lips.

A pretty little mess indeed.

Slowly, he drags his hips back with a hiss before pushing back in. He takes his time with it, building an agonizing pace that offers you no release. There's only the pressure, only your clit screaming for attention, only the maddening tease of his head against your sweet spot with every torturous push in.

"Fuck angel, I gotta break this pussy in, don't I?" His words pull another pitiful moan from you, nodding and whining is all you're capable of.

His picks up speed just enough to make you tense even more, still painful, still mind numbing.

"You look so fucking pretty on the end of my cock."

His words pour over you like hot wax, heating you up, making you drip. The heat seeps deep into your skin, making you squirm and clench.

He speeds his thrusting up slightly, then more, and more, and more, until you’re shrieking and choking against the tentacle stuffing your mouth. Your hands fly up to claw at it, wanting to tell him how it feels, wanting to thank him for the way he’s fucking you.

It’s still painful, each thrust splits you open with a sting, but it’s so damn good. The sharp stretching is absolutely spectacular, and it sends your brain into somewhere dark and smokey, it leaves you with a wide open feeling in your chest. It leaves you wanting more.

“What’s the matter, sweet thing?” He taunts, “Tell me about it, then, how’s Daddy make you feel?” He turns each tentacle back into a finger slowly, pulling out of your mouth, leaving you a gasping mess.

Through spit and tears, you praise him, words spewing out between moans as your body jolts from each punishing snap of his hips.

“So fucking good! You make me feel so good!” You cry, clinging to his forearm as he brings you closer to his chest.

The tentacle around your waist starts to slither down your stomach, “This isn’t even half of what I’m capable of doing to you,” The tip of it gives the hood of your clit a teasing flick, “-and you’re already such a slut for me.” His chuckle is dark and full as the tip of his skilled tentacle zeros in on your sweet spot, rubbing and wriggling against it until you’re screaming.

“Say it. Say you’re my little slut.” His words are a harsh demand against your ear, leaving no room for disobedience.

“I- f-fuck- I can’t! I ca-an’t!” You sob, not able to catch your breath between thrusts.

Tamaki eats that right up, swelling with pride as he fucks you speechless, delirious with the fact that he finally has your cunt gripping his cock.

Before he can bark another order at you, you finally pull the words out of your closing throat, "I'm your slut," You gasp as drool rolls down your chin, "I'm your little slut."

He throws his head back and throws everything he has into every thrust, his moans are obscene, high pitched and broken as he feels how hard you squeeze him when he speeds up the tip of his tentacle against your clit.

"Give it to me, I feel that greedy cunt tryin' to milk me, give me that fuckin cum." He huffs against your ear. Your entire body seizes up, shaking violently as ribbons of pleasure shoot through you. You pulse around Tamaki almost violently, earning some very rough sounding moans from him as he works you through it.

Your orgasm lasts for what feels like an eternity, you shiver with every throb of your walls. It possesses that same almost painful pleasure, and it's everything you've ever wanted. At some point, the tentacle around your waist turns to a hand, still absentmindedly rubbing you as you come down.

He lets your torso fall forward, leaving you bent over and exposed for him. His hands smooth over your ass, and you realize he's still so fucking hard.

"Can you take more, angel?"

You nod against the tear soaked pillow you've pressed your face into, not sure that you even can, but willing to try.

"Good," He bends down to press kisses into your spine as he pulls out, "'Cause you're going to."

He pulls out, almost full of regret, wanting to live the rest of his life buried inside you.

Now he can have some fun, mind cleared slightly by finally feeling you come undone around him. He's still hazy, still slightly frenzied, but less ravenous, less of a starved man waiting for his meal, more of a well fed man waiting for desert.

His hands hold your waist gently so he can guide you onto your back. You oblige, more than willing to let him have his way.

You finally get a good look at him, and you're astounded by just how pretty his dick looks. All pale and pink, swollen and shiny, it makes you dizzy with admiration.

"You're terribly beautiful." He whispers, cradling your waist so he can worship your stomach with soft kisses, "I don't believe you're even real."

Sweetness oozes through your tingling limbs, pouring over you like warm honey. His tender mouth brings you back down, soothes you into a state of catharsis. Your body settles, but your heart picks back up when his lips are on your hips.

Your eyes meet his, and you share the sentiment that he just might not be real. He pears up at you through a mess of indigo hair, eyes full of what you can only describe as devotion.

He explores your body with his hands, dipping his thumbs into every crook he can, palming handfuls of your plush thighs. He seems to have a soft spot for your hips though, pulling at your love handles, letting his breath speed up each time until he's panting against you.

With every pull of his hands, you bend for him, push into him, work with him. You both find a rhythm, falling into an easy dance of grabbing and needing.

"I want to keep you." He breathes, placing a hand on either side of your waist so he can lift himself over you, "I want to have you."

He gathers your legs while he speaks, hooking his hands under your knees so he can fold you up.

"You have me." You whisper, reaching out to lay your fingers on the sides of his ribs.

You watch his skin twitch under your touch, you watch his eyebrows sag into an almost heartbroken look.

He looks down between your bodies, quivering when he sees his heavy cock resting against your stomach. He feels so incredibly proud of you in that moment, for taking him so well, and asking for more.

She's mine. She said I have her.

The concept brings another wave of primal desire crashing down on his self control.

His fingers dig into your skin, biting at the flesh, spreading you open for him as he puts his weight on your legs.

You clench in anticipation, teased by the pressure of his hot length resting against you.

"I can take it." You say quietly, sliding your hands up his lean body so you can lace them into his inky hair.

He melts into your touch, stunned by your gorgeous submission.

"Fuck, angel." His words are shattered as they fall from his lips.

You reach down between your bodies and wrap your hand around his weeping tip. He trembles and hiccups as you push him down so he's lined up with where you need him.

"Please, I want all of it." m.

“Careful.” He pants, looking down at you with a warning in his eyes.

It doesn’t create hesitation in you though, only curiosity.

“We’re being careful now?” You tease, sliding him up and down your slit.

“You little devil.” He hisses, grabbing your wrist harshly, “You think you’re cute, don’t you?”

You freeze and blink up at him, once again shocked by his quick change in temperament.

“You wanna act like a tease now?” He questions, bringing your hand up so he can press it into the mattress with his.

“Did you find yourself a cute little attitude?” His voice drips with venom, it bites at your insides and melts your skin.

“That’s ok, angel.” He lets your hand go so he can press on the backs of your thighs again, successfully folding you completely in half, “I’ll fuck it out of you.”

Before you can breathe, blink, or respond, he’s splitting you open with a brutal pace. He laughs deep in his chest when you cry out, he mocks you when your hands fly to his abs in an attempt to slow his assault. A wicked smile spreads across his pretty face when tears stain your flushed cheeks once again.

“Cryin’ again so soon? Is it too much, baby? You need Daddy to slow down?” He’s testing you, only thrusting harder as he taunts you for your sobbing and moaning.

“No!” You gasp between tears, “Don’t stop, please, fuck me like that.”

“That’s my girl.”

His thrusts are ruthless, sharp, unforgiving. He rocks your body and the bed with each plunge in, headboard crashing against the wall. Each drive into you is enchanting, it teaches you something new, opens new doors, shows you a new, brilliant world of depravity. The way the pleasure shoots all the way up your spine with every drag of his cock, it’s something you want to feel until you die, you’d even be happy if this is the way you die.

You watch him disappear inside of you over and over, pulling out just as quick, covered in slick and sin. Tamaki is in his own feral world, watching your lovely face crumble and pout as he fills you. His hands are angry against the back of your thighs, nails digging in hard enough to bring little pearls of scarlet to the surface.

When you start to whine from the sting, he flashes you a lazy smile before stuffing his fingers into your mouth. He presses the blood covered fingertips into your tongue just enough to make drool spill from the sides of your mouth.

“Hush, you’ll learn to love it.”

His smile turns wolfish when he watches your eyes roll back. It’s all so black-hearted, it’s everything you’ve kept yourself from, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

You both throb and cry then, your bodies smack as they meet, obscene and wet as you chase your undoing. Tamaki knows he’s not going to last much longer, and he curses himself for it. He doesn’t want to stop, especially when you wince so sweetly when his thrusts are a little too deep. He wants to watch you suck his fingers forever, crying against his palm as he turns you into his perfect little slut.

“You’re gonna give me one more, aren’t you, angel? You owe me that, I saved your life after all.” He slides his fingers from your mouth, dragging your spit down your chin before grabbing you by the throat, “Answer if you can, I know it must be hard to speak when you’re getting fucked this good.”

His words drown you in lust, your hands claw at his back, painting angry red lines down the pretty porcelain canvas, “Take it! Fuck- Take it, Suneater, take it all.”

It’s not a demand, it’s a plea, it’s a craving formed deep within your freshly corrupted heart.

Your begging pulls desperate, whiny sounds from him. With his eyes screwed shut he lets the hand on your thigh manifest the tentacles in place of his fingers. He throws all of his energy into that, trying to stall the twitching of his dick as your hot insides massage him with their relentless pulsing.

“Are you sure about that?” He tests, letting the tentacles snake around your thigh before slithering down to where your bodies meet.

Immediately, one starts flicking at your clit, making your back go rigid as he grins down at his good work.

You wail his name, nails biting at his skin even more but he pays no mind. He has a mission, he’s going to take all of it.

He focuses on making his tentacles grow, two long enough to reach up your body and tug at your nipples, and one other snaking down through the mess you’re making to prod at your asshole. Your eyes widen with shock as your body ignites, it’s too much, it’s all too much. Every sensation is heightened, every poke and flick and thrust sends shards of pleasure flying through you, piercing you from every direction.

You let yourself cry completely then, throwing your head against Tamaki’s collar bone before sobbing into his chest. You know you’re cumming, you can feel it somewhere amongst all the other stimulation, but it’s nearly drowned out, and Tamaki is still fucking you just as hard as he was when this all started.

“More, you have more for me, I fucking know it.” He huffs as he finally pushes into your ass with the tentacle.

The ones on your nipples latch on with their suction cups as he fills you more and more.

“Give it to me, angel, give it all to your hero.”

That’s the final push, the last thing you need to send you into the most frenzied orgasm you’ve ever experienced. Your vision goes white as your body convulses, ripped apart by the flames of euphoria that turn everything you’ve ever known to ash. Somewhere in the distance you hear Tamaki praising you, telling you how tight you feel, how beautiful you look, how good you are for him.

It’s lost in the fray, though, all blurring together as you shake violently around him. The only thing that brings you back slightly, is the break in his voice when he sobs, “I’m gonna stuff that little cunt with my cum, I’m gonna make you mine.”

Your hand is at the back of his neck instantly, pulling him down for a messy, aimless kiss. His moans spill into your mouth as his hips falter, turning to slow, stuttering thrusts as he starts to pump his release deep into you.

“I’m yours - I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours.” You chant it against his lips as his tears fall to your cheeks, mixing with your own as you both shatter for each other.

Coming back down isn't easy at all. It's slow and needy, your hands still pulling at whatever skin they can grab, hips rolling against each other, trying with everything you both have to prolong that rapturous feeling.

Frantically, painfully, he pulls himself out of you. He slides his hot mouth down your body, nipping and sucking as he descends to your messy cunt. He spreads your legs wide so he can bury his face between them. He teases your clit briefly, but moves quickly to press his open mouth against your hole.

Your skin boils as you watch the nasty show. His eyes cross sinfully and flutter shut as he tongue at your well used pussy. When he pulls back, his chin is covered in some wretched mixture of your combined releases. He moves back up your body like an animal stalking its prey.

He grabs your jaw and you open so willingly. His mouth is on yours instantly, pushing the warm liquid onto your tongue with his own. It’s a spunky, intense flavor, almost overwhelming as he spreads it around your mouth. It creates a dark, blurry feeling in your chest, though. It makes you feel alive, it makes you want more.

He pulls back slowly, a thick string of saliva and sin connecting your lips as he pants down at you.

“You’re such a good little girl.”

His lips are everywhere, pressing against your cheekbones, your nose, your forehead. His hands return to normal so he can cradle your face. You both lay there, still joined, catching your breath.

"Angel?"

The tenderness in his voice pulls you back down to earth, and when you open your eyes, you find yourself lost in his. It’s a harsh but marvelous contrast with the sharp edges of his previous behavior.

"Does anything h-hurt?" He asks timidly.

The stutter is back, the anxious look in his eyes, the restlessness in his hands.

You reach out to hold his face like he's holding yours, "Tamaki, no, nothing hurts. You made me feel so good."

You don't ever want to be a source of hesitation for him again. You want to make it better. He's brilliant, he's brave, he saved your damn life. He doesn't need to be so scared around you.

"You're my hero, Suneater." You pull him down for a soft, intimate kiss.

He breathes out against you, more of his tears wet your cheeks but you don't mind.

He's allowed to feel this, he earned this.

When the kiss breaks he searches your face, waiting for you to laugh at him, to push him off, to change your mind.

You don't, though.

You stay there with him, loving him and full of him.

"And you're mine."

You both settle there, kissing skin that hasn't been kissed before, finding ways to make each other fall even more.

Tamaki tells himself he did the right thing. You don't ever have to know why Dabi chose your house to break into. You don't ever need to be told that he spent endless nights watching you from the window, because he has you know.

It would be wrong of him to tell you, you wouldn't understand it. It would break your heart and ruin everything. Then, it would get messy. You might try to run away, and that would mean he'd have to keep you in different ways.

He shakes the thoughts from his head. He can keep you like this, laid out and blushing for him, so soft and beautiful.

You belong to him now, and that's all that there is.

"Can I take care of you?” He asks softly, playing with the necklace he gave you as he gives you a shy glance.

“You just did.” You let yourself laugh a little as you play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“No, not like that.” He smiles softly, dipping down to kiss your neck so softly you almost can’t feel it, “Like this.”

He presses his lips against a mark you didn’t know he made, lingering for a moment as his eyes flutter shut.

“These say that you’re mine.” His thumb traces over one of the circular bruises on your ribs, “They say you have someone protecting you.”

The prospect makes your heart soar. He’s right, belonging to him means you’ll always be safe, you’ll always have somebody willing to fight for you, maybe even somebody willing to stay with you.

“This says that you belong to me.” He loops a finger around the delicate pearl on your necklace, pulling gently, not enough to make you go anywhere, but enough to make you feel the metal tug against the back of your neck.

‘You do belong to me, don’t you.” He asks, a wild, fearful look in his eyes.

You do, you just told him so, you just cried to him and vowed that you were his just moments ago.

“I do, I belong to you, I swear.” You reassure him, pulling a deep sigh from his chest.

You don’t understand the way he aches for you, the way he’s addicted to you. He was already hooked, from just glances and flighty touches. Now, having felt your soft skin, the tuck of your waist, having seen you cry and heard you call his name, he’s willing to admit his obsession.

He does take care of you, he does it beautifully. He carries you to the bathroom where he sets you on the edge of the tub. He fills it with warm, soapy water before picking you up bridal style so he can settle into the water with you in his lap.

Neither of you bother to turn a light on, content with the glow of the moon shining through the skylight. Tamaki paints your shoulders with soft kisses as he rubs soothing circles into your back. He takes his sweet time, wiping away the sweat and the tears, mindful of the tender spots on the back of your thighs.

“Beautiful, you’re so beautiful.” He sighs, “An angel, nothing less.”

You melt into him, lost in his praise, blinded by his devotion as well as your own.

Tamaki is just as lost, if not more, only becoming more possessive with every gentle touch, with every whispered adoration.

This is how it’s meant to be, and you don’t ever need to know how it all fell into place. He did the right thing, after all. This isn’t a problem, he’s in love. He’s in love and now he has you.

He intends on keeping it that way.

1K notes · View notes

squarefriend · 3 years

Text

Mermay ended yesterday, but I’m sitting on the beach at this very moment so let’s fucking do this:

🌴🐬BEACH HEAD CANNONS!!!🐬🌴

Chara

❤️ They are actually rather neutral over the ocean. Far more of a skipping stones and playing in the lake kind of kid. Though, they do have a respect for the water’s raw power and changing tides. (Also seeing how much Undyne loves it made them want to appreciate the ocean more)

❤️ Thanks to being attached to Frisk’s soul, they kinda have to go to the beach all the time now. They like to go out as far as they can and walk along to the bottom, or float above Frisk and try to freak them out.

❤️ All that being said, they ADORE sharks. They nerd out every time they get to go to the aquarium. (Then get kinda embarrassed about it).

❤️ They have (on more than one occasion) convinced Frisk that because they’re a ghost they can see all the ghosts of everyone who’s drowned, and that yes, pirates ARE coming to get them...... It backfired at the notion that now Frisk WANTED to go meet the ghost pirates.

❤️ Had a brief period of wanting to be a mermaid, purely because A) Not a human and B) Typically man eaters. It suited their style

Frisk

❤️ They LOVE the ocean.... or rather, they love the beach. There’s one right at the edge of Ebbott City, so in the summer, they get to go up every weekend or so. And you can bet on that weekend, they have an absolute ball with whomever family/friend took them this time.

❤️ Their favorite part is exploring. They love to run around on the beach, looking for shells or any critters, as well as going out into as deep as the can in the ocean (usually only to be called back by their mom). Speak of the devil, Toriel bought them a snorkeling kit for their gotcha day and that thing has been used religiously ever since!

❤️ Every time they go the the car to go home, Frisk has to be checked by an adult (not either of the skelebros, they are WAY to lenient on this one) to make sure that they don’t have any stow away sea critters. One too many times of Frisk trying to keep a pet crab.

❤️ They take swimming lessons from Undyne! There were only a couple of misunderstandings over wether or not a humans could breathe underwater, but its all been sorted out! They’re doing really well!

❤️ They refuse to learn how to dive. Undyne has been trying to teach them for MONTHS now. It’s cannon ball or nothing, and they’re determined to keep it that way.

Flowey

❤️ Back when he was Asriel, he’d wanted to see the ocean. They don’t exactly have HUGE bodies of water in the underground like that, basically only the river. And no one swims in the river. Add in Chara’s talk of mermaids and their stories about lakes and skipping stones and all that.... It had been a big goal of his. Now that he’s there, and without the capabilities to swim or get in the water, and without the person who said they’d show him the surf.... it’s uh, it’s lost its appeal.

❤️ Frisk and Papyrus tried to get him to go out in one of those dog floaties. It looked pretty ridiculous and nearly tipped over a couple of times. Inevitably it was decided that it was just best to just keep him on the shore or in the shallows strapped to someone’s chest.

❤️ Usually he just sits on the shore with Paps, Frisk, or Toriel. He (begrudgingly) likes to make sand castles. He’s actually gotten quite good at them. Either that or eat nice cream.

❤️ Papyrus made him tiny sunglasses. He wears them every time they go to the beach.

❤️ When he does go into the water, he likes to stick his head under the serf and try to find fish. He actually managed to catch one in his mouth once, both impressive and terrifying.

Toriel

❤️ She is fond of the beach. Not so much the water, but she does enjoy the occasional swim with Frisk. Would probably like going out on a boat, though she has never tried it.

❤️ Usually while the rest of the family swims, she’s on the shore in her beach chair, reading a good book and keeping a watchful eye on her kids. She can usually get through half of the thing before its time to go home.

❤️ That being said, when she does go out in the water (usually to cool off or check on Frisk and/or Flowey) she is remarkably good at floating along. That, and she’s abit of a beast when it comes to X-treme monkey in the middle. That lady is huge and can use that height when she needs to. Also she has to shake off when she gets out of the water.

❤️ She ALWAYS has a beach bag on her, and in that beach bag is pretty much anything you’d ever hope to need. Pool toys, goggles, fresh water, extra sunscreen, at least three books, money, Your scocial security number, you name it.

❤️ Toriel’s usually the go to ‘hold tired swimmer gently’ person. And has done so for everyone in the main cast but Mettaton and Undyne. You could just fall asleep in those big ole’ arms.

Sans

❤️ He’s, as with most things, pretty nuetral about the ocean. Though, he adores the fact that it’s a day he can just slack off and relax in the sun (and sometimes water). He’s usually on the beach in a beach chair or sitting in a pool floaty, just drifting along. Sometimes he’s just latched onto Paps or Toriel, it’s kinda a wild card where he is at any given time.

❤️ He has never been sober ONCE while at the beach with the family. Mostly thanks to the fact that he somehow always has a martini in hand. No one knows where he gets it, let alone how it is almost always at least half way full. Needless to say, he’s at least buzzed by the end of the day.

❤️ Every time they go to the beach, he wears the most insane sunglasses. I’m talking Elton John style, but if they came from dollar tree. Normally it’s a pineapple pair, but they change on a whim. Once again, no ones entirely sure where they come from.

❤️ He briefly moved the illegal hotdog stand to beach, before the threat of getting fined was close enough to scadattle. This, the limited addition ‘Colddogs’ (now for 5g, wait he meant 50g, actually its 500-) became a thing. They were followed shortly by ‘Frozendogs’ (available in 50 flavors!)

❤️ The two never breathe a word of it, but every once in awhile Papyrus will rent a canoe and the two of them will go out on the water. They only do this at the dead of night, when the water is still and clear. Way out past the buoys, where it’s hard to see the shore, the moon and the stars bounce off the water in a shifting, funhouse esc reflection. Being out there, together, in practically silence..... It brings a lot of comfort to the two of them. It reminds Sans that yeah, this is real, and some things are worth remembering.

