#for all of you who do not weep at the sight of my chapter lengths and run screaming | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fandomfluffandfuck · 2 days

Note

congrats on finishing finals mr s!!!! 🥳 hope u have a good break :)

(on a semi-related note, i would like to humbly request evanstan spitkink if u havent done so already, but if u have... 🤲)

Thank you so much!!

I've written a tiny bit of spit kink with stucky in my series "You Can('t) Teach An Old Dog New Tricks," specifically in chapter one of "Shake" so if you haven't read that, I would highly recommend it, lol.

Also, while on the stucky spit kink train, if you haven't read this drabble from K (@howdoyousleep3) that has her pairing of Senator Rogers and Intern Bucky with spit kink, I would highly, highly recommend that, too. Maybe even more than mine because, Jesus Christ, it's K, c'mon, of course it's stupidly hot.

Without further ado, evanstan and spit kink 👀

Sebastian has already cum multiple times, he couldn't say if it was twice or a hundred times because he doesn't have the capacity to recount anything right now--not his own name and hardly anything as complex as numbers that string together to make any form of sense. All that exists is flames and heat and this. This moment where he's being kept in a glass enclosure of pleasure. Untouched but so, so touched. Guh. That doesn't make sense. It doesn't need to. He loves this. He needs this. He aches for this. Kept bound, sweet, and small underneath Chris, who is so indescribably big and heavy and perfect.

Sebastian has made a slick mess all over himself, all over Chris, too, from cumming his brains out until there's nothing left. He's pulsed and rippled and throbbed through the height of pleasure so many times that his cock--which he knows is dizzying, hazily, somewhere down there, along the yielding, melted line of his body, but he can hardly locate at the moment--has gone soft. He's aware of just how soft he is, despite feeling so, so unbelievably hard because Chris keeps fondling him.

Stroking his soft, weeping cock, drawing more, endless liquid from it that might be more cum, it might be pre-cum because time is nothing if not broken at this moment, it might be piss, commanded into emptying himself in every conceivable way possible, it might be all of him--he might be truly liquid.

Cupping his soft cock against his clenching tummy, trapping the tortured shape between his calloused, heavy palm and his body--encased, surrounded, overwhelmed just like Sebastian is.

Petting his soft cock, down the limp length as if it's precious. Treating the vulgar sight of his used, exploited dick as if it's innocent and cute. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Sebastian has never experienced something so filthy.

As insane as Chris is driving him, caressing him with one hand while he's driving in and out of him ruthlessly, fucking him out of his goddamn mind, Sebastian can't do a single thing about it.

Touched.

Fucked.

Groped.

Helpless, Sebastian is spread thin like butter soaking into hot toast with his hands tied to each opposite corner of the headboard. He's anchored there by Chris' silk neckties, a caress of possessive hands in of themselves, scented with Chris' favorite cologne and normally hung around his neck in the presence of wealthy, powerful people when they're not immobilizing his favorite boy. His arms are spread to their limit, muscles straining deliciously, pinned at the wrist. There's no hope of escape. Sebastian wouldn't dream of moving anyway. He's too good. He wants to live here like this, no matter how crazy it makes him feel.

He's crying, sweating, or drooling maybe? What's the difference anyway? Either way, he's wet. And he's moaning high in his throat, gasping, raw, and rattled harshly by how exquisitely he's being pounded. Loving it. He can't get enough of it, even as it boils over and becomes way, way too much. Overstimulation isn't a strong enough word. It's beyond.

Sebastian's legs aren't tied like his arms, but they are quivering and held tightly around Chris' trim waist, curled so tightly that his heels dig into his feverish body. Clinging.

As he's fucked--harshly, obscenely--Sebastian's near-incoherent pleas have degraded from begging, bitten-off sounds that seek permission to cum to high noises that plead for Chris to cum. He wants Chris to cum in him. Chris hasn't orgasmed yet, he's been too busy. Preoccupied with Sebastian, all needy and aching.

Somehow, somewhere, at some fucking point, Chris began this torture by rimming Sebastian open. Chris bodily pressed him into the bed and spread him, pushing him face down, ass up to devour his way through him. Eating him out. Getting him so fucking wet. Teasing his skin with his facial hair until Seb was red and lushly sensitive between his cheeks and Chris' beared jaw was soaked, Sebastian's taste thick on his wicked tongue. He made Sebastian spill over that way, the slick, hot feeling of his lips and tongue and teeth and beard irresistible. Then. Then, as if he wasn't already wiped out, boneless, and sweetly moldable, Chris had to keep going.

He folded him up, pushing him to his knees, keeping his arms underneath his chest, perfect for teasing his own nipples if only he had enough coordination, and fingered him. Chris made him sloppier, looser on his thick fingers. Three of them. God. He spanked his ass, too, using his other hand knowing Seb's always weak for the white-hot pain. It was out of Seb's control to not clench and squirm, tightening him around his fingers, helping Chris press and rub his prostate until he couldn't stop it anymore and he had to overflow. Pouring. Cumming again. And after-!

After, Chris fucked him with his dick for the first time today. Not the last time. No, of course not, why would he ever fuck Sebastian once when he could luxuriate in the pleasure of sticking it in him aaaaall day.

Guh.

Sebastian was so focused on how heavy and full of cock he felt--split open and speared through his belly into his throat, choking on it--that he doesn't even know if he orgasmed again or not. Maybe he did more than once, maybe he didn't at all without Chris' fist around his then hard cock. He doesn't remember. Just his dick, that's all he remembers feeling. It felt so good. Before Chris had the satisfaction of riding his ass to notification, though, he ripped himself away like a lion from a fresh kill. All for the purpose of playing with his food before he feasted. A true feline, then. Full of blood lust but really just pure lust.

Chris made room for himself inside Sebastian's throbbing body, used him for as long as he pleased, fucking him, and then stuffed him with a vibrator. Because...

Why not?

What else is he good for?

Nggghh.

Sebastian came that way, too, teeth chattering against the torrent of pleasure flowing through him electrically. It was raw, clenching, and so incredibly sensitive. He emptied himself.

And so Seb feels hollow of anything more to give. He's given it all. What's left is everything Chris has stuffed inside of him, molten heat. And despite the lust inside him, filling him, he can't get it back up. He's not going to be able to cum again even though, paradoxically, everything makes him feel like he's cumming. He's stuck, pinned down in a reverent, flowing, liquified state like a white-water rapid river. Everything runs and bleeds together here, in this moment, it's like wet paint. The only picture that could possibly be painted this way is one of pure ecstasy.

Towering over him, heavy and scorching, Chris hoarsely groans. He's back inside him after teasing him with that godforsaken vibrator, and it's wearing them both down fervently. "Y-you want me so bad," he taunts him as if he isn't working him over so good he's making him stupid, forgetting his own name with his dick grinding deep enough to make it hard to breathe, choking. "You want anything of me you can get, don't'cha, baby?" It's a question, but Chris already knows the answer and he fucking knows it well. "You'll take anything, isn't that right, honey?"

Seb has been stripped down too far to be anything but embarrassingly honest. Frantically, he whimpers through a fast, uncoordinated nod.

"I'll give you what you need, sweet thing," he promises, voice rough like a barely caged animal. So tantalizingly close to feral.

Sebastian believes him, god, he believes him with everything he has. Of course, he will. He always does.

"Open," Chris demands, cocky because, naturally, Seb does, just like Chris knows he will. He's delightfully sweet and predictable, after all.

Sebastian does it thoughtlessly, groaning with the spear of pleasure that shoves into him just from being good and obedient like he craves. And without his hips missing a beat, Chris resettles his weight, holding himself up with just one strong arm as he delivers on his promise to give him what he needs--sticking two fingers between Sebastian's gaping, swollen lips.

His lips are all puffy and red because he couldn't quit biting his bottom lip earlier, when he had more control over his own body and motor function, before he melted into a puddle and stayed all open and lax.

Fingers between those glistening, red lips, Chris presses down on his tongue to drag his jaw open wider. Just because he can. Then, he spreads his fingers apart as much as he can, feeling the velvet of the insides of Sebastian's cheeks on his index and middle finger, making a V-shape in his mouth. And while he's at it, teasing, already, Seb has started to drool, his salivary glands tingling, his whole face tingling--he knows this is embarrassing, somewhere, in the muffled, turned-down logical part of his mind that takes a backseat whenever Chris starts touching him, turning him on, but Seb doesn't fucking care that it's embarrassing beyond the heat it brings. Feeling hotter. All he cares about is being good and wet and open for Chris.

All his holes good and wet and open.

Invading his mouth, Chris leans in to do the same to his personal space. His frame dangerous and looming, predatory almost, as he puts their faces close together, posturing up as if he's going to knock him out with a lush, filthy kiss--like he's going to fuck his mouth with his tongue and claim him further. But he doesn't. Chris does something better.

Chris gets so fucking close to him, weighing on him, pressing him hard into the bed, and...

Spits in his mouth.

Sebastian's entire world breaks from its axis. The sound that leaves him in response to having Chris' spit in his mouth, wet on his already drooling tongue, is nothing short of pornographic.

And, oh fuck, the sensation of being claimed so tabboo-ly, spit on, defiled and dirtied, in tandem with the grin that splits Chris' handsome face has Sebastian moaning worse. More. The sound that was all rasp and punched-out turns into loud, molten lust. He's moaning as if he's cumming all over again, pleasure erupting. More than he can take. It's fucking awful. That sensation. The fucking look on Chris' fucking face--unhinged, sharp pleasure at being so in control and knowing that it's all Seb wants. It ruins Sebastian for everything else ever. Immediately. He's fucking gone.

Spoiled.

How is he ever supposed to get off any other way for the rest of his life? That fucking grin. Sharp and predatory and knowing. He knows exactly what he does to Sebastian--how he devastates him and tears him down, stripping him to exposed nerves that sing only for Chris.

All Seb can do is swallow. He swallows again, too. He wants it. He wants all of it so badly.

"You'll take even that, won't you?" Chris' hand not holding himself up to keep rolling his hips, keep fucking him, is suddenly at his throat, pressing, blunt fingernails digging in so his pulse throbs through him like a drum beat so harshly by a fist that it nearly bursts.

Ah!

His thick, strong fingers are still wet with Sebastian's and Chris' own spit. Mixed into a terrible, incredible cocktail. Messy and hot and now smeared into his skin like a sizzling brand. He's owned.

Sebastian swallows a kitten-ish mewl, mortifying in its desperation, only to embarrass himself worse when he can't choke back his assent, "mmmh, mmm-hhm!" He moans. He sobs, "th-thank you."

Chris' fingers bite harder into his throat, and Sebastian hears an angel's choir, "ohh, Seb," his rough, low voice purrs, "what a good boy, such good manners after you get what you want. Look at you, aren't you sweet?"

The only thing that Sebastian's body is capable of doing it quivering, sobbing harder. "Pluh-pleeease!" He cries.

Chris knows what he wants, and beyond, Chris knows what he needs.

Seb might think he's begging for Chris to cum--use him, fill him, fuck him--but Chris just spits into his mouth again. This time, some of it gets on his cheeks and chin, too.

Sebastian was already cracked open and exposed, but then, right fucking then, he shatters. His tongue lolls from his mouth, wanting it all, licking his buzzing, swollen lips, and swallowing his spit.

JesusfuckingChrist.

He's such a mess. It's painted all over his face. He's so wet. And he, he, he just vacates his overwhelmed body and floats, so entirely, perfectly used and consumed, he doesn't need to do anything. So he doesn't. Sebastian hovers. Weightless clouds and spun cotton candy, nothing but desired as Chris has his way with him, doing everything, anything to him. Wring orgasms out of his body, bleeding him dry. Fuck him. Fill him with his release. Spit on him--spit in his mouth. Yes. Yes. Yes.

#asks #fandomfluffandfuck #chris evans #sebastian stan #evanstan #rpf #real person fanfiction #sub seb #subastian #sub sebastian #dom chris

6 notes · View notes

from-nobody-to-nightmare · 2 days

Text

Chapter 7: Stress of the Dress

"What's my style is not your style, and I don’t see how you can define it. It’s something that expresses who you are in your own way.” —Iris Apfel

It was a long way back to Rosie’s Emporium, or at least it felt that way. Even though I had help, it felt like I was being dragged along with the curtains more than anything. I was exhausted. My arms and legs felt like jelly and my hands could barely hold a grip. I couldn’t see much with part of the curtain covering my eyes, but I could feel the puffiness in my face after all that crying too. How…. embarrassing; to weep so pathetically and shamefully in front of everyone. What was there to cry about? Mr. Morde saved everyone there. Those were wasted tears as far as I was concerned. The phrases big girls don’t cry and crying won’t fix anything echoed in my mind. If I was ever gonna cry again I’d have to do it in secret; I just need to figure out how I’m gonna do this.

I didn’t even realize how cold I felt until a breeze swept underneath the makeshift cloak sending goosebumps all over my body. Soon I felt some extra weight on my shoulders. I no longer felt the drag of the curtains on the floor behind me and I felt a little warmer. I didn’t know who did that but I whispered “Thank you.” Someone squeezed my left hand gently, “Think nothin’ of it sweety.” It was Mrs. Rosie I suppose that means Mr. Morde was at my right, so far that was reassuring after all that happened. How did that even happen anyway? My mind kept meandering back to what happened at the salon. I was really enjoying myself, the entire thing felt like a mini spa day; or as close as I ever got to one. Everything felt like it was going great up until the last part. I remember the brush dusting my chest off, and that tickled a little, and then…..What even was that? How did I do that? I didn’t even know I could do something like that.

“We’re here” Rosie jovially proclaimed in a sing-song voice. I heard the shop bell ring as the door was opened and I was led inside. I was taken to one of the many parlor chairs inside the store when they finally loosened their grip on me and I inelegantly plopped down into the plush cushions with an unconscious little bleat. My nose was the only thing currently poking out from underneath the double-piled curtain, so I gripped the makeshift cloak close to my chest readjusted my body, stretched out my neck, and vigorously shook the curtain off my head. I wiggled my ears and blinked a few times to adjust my blurry vision to the bright lights inside the store. I saw both their shapes smiling and standing ahead of me, or I think they were. It was hard to tell so I just guessed and gave a big grinning smile back with my eyes closed and greeted them, “Hello!”

Rosie giggled back, “Well hello there yourself sweetheart.” I squinted attempting to focus my eyes again to see where I was in the store. Rough outlines of clothes of all kinds came into view. Well, sort of…. I could guess by the lengths of some that they were dresses and gowns. That’s not my thing so far as I was concerned, plus they were probably too nice to ruin.

This would be so much easier if I knew what my job would be. My eyes lost focus as they opened wide when Rosie surprised me by stepping between my line of sight and leaning down. I could now see her face clearly and it unsettled me. Her black lips circled her bear-trap-liked teeth, and the darkness of her eyes made it look like you were staring into the hollowed eye sockets of a skull. She even had the pallor to match like a sugar skull accented with pinkish blush and eyeshadow.

“Oooh how gorgeous!” She squealed with delight looking at my eyes. “ I have just the thing to match those pretty lavender eyes.” Rosie swiftly left my view and returned with a very frilly ensemble. “Now I know it’s not your size, but I can have one made for you if I take your measurements.” She looked at me expectantly for my answer as I looked over the outfit. That skirt had a lot of tiers trimmed with ugh….lace; and a matching jacket to boot. I mean overall it was lovely but not really “me”. I should probably let her down gently, or at least steer the conversation somewhere else.

“While I agree that it is lovely, I feel it’s more suited for a nice party than for day-to-day wear. You don’t suppose there is anything more umm….. what’s that word….. Sporty? I think that’s it.” I looked back at her with what I hope is a doe-eyed expression. “I need something that is both presentable and work-friendly so that I won’t feel too bad if I get it dirty. I’m certain that working with your talents will lead to the best of both worlds.” I think that sounded polite enough. I hope I didn’t say anything that she might take offense to.

“Oh of course darling! Pardon me for skipping ahead. Why don’t we start with the basics?” She turned to Mr. Morde “We’ll be right back.” We left him behind in the sitting area and; she walked me to the lingerie section at the back of her store where the fitting rooms were away from prying eyes. “So, Let’s talk turkey. Any thought on what unmentionables you’d like to wear?” The gears in my head screeched to a halt before slowly kicking back in, “Um…. No? I never really thought about it before. I mean how many could there possibly be?” She looked at me puzzled. “Certainly more than a couple. It’s not like you were au naturale in the living world. Though by the look of how you landed here, maybe you were?” She wondered a loud rubbing her chin. My face felt warmer than usual, embarrassed I hastily blurted out, “No, I wear undergarments.” She smiled puckishly, “Good to hear. Do you want me to rattle them off for ya, sweetheart?”

“Yes, Please.” I nodded. “For starters, we carry chemises, short and long petticoats, and corsets of all kinds. We also carry corset covers, drawers, as well as stockings…...” All those names were making my head spin. Did women really wear all that just before their actual clothes? Honestly I probably only understood like half of that. I have never worn more than standard briefs, sports bras, and socks. Before she continued, I tried to lightly interject, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but is there anything I can wear comfortably with pants?” Geeze I hope that was polite enough. I look at her with an uncomfortable gaze of nervous anticipation. “Oh, so that’s your inclination? Well after we’re done here we’ll pick through the trousers. Anyway, let me get your measurements and I’ll see if we have a basic set available.” Rosie pulls out a long ribbon of sewing tape. Damn it, I hate getting measured. It always makes me feel so fat.

“So, kiddo do you know your size or do ya need me to measure?” It was a dreaded question, to say the least. “Umm….” Rosie chuckled while I was trying to remember my size. “Just kidding sweetie. People who end up down here are seldom the same size as they were in life.” That made me feel a little better. “Now I’m gonna need you to stand up straight.” I did my best to straighten out only to have my eyes widened in surprise as she pulled my shoulders back a bit more. “Come on now keep it up. I need to measure you properly for the best fit.” I’ll admit that fixing my posture was more than a little bit tiring as she deftly glided around me looping the tape around various parts of my body. She must be great at keeping track of the measurements since I didn’t see her scribbling anything down. “Alright, I think I have just enough to start with.” She daintily walked out of view and tugging down on my now wiggly ears I thought to myself Nadia you’re going to embarrass yourself you fraud. You know nothing about clothing and even less about fashion just take what she gives you and move on. We can research this later. Oh, God, I hope there’s a library around here.

“Here we go.” I let go of my ears when I heard her cheery voice only to see her arms laden with off-white old-timey unmentionables. “We’ll start with the basics every girl needs.” She handed me three mostly unfamiliar pieces of clothing and some black stockings. The first item looked like a pair of shorts, the second some sort of tank top, and the third thing looked like a very early version of a sausage stuffer, I meant a girdle. “I understand that most sinners often wear skimpier undergarments, but if you’re gonna make a home here you should wear local clothing. Just think of it as a ‘home team’ uniform. ” She winked but I didn’t really get it. “Why should I do that?” I tilted my head. “It’s an open secret that anyone who looks too out of place gets eaten.”

My ears pinned back at the prospects of such draconian enforcement by the local populace. “Oh don’t worry your pretty little head that’s what I’m here for. Besides sinners always come back, so it’s more like a slap on the wrist, if anything.” I’m not sure that made me feel any better…. “ I’ll make sure you look the part and nobody will bother you about that.” I nodded even though I was unsure if it was warranted and said, “OK.” She smiled and we went over the basic how-to’s. The bloomers were straightforward enough, I mean I suppose they're like early boxers without the crotch flap, and the long tank top was called a ‘chemise’. “Usually we would go with a corset over a chemise to give you shape but since you insisted on trousers we’ll have to go with a flatter look.” Rosie handed me the dreaded girdle. “This should also help keep your little problem under wraps if those stitches ever come loose.” she motioned to the faintly shimmering stitches on my chest. She explained to me that I had to put this over the chemise just like a corset. There was some pretty decent resistance to putting it on after several attempts. The way it sometimes made the chemise bunch up occasionally was irritating on my skin. She was surprised at how I managed to wear everything all twisted and crooked. I was happy when Mrs. Rosie helped me fix it, now it felt more comfortable. She makes it look so easy, I envy that.

I felt less than satisfactory looking down at my new unmentionables. I mean as underwear goes it’s rather pretty, but my boobs stick out too much even with the brassier. “Mrs. Rosie?” I asked, “Is there any way to make my um…. breasts look smaller? They kind of stick out too much for my liking.” She gave me a bewildered look, was what I said really that odd?

“Hmmm…. What a rather odd request. Usually, the girls want me to accentuate their femininity are you perhaps against that?” I looked off to the side thinking. “I don’t think so. I mean…. they make a great makeshift pillow when I put my head down for a desk nap, but other than that they just get in my way. I don’t care if my butt sticks out a bit. That never bothered me before and it certainly doesn’t now.” She nodded, “So you don’t mind dresses?” I shrug, “Dresses are ok, I guess, but honestly I prefer pants more.” She nodded in what I hoped was understanding, “ Well if that’s what you want try this bandeau instead. Of course, we are gonna have to start from square one, seeing that you have to wear this directly on your body.”

A quick change later and I had it on. The tightness felt just good enough to keep them flat and I would still be able to breathe. Picking the rest of my wardrobe went much more smoothly. The lavender pinstripe shirt was more comfortable than I thought, though I could do without the ribbon around my neck. Mrs. Rosie convinced me that it tied the outfit together. I suppose I’ll have to trust her on this. She even gave me a purple cameo with a white rose on it to go with it. It’s hard to go wrong with black trousers. I liked the glint of the symmetrically paired shiny brass buttons. I gleefully whispered. “Pockets!” I love having pockets! I did like the snazzy brass studded leather belt with a big purple gem as the clasp. Well, it looks like a gem, it could be colored glass; but I do know one thing ‘Shiny’!

I also got my first pair of new shoes. It wasn’t easy. Not many people in Cannibal Town had hooves let alone hooves in my size. I am forever grateful even if I didn’t say anything about it. They felt kind of weird to me at first. It felt like there was a pocket in the back heels for the tiny claws at the back of the hooves, and even if the heels were low I felt a bit floaty. I wasn’t used to walking on my toes, but I guess this is my life now. Oh well, at least I don’t have to go barefoot. I’d rather not step on something gross again with my bare…. hooves? Feet? I’m not used to the idea of having hooves yet. I wonder how I’m supposed to take care of them. Whatever, I felt rather dapper now. “Mrs. Rosie, is there a mirror I could use?”

She smiled, “Of course.” She uncovered a tall double mirror in the dressing room area with a bit of pizzazz. “Ta-da!” I stood close enough that I could see myself without the blur. I didn’t realize how different I looked. My eyes were a light shade of lilac and I was smiling. It wasn’t a big grin but a soft smile. I tried to force a grin, only to not have any real teeth. How weird. It was hard like teeth but in one solid piece on top and bottom. Did I have a beak? I frowned, or at least I tried to frown. I couldn’t frown. I could grin if I wanted to but in the end, my mouth came back to the same placid expression. I was shocked. My eyes however appeared unaffected, at least there’s that. I didn’t like this revelation at all. Was this a punishment? I know I wasn’t a big smiler when I was alive but this seems a bit much. I turned to Mrs.Rosie to give her a closed eye happy smile. “Thank you so much for your help. I look really nice now.”

I heard her squee from my thank you and that made me feel good about myself. I’m glad that I made her happy. “Can I tell Mr. Morde that I’m finished now? I’m sure he has been waiting quite a while.” She bent slightly down getting uncomfortably closer to me. “ Oh, don’t worry about him. He'll be fine. I’m sure he understands that ladies need to take their time.” I could not help but worry. I don’t like to impose on people too much. I feel like they hate me afterward and I don't want to sour whatever rapport I have with him. “Besides” she continued with a sly grin “ if he’s paying you should take advantage of this fine opportunity. It’s not every day that someone else is footing the bill ya know.” I lightly shook my head, “No, no. I don’t want to do that to him he’s been very kind to me so far.” She flicked her wrist up and down, ‘“Come on. At least by yourself a week's worth of clothes. It’s not like you are gonna wash the same outfit every day.” She was right I folded like a wet paper towel to that logic. Conceding I said, “ I don’t want to break the bank or be a greedy guts. Is there any more lightly priced that I could get in the meantime? I didn’t want to come off as crass demanding bargain bin prices. Everything so far has been of very high quality. “Don’t worry sweety I got you covered.”

In the end, we settled for three slightly different pants, 6 styles of shirts, and two long nightshirts. I even got a full week's worth of undergarments in various shades of off-white. I know I wasn’t paying for any of this but I couldn’t help but dread the possible total. We made it back to the front of the store and I greeted Mr. Morde with a smile. I gave him my most sincere thanks for the clothing while we were at the register. “Oh, one more thing.” she pulled out a lovely velvet-lined box that contained a shiny pair of spectacles with a matching accompanying chain. “I’ve noticed that you have trouble seeing so I figured these would help. It’s on the house.” I stared at the glasses in surprise until I heard her. “ Go on don’t be shy.” She smiled expectantly. “But we didn't even see an eye doctor. Will they even work?” She gave me a wink and a nod. “Of course they will. They adjust to the wearer.” Not wanting to disappoint her I gently picked up the glasses with what I hope is a puzzled expression. “ How do they stay on? They have no legs.” She giggled. “They're pince-nez. Just let them pinch the bridge of your nose, and you’ll be fine.”

I did as she said and miraculously my vision became clearer and clearer with every blink. I could finally see! A wow escaped me from under my breath at the sheer amazement of it all. I never thought I would be so happy to see again. I felt simply giddy. I gave my biggest grin “Hello, nice to finally see everyone.” Mr. Morde smiled back. I bet he’s happy that I don’t need to be led by the hand anymore, and Mrs. Rosie was leaning with her elbows on the counter and cradling her face with her hands as she giggled back with a rather toothy smile. “You’re quite welcome.” She went back to the register and began to total everything up. She handed him the receipt. I couldn’t help but sneak a peak at the numbers. The bottom of the slip of paper had the itemized deductions, all of which were $3,500. I was in shock. “Three Thousand- Five Hundred Dollars!” And I promptly fainted. Never in my time alive have I ever spent that much money on clothes. The last thing I heard was Mr. Morde burst out in laughter probably at me with Mrs. Rosie following suit.

Character Banners By @rubra-wav

Sorry for taking so long to post. I am not a very fashion-driven person, so I had to do research and went down multiple rabbit holes. Pinterest is an unimaginable time sink and sometimes Google is not that helpful. I'm just glad I could finish this chapter and I have notes ready for the next one so maybe it'll go by faster. Fingers crossed!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #ace #from nobody to nightmare #constructive criticism welcome #existence is a nightmare #female oc #it's gonna be a long afterlife #rosie hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel rosie #zestial morde #hazbin hotel zestial

5 notes · View notes

late-to-the-magnus-archives · 9 months

Text

Cloud City, Chapter Eleven - a Malevolent AU

He feels Hastur on his lips and under his tongue, behind his eyes and so very careful not to knock Arthur out of his own body because if he is too much himself, he would.

And then it’s gone, and Arthur is gasping, and somehow on his knees, and the bugdog is licking his face with concern and making weird little whimpering buzzing sounds. “Got a kiss after all,” he blurts, laughs weakly, and hangs his head to keep from passing out.

AO3 || Masterpost

-------

They go south toward the water. They go south because no one in their right mind would. This is blocks past Arthur’s apartment building. Not even criminals hide in this place, and Arthur is all too aware that if they find anything alive down here, it will be a monster.

Talk to me, Arthur, Hastur says as Arthur jogs. You’ve been quiet for too long.

Arthur snorts. “Too long, eh?”

Except when asleep, you’re never this silent. Sometimes, not even then.

“Ha,” says Arthur unsteadily, and keeps jogging.

The ocean is in sight now, and the air has gone humid and briny, salty and fishy, unpleasant and still. Every building is boarded up from windows to doors, at least facing the street.

Arthur’s steps sound so damn loud. “Well,” he says. “I guess it doesn’t really matter that I suck so bad at understanding anyone or anything, since I’m about to die.”

Really? says Hastur, dry. That’s where you’re going with this?

Arthur turns down an alley, finally off the main street, and leans against the wall. “Hastur. In the last two days, everything I knew about the universe, my co-workers, my friendly enemies, and my own body has been ripped away, set on fire, and glued back together in a language I don’t fucking speak. You know, I could use a minute?”

Ah, Hastur says.

“Yeah,” Arthur says, and sits right on the ground.

They’re going to be searching for you.

“I know. I know I have to confront him. I know I have to use the dagger on him. I know all of it. I just need a minute, okay?”

Okay.