Papyrus

❤️ Paps is very fond of the shallows, but not a huge fan off big, open water. Unless he’s in the comfort of a canoe or boat. It’s just too big of a space. One can feel so... alone out there. But!! If he’s in chest or higher or with a group of close friends, he’s good!!

❤️ He bought special spandex gloves to wear in the water, ones that cover his fingers and palms without being skin (bone???) tight. They help him tread the water better, since he’s the opposite of buoyant. Which is definitely the only reason he bought them! No other reason in sight! Why would you even ask that?!

❤️ He, Undyne, and Frisk play ALOT of beach games, all far more extreme than their originals. The current turnomemt is over X-Treme volleyball, this time featuring antigravity magic and spears. Frisk is, somehow, winning.

❤️ A good portion of the time, he eats nice cream and makes sand castles with Flowey. Their creations are startlingly structurally sound and flourished. Though, they are also usually next to a life sized sand-Papyrus. No one knows where the sand came from.

❤️ He tried catch and realease shark fishing with Undyne once. It um, got interesting to say the least. Especially when they tried to use Papyrus as live bait. They only had to go to the ER twice!

Undyne (Aka my entire reason for writing this)

❤️ Undyne doesn’t love the ocean. She doesn’t even like the ocean. She ADORES the ocean. You can find her there almost every day after work, sun or storm. She never realized how much she would thrive in salt water until she was there, and now she can’t believe she lived without it. Its so raw and passionate and buetiful, and she’s just at home in the waves.

❤️ Her favorite time to be out is during a good storm, when the ocean is at her roughest. Undyne has learned how to boogie board and body surf since she got on the surface, and uses those huge waves to catch some air. She WANTS to learn how to surf, but has yet to find someone to teach her. Storms are also the best for letting the water roll over her and letting herself drift in the tides, both are pretty damn amazing feelings.

❤️ Because she can breathe and see under the water, she also likes to swim out really deep into the open ocean. No one in the family can follow, but it gives her a lot of time to think. Also, there are sometimes HUGE fish out there, which she greatly enjoys seeing and interacting with. She’s. she’s fought a tiger shark before. And probably other, larger and more dangerous things. (Also when she gets home, Alphys always talks about how her kisses taste like salt. Undyne loves it).

❤️ Before she became Asgore’s body gaurd, Undyne was pretty much out of work. Not a whole lot of people wanted a massive, sharp toothed, she-shark selling retail in their stores. But, being a fish and all, she got managed to get a job as a life gaurd over the summer! This ended in her actually giving swim lessons to a couple of kids (starting with Frisk)!! She is actually a pretty good trainer and still teaches a few kids every once in awhile over summer breaks.

❤️ Her and Asgore went on a fishing trip once! The boat nearly capsized, Undyne ended up going in to fish instead of using the pole, there were life lessons taught about patience, and Asgore got horrendously away sick. Needless to say, it was a good trip. They still have pictures on Asgore’s fridge!

Alphys

❤️ As much as her girlfriend loves it, she’s not actually a huge fan of the water. It’s overwhelming and dries out her scales, and when she’s in super deep it makes her really uncomfortable. She’s stared into oblivion before and, well, it’s not a good feeling. The deep sea reminds her of that.

❤️ That being said, she LOVES the beach itself. She could sun bathe for hours while Undyne is swimming. Just pop on her head phones, lay on the sand, and embrace her lizard heratage! Also, she likes to watch her hot girlfriend do hot things like catch fish in her teeth and throw skeletons, so it’s a win win.

❤️ Naturally, this means a lot of her and Undyne’s date end up at the beach one way or anouther. Every time they go now, Alphy makes a point of collecting a seashell. They all hang on a string over her bed, it’s her favorite part of the room.

❤️ More times than not, if the sand is particularly nice and warm, Alphys falls asleep on it. Like, hard core passed out asleep. She just loves the fluffy parts of the sand so much??? And it’s so comfortable??? And she’s gotten more than afew overheating from sleeping ALL day, but she can’t help herself. It’s just too cozy!

❤️ Her favorite thing about the ocean is always going to be seeing Undyne’s smile though. She loves it. She loves the way her girlfriend’s kisses taste after she’s been in the sea. She loves how content the girl is after a good swim, and how cuddly they get in the living room. She loves smelling the air and holding her hand and seeing the sun on the water. She wants to spend forever in her arms, on the sand, eating nice cream and watching the sun set.

Mettaton

❤️ So. He’s a robot. Alphys is currently working on waterproofing his body, but until then he’s shore bound. That doesn’t mean he won’t done his best sun hat and glasses, steal a life gaurd’s chair, and pose dramatically on the beach though!

❤️ Truth be told, he actually quite enjoys long walks on the beach. His boots are well protected enough to go a way into the water as well, so he takes them sometimes with Alphys. Also, night time on the beach holds SPECTACULAR song writing material! There’s something so inspirational about the atmosphere.

❤️ That being said, summer concerts are the bomb. Litterally. There’s pyrotechnics. He’s not as big a star as he was in the underground, but some local beach performances are well within his pay grade. The thrill of the stage! The cries of the people! The personality and connection to his adoring fans! The one time he crowd surfed! The fashion! It’s all just perfect!

❤️ He also frequents beach side shops, thanks to the atmosphere and outfit selection. One can NEVER go wrong with a floppy hat and a sheer coverup. It’s just impossible.

❤️ He relates WAY too hard to the little mermaid, both in the original story and Disney. There’s just something that hits too close to home about longing for humanity and a new, more comfortable body... He gets Ariel man, he gets her.

Asgore

❤️ He likes to go on long morning walks on the beach alone. There’s something comforting about the sun rise and the sound of the waves rolling around him. There’s something even more sweet about the rare conversations, only lasting a hello and small talk, all few and far between. Sometimes he finds himself wishing he had a dog to walk with him, but in the end decides against it. He’s been alone a long time, he can last one more day.

❤️ He really enjoys going shelling. Sometimes, he even likes to paint his finds and put them up in his windows. Frisk helps him, he likes that.

❤️ He’s become a vollenteer to help find and aid sea turtles’ hatch sites. He loves watching them hatch and get to the sea safely. Though he’s not supposed to, he’ll protect them from the gulls.

❤️ Thanks to being in so close to the sea, he had a brief phase of being rather in love with verities of seaweed and kelps. He tried to keep afew using water tanks, but could never quite get them right. Ah well, at least the petunias and roses are doing nicely.

❤️ He has a hard time reading or watching things about mermaids. They make him sad.

#undertale #whole cast #Asgores section made me tear up a lil ngl #I love him so much #Also!!! Fun fact of the day!!!#A lot of the stuff put on Undyne’s section are based on my own experiences and feelings! minus the breathing under water parts tho #I just. love the ocean man.#Can you tell I wanted to be a mermaid as a kid?#Because I wanted to SO bad #long post

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morgana-ren · 4 years

Text

Come Down to the Black Sea

Summary: The sea seems to call to you, but it’s not the tumultuous clash of the waves you should fear. Something lurks deep beneath the black waters, something sinister with a piqued interest and ill intent.

Rating: Teen, unless I chose to post the later chapters. Then things get all dirty and stuff.

Warnings: Siren!Shigaraki. So, there’s that. Foul language, as always. Slight struggle.

Hello, please take my garbage. This was originally a discord exclusive ficlet that ended up too fucking long. I meant to post it a while back but got distracted. I’ve read over it and I hate it a lot more than I did originally, more than I can really convey, but I feel bad for not posting anything story related for a while and maybe some folks will enjoy this. I promise I edited, I swear. Never thought I’d write something like this. Ever. and by ‘like this’, I mean no filth less than 500 words in. Either way, here it is.

“What would an ocean be without a monster lurking in the dark? It would be like sleep without dreams.”

The sea is as much a constant to you as the gentle breeze that blankets your little port town. Every action you take daily in some small way reminds you that not so far away, the unforgiving tides are lapping hungrily at the shore and the restless ocean waters stir miles from the coast. Every breath you take is somewhat tinged with the briny smell of sea salt and slight sulfur. Seafood stalls and restaurants dot the coastal region, making up a large portion of the diets and employ of the folks who make their homes here.

Yet, for as big of a part of their lives as it is, there is so little known about it.

The ocean’s mysteries are as vast as her expanse and as deep as the trenches that lurk within her depths.

Children are raised on cautionary tales, made acutely aware of the ever-present dangers of life near the open water. Rip currents and drowning, sailors lost at sea and boats that never make it to harbor. Hostile creatures that make their nests within the darkened deep beyond the pale of human experience. These things are often as mysterious as they are tragic and leave behind loved ones mourning not only the loss of lives, but the answers they’ll never have.

Sometimes, you can’t help but wonder if your kind has gotten just a bit too comfortable near the seaside.

You’re not the only one that thinks so.

It’s not by any stretch of the imagination to consider humans a loud and overwhelming presence. They dominate any space they come across, often having little to no regard for any other living creature and imposing their will on anything unfortunate enough to cross their path. Once tranquil steads are trampled, native creatures baited and hunted, and soon there’s no semblance of the beauty that once existed. Humanity leaves behind an impossibly large footprint that destroys whatever is caught beneath its crushing boot.

The ocean is no exception.

Sailors, whalers, and fishermen blot the waters, disrupting the natural cycles of the creatures that make their homes beneath them. Garbage, rot, and other various forms of filth are callously dumped and left to drift. Human hubris has seen the death of the coral reefs, the extinction of entire species, and even radiation left to leak and poison everything in its path.

The only place safe from the fecund shadow of destruction that looms wherever humans may roam are places far too treacherous to facilitate their survival.

You’ve come to believe that maybe beings that are forced to breed in that darkness grow to harbor a grudge against that which pushed them there.

Your little seaport city has always been relatively calm. It attracts enough tourists to keep it economically stable, but not so many as to make it a cultural hub. The signature beaches are only mildly clogged with tourist trap giftshops, and while the sands are busy, there’s not so much foot traffic as to make it unpleasant to visit.

Things have run relatively smoothly for your hometown, at least for the majority of your life. There’s the one-off oddity every now and again, but for the most part, it’s a fine place to live. The native folk are kind enough, and there’s decent opportunity for growth. Still, life always left something to be desired; some greater need that tugs at you and calls you toward the ocean.

Watching the fishing vessels come to and from the bay can be calming. What started as a time wasting hobby as a child has turned into a nightly practice. The marine layer makes it difficult to see early mornings, and the incessant chatter of tourists and their screeching younglings make it difficult to think during the daylight hours. It didn’t take long before the boats mattered little, and it was the time alone you valued. You’d curl up in the still-warm sand, gazing out into the horizon and watching the moon rise high above the waves, listening to the sound of the ocean and losing yourself in its subtle song.

Even as adulthood inevitably sought you out, you found time for your solitary moments that existed between no one but you and the horizon.

It brought you a sense of peace. No matter how much time passed, a part of you stayed anchored to the beach.

Yet, nothing stays peaceful forever, especially near the rocky shoreline.

It started with a missing boat.

It was the talk of the town. A small schooner had gone missing just off the coast and never returned. A band of brothers had set out for a weekend voyage and by Tuesday, no word of them had returned to shore. It had made the local news, pictures of the men aboard flashed across the screen, all smiling faces and sunburned skin. They were experienced sailors, raised on the waves and having spent more time in a boat than they did on land.

Surely, they were fine. Everyone hoped for the best.

At least until pieces of the boat washed ashore a week later, no sign of brothers anywhere.

That incident was the first of many.

Early morning swimmers began to disappear without a trace, divers vanishing without warning. More and more boats failed to make it to harbor despite calm conditions, and soon some people rejected the water all together. The missing persons board was filled with more macabre grinning faces that served as reminders than ever before, and inevitably, people became paranoid.

Superstition gained favor over logic, and tales spread of a malevolent being plaguing the coast began to spread. Children were warned against playing in the tides and tourists begin to shy away from the port. Locals and witnesses talk amongst each other, claiming to see a pair of vicious, glowing red eyes from deep within the water after dark.

Those who denied the possibility shunned those who fell into the myth, claiming that it was clearly boat lights and that folks were too finicky. There was no mysterious sea monster, only misfortune and the loose lips of idle handed fools.

Still, that didn’t account for the sudden surge in disappearances nor did it explain why no remains were ever found.

The mysteries intrigued you, but you worry little for the danger. While you weren’t entirely sure what to think, you never stepped far into the ocean on your nightly visits, mostly only skirting around the water’s edges and observing. Superstition be damned, this was the one place you felt a sense of utter calm and peace. You’re not disturbing the sea or her inhabitants; only sitting by her and admiring her beauty.

You mind your business along the beach and you think that keeps you safe, but that doesn’t spare you his wrath.

A lonely night walker, you loiter along the sands and drag your feet through the wetness. You never let the water flood past your ankles, opting to squish the damp muck beneath your toes instead. He watches you, just out of his reach and still so close. Rage simmers in his chest and his fingers twitch, longing to rip you apart, feel your heartbeat as it slows and ceases beneath his fingertips. He doesn’t dare try his luck against the surface, but you infuriate him.

Time and time again, he’s tried to lure you out.

You never fall for it, though he can tell by the way your eyes linger on the ocean a tad too long that you're curious. If he cared enough to place it, he'd say you look sad, maybe a little forlorn. After all, who comes to a deserted beach alone at night that isn't?

Always the same section of sand, always the same look on your face. You kick at the particles stuck to your grimy feet like it'll sooth whatever repressed emotion you're stewing in, and he can't help but scoff.

Humans are completely ridiculous.

Still, he watches, determined to see you inhale deep the waters around you while what little light you have left in your eyes leaves, same as the rest of your kind that has fallen prey to his deadly actions.

Night after night he waits, and night after night you resist. You don't fall for his tricks, even the ones that beguile the seasoned sailors. It's curious, he'll admit. No matter how longingly you look at the ocean like it could offer you something you need desperately, you never give into the temptation to wade just a little deeper, just take a few fucking steps forward. Perhaps you come from a sea fairing family who had elders that warned against the seduction of the low night tides, or maybe your primal human brain still holds an inkling as to what dwells deep beneath your world, but either way, it agitates him more than he'd like.

He's always had a wanderlust and never sticks around the same sections for long, but the fact that you've been evading the watery grave he dug just for you grates at him. He finds himself waiting moonrise after moonrise to see your form emerge, wracking his brain for ways to trick your feeble human mind into his waters. He's better than you, in every sense of the word. This shouldn't be this difficult.

If he didn't know better, he would say that you know. You never quite look directly at him, but your head is always turned in his direction, as if you have some sixth sense of his location. He doesn't like it. Even though you're the one in the sights of a predator, it makes him feel like a goldfish trapped in a tank. You piss him off.

But eventually, one night, his patience finally pays off.

Warily, you perch yourself on some rocks that stray into the ocean. You don't even dip your feet in, which, while not ideal, would have been enough for him to work with. Instead, you sit with your arms crossed over your knees, same distant grimace on your face that you sport every night. You seem hypnotized by the reflection of the moon on his waters, hardly blinking or even really breathing except for the occasional despondent sigh.

The thing that stirs you from your daze is a flash of silver just under the water beneath where you're sitting. At first you think it's a fish, since it's not uncommon to see them around when all the beachgoers retreat for the day, but the eerie luminescent glow is unlike any fish you've ever seen before in a life almost wholly occupied by the sea. You watch intently for a moment, hoping to see it again, but give up when all that greets you is the deep, murky blue of sunsetted waters.

Still, once you pull your eyes from the gently splashing waves, it catches your attention once more. You're curious if you're just seeing strange broken reflections of the moon, but that wouldn't explain why once you offer it your attention, it disappears.

You keep your eyes down and stare long into the water, and eventually it appears again. Long and stringy, it’s definitely unlike any fish fin you've ever seen. It's incandescent almost, reflecting the silvery light of the moon with an oddly hypnotizing pearlescent glow. You’ll admit, it’s strange, but what alarms you the most are the two crimson eyes staring up at you from beneath the tangle of silvered webbing.

You almost recoil, but you're anchored in place by some hybrid mix of fear and curiosity. The urge to scream becomes paralyzed somewhere deep in your throat when a thin, gangly arm reaches up and grasps at the craggy surface of the rock before your feet. It looks… human... or at least it would, if it wasn't for the slight iridescent sheen of the skin- if you look closely, you can almost make out what appears to be scales and a thin fin that runs the expanse of the forearm. Thick, slimy webbing coats the inside of each finger, becoming more apparent as long claws stretch and crawl toward your retracted legs.

Those maliciously alluring eyes draw closer and closer to the surface and soon enough, you can make out what appears to be a face somewhere just under the waves staring right back up you.

Another hand joins the one currently clinging to the rock and the figure hoists itself up partway from the water, and soon you're face to face with...

Well, you can't really say what.

You were right, it's human. He's human. At least… half human?

Drenched white hair slicks back just below his shoulders and clings to the sides of his face, beadlets of water sliding down from the wintery strands down to what appears to be a pair of gills that encircle the rounds of his neck. There's something akin to black fins parting the slicked hair where his ears should be, but even that's not enough to pull your attention from the perverse scarlet eyes burning into yours from behind the severely salt-chapped flesh of his face.

Unnatural hue aside, they’re utterly petrifying, and while something deep in your body tells you that you should run, you can't bring yourself to move from the spot.

He pulls himself up a bit, lithe torso exposed as he lazily rests his head on his finned forearms by your feet. His body language is completely contradicted by the obvious hate in his expression, which only makes it even more difficult for your brain to try and decide what in the fuck you're supposed to do in this situation.

What the hell is he?

You try to ask, but the shock of seemingly stumbling upon a possibly malevolent supernatural creature in the dead of night has caused a severe regression in your speech capabilities. The only thing your mouth is capable of producing is a series of incoherent babbles and sounds, hands shaking as your resist the urge to touch him to see if he's real or if you've been slipped some form of extremely powerful hallucinogen.

He studies you briefly through pale lashes and you could swear you see him roll his eyes before a prolonged blink.

I'm sorry, is this not the expected result? He's looking at you like you're the weird one in this scenario?

Regardless, he lets you stare at him and allows your feeble human brain to come to terms with what you're seeing. Amazing, how quickly your kind forgets you don't exist alone. He draws the line, however, when you finally find the ability to go to poke his fins. He swats you away with an unnaturally quick movement from his slippery, wet hand and you stare at the water spots he leaves behind like it's the strangest shit you've ever seen.

"Are you often so rude as to touch strangers, human?"

You skitter back on your ass, eyes wide and disbelieving even as the truth stares you back with a mocking expression. His voice is raspy and graveled, cracking from what you assume is disuse. It takes you a moment to process his words, despite being absolutely certain that you’ve heard them.

"Holy fuck, you're real!"

"Just grasping that, are we?"

"What the fuck are you?"

His face contorts and his lips lift in a snarl, revealing the extremely sharp looking fangs on either side of his mouth. Okay, so that might've been extremely rude. He's obviously sentient, so maybe saying something so brash and offensive wasn't really the way to go.

"Sorry, I mean -fuck - I've just never, uh-" You clear your throat awkwardly, still trying to decide whether or not to bolt. He watches you through tautly narrowed lids, and you get the feeling you should tread very carefully. Whatever emotion it is you see in his face, it certainly isn't patience.

"Are you a..." What would you call him? A mermaid? A fish-man? A sea spirit? It doesn't quite matter, since he doesn't give you time to finish your line of thought.

"Your people have no word for what I am." He speaks the words almost bitterly. "But just because your kind doesn’t acknowledge me doesn't mean I don't exist."

You're not entirely sure if you should apologize on behalf of the human race or admit yourself into a psych ward.

"What, uh, what should I call you... Um, sir?" Smooth. But you're not really sure what to say here. What exactly are proper honorifics when it comes to situations like this?

"My name," He sighs again, as if it's some great chore to introduce himself. "Is Shigaraki."

"Okay, Shigaraki," You say his name, trying to get the hang of it as it rolls off your tongue. "It's nice to meet you- I think?"

He pays your attempt at polite conversation no mind at all.

"What are you doing here, human?"

Okay, he's curt and to the point. Good to know. He seems to have very little consideration for your bewilderment, despite being the one that demanded your attention in the first place, which isn’t necessarily a good thing when you don’t really know how to answer his question between the confusion and the sheer oddity. To be frank, you can’t muster much of a response.

"Just... sitting here?"

"No, I mean what are you doing? Every single night, you come here, you look at the sea for hours. Why?"

His pointed tone demands an answer, seeming irate or even provoked by your harmless nightly activity.

"I don't know." For some reason, the question frustrates you as well, mainly because you really don't know. The ocean soothes you, even if you're just spectating it. It's too busy during the day, packed with tourists and teenagers yelling and bounding around in the sand, and while you're happy they're having a good time and all, the voices are impossible to drown out. Even the sea seems to protest their presence, the tide becoming higher and higher and more rambunctious until it almost forces the invaders out. More than once, folks have almost drowned for being too stubborn and refusing to cut their beach day short despite the obvious danger.

It seems to calm itself at night, waves gently washing ashore instead of slapping angrily at the feet of anyone treading the sand as if it's trying to coax them deeper only to pull them under.

"You don't know?" It seems more like a statement than a question, and it's an unimpressed statement at that.

"Yeah. I don't really know. I just like being here, I suppose." You shrug, letting your arms fall limp at your sides. It could be the shock, but somehow, you’re actually managing to carry on the conversation with him. "Is there something wrong with that?"

Something flashes in his eyes, and it sends a shiver down your spine. Once again his body language drastically contradicts the vibe you're getting from him. He leans back casually in the water, and just beneath the edge, you see something slick and shiny flutter where you're certain his legs should be. "I guess not. But if you like it here so much, why don't you ever come in?"

"I-I don't know... The water is dangerous at night..."

“Is ‘I don’t know’ all you know how to say?” He gives you a derisive smile, mocking your tone while swimming graceful circles back and forth in front of the rock with an inhuman grace that sets you on edge. "Don't tell me you're scared, little human."

"I'm not scared, I'm just not stupid."

He runs his tongue over his fangs and something akin to a smile crosses his features. "Sure you're not. A little girl like you could never be afraid of a little water."

He's taunting you and you know it, but the way his eyes stay locked with yours as he swims around and around and around is making you feel a little dizzy...

"I'm not afraid-"

"Come in then."

He dips into the water and disappears, and despite knowing better, you find yourself leaning over the rock to see where he's gone. He's waiting for you just under the waves. You can see the fluid flap of an ebony tail glimmering in the moonlight, silver hair haloed around his head. One clawed finger beckons you toward him, and you can feel yourself leaning further and further.

You're willing yourself to draw back, but the closest you can come is ceasing your forward movements. Even as you try, you can't pull your eyes away from his, staring unblinkingly up at you and glowing that foreboding sanguine shade that cuts even through the darkness of the waves.

'Come in, little girl. Show me you're not scared.’

His webbed hand threads up through the rippling surface, ready and waiting for yours.

You can't help it.

You reach.

You feel the slippery surface of his scaley skin interlocking with yours before something in his expression morphs into something wholly ominous and knocks you from your stupor. His magnetic eyes darken, sinister snarl hinting through the smile he’s straining to keep. This isn’t a serene sea creature playfully helping you face your fears; the ill intent is written on his face too prevalently as his mesmeric movements lure you toward the water.

This is a predator, one determined to sink his teeth deep into your neck and steal the life from your still beating heart. You can feel it as his grip begins to tighten on your own palm.

Whatever spell he might have been casting has been broken if only just enough for you to shake yourself free. He's almost fully closed his fingers around yours before you jerk sharply, yanking your hand away. In anticipation of your movements, he thrusts up and out of the water, sharp claws digging hold into the skin of your forearm. You cry out from surprise more so than the pain even though the tips of his pointed talons slice open your skin with little to no resistance.

Fangs bared and enraged, he’s clearly livid now. All facade of relaxation falls away as his tail flaps furiously trying to pull you into the water with him. He's strong, but your will to live is stronger. The layered skin of your knees breaks as it scrapes against the jagged rock, body thrashing and desperately try to release yourself from his unyielding grip

"Let go of me!"

"Get in, you little brat!"

"No!"

Falling backwards and trying to use your weight as leverage, you do your best to kick the creature off. You land a few good hits on his lean chest, but it's not enough to fully dislodge his grip. It takes a well-placed, hard slap to the side of one of his headfins to finally stun him. It was a last-ditch effort, but oddly enough, it works.

He instinctively releases you in favor of cradling his tender, damaged fin. It isn’t long before he realizes his error and comes to his senses, but it gives you just enough time to pull away. He snaps forward several more times in pure, seething rage, fingers clamping around nothing but air in his failed attempt to seize you once more.

Sputtering and hissing, he even crawls partway onto the rock as you're furiously backpedaling away from the water to save yourself, giving you good look at where his hips meet the sleek scales of his pitch-black tail. It’s fascinating, beautiful even, but your body knows better than to slow to give yourself a better look. The split-second flash in your memory will have to suffice, coupled with the sheer and utter terror that will no doubt be permanently ingrained in your memory from this encounter.

His inflamed face and vividly gleaming red eyes that watch you with palpable hate written in his expression are the last thing you see before pushing yourself up on your haunches and sprinting away from the sea as quickly as your little human legs can carry you.

He watches you run, slamming a fist down on the rock in frustration and spitting out curses. He almost had you. He was so fucking close!

Once he manages to calm himself, he allows himself to coax the sore fin on the side of his head. Its thrumming in pain, overly sensitive to the touch. It was like you had known just where to hit him to make it hurt. Yet, as angry as he is, he can't deny that you're interesting.

"You can't escape me, girl. You'll be back."

The sea calls to you, and you can’t resist that call forever. You can’t resist him forever.

#Shigaraki x reader #Tomura Shigaraki #Shigaraki #Hey Ho What the fuck is wrong with me #Siren Boy just wantsta love you I swear #It aint my best but I really love the sea right now

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walkerwords · 4 years

Text

“The Savior Sessions” Part 3 of 33 - Negan x GN!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: Gene Page/AMC

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: Part three of the savior sessions. Both the reader and Negan open up about their fears on a rainy day.

Word Count: 3130

Warning: Mention of The Governor being a rapist (briefly)

Song I Wrote To: “Rain” by Ben Platt

Note: I am trying to make these as gender-neutral as possible. If you have seen me use specific pronouns or anything that counters that, let me know! Thanks! I am working on my Daryl story, but I wanted to throw this out there as I do.

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It was raining when you woke up.

Droplets raced down your windows and thunder rolled in the distance. You knew it would be a day that was spent mostly inside. However, you also knew you had to pay Negan a visit.

It was odd. He had surprised you. You could still see the layers of the man he was years before, but there was something...new that wasn’t there when he stepped out of that RV and introduced himself to your people.

Since you were young, you always believed in second chances. You never really thought anyone was truly evil until the world ended. Then, you had met people like the Governor and Gareth, two men who killed who for fun, who took pleasure in the torture and destruction of others.

While Negan had done evil things, you didn’t think he was evil. If horrific acts categorize someone as unsavable, then those closest to you, and even yourself, would be considered just as bad. Nobody was innocent in the new world, but perhaps some of them could still find redemption.

Rolling onto your back, you stared up at the ceiling as the rain pelted the roof. The drumming of it drowned out the world for just a moment and you allowed yourself just a few more seconds of peace before throwing the blanket off and getting up for the day.

You quickly dressed and then made way your way to the window. Few people milled around in the soaked streets. A few kids splashed in puddles as their parents smiled from the cover of their porches. You watched as Gracie ran around as Aaron tried to catch her, both of them laughing the whole time.

Your house was one of the only ones that were left unscathed from the Savior’s attack. You lived next to Rosita who would sometimes use your spare bedroom when she needed a break from her boys. However, you tended to be alone for the most part unless one of the parents asked you to watch the kids. Being a teacher before the turn, you were really the only one who was able to get the little ones to calm down and listen.

Many people figured you would be the one to take over as the full-time teacher in Alexandria, but you couldn’t do it. You loved teaching back then, but now after everything, you were so different. And while you still cared about the kids, you were now more comfortable with a gun on your hip, watching the walls, or now, chatting with a killer.

You grabbed your coat and then headed out of your house, walking towards the infirmary. Siddiq had been experimenting with a new tea that would help improve the immune systems of the Alexandria residents as the weather turned for the worse. Laura had been his last guinea pig for a taste test and the blonde had nearly choked it down while she tried to put on a brave face. However, the doctor had seen right through her and tried again.

You were more than willing to help him out this morning as he had stitched you up enough over the past few years. The rain soaked your hair as you walked down the road, trying to keep your jacket tucked around your neck to keep the bandage that was placed there somewhat dry. Siddiq had patched you up the day before, but you had no desire to get an infection from a ruined bandage.

As you approached the infirmary, Siddiq was already waiting for you on the porch. “I saw you coming,” he said with a warm smile.

“I would have been here sooner, but I slept in,” you said with an apologetic shrug.

“It’s the weather,” Siddiq said as he picked up two mugs from the table by the door. When he handed both of them to you, you rose a brow in question. “It gets cold in that cell,” he said with a shrug of his own. You smiled slightly, oddly touched that Siddiq had thought of Negan. Then again, he was the one who had looked after the man after Rick had opened his throat.

You took a hesitant sip of the sweet-smelling tea and then relaxed as it actually tasted pretty good. “I think you managed to get this one right, Doctor,” you said raising your cup to him.

“Mind telling other people that?” he asked.

“I’ll spread the word, Siddiq,” you said, walking back down his steps.

“Have fun,” he teased.

“If both of my hands weren’t occupied, I would be sending you a very rude gesture right now,” you called over your shoulder as you continued toward the main road that led to Negan’s cell.

The guard waved to you as he left his post. You figured he hadn’t been there long. You were also trying to convince Michonne to drop the guard altogether. Negan knew he would most likely be executed if he broke out and from your conversations with him, you didn’t think he would try anyway.

Balancing the mugs in one hand, you entered the stone building, shoving the door close with your foot. “Someone has their hands full this mornin’,” Negan said as he stood by the bars.

“Courtesy of the good doctor,” you said, approaching him and handing him a steaming mug. “Trust me, I already checked for poison.” You hadn’t but it amused him. Negan took the mug through the bars and enclosed his hands around it.

Not bothering with the chair this time, you sat on the ground by the bars, pulling your knees up. Negan joined you, leaning against the cold wall. “How was your morning?” he asked, pleasantly. You chuckled under your breath. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said shaking your head. “It’s been...wet.” Negan looked at you and you rolled your eyes. “Don’t be gross,” you warned and he raised a hand in surrender.

“I didn’t say anything,” he said.

“No, but you were thinking it,” you said with narrowed eyes.

“Ah, see, would you look at that! We’re so close we can already read each other’s minds.”

“Oh, great,” you said, turning up your nose. Negan mirrored your earlier expression and rolled his own eyes.

“So, you don’t like the rain, then?” he asked.

“I don’t care for the thunderstorms, but I like a little rain. It makes the Walkers slower and freshens up the rotten air,” you explained, sipping on your tea.

“Yeah,” Negan agreed, “I’m not too big on the thunderstorms either. Way back when the world was still somewhat functioning, we had a massive storm that cut the power right in the middle of the school day. Kids are rambunctious enough and then you give the little assholes a power outage and well…”

“Shit hits the fan,” you concluded.

“You sound like you have personal experience,” Negan noticed.

“I used to teach middle and high school English,” you revealed and Negan looked at you in surprise.

“Did you like it?”

“It was better than this,” you said with a snort.

“Fair enough,” Negan said. You let your head fall back and that’s when he noticed the bandage on your neck. “What happened there?” Your hand came up to touch the dressing.

“Oh, I got cut when I was helping Scott with one of the walls. Walkers snuck up on us and I tripped on a piece of metal, scratch it on my way down. No big deal, I’ve had worse.”

“Haven’t we all,” Negan muttered and you saw a flash of something behind his eyes, but it was gone in a second. “Well, you need to be more careful (Y/N), I can’t have my BFF gettin’ munched on by a corpse.”

“BFF?” you asked with raised brows. Negan just winked back. “Alright, Mister, today, I want to hear a story from you.”

“I thought you said you were going to tell me what your vote would be,” Negan said, turning his head to look at you, waiting. You sighed as you remembered promising him that at the end of your last conversation, but you had been doing most of the talking in these sessions and it was his turn.

“Story first,” you told him. “Then I’ll tell you.” He looked at you annoyed for a moment before shrugging.

“As you wish, your majesty,” he said, but then he began his story. “Alright, how about the first time I ran into a herd?”

“Oh? Do tell,” you said, resting your elbow on your knee and watching him.

“Right, so, it wasn’t long after the Turn. Corpses were everywhere and you couldn’t walk out the door without having to bash in some skulls. I was trying to find someplace to hold up for a few days. I was with two other people, both are dead now, but they were decent people to travel with. My wife had just died and I needed to just leave, you know?” you nodded, understanding. “I made it to Richmond and god the number of Walkers was fucking terrifying. At this point, nobody knew what the fuck was going on. Not like we do now, but it was different back then as you remember.

“We moved into the city and then when I headed into the main district, lookin’ for the old FEMA centers, that’s when we saw it. Must have been over five hundred, maybe more. It was like they were all rotating in one big circle and then the bastards saw us and...well shit, I had never run so damn fast in my life. It was like we were magnets for the things and no matter where we turned, there were more and more…” Negan let out a breath as his memories haunted him.

“What did you do to get away?” you asked.

“Managed to get an old tow truck workin’,” he said. “Plowed that sucker right through them until we could find high ground. Wasn’t pretty, but dealing with Walkers never is.”

“I think we all learned not to go to cities again after the first time,” you said, finishing your tea.

“You did it too?”

“Atlanta,” you said with a nod. “Though, I did it multiple times for supplies so I guess I’m the idiot here.”

“These were the runs you went on with Glenn?” he asked and you were surprised to hear him say Glenn’s name, but you nodded nonetheless.

“Right,” you confirmed. “Though, I wasn’t with him the day he found Rick.”

Negan was quiet then and you knew he was thinking about Glenn. A few days before, Gabriel had come to you and told you that he sometimes overheard Negan saying his victims’ names in his sleep. Negan probably didn’t even know he was doing it, but it only added to your theory that Negan felt guilt for what happened at the line-up and everything afterward.

“The fear I felt when all those Walkers were coming for us…” Negan continued. “It was the most primal thing I had ever felt. You know how they talk about fight or flight?”

“Yeah.”

“I never once thought to fight at that moment. All I wanted to do was run and not look back. It wasn’t until weeks later that I got sick of running and I finally made Lucille.”

“‘Lucille, give me strength’,” you quoted and his head whipped towards you. “I told you, I was good at surveillance. I guess she did more for you than we all first thought. Not just a bat after all.”

“Never was that simple,” he said and you could hear the sadness in his voice as he spoke the words.

You were wondering if you could find her out in that field. It had been years, but if by some miracle it was there, you may be able to get it. Not that you were going to give it to Negan, but maybe someday if he was let out and went looking for her, you could give that piece back to him. The thing that was hated by your people but created the resilient man before you. You figured that was something.

“You asked me before who the first person I killed was,” you began. Negan waited patiently. “I never knew his name or if he had a family, but I remember his face and how I felt at that moment. I was terrified. We were under attack by this man who called himself The Governor. This man ran a community, a town, and he was horrible. He was a rapist, a killer, and an overall tyrant. Not somebody that would have been welcomed here or the Sanctuary.”

“Damn right,” Negan sneered.

“We had liberated the town and Michonne had tried to kill him so he was pissed and eventually rolled up to the gates of the prison we were living in. He blasted our towers to rubble and his men and women began killing us. We were lucky enough to be pretty strong then and we killed most of them. Daryl got his hands on some grenades and took the tank out.”

“Tank?” Negan asked.

“I told you, son of a bitch was crazy. His people attacked and we had to defend ourselves. I was trying to wrangle all the kids with a man by the name of Tyreese. He was Sasha’s brother. He and I were almost out when this man came up and tried to kill Tyreese as he held a very young Judith in his arms.”

Taking a breath, you tried to stay calm as you recounted the events. “He was gonna kill the baby and I had one of Daryl’s knife so I just rammed it into the man’s neck. I didn’t think it would be that hard, you know? Walkers are much easier, so when the blade made contact, it almost didn’t go through. Blood flowed all over me from the artery I had severed and Tyreese ran with Judith. I watched the man die at my feet as I collected myself, but it didn’t last long. A second later and an explosion racked the courtyard and I went down. I didn’t see Tyreese or the baby until we were all reunited.”

“You did it to protect your people, to protect a child,” Negan reminded you.

“I wasn’t upset I killed him, Negan,” you said. “I was upset at how easy it was to do it.”

“I get that,” he said and you could tell he was being honest. That was something you admired about him, he never lied if he could help it. “What happened after that?”

“Michonne killed the Governor and I woke up just as a Walker was about to kill me. Then, Glenn came out of nowhere and killed it and I ended up staying with him and Tara as we went to find the others. On the road is where we met Rosita, Abraham, and Eugene. I didn’t know it then, but I would be killing a lot more in the next few weeks.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not and you wouldn’t be either if you knew who tried to kill us...who tried to fucking slaughter us like cows…” your fists curled in as the visuals of Terminus flashed behind your eyes.

You hadn’t realized you were shaking until you felt a hand on yours as Negan reached through the bars to calm your hands. You realized then that this was the first time he had touched you and you felt oddly comforted. You patted his hand in thanks and he withdrew it, placing it back in his lap. “So, just know you’re not the only one who has felt fear like you did in that city.”

“But you fought,” he said.

“I did, but all I wanted to do was run. It took me a long time to run towards danger than from it. Rick, Daryl, Carol, Abe, they all taught me to fight.”

“They did a good job,” he complimented. “You are one certified badass (Y/L/N).”

“Who told you my last name?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“Judith,” he said with a grin.

“Should have known,” you said with a small smile.

“There it is,” Negan said, pointing at your mouth. “I like seeing you smile.” You went to roll your eyes again, but a loud crash of thunder interrupted you. You jumped.

“Jesus,” you swore under your breath. “That is why I hate storms.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” he joked and you pushed his shoulder through the bars, making him laugh. The two of you sat in silence then, listening to the rain. This was only your third time speaking to him, but you were starting to feel a kind of camaraderie between the two of you. It was strange, but it began to feel natural. You wondered if this is how Judith felt when she spoke to him, this kind of calmness. Then again, Judith could make friends with everyone.

Negan’s eyes fell closed as he breathed in deep. In the low light of the cell, you could see the shiny line of the scar that permanently marked his throat and you finally answered his question.

“I would have voted no,” you whispered. His eyes opened slowly and his head rolled to the right to look at you.

“Why?” he simply asked. You kept eye contact as you spoke, making sure he understood every word.

“None of us are saints, Negan,” you began. “All of us, Hilltop, Alexandria, Kingdom, Oceanside, we’ve all killed without a second thought to protect what’s ours. I’m not saying what you did was right, but sometimes I think back to the line-up or when you set the Walkers loose on Hilltop and I can’t help but think that I would’ve done the same if the situation was reversed. Maybe not with a baseball bat, but we’ve tortured and we’ve executed.”

“So, you’re saying that you wouldn’t have killed me because you’ve done shitty things, too?” he asked.

“There is enough death in the world already,” you said with a shrug.

“Unbeing dead isn't being alive,” Negan quotes and you tilted your head slightly.

“E.E. Cummings was a wise man.”

“Indeed he was,” Negan agreed with a smile. “Thanks for saying that.”

“I told you I didn’t hate you and I meant it. To an outsider, we’re both monsters,” you explained. “I imagine that if I had been with the Saviors, I would have seen this side as the villains. All about perception, my friend.”

“Ah, so you agree,” he said with a grin, “we are friends.”

“Oh, shut up.”

TAGS: @thanossexual @yes-sir-hotchner @boom-bunny @delusionalteenagewhispers @sophia-gwendolyn @ritajammer21

#walkerwords #savior sessions #twd #twd imagines #negan imagine #negan x reader #reader insert #The Walking Dead #the walking dead imagines #the walking dead fanfiction #TWD season 9 #Prison Negan

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calligraphist-artemisia · 3 years

Text

Scattered Blue (Part 1)

Written for the Kidge Spring Event!

Prompt 3: Forget-me-nots | True Love, Memories, Remembrance

Summary: Alternate Universe. From the moment the first blue petal passed her lips, Pidge knew what was happening to her.

Also posted on AO3 under the username Kishirokitsune

❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀

Part One: Pidge

The small blue petal haunted her from the time she woke up to the time she laid her head down to go back to sleep. There was a part of her that desperately wanted to ignore it and what it meant, hoping it would go away if she just wished hard enough for it.

But as with all things in life, wishing did nothing without her also taking action.

Pidge covered her mouth as she coughed hard, feeling something slide up through her throat until it splattered out into her hand. She caught a glimpse of blue as she shoved that hand into her pocket to hide the evidence.

“Is everything okay?” Hunk asked in concern. He and Lance sat across from her at the cafe table they'd snagged for their weekly lunch.

“Everything's great!” she lied with a smile. “How was your flight, Lance? You transported some heavy cargo to the east coast base, right?”

Lance shrugged. “It was just a normal, boring flight. No issues.”

“Which is a good thing,” Hunk said, his tone long-suffering.

Lance agreed with a grumble that spoke strongly of his true feelings. He'd always dreamed of being more than a “simple” cargo pilot, no matter how often Pidge and Hunk tried to remind him that he was the backbone of the Garrison and served a pivotal role in keeping everything running smoothly.

“What about you?” Hunk asked Pidge. “You and Keith have been testing the new jets. That must be fun.”

Pidge's heart fluttered at the mention of Keith's name and she swallowed to try and stop the cough that threatened to overtake her. “Um, y-yeah. Yeah, it's been a ton of fun.”

Hunk and Lance exchanged alarmed looks at her unusually lackluster response and Pidge wanted to swear, but instead, she reached for her water and took several swallows until her throat was clear.

“Keith giving you problems? I could kick his butt for you,” Lance volunteered.

“We're fine, so please don't get yourself suspended trying to fight him,” Pidge said with a roll of her eyes. She set down her drink. “Our test flight went great! We're just waiting for the technical report to come back before we can go up again and there were a few minor tweaks the ground crew wanted to make to improve how responsive the controls are. Shiro's been coaching us through new drills while we wait.”

“Ugh, you're so lucky. You get Shiro as a mentor and you get to test fly the new jets. Can we trade lives for one day?” Lance asked.