And so Arthur takes his minute. He takes his minute, and makes it more, just sitting in a silence he has always shunned—a silence he’d been sure was filled with sounds of his daughter, with lies from his parents, with Bella’s soft Don’t leave me before Arthur did, trying to chase down the guy who’d shot her.

And he’s right: it is. But it has more, too.

It has doubts about every arm’s-length relationship he’s ever had. About half the cases he was on, which he’d solved with the same reasoning and instinct that so misled him here. It has questions about Hastur, and their relationship, and what it means that Hastur—an inhuman spirit who will pour all Arthur is out like holy wine—is the only person who actually knows him.

It hits Arthur then that he’s known Hastur longer than his daughter was alive, and that’s the one that undoes him.

He weeps.

Of course, it starts to rain. It doesn’t all land on him, there in the alley. The eaves far above keep much of the water away, and the gutters that still work rush and roar on either side, bleeding the sky into the sea.

He just has to get it out. Just has to sob right past, to let this poison of emotion and terrible thoughts spill, spit it up like bad food he shouldn’t have eaten.

Arthur, Hastur says.

Arthur’s not sure how long it’s been. It’s getting dark. “Yeah?”

You need to eat. The last thing you need to do is pass out while fighting for the survival of humanity.

Arthur chokes a laugh. “Asenath did her thing, remember? I'm fine."

For a while, you'll be fine. You had coffee fifteen hours ago, then you threw up. Asenath helped, but you need food.

Arthur sighs. “How can so much be happening so quickly?”

From my point of view, it’s all been too fast.

Arthur snorts. “Yeah, sure. You can just Contract again.”

Arthur—

“I know, I know. It’s hard to find someone who can host your magnificence, but trust me. It won’t be your last time on Earth.” He sniffles, then pulls out his handkerchief to blow his nose.

You, on the verge of losing everything, murmurs Hastur, offering comfort to me.

“Some of us try not to be an asshole. Take notes,” says Arthur, and stands.

A truly unique human.

“Sure. What’s our plan?”

Now that it’s getting dark, we’ll sneak back to Asenath’s. We know who it is now. We can find a way to track him.

“Can we, though?”

It’s that or trying to find him on our own.

“He could be fucking anywhere.”

Looking for you, no doubt.

“We could set a trap. Call him. I’m bait.”

And he’d show up with so many people we’d never get away. No. It’s hunt or be hunted.

“Fine. But they’ll be watching Asenath’s.” Lower: “Assuming she got away.”

In ordinary circumstances, they’d never know what happened. You simply were there, then vanished. But in this case… I’m fairly sure they know who took your place in the cell.

So yet another impossible threshold was being crossed tonight, it seemed: “Are you saying the coppers are going to go up against the witches?”

I am.

“That… that is gonna go really badly.”

Yes, it is.

“Will it stop if I take out Parker?”

I don’t know, but I do know the police won’t win.

“Fine,” says Arthur, peeking out of the alleyway. The street is quiet and dark; apart from pattering rain, there isn’t a voice, a radio, a dog. “Good as it’s going to get,” Arthur says, and begins the slow climb back up the long hill toward the populated areas.

Toward the witch’s street.

It’s blocked off.

From two blocks down, Arthur stares. All six police cars the city owns are here, pulled up in such a way as to prevent easy access to or egress from the street. From Arthur’s position, he can’t really see what’s going on beyond the cars. What he can see is not good.

There are sparks of light. A flickering, like flame. Smoke rises from several buildings, right and left. Listening hard, he can hear muffled gunshots, as if inside the buildings.

“Shit,” he whispers.

They acted faster than I expected, says Hastur.

“Makes sense,” Arthur murmurs. “If I remember what Parker said. When their Defiler comes into my body, the eye and the hand somehow won’t be his. They don’t want to risk making their horrible rot god angry by letting you get more body parts first.”

We need to leave. We don’t know where Parker lives, do we?

“Not a clue. Don’t have a way to find out, either.”

What do you want to do?

Arthur thinks. “Back to the station.”

Closer to the danger?

“Only an idiot would go, right?”

That doesn’t make this sound like the wiser choice.

“I think what we need to do is stake the place out, watch for Parker, and follow him home.”

Admittedly… that’s not a bad idea. If we can remain undetected.

“We’ve done it before.”

Never with quite so much at stake, or with such handicaps.

Arthur’s body isn’t working right. He can't seem to catch his breath; his hand trembles, and he feels weak. “So I’ll be counting on you paying attention.”

I am.

“Then we’ve got this.”

Exercising caution, they made their way toward the station. Arthur avoids all main streets; it is easier to creep around now that the unseen sun has set. Cloud City is dark at night, unnaturally so, made worse by Arthur’s failing sight.

It feels oddly claustrophobic, even though he is hardly trapped; he keeps having to stop and breathe, just breathe, reassuring himself the world had not closed in, that he is still free. “I hate this,” he whispers.

It’s almost over, Arthur.

One way or another. “Yeah.”

You can do it.

“I have to. So I will.” And he will. “Just another ten blocks.”

Slow. We can do this, Arthur. I believe in you.

How strangely reassuring that is. “Thanks.” And in the dark, Arthur sneaks on.

They’re nearly to the precinct when it happens.

A weird snapping-fluttering sound. Wings flapping, maybe, but without feathers; like a gigantic bug, but not buzzing; it almost sounds like paper.

Could it be from the Wastes? Some new and horrifying insect? Arthur waves his hand over his head, trying to make whatever the fuck that is go away.

Oh, no, Hastur whispers, and Arthur stops.

Before them lands a… creature. It reminds Arthur of his childhood, before they moved here—a sudden and sharp recollection of a picture book, of full-color images of little red bugs, cute and covered in spots.

He’d forgotten. It’s been so long—so many years since he was outside this city, in a place he hardly recalls, and almost seems like a dream. But this thing is… sort of like that?

It’s round like a dinner plate and about the same size; a lovely, cheerful red, shocking in the gloom, with big black spots at random. The wings are what made that paper-flapping sound—they’re clear, delicate, almost like a veil. It has six little legs like black wires, bent and active, letting it scurry from side to side.

But the face is not a bug’s face. It’s some sort of weird, squished dog—bulging eyes, dangling tongue, black nose pressed into its flat, beige cheeks.

Arthur stares.

I’m so sorry, Asenath.

“Asenath?” Arthur blurts.

The bugdog flutters.

“Wh… what, the coppers turned you into a bug?”

The bugdog is laughing at him. It’s not a voiced sound; he can’t even tell what’s making those rapid, happy clicks, but he absolutely knows what that sound is.

“Hastur,” Arthur says warily.

Hastur sighs. This is a piece. A slice. Like a lock of hair, cut off but still bearing the original’s DNA.

“What’s DNA?”

Hastur pauses, then changes tack. This is what remains of Asenath on this mortal plane. And then they both—Summon and bugdog—give Arthur a moment to parse what that means.

He does. He leans on the alley wall; it seems too hard to stand. “You? They killed you?”

The wings flap. There are words in the sound, but Arthur can’t make them out.

Hastur can. He. Not they. She was completely fine until Yang got involved.

Flap-flap-flap.

Even then, it was close... but they’d murdered another person tonight after we got away, bringing the number to seventy-nine.

Flap-flap-flap.

This was too much—more power channeled than she could channel. She knew she’d lose, so she chose to split herself.

“Oh,” Arthur whispers.

Flap-flap-flap. He could almost understand—

Their fight destroyed the station. Yang doesn’t have a proper coven anymore; she’s very proud of the mess she made.

“What?” And Arthur turns on his heel and runs.

Arthur, wait!

Arthur is not waiting. He stops in front of a door and kicks.

The moment before his heel connects, power zips through his body (and his heart stutters, hurts), but the door slams open, lock broken, and he runs inside.

His last ring pops. The last one. That was it. Arthur doesn’t even comment.

Arthur, what the fuck? says Hastur.

He got Asenath killed! He’s dying anyway! It doesn’t matter! Nothing matters! “Do your fucking worst!” Arthur snarls at him, at everything, racing past dummies and tables of fabric, heading for the stairs.

He takes them at a run.

Arthur, what are you doing?

He doesn’t answer, gasping heavily. His body fights him, struggles, but he doesn’t stop until he gets to the roof.

Arthur bursts through that door and doubles over, panting. Behind him, the bugdog flutters with great curiosity before apparently making a guess, and it flits over to the edge of the roof looking north. That’s where Arthur is going. He’s gasping still, but doesn’t care, because from up here, he can perfectly see what remains.

The station is on fire.

It’s largely destroyed; rubble litters the street on all sides of it, entire walls gone, roof caved in. There are no bodies, but Arthur isn’t sure he could see them if there were. This is enough: the place was brought down, and it sure looks like it blew out from the inside.

He stares at it. He wonders how many coppers died. He wonders what will happen to the city now. “Are all the witches dead?” says Arthur.

Flap-flap-flap.

No. In their own homes, they can neither be taken, nor harmed; Asenath thinks the officers sent there were intended to die, to be gotten out of the way, perhaps to grant him more power.

“That means he doesn’t think he needs their help from this point out,” says Arthur. “Are we sure he hasn’t hit eighty-one murders?”

Flap-flap-flap.

If he’d done all eighty-one, with that amount of power, you wouldn’t have been able to hide.

So that is terrifying. “What… what do we do?”

Flap-flap-flap.

No.

Flap-flap-flap!

No. That’s fucking stupid.

“Give me a vote, idiot,” says Arthur.

Hastur’s low growl makes him shiver a little. She suggests heading to a hidden shrine of hers and using the tools she has there to draw Parker to you. It’s a bad idea, and we’re not going to do it.

Arthur looks at the bugdog.

It flaps at him, wings so fast, they’re a blur.

It’s too much. “Asenath really is dead?”

Flap-flap-flap.

His heart hurts. “Are you in the Dark World?”

Flap.

No. “With the… the Mother?”

Flap-flap-flap!

Joyful, that scuttling, and of course, it would be. “Good for you,” Arthur says around the lump in his throat. “You earned it.”

Flap-flap!

Heck yeah, she did. “Your mouse going to be okay?”

A happy little series of flaps.

She says her sisters have Gertrude, and all is well, and you are not to grieve.

Right. Easy-peasy.

So he’d made another mistake. His life was all mistakes right now; he couldn’t trust his decisions, even the ones that he made to try to avoid hurting someone. What the fuck, why not say it? “I’m sorry I didn’t kiss you.”

The bugdog skitters over, climbs onto his foot, and presses its weird dog-face to his shin.

Forgiveness? Pity? Agreement? It’s all there, and it nearly does him in again.

Arthur wipes his eyes, then looks toward the station. Flames lick out the ruined roof; there’s no sign of life at all, which strikes him as odd. No firefighters; no rescue workers.

He looks around. This building is only six stories and does not show him behind or over the skyscrapers, but he still can see a lot—up and down the street, through various apartment blocks, all the dark fronts of stores. There’s no one. Not even a curious gawker. “Where—” His voice cracks, and he clears it. “Where is everybody?”

Flap-flap-flap.

Inside. The witches know what we do this night; they have cast a city-wide spell to keep everyone inside.

“City-wide? I don’t feel anything.”

You have me.

Arthur snorts.

No, Arthur, Hastur says, amused, warm, terrifying. You have me. And then, he—

For a moment, Arthur can’t breathe because Hastur is.

Hastur fills. Hastur already was, but whatever he does now, Arthur feels him in every cell and every vein, flowing like blood through his whole body, sitting like fat under his skin, singing like thoughts in his brain, bearing his weight, strengthening his bones, under every single fingernail and at the root of every hair.

He feels Hastur on his lips and under his tongue, behind his eyes and so very careful not to knock Arthur out of his own body because if he is too much himself, he would.

So. Not a normal Summon. Four hundred years to find someone who could handle him. Servant of the King in Yellow. Arthur is willing to bet that’s more like right hand man of the King in Yellow, but he can’t bring himself to say it.

It doesn’t matter. None of this matters. Only one thing does: he has to confront the ex-lover who’s walking around with the power of many murders he wields like a club, and has to find a way to kill him.

That, and he can’t trust his decisions. That’s so fucking clear; not one thing he’s chosen of late was right, and with so much on the line, he’s not sure he can risk blowing another one. “Tell me my options,” he says to his strange companions.

Flap-flap-flap.

Hastur growls.

“Say it,” says Arthur. “I can almost understand her, anyway.”

You—well. Good for you, says Hastur. Pity we didn’t figure that out years ago; I could have attuned you to great magicks.

“Hastur, you’re fucking stalling.”

Hastur sighs. Very well. She says she has a Black Mirror. I disbelieve this statement; there are none left in the world.

Asenath chitters at him angrily.

Yes, well. Hastur huffs. Through it, you can communicate with Parker, wherever the hell he is right now, and draw him to you into a trap she proposes we set up.

“Okay,” says Arthur, trying not to pass judgment yet. “And your plan?”

We track him down, hunt him, and slit his throat from behind.

“Track him down… somewhere in the city.”

He’s looking for you. He’ll be staking out your office and other places you’re known to hang out. Dryly: Finally, a valid excuse to go to Jack’s Bar.

“Very funny,” Arthur mutters. “Meanwhile, he’s getting ready to do more murders and get to full power, right? Do my chances go up or down while he does that?”

They are the same.

Asenath disagrees, wings whirring.

No, says Hastur. They are the same.

Arthur does not think they are the same, given that Hastur already said eighty-one murders would make Parker too powerful to avoid.

Still; even with this, he’s more of the stakeout type—more the kind who’d prefer to sneak behind his prey and gut him, much prefer to do this without having to meet Parker’s gaze. He'd rather do it Hastur's way—so. Since that’s where his heart falls… “We do it Asenath’s way.”

Hastur’s surprise is palpable. What?

“Asenath’s way.”

Apparently, the bugdog is surprised, too. It skitters in a circle, weirdly almost dancing, then pauses to wriggle its rear end. At Hastur, Arthur is sure. He laughs.

Arthur, this is a bad idea.

“Why?”

Because he’ll simply show up with whatever’s left of his coven and overpower you.

Flap-flap-flap.

Arthur understands. “Not if we set the trap right.”

Arthur…

“The risks are huge the other way, too,” Arthur says. “I’m weakened. All my rings are gone—even the weird ones in that bag, which shouldn’t have worked. All I’ve got is my onyx taper, at this point. If I’m going to get a shot at this, I can’t rely on the luck of my past. I can’t just… assume I’ll overpower him, or outlast him, or whatever else. He’s horrifyingly strong. I’m fucking not that. A trap is the best bet.”

You don’t actually mean that, do you? says Hastur, who has always known when Arthur tried to lie.

“No,” says Arthur. “That makes it more important that that’s what we do.”

Arthur…

“No. I suck at all of this. I’ve misjudged everyone and everything. My gut says to do your thing, so we’re going to do hers.”

You are… ridiculous.

“Sure. Whatever. Where are we going, Asenath?”

Willful.

“You’re the one who picked me.” And Arthur does not add and is choosing not to shove me out of my body because surely that impression was wrong. Summons can’t do that.

(Maybe this Summon can.)

(Thinking about it will only fuck him up, so he doesn’t.)

The bugdog buzzes, then skitters for the stairs.

Arthur doesn’t hesitate to follow.

(chapter twelve)

#malevolent #malevolent big bang 2023 #malevolent fanfic #arthur lester #hastur malevolent #malevolent au #cloud city fic #parker yang #asenath waite #trans asenath waite #trans woman

2 notes · View notes

penumbramewtwos · 2 years

Text

Fight your demons

I wrote a short piece of lore for my main OC Mewtwo :> It then turned into a piece about mental health... But still had the lore within it. I've been liking the written posts from @the-project-and-the-ghost and wanted to do my own twist on just, well writing... Maybe an exercise of sorts? Just for fun? Maybe both ^^ [[[Chapter 3 coming soon :3 Very Soon! Almost imminent!]]]

Inside a familiar laboratory, for all whom have read Okita's premonition. At this point in time, we're situated well before the events that would seal the fate of her trainer...

The year is 2066. The monitors are humming, yet, there is no tank at the far end of the lab. We find Okita training by herself within the cavern walls: Not on defence or evasion. Not a shadow ball, nor a psychic attack in sight. Just matter being compressed and twisted into an ultimate form by the fine threaded telekinesis running through her paw.

She's almost there. She's formed another Neutron star within her telekinetic grasp. Okita closes her eyes to concentrate, buckling and pressurising the tiny star; spinning it on its axis until a pulsars' beam burns the sides of her lab... It's an easy fix...

She has to keep going!

The self-made Anti-gravity beams made of exotic energy and matter have begun to creak under the sheer gravity of the pulsar, that's spinning within the Mewtwo's control.

She hasn't blunk for several hours since she began pushing her telekinesis to the limits of what's possible. Compressing, threading and unrelenting power compresses the starstuff through the Sub-atomic scale!

There's still a way to go until Planck-length...

The Mewtwo's eyes burn an amethyst purple, as her body begins to break under the pressure; Her shattered wrists and broken tail are the least of her concern.

Okita's body has grown resistant to her medicine. She should never have attempted to mega evolve. Her human forme, now forever deformed and tainted with the blood of her past; now a figment of said past.

Not far to go now... The miniature pulsar is flickering intermittently between light and dark, white and black.

The thought of Okita's mutilators' laughter fills her with an ungodly rage! She screams with telepathy! She screams 'Mew' with her physical voice! The soundwaves distort by the raw energy invested into forming her ultimate attack. There's no turning back! Once she forms the singularity, who knows what might happen! What's there to lose, when you're a freak of nature she thinks to herself...

Burning light. Despairing darkness.

"WHAT AM I!?!?!?!?!"

Here comes the singularity...

Okita's mind is a flush with rage and fury! Thoughts of all the sleepless nights, and every moment spent Weeping from memories of the torture chamber that created her!

This first black hole formed by Okita will be nothing more than a symbol of how her demons envelop and consume her mind.

Just let it out... Scream your heart out, Mewtwo... Okita... And let some light peirce through your mind once more!

"YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME! I..! AM..! HUMAN!!!" ... ... ... ... Dust, debris, and beam of light, followed by wincing noise of screeching and twisting metal burst out through the Onix tunnels! ... ... ... She's done it. She's Broken bones... But the power to bend spacetime itself is a reward nonetheless... ... What will she do with this new skill? ... For now. She'll recover to heal her body. Her mind has begun to heal already.

Let it out...

#mewtwo #newtwo #pokemon #oc lore #fanfic #short story #depression recovery #PTSD #black hole #pulsar #planck stars #neutron star #fan region

5 notes · View notes

acourtofsnakes · 3 years

Text

Gaa’tayl - Rogue Chapter 4| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader

Summary: After making your decision, the race is on to try and save Mando’s life. But when things start to go south, a part of you breaks open that you hadn’t let yourself feel for a long time. How will it change you? And how will it shape whats to come?

Warnings: Injury detail/blood, first aid, little bit of swearing, hint of angst? some very faint fluff, pining thoughts because who wouldn’t, it’s Mando

Trigger warnings: beginnings of a panic attack, vicious thoughts, flashback to attempted suicide, personification of depression/negative thoughts using triggering - please be careful, my inbox is always open if you need to talk♥︎

Word count: 5394

AN: This chapters easter egg hint: Can you find the quote originally said by a purple grape with an affinity for shiny stones?👀

Also, gif isn’t necessarily relevant to the main plot of this chapter but... you’ll see why we have hands as a gif.

As always, credit to whoever owns the gif. I usually find them on Google or Pinterest, so message me if it’s yours ♥︎

Rogue Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar @weirdowithnobeardo

Mando’a Translation: Gaa'tayl - Help

Blood.

There was blood everywhere.

In your hair, over your clothes.

It was coating your neck and your face. You could taste it. Coppery, hot.

~Screaming was still echoing around the street, heart-wrenching cries of those who had just seen their loved ones forced into the air and torn apart by the explosion. The smell of metal and smoke mixed with the stench of blood and burning flesh.

Blood.

You could taste it.

Your parent’s blood, maybe your own. The taste of it was in your mouth.~

Your heart thundered in your chest as you stared down at the Mandalorian.

You’d been watching him, knowing you needed to decide and then he’d gasped. And just… went still. You felt his blood pulse out under your hands and then he was just quiet.

You couldn’t hear his ragged breathing anymore.

Was he…

~You pushed your hands against your mothers neck, desperate to feel for the pulse that you’d felt for the last 12 years of your life.

Nothing. There was nothing there. She was dead. Your mother. Your sweet, strong mother who sung you lullabies and taught you how to dance… was dead.~

He couldn’t be.

You dared to risk lifting a hand from the jagged hole in his side and pressed your fingertips against his neck. You knew there was a small slither of skin here, you’d seen it yesterday as he leant forward to look at something. You pushed your fingers deeper into the rapidly cooling skin of his neck, waiting. Hoping.

There was nothing.

No, no, there had to be. There had to be something.

You swallowed, calming yourself enough to concentrate. You ducked your head down, like it could help you focus on the skin beneath your fingers.

There.

Some kind of choked noise escaped your lips as you felt his pulse, weak and fluttering, but there. Undiluted fear ran through your veins. This was on you now.

And so, the clock was reset.

You wasted no time, ripping off your cloak and using the length of it wrap around his waist. It was nowhere enough, not enough pressure for a tourniquet or anything even remotely close because of the armour lining his body. However, it would serve to try and soak up some of the blood.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling the Mandalorian to sit up. Then rose into a crouch and hauled him up so you were both standing.

Only to immediately collapse as your knees buckled with the lightning bolts of agony that speared across your ribs. Fuck. Right. Broken ribs. Stars exploded across your vision but you sucked in a deep, painful breath. We’ve dealt with worse. This isn’t about you know. Get up.

You dragged your feet back under you, pulling the Mandalorian up again, holding his weight against your good side.

Prey helping hunter.

In, out. A shallow, slow breath that didn’t hurt quite so much, and then you began to walk, half dragging the Mandalorian along with you. You couldn’t manage any more than a slow walk, your own injuries and pull of his amour and dead weight threatening to drag you down again.

No, no. Not dead. Unconscious. He’s unconscious. Get him to the ship, clean it, spray it with bacta-spray, cauterise it, bind it. That’s all you need to do.

You repeated this like a mantra as you walked back through the street, through those puddles of light.

Get him to the ship, clean it, spray it with bacta-spray, cauterise it, bind it.

You repeated it again and again, even when the skies opened and rain lashed down, loosening your grip on the shiny metal and dragging you both down.

Get him to the ship.

There it was, such a welcome sight you might have cried. You fumbled on the arm that you’d slung around your shoulder, pressing buttons on his vambrace until the ramp opened and soft light and warmth called you inside.

Hunter and prey stumbled up the ramp, and you just got him inside, managed to lay him down in front of a big heavy crate.

You took a moment, darkness threatening to overcome you and a ringing in your ears. You shook your head sharply, pushing it off and then dropped to your knees, looking over his body. The wound was on his side, in between where the front and back plates of his armour were attached.

Thank the Maker. You didn’t know what you would have done if it was closer to his armour. You unsheathed your knife, frantically cleaning it on your damp tunic and then quickly cut away a patch of fabric that was over and around the wound, gritting your teeth when you had to coax the torn threads from the hole.

Which had been acting like a dam. Scarlet blood immediately began to flood from the jagged flesh, soaking the floor below him, your hands.

You blinked, unable to stop staring for a second. How did so much blood come out of someone?

Memories hounded at your shoulders, threatening to drag you under, toward a market square, a dusty floor.

Clean it.

You nodded to yourself, the order in your mind and then scrambled to your feet. A quick search revealed some clean rags and a half full canteen of water. You grabbed the cauteriser and the med-kit on your way back to him, resting it beside you like it was sacred and then you turned to the wound. You wiped your hands on your knees, then dipped the cloth in water, beginning to gently, but quickly dab away the blood.

Bloody water pooled beneath the Mandalorian, so you hurriedly shoved your cloak under him to soak it up so he wouldn’t be lying in water.

Spray it.

Your hands shook as you turned to the little metal box beside you, so much so that it took you 3 attempts to open the latch. Despite the situation, you couldn’t help the exasperated sigh at the rubbish of scraps of bandage that were mere threads, empty wrappers, all littering the top. Really, Mando?

You pawed though the med-kit, turning out empty wrappers and.. nothing else.

What?

There was no bacta-spray. No bandages. Hell, there wasn’t even a needle and thread for you to stitch the damn skin together. All you had was a bunch of wadded up fabric from a rag and some water. Why didn’t this man have any medical supplies? He was a Mandalorian for Maker’s sake. He probably had an injury list to rival yours, yet he didn’t even have so much as a needle?

You groaned, lifting a shaking hand to your face for a moment, breathing shallowly through your nose as another wave of agony seared through your ribs and the old injury in your shoulder.

Your shoulder.

The one that was clean. Bound.

That’s where the last of the medical supplies had gone, used on your own injury when he brought you away from Sorgan.

You looked up at his unconscious form, horror in your expression, in your heart. The wound was weeping still, deep, surely missing vital organs because he would have been dead instantly in that alleyway.

You didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t risk getting a medic from the town, one because he didn’t have the time, and two because… well, they’d sell you out. Know who you were, the bounty.

Your heart began to beat faster, it usual rhythmic thumps turning frantic, uneven.

It was your fault that there was nothing to save him.

You couldn’t breathe.

Just like it was your fault he had been hurt in the first place.

You couldn’t save him.

Darkness swirled inside you, recognising what was happening to your body.

He was going to die… because of you.

Just like your parents. And everyone else after.

With no warning, you chest constricted, steel bands wrapping around your lungs, crushing them from the inside out with a pain deeper than your cracked ribs. A roaring surged through your ears and suddenly the ship was spinning in circles.

The beast, that poisonous beast that slumbered within you lifted its head, scenting your anxiety and fear and it purred with sick delight. Your spiralling was like a siren call and it crawled up, up, up and that seductive velvety voice that hounded you, began to whisper to you inside your head, “Hello, darling. It’s been a while.”

No. No not again. Not another dead body, not another tally against your name.

“Murderer. Murderer. You killed your parents. You killed your friends. You killed everything even remotely good that’s ever been in your life.”

A sob began to build in your throat, an extra pressure that had you gasping for air, hunching over the floor-

“Look at you, crying. So weak. So pitiful. You deserve every single person that’s ever come after you, deserve every ounce of pain that you’ve been dealt. You call yourself a wolf, but you are a monster.”

It was right. That chasm of fear and darkness that always stayed with you was right. Of course it was. It had been right all those years ago, and the words it was whispering into you like silken poison were true.

“Exactly, my darling. I am born of that savage beast in you, remember? You created me, you formed me from the truth and knowledge that everyone you touch dies. You have tried to deny this part of yourself for so long, darling, so, so long. But you will never escape it. This is your destiny. To kill those that come near you. ”

You shook your head, tears flooding down your cheeks now as you wrapped your arms around your middle. The movement jolted your ribs, but it’s lick of fiery pain barely made it through the agony in your chest. I can run from it. I can escape it, you’re wrong, you’re wrong!! That’s not my destiny. I can make up for it, I can be good, I AM good-

A silken laugh and then a soft sigh, like it almost felt sorry for you, “Dread it. Run from it. Destiny arrives all the same. And now it's here. You have let the Mandalorian get hurt for you, and now he will die.”

No… no. No, not him. He can’t. He saved me, he’s good, I can see it. He has a son. I deserve the death sentence, but not him. Please, someone, anyone. Save him, please save him-

“No one is coming to help you, darling. You have finally done it. You have killed a father whilst his son sleeps just down the hallway.” It purred, caressing the inside of your head with claws, “Give in, darling. It’s time to give in. You eluded my call once before, but that won’t happen this time. Your pretty power won’t save you now, not now you pushed it away. Come to me.. escape the pain, finish what you should have gone through with years ago…”

An irresistible darkness reached out a hand, dropping the memory down onto you before you could stop it.

~~A glass vial, a shimmering poison you stole from the market.

Rain, pounding down around you as you looked up at the moon.

Water, crashing below the rocky outcrop you stood on.

Burning, a feeling like liquid fire inside you as that sweet, shimmering poison slipped down your throat.

I’m sorry.

A final look at the moon, so big and beautiful as you turned around, your heels hanging off the end.

Goodbye.

Wind, rushing past your ears.

The icy crush of water as it devoured your body, pulling you into it’s shadowy depths.

The fire turning molten, slipping through your blood, devouring you as the water has, coaxing you to close your eyes as your body melts from the inside out.

Quiet, a heady quiet as you succumbed to the beast in your chest that was purring with glee.

Nothing.”~~

And then… something echoed within you. Caught the attention of the beast.

“No. Not again.” It’s snarl was predatory, dangerous.

The flashback came easier this time,

~~A hum began to fill the cottony silence in your head, waking you.