“That means you'd have to work with Keith,” Pidge reminded him.

“Good point. I'd much rather trade with Keith and have you as my partner,” Lance said, sitting back in his chair as the waitress arrived with their meals.

Pidge rolled her eyes as he went about his usual routine of flirting with their waitress. She briefly considered apologizing on his behalf but figured it would only encourage him to keep going. At least he wasn't making a complete fool of himself and thus, by extension, of her and Hunk as well.

They didn't do much talking as they enjoyed their food and it was only as they got down to the last few bites and were contemplating dessert that Pidge asked Hunk how he was doing in the engineering department. His eyes lit up as he began describing their experiments with a new lightspeed engine that they hoped would be capable of drastically reducing the amount of time it took to get to the farthest planets in their solar system.

“Pretty soon you and Keith will be preparing to fly one of these! Well, uh, if everything goes the way we hope,” Hunk said, rapidly backpedaling in an attempt to curb his own enthusiasm.

“That sounds incredible, Hunk! You'll have to keep me updated,” Pidge said.

Hunk grinned back at her. “I will.”

In the end, they decided against ordering dessert at the cafe and instead walked a few blocks down to Lance's favorite gelato place where they each got a scoop in a little paper cup so they could walk and eat at the same time.

Every now and then, Pidge had to turn away and cough, though thankfully she didn't end up with any fresh petals. For the rest of the night, she didn't find a single speck of blue when she pulled her hand away and she went to bed with a smile on her face and no worry lingering in her mind.

She danced around her room with a spring in her step when morning came, taking a little extra time on her hair and putting a little bit of color on her eyelids, which she normally saved for special occasions. By some miracle, she didn't drip any of her breakfast onto her uniform and was able to leave the house soon after by catching a ride with her brother, who was also on his way to the Galaxy Garrison.

They split up after he parked in the Garrison's garage, with Matt heading over to the labs where they were analyzing new plugs taken from Saturn's moon, Enceladus, while Pidge went to the gym to meet up with her flight partner and get started on their training for the day.

Keith was already there warming up when she arrived. His black hair was tied back out of his face and he had swapped out of the heavy uniform in favor of a pair of gray shorts and a black tank top.

Pidge caught his attention with a wave before gesturing towards the locker room, silently indicating that she was going to get changed and would be out soon. Once she was dressed in her own gray shorts and Garrison-provided orange shirt she jogged out to Keith, dodging around the others who were taking advantage of the open gym.

“Hey, did you get the itinerary Shiro sent?” Keith asked the moment she was close enough to be heard.

Pidge had to take a moment to think about it. She's woken up to two messages from Shiro that morning – one was a note regarding a slight change in their schedule and the other was a list of what they'd be covering that week. She assumed he was talking about the week-long one. “I glanced it over. It looks like it's mostly what we do every week.”

“Yeah, except for Friday. Do you think I can convince Shiro to give me a pass to skip out on the annual health screening after what they pulled last year?” Keith asked.

“Doubt it, though I bet he'd go with you if you're really worried about it,” Pidge said as dread began to creep in her chest.

At their last screening, the nurse helping Keith found something “odd” in his blood and ordered him into quarantine for two weeks while they tried to puzzle it out. The Garrison medical team ran test after test, asking Keith all kinds of invasive questions, until Shiro, with the help of Commander Iverson, put an end to it all. Keith was let go, but he then had to suffer through several months of resurgent rumors about his parentage and whether or not his abilities were because he wasn't fully human.

Keith was anti-social and a little awkward, which when coupled with his innate sense of how to pilot and the fact that he out-flew even seasoned pilots on the simulator on his first try, led to a number of rumors that one of his parents weren't human or even that Keith himself was born somewhere far beyond their solar system. It was all nonsense, of course.

Pidge had her own reasons for being worried about the screening. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that they would find out about her affliction.

Hanahaki.

Just putting a name to it made it feel all the more real and terrifying.

“Hey,” Keith said, nudging her gently. “It'll be alright. I'm really not worried about anything happening again this year. They wouldn't dare.”

Pidge did her best to smile and try to reassure him that she'd also be there to stop them if they tried anything, but the weight of what was happening to her dragged her down, threatening to drown her if she didn't wrestle back control of her emotions. Her breath stuttered in her chest, a cough building even as she cleared her throat to try and chase it off. Her eyes watered.

“Pidge?” Keith's tone turned concerned and he placed one hand on her back to keep her steady.

She couldn't hold it back any longer.

Once her coughing started, it was nearly impossible to stop as something thick and slightly scratched traveled up through her throat, threatening to block her breathing, until it finally began to slide out. Pidge gagged and coughed even harder, forcing a long stem and the accompanying blooms out of her mouth and into her hands.

All she could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat. Dark spots danced across her vision and she swayed, nominally aware of Keith holding her up. Pidge closed her eyes.

❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀

She woke in the medical wing.

Or at least, she thought that was where she was at first glance, but closer inspection of the wall next to her and the lack of orange décor told her that she was most likely at the Plaht City Memorial Hospital. Pidge stared at the wall for a moment and then slowly, stiffly turned her head to look around the room, which was when she realized Keith was sitting at her bedside and staring at her with a worried expression on his face.

“Wh... what happened?” Pidge groggily asked.

“You passed out,” Keith told her. “Pidge, why didn't you say anything sooner?”

She looked away from him. “Didn't want to. S'fine, Keith. I can handle it.”

“You can handle it? Pidge, this isn't going to go away on its own!” Keith's voice raised to a near shout. He blanched and ran a hand through his hair, clearly struggling to calm down. “You... Will you at least tell me who it is? I could go get them and... and then everything would be fine, right? Unless... you've already told them?”

Pidge swallowed thickly and glanced to the bedside table, hoping to see a glass of water there, but there was nothing. “It doesn't matter.”

“Of course it matters!”

“They don't feel the same way,” Pidge said, refusing to meet his eyes. “I don't need to ask them in order to know that.”

Keith growled in frustration and stood up. “I don't buy that for a second! Who wouldn't like you?”

“Keith...”

“Just tell me who it is and I'll go talk to them,” he said fiercely. “Or I'll bring them here, whichever works best for you. Please, Pidge, I just want to help. You're my best friend.”

Her chest clenched painfully at those words and Pidge wondered for a moment if she were about to be launched into another coughing fit, but after a moment or two, the pain subsided to mere discomfort, which allowed her to speak again.

Not that she really wanted to speak, since that meant revealing the truth: she was in love with him.

That was the cause of the Hanahaki Disease. Flowers would take root in the lungs, growing until there was no place left for them to go. The body naturally tried to rid itself of the invasion by coughing them up but there was only so long that could keep the disease at bay before it became too much for the body to handle. Sometimes, the person afflicted could “cure” themselves by falling out of love before the disease progressed too far. Otherwise, there were three ways it could end: in the death of the infected, by surgical removal, or by having their love reciprocated.

The last of those was the best-case scenario – the one that was often used in the plots of movies or cheesy romance novels. Having one's love returned would effectively shrink the flowers until they were gone completely.

Surgery was a more recent option, though one that some still chose to reject even if it meant their death. Choosing to surgically remove the flowers meant also removing any feelings they had for that person and often resulted in the complete loss of memory of them as well. No one could pinpoint why it was like that and all attempts to improve on the surgery fell flat.

Those were the options sitting before Pidge.

She didn't want to die. That much was for certain. There was still so much she wanted to see and do in the world, and though it broke her heart to think of needing to do it all without Keith, her partner, steadfast by her side, she wasn't going to give it all up. Besides, there was still the chance that she wouldn't forget about him. She was too stubborn for that. And if she could remember, maybe they could rebuild their friendship as well.

But what if she didn't remember?

Pidge slowly met his eyes.

He was her best friend too; the first person her own age that she'd ever truly gotten along with and felt comfortable around. Life without him wouldn't be nearly as vibrant. She couldn't lose him.

“Don't leave me,” she begged, her chest constricting as she forced the words out. She tried to sit up, her arms trembling from the effort, but gave up as Keith moved to help her. She shook her head and blinked back tears as she caught a whiff of his cologne, which usually inspired warm and fuzzy feelings, but instead dredged up an intense need to cough.

She swallowed, trying to force it away. She needed to talk first.

“Of course I'm not going to leave,” Keith tried to reassure her.

Pidge shook her head. “If... If I forget you, please don't leave me.”

Keith made a confused sound. “Why would you forget...?”

She could hear the exact moment he put the pieces together. The way his voice cracked was a dead giveaway just before his expression crumbled in distress. She reached out and grasped his hand. “It's okay, Keith. I know.”

He sucked in a shuddering breath. “It's not okay! Pidge, I-”

“You're not allowed to blame yourself,” she cut in. “This isn't your fault. You can't help who you like. Or who you don't like.”

While it wasn't something they'd exclusively talked about, she'd gotten the gist from past conversations that he wasn't someone interested in any kind of romance. He preferred focusing on his career and studies, which was something they'd always had in common right up until she went and fell for him.

She had to look away from him for a moment. “It's just... you're my best friend too and I don't want to forget that, but if I do then I need you to be there and make sure we stick together. I know that's a lot to ask.”

“No, it isn't,” Keith heatedly denied. “Of course I'll stay with you.”

Though Pidge mostly felt relieved by his agreeing to stay with her, there was still that sliver of worry that things could go wrong for them. But what choice did they really have?

She was saved from needing to talk about it more by the arrival of Shiro and her family, who crowded around her bed to ask if she was alright and if there was anything they could do to help. Matt seemed particularly stricken that he hadn't noticed anything wrong when he spent the most time with her, though her mom was a close second.

Once he was sure Pidge would be okay, her dad took charge of the situation and arranged for her surgery to take place that evening by calling on a few favors and using his influence as a Commander at the Galaxy Garrison. It took a little more convincing on Pidge's part, as well as some hefty backup from Shiro, to make an allowance for Keith to stay with her outside of surgery. It all happened so fast that she didn't have time to think about everything else she wanted to say to Keith, just in case she wouldn't get the chance later.

Her family stayed until the last few minutes until Shiro was able to direct them out into the waiting room so she and Keith could have one last moment alone.

And it was in those last few minutes that genuine fear struck Pidge.

She didn't want to forget him.

She didn't want to lose his friendship.

Heavy tears flooded her eyes, dripping down her cheeks without her fully realizing it. She choked back a sob as she looked at Keith. “I-I-...”

She couldn't get the words out.

Keith didn't need her to say anything. He got up so he could sit on the edge of her bed instead, cradling her against him and offering physical comfort. He refused to budge as the anesthesiologist entered and began prepping her arm for the IV which would administer the anesthetic directly into her bloodstream.

“Count backward from one-hundred, dear.”

Pidge tried, but she was still too choked up to speak and had to settle for mouthing it instead. Rather quickly, Keith's soft reassurances faded and she dropped off to sleep.

❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀

There was an annoying beeping sound that cut through her dreams, dragging Pidge back into the realm of consciousness. It was a strange, rhythmic sound – wholly different from the obnoxious screeching of her alarm clock. She groaned as she opened her eyes and had to squint against the sudden, harsh light that reflected off of crisp white sheets and plain white walls. The only spot of color near her was a single stem of purplish flowers that was placed in a water glass on the bedside table.

“Pidge?” an unfamiliar voice called her name, relief present in their tone.

Her head felt heavy as she turned it to face whoever was speaking to her. She figured it was a nurse or something – she had to be in a hospital of some kind – but instead, she found a young man with dark hair sitting in a chair at her bedside.

“You're awake!” he said, a smile blossoming across his face. “How do you feel?”

“M'okay,” she said thickly. She stared at him for a moment and watched as his smile faded. “Sorry, but who are you?”

He reeled back as though he'd been slapped, his expression dropping into something close to pure anguish. “I...” He paused and took a deep breath. “I'm Keith.”

#voltron #kidge #kidgemas #kidge spring event 2021 #fanfiction #hanahaki disease #there will be a part 2

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sa-gt-tarrius · 3 years

Text

Birdsong

@mutilatedmadonna @secret-shifters

I’m so so sorry for the holdup! I wanted to make sure your gift was at least decent, but I felt awful knowing you went so long without a present. Merry belated Christmas--and I hope this is worth the wait!

Warnings: Minimal mouthplay

***

Unless you frequented the small riverside town of Redwater, you might not recognize the name Scarlett Beowulf.

No one would blame you, of course—Scarlett was hardly remarkable at first glance. She wasn’t rich, nor was she part of any noble family. And yet, in the town of Redwater, Scarlett was something of a local celebrity.

The reason? Scarlett was magic.

Or, at the very least, her voice was magic.

Years ago, a young Scarlett went to play in the woods. When she came back hours later, a flock of robins followed her. They nestled in her hair, perched on her shoulders, and circled over her head.

“The birds told me there are bandits to the east,” she explained to her flabbergasted mother. “There’s five of them. And they have spears.” Surely enough, when the guards went to investigate, they came back with five bandits in tow, newly bound with ropes and chains. They were planning to invade the town that night but were thwarted by a young girl and a flock of robins.

No one knew why or how Scarlett developed her ability to speak to animals. Her parents had no magic of their own, and neither did anyone else in the town. The powers simply appeared with no warning—and Scarlett herself did not indicate how it happened. The local priest suggested that the goddess of music blessed her with a voice that all creatures enjoyed listening to. Most people were satisfied with that answer, including Scarlett.

Neighbours often found Scarlett bantering with stray dogs, or listening intently to the stories of tired old warhorses. At one point, she even recruited the woodland crows to find a missing toddler. Needless to say, she became very popular in a short amount of time—her special ability allowed the townsfolk the opportunity to cooperate with the animals around them.

Years passed, and Scarlett’s life stayed mostly the same. She liked Redwater just fine and felt no need to move away. Besides, she had grown fond of the animals and knew them all by name—it would be heartbreaking to leave them behind. Her love for Redwater’s amazing creatures was too great. She adored them, and they adored her as well.

The irony wasn’t lost on her when she managed to get kidnapped by a dragon.

The existence of dragons was hardly a secret, although many people believed them to be extinct due to how rarely they were spotted. The wise tortoise that lived in the river valley told Scarlett a great many stories of the Age of Dragons. How they levelled cities and smouldered forests, their penchant for riddles and trickery, and their taste for human flesh. The tortoise was glad dragons were disappearing—it was safer that way, he said. Although she disagreed with him at the time, Scarlett was beginning to think the tortoise had good reason to despise dragonkind.

As the dragon soared through the air, blotting out the sun with its massive wings, Scarlett could only scream in terror. She wouldn’t fall to her death, at least—not with the talons viced around her torso and arms—but whether she liked it or not, this dragon wouldn’t be letting her go.

The dragon lowered its head momentarily as it flew, eyeing her with its piercing gaze, before snorting a puff of smoke and looking away once more. Scarlett briefly wondered if the dragon could even understand her. She hoped to eventually reason with it, convince it to let her go and snatch up some other hapless dame.

But even if the dragon could understand her, the constant din of raging wind drowned out her voice. Even her screeching and hollering was silenced by the blasting air. She had no choice but to wait until the dragon stopped flying before trying to communicate.

Eventually, it did stop flying. The dragon and its victim happened upon a mountain range, lined with spruce trees and trickling streams. But with so much forestry blanketing the ground, there didn’t seem to be anywhere for the dragon to land. Scarlett felt its wingspan tilt left, and the dragon began to spiral around the snowy mountain caps. And that’s when she saw it: a small opening near the peak, just large enough for a dragon to fit through.

The dragon grunted, swooped downwards, and landed sideways on the mountain face. The earth trembled beneath its weight, and Scarlett tensed. The giant creature shimmied through the opening, descending further into the hole until both it and its prisoner became cloaked in darkness.

And then… all was still. Her bated breath punctuated the eerie silence.

“...You’ve gone quiet, sssongbird,” a raspy voice purred. “Is sssomething the matter?”

Scarlett swallowed hard. She hadn’t expected the dragon to say anything, let alone try to make conversation. Her head slowly pivoted around as she strained to make out her surroundings, but it was just too dark. “I—I don’t like heights,” she fumbled. “They terrify me.”

“I sssee.” A booming, echoing hum sounded. “Afraid of flying, isss it? What a ssstrange bird you are.”

“I’m not a bird!” Scarlett snapped, forgetting for a moment that she should be too busy cowering in fear to correct the dragon’s mistake.

“Oh? Not a bird, you sssay? That doesssn’t follow.” The claws trapping her in place suddenly retracted, and Scarlett found herself tumbling onto a heap of… something. The objects beneath her chimed lightly as she landed rather roughly on her back. A pile of pebbles, maybe? “You don red feathersss, and you sssing like a red-throated loon. Therefore, you mussst be a bird.”

“It’s cotton, not feathers,” Scarlett huffed, pointedly gesturing to her red dress. “And I wasn’t singing. I was screaming.”

The dragon chuckled deeply. “You do yourself a grave injussstice—your voice isss rather lovely for a mere human.”

Scarlett choked on her breath. “N—now hold on a moment!” she sputtered. “For such a sophisticated fellow, you sure have awful manners! Snatching me from my home, stealing me away, and now you think to woo to me like a common cur?!”

“...You’re right. I’ve been a poor hossst.” A hot wash of breath rustled her hair. The dragon must have been right in front of her, although she couldn’t see it at all. “If it’sss mannersss you want, then let’s ssstart with an introduction.”

A faint light began to glow before Scarlett’s eyes. She squinted, leaning forwards questioningly to see what it was. And as if to answer her, the dragon bellowed a fierce roar—and a swirling inferno burst forth from its throat.

Scarlett instinctively ducked. Her hands shot up to cover her head, and she prayed her hair wouldn’t light up like a wick. Thankfully, the fiery blaze soared overhead and spiralled upwards to the roof of the cave. A crooked chandelier dangling on a chain above was engulfed by the flames, and when the onslaught of fire faded away, the room was bathed in the newfound glow of flickering candlelight. A pool of coins and jewels began to glitter softly beneath her feet, blanketing the entire cave in its golden hue.

She looked up. And then she saw it. A slitted green eye, bigger than her own head, and a maw lined with glistening fangs. The dragon’s head slithered upwards, dwarfing Scarlett with its sheer enormity.

Scarlett bit down a startled cry, flinching back from the sight.

The dragon’s bemused chuckle echoed through the cave. “You can call me Mythnir,” he boomed, grin twisted menacingly, “if it so pleassses you.”

Scarlett’s eyes were instinctively drawn to the dragon’s catlike eyes and razor-sharp teeth, but it was hard not to look at the shimmering copper scales armouring his body—not to mention the pointed spines that lined his backside. His sheer size would be terrifying enough if he wasn’t readily capable of ripping Scarlett to shreds.

“M—Mythnir the Invisible,” Scarlett whispered, slowly recalling the old tortoise's stories. “The Havoc Wreaker… the Discorder… th—the Oath Breaker.”

“Ah. You’ve heard of me.”

Scarlett nodded slowly. The stories didn’t do him justice—Mythnir was incredible in all the wrong ways.

“Y—you…” The girl hesitated. She couldn’t help but gape in awe at the monster standing before her. Even in the dim candlelight, his spines glistened like knives. His wings, spread out on either side, made him appear infinitely larger. “...You’re terrifying.”

A puff of smoke rose from his nostrils. “Normally, I would take that asss a compliment,” Mythnir drawled. “But now I feel insssulted.”

“Insulted?! Y—you kidnapped me!”

“Don't be dramatic.”

“Dramatic? I'm being dramatic?! Just look at you! You’re a terrible, knavish monstrosity who stole me from my home! I have plenty of reasons to be terrified of you!”

The dragon fell silent. His spines bristled. His tail swept inwards, curling in around Scarlett. The coins clattered against each other, scattering across the cave floor. Now Scarlett was truly trapped—if she wasn’t already. “Monssstrosity, you sssay? Well, that sssimply won’t do.”

“Wh—what do you mean?”

“One moment, dear. I mussst focus.”

Scarlett blinked. Mythnir had suddenly closed his eyes, ducking his head towards the floor. And then, to Scarlett’s astonishment, Mythnir began to change before her very eyes. The scales lining his jawline folded inward one by one, sinking into the tender flesh beneath his plates. His newly-revealed skin glowed in the light, indicating a surface-level layer of slime. His snout squished into his face until it was flat, and his wings disappeared into the curves of his backside.

Mythnir reared his morphed head and grinned, revelling in Scarlett’s stunned silence. His fangs were no longer sharp and piercing. They had become short and flat, much like human teeth. The tongue that used to flicker between his lips was now stubby and short. And his talons, the ones Scarlett had been trapped by for the last hour, were no more than nails attached to fingers.

One moment ago, Mythnir was a mighty dragon. And now, somehow… he was human. A gigantic human, clocking in at nearly forty-five feet. Curly, reddish-brown hair dangled across his forehead, and his signature green eyes were now somewhat natural-looking, although they retained the slitted pupils.

That’s when Scarlett’s gears began to turn.

“You’re… a shapeshifter.”

She’d heard about this somewhere. But frustratingly, her brain had trouble recalling when and where she came across this bit of information. Some dragons, usually ancient ones, could change themselves at will: their colour, their body shape, and even their species. However, they had no way to shrink or grow; they could only change their outward appearance. Their shapeshifting was normally only useful for camouflage, either to hide from prey or from armies sent to slay them.

Why else would they call him Mythnir the Invisible? Scarlett suddenly felt very stupid.

The former-dragon pursed his lips. “How obssservant of you.” Mythnir’s voice remained unchanged: still as booming and commanding as before, complete with his ominous hiss. Scarlett found this to be strange, considering his snakelike tongue no longer existed. “Ssso… what do you think? Lessss monssstorousss, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I—I…”

“I’m glad you think ssso. Now then, back to busssinessss.” A shadow began to overtake Scarlett. The girl looked up just in time to see four fingers descending onto her, but before she could think to run, they had pinned her arms to her sides. Scarlett was suddenly whisked off the ground, her legs dangling uselessly beneath her. Mythnir’s human face took up her entire field of view. “Do you know any Shah Luen balladsss? Or any sssort of Kuirid shanty?”

“I—I’m not singing for you,” Scarlett choked, desperate to retain some of her dignity. She kicked her legs pointedly, although she knew it would hardly benefit her.

Mythnir rumbled deeply. His eyes fixated upon Scarlett’s thrashing limbs. “Tell me, sssongbird. Have you ever tasted tawny quail roasssted over a ssspit?” He licked his lips, humming lustfully. “Ssserved with pomegranate, ssseasoned with exotic herbsss…”

“N—no, I—I don’t eat meat.”

“It’sss a wonderful dish. And in truth... I am sssimply famished right about now.”

Scarlett swallowed hard. “I—is that s—so?”

“Riddle me thisss. If my pet bird refussses to sssing…” Mythnir’s maw suddenly gaped, revealing a line of enormous human teeth. His jaw seemed to unhinge in the process, for no human could possibly open their mouth that wide. “...is she not better off as a tasssty meal to sssatiate my hunger?”

“W—w—wait!” Scarlett squeaked, locking up in terror. Her head recoiled, and she refused to look down into the deep abyss of Mythnir’s throat. “Please, d—don’t eat me! I—I don’t want to die!”

“But you should be deliciousss.” Mythnir’s slimy tongue ran along the inner edges of his molars. A huff of hot breath rustled Scarlett’s hair about. “What ussse is a voicelessss bird besssidesss a snack?”

Scarlett screeched even louder when she found herself being lowered into the darkness of Mythnir’s maw. His tongue and incisors were uncomfortably close to touching her. “Okay, okay!” she shrieked, squeezing her eyes shut as her painful doom drew near. “I’ll sing, you stupid knave! I’ll sing, alright?!”

“Wonderful!” The enormous hand brought her even closer to Mythnir’s awaiting mouth. She choked on the putrid smell of his oncoming breath. “Let’sss hear it.”

“B—but…!”

“Better hurry, sssongbird. I’m ssstarving.”

“Okay okay okay!” Scarlett gasped, quickly acking her brain for a decent song. An aria? A hymn? A Gaelic chant, perhaps? Were any of those good enough to please the dragon? “Er… wh—what should I sing?”

“Anything to dissstract me from my hunger.”

“V—very well, then!” Scarlett inhaled shakily, turning away from Mythnir’s mouth so she wouldn’t choke on his awful breath.

And then she began to sing.

“The tune of a polka drifted in And it set my tapping feet alight My mother said to stay in bed But I ought to join the dance tonight

Who’s to listen to her say no When we’re all busy dancing to and fro Who would let this moment go When we’re all busy dancing to and fro?”

Scarlett had focused so much on her song that she didn’t notice Mythnir’s snarky grin faltering. The human-looking dragon no longer had a malicious glint in his eye. He instead seemed curious now, almost childlike in his wonder. His sharp gaze was fixed firmly on Scarlett—still dangling from his fingers—as she continued to sing. Her voice was uneasy, and she could barely stay on pitch, but she continued at a brisk pace, for she was too anxious to go any slower.

“My mother shut herself away In her room to hum a quiet hymn So I went to have a spot of fun Where the music plays and the lights are dim

What’s it matter what mum will say When we’re all busy dancing to and fro? I’ll come back ere the break of day But tonight I’m dancing to and fro!

Upon the hill, the fiddle was wailing We laughed and played the whole night long The rain fell hard and the wind blew cold And we echoed the mandolin’s song

Who should mind a drop of rain When we’re all busy dancing to and fro? Who should miss the fun and games When we’re all busy dancing to and fro?”

Her voice suddenly trailed off. She looked down at Mythnir uneasily. “I—I don’t remember the rest,” she whispered, curling in on herself. Her voice trembled and her nerves were frayed into oblivion. I’m s—s—sorry. Please don’t eat me.”

“Incredible," Mythnir murmured, his voice barely audible.

Scarlett blinked thrice. “...Huh?”

“I knew you had a lovely voice, but thisss...” Mythnir chuckled ominously, cocking his head to get a better look at the girl in his fingers. “I think I’ll keep you, sssongbird. For now, at least.”

“W—wait, no!” Scarlett began thrashing anew, kicking her legs in a frenzy. “No, y—you can’t keep me here! I have to go home!”

“Thisss will be your home now. Fear not… I’ll take good care of you.” Mythnir’s hand carefully drifted downwards. Scarlett found herself being deposited back onto the pile of gold below. She backpedalled fearfully, gazing up at the giant dragon-turned-man. “Ssso,” Mythnir rumbled, folding his hands together and narrowing his eyes menacingly. “How about an encore, sssongbird?”

#ASDFGHJKL IM NO GOOD AT MOUTHPLAY IM SO SORRY #i dont really know what to put in the tags because this isnt a fanfic #i know right?? sal writing an original fic?? i guess pigs start flying tomorrow #gt #g/t #giant tiny #giant/tiny #secret shifters 2020 #again im so sorry for taking so long!! i hated how badly you got shafted #so i wanted to make you soemthing with effort put in and not half-ass it #hope you like dragons because scarlett does not!!!!#if you got this far here’s a fun fact; Scarlett’s song is actually Ievan Polkka lmaoooooo #hatsune miku is a medieval icon #mywriting

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courtorderedcake · 4 years

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Majestically Too Far Beyond, CSSNS 2020

Emma Swan is a Witch who has made (And apparently makes) bad decisions. Helping a desperate Witch out of a weird situation doesn't seem like a bad decision, even against her, runes, a tarot reading and her friend's Snow druid intuition - until it is and the consequences are very real.

Killian is a Demon with a long history of persecution against him, and his denizens are not much better off. His Angelic brother is on a mission to rehab Demonic image to prevent violence on the streets of Hyperion Heights, as some sort of Holy mission deeply rooted in millenia of guilt. Witches and Warlocks use them for parts, Werewolves see them as a threat, Angels mostly still hold on to the ancient feud regardless of their treatise, Fae stay chaotic neutral, Vampires don't care for others affairs - it's a perilous world where hate crimes happen without consequence. After a disastrous meeting, he attempts to drown his frustration with a trip to the bottom of a bottle, but ends up falling in bed with a mysterious Witch in her tower home. Soon he's missing a hand, has only the vaguest idea of what happened from the mess of blood he's woken up to, and a mirror shows that some strange, different, Witch is pregnant with his child.

RATED M for Mature Themes. Written for @cssns 2020 Beta’d by The best team ever ( @jarienn972 @ultraluckycatnd @donteattheappleshook) and Art by @kmomof4

Read on Ao3 HERE. 1 | 2 | 3

Chapter 3 : The Beautiful Synchronicity of the Heavenly Trio

Belle's book store was in a quiet part of the city, just before downtown started. It was all dark colors and paneled wood, her fortune well spent on classical decor and furnishings. Vampire regulars read old favorites or exchanged valuable collections knowing that in Belle's care, nothing would ever harm them.

Belle herself seemed slightly perturbed when Emma, Snow, and David visited. It was raining, adding gloom to the shadowed storefront. Belle, who was usually dressed in the highest of couture with no hair out of place, looked frazzled to say the least. The rich velvet curtains were drawn at the windows, and Emma winced as she stepped onto the alcove just off the stairs. A sudden pain inched up her belly, discomfort making her hiss out a quiet curse. Looking down at her feet, she kicked salt aside, surprised at the cramping pain it had caused. It eased as suddenly as it came, Belle quickly replacing the salt with a disgruntled fierceness.

Belle ushered them indoors hastily, looking over their shoulder as they moved inside. "He didn't follow you, did he?" she hissed. Her fangs were still bright in the dim light.

Emma shook her head, confused. "I don't know what you're talking about; we're just here because I thought you might help me summon -"

Belle growled low in her throat, and Emma took a step back with wide eyes. David stepped in front of her protectively.

"She's looking for a particular Demon. A Killian, I believe the name was," David stated, and Belle's hostility melted away.

"I'm sorry, I just - it's complicated but I don't want to lose this round with him," Belle mumbled with a light laugh that had an edge to it. She began to move, picking up books and putting them in David's arms. "Not that you even know what I'm talking about, or who, so just forget about all that shall we? Yes? Alright -"

"Belle, are you alright -" Snow tried to ask, but Belle whirled to look at her and they all froze.

"I'm fine. Just dandy. I just - I hate losing, especially to that smug asshole," Belle gritted out. "And if it's not him, it's the other smug bastard, which seems to be my type."

"Um," David gulped, holding the stack. "I thought you liked type O."

Belle blinked, before breaking into a sincere grin and laughing. "I'm sorry. I am truly - I can't tell you how apologetic I am. When you live as long as I have, things just get… they get complicated. You make deals with people or play stupid games -"

"And win stupid prizes," Emma finished, looking at her feet.

"Yeah," Belle sighed. "Let's move this to the back; we can work from there."

Belle nodded to a door, David following them carefully with the stack of books, as they entered a study. Belle waved her hand, conjuring a flame in the fireplace.

"I never tire of being a Witch and Vampire. This little group of ours is everything I have ever wanted, or needed," Belle murmured, spreading out the books she took from David's arms. "I really don't want that to change, so if anyone asks you about me…" Belle paused and mumbled something, a bag of powder gently floating to the table. "Don't let them know that you know me. Es[ecially if they seem eager, or are a Demon. I'm not losing this time."

"Ohhhh Kay?" David said weakly, looking confused.

"I wouldn't do that," Emma shrugged, "But for real, are you alright?"

Snow looked in Belle's direction with the same concern Emma felt. Belle stiffened, then let out a long hiss of air.

"Let's just say that everyone has their Demons."

(Emma needed no superpower to hear the truth in her words, or how it applied to all of them)

They prepared in silence for the most part after that, questions here and there about where to place or pour what or the amount. The circle glowed a slight blue when it was completed, the wood gleaming in its light.

"Alright. Get ready," Belle whispered.

Emma, Snow, and David stepped back as Belle stepped forward with her book in hand.

Her voice rang out in foreign tongue, but not at the same time, a curved slur of words that felt like rain pouring on them inside. Emma could feel the ground pulse, feel the pull of something, more than expectation and more than any sort of connection she had felt before. Falling backwards, David caught her and held her up right, just as Belle's words reached crescendo.

The room went pitch black, and Emma felt something staring at her, felt it so acutely she could almost make it out in the dark.

( Tall, with raven hair, and she can see him reach forward as if he's trying to grab her hand, his mouth is saying something but she can only see how long his nails are, the flash of dark horn and blue tinted skin that shimmers - )

As if she had blinked, the lights were back and the circle had faded, its light gone.

Emma looked around, and then to Belle expectantly.

"What -" Emma squawked out, her mouth suddenly very dry.

"Did you give me the right name?" Belle asked, her brows furrowed.

"Yes, I'm sure it was Killian or Florian, or maybe Caspian -"

"So, you don't actually know then," Belle sighed, her look of annoyance half amused. "Because this should have worked. There's no way to just dismiss a summons. I mean, there is, but it's not something pleasant or that is common. So, we can keep trying with Caspian or Florian, but -"

"No. No," Emma rubbed her stomach, looking at just how much she had grown. "If he - if it doesn't want the baby, then this is enough."

Belle nodded. "Alright. If you're sure?"

"I am. I can't - I can't keep doing this."

David pulled her into a hug, Snow and Belle following behind.

Belle let them out, carefully pouring more salt along the entrance of the door as they left. They took a taxi home, Emma dropped off first at her porch as the taxi bumped down the gravel towards the farm.

Once inside, Emma took off her shoes and immediately went to the special door she had placed in the hall on the upper level, closing it firmly behind her. Her door.

(I am enough. I have always had to be enough. This time isn't any different.)

ﾟ・. ｡・. *✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ*⛧*.・｡*ﾟ.★.・.・✫*.・。.・゜

The station provided a safe haven for Emma on days she worked, the work menial and repetitive. Her coworkers were nice, Ruby worked nearby and joined her and Elsa for a weekly lunch, and Emma found enough time to put her feet up if she needed to. The baby made her feel sluggish, exhausted even. Her once daily cup of coffee had switched to a decaf with a splash of regular, and she could feel it.

It was odd to think that Liam worked in the massive complex, but Emma was thankful for small favors as they came. He either wasn't aware of where she worked, or Graham was keeping him on a short leash as to not alert her coworkers. She could see how the news of the new secretary not only being associated with Demons, but pregnant by one, could put a damper on their current kind behavior. Liam could continue flooding her mailbox with demands to register herself and child on some bizarre list, or his belligerence regarding his insistence she give the child up if she didn't terminate - as long as he stayed the fuck away from them in person.

When the crackling page system had come through her intercom, Emma had almost jumped a foot in the air in surprise.

"Miss Swan, to examining room F. Miss Swan, you have pick up in examining room F."

This was rare, but occasionally she had to walk to pick up files somewhere in the building. Usually it was meeting rooms or HR, but Emma knew where the questioning and examining rooms were - all the way toward the back of the building.

The hallway was bright, the lights buzzing loudly overhead. Emma's stomach lurched slightly, the feeling of being watched following her to a bathroom where she lost the contents of her stomach. After touching up, the pit in her stomach remained despite its emptiness. Chalking it down to the unease of being watched by something, Emma hurried to pick up her files. Opening the door labeled 'F' and rushing in to examine the table where the files sat, she jumped at the sound of the door closing behind her.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to do these files another time, Miss Swan." Liam's wings were flexed, blocking the door completely and corralling her toward the table. She stumbled back to sit on the metal chair there, Liam pulling another over to sit across from her, his eyes all cold fire. "I have some questions for you I'd like answered."

"You can't do this to me, I'm working-"

"I can, unless you want this to become an arrest." Liam shrugged, crossing his leg. "Do you like jewelry, Miss Swan? My girlfriend, she loves necklaces, but not bracelets. Do you have the desire to make me wait, so you can show up back here in some, let's say, silver cuffs?"

"I don't know what your problem is with me, Detective, but I am the victim here. I am the one who was pretty much raped, I'm the one dealing with this pregnancy, I'm the one getting yelled at by pre-fall, toga wearing women through someone's dead mom to get a name -"

"Were you successful? If the father is pre-fall, we're dealing with a very powerful Witch and an ancient Celestial. There are numbered few left, especially amongst High Demons - it narrows the list to handfuls. It's all the more proof that you are lying." He stood, turning to examine something on the evidence board.

"No. Yes. I don't know. It was a mess, a woman named Milah answered Cora -"

Liam's head snapped around, his bloodshot eyes bulging as he stalked back toward the table.

"Milah? Did you say Milah?"

"Yes, and Cora gave me random information, worse than usual, but -"

"Sod whoever Cora is - What did Milah say? Tell me!"

"I am, um -" Emma bit her lip, trying to remember. "She said something about a tower and a mirror, but she was more upset about the father. He had been her lover before she died -"

"Bloody hell, what - did she say a name? I need a -"

"Yes. Um, it was unique. I remember that I thought it sounded strong, but beautiful. Florian? No, it started with a hard C, Caspian maybe. Colin?"

"Killian," Liam breathed out, as if all the air had left his body.

Emma snapped her fingers, looking at him with surprise. "That's it, Killian. Do you know him? Is it possible that he could be the father? I really did try summoning him, and there are witnesses that will confirm it failed if you need their testimony… "

Liam didn't answer, his jaw setting as his fists balled. His wings ruffled, spreading wide and his gaze narrowed to stare angrily at her, face transforming into one of pure rage as he threw the table aside, the floor pulling up with it where it had been bolted down. Emma shrieked, shielding herself as Liam moved closer, the heat in the room rising rapidly.

"You are under arrest, Emma Swan. Know this: if you have harmed my brother, nothing in Heaven or Hell will stop me from tearing you limb from bloody limb."

There was a blinding flash and the sound of a thunderclap that felt like it rattled the earth itself. When Emma's eyes adjusted, she found herself in a windowless concrete cell that was all too familiar. Her whimpers echoed on the walls as she curled up on the uncomfortable plastic cot, gently rubbing her bump, glad only that this time she wasn't alone.

ﾟ・. ｡・. *✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ*⛧*.・｡*ﾟ.★.・.・✫*.・。.・゜

Emma woke to a door appearing, muffled yelling on the other side of it causing her to cower in alarm on the thin bunk of her cell. When it flung open to reveal Elsa, Graham, and Liam, Emma breathed out a sob of relief as her friend wrapped her in her arms.

"Shhh, it's okay Emma, it's alright," Elsa whispered, holding tight. She shifted her head slightly, and her voice fell into a low growl. "How dare you. I swear Liam, you are lucky I don't make an inquiry to take your job. I - I can't -"

"Elsa, she knows where Killian is. If she hurt him, if either of you hurt him I'll…" Liam trailed off, and Elsa let out a disgusted scoff.

"Emma would never," Graham interjected, his own voice cold with rage. "You are way out of line here, Jones. I've let you work this even with your personal connection, and that's on me, but for you to imprison an innocent, pregnant Witch without any proof?" He ran his hand through his hair shakily, Elsa nodding along with his points.

"Come on, Emma. It's alright, let's get you home," Elsa murmured, helping her to her feet. Liam made a noise of protest, but Elsa glared at him with such vehemence that it was quickly swallowed. "Graham, take Emma. I'll be along shortly; I just need to tie up some loose ends here."

Graham pulled Emma into his arms, hugging her to him with a firm nod, helping her through the door. They appeared back in her apartment, Emma breaking into tears the moment she felt the cool, non-sterile air hit her face. Her magic roared back to life outside of the cell's confines, the baby immediately pulling it in to itself greedily as Emma fell back onto her couch.

"Shit, Emma, you don't look so good," Graham said, his eyebrows knitting together in concern.

"I think I need to eat something," she rasped, pointing to the cupboard. Graham pulled out a lone box of Pop Tarts, wrinkling his nose.

"You should actually eat something. Not just -" he tried, but she held up a hand without a word as he opened her cupboards. The deep feeling of unease washed over her, the Ghost back again to stare.

"Uggggh," Emma groaned. "Please, get out and go away, I can't deal with you too!" Graham looked at her quizzically, looking around while he brought them over.

Savoring the fruit filling and frosting of the snack, Emma almost missed Elsa's return from the holding cell. Elsa was always just as guarded as Emma was, a fortress with thick walls that were built from sheer disappointment. It surprised her to see her icy friend smudging her eye makeup in quick swipes, before regaining composure.

"Elsa?" Emma whispered, watching her friend jolt and rush to her side. "Are you alright?"

At Elsa's approach, the laser focused ghost burning a hole through her disappeared.

"Oh, yeah. Don't worry about me, are you okay?" Her dark blue eyes were glassy, lips pressed thinly together. "Liam had no right to do that, Emma. I'm so sorry for ever thinking he was a good or just soul. I never meant to put you at risk."

"I'm just happy to be out of there. I think… I think he thinks that I hurt his, um, brother?"

"Yes." Elsa hesitated. "His brother is missing. He's been missing for a few weeks now."

"That's awful. I just don't understand why that involves me, unless….?"

"Liam believes that his brother is in danger, and was taken against his will. With you suddenly pregnant in these bizarre circumstances, he sees you as a common enemy."

"I didn't do anything! The ghost probably has something to do with it or -" Emma protested, before Graham interrupted.

"Ghost?" He asked, confused. "Emma, there's no Ghost here, I would have felt it or seen it. You're definitely not being haunted." He chuckled quietly as if the notion was ridiculous, stopping to cough when the two women glared at him.

"Something wrote on my mirror, and keeps watching me, okay? I can feel it watching, it gives me goosebumps!" Emma hissed.

Elsa's brow knitted in concern. "Emma, you've been under so much stress lately, just - more than anyone deserves. It's alright to not be okay. Everyone knows we Witches got the scraps of the gift barrel with just magic. If Graham didn't see or smell any ecto-"

"I swear, I'm not imagining things!" Emma gritted out, anger rushing back.

"No one said you were, OK?" Elsa soothed. "Just, get some rest…?"

"Fine, just go." Emma mumbled, sitting down into a slump with her head in her hands.

"Emma, please," Elsa sat next to her, trying to settle her shaking hands. "I'm not trying to make this into an argument, I'm simply worried about you, your baby, is… It's different, and we just don't know so much about it. Liam needs to be stuffed but he's scared, and that in turn scares me. He told me about this bonding, and how much it can change a person - "

"My child is not your concern either, Elsa." Emma hissed, glaring at her friend. "How about all of you stop showing so much concern, especially when it's like this. I mean, who needs enemies! Am I right?"

Elsa's face fell, her expression cold. Emma knew that her point had hit home, the woman's eyes going glassy.

"I think I'll just get Miss Frost here home," Graham said after a moment of tense silence. Elsa nodded with a sniff, Graham helping to lead her out of Emma's home. "Call Ruby tomorrow please, she'll probably even come over with bear claws if you do. Not that you need incentive."