This wasn’t right You weren’t supposed to wake up, you were supposed to be free from the pain and the destruction you caused.

Easy, it seemed to whisper, relax. It is not your time yet, you still have much to experience.

Protest flooded your body as you started to feel your limbs again. You didn’t want this, you didn’t want to come back. You didn’t deserve to.

“Yes, you do.”, it whispered. “It will be tough, there will be more pain and running, I’m afraid, but it will start a fire within you, that will only grow to serve you. You will triumph over this fear, you will become the warrior that you have always been. There will come a time, when things will change. You will do something you wouldn’t normally do, you will save one that deserves to be saved. Rules will be broken, and something new will be forged. Two lives will be forever entwined. Awaken now, and begin again.”~~

Heat began to envelop you, coaxing your stiff limbs to relax, drawing focus in your mind and making you come back to yourself. The rain beating against the outside of the ship, the smell of blood, two pairs of floppy ears at your side as they looked up at you.

You turned your head, blinking through your tears at the Mandalorian, who’s life was hanging by a single thread.

Your body shuddered as you leant over his unconscious form. A tight feeling curled in your chest, whispering to you.

Let me out. I can save him.

You shook your head, you couldn’t. You’d hidden it away for so long, such a long time. You didn’t even know what to do

Let me out. Let me save him.

You sobbed, a soft noise of defeat, a noise of relief, and you moved your hands to on his side. You whispered out loud, “Save him.” and then… let go

A deep, primal surge took over your body, shaking it, making goosebumps rise to your skin, a feeling lance through your spine. It wasn’t a pain… more a like a release of tension as ever cell in your body thrummed.

You shuddered from head to toe, feeling the cage that you had spent 20 years building shatter like nothing. Just like that. Not forcing its way out, no clawing to be let loose.

It was gentle. It overrode the malignant beast of darkness and despair, smothering it in light.

Powerful, of course, for being shut away for so long but… gentle. It was the energy that roamed through the galaxy, flowed in every single living thing, connected them all together.

It slipped from the cage you had bound it in, humming in delight as it was allowed to join with you again.

Free.

It rolled out of you in waves, rattling the walls, the boxes on the floor.

It made the lights flicker on and off as it bumped up against the walls and the floor.

That power healed your ribs as it poured out of you, and then honed itself, as if knowing you didn’t possess the control that was needed.

It swept down your arms, caressing you like a comforting sweep of a hand, soothing you. You felt it glide over your knuckles, slip along and over the Mandalorian’s body like silk and then…

His wound healed. The ragged flesh knitted back together and the blood seeped back into the Mandalorian’s body where it belonged. It replenished him, saved him, leaving only a red line behind, a scar.

That power, now having done its job, slipped from your body and left you spent. Shattered. With its final act, it whispered a sweet song of sleep and safety to you.

With a soft noise, your eyes fluttered shut and you collapsed forward over the Mandalorian’s now relaxed form.

A caress of your hair began to coax you from your slumber.

Long fingers, pushing into your hair at the crown of your head, and trailing through slowly all the way over to the back of your neck.

You hummed softly, shifting your head because the pillow beneath you was hard and cold.

The hand stopped and the next drag of fingers through your hair was slower, hesitant in a way. When the fingers brushed over your neck, you melted, a sigh drawing from your lips.

You didn’t want this to end, especially when those same fingers caressed your face, brushing the strands away and you felt them tug slightly, as if lifting a piece of your hair, memorising the colour and the softness of it.

It was safe here. You could relax. It was warm and cosy, even if the pillow beneath you was hard. And smelt faintly of metal. Weird. Oh well. You nuzzled against the coolness, humming again.

Somewhere above you, there was what sounded like a soft chuckle. A caress of your forehead that trailed down the bridge of your nose. It traced over the swoop of your lips and then along your jaw, like they were mapping your features. The touch was so tender, so sweet that it almost bought tears to your eyes. You had been alone for so long, so very long and almost every encounter you had was violent.

People didn’t touch you to be kind. They touched you to kill you.

A thudding impact of knuckles instead of a warm arm around your shoulders.

The sting of a knife edge at your throat instead of soft lips trailing over your skin.

Ropes and cuffs digging into your wrists instead of familiar fingers linking through your own.

It wasn’t even a sexual or heated touch that you missed, it was anything. You craved it, the tender familiarity of someone using touch to tell you how much you meant to them, that they cared about you.

And this… this phantom tracing of your features spoke of a touch that was almost a little unsure. A touch that was mapping something for the first time, drawing attention to the tiny little features you didn’t even know you had, but someone was admiring and drinking in. It was a little hesitant, a little shy but… achingly sweet.

Outside of this haze, something started to call to you, coaxing you to open your eyes. Your eyelids fluttered, your head clearing as you moved and the hand was then gone.

No, you wanted to whisper. Don’t stop.

It might have been hours later, but you became aware of the noises of the Razor Crest. The familiar hum of engines and instruments. You could distantly hear Grogu’s happy cooing as he played with Duru. Right beneath your head, you could hear steady breathing, muffled slightly by a helmet.

By a helmet.

Your head snapped up, eyes widening as you stared down at the floor.

Mando was breathing. Deep, even and steady intakes of air that lifted his chest, filtering through his lungs.

You made a soft noise, looking down at his side. You picked up the blanket and peered at the ragged tear in his underclothes.

Nothing.

The stab wound in his side was gone. Healed.

You’d done it… You saved him.

You slumped back, rubbing your hands over your face with a soft sigh of relief. You were shaking all over though and you felt… unhinged in some way. Almost painfully exposed. You had broken something, something inside you that had taken years to build.

The only way you were able to survive was by shutting away that part of you, that pure, natural power that you could still feel echoing in your bones.

And the constant pain that you had was gone, no more tightly wound tension now that it had been freed.

It had to go back in, had to be built into a cage that was stronger, more impenetrable. You didn’t know why it had taken a man who you don’t really know, bleeding out in front of you to rise from the ashes.

A man who you killed for without second thought. You always through yourself into a fight with no hesitation, but last night, or earlier or whenever it was, you had fought differently.

That wasn’t a frantic dance of survival, where your life was the crescendo and Death was the orchestra. No, that had been precision. Cunning.

You had shed the claws and snarl, grown fangs and poison. Wolf to Viper.

The bounty had been your prey. You struck, and you killed.

For a man you didn’t even really know.

You swallowed, scratching at the itchiness of your face. Stop. Do not even go there. Don’t. At least not yet.

Red flakes fell from your face, reminding you of the layer of grime and blood that was dried onto your skin.

Right. You needed a shower.

You checked back on Mando, satisfied that he was okay and then you went off for a shower and to potentially drown yourself.

You returned a short while later, carrying a bowl of warm water, a small towel over your arm and a canteen of water tucked into the crook of your elbow. The dark creature in you was silent, oddly silent and you wondered if it would remain that way.

Best not dwell on it and encourage it to wake back up.

You picked your way across the floor around storage boxes and tubs of things to where you’d left Mando.

To find him sitting up, grunting a little at the apparent stiffness in his lips. His head snapped up when he heard you, his body relaxing, “You weren’t there when I woke up, I didn’t know if something had happened to you.”

You couldn’t help the slight chuckle as you reached his side, sitting down next to him against the crate and setting out all the things you’d brought with you. “Easy… I had to have a shower, I couldn’t even recognise my own face with all the blood and dirt on it.”

He leant back against the crate behind you, watching you, “I know.. I stirred a couple hours ago and nearly had a heart attack. I thought… You were passed out next to me and I couldn’t reach you to see if you were breathing, I was too stiff. I thought..” He seemed to swallow back his next words, his hands tightening into fists on the blanket now on his lap.

Your heart stuttered in your chest, that raw honesty in his rasp. He’d thought you had died.

Just like you thought he had.

A certain atmosphere settled around you, getting tighter and feeling… different. You could feel the heat rolling off of him through your chilled bones, even with the layer of beskar over his body.

You cleared your throat and held out the canteen. “Here. I bought you some water.”

Mando reached out to take the water from you, gloved fingers brushing yours and you noticed the blood that had soaked into them was dry now. “I never pegged you for the healing type.”

Honey, you have no idea.

You laughed, shrugging, “You live a life like mine, you end up getting battered more times than you can remember. I’ve had to fix myself up so many times, you were a walk in the park.” You grinned, teasing him but your expression was strained. You could still taste his blood.

You cleared your throat again and reached beside you for the bowl of water before placing it between you “I found some gloves upstairs when I was looking for a towel… I didn’t know if you’d want to change them.” You bit your lip, eyes flicking over the helmet, that tension still there, lingering. Then you remembered. “Oh, shit. Sorry.” You turned around, facing your back to him to give him privacy.

There was nothing for a few moments, and then you heard the bowl drag closer to him. There was a soft tug of friction, leather sliding over skin and dropping to the floor.

Your spine tightened slightly, knowing that his bare skin wasn’t far off. You could never turn around though, you wouldn’t do that to him. It didn’t stop your breathing from turning shallow, and you just prayed he couldn’t hear it.

Water splashed, and suddenly, an unbidden image burst in your head. Mando’s bare hands, dipping into the warm water, rubbing the washcloth over his palms and knuckles. Beads of water sliding down his fingers and the bare, smooth skin of his wrist. Was his skin tan? Smooth or scarred? You wondered if he had any freckles on his hands. Perhaps not, if they were in gloves all the time. Did he take them off when he was truly aloe? Let the golden light of the sun kiss over his knuckles…

What.

The fuck.

Was that.

Your eyes widened as you looked into the corner of the room, heat flushing your neck and chest. Why, in all the stars had that popped into your head? This man had been on death’s door, you had saved him, turned yourself inside out and now you were mooning over the sound of him cleaning his hands? Get a grip, girl.

“Done. You can turn around..” His voice floated over to you, soft and you waited a few moments before you turned back to face him, praying the dimness of the cargo hold was enough to hide your flush. “Thank you.”

You shook your head, taking the dirty gloves now that the other clean ones were on his hands. “Oh, no, you don’t need to thank me. They were just gloves.” You couldn’t look at him, instead laying the gloves down, resting them both on top of each other so that the fingers and thumbs matched up.

Mando shook his head, “No… not for the gloves. I mean – yes, for the gloves too but… For saving me. You didn’t need to, but you did. You could have walked right past, but you fought that asshole, you killed him, for me. And then you saved me..” His voice was still rough, and that atmosphere flickered again, encouraging you to raise your eyes to him.

He titled his head, a hand drifting to his side, “Speaking of which… How?”

You blinked, fought to keep your expression even, “How what?”

Mando’s head remained tilted, “How did you save me? I looked earlier when I woke up but… there was only a scar there. Like it was weeks old, not hours.”

You’d already thought this moment in the refresher, “Oh, that. Uh, I had some bacta-spray left over in my bag. I kept it for emergencies…” You kept your voice casual, pausing now and then as if thinking it over. Expect this part, you didn’t need to feign the quieter tone, “My mother taught me which leaves and flowers could be used for healing, to speed up healing times. My… father worked a rough job and sometimes he would come home with deep cuts and bruises and mumma would always fix them…” You cleared your throat, “I had some left over too.” Your skin felt hot, uncomfortable. You hadn’t intended to share past the point of, “to speed up healing times,” but something about his silence had felt encouraging.

He was still watching you, and you had no idea if he believed you or not. However, his voice was softer as he simply said, “Thank you. I didn’t deserve it, for what I’ve done. I’m forever.”

“Ooh.. You would have done the same for me, I’m sure...” You laughed a little but it was uneasy, unsure where this was going, that tone in his voice and the intensity of his words. You remained focused on your task of playing with the gloves, that courage that sung through your blood everyday had vanished, leaving you unable to look at him, even if you could feel the visor of the helmet boring into you.

He leant forward and seconds later, freshly gloved fingers tilted your chin up so you had to look at him, “Exactly. I would have. I did, that’s why he hurt me… so...” He reached behind him, for one of those many pockets and pouches on his body, fumbling for something.

You frowned, tilting your head, “What are you doing? You’ll pull at your wound-“

Mando pulled something out from his back, holding them out to you and presenting them like a fucking prize.

Your bounty puck. And the tracking fob.

What the fuck was he doing?

You jerked back out of his touch, the wolf snarling in you as your eyes flicked up to him, “Seriously? You’re bringing that up? We just went through all of that, and you’re coming back to a fucking bounty puck? I knew I was just a bounty, but you could have waited until you could walk at least.” Your voice was a snarl, but benath that… a hurt.

He made a soft noise, shaking his head as he once again read what you were thinking, that you had misunderstood. “No, no, I don’t mean that…” He took a breath, and then he gently pulled your hand so it was palm up. And placed the tracking fob and the puck in them. He closed your fingers over them, his voice so soft that the modulator almost didn’t filter it through “Destroy them.”

You jerked in surprise, your breathing catching in shock, anger fizzling out of your body as quick as it had crashed into you, “What? Mando, this… the money it would get you... I can’t.” You tried to push it back to him, to get him to take it. It meant a lot to you, of course it did but he was being ridiculous. “I’m just your bounty.” You hadn’t meant to repeat it, it just slipped out. It wasn’t like it was a lie though. You were. Even though you doubted he had ever had his bounty save his life before.

You were surprised to hear a soft growl rumble in his throat, “Stop it.” He kept his gloved hand wrapped around yours, heat leeching through the leather and into your skin. “You were, in the beginning. But as soon as I heard that asshole talking like that about you…” He shook his head, swallowing his words yet again though they reminded honest, “You saved my life. That means something to me, especially in my culture. A lot of people would have left me there to die. But you didn’t… And I apologise for everything I’ve done. If you’ll forgive me and let me, I’d like to help you.”

Well. Fuck. That was the last thing you expected. He… wanted to help you? What did that mean? What could he do for you? You bit your lip, toying with the idea, staring down at the devices in your hand.

You’d been alone for so long. Maybe… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe you could… let him. But the way everyone seemed to die around you… you only had to look at tonight as proof enough.

He shouldn’t do this, it was a mistake.

You looked up, lips parting to form the words that would push him away, make him realise you were saving him from making a mistake.

Only for him to read you like a damn book again. He plucked the bounty puck and tracking fob from your hand, grasping them in his fist and then with a soft grunt, slammed them into the solid floor beneath you both. They instantly cracked, sputtering a little almost like shock and then completely shattered when he slammed his fist down on them again.

Mando made sure they were destroyed, then looked back at you and you could have sworn you could almost see the cocky eyebrow raise under the bucket on his head.

You surveyed him, looked down at the remains on the floor.

The symbol of hunter and prey destroyed.

You took in a deep breath, lifting your chin and meeting the beskar gaze of the man ahead of you, your threads of your lives somehow more entwined. “Okay. I accept your apology… and your help.”

Would he be the first person that didn’t succumb to your curse?

Previous chapter| Next chapter

#the mandalorian x force sensitive! reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x force sensitive! reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian #din djarin #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal #TW #Trigger warning

230 notes · View notes

pleathewrites · 3 years

Text

Candles in the Sun

chapter 1: the one who drives all evil away

When Ryomen Sukuna was born, the ground shook.

A weeping mother cradles her baby in her weak arms. The sweat cools off her skin with the gusts of rain-scented wind pushing past an open window. Her baby’s heart beats - she can feel it through the pads of her fingers - and she sighs.

Her eyes do not betray her.

She looks at her child and begs the Gods for mercy to be given - for this world to treat her child as kindly as she vows to because she cannot feel anything but infinite gratitude as her baby looks up at her with bright, red eyes.

Both sets.

Her child has been born with a gift - the blessing of 4 eyes and 4 arms.

When Itadori Yuuji is born, his first breath matches the last of his mother’s.

A weeping father holds his daughter’s baby to his chest and begs for the Gods to bring her back.

His prayers are futile, as his daughter’s unblinking eyes remain downward towards her belly, awaiting the arrival of a child she never got the chance to hold.

With the tips of his fingers, using the gentlest pressure, he lowers his daughter’s eyelids and lets her rest.

Her baby cries.

He prays for the strength to give this child the same love and protection he had for his own. He feels the ache in his chest, lungs rattling with every inhale.

He begs his body not to give up on him.

It’s an odd feeling, Sukuna’s mouth stretching over his cheek.

He was in the middle of packing up the extra things that had been left behind in his move to Jujutsu High when he had stumbled across the frame that had used to stand upright on his grandfather’s dresser.

“Oh, is that a baby picture? Let me see,” Yuuji feels the words before he hears them.

His knee-jerk reaction is usually to deny the curse, for whatever he’s asking.

“What, no -”

“Let me see or I won’t leave you alone this whole day,” The King of Curses demands, rather childishly.

Yuuji sometimes forgets this guy is supposed to be a thousand years old.

He stares at the picture between his fingers. It’s a capture of one of his earliest memories, a blurry thing that Yuuji only really has random flashes of. He doesn’t remember what the occasion was, but he remembers the exhibit of huge dinosaur fossils and the vibrant green of grass against a rough picnic blanket. He doesn’t remember what they ate for that lunch, but he remembers his grandfather asking an elderly to take a picture of them in front of the museum entrance.

This maybe-five-year-old Yuuji has his mouth open in laughter while his grandfather swings him up to sit on the concrete pillar of a staircase.

His heart mourns.

Sukuna starts to let out whining noises that pull irritatingly at the skin under Yuuji’s eyes. Yuuji grumbles and holds the photo up for the curse’s eye to see.

Sukuna lets out a coo, “You were so cute. Fat,” and just when Yuuji feels the side of his lips tilt up in a smile at the comment, Sukuna continues, “You’re so ugly now.”

Yuuji squawks, “Fuck you!” and slaps his hand over the offending mouth.

The sting against his cheek lingers, though the curse does not.

Sukuna is five years old the first time he levitates.

The boy had stomped into his house with muddy shoes, and his mother had asked him to take a bath. He said he didn’t want to. She told him to take one anyways.

He screamed.

And the next thing they both knew, he was 5 feet above the ground, his feet dangling uselessly beneath him, and the tips of his shoulder-length hair brushing the ceiling of their home.

He sees his mother’s eyes widen, and his own breath stutters in the childish fear that maybe he’s doing something bad, and just when he’s about to try and return to the ground, the expression on his mother’s face changes.

She’s laughing.

The first laugh is blurted shock, the second disbelief, and the rest are consistent peals of happy - proud - laughter.

On that day onward, Sukuna’s mother discovered her son’s curse energy bleeds into his temper tantrums.

Fushiguro Megumi makes Yuuji’s soul wiggle, Sukuna observes.

The first time Sukuna notices, they’re in an abandoned school and the brat is about to get himself killed by a Special Grade curse that Sukuna could pulverize with a flick of his finger.

He tells Yuuji as so, tells the boy that he could easily help him out, but that he won’t hesitate to kill anyone who gets in the way.

Sukuna’s no hero, after all.

When Itadori Yuuji tells Fushiguro Megumi to run away, the energy of Yuuji’s soul seeps into Sukuna’s domain and messes with the physics of the place - and for a split second, Sukuna feels breathless.

Sukuna smiles, ‘Could it be?’

After defeating the Special Grade, Sukuna decides to test something out.

He beats Megumi within an inch of his life, and when he has the boy’s full attention, he rips Itadori Yuuji’s heart straight out of his chest.

Megumi's soul cries.

Sukuna lets out a manic laugh, ‘So it’s true.’

His plan will succeed.

However, when Megumi begins to speak, he foolishly speaks directly to Yuuji about why he had saved him and Sukuna feels the same watery jolt of the brat’s soul and he is immediately sucked back into his Innate Domain.

Sukuna burrows further into his cloak as he rummages through the village market.

He huffs.

He hates the townspeople. They always gasp at the sight of his arms and chase him away with their brooms.

But his mother grows weaker every harvest, and the walk from the mountain to the village center takes her nearly half a sun cycle, whereas Sukuna can make the trip in a third of that time.

He tries to recall what was written on his mother’s list when he’s pushed roughly from behind, a gust of wind and scrape of cotton breezing through his side. When he regains his balance, he opens his mouth to yell in complaint only to stop when he notices the person who pushed him is another kid, perhaps around his age, sprinting.

He looks behind him to see an older man - horribly familiar, especially with that stick of his - running toward the kid’s direction.

Sukuna sends a small wave of curse energy aimed at the man’s feet and trips him.

When the man falls flat on his face, Sukuna hurries in the direction of where the kid had run.

It only takes him a few seconds to locate the other kid.

One glance around the area with his four eyes confirms their privacy. Sukuna brings two hands to cup near his mouth and yells, “Hey!”

The kid freezes, at both Sukuna’s voice and the fact that they were running into a dead end.

They turn around, and Sukuna swears his chest rattles.

Stone green eyes shine back at him.

Sukuna swallows, “I know a place you can hide, but we have to go now. That old man won’t stay down for too long.”

The kid nods quickly, and Sukuna leads them through several back alleys of the town until they reach a rundown temple on the outside edge of the village. The two climb up jagged rocks that stick out the sides of the temple, and they don’t stop until they reach the highest floor, climbing through the window into the building.

The kid slides down the wall and tips their head back, swallowing the much-needed air back into their lungs.

When their chest stops heaving, they turn their head towards Sukuna and narrow their eyes at him. Their voice cracks when they ask, “Why did you help me?”

“Why were you being chased by the tomato vendor?” Sukuna counters.

Their lips close and tighten in frustration.

A gust of wind pushes through the temple’s window and knocks back the hood of Sukuna’s cloak, revealing the face he forgot he was hiding.

Emerald eyes widen.

Sukuna’s heart jumps to his throat. He knows he should run, but he’s frozen in place, waiting for a reaction. He can’t help it - his mother told him, time and time again, to never care what other people think of him, and, usually, he listens, but something is rooting him down in his place, faint and inaudible whispers behind his ears, telling him to, ‘Wait.’

“So, you are the boy,” are the next words breathed into the air.

Sukuna doesn’t know how to respond. He both knows and doesn’t know what this other kid is talking about - yes, he is the village monster, but the words, ‘the boy,’ have never been uttered like that.

Like sanctity.

“My mother used to speak of you,” the other continues, using their hands and knees to crawl closer, and closer, until they are close enough to block out the evening sun from Sukuna’s view, “But, we thought you were a myth. In the past ten harvests, she’s never seen you, but she always stayed firm. How odd, that only a year after that she - that I…” they leave off, and Sukuna doesn’t even notice the hand inching towards his face until they stop themselves, their shadow-tinted hand hovering in the air.

He startles backward, head thumping painfully on the stone wall.

The kid retracts quickly, “I’m sorry!”

Sukuna rubs his throbbing head, and the motion lifts his cloak, revealing the second arm that rests beneath his primary, “I-It’s ok,” He tells them, watching the way their eyes stare at the two arms on his left side with something that looks like wonder. He continues after another moment of silence, “What - uhm, I mean… What did your mother…?” He doesn’t know how to ask.

When the child looks back up, kind emerald eyes greet him, “A blessed child, birthed eleven harvests ago. Born with a soul four times as bright.”

Sukuna gasps.

(“Why do I look like this, Mama?”

His mother pauses, before setting her threaded needle on the table. She beckons her son with an outstretched arm, and he follows all the way up to her lap. She smiles warmly as Sukuna repositions himself atop her knee to face her. He waits.

“Sukuna, my boy… You are blessed. A child born with a soul four times as bright.”

The ruddy pink of his eyebrows furrow, “... four... times?”

His mother nods and thumbs under his lower left eye, “Four eyes,” the same hand slides down in a quick movement, and when her fingers wriggle into Sukuna's side, he shrieks in laughter, the sight causing his mother to let out a few giggles of her own, “and four arms!”

“M-Mama, s-stop it!”

Her hand stills and she presses a kiss to the crown of her son’s head.

“A soul brighter than four souls put together.”)

The child assumes his surprise to be fear and reaches out to hold the hand of his lower arm.

“Do not worry, I will not hurt you, or decieve you. I… I would like to be your ally.”

Sukuna thinks he would like that, as well.

“What is your name?” He asks. His mother told him once that he could, ‘obtain a glimpse of a person’s soul by the way they wear their name.’

The child beams, a missing tooth mirroring the one he had lost himself earlier that year, “Chiyoko! You can call me Chiyo, though. I think it’s cute.”

Sukuna thinks so, too.

“My name is Sukuna.”

SUKU - NA: The one who drives evil away.

CLICK TO READ REST OF CHAPTER

51 notes · View notes

7wanderingpaws · 3 years

Text

Mess We Made - fourth/last (m)

(gif not mine)

Pairing: Baekhyun x reader

Genre: arranged marriage au (not bbh), doctor AU, angst, fluff

Words: 7.5K

WARNINGS: language, mentions of blood, mature content, cheating (not bbh)

Quick A/N: Hiii! Im gonna hide... Ive never written sth like this omg. (pls let me know your thoughts). This is the final part so I feel accomplished I wrote such long chapters in such a short time ><

tags: @byunfirstlady @blackon @puppyeoliepop @in3vitably3v3 @mangobaek @bobohumyonlyboo @wooya1224 @exortedgoods @gureuma (if you want to be tagged/untagged please reply to this post)

parts: first – second – third -- fourth (last)

masterlist

Mess We Made, last part

“What the hell did you think you were doing in the hospital?” you attacked him as soon as you arrived home after two days.

Frankly Minheob didn’t come to visit you anymore although you overheard some nurses gossiping that he went several times to the doctor’s office and had a chat with doctor Kim. As much as you wished to know why he would go the great lengths to try to tie you down, you also couldn’t care less as long as he didn’t come and see you.

Minheob frowned at you as he watched you cradle Hayeon. “Do you think I don’t know?”

“Don’t know what?”

He stepped closer to you and you wanted to move backwards but the baby’s crib was behind you, successfully caging you in. He grinned nastily. “Well, you really are so clueless. As soon as I found out your lover is also in that hospital, I rushed in to get you. You doing miscarriage and daring to cheat on me at the same time?” He scoffed. “That is unheard of.”

Your heart rate sped up at his words. There was no way you cheated on him. Baekhyun did come several times to check up on you, sometimes you even swore he was there while you were sleeping and felt something soft brushing your cheek, but you never did anything more than what a doctor and a patient would do. Did Minheob know about Baekhyun? If he did then how did he find out?

Minheob laughed out loud at your shocked expression, and reached out to caress Hayeon’s hair but you moved her away from his touch. “She is my daughter too, you know.”

“How dare you accuse me of cheating on you,” you muttered sternly, trying to keep your voice down so as not to trigger the baby.

“Well, then let me put you into perspective because the past year you’ve been amazingly oblivious.” He made a dramatic pause and you almost lost all your wits. He took a deep breath and like a snake, licked his lips in mischief. “How many times have you moaned his name when you were coming, huh?” he whispered, carefully watching you from up close. “How many times have you thought it was him instead of me? You were so full of him while in bed with me... What made you ever think I wouldn’t find out that you still kept in touch with him?”

Blood drained from your face and you knew you were done for. And Baekhyun too. Your stupid mistake would bring him into this huge mess that you created again.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you dared to lie through gritted teeth and hugged your baby even tighter. “Nor do I care what your twisted mind came up with, Minheob.”

He laughed, stepping away from you. “So this is the way you want to act? I will gladly moan out his name for you, maybe then you would remember?” he asked with a low tone.

You started walking towards the kitchen, deciding to mix the baby formula so that Hayeon could eat. You were not breastfeeding her, you only did so for two weeks before you gave up. Your breasts took too long to bring out the milk and even if they did, it was bloody. Another reason to be miserable. You couldn’t even feed your child.

“Stop pretending you didn’t hear me,” snickered your husband and grabbed your wrist, yanking you back to him.

You gasped, holding Hayeon tighter. “I didn’t cheat on you!”

“I don’t give a fuck whether you did or not! You just stayed in hospital for two days for nothing because he wanted you there!”

When you opened your mouth to retort something, he muttered: “Baekhyun wanted to keep you there for himself, didn’t he? Good way to make use of you,” he snarled. “A woman that lost her child. He could still fuck you over-“

Your hand flew out before you could think twice, landing a stinking slap on Minheob’s face. “Get him out of your filthy mouth,” you muttered lowly, sending him death glares. Minheob was shocked just for a moment before he was about to rebuke, but you beat him to it: “Baekhyun has nothing to do with me. Stop blaming innocent people-“

“I cannot believe you had me fooled! I had his best friend stalked to make sure he wouldn’t make moves on you, the Park Chanyeol kid, and then it was the fucking doctor the whole time!” he shouted but you didn’t flinch, only proudly noted how his cheek was becoming redder with each passing second.

“I never fooled you,” you answered, “it’s you who does the dirty job. Leave Baekhyun alone.”

“I can see how angry you are becoming. Protecting your secret lover.”

“He is not my secret lover.”

“I can see the way you are looking at me right now. You hate even the idea of me saying his name, don’t you? You hate your entire family for making you marry me when you could have him-“

“Enough.”

“But you’re stuck with me and he will most probably find another woman-“

“I said enough!” you screamed loudly, successfully making Hayeon cry in your arms while your husband had a victorious smile on his face. He paused for a moment and pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Turning away from you, he said: “Good luck taking care of that weeping machine. It’s annoying. I’ll be out.”

When you heard the door slam, you felt your cheeks burning up with anger while the tears you didn’t know you were keeping in, spilled. Quickly shushing Hayeon, you went over to grab the formula as you originally wanted to, while sniffing.

“C‘mon, Hayeon, don’t cry,” you tried gently but she was relentless.

You didn’t want her to be scarred by the toxic relationship you had with her father. Everyday you tried your best to be good for her and make her happy so that she would grow up well. But having Minheob breathing down your neck was making it hard.

It was almost one hour later, Hayeon still slowly sucking on the milk from her bottle while you had the big TV turned on with a comedy show when the doorbell rang.

Sighing tiredly, you walked over to the intercom to check the camera, and your heartbeat sped up when you noticed Baekhyun’s profile as he was waiting for you to let him in.

What the hell was he doing here? He shouldn’t be here!

Despite your racing thoughts, you let him in and walked over to the doors with Hayeon in your arms. She was tapping on your chest with her small hands as she was looking at you with huge eyes.

You were cooing to her softly, hoping it would ease your nerves. And it did. You didn’t hear Baekhyun approaching, only realizing his presence when he was two meters from you, casually leaning his shoulder against the wall, his arms pushed in his dark-blue jeans, and observing you with a warm, gentle smile. It made your heart skip a beat.

“Baekhyun,” you breathed and he lazily stretched his lips before walking over to you, standing a tad too close as he was looking down at your daughter.

“Being a mother really suits you,” he murmured softly, looking up to catch you staring.

Quickly recovering, you blurted: “You shouldn’t be here, Baek. I’m not sure when my husband will be back-“

“He won’t be coming for a while, don’t worry,” he replied calmly.

You frowned. “Did he go after you?” Just the idea made you dizzy with worry.

Baekhyun chuckled, taking in your expression. “No, but he is with doctor Kim.”

You frowned.

“Won’t you let me in?”

“Ah, right,” you stammered and moved aside, letting him in. You weren’t sure you wanted him to see the place you’d been living in with another man that wasn’t him. Baekhyun looked out of place as you followed him to the spacious living room. “Please, sit down. What can I get you?”

He did as you asked and looked at you with expectant eyes. He smiled sheepishly. “This is probably too much but… do you maybe have wine?”

“I do but… aren’t you driving?”

“My brother will come and pick me up. He is nearby doing some business.”

You nodded. “I’ll have a glass with you, too. Just let me put her-“

“I can hold her,” he offered smoothly which made you stop. “Only if you don’t mind. I’ve held quite a few babies,” he grinned proudly.

Smiling, you gladly handed him Hayeon and gave him her little bottle. You realized you were too close because when you glanced up, Baekhyun’s nose almost brushed yours. Pulling away, you turned to go when he asked: “Aren’t you breastfeeding? You shouldn’t drink.”

Preparing two wine glasses, you told him you weren’t. He was silent and when you came out with the glasses and two kinds of bottles he looked up at you holding the options up for him.

“Red,” he said with a smile.

You nodded and poured the both of you a glass and faced him. Humming, you noted: “Being with a baby suits you.”

He smiled knowingly. “Oh, yeah? Well… this one looks a lot like you, to be honest.” He gave a loving caress to Hayeon’s head and you felt your heart squeezing painfully.

“Luckily.” You cleared your throat. “What brings you here?”

Baekhyun cooed at Hayeon a little bit longer before he murmured, catching your eyes. “I was worried… he would do something to you.”

“But you never cared before.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

You bit your lip. “Why is he with doctor Kim again?”

Baekhyun pressed his lips for a moment, thinking over your question. “He is…” he let out a perplexed laugh, as if unsure what to say, “I don’t know how to put it in words.”

Baekhyun earned your full attention now. “What do you mean?”

“He is in love with doctor Kim.”

Your mouth fell open, the news catching you off guard. “H-he what?”

“Shh,” he shushed gently like he always did with you, and nodded towards Hayeon who was drifting off to sleep in his arms. Your heart squeezed painfully once again, the sight was bittersweet. Your child in his arms. “I found out today too. He had been visiting her for a long time. Turns out they have known each other since high school.”

That sounded awfully familiar. “And now he is trying to get her?”

Baekhyun shrugged once and looked down at Hayeon, her eyes peacefully closed but still diligently sucking on the last droplets of milk. “Maybe?”

“And here I thought he went there to stalk me.”

He turned his head towards you. “Does it matter whether he actually wants doctor Kim?” he asked quietly, the unvoiced actual question palpable in his voice. Do you love your husband enough to be hurt that he wants another woman?

“I feel sorry for her,” was your blunt answer. “But if that means he will change I wish he would ditch me.” You looked Baekhyun in the eyes. “I’ve been wanting this whole nightmare to end for two years, Baekhyun. Two years of being completely helpless, not even able to see you properly. I want him to ditch me and I want to be with you.”

He was listening to you carefully, his eyes sometimes drifting to your lips and the way they shaped when you pronounced some words. “If I told you I have someone else…”

Within seconds your eyes burned up in despair. “No, you don’t.”

Without an answer, he was looking at you; observing the way your cheeks became red along with your nose while your eyes were full of unshed tears. You were so beautiful even after miscarriage. You were ethereal in his eyes even though he just made you cry. Now that Baekhyun thought about it, he didn't remember the last time he saw a genuine smile on your face; it was always either a tired, insincere smile or crying. If he only saw you like that, how many times must have you cried when he wasn't there?

“Please don’t tell me you have someone else,” you whispered when he wouldn't answer.

“It's only natural I would find someone else,” he reasoned matter-of-factly but in a gentle tone so as not to upset you.

“And you came here to tell me this?”

Baekhyun was helpless. He knew your jealousy could be blinding, but he thought with time it would simmer down. “I didn't come here to talk about my private life-”

You snorted sarcastically. “Right. Your private life is how we call it now?” You reached out for sleeping Hayeon and took her into your arms. Without a word you walked to the bedroom. In case you would become even more emotional, you didn't want her to wake. You heard Baekhyun shuffling after you, a conflicting gaze following your every more.

He waited by the door, silently watching you putting Hayeon into her crib. With teary eyes, you observed your daughter a little longer, thinking how wrong everything was at that moment before facing your guest.

Baekhyun didn't move when you closed the door behind you, instead he took hold of your wrist to make you look at him. “I'm sorry. It all came out so wrong.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” you said evenly. “It's your private life and it's none of my business. Which means you may go. Now that you made sure I wasn't dying on the bedroom floor - because you really care about my well-being - it's time to leave.”

Baekyhun was slowly losing his patience. “Stop acting so freaking stubborn.”

More tears welled up in your eyes. “You are right. So leave. I want to be alone.”

He sighed when you tried to push his hand away. “Sweethea-” he stopped himself, biting quickly into his lower lip. Your heartbeat sped up but then he murmured your name softly and you deflated again. “I didn't mean I'm in a relationship.”

“Then what did you mean?” you pressed.

“I was with other women while I wasn't with you. That's all,” he replied truthfully. “I haven't been in a relationship ever since you left me.”

“But you slept with other women,” you finished.

He nodded, staring into your eyes with pure honesty. He had his heart on his sleeve for you, and you still couldn't help the boiling feelings of betrayal. Maybe it was because you were still recovering from the happenings of the past three days or maybe it was just the way you would always feel when Baekhyun was with another woman, be it romantically or purely physically.

“I still don't get why you are telling me this. I still don't understand why you had to come here now, out of all the times.”

“I want you back,” he whispered. “Even though it is impossible, I want you back. With everything you are.” Your breath hitched in your throat and your heart restarted its wild beating. “It's so fucking difficult to keep my hands off of you, to not touch you, to not be there for you when I know you don't have anyone else to turn to and share your burdens with. I know your asshole of a husband mistreats you with your entire family helping him out. I'm tired of it and if it means going against all the rules, then so be it.”

Hope was making your eyes come alive, he could see it. Even though they were teary, hope sparked through and Baekhyun felt relieved.

“Are you doing this now because you know Minheob has feelings for another woman?”

He was shocked. “W-what? No, it isn't about it-”

“Yes, you are,” you said, not even listening to him, “you wouldn't have come here if my husband wouldn't be seeing doctor Kim right now. Otherwise-”

“No, wait, listen to me-”

“You wouldn't fight for me if it weren't for-”

He murmured your name in warning. “Listen-”

“I can't believe you-”

“For Christ's sake just listen-”

“Make me.”

Baekhyun was furious. Both of you were staring down each other, both of you hurt and desperate. “Make me listen, Baekhyun,” you said again with a steely voice and he grabbed your face and crashed his lips on yours. You let out a moan, his lips so soft against yours despite the kiss being anything but soft. He cradled your face and you didn't waste time in bringing your arms around his neck, bringing him closer. You heard Baekhyun inhale sharply as he sucked on your lower lip before licking it, asking for entrance. He growled when you complied but would fight him for dominance. It was a game of push and pull and he pressed you against the wall next to the bedroom door; the room which you shared with someone that wasn't Baekhyun.

It was thrilling, exciting and you wanted more. Baekhyun tasted much sweeter than you could remember and there wasn't a chance that you'd get enough. When it came to him, it was never enough for you. Thirstily, you pressed your middle to his, causing him to grunt while he sucked on your tongue, his hands on your neck to angle your face for him. You could feel your lips were already swollen but you didn't care. Your hands were buried in his hair, messing it up, pulling on it as you wanted more. More, more, more. You wanted him to devour you, to take you and to never return you.

But it was still Baekhyun. This was unfair to him. And so he was the first one to disattach, pulling away from you slightly to press his forehead against yours while the both of you were panting. You looked at his lips, the way the skin around them was turning a gentle pink, his lips particularly red. God, you loved those lips and how cutely they were shaped.

He caressed your jaw with his thumb, bringing your attention up to his droopy eyes. “I love you,” he confessed.

Your throat went dry for a second. It was like reliving all your happy memories with him all over again. “I love you, too, Baekhyun,” you replied, making sure you were staring into his eyes.

A soft smile spread on his face and he leaned in to kiss you again but stopped just before his lower lip could touch your upper one. “We shouldn't do this, though. You are married, have a baby and it's not right.”

“You already kissed me,” you urged him, not sparing even a heartbeat to think about his words, “it won't make a difference if you do it one more time.” You raised yourself on your tiptoes and kissed him before he could retaliate. He moaned so subtly it almost made your knees buckle. His hands travelled souther, caressing your shoulders before they went to your back where he drew sensual circles, making you feel all sorts of inappropriate things. You dared to bring your hands to the hem of his shirt that was tucked into his jeans and pull it out, wanting to feel his skin under. He let out another moan when he felt your fingertips trailing the outline of his abs- wait, abs?

You pulled away. “Since when are you so ripped?” you breathed which made him chuckle. You lifted his shirt slightly to see that he had a freaking six-pack. Your mouth went agape, but you still felt Baekhyun's hand on the sliver of skin that showed between your jeans and shirt. He didn't dare to go further than that, though.

“Where else can I use my frustrations if not in the gym, hm,” he murmured in a low voice that made your insides squeeze with want.

You rested your head against the wall, looking at him with content. “I caused it all. I'm sorry.”

He sighed and stepped closer, one leg between yours as he cradled your cheek. “I knew from the start it would go like this, you know. Don't apologize.”

“I'm still sorry 'cause I never should have made you go through the things that me and my terrible family did.” You paused for a moment. “Let's start over, together,” you suggested eagerly. “Let's run away.”

Baekhyun took a deep breath. “You know that isn't possible, love.”

“It is,” you insisted, “of course it is. Let's just disappear and not let anyone know.”

“I have to make a living. And I love my job. You need to take care of your daughter as well.”

“So is that a no? Even if I get a divorce and a chance to start over… is that a no?” you asked quietly.

“Look, doctor Kim knows about us. She knows about our relationship because I couldn't focus whenever I knew you were in the clinic. My behavior gave me away and she is a great senior that understood me well. She was the one to tell me to come here and she called your husband over. I'm sure she is lecturing him.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, running his thumb over the naked skin of your hip. “I'm sure with time, we can slowly start over again, hm?” he prompted gently, tapping your skin a few times. “Time is all we need.”

“I have to wait more to have you?” You were being greedy. You knew you were. But you couldn't help yourself.

“We waited a long time for each other,” he breathed, “we can wait a little longer. Doctor Kim will help us.”

“Then kiss me one last time. To seal it,” you demanded. “As a promise that you will come back to me, Baekhyun.”

And Baekhyun did.

///

It had been weeks now that you found out about Minheob having feelings for the kind doctor Kim. You weren't sure if it was because you were aware of it, but Minheob seemed to become less interested in you overall. He didn't call you when you were busy with the shop, he didn't care if you came home a little later, and not once mentioned Baekhyun to you anymore. It was almost as if that argument never happened.

Even though that seemed to get better, you were still sour because Baekhyun kept the contact between you two quite limited even though he said he wanted you. Sometimes you would exchange texts, because you couldn't keep still; your need to know what he was doing, how he was doing and where he was, was stronger.

It could have been frustrating and maybe now you got a taste of how he must have been feeling the entire time after your break-up. You expecting him to be alone and wait for something to happen was so greedy it made you feel embarrassed. Of course he would have found a woman for pleasure.

You weren't disappointed; hurt maybe because you despised any idea of him being with another woman. After all, you wanted to be the only one to know how he was like in bed, how he would treat a woman after the love-making was done.

You groaned gently, the intruding thoughts not doing you any good. Plus, you were on your period. Maybe you shouldn't have thought about it too much. He confirmed he still loved you and that was all that mattered.

It was almost four months later, your relationship and communication with Minheob almost non-existent and Hayeon a curious toddler, when Minheob said a sentence you never thought you would hear:

“I want a divorce.”

You swiveled around from where you were sitting on the carpeted floor, watching over Hayeon while your tablet was sitting in your lap, going through the new lingerie sets that were supposed to arrive anytime soon. With it, finally, the “unlock, bbh” one as well.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he sighed, sitting on the sofa, emotionlessly looking at an ever-bright Hayeon. “I want to divorce you.”

You were silent, carefully thinking over what to reply next. Maybe you didn't seem as shocked to him as he would have expected you to, but he didn't care at that point.

“I am with another woman. And I want to become a better person for her.”

“I see…”

He rolled his eyes. “At least pretend like you're shocked.” “I am, Minheob. You never told me you are seeing someone else.”

“Just like you never told me you are cheating on me with that doctor of yours.”

“I never-” you started, offended, but all too quickly you remembered kissing Baekhyun in that very house. Minheob couldn't have known about that, though. “I didn't cheat on you. Not like that.”

He let out a dishonest laugh and looked away. “Either way, it doesn't matter anymore. I want it to be as soon as possible.”

“What about Hayeon? She is your daughter.” Minheob didn't care about Hayeon, you knew it. He barely ever tried to initiate anything with her, let alone ask if the baby was doing well.

“Yeah,” he rolled his eyes, “you couldn't even give me a boy. It had to be a daughter.”

You puckered your lips, trying hard not to pick a fight. “I'm sick and tired of you being a misogynistic prick,” you told him in a calm voice. “She is a healthy child and you should be fucking thankful.” You turned to look at Hayeon who was playing with huge baby-safe lego pieces. “I will raise her to become much more badass than any man ever will.”

“Sure, you will.” He was silent for a while. “I will try better. I will take care of my part on her behalf, of course. And the matter with your family - they are all to stay just as usual.”

Not turning to look at him, you hummed. “Good way to become a better person, Minheob.”

“I'll deal with all the paperwork. Let's get everything settled by next week. Since we both agree on divorce.”

Sudden eagerness ignited your hope to be with Baekhyun much earlier than you anticipated. Just the idea of it made you feel elevated.

“And about this house…”

You turned your head to look at your soon-to-be ex-husband. “I will leave with Hayeon, don't worry.”

“Good.”

///

You headed to Baekhyun's that evening. Packing up the baby bag for Hayeon, you put her in the baby carrier basket once you arrived. You knew his new address but not once you visited. Having Minheob as a husband had its perks after all; you could easily look into the employees' personal records.

Baekhyun lived in an upscale apartment building, typical for families that had money. It made you realize just how much he developed professionally.

Shushing Hayeon, you waited for Baekhyun to open the door and when he did, he still looked surprised, even after letting you in through the intercom. “Hi,” you smiled, “I came to talk.”

Baekhyun took you in, noting the sleeping toddler. “Sure, come in,” he said quietly, not wanting to disturb the sleeping child.

“Sorry for coming unannounced,” you muttered sheepishly, admiring the way he looked in simple grey joggers and a white shirt.

Baekhyun stopped you from going further into his apartment. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“No,” you smiled softly, “I have some good news.”

Sitting close to each other, you talked for about two hours; about your future. About the current situation and about the way it all evolved. Baekhyun was surprised but you were relieved when you saw his eyes light up with the same hope that it did with yours. For amoment you were worried he wouldn't reciprocate the excitement but when he almost ducked to kiss you, you knew he still felt the same.

Your faces were so close, you could feel his breath on your cheek. “I was thinking about looking for an apartment…” you trailed off. “Maybe somewhere close to yours?”

“Silly,” sighed Baekhyun affectionately, “you'll come straight to my place.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you eyed his lips. “Are you sure? I will have Hayeon with me,” you admitted, not wanting to sound as sad as you actually felt. It made you sound like a bad mother and maybe just a little bit, you were. Hayeon was such a delight of a child, but she was Minheob's. Baekhyun didn't have anything to do with her and even though you loved her, it also made you mad that you didn't have a child with Baekhyun.

“You know I never had anything against Hayeon. She is innocent and too young. She is barely one, sweetheart. She is your child, how can I not love her?”

Baekhyun's words made your eyes snap up to meet his tender ones.

Slowly he lifted his hand, cradling your cheek. “She looks a lot like you, you know?”

You closed your eyes. “You already told me.”

“And I'm saying it again. She is gorgeous. I bet she will grow up into a beautiful lady just like her mother.”

You smiled, shaking your head gently as to not let his hand fall. “Will you help me raise her into a good and loving child?”

“Of course,” he breathed, his thumb wandering to your lower lip. “We will raise her together.”

Your smile grew wider, now opening your eyes. “I love you so much, Baekhyun. You really have no idea how perfect you are, do you?”

He smiled and leaned in, nudging your nose with his. “I would do anything just to see you smile like that again. I want to keep that smile on your face forever, baby.”

Electricity cursed through your veins. You leaned in, wanting to finally overcome the teasing distance between your lips but Baekhyun stopped you. “Hayeon is sleeping here.”

“She will sleep for a while now. She always sleeps the best after a car ride,” you muttered, still eyeing Baekhyun's lips.

He hummed, acknowledging your words. Then he grabbed your hand gently, intertwining your hands and made you stand up. Eagerly, you followed him to his bedroom and once he closed the door, you stared at each other for a moment before the both of you leaned in at the same time. Kissing each other passionately, he walked you towards his bed and sat down, making you straddle him.

You whimpered at the feel of his wandering hands. “You don't mind kissing me now?” you asked, wanting to be sure you weren't doing something that made him feel uncomfortable.

Baekhyun was looking up at you with huge eyes full of lust and love. The raw crave in his eyes was undeniable and it turned you on. “No. I should have just stolen you a long time ago.”

You giggled but he silenced you with another mind-blowing kiss. Letting him touch you everywhere, you found yourself needing air quickly and Baekhyun moved to your cheek, jaw and neck, sucking gently on the sensitive skin. Your hands were messing up his before they found the way to his shirt, once again wanting to feel up his abs that contracted under your touch.

“I missed you so much,” groaned Baekhyun when he squeezed your backside as he licked your collarbones before biting. You hissed, but he didn’t stop.

“I missed you much more,” you breathed, closing your eyes in pleasure. “You have no idea how much.”

He hummed and grabbed the v-line of your shirt, yanking it down to show your bra. Hungrily, he attached his lips to the swell of your breast and you moaned loudly, burying your hand in his hair. “I missed these, too,” he muttered, making you chuckle.

When his other hand wandered south to your jeans, you grabbed his hand in alarm.

“B-Baekhyun, I’m on my period,” you breathed shakily, your arousal growing with each touch of his. Because of your stupid monthly issue you wouldn’t be able to enjoy Baekhyun but to your utter shock, he muttered:

“I don’t care.” With that, he hoisted you up in his arms, making you let out a silent squeal as he smiled and brought you to his private bathroom. “Unless you mind,” he added warily.

“No,” you shook your head quickly. “I crave you too much to care.”

The doors closed shut and you were pushed against them, his middle pressed to yours causing you to let out a wanton moan. He wasn’t even inside you but you felt like a bone shattering orgasm was on its way already.

“Fuck, I missed you so much,” he whispered urgently as he sucked on your neck, his other hand supporting you on your backside, and the other wandering inside your shirt.

Your hand was in his hair, grabbing on it, pushing his head into your chest needily. “Jesus, Baek, I need you. No teasing, god.”

This would be a first time for the both of you to be intimate while you were bleeding. As much as it was a little off-putting, neither of you built up the boundaries that seemed to be nonexistent in your relationship.

He grunted as he brought you to the shower stall and gently put you down on your wobbly legs. You were already taking off your shirt and jeans and he was mimicking you, desperate to finally feel each other’s skin. When the both of you were naked, Baekhyun stepped closer to you and reached behind you to turn on the shower.

The first wave had cold water which made you squeal and jump, attacking and hugging Baekhyun to yourself who caught you with a handsome laugh.

“I’ll make you all hot and bothered very soon, princess,” he murmured in your ear, his nose pressed to your hair as you felt his hand caress you over your stomach before he let it slide to your womanhood.

“Baek-“ you started quickly, sudden anxiety eating you away because you were bleeding.

“Shh, no words,” he said and brought his face back to yours, diving in to bite your lower lip. “Just our bodies talking.”

“But-“

“I said,” he pressed and just then he spread your womanhood, his middle finger teasing your lips and the sensitive bud before he quickly let it dive into your hole. Your knees buckled at the sensation and Baekhyun was fast to press you against the wall, letting the water wash away your blood and arousal from his hand.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he grumbled and pushed two fingers inside of you, humming when he watched you open your mouth in an airy moan, your eyes closed in pure ecstasy.

You were panting heavily and when you opened your eyes to look at your lover, you felt like your chest would combust with repressed emotions. You grabbed the back of his head and smashed your lips together, bringing out another pleasurable moan from Baekhyun. The vibration of his chest rang against yours, connecting two wildly beating hearts.

He scissored his fingers inside you, pumped you slowly, in and out, making sure you were well stretched out.

A whimper was what made Baekhyun pull away from the heated kiss. “Do you think you’re ready for me?” he asked in a low voice, his eyes full of affection, desire and lust.

You nodded eagerly. “Yes, yes, just get on with it.”

You reached for his member that had stood up proud in the meantime, keeping close eye contact with his owner. “Since we are doing it while I’m on my period, I can feel all of you,” you breathed as you stood on your tiptoes to kiss him again while you wrapped your hand around his shaft, spreading the pre-cum over the tip with your thumb, closely checking your partner for any reaction. “You can come inside of me.”

Baekhyun hissed and followed with a deep groan as his arm slid around your waist bringing you to him so he could rest his head in your neck. He left open-mouthed kisses lazily on your skin and he squeezed your body when you played with his balls. “Fuck!”

Without warning, he pushed your hand away. “Do you trust me?” he asked, his hands already trailing down your sides, his member pressed to your stomach.

“Always.”

“Then jump for me,” he whispered passionately and was fast to catch you, your legs around his waist and your center just on his manhood. “I will fuck your brains out.” He informed you and you could only plead for him to finally move on. And he did. With just his tip at your center had the both of you close your eyes and moan into each other’s mouths before he slowly pushed in.

“Ahh, yes,” you let out and wiggled in his grasp. Baekhyun hissed sharply biting your earlobe when he managed to slide almost all of him in. “Shit your slick.”

Both of you looked down to where you were connected to see the water wash away a chunk of blood. “Ready?” he asked gently. “Tell me immediately if somethings off.”

You smiled at him deliriously and nodded in confirmation.

Baekhyun started with a slow pace, his thrusts careful, making you feel every single inch of his member, every vein and plain. Being on your period made your womanhood extremely sensitive and aware of every single movement inside you which was the reason your forehead fell into his shoulder, a moan after moan leaving your mouth.

He took your passionate reaction as a yes to speed up, and he set a faster, stronger pace, sliding swiftly in and out of you, each fraction sending pleasurable waves through Baekhyun’s body.

“Fuck yes,” he groaned when he slammed harshly into you, aiming for your gspot, sliding you up the wet wall while you arched your back.

“Yes, Baekhyun, right there!” you screamed, the slight cramps in your lower abdomen wonderfully changing into a wave of ecstasy bringing you closer to the edge.

“I know my woman well,” he hissed, watching your erotic face expressions with hooded eyes as he gave you another powerful thrust. “Only I know all your secret spots.”

“Yes, yes,” you gasped and leaned in, pushing your tongue into his mouth, your teeth clinking in the process as his length kept filling you up, stretching you so well he was touching your cervix. You felt another chunk of blood releasing and Baekhyun panted, your walls starting to pulse around him, telling him you were close. He quickly fumbled with his hand and brought it to your lower lips, massaging sensually with long fingers while he pounded into you, chasing now his own release as well. The buildup was almost unbearable. Just the idea of him taking you would send him to another world and the fact that he truly had you in his arms, you wrapped around him inside and outside made him release spurts and spurts of cum, his panting coming out in high-pitched moans just when you started to milk him.

You screamed loudly and Baekhyun was mouthing at your breasts hungrily, just as he always did when he was releasing. He gave your nipple a bite as he turned his thrusts into lazy hip-rollings, helping the both of you ride out your highs.

The shower was still fully on but it did little to no help to block out the sexual pants both of you were heaving out.

You locked eyes with Baekhyun’s and caught him smiling in satisfaction. “Kiss me,” he muttered and you gladly leaned in, humming when he licked his way inside, meeting your tongue for a small battle for dominance. You pressed against him, pushing his tongue aside, wanting to win but he whimpered and bit you which made you withdraw with a hiss. You separated with a loud smack. “Cheater,” you whispered in disbelief, your lips red and swollen.

“Am I now?” quirked Baekhyun, flirting, and let you down slowly, slipping out of you. He cradled your face and kissed you innocently as if to make up for the ruined kiss, enjoying the touch of your lips as the water was mixing in.

“That was fucking amazing,” you told him in bliss, hugging his neck. You brought his ear close to your mouth. “Let’s do it again.”

“Nobody said we were done, princess.” Baekhyun had a shit-eating grin when he trailed his fingers up your sides and gently groped your breasts that made you sigh in pleasure right away. Your nipples were already hard and aching but his touch made you feel like you were levitating.

“You’re so damn sensitive. Who knew sex during your period would be this much fun? You are so responsive to every single touch of mine,” he murmured sexily as he let the tip of his nose trail your cheek, darting his tongue out to lick on your skin.

You were aroused yet again and begging for him to resolve this issue.

“You aren't leaving my house tonight,” he told you as he brought his head back to look into your eyes. “I'll take care of you.”

///

2 years later

Baekhyun squeezed your hand with a huge smile as you were both sitting on the ground opposite his parents while Hayeon was running around, playing in Baekhyun's childhood room. A room that held so many memories that were dear to you.

“Sweetie, eat a little bit more,” prompted Baekhyun's mother lovingly. “You are bearing a boy. You need to make sure he comes out all sturdy and ready to face this world.”

You giggled, as you caressed your baby bump, Baekhyun joining you.

“She is quite sensitive, mum. I don't want her to throw up everything afterwards,” commented Baekhyun.

He was right. As painless as Hayeon's pregnancy was, this little boy inside of you was making you nauseous 24/7. You found it quite ironic how your family wanted you to bring a boy into the family when you were with Minheob, yet now, when you were with Baekhyun, it was a boy. It was more exciting because Baekhyun did the ultrasound and finding out the gender of your baby had its own magic when he was the doctor.

The past two years, everything was so different yet the same. Living with Baekhyun was perfect despite typical arguments. He was understanding and you were trying to be okay with his busy schedules at the clinic.