Emma smiled thinly, Graham and Elsa stepping outside only to disappear seconds later. If she had the clearance to poof everywhere, would it still seem so obnoxious? Rubbing her stomach, she decided not to dwell on that question or any of her feelings surrounding her friend trying to preach.

(Titania's left tit, drinking sounded nice.)

(But then again, so did a foot rub, Chinese food, onion rings, and not having to drink ginger potion to hold down her lunches)

The knock on her door in the later evening should have been enough to dispel any reason to answer, but Emma was spoiling for a fight, ready for Elsa or Snow; or even Regina, Ariel, and Anna to be behind the wood.

Her breath would not come when Liam's glare was on the other side, waiting for her.

"I need your expertise." Liam said coldly.

"And I need you to leave," Emma spat, her knees shaking. "Immediately."

"The father of your child - I believe he is my brother, and I also believe that you are the only one who can help me find him. I need your help -"

"Do you not have the word leave in your language?" Shouting, Emma felt as if she might snap in two. Her heartbeat physically hurt as it hammered on, as if it was trying to escape her chest. "Get off my porch, and get lost!"

"This is his. It's his spyglass, and I need you to locate him with it."

"Yeah, about that. I don't feel you're really getting what I'm saying , buddy , so let's go over this again," Emma hissed lowly, advancing on the Angel. "One, I tried to locate the father and summon him, but it failed. If by some miracle your brother knocked me up, this shouldn't work if a summoning didn't. Two, I don't want anything to do with you or your brother. So leave."

"The funny thing is, I have a good friend of the family, a Demon friend of Killian's. He goes by the name Scarlett, and he's well embedded into the courts. He owed me a favor that I have cashed in recently."

"That's nice, but has nothing to do with me. So yet again, please leave immediately - "

"The search warrant for your property will be ready tomorrow, and I would absolutely loathe it if a reformed criminal such as you was found with illegal paraphernalia and contraband. It would be so disappointing for the Storybrooke Coven, don't you think?"

Emma sputtered, incredulous. "Are you blackmailing me?"

"I like to think of this as looking out for your best interests."

"I don't even have anything illegal!" Emma squeaked.

"Sure you don't, but I do ." He smirked, crossing his arms across his chest. "An entire evidence warehouse of it, actually."

"You bastard!"

"So, Ms. Swan, a location spell if you will."

Emma took the bronze telescope in her hands, the cool smoothness of it tingling in her palms. She sucked in air as it warmed against her fingers, a strange sense of desperation falling over her. Framing magic and molding it around the cylinder, it glowed a gentle blue before floating slowly towards her window where it bumped against the glass.

Liam nodded. "Alright, let's go."

"Let's go?" Emma asked, incredulous. She scoffed when he nodded again, gesturing towards the door.

"After you."

"You must be out of your mind if you think I am going anywhere with you after you arrest me, wrongfully imprisoned me, and now are blackmailing me -"

"The funny thing about blackmail," Liam interrupted, towering over her, "Is that it still applies to further tasks I ask of you. Are we clear, Ms. Swan?"

Emma glared, brushing past him with her head bowed. Stepping outside into the cool air, she took a steadying breath.

"You can drive." Liam motioned to her yellow bug, sitting in the dirt patch she called a driveway. "Let's go."

She opened the doors, Liam cramming himself and his wings inside the small car with her. Despite everything, Emma snorted, his scowl and discomfort giving her a small bit of vindictive pleasure. The spyglass sent them through the city's glimmering night scene, winding them towards the segregated neighborhoods, then veered to send them out of the heights and along the thickly wooded coastline.

Liam became more tense every minute that ticked by, his jaw set as he ground his teeth. He startled when Emma spoke, sending her veering into the next lane before she corrected on the empty stretch of road.

"Merlin in slippers, what is wrong with you?" Emma panted, gripping the wheel tightly. "I just wanted to tell you that I need to stop and get gas!"

"Fine, then do it, but bloody well don't kill us!" Liam hissed, mumbling under his breath about how he should have flown. They stopped at a gas station where Emma filled the tank, Liam stretching as she used the restroom and bought herself a candy bar. They were back on the road shortly, veering off onto a dark road.

Emma chewed her lip nervously, the bug's headlights doing little to cut through the pitch blackness that the canopy of towering trees created. It wound and curved downward until they were in a valley, a rocky wall on one side that curved to reveal a solitary structure bathed in shadow. Nearby, a waterfall roared. A tall tower made of stone jutted up into the night. In the briefest slip of starlight, Emma could see the red shingles at its spire's top, and the moss that grew on them. A light was lit in the only window far above the ground as they pulled up, and Emma's headlights illuminated the base of the pillar.

Cutting the engine, the spyglass bathed the car in bright blue, desperately bumping against her windshield.

"I'd safely assume that we're here," Emma whispered, casting a sideways glance at where Liam was prying himself out of her car. He looked at her expectantly, and she sighed, yanking off her seat belt in irritation. The night had gotten colder, her breath standing out against the sky in puffs of vapor.

"There's no door," Liam grunted, spreading his wings out. "So, shall we?"

Emma looked at him, realizing what he expected. "No, no, I am nauseous as a default, don't you dare -"

Liam's arm snaked around her waist as she protested, then they were lifting into the air with one powerful flap of his wings. Emma shrieked, tightly shutting her eyes until her feet found purchase on a smooth floor. She stumbled forward clutching her stomach and heaving.

"What is wrong with you?" Emma screeched, Liam ducking into the tower behind her. "How dare you -"

"I would do anything for my brother," Liam hissed. "That's something you will never understand."

A new voice broke into their argument, the shaky exclamation drawing both her attention and Liam's immediately.

"Thank the bloody stars, Liam is it really you?"

A Demon stood before her, pushing out of a strung hammock. Emma felt something shift, the air in her lungs leaving in one great whoosh of exhale.

"Killian," Liam breathed out.

#Courtorderedcake #September #2020 #September 10th 2020 #Captain swan #captain swan au #captain swan fanfiction #captain swan fic #cssns #cs fics with liam #CS FF #CS FF AU #My writing #10th

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mha-adore · 3 years

Note

Hello this is for the matchup ^^

I'm a female and I'm straight I'm currently seventeen and my quirk is poisoning kiss it is a ermitter quirk, it basically is that her tongue has gas in it and has spores if she kisses someone and spreads the gas throughout the body the person can't move and it nullifys their quirk the longer the kids the longer the person can't move it could kill someone but it never happened before the drawbacks are that if she doesn't get the gas out at least once a day her tongue swollens and she can't talk until it's been dealt with, she has to activate the quirk it doesn't go off randomly since she practiced it, my personality is that im pretty shy and don't talk much I'm only loud when I'm around close friend, i hang around mostly at home and don't go out much, i hate bugs, vegetables and thunderstorms the dark too, i really love warmth and dislike also the cold besides warmth i like sleeping long and food mostly chicken, I'm 5'9 and skinny i have brown hair and bluish greenish eye's with black glasses I'm also a leo i hope that was enough information ^^

Hi friend! I really like your quirk, it's very creative. You gave plenty enough info!

I match you with Izuku!

(I know it sounds generic but hear me out.)

So I want to begin with your quirk. The kiss is able to both prevent people from moving and shut down their quirk. If the opponent can't move and their quirk is weak, this gives him ample opportunity to come in and kick their ass. Your quirks are compatible because yours is mainly close up defense and Izuku's is close range offense. Working together you're an unstoppable force.

Izuku is shy himself and understands how you feel. He won't try to push you into being more extroverted, he really doesn't mind that you're quiet. Of course other classmates will step in and urge you to be less shy but, Izuku won't let them do that. Unless you specifically ask for help coming out of your shell, no one will try to pull you out.

The first time you were loud and exciteable he was shocked. Was this the same person? You explained that you're only like this around close friends and him, and he quickly adjusts to this other side of you.

During thunderstorms he'll hold you close into his chest and play some music in your headphones to drown out the thunder and lightning. If you happen to fall asleep he won't move, he'll just get some sleep himself. He refuses to leave you alone around something this terrifying. He always keeps a light on and moves things around to ensure you don't see a piece of furniture and think it's an intruder. As for bugs, he isn't going to squash them, he'll just scoop them into a jar and send them outside, closing the window afterwards. He's seen how flipped out you get around insects and he doesn't want to see it again. While he does mention that vegetables are healthy, he won't force them on you. If you were fine with it he would invest in vitamins that have the same nutrients as vegetables, so you're getting the benefit without suffering through vegetables. He is totally getting chicken for you; he'll blow his allowance and saved money to get you the best chicken regardless of price. If there's something specific you want he's gonna scrounge through every store in the city searching for it. He'd also love to make you some home made chicken dinners sometimes. He isn't a great cook but he does his best.

#mha #bnha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha matchup #bnha matchup #izuku #izuku midoriya #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader

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kvngjoong · 4 years

Text

i’m drowning in you [bang chan]

→ chan x f!you, ceo!au, in which chan can’t find the true defintion of love , not until every other emotion is processed first → 7k+, it’s pretty yandere, not a great relationship (tw), mostly angst

“And he won’t find me?”

“No,” Changbin replies, leaning back against the counter, “not unless he’s got airport security scanning for your face. Who is it you’re running from? I’ll get Jeongin to run a check to see who he’s been in contact with.”

You bite your lip before replying. That was the question you had hoped to avoid. You breathe out slowly, knowing that it’s a question you can’t run from your entire life. “It’s, uh… Christopher Bang?”

“Chris Bang?” Changbin’s surprise is expected. Chan’s name was in lights for anyone to find, and most people knew who he was from the gossip that spread around Seoul. The young kid who made it big on his late father’s investments. “Damn, girl. You’ve got some important friends.”

a/n: relationships like this are not okay under any circumstances. this is not a healthy relationship and I am not in any way supporting relationships like this.

There was a time when things were, well, good.

Good as defined in the most simplest of terms; things were what were desired, by both parties, and things were enjoyed for what they were. Nothing more, nothing less. It could get better, and it probably did, but parlous memories always remain for longer than the ones which are enjoyed.

And the bad, it was far more disproportionate.

It all starts with the simplest of meetings, which was good by anyone’s terms. Not a handshake, but more than an exchange of something most precious to a person beyond their own soul.

“I’m Chris,” he says, extending out his hand for you to shake. Before you have any opportunity to return the formalised gesture, he retracts his hand and uses the other to scratch the back of his neck. “Sorry, uh… Chan. I’m Chris, but call me Chan. It’s nice to meet you.”

You smile, bowing your head slightly in return. “Nice to meet you too, Chan.”

“Are you free tonight?” His question comes a surprise, given you barely extended introduction and lack of a bond between the two of you. Still, you find something in the sweetest held in his gaze which makes you want to spend your time with him.

“Well…” You vaguely remember the plans you already had, knowing you were meant to meet up with your friend, Minho, to discuss his recent plans on an idea for a book he was planning. It’s soon forgotten when you see the hope in Chan’s eyes, begging for you to give him a chance at a future with you that it took him all of 20 seconds to create with you. “I can be, sure.”

It always takes time to truly know someone, and longer to understand them. The eyes can lie, as can their lips, their words and so much more but the soul never can.

“Were you followed?” Hyunjin asks, looking over to you from the driver’s seat. He shows his concern in his words by how he rushes them, knowing that danger was imminent and he was the only thing keeping you from your worst nightmare.

He was admirable. Always had been, always will be. He gave whatever he could to other people in the hopes that it would show how much he cherished them.

You knew he struggled with friends. They saw him as being bothersome, that his personality was too much to handle and that no matter what he did, the friends he had would move on from him since they found someone that had much more to offer. You’d never understood their reasoning; Hyunjin practiced nothing but offering a helping hand to those around him.

He was the first to listen when you said you needed help, and the last still at your side trying to do so.

“No.” You look in the wing mirror of the car for any familiar number plates, though you were far from Seoul at this point and you were sure if you were followed, none would be familiar to you anyway. “I checked, twice. No one followed me. I changed trains twice. I made sure to avoid cameras. No one is following me.”

Hyunjin hums, grip tightening on the steering wheel. His knuckles turn white for a moment, though he loosens as he lets out a breath. “Okay, good. You know he’ll be looking for you already.”

Unfortunately, it was a truth you were hoping not to accept at all.

He’ll be looking for you already.

Truth be told, he was likely looking for you five minutes after you left the house. Someone would have informed him that you left, they would have mentioned to him that they saw you leave the house with a bag bigger than what fit your phone and purse and he would have let himself be unnerved by what could have possibly happened.

You knew him all to well to assume that he was fine with such a simple ordeal. You’d say it’s been an hour now since you first left, and he’s likely got his men in each city looking for you already.

“I’m sorry, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin frowns, looking over to you again. “Why are you sorry?”

“That I brought this on you.” It hurt you to think that you took advantage of his humanity. His shoulder to cry on became one to lean on, and one to take from too. Your heart is heavy as you look up to him, thinking of all that could happen to him as a result of this, should he be found out as being involved. “You didn’t have to help me; I just don’t know what else to do.”

Hyunjin is discouraged by your words. He shakes his head, a typical eye roll following, knowing he could never convince you otherwise.

He knows better than anyone that you don’t see the seriousness of your situation, that you’ve swept it under the carpet this entire time and acted as though nothing is really that wrong. He recalls each time you’ve blown him off because you had something else to do, that a five minute phone call was all he had in the past three years.

He does his best to not worry you, offering the words you needed this entire time. “You don’t need to say sorry for that. If I didn’t want to help, we wouldn’t be friends. I’m just worried for you. I want to make sure you’re okay and that he doesn’t come near you again.”

✣✣✣

Being on the run was never going to be easy. Though, you weren’t entirely sure if you were on the run at all.

It had been two days. Two days of spending your time in your own head as Hyunjin got on with his day. His apartment in the outskirts of Seoul was nice. He didn’t share with anyone, he had a nice view, and he was away from anywhere you could be found.

You couldn’t leave his apartment, confined mostly to his bedroom that had a supply of water and food to last you until he got back from work, as well as his TV and Playstation that he let you use should you be bored.

No phone. No social media. Nothing of a life you once lived.

It was hard to accept that everything you knew was gone. Though part of you understood, the rest of you wished for nothing more than to the life you lived for so long. To have Woojin stand with you in the kitchen, teaching you about things you didn’t know as he cooked, to have Jisung call you to talk about whatever had been going on during the day, to have Felix explain his detest for whatever Chan had him doing as he sat with you on the sofa.

Nothing was the same, and truthfully, you felt lonely without the one who filled the majority of your time in your life.

“Hey, gorgeous.”

You look up from the book you’d been reading, catching eyes with the person you expected to see at this hour His blazer was likely ditched in the car on the way here, though his rolled up sleeves are a look you can’t deny enchantment from. “Chan.”

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot. You think that’s weird?”

Chan’s words carry more sentiment that you hold to them. When he says a lot, he doesn’t mean when he’s bored and there’s nothing else to be done. He means every decision he’s made in the days since he first met you has been solely based on you.

The colour of the designs he’s authorising, the timings of his meetings, even the clothes he wore each day.

He was worried he would bump into you, that you might not like something with his name on it, or that you’d call and you would want to do something with him.

You can see the relief wash over him when you shake your head as you close the book, placing in down on your lap. “No less than you think it is. Why were you thinking about me?”

“No reason.” Chan shrugs as he sits across from you. You admire his features for a moment. He’s a Heathcliff kind of character; a face you don’t forget. “Things that interest me tend to be on my mind a lot.”

You question his words with a frown. “I interest you?”

“No less than I interest you.”

That’s what he’d hope, anyway. He’d envision a universe where he was on your mind just as much as you were on his. That each passing though had a lingering residue of him washed over it.

If not now, then one day.

Chan eyes your book, noticing you’re almost finished with it, then looks back to your eyes. “The coffee you promised me before, you want it now?”

“Okay. I’ve got ten minutes.”

He has what he always wanted.

You can’t take a step without thinking about him. You won’t leave a room without checking to see if someone else is around you first. He’s the one thing on your mind this entire time.

You almost make a dash for the window when you hear the front door open, a bit more forceful than usual, though when you hear Hyunjin’s voice accompanied by another that he sounds responsive with, you tiptoe around to the bedroom door and search for who he trusts enough to see you when you’re on the run.

Hyunjin notices your coy movements and waves for you to come outside. You oblige, heading towards his sitting room and noticing another figure that accompanies the two of you. You’re relieved this time, noticing that the friend Hyunjin’s brought is most definitely not the type that would have a connection to a life you once lived.

“This is my friend Changbin,” Hyunjin tells you, “he makes fake passports and stuff. We’re gonna give you a new name, new identity, new everything.”

The boy, Changbin, nods in agreement, pulling his long sleeves up to reveal both his tattooed arms. “Hell yeah.”

You vaguely remember Hyunjin mentioning his friend that was a tattoo artist who offered to give him a free tattoo. Perhaps this is him. He seems pleasant enough with his replies for the two of them to be close. Changbin has a trustworthy face.

You’d like to blindly trust the pair of them, though trust had been something you often misplaced, even with the right intentions. “And he won’t find me?”

Hyunjin stops the conversation from going any further. He’s probably the reason you’ve still got your sanity. “That she’s running from. Can you sort out the passport and stuff? She needs out as soon as possible. I’ve got somewhere she can stay in Canada for a bit.”

“Yeah, I’ll get it done for tomorrow. Got any preferences on a name?”

You shake your head.

✣✣✣

It had become a habit of yours, checking around for the black Range Rovers that were all too familiar. The private plates, tinted windows; a sign of something you didn’t want.

Though you hated the silence of being alone, you hadn’t spoken to Hyunjin the entire drive. He was nervous for his own reasons, a target being placed on his head for knowing you altogether. He understood the risks, but never as well as you.

Would Chan do something to him if he was ever found out? Truthfully, yes, he would.

Because Chan would do anything to have you - not for you.

Hyunjin glances over to you and takes your attention away from the glove box which you’d been fixated on for a while. You look up to him expectantly, though he looks back to the road before you can catch whatever emotion he’s feeling.

“When you arrive, get Younghyun to text me. I want to know you got there safe. Changbin made sure your phone is being traced in Daegu. Jeongin says that he’s been following it, so hopefully that will get him off your back for a bit.”

“Okay, good.” You’re thankful to boy you never met, and to Changbin and Hyunjin. They’d taken a risk for you and it paid off. Whether Chan believed any of it is another story. He was smarter than any of them, you included. “Thank you, Hyunjin.”

Whenever you think you’re a step ahead of Chan, you’re actually four behind him.

Hyunjin shakes his head, resting his hand over yours which is on your thigh. “Don’t thank me. That’s what friends are for.”

“Then at least let me promise you food at some point in the future,” you tell him. You’re sure it’s an empty promise, knowing that Seoul wasn’t an option for you after this, though you hope at the very least to keep Hyunjin around you. He was a good friend, you valued that.

But again, he shakes his head, not expecting anything back from you. “Send me some postcards. Let me know you’re okay.”

Perhaps that was why you liked him. You had a habit for keeping those around you who wanted to give to you but never have anything in return. Like Chan, for example. He never expected his love to be returned, only to be noticed.

The end of the bed you’re sat on dips, taking your attention away from your laptop. You’d not been doing anything important, and Chan’s smile was enough to take you back to reality. He leans forward, placing his hand on your calf. “I was thinking.”

“You tend to do that a lot, Chan,” you return, shutting your laptop and placing it down beside you.

“It comes with the business,” Chan answers. He moves forward again, so that he’s sitting directly beside your hips. One hand moves to your cheek, tracing your features softly as you do the same with your eyes. “Do you want to come with me to Busan?”

You raise your eyebrow. “Busan?”

Chan pauses for a moment before giving you another answer. He expected a response along those lines, especially given that you weren’t dating, though you didn’t seem particularly warm to the idea. Nonetheless he smiles, nodding with contentment.

“I have to be there for some… shareholder meeting. I don’t particularly care for it, it’s just a formality. I was hoping you could be there so that I could have some company.”

Again, you’re not quick to jump on the opportunity. Chan doesn’t particularly understand why, one day he might see why. It doesn’t dawn on him that it’s the professional reasoning behind things that are preventing you from jumping at the opportunity. “Isn’t it Jisung who comes on these kind of things with you?”

“Can’t you enjoy a free trip with someone when they offer it?” Chan asks, refraining from rolling his eyes. Appear to love everything about you, and everything will be okay. It’s a mantra that he keeps for far too long.

Still, your heart is enticed by the idea of spending time with him. You nod, eliciting a wider smile from Chan, confirming a few moments later. “Alright, I’ll come.”

Perhaps you caused this all yourself.

You always said yes to him; no matter what he asked, no matter how much of a problem it might have been, no matter how many times both your heart and your head said no.

There was something about Chan that made you agree to everything.

Hearing the announcement on the speakers, you pull your sunglasses down onto your eyes, fixing the hat that Hyunjin had given you and making sure the mask covered all your features. Though your heart was beating quicker than you’d like it to, you manage to keep it steady enough to walk through the part of the airport that leads to the check-in desk.

The walk feels longer when you’re worried each man with a suit is after you. Though your head faces the ground, eyes avoiding others, you can’t help but check every so often that there isn’t someone following you.