Baekhyun wanted you to settle in properly in his house along with Hayeon before you would start a family with him. Being careful in bed was not the most fun for you, as you always wanted to feel everything he could offer, but once the both of you gave each other the green, your life became much more exciting. You were eager to get pregnant with Baekhyun's child. Finally, the old, rusty dreams you had as a teenage girl could come true.

After hearing some rustling, you stood up. “I'm gonna check up on Hayeon,” you said and strolled over to Baekhyun's bedroom. “Hayeon,” you muttered, seeing her going through some old biology books. You laughed. “Out of all the things in this room, this is what caught your attention?” you asked her, and walked over.

“Mama, look!” she pointed at some drawings Baekhyun had in the corner of the page.

“Oh, what is that,” you faked excitement and then you looked properly. Decoding Baekhyun's terrible scribbles, you gasped quietly.

hottest chickkk in the entire school >< and shes mine woow

love is not as bad as guys make it out to be

because i love herrr

“The hell is this?” you murmured, not even noticing Baekhyun standing behind you.

He laughed loudly and you looked up at him in question. “Well, what do you think it is? It's about you, silly,” he said and crouched, hugging you from behind. “Many guys were crazy about you, yet I got you.”

You snorted a laugh. “Sure, half of the school envied me and the other hated me for being who I am,” you said, looking at his side profile.

“Ah, look at you talking and talking instead of kissing your gorgeous husband,” muttered Baekhyun playfully, letting his hands slide over the baby bump. In response, you kissed Baekhyun's cheek.

“No kissing daddy!” Hayeon complained.

Hearing Hayeon calling Baekhyun her father warmed your heart. “I can't kiss daddy?” She didn't respond, instead observing you and Baehyun. “Together?” you tried.

She grinned with her tiny teeth and Baekhyun laughed at her cuteness. “Come over, my little princess,” he opened his left arm, not letting go of you. Hayeon squealed, jumping straight at Baekhyun which made him grunt. Without waiting, she pressed her mouth to Baekhyun's cheek while Baekhyun turned to you with a mischievous glint. He pressed his lips to yours and you smiled widely.

“Love you three so much,” said gently Baekhyun, looking at you and Hayeon while caressing your bump.

“Love you more,” you whispered and stole another kiss before Hayeon could notice.

Even though not everything was perfect, you finally were together as you should have been since the start of the mess. With most of it being resolved, you were excited to face a brand new chapter with Baekhyun and with the family you created with him.

.END.

/// /// /// /// /// /// ///

A/N: Hi! If you read till now, THANK YOU SO MUCH. My first angsty-smutty story phew. I am red and I do need to take a break lol. >< I really hope you liked this story and that you are satisfied with the happy end. ^^ I am satisifed. On this blog I have rarely a bad-ending stories soooo... Yes!

Thank you, pretty please leave a comment (cc) to let me know your thoughts?

See you soon!

#exowritersnet #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun smut #baekhyun angst #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun #byun baekhyun #baekhyun story

181 notes · View notes

thatesqcrush · 4 years

Text

Ingénue

Bryan Kneef x Reader. Oh come on my wonderful readers... you didn’t think Bryan was one and done right? This is dedicated to @madpanda75 who told me she needed a money shot Kneef fic and the lovelies of the discord chat I am in, who encourage the most salacious shit... the pillow is all you heathens. C/W: Blow-job! So much penis talk. Cum. This fills the money shot square in my K!nktober challenge (of course I have to participate too!).

WC: 1668.

Note: This is a one-off piece, which takes place between chapters 5 & 6 of Fall From Grace. I start off with the ending of ch. 5 just as a refresher, intro.

S/O again to @prurientpuddlejumper - Kneef is such a cranky asshole. Thanks for the gifs!

You rapped your fingers in annoyance as the presentation wore on. Between the monotonous drone of the associate and the dimmed lights, you were headed to snoozeville.

“If you can turn to slide 35, you can see that the Firm billables have increased substantially…”

You opened your interoffice messenger. You looked around the board room. Everyone was too busy listening to your colleague’s ramblings.

[YN]: Rescue me.

To your delight, Bryan responded rather quickly.

[BK]: Bored are we?

[Y/N]: Yes.

[BK]: That’s a shame. I’m busy in a meeting with Diane. You know this is a STR computer. People are probably monitoring.

You rolled your eyes at Bryan throwing your prior words back at you.

[YN]: And seeing what I have to say to you would be the most exciting thing to happen in their mundane lives.

‘Ha!’ you thought victoriously, using Bryan’s own words back at him as well.

There was no response from Bryan. After a minute or two passed, you felt something in your guts twist. You were about to give your attention back to the boring presentation when one of the STR Laurie gatekeeper’s rapped on the glass door.

“Ms. Y/L/N – Mr. Kneef would like to see you. Immediately.”

The group of your colleagues let out a low whistle, as if you were in trouble with the teacher.

You bit your cheek from smiling. If they only knew.

“This way.”

You followed the blonde gatekeeper up the spiral staircase to Bryan’s office. Your heart pounded in your chest and your nerves were already tingling in anticipation. Tiny explosions emanated from each synapse.

As you walked down the long hallway, it occurred to you that you had never been in Bryan’s actual office. The many encounters you had, he had always come to visit you. In a weird way you felt this was a huge step – to be allowed into his personal space.

Finally, you approached his office and you entered. To your surprise, the room was empty. You were instructed to take a seat at his desk and as you did so, you took in the room décor. Bryan’s office was a massive corner office with floor to ceiling windows offering an expansive view of Lake Michigan. The walls were painted a dark charcoal and included a built-in bookcase that was filled to the brim. A rolling wood step ladder accompanied it. In the middle was a glass coffee table flanked by a black leather couch and two matching armchairs. Two Appropriately so, there was an iron bar cart with an ice bucket, various alcoholic bottles and glasses hanging in storage.

There was a sound of a toilet flushing and then a sink being turned. You realized Bryan had a bathroom in his office.

“Ms. Y/L/N, thank you for coming.” Bryan greeted you, before turning to the gatekeeper. “You can go now.” He waved his hand dismissively and the gatekeeper dropped their head, nodding before closing the door with a click.

Bryan sat down and kicked his legs up on his desk, crossing them at the ankles.

“How was your meeting with Diane?” You asked.

“Not important.” Bryan replied. “I called you because you had said you were bored.”

“I was.” You replied. “Nothing like hearing about firm billables to really jazz up one’s day. It was titillating.” You rolled your eyes as you stood. Bryan raked in your outfit – a tight sweater which showed off the swells of your tits and cigarette-style pants. Completing your outfit was a pair of patent leather pumps and a bold red lip. You came around and hopped onto the corner of the desk carefully, making sure to not disturb the items on the desk.

Bryan leaned past you and hit the page button on his phone. “This is Kneef. Hold my calls, no interruptions. Working through lunch with Ms. Y/L/N on the Higgins case.”

“Will do sir.” The voice on the other side complied.

“Oh, sir.” You teased.

Bryan’s eyes flashed with heat and you leaned back, a half-smirk gracing your face. “Do you like that? Being called sir?”

Bryan didn’t reply as another flash of heat coursed through. “Take off your sweater.” His voice was dark and gravelly as it dropped an octave. “Show me those tits.”

“Yes, sir.” You replied, batting your eyes coquettishly. You gripped the hem of your sweater and pulled it off. Bryan groaned at the sight of you in a simple cotton bra. While he loved you in dainty lingerie that left little to the imagination, there was something erotically charged about you in something so… virginal. You reached around to undo your bra clasp to free your breasts from their encasement when Bryan held a finger at you, pausing you. He walked over to an arm chair and took one of the oversized pillows. He threw himself back into his chair and tossed the pillow in front of his legs. “On your knees.”

You knew exactly what he was getting at and sunk down to your knees getting a close-up of a truly impressive cock creating an outline against his expensive suit. You rubbed him through the materials of his pants, feeling his cock grow even harder under your palm. You made move to undo the belt, button, and zipper. You rubbed the head of his cock first, and then ran your fingers down the cloth-covered shaft. You reached in and pulled out his cock, which was angrily red and weeping pre-cum. You licked your lips and drew up some saliva in your mouth, before spitting into your hand. Bryan grunted and his hips jerked in response as you wrapped your manicured hand around the girth of his cock. You pumped his cock a few times before you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock. The salty taste of his pre-cum flooded your mouth as your tongue swirled around the head before flicking over the tip and then underside to the frenulum.

You flattened your tongue and then took the entire length in your mouth. Bryan’s cock was thick, with a large vein down the shaft, and you could tell it was painfully hard. Bryan let out a hiss of relief as he buried his hands into your hair. “Take it all.” Bryan commands and you relax your throat so you can take his length until he hits the back of your throat.

Bryan gives your hair a tug. “There you go.” He sounds almost kind, almost caring. He watches his cock disappear in your mouth and his eyes roll back. You hum your assent and stroke your hands over his thighs before reaching to cup his balls and give a gentle squeeze. “Oh fuck yeah. Just like that.”

His praise causes excitement to flood you. Much like your panties which you are certain are ruined. You look up at his face and Bryan’s eyes meet yours. You hollow your cheeks, bobbing on his length with more gusto. “Keep doing that… uhh... don’t stop.”

You feel empowered having rendered such a powerful man helpless because of what you can do with his mouth. The seam of your pants presses tightly against you causing some friction and you wish you weren’t wearing pants so you could touch yourself.

“You look so pretty like that.” Bryan grits. “With a mouth full of my cock.” And with that, he’s fucking into your mouth in long strokes. Your eyes water and saliva pools from out of your mouth.

“I’m gonna cum!” Bryan blurts out. You brace yourself to swallow the hot liquid but instead Bryan shoves you off of him. You don’t even have time to react because he’s fisting himself rapidly – and then it happens – with a deep grunt, he shoots his load. You open your mouth and stick out your tongue as thick ropes of his seed coat your face, your tongue, and even along your neck.

You hear Bryan collapse on the chair and you finally open your eyes, thankful nothing got there. Bryan smiles like the cat who caught the canary and he strokes your hair.

“Well, I’ll be damned. That was fun.” Bryan tucks himself in and then reaches into his drawer, pulling out a kerchief. “Here, go clean up in the bathroom.”

You nod, a bit stunned and you walk over to clean up. In the bathroom, you realize you look like a mess and there was no way to clean up without washing your face. You use the expensive hand soap to work up a lather and you clean up. You fix your hair and after a few minutes you head back out.

Bryan’s on his phone, arguing with someone and your sweater is neatly folded on the corner of Bryan’s desk.

You tug the sweater back on and you wait for what was probably a minute but seemed like forever for Bryan to acknowledge you. Instead he meets you with raised brows and you nod, heading back to your office.

When you return, Marissa is there waiting. “I heard you got sent to Kneef’s office. Are you fired?”

“No, I had to help him with the Higgins case. Damn associates don’t know what they’re doing.” You lied.

“Anyway, I picked you up a latte.” Marissa replies, placing the cup on your desk. “You look like hell. I hope Bryan didn’t ride you that hard. You should put some lipstick on.”

You let out a small laugh. “Thanks for the pro-tip.” You move your mouse to wake up your computer and the message on it causes you to freeze.

[BK: Such a hard little worker with that job.]

Your phone rings and your breath hitches as you answer. “STR Laurie, Y/N speaking.”

“My little office slut. Just you wait and see what I have planned for you later.”

“Come again... sir?”

“Oh you bet your sweet little ass you will. Again and again and again.” Bryan purrs before the line disconnects.

You look at the clock. It was half-past one. Time couldn’t move fast enough.

FIN.

Tags: @madpanda75 @mgarner1227 @tropes-and-tales @delia26 @beardedmccoy @youreverycolor @neely1177 @the-baby-bookworm @mrsrafaelbarba @skittle479 @ottosuricato @delia26 @sass-and-suspenders @mommakat32 @dreila03 @beccabarba @garturbo @lovebennycolon @imjustreallynosy @sweetsummertime99 @whyissvuruiningmylovelife @annabelleb49 @scarletsoldierrr @cesarofangirl78 @redlipstickandplaid @redlipstickandblacktea @zoeykaytesmom @differentshadesofgray @misssirenlove @esparza-army @bananas-pajamas @mishaissocoolike @thefanficfaerie @theenchantedgalleryofstories @catnip987 @choppedgalaxynerd-blog-blog @pieceofshittytitty @ktiz90 @evee87 @itsjustmyfantasyroom @blk0912 @detective-giggles @rampantmuses @jazzyjoi @caked-crusader @rachelxwayne @the-hopeless-haze @prurientpuddlejumper

#bryan kneef x reader #bryan kneef imagine #bryan kneef and reader #bryan kneef and you #the good fight smut

115 notes · View notes

elmidol · 3 years

Text

To Feel Your Touch Again

Come Darkened Starlight Part One Lullaby of Your Soul

Read on Ao3

Summary: Time does not end and the galaxy moves on, transitioning into a new era. There are songs that steal you from sleep, and a voice that whispers a promise to lead you astray from the balance that took so long to achieve. More than anything, there is him. There is Kylo and there is you. Thus begins the new chapter of rancor and tooke.

Come darkened starlight

I’ll lead you astray

Into the shadow of legends.

Come darkened starlight

There’s still much to say

Of the soul you joined together.

Whisper dim starlight

I’ll find you astray

With all your pain

And past horrors.

Weep not dull starlight

As this is the way

Releasing fear and destruction.

Silence my starlight

I’ve shown you the way

To capture a sun

And all systems.

Lead on oh starlight

And soon you’ll find prey

And reap a tale of tragedy.

Come darkened starlight

I’ll lead you astray

Into the shadow of legends.

Come darkened starlight

There’s still much to say

Of the soul you joined together.

Come Darkened Starlight

Part One: Lullaby of Your Soul

Chapter One: To Feel Your Touch Again

When all the horrors that had been endured pursued your subconscious concentration, you would sing yourself awake. The first time that this had occurred, you had spent the day trying to remember the song as well as where you had heard it before—if you had ever heard it. On this latest occurrence, you knew without question that the song had been composed on the spot. You pressed the tips of your fingers to the sensitive flesh underneath your tired eyes. If you sang aloud in your sleep, no one had commented on it. Kylo had always been known to stare at your slumbering form for as long as you could remember. Such behavior had increased subsequent to your second death. The action was reciprocated; you hated when he was away, when you could not wake to him there in bed with you.

That frustration would have been in full bloom had Trudgen not been laying beside you, his back in your direction. His night terrors had lessened in number. He never did sing, not where you could hear. You blinked whilst tracing his silhouette with your eyes alone. His body shifted subtly with his breaths. The low hum of the ship reminded you that this was not the Night Buzzard. Trudgen’s presence stemmed from a mutual need for comfort from nightmares and the fact that you were on a mission together.

Ranooke, the akk dog that had adopted Kylo and you, slunk into the room. He walked the circumference of the room then exited. This served as enough of a disturbance that Trudgen finally stirred. “Hmm.”

You shifted upwards, your hands dragging the blankets along with you to ward off the coolness offered by space. The stale ship air caused Trugen to cough into a fist as he, too, readjusted his position. He spoke then, his voice rumbling more than usual given the dryness in his throat. Trudgen asked you if you had had the nightmare again. The nightmare. It was the one that made you sing most frequently. Sometimes it sang back. Though Trudgen and Kylo knew of this particular nightmare, only Kylo knew of the singing. You thought back to the blend of voices—yours and an incorporeal one that you could never place.

“No, it was a different one. It wasn’t so bad.” This was the truth. Had Kylo been present, you would have elaborated. Instead he was in a different section of the ship, more than likely engaged in communications with the emissary that had been sent to request his presence. By engaged, of course, you imagined he stared at the man, who would be fumbling with his words as he attempted to discern if Kylo Ren was irritated by him or not.

You smiled at the thought and, keeping the blanket wrapped around your body, rose from the bed. Trudgen followed suit. He reached for his helmet, the only piece of his armor that he had previously removed before taking a nap with you, and tugged it on. The Knights of Ren had not changed their armor in favor of other attire since first embarking on diplomatic missions with Kylo Ren, who still had yet to take an official title different from Supreme Leader. Rey, on the other hand, had obtained the title Viceroy on behalf of her home planet. She, too, was present for the current mission. You took comfort in the familiar sight of Trudgen’s armor and masked face as he rounded the bed and reached the door first. It parted for him, however he stepped aside to instead allow you to leave the quarters.

In the corridor, Ranooke spun in a circle. He had grown since the final battle, and you wondered if he would achieve the size of a landspeeder like some did. You ran a hand along his head when walking past then heard his footsteps fall in line behind you along with Trudgen’s. You felt as though you were floating. Stumbling in your next step, you felt your cheeks heat up and did what you could to recover quickly. Trudgen did not comment, just as you never did when he would wake up in a sweat that soaked the bedsheets.

The scent of baked goods filtered into the air as you walked farther away from the quarters that you had been sharing with Kylo and Trudgen. Ap’lek, Cardo, and Vicrul took another of the quarters; and Rey, Kuruk, and Ushar had taken the last. Being on alternating sleep schedules prevented the beds from being shared in any manner that would have left one feeling uncomfortable. Presently, though, all were awake and gathered together in the conference room along with the emissary.

Kylo’s gaze landed on you, his eyes pinching slightly. His vision was known to falter when he pushed himself too hard, although this did not impede him as it had in the past. He adjusted more easily than he sometimes gave himself credit for. You traced the pair of scars on his face that ran perpendicular to one another, creating a cross. He was so beautiful to you, and you felt your fingers twitch as a longing to touch him arose. Later you would. Later, when he would allow himself to be fully vulnerable, when the two of you, one soul as two individuals, were alone together. A thrum of contentment filtered through the bond that you shared, and you knew that he felt it as well.

Three baskets of baked goods were spread around the table along with drinks. Millicent sat curled up in Ap’lek’s lap. She touched noses with Ranooke, who then moved past in favor of taking a seat to Kylo’s left. You sat on his right, the blanket that you had brought along draped across your lap and pooling at your feet and his. You hummed in contentment. Hummed then began to sing.

At times, it was not only nightmares that would prompt you to sing yourself awake. The lucid dreams gave you pause when you woke up singing in your head.

Kylo’s arms, secure around you, tugged you backwards. You sighed heavily and twisted around to bury your face into his chest. Inhaling his scent, you worked through what had happened and what hadn’t. Unconscious, you had properly remembered the sleeping arrangements as well as the presence of Millicent and Ranooke. The baked goods were fictitious; there were only ration bars and other MREs. The scars on Kylo’s face had been correct, as had his visual impairment. The blanket had been wrong. So, too, had the armor worn by the Knights of Ren. Their helmets had not changed, however their armor had been altered in the wake of new planets discovered in wild space.

“Is Rey a viceroy?” you asked in a quiet voice when you realized that you could not properly remember if that had been true or false.

“Acting emissary,” Kylo said in reply as he trailed his fingers down the length of your spine. You arched forward. The warmth of his body flooded into yours. Instead of melting into it like you wanted to, you shoved your heels against the mattress and scooted upwards. Your fingers raked along your scalp, albeit gently and without leaving marks.

Starlight filtered into the room from the wide viewport to your left. You looked to the sea of darkness that was dotted by stars. A memory stirred, the memory of your second death mingled with details from your first. You had peered down into the water to observe life while you had been there, dead yet in a land between. The war over your soul, within your soul, had prevented you from transitioning into full death. And then you had made a choice. While pondering and weighing your options, you had tumbled through darkness.

Perhaps that was the voice that sang to you, you thought. The darkness and the light both soothing you in their own way. Comforting you, luring you towards one side instead of maintaining balance.

You reached for Kylo and stroked a hand through his hair, felt the softness of his curls. He, likewise, drew his hand away from the center of his body. It was not you that he had reached for. Instead, he touched a music player that you brought along most places. The song that filled the silence of the room stilled your breath. There it was, that familiar rhythm. There were no lyrics to this song, and so you had in your sleep provided them some.

“I had a nightmare within a dream.” The confession was unnecessary, however you enjoyed talking with him too much to refrain from continuing. “I keep singing, keeping narrating even as I do. I feel so much when I do.” You paused, swallowing thickly. Once, during a similar conversation, Kylo had revealed that you sang to him in his dreams as well, that you had done so on occasion ever since you had sung to him on the day Leia had been murdered.

The lapse into silence offered you a moment’s reprieve from the nervousness that had slipped past your guard. You willed away thoughts of Leia’s passing while hoping that your feelings on the matter had not slipped through the bond. If it had, Kylo displayed no noticeable signs. He picked up a datapad that had been sitting beside the music player along with a pair of glasses that he only wore when alone. This need for assistance, this vulnerability, was not one he was yet ready to share with the galaxy at large. More often than not one of the Knights of Ren would take whatever material needed to be read and do so aloud. Or else Kylo would order that the other party do so themselves. On days when his eyesight was not an issue, he still would not read the material so as to prevent drawing more attention when it was.

You observed him in your peripheral. In truth, you rather liked how he looked with his glasses on. Kylo turned his head a fraction to meet your gaze, and you sucked your lips into your mouth to conceal the nervous grin that had started to form upon being caught.

“What was the nightmare?” He seemed to already know that it had not been the nightmare, which was a comfort. You threaded your fingers together then pulled them apart. He began to silently read the text on the datapad without pushing you to speak. He already knew that you would, that you merely required another moment to gather your thoughts. It was equally an excuse for you to observe him in his glasses, the light catching the corners. His amber eyes were forever beautiful to you.

After a time, you slid your right hand underneath your pillow to withdraw one of your many electronic pets. You thumbed the power button to wake the creature and began to play a minigame on the device while you described the nightmare.

In the nightmare, you had danced on a bed of bones that did not pierce your flesh. Where the blood pouring down those skeletal remains came from, you hadn’t known. Familiarity had nagged at you, as though you were meant to know whose bones they were. Thus your subconscious mind had started to work through that riddle, listing off names of people you had lost over the course of the long war. It had not been any of them though. Flesh and clothing had started to materialize on the remnants until you danced upon the corpses of those you had killed. And so you had started to sing.

Kylo did not ask you which song you had sung. His lips formed soundlessly around the syllables, which caused your heart to race. You bit down on your bottom lip, worked your teeth back and forth on it. Your fingers made quick work of the minigame and next in feeding the electronic pet. He would not sing; if you were lucky, however, he might hum the tune. You held your breath in anticipation, curled your toes.

I buried his ashes down by the brook,

And into the meadow I strayed.

I built up my house out where he would look,

Where in my childhood I played.

I carried her with me through the world

And among the stars I would dance.

My parents did watch my life unfurl,

And gave to me every best chance.

I--

And that was when you had woken up. It was where Kylo’s lips ceased in their movements. He set aside the datapad and stroked your cheek with the tips of his bare fingers. You shuddered at their warmth, at the contact that was unimpeded by gloves, which he nearly always wore. “A song of Naboo,” he said, his voice low, husky. He set the palm of his hand to your cheek, and you leaned into his touch.

“Is that what it was?” you asked. His eyes pinched in the corners, and you narrowed yours in return at his teasing. You knew what that expression meant: any song from you was a song of Naboo. That had been your birth planet, a planet that no longer existed. You carried it with you in your heart, as did all other surviving Naboolians. “I danced on the bodies of my enemies.” He nodded, and you knew what he was thinking: I burned mine, tooke. “Maybe it wasn’t such a bad nightmare?” Not when you compared it to others.

Kylo leaned his face nearer to yours. Tilting back your head, you succeeded in fogging his glasses with your breath, which made you chuckle. Kylo’s lips parted and he sighed then whispered your name.

He was working to steady himself. Now that he, like you, had found balance, killing impacted him differently. It would be far too easy to fall into old habits, historic behaviors. There were multiple reasons for the current mission, some not entirely political. When it came to the creatures terrorizing the planet’s people—behemoths that were resistant to the Force—that was not a matter that Rey or Kylo felt rested with any political allegiances, though some of the senators disagreed. The same flaws that had infiltrated the New Republic and the Empire as well as the Old Republic; greed, manipulation, a lack of action. Kylo Ren, as leader of the alliances that had formed under the Order of Ren, rejected those flaws and took matters into his own hands. That was why the planet had contacted him directly. It was why few had questioned his position of authority.

A time would come where that would happen and on a more open front. In the meanwhile, he focused on what had always been his goal: ruling the galaxy and bringing order. Not through tyranny as he might once have. Although intimidating others did hold an allure, offer him temporary amusement.

Another reason that the mission was taking place stemmed from the fact that several species of local fauna were similar to creatures that had been native to Naboo. You wanted to know more, wanted to learn if perhaps there had once been travellers from Naboo to this planet in wild space. It gave you hope, and you were only too pleased to cling to that.

Kylo pulled off his glasses and began to clean the condensation off their surface. “Sorry.” You glanced at the chrono on the wall. The journey to the planet was long, namely due to the fact that resources were being conserved as best they could be. Finn would join on a different ship if the mission had not ended by the time he wrapped up his current duties with Lando and Jannah. Poe and Rose were together on a separate mission; they would rest, however, as they had been deployed numerous times in the past month and the strain had begun to show physical signs. “Are Kuruk and Vicrul still self-isolating?” They had been doing so quite often. When it came to Kuruk, that behavior was normal. For Vicrul, it was newer, the same as it was with Trudgen.

Pausing in his movements, Kylo tilted his head. You knew that he reached out with the Force to brush against the Knights’ presence and locate them. “Together.” You nodded, watched as he replaced the glasses on the bedside table. He passed the datapad to you, scrolling then pointing. You read the passage with a frown.

More information on the Force-resistant creatures had been released, though much of it was speculation. Kylo had told you how he had killed the Zillo Beast, however that had only been one. There were multiple creatures in this case and they had been observed in pairs. While they were resistant to the Force, they actively sought out its users. Other creatures from different planets had been known to behave as such.

“You will stay behind with Vicrul, Cardo, and Ap’lek.” A scowl broke across your face. “There will be multiple expeditions into their territory. Three parties will form.” You huffed, working through what he was not saying. Rey would lead the third group. Her group and Kylo’s would go while you remained behind to learn what you could about the creatures similar to those that had been on Naboo. “An LDS may be necessary.” The minute amount of agitation that had begun to build dissipated. Your mouth formed a small oh of understanding. “Some younglings may join Rey in training once this mission ends.”

“On the planet, or will they leave with her?” His gaze flickered to the door before returning to your face. He shook his head almost imperceptibly. It was either unknown or undecided. That part was political. You wrinkled your nose and moved on from the matter. “You’re leaving Ranooke with me, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

Relief flooded through you. You did not want to think of Ranooke facing any of those creatures any more than you wanted to think of Kylo doing so. Millicent would remain aboard the ship. Her presence was due to the feline having snuck aboard—or that was the story that Ap’lek told, which you were struggling to believe given the frequency with which this occurred. Then again, you thought, it did make sense to you. She had lost her former home, her former master. And she had been made to travel often when she had been in Hux’s care. You felt your stomach roil at the name, and you shoved it away.

You curled your body against Kylo’s. He wound his arms around you, pulling you back down so that you could lay together for a little while longer. The back to back missions had taken him away from you for nearly a month. A mere two days together before this mission had come up. You were glad to be there with him, to be in his arms, to feel his touch. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, breathing a sigh of relief.

This moment of peace in time, you would embrace it for all it was worth.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren/reader #come darkened starlight #cds #tbt2 #kylo x reader #kylo/reader #kylo ren fanfic

21 notes · View notes

oh-for-fic-sake · 4 years

Text

Trophy Chapter Ten

Masterlist

after the night before you and henry find yourself in a new happy dynamic but stephan is bitter and hurt and luke wants you to bring down your daddy..But can you do it? or have you just had enough?

Warnings: Adult Situations 18+, Smut, Swearing, Little space?, daddy kink, Oral(Fem)

A/N: REMEMBER Stephan’s identity was revealed last time so for the time being he is James.okay? so I have had to split this chapter up a little so its not as bad as the original draft...But Eleven is well fuck me don't get me started! I hope everything makes sense haha! any way enjoy loveys

Taglist: @havenoffandoms @aphrodites-punch @charlieferret @thatgirly81 @two-unbeatable-beaters @fitnees-motivation-2020 @viking-raider @iloveyouyen @black-ninja-blade @strangerliaa @sofiebstar @thefangirlsblog @thatdamncutegirl

Henry awoke the next morning curled around you, your head on his bicep making it numb but he wasn't going to move it, you looked so comfy smiling in your sleep your soft snores signalling you were still all tuckered out. He smirked then cast his eyes down the length of your bodies...Shit he was still in his shirt and pants from last night...Cock hanging loosely from the open zipper still making him flush a little seeing it just flopped out like that, you were naked covered in the dark silk sheet haphazardly thrown across you covering what needed to be covered. The sight was just another innocently erotic image he would treasure...He really needed to start taking photos.

He groaned rolling to his back careful not to move his arm from underneath you and tucked his cock neatly back into place zipping himself back up he grinned tucking his arm behind his head propping it up looking over to the still messy sybian. Last night was...The best night of his life! far better then what he had imagined and fantasized. He hummed rolling his tongue around behind his teeth closing his eyes he could still see you, glistening dripping in jewels and sweat as you rocked mercilessly on your new toy. It would become an effective punishment and reward he might not have to use the cane much with you a few hours in this thing would correct any misdemeanors in a jiffy. He looked at you again 'beautiful, stunning, mine all mine' he felt giddy at the thought like a small boy and all his Christmases had come at once.

You had made your decision last night it was him you wanted...And boy did you want him he had no doubt that you'd have done anything for him! to fuck you last night, that you wished it had been his cock splitting you open but...You hadn't begged him to fuck you yet, he was petulant in that respect. He wanted you to crave him to crawl and beg on hands and knees for his cock, to cry and pout and scream stomp your little feet and throw a fit! until you got what you wanted. Last night you were close to it he could tell~ so close his guess was by the end of the week he'd have you. He looked down to you curling over kissing your head a few strands of hair moved to your face making you whine and bring up a hand smoothing it back in your sleep and frown, pink lips drawing into a cute pout and rolled over flat on your back head tucking into your shoulder lolling off his arm.

He smiled as moving a hand pulled the sheet revealing a nipple that had began to pucker and peek out. Tempting him. He smirked moving a hand ghosting his fingers over the taught bud then down peeling back the sheet biting his lip staring as he ran the tip of his fingers around your breast stopping when you sighed in your sleep arching up to the tickling feeling slow drags on the underside of the breast. He chuckled then flicked at it at the now pebbled nipple slowly getting an idea without much of a thought he slowly pulled the soft cool sheet away relishing in the way you shivered goose bumps rising across your skin in one slow full body shiver. You let out a breathy whine moving a hand searching for the sheet in your sleep then bent your splayed legs before bringing your knees closer and settling again. Henry licked his lips locking in on his target, the smooth mound tucked almost innocently between a set of soft pudgy thighs. He moved siting up undoing the buttons on his shirt in a controlled hurried manner and slipped it of. He wasn't that vain but he knew you liked his topless your eyes lit up at his maintained physique. He twisted down to all fours like a predator crawling around you eyeing his prize and settled slowly between your knees running a fingertip along the sensitive flesh coaxing you to open your knees wider you did trying to shake off the tickles and he shuffled up looking making sure you don't ruin his little treat, this was a reward he wants to start your knew life of right! and what better way then to wake you up by feasting on your soft juicy cunt!

You whimpered quietly when he moved his arms looped below your thighs wrapping over the top and held you open his palms were hot against your cool soft skin and he held them high so his fingers could still be used later on for...Reasons. He took a deep breath breathing in the scent of your still messy pussy and place a sloppy open mouthed kiss on the top just above your hooded clit, twisting his face pressing harder mimicking the rough needy kisses he used to take your breath away. You moaned breathing hitching and arching slightly in your sleep softly grinding towards his mouth, your body knowing you were being ravished by your man, falling prey to his lust once again with out any conscious thoughts. He angling his head keeping a close eye on you and poked his tongue out tasting your arousal properly sliding down using his tongue to spread your labia lapping slowly at the hidden pearl that was quickly revealing itself front its little hood.

You whined and bucked cutely into him again panting soft moans and soundless whines escaping you as your arousal began wetting his chin as he drank you in slurping lewdly at your cunt making sure to rub his chin on your weeping opening growling and grunting as he feasted wetting his face on you being sure to flick and tease the small bud nipping and suckling.

"Ah! Daddy!hmmm~" he froze his heart almost burst him! You knew it was him you were dreaming of him! you were coming to but that didn't matter now he had started and he would bloody well finish his snack whether your awake of not! With that thought he then drove his tongue up into the wet creamy channel moaning up into your tiny heat as he tasted you once again a sweet yet musky taste he would never grow bored of he flicked his tongue using the tip to massage your opening quickly.

It was then your woke gasping and moaning at the hot penetration. Eyes wide you reared up spreading your legs wide bringing them up trying to dislodge whatever was flicking up into you, curling over hands gripping his hair in two tight fists and pulled at him trying to get him away yet your hips rocked on instinct, as if you already knew who is was! who your body belonged to even in slumber!.

"OH MY GOD-ahah fu-fuck daddy? what are ugh!" you cried out as he moved faster giving your opening quick and precise kitten licks over the muscle pressing as firm as he could with the flat of his tongue letting the tip pass the thick quivering muscle to tease your inner walls with each drag of his tongue. It was incredible you'd never paid much notice to how sensitive your actual opening itself was but fuck me! it was a glorious feeling. He was quick you tilt his head nudging your clit harshly with his nose then moved up to latch onto the little button sucking it back between his teeth guiding his hands to your core pulling apart your lips holding you open on display. you whined when you were pulled apart the cool air creeping across the drenched folds. It was when he pulled back no longer warming you with his breath, you moved to cover your self he captured your fingers in his mouth biting them growling in warning.

"No Daddy please I'm messy a-and sore!" he released your hand leaving marks from his reprimanding bite.

"Good then Daddy has done his job! now little girl flick your clit for daddy as he devours you~ I want you to cum in my mouth" you faltered shivering and blushing feeling embarrassed.

"D-daddy? I don't think I can...I've never done that in front of anyone-" he chuckled dipping his tongue inside you for a second shutting you up with your own surprised squeak.

"Its that or I'm making you hold yourself open and you'll cum from pussy spankings with Daddy's strap! You chose princess" you gasped feeling another stream of your hot arousal trickle from You at the mention of being strapped across your vulnerable clit. What was wrong with you? Why did that sound fun?

"Come on princess daddy is waiting~ now what will it be?" you hesitantly moved your bitten hand slowly to your open pussy. Resting your fingertips on you clit and rolled in small c motions he watched blowing out cool air onto your wide open twitching cunt.

"That’s it~ go on tickle your little bud daddy wants to taste his little one~ wants his breakfast nice and early~" you flushed darker gasping when he pressed a kiss on your working fingers making you press harder on your erect bud. He moved closer smirking and hummed giving your opening another open mouthed kiss swirling his tongue around your hole then widened his tongue again licking and twisting it inside you making your body shudder and try to grind on him.

Your fingers moved pinching and rolling your bud making you twitch around his tongue trying to close your legs around him humping his face loosing yourself but his hands held fast still spreading your lips over his mouth as he dived in deeper playing with you. you tensed toes curling and grinded on your hand moving your fingers fast trying to chase a fast wave of pleasure.

"DAD-DADDY FUCK YESyesyesyesyes please please can I? I want please?!PLEASE MAKE ME CUM AGAIN DADDAUGH!" his reply was to drag his sharp teeth over your contracting opening sparking a frenzy of pulses across the muscles. The pleasure shot to your clit still being massaged by your own fingers allbeit stuttering but still adding building to an impossible high. You held your breath pushing back with your feet pressing into the mattress arching as you cried out in exctasy gyrating your hips on his face as you came loud and proud.

"DADDY?! DADD-OH OH FUCK FUCK NOO ITS-" you shuddered feeling yourself melt into his mouth making him hum and growl drinking you in like you was the fountain of youth, greedily trying to take as much of you in as possible. You heaved deep breaths as he pulled away shuffling up his chest flush against your sopping cunt and moving his hands to rest on your stomach one grasping your wrist tugging your hand to his mouth and suckling the last of your arousal off of your fingers smirking as you went all shy and pulled trying to get him to release you.

"Daaaaadddyyy! nooo stop its embarassing-"

"It's delicious! I told you baby doll I'd have you for breakfast everyday if I could~" he smiled releasing your hand with a parting kiss to the tip of your finger then laid his chin on your pelvis giving a soft kiss to the warm skin. He tilted his head to the side taking a moment to stare up as you he was content and so were you it seemed everything was looking up. You sighed slowly moving your fingers through Henry's hair twirling the dark curls and a flush crept up your chest settling at your cheeks making you go pink...He was staring, his serene blues taking you in, watching you almost in a daze, like he couldn't believe you where there and happy...Were you happy? You wasn't sure things had moved fast...You felt giddy but that could just be the afterglow of insane sex and a wake up to remember...But you felt calm and relaxed for the first time completely unafraid of this incredibly cunning and dangerous man...you giggled at him cutely raking your fingers through the perfectly messy hair, you supposed you were happy...happy and small and it was a nice change after all these months. You'd made him happy, which and in turn made you happy...maybe staying here wasn't going to be so bad.

"Good morning daddy" he grinned placing a kiss on your tummy again crawling higher littering kisses across stomach, moving to your sides making you giggle and squirm as he blew raspberries on your ribs before placing two sweet kisses on your nipple before sucking harshly making you grunt and arch you gripped his hair and tugged pulling him off the dark bud. When he looked up he frowned and growled opening his mouth to scold you but you had other ideas, leaning down and yanking him closer by his hair he grunted in slight pain but chuckled when he felt you kissing at him desperately, your small once timid tongue now darting around his mouth sweetly exploring your newly claimed territory. He groaned when you wrapped the dexterous muscle around his almost pumping his thick tongue like you had his cock only a few hours ago you closed your eyes tasting yourself still on his tongue.

Something a few short weeks ago would have found disgusted you was now the most erotic-well second most erotic thing you'd ever tasted, the first was the man himself! His own musky clean taste of his velvet skin and the salty cum you had be rewarded with for your efforts. You moaned into him before pulling back slowly, he moved tipping his head forward to yours smiling looking you straight in the eye as your hands fell to his broad shoulders.

"It is a good morning isn't it little one?" You giggled again then cringed looking down his chest and abdomen were smothered in your arousal from his climb across you and now smeared across your front.looked to the sybian and winced it was still there and messy from last night.Henry followed your gaze and tutted placing a finger below your chin making to look back to him.

"Now now princess that was a treat~ you don't get to go on your horsey unless daddy says and I think you were spoilt enough last night...now come on little one time for a shower you’ve gotten us all sticky~" you flushed stammering as he sat up wanting to argue with him but settled for pouting instead as he slipped off the bed and dragged you up behind him carrying you to the bath room with a noticeable spring in his step the man was elated and to be quite frank so was you.

"Come on...come on fucking pick up!" Stephan was hissing trying to keep his balance which was hard when his eyes were blackened his view of the world two slits he was teetering on his good leg he was surprised he was still standing...albeit on one leg but he was here still despite the swollen battered state he was in he was more determined then ever to get this son of a bitch behind bars...and you if it came down to it! He no longer cared for your involvement you'd shagged that cunt! Betrayed him ignored his bravery and the escape he offered, that he put his job his fucking life on the line for! But you’d rather go home with that monster and fuck him? Oh no that wasn't going to slide. He was gunning for the both of you now.

He wobbled grunting through his teeth and dialed the number again his body trembling the adrenaline he was running on was wearing thin soon the pain would really hit and he will fucking pass out. The black eyes and broken nose was tolerable the wrist was pushing it but his broken knee? It was the worst pain he'd had in a long time such a fucking awkward place to get a hit. It swollen but constrained by his trousers unable to bend or straighten it holding it at an odd angle that throbbed he needed it sorted. They had graciously allowed him to keep his phone everything was wiped sim card out and the sd card but he was an agent he phoned 911 again dialing his agency's extension number.

"Joel! Joel don't hang up its me!"

"Fucking hell James? Where the fuck you been? Been looking everywhere for you! Just fucking dropped off the map!" He sighed taking deep breaths trying to breath through the pain quickly flooding his system.

"Joel I'm I need help I’m fucked! But we got him! I can bring him in racketeering! Assault!" Joel had to slow him down unable to make heads or tails of James’s mutterings

"Whoa whoa what are you on about! Bring in who?" James growled down the phone getting frustrated with his superior

"Fucking Cavill! Cavill Joel! He fucking tried to have me off'd"

"And you got away? how!? Fuck hang on you hurt?" James started heaving as the pain began catching up with him he spat up blood and bile.

"No no I'm sweet as a nut...OF COURSE I'M FUCKING HURT!!" he heaved again pulling the phone away and began throwing up mostly blood again he spat a few times bringing the phone back to his ear and continued.

"I look I'm at the fields come get me! Hurry I'm gonna pass out I don't wanna be out cold if they come back" Joel swore knowing exactly where to go the wide stretches of farmland on the out skirts of the city along the motor way...Bodies popped up there occasionally people who falling victim to Henry's displeasure.

"Right hang on tight! I'm on my way!" Joel hung up and James could breath easier they were coming for him, he crumpled to the floor landing at and odd angle due to his knee he swore and screamed as his broken wrist took the brunt of the fall.

James wasn't waiting long maybe twenty minuets or so they must have had and escort and blue lighted it. Joel got out with another one of the team a medic.

"Fucking Christ James! How the fuck you get away like that?" James shook his head groaning as he had sets of hands moving to help him to the car."Didn't...He released me! It was a test Joel a fucking test not for me!" Joel frowned not following to all intents and purposes James shouldn't be breathing.

"Then who? Who's case is he on now?" Joel quickly helped James and the medic into the back of the car then took to the drivers seat and began moving the car to the slip road for the motorway they had to be out of here fast.

James hissed and groaned as the medic began dressing his wounds as best as she could apologizing as he grunted and hissed at her. Joel was quick to gun it down the motorway aiming to get to HQ as soon as he could the medi bay are waiting on them.

"Y/n! Fucking shes fucking! I don't know the details but last night was a test she passed and I was let go..From what I can tell if she had refused him last night you'd have found me in pieces!" The medic was quick to get morphine into him as they began moving in to the city.

"Y/n? the cute cafe worker? but you said she didn't know anything?" James grunted and roared as his wrist was twisted back into a natural position with a definitive crack.

"She fucking didn't! She-there was nothing there! He kidnapped her a few months ago I fucking told you! I told you but you didn't! ugh fucking watch it! My legs fucked to if you didn't fucking notice!" he dragged his good hand through his hair laying back across the seat huffing focusing on his breathing as the woman apologized.

"Funny you should mention her...You were right shes not in the UK not been on any flights had the metropolitan police check the forwarding address and job... shes not there a false paper trail but it was a good one he hired some fucking look alike to trapse around as her for a month or so to throw people off" James grunted swallowing some water frown a water bottle before growling out a reply.

"I fucking told you! I saw her weeks ago and yesterday-" Joel’s head snapped back at him wide eyed

"Yesterday where? We haven't had a trace! What the fuck did you do?!"

"I went after him! I tried to rescue her did a whole fucking love triangle thing in his restaurant in his hotel ....Gave her a chance to run she didn't take it!" Joel slammed the breaks causing James to curse at him but Joel ignored his bitching turning around fully.

"You went after Cavill? Are you fucking mad! James what the fuck?!" James raged at his handler as he almost rolled off the seat to the foot well he growled and let loose screaming at the other man.

"I FUCKING LOVED HER! SHE WAS-WE I COULD HAVE HAD A FUTURE! A WIFE KIDS THE FUCKING LOT WITH THAT WOMAN! AND HE TOOK HER! NO ONE WOULD HELP I HAD TO DO SOMETHING...I love her...Fucking....Love and she-she chose him! She chose to stay with that murdering piece of shit Joel!" What started as vengeful rant ended in pitiful gut wrenching sobs of a broken agent. Joel watched taking deep breaths and pulled the car away again giving James time to collect himself he took some deep breaths before asking the question hanging in the air between them.

"Is she with him?" James shook his head grunting low in his chest.

"Not like that! He kidnapped her! He has something over her...She can't...She can't love him she must be to frightened... You should have got her out!" Joel was flooded with guilt, James was right they should have at least looked into it, he dreaded to think what the girl has seen... what she has had to do to save her own skin.

"I'm sorry James but we couldn't risk a whole operation on going in and getting her at that point" James yelled out through a sob still lost in his despair.

"And what makes her so special to you now?!" Joel looked to the broken agent with a heavy sigh he began explaining what the result of there year long sting was.

"...He's clean James...Fucking clean as a whistle...FBI CIA MI5 and 6 and no one not one of us has a damn thing! There is nothing on him... No bullshit! No games he does everything out in the open yet so well hidden! Its like nothing we've seen. His legit businesses are covering his other shit easily....He is just making to much money we can't track it all! He should have been a politician...Fuck we found ties to the fucking white house and congress James...Tax returns are immaculate, no parking offenses, no scams or fuckups anywhere!...When I tell you this kidnapping and your assault are the only routes we got I mean they are the only things we got! Until someone else talks..."

"Thought you weren't gonna bother down that road" Joel pulled up to HQ heading for the underground parking lot he frowned looking at James through the rearview mirror.

"What? What do you mean? I thought it was you!?" James frowned what was he missing? He voiced his confusion.

"Me what? Whats happened?" Joel parked up and turned the car off then spun in his seat facing the bruised man.

"Some...Footage was delivered...It's from inside Fletchers cafe Grainy and old camera but its her being kidnapped after closeing up...Someone in the local force is under Cavill's thumb. Dumbass's didn't even look! But my guess is that if it wasn't you who handed it in then Fletcher has had enough of playing puppet... We tried talking already but he is being watched... Closely something's happening and I don't know what James what have you got for us any way? you said you could pull him in?" James growled and motioned to himself

"What have I got? You fucking-THIS YOU CUNT LOOK AT ME!! Fucking hell more morphine! That ain't touching shit!...Look I haven't got no names but it was obvious his men referred to Henry calling him boss and his new toy which I'm assuming is y/n..Well not toy said shes the queen of his sordid empire now the Jewel in his crown!" Joel wasn't put off by the outburst but he sensed James' hostility to y/n he loved the woman and hated her...Joel could understand in a way he spoke trying to calm the injured agent down.

"Fuck alright alright Jesus!...You have your badge and gun yesterday?"

"No I fucking didn't I'd have shot that cunt between his smug little beady fucking eyes!" Joel sighed at the vicious growl .Right.

"Fuck sake James sit still! Look you can take him on as a civilian but you have to stick to your cover stay as Stephan for the case...Have to cover the agent shit we do this in court, No CIA bullshit if it fails and we are tied to it we would be fucked, everything we have ever had on Cavill could go up in smoke! Double jeopardy and all that" James sighed searching Joel's eyes following what he was getting at.

"So get him on this and the kidnapping then once he's inside -" Joel smiled nodding

"Once he's inside dismantle his empire build up a case...With him gone we could do plea deals with his associates and bring another case to keep him there! But we need you to bring the case and get the girl to testify! We need her account of things to put him down!" James nodded he would think of something...He had to the whole case rested on it...And if you don't testify then he’d just have to make you out as his queen his accomplice you'd just have to fall with the mighty kingpin.

"Stephan, do you want to press charges on one Mr Henry Cavill for kidnap with intent to harm, assault and grievous bodily harm"

"Fucking yes....Whats an agent gotta do to get more morphine round here? Fucking die Jeesh!" Joel smiled yeah he’d be okay a few days rest and he’d be kicking ass again. Joel nodded to the medics on Stand by to sort James out as he moved from the car going upstairs to handle the arrest warrant.

You giggled rolling around on the floor in the living room with Kal, your short blue pleated skirt flicking to and fro as Kal shook the other end of the rope with all his might making your body jolt with his tugs. Today has been different, incredible you had a new view on this relationship..last night was...It was fucking amazing and not just the sex! going out and being treated like a queen. After this morning you had decided to try and indulge him a little more with his kink? fetish? whatever it was called you found it surprisingly easy and felt better for it! You felt...Different playful and free and small? like a cheerful little girl much like this morning but it wasn't an afterglow as you first thought you were just happy with him today like everything has clicked into place and he just...he made more sense!

"Kal! Gimme its my toy~!" The Akita didn't ducking lower and tugged bouncing back onto his hind legs growling playfully. You moved to kneel and pulled back tugging the loop at the end of the rope out of breath from playing tug with the strong bear.

Henry sat on the sofa watching, this was the life he'd wanted. Taking care of business on his laptop as his little baby girl had the time of her life playing with Kal. He smirked as your skirt flipped up again when Kal gave a particularly rough pull dragging you off your knees to lay back on your tummy. Henry groaned as he got a clear view of your perfect ass as the small skirt swished back and forth with your and Kal's game. Everyone was in a good mood its as if yesterday truly was the definitive moment for you both, you were content and happy just going along with him as any good little girl would. You giggled and rolled to your back both hands still on the rope as Kal tugged you across the living room. He could sit here and watch you playing with Kal forever but he had to bring the game to a stop, kal was getting more excited and it was going to end in tears.

"Little one, that's enough let Kal have his toy" you turned and pouted.

"But were playing!" Henry raised a brow

"Not anymore, let go... You have to let him have it occasionally" you pouted sitting back on your bottom letting Kal run off with the rope you frowned as Kal came back to the door tapping his feet prancing around showing off then ran away again parading his trophy through out the house.

"Good girl come sit over here with daddy for a while-" you flopped back down on the carpet puffing your cheeks Henry sighed watching you huff and puff sulking. He held his tongue you were falling into your little sub space again...which was good he was glad today was just going perfectly you'd seemed to be enjoying yourself he just didn't realize you'd be such a cheeky little madam. "Daddy...Daddy I'm bored!" Henry tilted his head giving a bored look he didn't really want to punish you for being in a sub space but..he wasn't putting up with a spoilt little brat he sighed when you stretched out on the floor kicking your feet a little showing your bare pussy as you had your first little paddy. It was cute...Tempting and adorable but he had to make things clear.

"Well you can go play in your playroom, I just don't want you to get hurt..Kal was getting to excited-" you interrupted him in a petulant whine.

"You just don't want me and Kal to have fun! god sake I've got fuck all to do Henry!" Henry snapped his gaze up at you was that little space? or something else? he huffed placing his laptop on the sofa beside him and pointed to the floor before him and called you over you froze for a second getting and uneasy feeling through all the... Playfulness receding as you looked at Henry seeing a dark fierce look brewing in his eyes. You twitched under the unwavering gaze boring into you burning. you panicked and moved kneeling up covering your ass instinctively.

"D-daddy I'm sorry I'll be good!"

"Come here pet...I just want to talk promise" you eyed him cautiously and bite your lip at him before asking in a quiet voice

"I-please? No spanking?" he chuckled shaking his head softening his face.

"Not yet no, please come here baby we need to have a chat that's all" you contemplated and decided to trust him rolling over and crawled over to him sitting before him leant forward and hoisted you up to his lap you squeaked as he sat you on his knee and bounced it lightly.

"Now little one I know your in your little sub space and its all new and exciting, you might not know how to handle it but that doesn't mean you get to misbehave! I don't want you to start being naughty-"

"I'm not in sub space...I'm just happy! and wasn't being naughty!" he shushed you

"Ah ah! Daddy want finished you are in subspace and your pushing me..Its normal but you can only push daddy so far now go and get some of your colors from your play room and you can sit here and color while daddy does his work"

"No! I don't want to color!!" Henry was quick to grip your chin making you look at him settling you with a stern look.

"Enough do as your told...Start acting up and you wont be bored you'll be a sorry sore little girl!" you gulped and looked down your playful mood gone now and you felt normal nodded and he released you motioning for you to get up and get your pencils from your play room

"Now go get your colors and some paper" you looked down sulking at him

"I don't want to color"

"Then get a book or something else to do while daddy finishes his work...And put that bottom lip away before daddy gets your bottom out for a little one on one session" you heaved a sigh and got up walking to the play room routing through your things for something to do settling on re-watching Seven Brides For Seven Brothers it might cheer you up to sing along.

You smiled clutching the dvd and made your way back to the living room but froze when there was a loud knock at the front door and the shouts of 'police open up!' you yelped jumping back in fight and shivered unsure what to do as Henry came out of the living room holding up his hand trying to calm you. You looked from him to the door the you’d banging was frightening, like they didn't want you to open the door they wanted to know it off its hinges! you whined taking a step back never been in a situation like this before. Henry caught your attention making his way swiftly over to you.

"Baby girl go to your play room...Daddy?..Has to go out for a little bit" you quivered as the shouts got louder from outside you moved back a few more steps frightened looking to the door shaking your head.

"No- that’s the police I-whats going on? are they coming to get you? a-are you being arrested" Henry sighed reaching you kissing your head trying to reassure you rubbing your arms lightly he tucked you into a hug comforting you.

"No..No baby...Baby look at me...It's okay everything will be fine Daddy is just going to answer some questions and he will be back tonight...Please just do as your told okay?" you nodded leaning up on your tip toe kissing him as Luke opened the door letting the police into the house. Henry gave a reassuring pat on your back.

"Go...Everything will be fine just go to your play room... watch your films and I will be back before you know it...Take Kal with you to snuggle" Henry pushed you back down to your play room as the officers came up to him. You moved slowly down the hall turning placing one hand on the wall watching as they began sneering at him.

"Cavill your coming with us!"

"why?" the tallest officer sneered at him standing threateningly over him even though Henry was slightly shorter he was broader he didn't flinch or bat an eye at the puffed up police officer

"An interview there have been accusations" Henry nodded tilting his head

"And? do I get to hear what I'm being accused of?"

"You'll find out when we get there!" they grabbed Henry spinning him harshly making him grunt as they cuffed him tighter then necessary. Henry nodded sending you a cheeky wink before being dragged out of the house Luke slammed the door shut shaking the walls with the force and you stayed still shaking and blinking suddenly very frightened to be in this house without him...And you had a right to be with the way Luke was smirking at you.

Luke hid his smile as Henry was piled into the back of a police car in cuffs was this it? was this the mans fall? he flicked his eyes to the you cowering standing in the hall. Maybe...Just maybe he could set you up get her to talk ,you was going to be Henry's undoing he knew that. Fuck everyone knew that! Henry was loosing it big time to wrapped up in your sweet little cunt! he only hoped it was worth it. Luke bit his lip shutting the door as the police drove off with the bastard.

This was Luke's out, you was Luke's out and he would be damned if he was going to let this opportunity pass him by. He turned to you and grinned seeing you shaking leaning on the wall completely freaked out.

"He will be fine princess he has bail money" you took unsteady steps out to the foyer again drifting around the corner to rest near a small table by the wall. you gulped trying to calm down before speaking

"B-but was that...they didn't read him his rights does that mean?.." Luke smiled nodding before slowly crossing the large foyer in slow deliberate steps.

"He isn't arrested yet...Just an interview they think they have something...You know with the CIA on him they might...." you gulped and leaned on the wall moving a shaking palm to your hair smoothing it back. Could they? Did they have something?

"Luke..Do you-do you think that he? that this is it?" Luke shrugged slapping his arms back at his sides

"Who knows but FBI CIA even the British lot are on his case and those officers were very cocky...Much cockier then last time I think what ever is happening is big" you panicked whining waving a hand around frantically want answers

"But could he be going inside!?" Luke rolled his eyes at you then fixed you with a snarl

"Heh lets put it this way little one the police don't just come barging into the kings castle and drag him off for nothing" you frowned worrying about what this could mean for you.

"Wh-what should I do? I don't know if- I mean where?" Luke smiled at the panic in your eyes, the small voice you were scared. Good if you thought Henry was going inside there more chance of you throwing him under the bus, Luke planned his next words carefully he needed to fan the flames so to speak. Needs to light a fire under your ass.

"Well you've got a choice abandon ship or go down with the rest of us.."

"What why would I? I haven't done anything" Luke laughed out loud the sound echoing off the huge space mocking you in waves.

"Really? you can't be that naive? your his queen, his lover, your his woman! as far as they are concerned your and accomplice complacent in the shit he has been doing since you got here!"

"What but I'm-I'm not his lover!" Luke mocked you again with a laugh this time louder and more resonating making your heart clench dreadfully tight you felt sick as the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end.

"So you haven't been having sex with him? I didn't catch him eating you out in the kitchen? or you tossing him off the other week in the living room? You didn't sleep with him last night? I hate to tell you this princess but we know, we all know about your fucking BDSM daddy kink! its some fucked up shit! we hear you. I mean what ever floats your boat.. your not exactly quiet~ quite a screamer actually.." Luke smiled seeing you fall for his taunts like he knew you would and held his breath going in for the final blow

"Every one knows your with him even Stephan now knows to"

"What because I chose Henry-" Luke sighed cutting you off with a sly smile

"No because he knows you fucked him last night"

"Stephan what? how did he find-what he got to do?-Oh my god its him isn't it? he has- did Henry do something? or you? what did you do?!" Luke shrugged

"Nothing much we left him alive...Last night was your test...You made Henry happy and we released Stephan he was a little worse for wear but he will live...You know he was devastated when he found out...He thought you were being raped! imagine his face when he was told that it wasn't rape that you wanted Henry and had been fucking him for weeks!...That you chose to fuck your kidnapper rather then get away from him!" you slid down the wall to the floor shocked how did this turn round so fast?! you tried blocking out Luke comments but he just continued to talk he wouldn't shut up.