The queue at the check in desk is short, much to your surprise. A few people are in front of you, each of them looking as though they are leaving the country for business. Though you stand out, your light wash jeans and Hyunjin’s jacket which practically swamps you both contributing to the high school student on the run from her parents look you had going on, everyone is too busy to pay attention to you.

No phone to distract you means you’re even more paranoid. The queue, to your fortune, moves quickly too, and within a few minutes you’re approaching the desk and removing your glasses and mask for the older lady to see your face.

She smiles at you, probably seeing a few thousand people a day and not giving a care for your intentions when travelling. It eases your feelings of paranoia just a touch. “Name?”

“Nam Jisoo.” You pat your pockets, looking for the passport Changbin had given you in the morning. “Sorry, one second.”

The lady smiles again, understanding that you have to look for your things. You find the one hundred dollars that Hyunjin had given you, so that you had money to buy food or whatever until you reached Canada. After a week or so, Changbin would do an anonymous transfer to Younghyun’s account with the money you had in your bank account.

Changbin had bought the ticket for you, too. You didn’t have any involvement in it all. You just knew what to say and when to say it. Changbin said it was better that way.

You eventually find your passport in the inside pocket and hand it over. Changbin had done a good job on it. You couldn’t find a difference between the fake and the real, not that you had your real one around, but compared to Hyunjin’s it looked real enough. You hoped that security wouldn’t be able to play spot the difference either. Hyunjin said that Changbin had a good rep and had gotten other people out of the country before, so you shouldn’t worry.

Not worrying is impossible when you’re staring at the face of someone who can decide your fate.

“Great, thank you.” The lady hands you back the passport with a paper ticket inside of it. You take it from her with a bow of your head as thanks. “Just head through security and your check in gate will be announced not too soon before your flight. Have a safe journey, enjoy your trip!”

You’d always told yourself not to get ahead of the game.

Never think that everything is going to be fine, because that’s when you start to make mistakes. It’s near impossible not to take a sigh of relief when you pass through security with ease, the metal detector not being set off, your bag completely fine, too. Within twenty minutes you’re walking through Duty Free, looking at the different perfumes for sale and make up which you used to buy with friends.

You feel… free.

Free to do whatever you want. You enjoy listening to a few friends bickering over the shades of lipsticks, you reveal in the merriment that comes from a couple who are buying sunglasses at the counter.

You don’t buy anything, though. You move on, only peeking at the packaging of items which catch your eyes. When you reach the departure hall, the only thing you know you want is a bottle of water that you can keep until you get on the plane. You head towards the store you know you can find some in pretty cheap, picking up a bottle and queueing to pay quietly.

It’s nice to speak with someone, without having a pair of eyes watching you over your shoulder. You must have seemed like a kid at Christmas, looking around the store like you’d never seen such a simplicity before.

You had, but you couldn’t remember the last time you were in a place like this on your own, picking up what interested you, even stopping to look at the magazines and picking one of those up too, only so you weren’t staring into space for the forty minutes until your gate was announced.

Once you pay, you return your glasses to your eyes and keep readjust your mask so that it covers your nose, too. You sling your bag over your shoulder and head towards the empty seats you can see next to the departure board, thinking it was best to sit near to there and be one of the first people to get to the gate.

You keep your eyes on the floor, as bad of an idea as that may be, hoping to avoid any unwelcome eye contact. It means you have some near misses with others, and eventually, you do clash shoulders with someone you didn’t notice was coming towards you.

Not wanting any animosity, you turn back to apologise to them but avoid looking at them directly. You notice they’re looking back at you and mentally roll your eyes at whoever was stuck up enough to want any apology. “Sorry.”

“You should be more careful with where you’re walking, baby girl.”

Your blood runs cold at the familiar voice. You look back again, this time meeting their eyes. Your heart skips a beat as his dark eyes become ever more infatuated with you, corners of his lips tugging into what he would still consider a smile. “Chan?”

“Did you think you could outsmart me?” His question isn’t one you can answer. You thought you could. You thought you had. Chan reaches for your arm, and like always, you let him take you into his grasp. He takes your sunglasses from your eyes, folding them and putting them in his own pocket. Your mask is pulled down next. Chan stops for a few moments to admire you, keep his veneration towards you apparent, as always. “Cute. Let’s go.”

✣✣✣

Chan’s hand rests over your arm, eyes not leaving you as your stare out onto the tarmac where the aeroplanes wait to leave. Every so often he’ll look off into the distance after you but then return to your eyes and get a tiny bit closer to taking what was left of your sanity.

He moves his arm to drape around your shoulders, shifting ever closer to you. He makes sure your leg is flush against his, using his index finger to pull your chin up and towards him. He’s merely a centimetre from you, enough for you to smell the faint scent of the breath mints he was using to cover up whatever alcohol had nursed him back to you.

You’re static, frozen in place as he leans in to press his lips to yours and show you his warmth, like he always wanted to. Just as his lips touch yours, you stop him, mumbling a final attempt at rejection. “Please, Chan.”

“Please what?” He sits back in his seat, shoulders tense. He rolls his eyes as he looks off into the distance, noticing a pair of eyes on the two of you. You follow his gaze to an older couple who are talking between themselves. Chan leans closer to you, whispering directly in your ear. “We’re going on vacation, like we were planning to. Don’t cause a scene in front of all these people. They know who I am, so they must realise who you are.”

“I have something to ask you.”

Chan distracts you from the paper you were reading, the words being lost as a flurry of questions he could ask you pop into your mind. You’d become accustomed to having the boy around you, his presence in your life almost permanent at this point. You nod, sending him an encouraging smile. “Shoot.”

“Okay,” Chan answers, rubbing his palms against his thighs, “do you want to be my girlfriend?”

You’d never have expected him to ask that, though.

Chan realises it was a surprise you when you meet his question with wide eyes, the paper in your hands placed down on his sofa. He’s expectant of an answer he wants, though he’d take the delay as time to admire you as he always does. He hopes your silence is a result of the surprise, too.

There’s a lingering thought that you might be hurting him by staying quiet for this long. You panic, considering that Chan might think this is a rejection. “Girlfriend?”

“Did you not expect me to ask?” Chan returns, pulling his blazer sleeves up a little. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Not under your circumstances,” you tell him. You recall a conversation you had with his assistant, Jisung, when you realised you were smitten with affection for the boy. Jisung had explained that dating was forbidden when you relied on girls to hope one day you would date them to sell things. “I thought you had to maintain a certain image to the public. Dating is off limits to you.”

Chan rolls his eyes, shrugging off a philosophy that he’d been told to keep by his father. It was never a promise, and for you, he would have broken it anyway. “Whatever Jisung told you, he’s wrong.”

“So you can date?”

“I can date you if I want to,” Chan says, “and I want to. So, is it a yes?”

No was a word you’d give him in an entirely dissimilar universe. There’s nothing you could have asked for that would beat the sight of Chan’s delight in you accepting his love for you. “It’s a yes, Chan.”

You turn back to him, again barely a centimetre from him. Part of you wants to fall into his arms and submit to him like usual. He was warm, he was comforting; he was home to you. The thought of leaving that all behind again becomes too much for you to handle, though the thought of Hyunjin and everyone else being involved in this reminds you to be strong for just a little longer.

You take a deep breath, placing your hand over his and removing if from your cheek. “Why don’t you let me leave?”

“Do you remember what I said to you before?” Chan intertwines his fingers with yours. A few more people are watching now. He’s cautious with his words and keeps them quiet. The pictures being snapped would imply you’re both so in love that no one else could disrupt you. “You’re always on my mind. I do appreciate your attempt to leave me, and I understand how much you went through just to get to the airport, but you underestimate me.”

“Chan…”

He cuts you off with a kiss. Every ounce of affection he’s felt this entire time is still poured into it; you’d have been exultant if you both reflected the same feelings. You try so hard to keep still, to not return to him, but you always give into him. He’s triumphant when your fingers reach the back of his neck, his kiss returned with something as simple as relaxing into what he was doing.

Oh, he is love-struck.

“I love you,” Chan says, soft expression shattering what remained of your heart. “I always have, and I always will. Yet you won’t return that and for what reason? For your friend, Hyunjin? I trusted you when you told me that he was just a friend, and yet he’s the reason you almost left the country.”

You shake your head. “I do love you, Chan. I do.”

“But you would still leave me.”

“Because…” You attempt look down to your lap but Chan drags your attention back to him. It would seem like a gesture of admiration, and it probably was meant to be taken that way in his head, but Chan can’t stand the thought of something else that takes your attention. Even something as non-sensical as an inanimate object. So you’re honest, for the first time in a while, and you wait for the impending woe that follows. “I’m drowning in you, Chan. I need something other than you.”

✣✣✣

Of course he knew someone. Chan knew everyone.

One look at the right person and he’d organised a room for the two of you to talk privately in. From what you heard, he blamed it on your headache from there being so many people around and the lights being too bright. The airport, contracted with his company in whatever way, were the first to comply to his request and gave him a room away from everyone else.

For you to stare at him from the other side of the table.

For you to wish that you’d have just carried on walking instead of apologising.

For you to wish that you’d have never said yes when he so kindly asked for you to go to dinner with him, and coffee, and Busan, and finally to be his girlfriend.

He taps his fingers on the table as he waits for you to speak. He knows it takes time. He watches you closely, ready to pounce should you try to run from him again.

Because this is his mistake – he could have prevented you from leaving if he kept a better eye on you, if he hadn’t have gone to the meeting he had that morning, if he would have just put his life on hold for you.

“There’s something you need to attend with me.”

Chan places his fork down, waiting for you to do the same. When you look up to him and nod, he still waits for you to confirm it verbally. “What is it?”

“Annual dinner with my shareholders.” Chan seems nervous. He doesn’t usually fiddle with his sleeves, but the hem cuff of his sleeve gets tugged on more times than it has done before. Eventually he pops the cufflink, a gift from his grandfather, and places it down on the table, rolling up each sleeve in turn. “We can leave after two hours, check into our hotel room and spend the rest of the night doing whatever we want.”

Whether you understood business or not, you knew that his shareholders weren’t the biggest fan of him. They were there for his father. Jisung had explained that Chan had always tried to win them over when you were waiting for him one evening. “You should probably stay for longer than two hours. They’re the reason you’re making money.”

“Did I mention it’s a top floor suite?” Chan says, trying to win you over.

It may just have worked. You’d not been in one before. “Really?”

“I don’t just have nice houses and expensive cars. It has an amazing view, and I’d like to share that with you.”

Because he’d shared everything else in his life with you already, and he was worried he’d run out of things to keep you interested.

If only he’d realised it was him that kept you the entire time. “Of course I’ll come with you.”

Chan doesn’t see an end to your silence, so he takes things into his own hands. You’re not scared of him, you’re scared of what he could do if he wanted. When he stands from his chair and walks around to you, taking the seat opposite to you and twisting it around so he’s staring right at you, the one thing you’re worried about is what happens next.

“Something other than me?” He says, repeating your words from earlier. They seem to be troubling him. You don’t react, instead looking as far into his eyes as you can. “You don’t understand my love for you?”

Again, you don’t answer. Instead, you sit forward so your knees are between his thighs and reach up to his cheek. Your thumb traces over his skin gently. It’s then you notice how tired he looked, his under eyes featuring a blue tint and lips a paler pink than the usual cerise. “I want us to be happy, Chan.”

“We were happy,” he says, voice sotto voce, “and you left.”

You find that your honesty is working. A hint of sentiment from Chan and you’re a cascade of veracities. “I wasn’t happy.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, reaching for your hand.

You’d heard it enough times to know how something like that would hurt him.

“All I want is for you to be happy,” he says, arms around your waist. Your head is on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat grounding you in a way meditation never could. “I would do anything for you.”

“You suffocate me,” you continue, clasping his hands, “I need friends, I need a life outside you. Please, Chan. You have to understand. You stopped me from leaving the house. You restricted my calls. You made sure the only thing in my life was you.”

“Because I’m all that you need!”

Chan changes so abruptly. You don’t flinch at his outburst, the shrill words offering nothing but a reason to stay.

Because he’s right.

Why would you need anything else, when all that you want is right in front of you?

“You’re scared of love, baby. It’s fine. I understand. I was too, but I learnt to accept it for you. We could be so happy. You just have to love me.”

✣✣✣

The silence between the two of you exists for far longer than you needed. You want Chan to talk, likewise he wants you to say the first word. It works like that. You’re both scared. You’re both in love. You both want nothing more than to be happy with one another.

So you break it, like you always do. You distance yourself from him just a little more, sitting back against the chair and making sure he realises that you have a say in this, too. “You’re not listening to me, Chan.”

“I am,” Chan returns, ready on his words like he was waiting this entire time and you said exactly what he expected. He hums to himself, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He scoffs, mostly to himself, fingers running through his unwashed hair to keep it out of his face. “It’s loud and clear, baby girl.”

He concedes in a fashion you never expected. Though he avoids your eyes, you shift forward, sitting closer to him once again. “Then you know what I’m saying. You understand what I mean?”

Chan hums. He waits for a moment before he looks up to you, unsure of how he approaches such a delicate subject. At least, that’s what you think.

You think you’ve signalled an end to a life that Chan made you live, that he would let you leave and give you some time.

You must have forgotten who Chan was.

He nods once, treating you no differently to a business deal that would be his when he wanted it. “Of course. That’s why I’m going to offer you a choice.”

“Don’t be mad at me, okay?”

Your coffee break is interrupted by Chan, thought that really has become a norm for you now. You look up to him, placing your cup on a coaster, surprised with his choice of words. “Why would I be mad at you?”

“Because I did something you won’t be happy with.” Chan reaches into his pocket, pulling out a set of keys which aren’t accompanied by any keyrings that he was fond of, or car keys for that matter. He passes them to you, smile on his face as he reveals to you what they are. “Here are the keys to our new apartment. Congratulations on moving in with me.”

You raise your brows at his words. “New?”

“You think I wouldn’t get a new one for us? You don’t know me at all.”

“I liked your old place.” You look from the shining set of keys, up to Chan, reaching out for his hands. You take one with your free hand, holding it tighter than you would have before. “We have a lot of memories there.”

Chan shrugs. His carefree attitude meant he had a plan in his mind that you weren’t informed of. Always thinking ahead. Always four steps ahead. “Don’t you want to create new ones?”

“Depends. What kind of memories?”

Chan leans forward, a single chaste kiss to your lips. “Well, there’s a walk-in shower, a comfortable kitchen counter, and some sturdy coffee tables.”

You don’t let him go, reaching for the collar of his shirt to keep his lips on yours. Once satisfied, the taste of him all over you, you let him go. He laughs to himself, pushing your loose hair from your eyes.

Why would it the location of a house matter when he was your home?

“Then who am I to say no, Chan?”

Chan takes your hands in his, never letting your gaze break from his. He pulls you closer, not too close to take away from his evident aggravation, though enough for you to understand the pretences to his actions.

He hums before he speaks, confirming his decision to himself. “You leave here with me, and we make things work. We go home, we sort out our problems. You take your ring back, and we set a date for the wedding.”

You can see the outline of the ring in his top pocket now that you’re looking for it. An expensive way to ensure you were his forever. You would have accepted a promise, but for him it made sense to get you more than just words.

You nod, shy to speak before you hear what else he had in store for you. His touch becomes stronger as you relax, as though he’s afraid you’ll slip away from him when he needed you the most.

“Or, you leave on the plane to Canada.”

“I stay or I leave?” you ask, waiting for him to confirm, “you want me to choose?”

Chan nods, letting go of you. “You always had the choice.”

“Do you remember how we met?” Chan asks, hand holding yours as you walk through the dimly lit garden.

You hum, recalling when you first laid eyes on your boyfriend. You wouldn’t admit that you’d been watching him when he first walked in, his entire presence attracting you. You wouldn’t admit that you met because you’d both been staring at each other for a bit too long and he was brave enough to approach you. “You couldn’t pick a name to give me.”

“For the record, I gave you both of my names because I didn’t want you to use Chris and I didn’t want you to think I lied to you.”

You lean into him just a little, watching as the lights twinkle in his eyes. “That implies you saw something happening between us.”

There’s a touch of hope that still resides within him, though you realise that hope isn’t what motivates him right now. You watch as he crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair. “You were the one who always went in my favour.”

You can see how his eyes change. They get darker. Suddenly, the what happens next is approaching and you realise that there’s one thing Chan always gets.

“What, do you not believe in love at first sight?” Chan asks, stopping as he turns to you.

“Maybe.”

“Just maybe?” Chan seems insulted yet keeps his touches playful. As he reaches for your cheek, you’re reminded of how monotonous things were without him. “I knew when I looked at you that I found the one I’ve been looking for this whole time.”

His words remind you of all the things he says to you when he thinks you’re sleeping. When you’re in his arms, when you’re done with talking and you just want to listen, and he tells you all of his dreams and how they match the path the stars were leaving for him.

You’re reminded that Chan saw you as home, too. “I saw a future with you from the very beginning. A good one, at that.”

“It’s been better than good, Chan.”

“You think?”

You hum, nodding in response. “I know.”

“Just know that, no matter which one you pick…”

Chan drags out his words as he reaches forward for you, standing though never actually approaching you. You never leave home. You never actually find a way to say your goodbyes to a place that means so much to you.

“Then marry me.”

Your expression drops as you look up from his hands that you have splayed on his chest. This time, you’re repeating his words to make sure that he’s not saying something so outrageous that you can’t imagine it to be true. “Marry you?”

“The better than good future, make it a reality and make it fixed.” Chan brings your hand to his lips, kissing the back your hand gently before he drops it back down to your side. “I love you more than anyone else could. When I look at you, I see nothing but perfection and I’m… I’m scared to lose you. So marry me and make me the happiest person to ever have existed.”

He always gets what he wants.

You were no exception to that.

“You’ll be with me in the end.”

“Yes, Chan.”

#chan reactions #chan scenarios #chan smut #chan imagines #stray kids smut #stray kids reaction #stray kids scenario #stray kids imagine #stray kids

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viasatellite · 4 years

Text

title: Lost in a dream summary: "You were young, you had dreams, and I wasn't part of any of it." Maybe love isn't all there is, after all. SasuSaku and LDR. Oneshot. notes: this is my late Valentine's fic (another LDR fic) and i was listening to Lady Antebellum's Big Love in a Small Town the whole time! That really set the mood for this one.

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She doesn't count a lot of things.

She doesn't count how many hours of sleep she loses trying to save lives and forgetting to feed herself, not the number of times she's received emergency calls from the hospital, the times she's had to cancel on her dinner dates with Ino and the girls, and definitely not the attempts her memories have made at cleaving their way through her.

But it's been seven years, and the scent of roses intrudes into her rather perfunctory sense of smell of washed up, sanitized corridors. It's the hospital; it's all a routine until someone falls and hangs in a critical balance between life and death.

But even death becomes familiar after a while.

It's been five years, she counts, since her fantastic romance blew up into shreds and tatters. But they were young – there was, expectedly, a lot of passion and thrill, but no direction.

"We're young and we have our dreams. My dream is not here. Yours is. I have no need of such complication."

Sakura finds herself choking up as she recalls how easy it was for him to take her heart and for her to ransom herself with his promises that eventually amounted to nothing.

"But Sasuke, three years is too long. You can't just throw that away. We can make this work if we do it together. We'll find a way," she coaxed, reaching for his hand.

Her hand never reached his as he turned his back, not mincing his words. Sakura closes his eyes, blocking him from resounding in her head.

The sound of her phone snaps her out of her gloomy daze, and she can't be more thankful.

"Ino . . . Oh, alright. Yes, I understand. I'm fine! No worries, darling. Have fun okay? And tell me about it later? Great then talk to you later."

They were supposed to finally have their long-awaited date especially now that the season calls for it, but Ino actually got herself a "real" Valentine's date, and Sakura isn't about to take that chance away from her.

If she were to be honest, she didn't feel like going out on this day anyway. It's heavily laden with societal expectations and laced with her personal memories from the past, and she doesn't want to relive any of it.

"Haruno-sensei!"

It's one of the nurses, and she's carrying two paper bags as she rushes to meet Sakura.

"I made chocolates for everyone. Here's one for you. Hope you'll like it. Happy Valentine's!"

She's gone before Sakura can even say thank you. She looks at what she's just been given, and the sudden familiarity of it all floods her.

"I know you don't like chocolates, especially MY chocolates, but I made this for you anyway."

He took her offering and looked at her for a while. She blushed under the severity of his gaze.

"You can throw it if you want to but don't do it now, not in front of me, okay!"

He smirked and opened the box before finally taking a piece into his mouth. Sakura had her mouth opened the whole time.

"I never said I didn't like your chocolates. You're five years too late though. I've been expecting this since high school."

Sakura pouted. "What do you mean? If I had so much showed you a tinge of interest, you would've turned me away like you did with all those fans! And . . . and we have been friends since we were babies, I didn't know how to not make it feel . . . incestuous."

Sasuke made a step toward her and she visibly took a step back.

"Sakura, I never saw you as a fan. You're a friend – "

"Exactly my point!"

"And special. You are special."

"Oh."

She smiled at him, her heart all of a pitter and a patter.

"Then I guess I'm lucky?" she chuckled.

He closed the distance and pulled her against him, pressing a kiss on her forehead.

"Maybe you are. Make me some more chocolates?" he teased, waiting for her reaction.

"You meanie. That's not fair. You gotta make me chocolates too!"