"He was angry when we let him go...Bitter I think would be the better word..Can't really blame him he loves you...or loved not to sure any more don't think he wants Henry's sloppy seconds if you get my drift, he is gunning for Henry now got a fucked up idea that Henry fucked his bird, but we both know that's not true...Your Henry's now you caved just like everyone around him. I'm leaving in two hours if your coming with me be in the garage waiting..." you looked up at him from the floor tears flooding your eyes making everything blurry you sniffed wiping your nose with the sleeve of Henry's sweater you wore breathing in his calming scent.

"Wh-what do you mean come with y-you what could I possibly do?" Luke smiled cruelly as his plan came together.

"Like I said save yourself or fall with us...One statement is all it would take, one statement on what happened" you frowned at him trying to figure out what he meant.

"What? about last night or.." Luke smiled letting your word hang in the air for a second taking a few steps toward you and laid a hand on your shoulder.

"Anything you think they need to know anything you want to tell them~ if your giving a statement be in the garage when I leave and put on some fucking underwear! don't need your bits out! if not I don't want to hear a peep understand this is adult shit and I don't need a little sex kitten making things worse!" you took a deep breath as Luke moved out of the foyer to the office.

You stayed there for a few seconds before tearing up the stairs to your and Henry's bedroom bawling your eyes out. once there you through yourself on the bed head first sobbing your heart out into the messy covers. Your heart was torn you wanted him here! you wanted Henry and you couldn't understand why the thought of him not being here hurt so bad...You were scared Luke's words haunted and frightened you, if you told the police Henry would be in trouble and would kill you...Would he kill you? you wanted to think he wouldn't but there was doubts...But if you didn't and they found out? would you go to prison yourself, would they say you were apart of it? you cried louder into the covers getting yourself into a state and that was how Kal found you he jumped up on the bed beside you resting his heavy head on your back sighing. You turned your face to the side tears still streaming.

"K-Kal? what do I do?" you moved curling into the huge mass of fur tucking your face into his neck. He didn't seem to mind you crying and snotting all over him he laid there guarding you wanting to snuggle and make you feel better.

What were you supposed to do? should you help him? give a statement to the police bullshit about a love triangle? about an ex who wont let you go?...Even if you thought of a somewhat believable excuse would they buy that? you cringed could you lie to the police? it felt wrong but not as wrong as not having Henry around... And if you did say something would they want you to testify? under oath and what if they found out?...Or you could come clean tell them everything from the second he kidnapped you, that you were terrified to scared to ask for help or reach out..You could be free, free of him and his madness. free to lead your own life again, Independence again! no spankings or or fear or punishments...why did that thought fill you with dread? you didn't enjoy his methods did you?

Yyou sat up sniffling and looked down at kal who was staring at you unblinkingly, he knew something was up. You looked around the room that had slowly become home could you leave this place after everything? leave Kal and this new life you'd just come to terms with?...Could you leave Henry? truly leave him behind bars and carry on with your life?...You frowned as the thought of not being with him made your chest hurt, your stomach clenched and your blood ran cold. You swallowed looking to Kal who was still looking through you. You whispered under your breath admitting out loud to yourself for the first time

"I love him Kal...I love him I-I don't know why but I do..." the dog blinked and army crawled into your lap wagging his tail as you smiled sadly petting him running your finger through his fur drawing patterns on the dogs skin below.

"I would take you with me...If Henry did go to prison...I wouldn't leave you here..But we-I have nowhere to go...Fuck why does this have to be so hard?! I should be jumping for joy! pack my shit and run for the hills... But no...Henry- Daddy won in the end huh Kal...He won I need him don't I? fallen in love with him just like he said I would...I do Kal I really do...But-but if Henry had taught me anything its that life is a game your a player or a pawn" you moved looking to the clock and sighed you must have been lost in your melt down longer then you thought it was nearly time...Luke would be leaving in a few moments.

You took a deep breath making your decision and slowly moved Kal off of you giving the bear a big kiss between his ears then crossed the room to the drawer that held your panties, the ones you were only supposed to use when you were on your period. You opened the drawer slowly with a shaky hand pulling out a pair and slipped them on. You swallowed and steeled yourself. You'd been a pawn for to long. It was time to stand up for what you wanted and come hell or high water these men were going to do as you wanted for once! with that thought you slipped on your dolly shoes that were hidden beneath the bed and ran to the garage as Luke was unlocking the car.

"So little princess got some spine after all~ good choice be stupid not to come on hop in" you nodded and walked to the passenger side and climbed into the range rover taking deep breaths as Luke began to pull away from the house. It was time you got your own way for once and fuck everyone else! Fletcher, Stephan and Henry all manipulated you and now? now Luke was trying his luck...You have lived with Henry; the king of mind games for months...and little Luke thought you’d fall for his shit? did he really think you hadn't learned a thing or two? no more! fuck them. You were not a princess..or a sex kitten...You were a fucking Queen and its about time you acted like one! they were going to play by your rules now because for once you held the cards! you were going to get your way this time!

#henry cavill x reader #mob boss henry cavill #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fic #henry cavill imagine #yandere henry cavill #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x female reader

257 notes · View notes

lovely-little-whumpee · 4 years

Text

Yuliy Morrow - Auction

Okay I finally finished this chapter, I don’t know why it took so long, sorry.

Wordcount: 2.2k

Taglist (let me know if you want to be removed or added): @king-ivory @shigar4kifuck3r @whumphours @whumpzone

Cw: Drugging, human trafficking, non-consensual touching/manhandling, little bit of violence. Please let me know if I’ve missed anything.

Yuliy groaned as he started to regain consciousness, a pounding headache warning him early that it was probably best to go right back to sleep. He’d been getting ready to do just that, when he remembered the events that led to his hurt head -kidnapped-they-took-me-away-they-drugged-me- in the first place. He shot up, only to yelp in pain as his forehead connected with something metal. The headache only got worse, and he felt nausea building in his stomach, though he didn’t know if it were a result of the pain or whatever it was they drugged him with.

Swallowing back the bile Yuliy opened his eyes, catching the sight of a metal lid over top of him, and the metal bars surrounding his sides. He was in a cage, and a rather small one at that. Sitting up—this time being much more successful— he realized that he’d have to stay hunched over or curled in the fetal position to be able to fit inside the small prison. Where was he? Why had he been taken? He tried to remember the words the broad kidnapper had spoken over the phone, but everything was a blurry haze. He couldn’t even remember the faces of his assaulters.

He vaguely remembered the weeping woman, who in retrospect he shouldn’t have approached at all. Hindsight 20/20, Yuliy. Just as he began searching for a weak point in the cage, a door somewhere slammed open, and the lights to the room he was in flicked on. He flinched from the sudden noise and the flooding of the fluorescent lights, hating what they did to his head. He didn’t have the time to lament long before he was taking in as much as he could of his surroundings, what little he could see anyway. Because of the short height of the cage and the lid overtop, Yuliy could only see the bottom half of the room, if that. Still, he did his best to commit it to memory, not knowing whether or not it’d come in handy later on.

“Alright newbie, you’re a bit of a latecomer, so you’re the last one being sold out of this batch.” Wait, what? Yuliy was certain that he’d heard the words wrong, that his headache was making him imagine things. Sold? Him? Why? How?

His tongue sat heavy in his mouth, but he was eventually able to pry it open enough to speak. “Why… why am I here?” He asked, his voice sounding weak and hoarse, his throat dry and feeling like he’d swallowed sandpaper. How long had he been out? The man chuckled, and Yuliy could only see the man’s knees and below, and he doubted he’d see the other’s face for the time he was here.

“Aren’t you a dumb one,” the man snickered, kicking Yuliy’s cage lightly and causing him to flinch as it rocked. “I’ve just told you, have I not? You’re being sold to the highest bidder. With any luck, we’ll never meet again.” The man’s voice sounded so flippant, and Yuliy opened his mouth to yell at him. “And I suggest you don’t speak anymore, unless you want someone to have to come in and gag you,” he threatened. Yuliy decided to ignore him on the off chance that they were close enough to civilization that he’d be heard by someone outside.

“N-no! You can’t keep me here! People will— people are looking for me, right now probably! Just, just let me go!” He shouted, hating the fear in his voice and the way his words caught several times. The man outright laughed, having to take several moments to regain his composure, and Yuliy felt more of that budding fear begin worming its way up his chest.

“You think we didn’t do a little research on you before we grabbed you? You’re Yuliy Morrow, nineteen years old and no remaining family. You live in a rundown apartment in the shadier part of your town. The perfect catch.” Yuliy’s jaw fell slack as the man recited the facts about him, hating how quickly his odds were beginning to fall. “Sad to say this kid, but no one’s gonna look for you.” No, that wasn’t true, was it? Certainly his boss would look for him when he missed work on Monday, right? Maybe his professors would think he’d just dropped out, but perhaps his landlord would check in when he didn’t receive his monthly rent?

Would the trail be cold by the time someone realized he was missing?

Yuliy felt the nausea creeping up once more, and this time, he wasn’t able to swallow it down, and his back hunched from the force of the first retch. By the second, burning stomach acid wormed its way up his throat. By the third, the mouthfuls fell onto his clothes and the floor of the cage. By the fourth, the smell of it hit the air, causing him to cringe in repulsion and try not to retch again. He was unsuccessful, and by the time he was finished, he was gasping for air, his chest burning from the effort.

“Gross kid, I mean we were gonna clean you up anyway, but you didn’t need to go and make our jobs any harder.” Yuliy wanted to curse at the man, to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, and that if they hadn’t kidnapped him in the first place none of this would be happening. The words got caught in his throat though, what with him still heaving for breath an all.

Suddenly, the lid to the cage was pried back, and how hadn’t Yuliy noticed the extra pairs of feet in the room? The vomiting probably had something to do with it. Before he was able to take in anymore than that, Yuliy’s head was wrenched back so hard that he could feel several strands of his hair loosen. A blindfold was then yanked over his eyes -it's-dark-I-can’t-see-what-are-they-going-to-do-to-me- and tied so tightly he groaned from the pain. His world went dark and he wasn’t able to balance properly, though he didn’t know if it was because of the general sluggishness he was feeling or because he wasn’t able to see.

It didn’t matter to the strangers though, as they simply dragged him somewhere for several minutes. Without being able to see anything, Yuliy tried to rely on his other instincts, but he wasn’t practiced in doing so, and really was only able to hear shoes slapping against tile. What did they plan on doing to him? “Please… please just let me go,” he whispered, knowing that his chances were slim but still wanting to try anyway. Even having a one percent chance of getting out of his situation was better than none. Predictably, he hadn’t been answered at all, and he whimpered softly as the hopelessness of his situation continued to crash down on him.

When they finally came to a stop, Yuliy could hardly tell up from down, much less how long they’d been walking or what type of room he was in. He was let go of by one of the bodyguards, but the other grabbed his wrists painfully and cuffed them. Yuliy tried to pull them back to his chest as a layer of protection between him and the invisible man, but a loud clanking sound and thud stopped him. “W-what?” He mumbled, trying to wrap his hands around the object in which his hands were tied to. It felt like a simple metal pole, rather thin but sturdy, as evidenced by it not moving a single inch no matter how hard Yuliy tugged on it.

He only stopped his tugging when he felt hands pulling at his clothes, and then the unmistakable sounding of cutting fabric. He panicked, trying to jerk away but only managing a couple of inches because of the handcuffs. “Get off me! Don’t touch me!” He yelled at the top of his lungs, kicking out blindly but never being able to connect to anything. Without successfully being able to fend off the attacker, Yuliy’s shirt was eventually cut off. Despite his shouting and protests, his jeans were eventually cut off too. He could feel tears forming behind the blindfold because of the invasion -They’re-touching-me-stop-I-don’t-want-you-to-why-are-you-doing-this- and he yelped as the cold air hit his skin, causing the fine hairs on his body to raise.

A gag was suddenly shoved inside his mouth, tied behind his head before he could comprehend much more than what it was. Belatedly he realized that it must’ve been a piece of cloth cut from his clothing. Someone then fisted the hem of his boxers -please-please-don’t-why-can’t-you-just-leave-them- before cutting them off in one smooth motion and in the sudden onslaught of panic and his hyperventilating, Yuliy didn’t realize he’d fallen to the ground, curling in on himself to protect the barest parts of him. The man didn’t care though, and Yuliy heard the turning of a faucet before he was sprayed with a powerful stream of water that was sure to leave bruises.

They hosed him down like he was nothing more than an object, and when they’d finally finished, Yuliy was shaking and sobbing quietly. Something soft was then thrown at him, hitting him in the chest before falling on top of his legs. He’d flinched, having not known what it was before, but now he was simply confused.

“Put it on.” It wasn’t the same man from before speaking, and Yuliy burned in shame and embarrassment at how many people were seeing him so vulnerable, so -naked-they-took-all-my-clothes-and-hosed-me-down-they-all-saw-me-they-still-see-me-naked-they’re-looking-at-me- bare. It took several long minutes— filled with his quiet sniffling and blind fumblings— to find out that it was a pair of boxers they’d thrown at him. He quickly pulled them on, uncomfortable at how well they fit, like they’d known his size beforehand. Still, he wasn’t going to just not wear them. Any covering was better than none.

He was hauled to his feet, and his hands were uncuffed and re-cuffed behind his back. Though he tried to resist, even digging his feet into the concrete, he was still dragged along to another room. Little noises involuntarily bubbled up his throat, but with the gag most of them were almost completely muffled.

Despite being blindfolded, the route they were going down seemed familiar in its length and the amount of turns. Yuliy knew that they were probably throwing him into the same room as earlier for convenience sake. He knew he was right when he was forced into the -too-small-I-can’t-move- cage as before, the metal cold and wet, like they’d hosed it down as they did him. “They show his pictures and information to the crowd yet?” One guard asked another, and Yuliy listened as intently as he could. They were showing people his pictures? What pictures? Had they taken them while he’d been unconscious?

“Yeah, boss said they already started bidding and everything. Say he might be the highest sell tonight.”

“Thank fuck, I’m trying to get home.” Yeah me too, Yuliy thought, but he couldn’t say anything with the gag. With his hands tied behind him, he couldn’t really shift to get comfortable, and his shoulder dug painfully into the hard metal where he lay. Less than before, but still noticeable was the drug that must’ve still been in Yuliy’s system. Either that, or the blindfold was really messing with his perception of time, as it seemed to by quickly after that— which was the opposite of what he wanted.

Eventually enough, the same door as before slammed open, and Yuliy flinched from the noise. “Alright get him prepped for our dear client here.” It was the man from earlier, the one who’d made the initial threat of gagging him. He hadn’t even realized the man had left. Was he the boss the guards were talking about?

The man’s words then dawned on him as he was violently pulled out of the cage, his arm feeling as though it were going to be pulled out of its socket. He screamed and kicked, shouting the words “no”, “stop”, and “please”, most of it muffled and garbled, but the meaning was clear all the same. With his struggling, he managed to get a few hits on the two guards trying to wrestle him down, and then there was a strange limbo where he was suddenly weightless and floating, before gravity came back and he was slammed against the concrete floor, his head cracking painfully on top of it. Oh, that was gonna concuss.

His blindfold slipped up a bit just as he felt the needle pierce his neck with an awful feeling of deja vu. When he glanced over, he saw two men standing by the door, although he didn’t know who was the boss and who was the customer. Which one held his life in their hands? “Alright Bram, he should be out long enough for you to get him home. If you’d like a refund, be sure to contact us within a week, or else it will be void.” The man named Bram didn’t look like he’d heard the other at all though, his eyes never moving from Yuliy.

Bram leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, looking like he owned the place instead of just being a customer. He smirked before he began speaking, eyes boring into Yuliy’s, “Silly pet, you weren’t supposed to see my face yet.”

Oh.

Masterlist

Previous | Next

#whump #pet whump #manhandling #human trafficking #whumpee #Yuliy Morrow #i'm in here whump series #drugging #dehumanization #this is such a mess yikes #whump writing #my writing #we finally get a peek at the whumper #Bram Caddel #emeto

31 notes · View notes

tenspontaneite · 4 years

Text

Cat’s Cradle (Chapter 2/?)

In which Hikaru's life undergoes some rapid adjustments due to the unceremonious entry of a particularly weird cat therein.

(Chapter length: 8.5k. Ao3 link)

---

Hikaru wasn’t entirely sure what he did for the next few minutes. Either way, they concluded with him absolutely blubbering, the rims of his eyes swollen with tears and his cheeks salt-burned and stinging. At some point, the cat – Sai – migrated to his side, and patted at his leg with a white paw. Hikaru looked at the blurry white shape and, caught between at least four different intense emotions, started laughing. It was sort of sobbing at the same time, but the point was, he was laughing. A little hysterically.

“You’re a fucking cat.” He gasped, between uneven bursts of tears and laughter. He had no idea what was going on. What had happened to his life? What had happened to this week? It was going to kill him, honestly.

Sai huffed at him, ears very slightly slanted backwards, and that just set Hikaru’s laugh-crying off even worse. It looked like Sai, was the thing, with that vaguely sulky expression he got when Hikaru was being particularly unreasonable, just…translated to a fuzzy cat face. It was stupid. So stupid.

“A fucking cat.” He said again, utterly unable to get over it. He laughed, and gasped, and caught something approaching a measure of breath. He shuddered, and breathed, and giggled, then breathed again. “Okay.” He muttered, a little more calmly. “…You’re a fucking cat. You’re…” He swallowed back a fresh burst of hysterical tears, then matter-of-factly reached out and pulled Sai-the-cat to his chest. The cat in question made a surprised chirping sound at it, and he was fluffy, and small, and that was so weird when it was Sai. Whenever he’d hugged Sai before, he’d been bigger, and shrouded in so many robes that he was twice the size he should be. “You’re so little.” Hikaru blurted, stupidly, and received a vaguely disgruntled noise for his troubles. He held Sai up to look at him, utterly uncertain what to make of this situation. “You’re a cat.” He said again, for approximately the hundredth time.

Sai made a grumbling murmur that was definitely approaching a growl, and glowered at him. I did notice that, Hikaru, he might have said, if he’d been capable of it. And that was a thing, wasn’t it, Sai was here, and actually alive, though in a thoroughly unexpected form, but he couldn’t even talk now. And…

“I can’t believe you got yourself reincarnated or whatever and you still can’t play your own Go stones.” Hikaru said, and Sai hissed at him, thoroughly displeased. He was probably feeling very salty about the situation as well. But…he had got those first hands onto the goban somehow, hadn’t he? “How did you get the first bit of the game onto the board, anyway?”

Sai’s ears flickered, and then he squirmed easily out of Hikaru’s hands. It was kind of weird, actually – his grip had been pretty firm, but…Sai was unusually strong. Maybe that was how he’d managed to jump nearly to a second-floor window.

The cat padded neatly over to the stack of textbooks Hikaru had noticed earlier, and then moved up to sit on it. Then, very very carefully, he demonstrated how he could very clumsily lodge a stone between two of his toes, holding it in place with the other paw, before putting it back down where it had been. He had to pat it into place once it was on the board, as it had skidded away a little, but…well, he could sort of place stones. He looked up at Hikaru, the expression on his face saying, clear as day, see? I absolutely can place stones, Hikaru, you take that back.

“Consider me told.” He said, giggling again, and for a moment thought it was going to bubble back up into hysterics, but…he sighed, put a hand to his face, and collapsed backwards onto the floor. Sai made an alarmed mow sound, and quickly padded over, staring anxiously down at him from fairly close proximity, given he wasn’t all that tall.

“Maow?” He asked, looking a little worried.

“I can’t believe this.” He said, conversationally. “This is just…fucking nuts. I’d literally just started accepting that you were gone, and now you’re here and you’re a cat.”

Sai offered a thin purr that seemed like it was meant to be comforting, but given he still looked hilariously worried, it was mostly just…funny, and a bit endearing.

“Why did you have to be a cat?” He asked, suddenly a little exasperated. “My mum is allergic to cats.”

The cat meowed sadly, and looked down at him with wide pleading eyes. It was a much more effective expression now that he was a cat.

Hikaru sat up, shaking his head. “I mean, obviously I have to keep you.” He said, and received a happy trill in response. “What? It’s the only option. If I don’t then you either get sold to someone or put in a shelter, or you have to live wild. We’re not letting that happen. Duh.” He said, and Sai’s fur went a bit bristly at the thought. Maybe he’d been worried about that? If he hadn’t been able to get Hikaru to realise who he was…

Hikaru shivered. Yeah, it didn’t really bear thinking about.

“I guess if my mum won’t be okay with you, I’ll have to move out.” He thought, out loud. “It’s not easy to find cheap apartments that allow animals….but I guess I could always just not tell them. You’re not a normal cat, it’s not like you’re going to pee on the walls and scratch the furniture.”

Sai produced a very insulted mrow! At that, which neatly conveyed his thoughts on the matter.

“And yeah, that’s another thing.” Hikaru said, pensively. “You’re not a normal cat. But are you just like that because you’re Sai, or because you’re actually…a bakeneko, or nekomata, or something? Like…I don’t really know much about what those are meant to be able to do. Set things on fire, maybe? Have you noticed any weird powers? I mean, you can jump way higher than normal cats, but…anything else?”

The cat shrugged at him, helplessly. It was a really weird gesture to see on a cat. After a moment, he stood and walked over to the minifridge that Hikaru had in his room but didn’t actually use for the purpose. It was never plugged in so he just used it as storage. It was metal, though, and when Sai held up a paw and extended his claws, Hikaru was definitely watching.

Then, with a horrible screeching sound, Sai proceeded to score several long lines through metal. He retracted the claws and padded back again. “Mow.” He said, a little smugly.

“…Yeah.” Hikaru said, for lack of anything else to say. “Okay.” And this just after Hikaru said that Sai wouldn’t scratch any furniture.

He sat silently for several minutes, mind working furiously over all of the implications. So far Sai could jump stupidly high and scratch metal, but he was still pretty young. Would he gain any other weird abilities? Would Shimura be weird about letting Hikaru have him? Would his mother be weird about letting Hikaru have him? How would he and Sai communicate, when he couldn’t talk? How would Hikaru have to care for him? What did Sai even eat, anyway? Cat food? That seemed…demeaning.

In the end, Hikaru leant to the side and fished around in his backpack for a pen, and then tore off a bit of notepaper from one of his notebooks. He scrawled a quick note on it – ‘Figured out what’s up with this cat, I need to talk to you about him tomorrow.’ He figured there wasn’t any need to sign it. He set it aside, and gestured at it. “I’ll want you to take that to Shimura tonight when you go back, and then…I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

He could have done it today, but…frankly, he was feeling pretty emotionally exhausted right now.

He shook his head and sighed. “You’re a pain in the backside, Sai.” He said, finally, and the cat grumbled at him. “But, you know what…let’s just finish this game. We’ll figure everything out later.”

And so Hikaru sat down with a cat to play Go. It was absolutely fucking ridiculous. He also had to stop several times throughout to weep into his arm a little, usually corresponding to the most archetypal Sai-like moves, but he thought he could be excused for that. Predictably, Hikaru lost.

He’d never in his life been so overjoyed at such a crushing defeat.

----

“Hi, kid.” Shimura greeted him at the door, and waved him in. “I got your note. You said you figured out what’s up with the demon cat?”

“Yeah, I did. Where is he?”

“Just in the next room. There’s no point trying to keep him cooped up when he’s that smart.” Just then, Sai apparently heard his voice, because there was a loud and excited string of chirruping cat-sounds, and then he was practically sprinting through the doorway to weave around Hikaru’s feet, feathery white tail held high. He was bright-eyed and seemed exceptionally cheerful. The neighbour raised an eyebrow at the sight, which meant it was apparently unusual.

Hikaru stared at him for a second, the surreality of it being Sai occurring to him once again. “Hi, Sai.” He said, grinning reflexively just at being able to say that. “You alright?”

The cat nodded happily, then skipped away into the next room, stopping to look behind him to make sure Hikaru was following. Obediently, Hikaru moved forwards, Shimura trailing after him.

“Sai?” The man asked, curiously.

“That’s his name. It’s part of what I’ve got to talk to you about, anyway.” Hikaru nodded, and went to sit beside Sai on the part of the sofa he’d migrated to.

Shimura made a token attempt at offering refreshments, but his hospitality instincts clearly weren’t very strong, and he readily accepted Hikaru’s hand-wave without any fuss. He settled on the armchair and eyed Sai curiously. “Weird to see you so cheerful.” He said, to the cat, who deliberately turned his nose up in the air as he curled into Hikaru’s side. Shimura snorted and looked up at his first. “Well then, out with it. What’s up with this unholy thing my cats produced?” Sai did not seem to appreciate that wording, ears flicking back and eyes narrowing with distaste.

“Okay.” Hikaru took a breath. “So, it turns out this cat is actually someone I know, reincarnated. That’s why he’s been following me around.”

Shimura stared. And stared. He looked between Hikaru and the cat. “Are you fucking with me?” He asked, eventually. “That seems very damn unlikely.”

“I’m not fucking with you.” He assured. “I’d actually been, you know, mourning him. Because a few months ago he just…disappeared. But it’s definitely him.”

Shimura looked at Sai. Sai nodded. “…Well, damn.” He said, finally. “I guess it’s not any more unlikely than his impossible genetics. You know I had him tested? A few weeks in it was damn obvious he was growing too fast, so I sent off some samples.”

Hikaru looked at Sai curiously, as though he’d expected the cat to tell him about it. “Really? That’s cool. Was there anything weird?”

“Ha.” Shimura barked, and leaned back in his chair. “That cat, according to his DNA, is meant to be short-tailed, short-furred, with a blue blotched tabby pattern and white marks, and amber eyes. I thought I’d somehow sampled the wrong cat at first, but nope. Instead of how he’s meant to look, he’s…that.” He gestured at Sai, who remained long-tailed, long-furred, and utterly white all over. “I’m pretty sure he’s got extra vertebrae in his tail, too. He won’t sit still long enough for me to count them, but that tail is too fucking long to be normal.”

“Is it?” Hikaru asked, looking at Sai. The tail in question swished to the side. “I wonder if you’re going to grow another one, Sai.” The cat looked distinctly uncomfortable at the thought, and curled his single extant tail tightly around himself.

“I think nekomata tails sort of start splitting at the end until they’re two tails.” Shimura interjected. “He could just be a bakeneko, though.”

“I don’t really know the difference.” Hikaru admitted, and Sai looked up inquisitively, as if he was curious as well.

“Yeah, well, when you’ve got a cat like that, you research cat demons.” Shimura said, shrugging. “Both of those types have been mentioned with weird abilities, like standing upright, and talking-“ Sai looked very excited at that- “-and sometimes even shapeshifting-“ Sai actually trilled. “-but nekomata are a bit different. They're the ones with two tails, they’re meant to have fire and necromancy powers, and they’re pretty much always evil.”

Sai produced a very displeased hiss. Shimura ignored him.

Hikaru snorted. “Sai doesn’t have it in him to be evil. And if he did all you'd need to do is show him a frog and he'd give up right there.” The cat looked tremendously wounded at that.

Shimura grinned. “What, he doesn’t like frogs?”

“He hates them,” Hikaru assured, ignoring the betrayed meow at his side. “Anything that even looks a bit like a frog turns him into a complete mess, it’s hilarious.”

Sai hissed at him, just slightly, but on account of him being so small and fuzzy it wasn’t particularly threatening. Even though he could scratch through metal.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind, if he acts up.” Shimura's amused grin flattened somewhat, becoming a wry and slanted half-smile. “So the cat's supposedly your dead friend. How do you know he’s not just...brainwashing you, or something, to make you think that?”

Hikaru stared, and actually thought about it. He didn’t have any doubts, of course, not since the game. But someone who didn’t play Go wouldn’t get that, really. He tried anyway. “We played a game of Go. There’s no one else in the world that plays like he does.” He shrugged, leaning back.

Shimura cast him a sceptical look.

“Trust me, anyone who’s really good at Go would agree. This cat is the best player in Japan.” He gestured at Sai, who sort of drew himself up in a very regal manner. His body language was somehow even more expressive now that he was a cat.

“...Well, if you say so.” Shimura said, finally. “It doesn’t matter that much to me. You’re going to be taking him off my hands, right?”

Hikaru, who had sort of been biding his time and waiting for the right moment to bring that up, blinked. He nodded warily. “Sai’s important.” He said, uneasy, and automatically settled a hand onto white fur as though to shield it from view. “I...can't really let him go anywhere except with me. And...I know that’s kind of awkward, because...”