She was supposed to throw him a mildly annoyed look but it all melted away when he leaned in and captured her lips. She felt him tightening his hold against her and she couldn't help but wound her hand in his hair, desperately kissing him back.

She was breathless when he finally stopped. "Do you still need me to make you chocolates?"

She laughed and shook her head before reaching for another kiss.

Sakura finally makes it inside her car, wondering who to call, or if she should just head straight home especially since this is a rare opportunity for rest. But her feelings do not go unquiet and she needs some mighty dose of comfort. Maybe she could drop by her favorite bar? Drink herself to oblivion? But what if duty calls, she can't be that irresponsible. She just needs to drown out the offending memories. She should be fine with some company, have some space from herself. She doesn't know where to go, but she starts the car, hoping she'll figure it out sooner than the memories, more of them, catching up to her.

Sakura thought they could just continue forever. She never considered the distinct possibility that things come to an end, even what they had. They would have minor fights about the silliest of things like how Sasuke would sometimes take forever to respond to her texts, how Sakura would sometimes show up late for their study sessions, or how sometimes they were just both too busy to even see or spend time with each other even though they lived in the same city.

Sasuke wasn't usually bothered by it. It was mostly Sakura who couldn't take it sometimes, demanding more time to be together yet at the same time wholeheartedly understanding that on top of attending different universities, both of them had other things they needed to be focusing on aside from their relationship. Sakura was studying to be a doctor, and Sasuke training to be the future CEO of their company, although with his brother being around, that wasn't really a possibility unless his brother stepped down from the position.

But Sasuke had a dream of starting his own company and he had always told Sakura that he couldn't do that in their city as it would require having a large network of connections and a move elsewhere. He was also looking at going to grad school in another country.

Sakura knew all this, but she had been deeply caught up in this swift moving dream of being together with Sasuke that she didn't realize they were rapidly headed for a steep descent.

A few days before what was supposed to be their third anniversary and a celebratory date for their graduation, Sasuke broke the news that he got accepted into a university in Europe and would be away for at least two years.

"I'm so so happy for you, Sasuke-kun! Congratulations!"

Sakura jumped up to hug him. She stayed like that for a while but with no sign of Sasuke returning the gesture.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"Sakura, I don't think we can continue doing this."

"What do you mean, can't continue?"

"You have a life here and will soon become a doctor. But I can't stay here."

Sakura bit her lip, trying to keep her tears at bay, as she realized where this conversation was going. She saw it necessary to reason with Sasuke with logic and she didn't want to show how emotional she was getting.

"Look. I know you can't stay, Sasuke-kun. You've been telling me. So you go study wherever you want to and no matter how long you want to. And I'll just be here waiting."

She tried convincing him with a smile but even she herself was finding it hard to stay optimistic.

"I don't want you to wait. I don't want either of us to wait."

Hinata is calling, and Sakura delightfully welcomes a much-needed distraction from her aggravating memories. Tears are threatening to fall again, but it has been seven long years, and she still feels the pain as if it was just carved yesterday.

She calms herself down before answering the call.

"Hinata?"

"Sakura! So glad you answered the call. Where are you? Do you have a date?"

"Oh, I . . . it was cancelled."

She's been playing this little game of pretend with herself and everyone else. She feels guilty but she's not about to show her friends that after seven years, she's still stuck in the same spot where he left her.

"Great! Are you free right now? Naruto and I didn't want to go out and just decided to cook together. We'd like you to judge who did better. . ."

Sakura can hear Naruto screaming "Me of course!" in the background. She chuckles lightly.

"Oh god, you two are as adorable as ever. Count me in. I'm on my way!"

"See you, Sakura-chan!"

Filled with newfound cheerfulness and excitement, she then wipes her tears away before speeding up and making a sharp turn at the end of the street. Suddenly, it isn't a cheerless road anymore, and the sadness that seemed impenetrable has now been cast away. It might be only temporary, but she needs to breathe and her best friends are just what she needs to accomplish that.

She's holding a box of chocolates as she opens the door stoked to see the two lovebirds and the mess they have made in the kitchen.

But instead she sees him seated at the table, eyes in her direction, as if already expecting her to show up behind the door.

She almost drops the chocolates and accusingly glares at Naruto who has just come out from the kitchen. She doesn't say anything but demands an answer silently.

Naruto tries to say something when Hinata comes and runs to her."

"Oh Sakura, you're finally here! Come, come, and we have a lot of food for you to taste!"

Hinata picks up the box from her hands and practically drags her to the table. Sakura has no choice but to be seated in front of Sasuke who she hasn't seen for ages and she wishes she didn't have to see him again. Having painful memories of him has been more than enough.

"Hello, Sakura."

His voice has become fuller but still icy. She sends a wry smile his way without directly looking his way. Oh, how she wants to continue faking it, pretending she's been okay, but not like this. She isn't prepared for any of this. Pain does find you in unlikely places, and she just wants the dinner to be over soon.

She can tell how hard the couple is trying to make the atmosphere less tense, throwing questions around for anyone to answer. But she doesn't want to engage in any of it. She's just been focused on tasting different dishes, dryly commenting her evaluations every now and then.

"Teme, I didn't expect you'd even be back here. Thought you would stay in Europe forever!" Naruto begins as he starts chomping down on his plates of food.

"I planned to but we're expanding and thought it best to have our first branch here."

"Awesome! Does that mean you'll be staying here for a while?"

"Maybe. But I'll have to go back there as soon as I can."

"Oh, you haven't been actively responding to our chat. So . . . are we missing something here? Do you have a fiancée now that you can't leave?" he teases.

Naruto stops as soon as he says it, and Sakura sees Hinata slapping at his arm. But Naruto coughs and continues.

"Sakura has been dating around, too, right, Saku-chan? Tell us about your recent conquest!"

"Naruto-kun!" Hinata warns, slapping a hand over her partner's mouth.

Sakura lets out a weak laugh.

"No, I have no conquests. I don't have the time and energy needed to be in a relationship. And . . ." she scoffs, "it's pointless anyway."

"But Sasuke, three years is too long.

You can't just throw that away.

We can make this work if we do it together.

We'll find a way."

"No need to. It won't work. It's all pointless anyway."

Sakura abruptly rises from her seat.

"I . . . I need to go. I have to go back to the hospital."

She hastily gives Hinata a hug. "As always, you did better than him," she smiles at Hinata as she glares at Naruto.

She then rushes out of the door, quickly fumbling for her key inside her bag as she takes deep breaths, keeping her emotions in check.

"Sakura."

She feels herself whirled around, and she breaks down at the sight of him.

"Why the hell are you here? Why did you even come back. . ." she looks at him straight, furious tears marring her vision.

"I . . . I don't know. Maybe I wanted to see you and apologize for what I did," he says softly, looking down.

"But what for, Sasuke! You. . . you just threw it all away! Didn't even give it a chance, left without saying goodbye and suddenly after 7 fucking years, you want to say sorry? For what exactly? For hurting me? For not loving me at all?"

Sasuke looks at her firmly. "You know that's not true. It's not true that I didn't love you."

"Everything that you did that day told me what you truly felt, Sasuke, and I don't need your sorry. I don't need any explanation from you. Just let me . . . let me be, I can't – "

"Sakura, I was scared. The distance would've hurt you more, the waiting would've killed you."

Sakura smiles sadly and shakes her head. "You killed me the moment you walked away. I would've done anything to keep us. But I guess you just weren't ready. You were young, you had dreams, and I wasn't part of any of it."

"I'm sorry, Sakura. I'm sorry for hurting you. I wish I could take it all back. In the end, those dreams meant nothing."

She remembers touching his face before smoothing out the creases and stroking away the sadness and exhaustion. She remembers how it was all so simple back then and wishes she could just take everything back, too.

Before she even notices what she's doing, her hand is already a mere inch from his cheek, ready to touch him again, to do all of that for him again. But when she realizes, she smiles tearfully and drops her hand.

"I wish you happiness, Sasuke-kun."

She loved him so much that walking away from him was something she would have never trusted herself to do. But they were young, they had dreams, and somehow, they lost each other.

There's no looking back.

...

Fin.

(might actually continue here)

#Sasusaku #SS fanfiction #SS fic #Sasusaku fanfic #Sasusaku angst #my writing

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jackidy · 4 years

Text

If You Let Me: Chapter 1

Rating: T Pairings: Demyx/Zexion, Demyx/Ienzo (Eventual/Slowburn) Characters: Various, Zexion/Ienzo Centric Setting: BBS to KH3, Canon compliant mostly

Warnings: Canon Character Death (Temporary)

Summary: “It’s almost a shame really, that you probably won’t survive this.” Only he did. Spending the prelude to adulthood as a nobody, a supposed empty husk of a being was never an option any of them considered, least of all a newly named Zexion who would be living every last one of them.

Note: I’ve been wanting to write this since KH3 came out, finally got round to planning everything after a recent stint in hospital haha. I’ve not written Multi Chapter in a while so lets hope I can keep going with it.

Chapter One | Next Chapter

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Year 0

He’s half asleep when the shouting begins, Even shaking him awake with a panicked look on his face and Ienzo doesn’t understand it, not fully, blinking slowly as he attempted to register what was going on. Panic. Shouting. Even holding his arms, a little too tightly with a frantic look in his eyes that does nothing but scare Ienzo. Why was he so scared?

“I need you to hide for me, hide for me and don’t make a sound. Can you do that, Ienzo?” Ienzo doesn’t get chance to respond, Dilan shouting something outside catching Even’s attention, something hissed under his bis breath that’s drowned out by the noise outside before he turns back to Ienzo. His expression softens, hands brushing hair from blue eyes as a kiss is placed against his forehead. “Go on now, go hide.”

The child does as he’s told, ducking under Even’s desk, curling up in the corner. Hands slide over ears as there’s a scream, something thudding against the door. Was Dilan hurt? Shouldn’t they help? He doesn’t understand, why are they hiding when they could help? Even could heal Dilan and then they could find everyone else and leave before whatever attacked Dilan attacked them all too.

He doesn’t want to lose his family. Not again.

The office door doesn’t slam open so much as creak, eerily quiet and somehow more terrifying than if it had slammed, Ienzo clamping his lips together to stop himself from letting out a shuddering breath. Even had told him to be quiet so he would be quiet, he’d looks so serious, so afraid. What was scary enough to make Even scared and Dilan shout?

Where were Aeleus and Braig?

“Where is Ienzo?”

“Not in here, what do you want?”

Static seems to build in his head, setting his brain alight as his heart rate spiked. He knows that voice, the new member of the family who didn’t speak to him much unless he wanted something. The one who told him to ask Ansem for the lab where the bad things always happened.

“Research.”

The pressure on his ears grows as he hears them fight, clamping his eyes closed and counting to ten and then back again in his head, the static almost painful when he feels it. The desk pushes against him as a thud echoes above him, eyes flying open to look above him then to the side as a hand comes into view. Pale, weathered, almost as familiar as his own.

Why wasn’t Even moving?

Hands clamp over his mouth as a whimper leaves his lips, pacing footsteps stopping before coming closer, slowly as if the owner didn’t know he was here and he didn’t, right? He’d behaved, he’d been quiet. Even wasn’t going to be mad with him when he woke up, he stayed quiet like he was supposed to. He’d behaved. He’d been good.

The creak of wood beside him makes him jolt, eyes flicking from the hand to the side of him. The static stops. Everything stops bar the impulse to run, wanting to desperately to move but paralysed as blue meets orange, a tanned face flickering between a lack of surprise to something almost feral and beast like. Lips curve up into a smile, in no way friendly, the need to run growing larger and more desperate as Xehanort leaned forward.

“Found you.”

Ienzo bolts, not making it far before he’s grabbed, a scream ripping from his throat as he’s dragged, over Even’s crumpled form, the grip ever tightening the more he tried to pull away and he knows. He knows he’s not felt fear like this since he lost his parents and now, he was losing them all over again, desperately reaching for Even before being thrown to the floor.

“I really should thank you, if you hadn’t convinced that old fool, we’d never have reached such marvels.”

It was his fault? He’d caused all this? Ienzo looks from Even to Xehanort, another whimper escaping his lips as the tears welled up. It was his fault Even and, most certainly Dilan, were hurt. Were Aeleus and Braig hurt too? What about those two strange boys who kept wandering in and bribing his silence with ice cream? How many people were going to be hurt because he convinced Ansem to build a new lab?

“It’s almost a shame really, that you probably won’t survive this.”

He only sees the glint of light on the keyblade before he succumbs to the darkness.

---

Year 1.

“You need to focus!”

He hates the lessons, Zexion swallowing back a retort as Vexen’s voice cut through his concentration once more, the image of what he was trying to manifest crumbling into nothing, leaving nothing but the dark space of the lab once more. As Even he’d been warmer in voice and spirit, he’d lectured him enough when he’d misbehaved but his voice was never as cold as ice when he did it, never cutting in the way it lacked encouragement.

“I’m trying.” Zexion responded, training the anger out of his voice least he be admonished for expressing emotions as well. We don’t have hearts, we’re not supposed to feel, he’s been told this time and time again yet each one of his mentors has exhibited something close to the human range of emotion. Was it one rule for them and another for him?

Letting out a deep breath he tries again, taking his time as he tries to picture what Vexen wants. A Shadow Heartless. This should be easy, there were thousands of them outside in the city below, Zexion furrowing his brows as he focused on the image, managing to drown out Vexen’s ever helpful criticisms.

It’s then he feels the shift, staring in confusion at the blank space before him before looking up to Vexen who was quiet but not mad. Why wasn’t he mad? He hadn’t don’t as the other had asked, there was no Shadow Heartless, just the blank white floor of an overly white castle.

“Not what I expected but impressive all the same.” Vexen mutters, scribbling something down on the clipboard he held, Ignoring Zexion in favour of recording whatever feat Zexion had apparently performed. Looking down at his hands, Zexion falters, expecting gloves hands but instead finding small black claws.

He hadn’t made the heartless, he’d become it.

---

The library is the safest space to hide, Zexion has found, heavy book in hand and a secluded corner to hide from the other seven but someone will find him eventually, they always do and, as always, he can only hope its Lexaeus as opposed to Xigbar or Axel, the latter of which continues to look at him like everything was his fault.

Maybe it was, Xehanort had stated as much before he became this husk and now, now someone who wasn’t there joins in the conviction.

The guilt gnaws at him, book abandoned on the floor beside him as he tries to remember the smell of the gardens in spring, when Kairi’s grandmother would bring her to visit whilst she talked with master Ansem. The ever-present rain around the Castle the Never Was fades away, replaced by a gentle breeze and a shadow of the feeling of sunlight on his skin.

Was Kairi okay? He can barely remember her voice now but he remembers the red hair, how she’d pull him round the gardens, telling him about the different flowers how one day they’d go on an adventure today. How she’d make sure to keep him safe from monsters. He’s not sure how she could do that now, since he had become the monster.

“Do you think we could still be friends?” He mumbles to his silent illusion, watching her run amongst the flower beds, picking one or two and always bringing them back to him as their guardian and protector until she’d finished collecting one flower seemingly of every colour and every type. “I think she’ll love them; she always does.” He replies to her mouthed question of if he thinks her Grandma will like her make shift bouquet.

He’s not sure how long he lingers in this illusion of his own memories, all most lost in the sea of flowers and warmth when he smells it. The scene shatters into nothing as fire and ash fill his senses, swallowing thickly and curling up as the smell got ever closer. It hadn’t worked before when he was under a desk, why would it work now?

He’ll be shouted at. He doesn’t want to be shouted at. Tears already pricking at his eyes when the smell of a forest fire becomes too much, he has to become smaller, has to disappear. He needs to hide. He needs to hide. HE NEEDS TO HIDE. His body screams at him to move as the footsteps finally round the bookcase, a click of a tongue and the sound of a hand hitting another body.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the li- Oh shit, are you crying?”

Two bodies press against him, fire on one side and something almost beastly on the other, Saix had joined Axel then, Ienzo finding some comfort in the sudden warmth and pressure but it was still not enough to fully dampen the sudden spike of anxiety. The silence isn’t as tense as he first believed, Zexion slowly calming down to the point he could look at the pair who had joined him only to find Saix glaring at Axel who at least looked sheepish.

“I feel-“ A clearing of the throat interrupts, Axel glaring at Saix before sighing. “I have misplaced anger towards you, I’m sorry for snapping at you. You’re a kid, I don’t see how you could be involved.”

He wasn’t expecting an apology, Zexion looking between the pair again, knowing he was missing something important in the discussion but perhaps not something to ask about. The last time he’d tried to help it had inevitably ended with an abyss for a chest and a spreading darkness. Perhaps this time, this time he doesn’t ask, he doesn’t intervene with his help only to ruin the result later on.

It would be better that way.

---

Safety also came with Lexaeus, Zexion decided, sitting on the stool by the counter as the other prepared food, Zexion easily loosing himself in the smell of the raw ingredients, legs swinging idly as he sat simply watching. Lexaeus doesn’t expect too much from him, doesn’t look at him as if it’s his fault, he treats him almost the same as he did when they were both human.

It’s nice, comforting.

“How have lessons been going?” His deep voice is soothing, Zexion hesitating vocally but his face spills all, a look of distaste and annoyance twisting his features, causing a chuckle from the taller man. “That good, hmm?” He’s teasing, Zexion knows this, but still feels somewhat told off, blowing his hair from his eyes and crossing his arms. It’s childish, he knows but, memory serves, he was only nine regardless of his ability to feel emotions or not.

“I’ve discovered more things on my own, he wants me to do things I don’t really want to.” He receives a hum in response, both in agreement and encouragement to go on, as if genuinely interested in what Zexion had to say about his lessons with Vexen. But would he share these thoughts or keep them to himself? Was it worth the risk?

Apparently so, words spilling from Zexion’s mouth before he could really stop himself. “They’re boring, if not that he tells me to concentrate and then speaks halfway through and ruins my concentration.”

“He says that you mimicked a heartless.”

“Yes, once.” It’s all Vexen wanted him to concentrate on now, it seemed, the blonde growing more frustrated with him when he couldn’t, a blessing in and of itself as it usually meant Zexion would be left alone for a little while until Vexen came back and the rigorous routine of failing to become a replica would start all over again. He should probably practise more without his mentor present, Zexion thinks, knowing things came a bit more naturally when he didn’t feel under observation.

The conversation ends there, the comfortable silence settling back over them again. Zexion has always found it a wonder that someone with such large, strong hands could be so gentle with food, wrinkling his nose at the sting of onions in his sinuses but staying silent otherwise. Maybe he should learn, free up time for Lexaeus whilst also add a task to his schedule that extended beyond lessons with Vexen and the frequent trips to the library.

“I can show you what else I’ve learnt.”

Lexaeus stops working then, turning to the child Nobody with an almost confused yet utterly curious look, raising an eyebrow at the young boy who feels almost giddy for once. He hadn’t shown anyone else this, not even Axel and Saix when they would now occasionally join him to, in Axel’s own words, make sure he grew up with a sense of humour.

He gets no prompt to continue but Zexion does anyway, taking a deep breath before twisting the landscape of the kitchen into something more friendly and familiar. The white floor fades away to stone, the walls swallowed by the landscape of Radiant garden, an autumnal breeze in the air as the sun offered little to no warmth from its rays.

The flower beds have mostly withered away, the sea of colour now replaced with muted browns and greens, the brilliant oranges and yellows of fallen leaves offering the only real splashes of colour in the imagined gardens. What smells, what smells, Zexion racking his mind for anything before landing on spices. Cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves and pepper, warm and hearty, comforting and familiar. The kitchen is no longer the kitchen but the gardens of the old castle they called home.

Sounds. It needs sounds. Zexion furrowing his brow as he concentrated, eyes screwing shut as the sound of water trickled in, accompanied by bird song and the sound of the town below. It’s perfect, his breaths coming a little harder from exertion as he looks to Lexaeus for a reaction, hoping for happiness only to receive concern.

“Did I do something wrong?” His voice is quiet, insecure, mind running a mile a minute as he tried to go over what he did to cause such a reaction only to snap out of his thoughts as a hand comes down on his shoulder, gentle yet firm, grounding him as he nearly sent himself spiralling into another downward trajectory of ill thoughts.

Lexaeus offers a smile, small but still there, not as warm as it used to be but Zexion was growing used to the changes in his other apprentices now. “No, it’s beautiful.” There’s something else there, something the giant wants to add on but is seemingly fighting with himself over admitting before sighing, inhaling sharply and seeming to regain his apparently fleeting confidence in his words. “Let’s keep this a secret for now.”

“A secret?”

“Yes, a secret for just us.” He doesn’t fully understand the need for secrecy, biting his lower lip as he thinks for a moment before nodding, wondering if it was a touch more serious than he first thought as Lexaeus relaxes, giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze.

Taking a deep breath, Zexion lets the illusion of Radiant garden fade away, the grey blue sky replaced by stark white, metallic walls as the patchwork of stone dissolves into nothing. There are no more birds, or breeze, the warm smells of autumn fading away into the smells of whatever dish Lexaeus was making this evening.

He could keep a secret. Axel and Saix had a secret, Xemnas also had secrets. What was another secret after all that?

#kingdom hearts #ienzo #zexion #terranort #kh axel #siax #lexaeus #organization 13 #org XIII #multi chap #slow burn #zemyx #fic: if you let me #will i ever post fics not at 2 fucking am? who knows #T

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