“Because he’s a cat I bred and therefore legally own?” Shimura suggested, voice mild.

Sai's ears flattened straight back, and he hissed. Not quietly, or hesitantly. His fur rose just enough to bristle at Hikaru’s skin.

He winced, and said “He's a person, not an animal, and just because – look, I’ll...buy him, or whatever, if I have to. I don’t know how much fancy cats are meant to cost,” he paused, long enough for Shimura to name a somewhat hair raising figure. “...and yeah, I could afford that, especially now I’m working again, but...” He looked at Sai, still sitting angry at the implication of ownership. “It’s not right. I’ll pay if I have to, I’m not letting him end up...somewhere else...but.” He stopped, at a loss for words.

Shimura sighed, and raised a hand as though to forestall any more words. “Yeah, kid, I get you.” He said, wearily. “Feels a bit too much like being a slave owner to ask for money for him. Besides, even if I were a shittier person, holding a demon hostage for money sounds like a great way to get myself in deep supernatural shit.”

Sai settled a bit, ears outwards rather than flattened back, but his eyes were narrow and resentful. Hikaru glanced at him, and then back at Shimura, feeling reluctantly optimistic. “...So....?” He ventured.

“So, you can take the bloody cat.” He said, and Hikaru’s breath came out almost explosively. “I’ll give you his fucking pedigree and everything, not that it’ll be much good to you. Don’t you have to check with your parents before you take a cat home, though?”

“I already decided that I’ll just move out if my mum doesn’t let Sai stay.” Hikaru said, hoping desperately that that wouldn’t come to pass. “I might have to, but if I do I can afford it.” Provided he kept winning games, at least.

Shimura eyed him dubiously. “Well, that’s dedication, which I always like to see.” He said, finally. “But aren’t you a bit young to be moving out? How old even are you, twelve?”

“Fourteen.” Hikaru corrected, a little balefully, and received a dismissive noise in response. “And it’s not too weird for young pros. A friend of mine moved out a good while ago. If I need to I’ll do it.”

“Hmph. If you say so.” He sat back. “Your family not like cats or something?”

“It’s mostly that my mum’s allergic.” He shrugged uneasily, and Sai pressed against his side.

“...Well, in all likelihood, you could call him hypoallergenic.”

Hikaru looked up, startled. “What does that mean?”

“Means he might set off allergies less than normal. Even if his body works the same as a normal cat for allergenic purposes, he doesn’t wash himself like a normal cat does, and the thing people are usually allergic to in cats is a protein in the saliva.”

“Er.” Hikaru looked down at Sai, whose ears flattened very slightly. He looked away as if embarrassed. “So what, people get allergic to cats because cats lick the thing all over their fur?”

“Pretty much. It’s produced in the skin as well, but the main source is the saliva, which is groomed into the fur. And he doesn’t do that, which makes more sense if he used to be human, I suppose. So you’ll have to brush his fur daily and maybe bathe him sometimes to keep him clean.” Shimura snorted. “He doesn’t seem to mind warm water too much, at least, but he was not happy with me washing him. Maybe he’ll tolerate you better.”

Hikaru stared, a thread of insistent hilarity trying to squirm out of him at that knowledge. He kept quiet for a few seconds as he tried desperately not to laugh, then cleared his throat. “Well, I’ll tell my mum he’s...hypoallergenic? Hypoallergenic.” He glanced sideways at Sai and tried desperately not to giggle. Sai eyed him back, clearly disgruntled.

Shimura shrugged. “Well, good luck, kid.” He said, leaning back. “I can host him for you till you sort out your situation or whatever. Hope the talk goes well.”

Hikaru could get behind that sentiment.

But, unfortunately, the talk did not go well.

---

Mitsuko listened long enough to hear ‘hypoallergenic' and was not especially impressed, and she listened long enough to hear ‘I'll pay for feeding him myself’ which she could at least vaguely approve of, but when Hikaru started on ‘Shimura-san said I can have him ' and ‘if it's a big problem I can just move out ' she had decidedly had enough.

“Hikaru.” She said, firmly and decisively enough that his jaw clicked shut automatically. “You stay here. I'm going to talk to Shimura-san about this.”

His eyes went wide and he tried to protest “Wait no, you don’t need to-“

She shot him a look, and he fell mutinously silent. She wasn’t certain he wouldn’t just follow her the instant she shut the door, but she could live with that. “I’ll be back in a while.” She said, and left with the contents of her usual handbag to commence the journey to the neighbour.

Generally speaking, Mitsuko was the very picture of a polite and demure Japanese housewife, just as in her youth she had generally been the picture of a demure and obedient daughter. One would not think her the sort to harbour any sort of temper. One would be wrong. One would be very, very wrong.

Mitsuko held the reins of that well-hidden, well-contained, and utterly vindictive temper very carefully indeed as she knocked on the neighbour's door. When it opened, and she recognised Shimura-san, she smiled politely. She thought that, from his sudden wariness, her ire was exactly as close to the surface as she wished it to be.

“Shimura-san,” she said, pleasantly, without a trace of antipathy, and yet still somehow making the man warier. “I would be interested in discussing why my son has just told me that you offered him a cat, and I would be especially interested in hearing why he seems to think that moving out is a perfectly acceptable option for being able to keep that cat.”

He stared at her for several long seconds, expression turning distinctly weary and satisfyingly resigned. She waited patiently. Finally, he said “I’ll happily invite you in to talk, Shimura-san. But please be aware the house might not be good for your allergies.”

Mitsuko nodded curtly, noting that Hikaru had apparently informed the man of her cat allergy. “I should be perfectly fine, but thank you for your concern.” She answered, and allowed herself to be invited in, and accepted an offer of tea from her host as she settled in the sitting room. She inspected her surroundings while she waited, noting that there were traces of cat hair everywhere and that she could already feel the tickle of it in her throat, the itchiness around her eyes. She would cope.

Movement flickered in the corner of her eye. She turned, and saw just the hint of a wide-eyed and familiar feline face disappearing around the corner of a doorway. She watched to see if it would reappear, but it didn’t. In the end Shimura-san returned with her green tea and she accepted it graciously, sipping politely as he took a seat in the armchair.

“...So.” the man said, when she had been regarding him with a heavy and expectant gaze for several seconds. “I get the impression your son didn’t tell you everything.”

Mitsuko blinked, and found herself off-balance. “...Why do you say so?” she questioned, faltering from her steady ground of maternal indignation.

“I get the impression you'd have started on a different topic if he had, is all.” The man answered, and she eyed him a little disapprovingly.

“Hikaru certainly isn’t the most open child. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had failed to mention something.” She agreed after a moment. “But I have difficulty seeing what could change the fact of the matter, which is your offering an animal to my son, who knows full well he isn’t allowed it.”

“The cat isn’t just a cat.” Shimura-san said, frankly and without hesitation. “Forgive me for how ridiculous this sounds, but he’s a fully intelligent supernatural creature that has befriended your son.”

Mitsuko sat, utterly still, and felt so incredulous that it bubbled up into a simmering anger, hissing as though water in a kettle. “Shimura-san, I have never heard anything less believable in my life, and I wonder that you think it acceptable to say such things.” She said, voice utterly icy. Was this what he had been saying to Hikaru? Her eyes narrowed into visible distaste and she didn’t try to stop them.

“I have proof.” The man said, and...he didn’t sound bothered at all. She stared at him, noting how he still looked tired, still looked resigned, but somehow perfectly confident regardless. She would have expected at least an ounce of contrition from him, at least some trace, but there was none. He spouted such ridiculous words and was utterly shameless as they passed his lips. It was almost outrageous. “Plenty of it.”

She eyed him silently, wishing very strongly to put aside the stupidity of humouring him. “Oh?” she asked instead, very unimpressed, and waited to see what he would say.

“The cat himself is a physical impossibility. I can explain the reasons why, if you want. There’s quite a few.”

“Please, by all means.” Mitsuko prompted coldly.

Shimura-san nodded, and sat back. “You’ve seen him around, I think? He's a white cat with blue eyes, large ears, a long tail, and a wholly different body type and face to either of his parents or ancestors for at least five generations. Some of that could have been random chance, like the long tail. The coat and eye colour though are actually not possible, genetically.” He seemed to consider his words for a moment, apparently disregarding her disapproving stare. “It's not possible, considering his parents, for him to be a completely white cat and have blue eyes. That just is plain impossible, it’s not something that can happen naturally, because of how white coats work with cats.”

He paused, as if to give her an opening to speak, and she accepted it. “I don’t claim to know much about genetics, Shimura-san. But I understand it’s possible for random mutations to happen sometimes. Surely this cat could simply be a unique case.” She suggested, not convinced in the least.

His lips quirked upwards at the edges, as though amused. “I wondered the same thing, at first.” He said, and shrugged. “Which is one of the reasons I sent off his blood to be tested in a lab.” He met her suddenly uncertain eyes with the same tired confidence, even nonchalance, he’d been maintaining the whole time. “It was expensive, but – Shindou-san, please understand this: that cat looks nothing like his DNA says he should, which is completely and utterly impossible. If he were just a random mutation we would see that in the blood. Instead, he’s running around looking like he is despite the tests suggesting he should be just like his siblings. Which, by the way, he is now about three times the size of.”

Her brow furrowed, and she blinked. “...What?” she said, dubiously. “He didn’t seem very large when I saw him.”

“I mean he’s growing more quickly than a cat should.” The man elaborated. “He looks like he’s over twice his actual age. And rapid ageing of that kind is another completely impossible and unheard of thing.”

She stared for a long moment, and sighed. “Look, Shimura-san, you have to understand how ridiculous this sounds.” She did not outright say ‘I think you’re possibly insane and I don’t trust any evidence you care to show me’, but she thought the implication was in the words regardless.

He hummed, still unbothered, and glanced briefly to the doorway. “Well, it’s true, me telling you this stuff isn’t going to be all that convincing. If you want proper proof, you should just talk to him.”

Mitsuko eyed him dubiously. “Talk...to the cat.”

The man smiled wryly at her. “He can’t talk properly, but he can nod and shake his head and all. I’ll let him convince you.” She opened her mouth to protest, but stopped, seeing a white shape appear around the doorframe in that very moment, as though summoned. It was the same white cat, young and graceful, with startling blue eyes. It lingered in the doorway nervously, ears held outwards and tail lashing slowly. Following her gaze, Shimura-san looked over and saw it. “Hah. You were listening in, were you? He asked, and it was very plain that he was asking the cat.

The cat straightened, almost haughtily, and then stepped carefully into the room. It looked up at her, and approached at a slow and sedate pace until it was a bare metre from her legs. Then, in a motion too deliberate to be mistaken, it bowed. Bowed. Mitsuko stared, and suppressed the impulse to bow back.

She looked up at the neighbour, who only gestured expectantly at the cat. She couldn’t shake the odd suspicion that he was playing some ridiculous joke, that he was waiting for her to talk to the cat and then laugh at how he'd fooled her. But surely there was no reason for him to do such a thing, even if he was insane.

Finally, she swallowed the self- consciousness, and conceded to the attempt. “Cat-san,” she said, very dubiously. “I am told you are intelligent.”

The cat...nodded. suddenly she felt a little light-headed. She reminded herself that nodding was well within the scope of behaviours an animal could be trained into.

“You’ll forgive me if I need to confirm that. I’d like to test this.” She told the cat, as if she believed it were possible for a cat to fully understand the speech of a human. The cat nodded again, and she decided that she absolutely would not be relying on a cat's head movements for something like this. “Please tap your left paw four times on the floor.” She requested, and waited.

She expected the cat to nod, or to do nothing, or perhaps even to shake its head, as Shimura-san had indicated it knew how to do that. She did not for a moment believe the ridiculous concept of a random housecat being a supernatural and highly intelligent creature. She expected everything except that which actually happened: the cat raised its left paw, tapped it on the flooring, and then did it thrice more.

Mitsuko went utterly still. Shimura-san, for his part, didn't comment, or move. He only watched with interest.

The cat watched her, too. Its blue eyes were utterly uncanny. Too intelligent. Too aware. Too focused.

But that was ridiculous. She inhaled quickly, and huffed her breath out again. “Your fur is black,” she said abruptly, and the cat and neighbour blinked at her with confusion. “If that is true, nod your head. If false, shake your head.”

The cat shook its head. Her pulse quickened, shocked again, but she couldn’t believe it. Surely, surely, it was a fluke. Somehow, it wasn’t significant. It wasn’t true.

“The weather today is very cloudy. Stand up if true, or tap your paw three times if false.” She instructed, and couldn’t help but inhale at how the cat craned its neck to the window as if to make sure. The cat tapped a paw three times, and indeed, the sky outside was perfectly clear.

It couldn’t be real. Couldn’t be true. She gave the cat instruction after instruction, even had it jump up onto a chair to make sure it was a real animal with a proper range of natural motion, and got more and more desperate to find some way to deny what was right in front of her. She did not believe in such fantastical things. She didn’t.

“Tell me, Cat-san, do you know basic mathematics?” she questioned, and looking startled, the cat nodded. So she presented fingers on her hand and had the cat tap out the number, had the cat tap its paw for the solutions to basic addition and subtraction and finally there just wasn’t any denying it any longer.

Mitsuko sat back in the chair and rubbed at her itching eyes, and didn't say anything for at least a minute. Finally, Shimura-san ventured to speak.

“Has he convinced you yet?” The man asked, and the cat looked up at her expectantly, as if asking the same thing. Well? Its face seemed to ask. Are you convinced?

She looked back at the cat, her emotions rendered quiescent and muffled by what felt like a thick blanket of shock. She wasn’t certain what to think. “God help me, I think he has.” She admitted, exhaling carefully, and noted the way the cat and man both seemed to relax. What a preposterous situation. Surely she was dreaming. She sighed again and glanced up to meet the neighbour’s eyes. “I still don’t understand, though, why the cat being a supernatural intelligent creature is reason for you to offer him to Hikaru.”

“Oh, right.” Shimura-san said in tones of sudden comprehension, as though he had forgotten to mention something critical, which might well be the case. “Yeah, sorry. So it turns out this cat was so obsessed with your son because he’s actually a friend of his reincarnated, or something.”

The words hit Mitsuko like a blow to the stomach. Her eyes widened and her hand rose to her mouth, shocked far more by that than even the undeniable intelligence of the cat. Said cat, now looking decidedly anxious, crouched down a little as if he wanted to hide. “A-“ She started, faintly, and looked at the cat. “A friend of his – but – surely that means-“ She stopped, aghast, the unfinished sentence playing out behind her teeth: surely that means a friend of his must have died.

“He told me he’d been in mourning recently. Don’t know if you knew anything about that.” Shimura-san looked sympathetic now, for all the good it did her. She couldn’t quite come to terms with the words, but – it made sense. It made so much sense.

It had been so sudden. Hikaru had run off to visit some place or the other and when he came back…he’d been so different. So subdued, as though all the life had drained out of him. He’d stopped playing Go, stopped going to his matches, stopped meeting his friends…as though someone had reached out and switched off the vivacity and passion and enthusiasm he’d once held. She hadn’t known what to think. He wouldn’t talk about it, wouldn’t talk to her, or even Akari-chan. He wouldn’t talk, but-

“He was grieving.” She murmured to herself, utterly stricken, and felt pain well up in her chest at the thought of what he’d been suffering, alone, without even a word to her about what he was going through. She wondered who it was that had died. Not Isumi-san, of course, but what of his other Go friends? Was it someone she had met, or heard of? Was it someone she hadn’t? She looked down at the cat, and wondered who it was sitting there.

It should have taken more thought, to accept that an apparently unnatural cat bore the reincarnated soul of one of her son’s friends. She had doubted the concept of the cat himself so much, so why not this? But…

Hikaru had been grieving. Of course he had. Of course that was what she’d been missing.

“I think I need to speak with my son.” She said, quietly, and rose from the chair. She suppressed a sneeze as the motion disturbed the air, bringing who-knew how many allergens into her system as she breathed. “Please excuse me.”

“Seems like he’s kept a lot from you.” The man nodded, and he did seem very understanding. “Good luck.”

“Thank you.” Mitsuko allowed herself to be shown out to the door, head reeling and heart aching, and swept her eyes quickly over the street. By some small mercy, Hikaru hadn’t followed to eavesdrop, or if he had he’d already abandoned the effort. She strode quickly across the road to the not-so-distant door of her home, turned the key in the door-

Hikaru rose from his chair the instant she entered, faltering half-standing as he looked at her. There was something heartbreakingly uncertain in his expression, something anxious and afraid. She wasn’t sure when she’d last seen him looking so vulnerable. He hid so much from her.

Before he could say anything, she crossed the space between them in a few steps and pulled him into her arms. He was so tall now. But he tensed as she embraced him, then trembled oddly, air escaping him in what felt like a failed attempt at speaking. “I wish you’d told me,” She whispered, every word hurting. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it. You were grieving and I didn’t see it.”

He shook in her arms. “He…” His voice broke off at the first word. He swallowed and tried again. “What did he – what did he tell you?”

“A lot of things that we’ll have to discuss.” She said, as gently as she could. “But the most important thing to me is what he said about you. You lost someone, Hikaru? That’s why you’ve been so withdrawn these past months?”

Her son sniffed, like he was trying not to cry. He always had been an emotional boy, even when he grew older and started trying to pretend he was untouchable. He felt things so strongly. “…Yeah.” He said, in a very small voice.

Mitsuko exhaled, her heart breaking for him all over again. She raised a hand to stroke carefully over his hair. “I’m so very sorry for you, Hikaru. There’s nothing worse than losing someone you love.” She carefully did not think of her own losses, long since buried and mourned.

He didn’t answer. But the trembling was response enough.

She drew back from him enough to look at his face, at the green eyes held averted as if he were afraid of meeting her gaze. He’d not said anything about what he’d been going through, and had just…suffered, alone, with her helpless to understand him and not knowing what to do. Part of her wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him for that, demand to know why he hadn’t just trusted her, but…

She exhaled, closed her eyes briefly, and tried to distance herself from her own hurt. Yes, she was upset that he’d not trusted her. But she knew what her son was like – if she confronted him about it, that would more or less guarantee he’d never come to her about his emotional issues ever again. He was already far too secretive and evasive, he didn’t need her exacerbating the problem.

…he’d confided in a stranger about something he’d not told her, his own mother, for god’s sake – but no, no, it wouldn’t do her any good to get angry or upset about it…

Instead of speaking any of the hundred hurt or indignant things that wanted to pass her lips, Mitsuko breathed, and then asked “What’s his name?”

Her son peered at her, in a sort of quick there-then-not flick of his eyes to hers. “…Huh?” He expressed, apparently stupefied by the circumstances or the question or both.

“Your friend.” She clarified. “That you lost. Who is…a cat now, apparently. What is his name?”

“Oh.” Hikaru blinked, looking vulnerable and almost shy. “Um.” He cleared his throat, with a sort of daunted expression that implied he wasn’t quite keeping up with the conversational turns, and would need to sit down and do a lot of processing later. “…Sai.” he said, in the end, and – that wasn’t the name of any of the friends she’d met, was it? So why did it sound so familiar? “He’s called Sai.”

“…Sai.” Mitsuko repeated, as if tasting the name, and wondered where she’d heard it. “No family name?” Did the reincarnated cat have a bereaved family out there? Should she be trying to convey him to them? Although…if the cat had been ‘talking’ with her son, and he wanted to return to his family, surely he would have been able to communicate that?

But if the cat had no bereaved family, then what did that mean? Had Hikaru befriended an orphaned child without telling her about it? Had he befriended some sort of street child, or young criminal? That would certainly account for her having never been told about him before…

“…Fujiwara.” Her son admitted, breaking through her runaway thoughts, and she blinked at him. Processed the name, and nodded. It was a standard enough family name, so why did Hikaru look almost guilty? Like he was getting away with something?

Perhaps the street child theory had some credence to it after all.

“How did you meet him?” She asked him, in the end, as politely and non-intrusively as possible. “I don’t believe I ever met him while he was…ah…alive, did I?”

Hikaru looked positively constipated at that. “Er….no, you didn’t. I, um….” He appeared to be gathering his wits, or his words, or something for several seconds. He squared his shoulders, not meeting her eyes, and eventually admitted “I met him a couple years ago. He’s…actually why I started playing Go.”

…Oh.

Mitsuko absorbed that, mentally downgrading the likelihood of her street child theory, and said “I see. Is he good at Go, then?”

“…Way better than I am.” Her son agreed, still looking shifty, like he was hiding something. And wasn’t that something, that her son the professional Go player willingly admitted to such a disparity in skill between him and his friend? This ‘Sai’ must truly be a talented player. In that case, it seemed unlikely he’d have been a street child, or some other variety of unfortunate or wastrel. She couldn’t imagine it being likely for someone in such diminished circumstances to have the opportunity to learn so much. “That’s actually how I figured out the cat was him. We…played a game, and I recognised his Go.”

She somehow hadn’t thought to wonder about that. “Oh my. I see.” She said in the end, uncertain how else to respond. She didn’t know the first thing about the game, but she supposed…modes of playing must be somewhat recognisable, then? Like an art style? “Honestly, Hikaru, I’m just barely managing to convince myself that this isn’t all a dream.” She admitted after a moment, recalling the intensely surreal experience of proving the cat’s sapience.

Hikaru actually choked out a laugh at that, and shook his head. “Me too.” He confided, and she met his eyes, and they shared a moment of utter bemusement at the circumstances of their lives.

The moment could only last so long, though. And then the problems of reality were pressing at her, and her mind went off again, wondering, wondering… “Where do you imagine this going from here, Hikaru?” She asked eventually, because the way this had started had been her son trying to negotiate for the entrance of this decidedly supernatural cat into their household.

He blinked at her, startled, and shifted uneasily. “Well…I was thinking Sai could just…move in with us?” he said, in the tones of a question. “I mean – he’s a cat, it’s not like he can be a Japanese citizen and get a job and his own house, and – yeah.”

Mitsuko eyed her son, and tentatively asked what she’d been dying to for half of the conversation. “And…he doesn’t have family he could go to? No other Fujiwara-san who are mourning him?”

Hikaru’s shoulders hunched. He carefully avoided her eyes. “…No.” he said, and despite the fact that he was obviously hiding something, that sounded truthful. “I’m pretty much the only person he has.”

If anything set off alarm bells in her mind, it was that. Though she wasn’t sure if the alarm was on behalf of her son or his obviously tragic friend. Or perhaps both.

But what to do about this? If the cat were genuinely a person, which evidence seemed to point to, consigning him to live the life of a regular cat – as property, with no dignity or autonomy – would be an appalling thing to do. He needed to live with someone who recognised his sapience and wouldn’t abuse their legal authority over him. And if the cat – Sai – had this evident personal connection to her son…then wouldn’t that make him the best choice to assume that responsibility?

But Hikaru was only a child. Responsibility for an entire not-quite-human being seemed a heavy thing to allow him to put on his shoulders. But…oh…wouldn’t that still be better than the depression he’d endured these last months, in the midst of his grief?

…Couldn’t they find someone else to host the cat? Someone close enough that Hikaru could visit with him, as he must have done when Sai was alive? The idea of what was essentially adopting another child into her household was not a very comfortable one. Even if the child was cat-shaped, and wouldn’t require schooling or clothing or whatever else. Would he complain about his bedtime? Would he be picky with his food? Would he track mud through the house? The more she thought about it, the more aghast she was at the idea.

“…It would be one thing if he was actually a cat,” Mitsuko said, eventually, deeply uncertain. “But this is a person, Hikaru. You’re asking me to take another person into the household. That’s…quite a thing to ask.”

“He won’t get in the way.” Hikaru assured her hopefully. “He won’t need much. You can just pretend he’s not there, he won’t mind.”

….she hoped that was just her son trying to convince her any way he could think of, rather than something indicative of how his friend had experienced life as a human. She tried desperately not to label this cat as an abused child, because that would make her feel protective and far too sympathetic, and then all her reservations would crumble in a second flat. “It doesn’t work that way, Hikaru.” She told her son, in the end. “If I accept him into the house, knowing that he is a person, I have a responsibility to treat him like a person. To care for him and his upkeep. His medical bills, such as they might be – we’d need to find a vet.” She shook her head, daunted at the thought. Animal medical costs would not be covered by her insurance, that was for certain.

“Then let me handle that stuff.” Hikaru returned, stubbornly, arms crossing. She eyed the set of his jaw and the line of his shoulders and acknowledged with an internal sigh that her son had well and truly dug his heels in. She lifted her hand to her head, rubbing briefly at her temples. She didn’t speak for a moment, which Hikaru took as a cue to keep talking. “If he needs a vet, I’ll find one, and pay for him. I’ll pay for his food and stuff too, if that’s a problem. I’m not really doing anything with my income, so I can.”

Mitsuko lifted her head, and regarded him silently. He was…extremely resolved about this. He’d sink his wages into caring for this cat who’d once been a human friend, and not even hesitate about it. How much of an impact must that death have had? Certainly, enough to amputate him from all joy and passion for months on end… “It’s very commendable of you to go that far, Hikaru.” She said, eventually. “But is it really your job to care for him?”

Hikaru looked at her with his brow furrowed. “Who else is supposed to do it?” He asked, as if he were genuinely curious.

No parents. No family. “Shimura-san?” She suggested, half-heartedly.

He made a face, but didn’t immediately dismiss it out of hand, as if he were actually trying to think about a good reason to refuse. That was another extremely potent sign of how much he cared about this. “He’d probably do it.” He admitted, reluctantly, after a while. “But I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t be happy about it, and Sai…” He trailed off.

Mitsuko’s lips pursed. No, she had to admit, it could do no child good to live in a home where he was unwanted. Even if that child did happen to be a cat now.

Hikaru had already shaken his head and kept talking. “Anyway, I kind of don’t see the point. I’ll just move out and take him with me eventually anyway. You could stop me from doing that now, you know, because you’re my parent and everything.” He sounded sullen at the admission. “But you couldn’t stop me once I turned eighteen.”

Despite herself, she was almost a little fascinated at this display from her son. Being obstinate was normal for him, true, but…the forethought? The steely resolve? He wasn’t afraid to tell her that, with or without her permission, he’d be taking his friend in eventually. “That’s true.” She said, mildly.

He eyed her suspiciously, as though not sure what to think of that agreement. “So, the only reason you can really have for not wanting to take him in is if you don’t want the…responsibility, or whatever, of having an extra guy around.” He told her, almost challengingly. “And if it’s just that, then you let me move out with him, and it’s fine.”

“What if I wanted my son to live with me while he’s still a child, but didn’t want to take in another child?” She wondered, almost curious now. Hikaru twitched at that, and stared at her with a sort of narrow-eyed confusion that didn’t seem to match what she’d said, but rapidly rallied himself.

“Then you’d suck, because you’d be making Sai live somewhere he doesn’t want to be for years for no reason.” He informed her.

Involuntarily, she smiled. It seemed to perplex her son greatly.

“What?” he demanded, wary.

“You’re being a very caring and protective friend to this Sai of yours, Hikaru.” She said, and he stared at her, nonplussed. “While it’s a little inconvenient for me, under the present circumstances, I can’t help but be proud of you for it.”

He reddened, shoulders hunching, and didn’t quite seem to know what to do with the praise. She patted him on one of those shoulders, and sighed.

Just to be sure, she took a few moments to stare off to the side, thinking it all over again. But, inconvenient as it might be, her conclusions didn’t change. She sighed again, and felt the weight of stress settling into her bones. There was nothing to be done.

Ultimately, the only choice which didn’t involve accepting the cat-friend into her house involved standing in her son’s way, and obstructing him for years, and in the process putting an innocent person into a potentially very unpleasant situation. Knowing her son, she didn’t expect him to meekly accept her ruling, either. Three years under those circumstances could breed an untold amount of resentment between them, and he certainly wouldn’t make it easy for her. As a mother, and as a person, she only really had the one option.

“I have little idea how much of an issue my allergies might be,” she started, and watched Hikaru’s head jerk up, a cautious light in his eyes. “And little idea how the needs of a supernatural cat might differ from a normal one. If there are any problems…or he proves very expensive to house…I might have to reassess. But for the time being-“

“You’re going to let me keep him?” Her son blurted, incredulous, looking utterly stunned about the whole thing. Almost insultingly so, actually. Of course she won’t listen, that expression seemed to say. Of course she won’t understand. It troubled her, more than a little, that Hikaru apparently thought so little of…her willingness to compromise? Her receptiveness? She wasn’t sure, but she didn’t like it.

Instead of saying any of that, Mitsuko sighed at him again. And said “We’ll certainly give it a try, Hikaru. I…don’t think I can be a parent to this friend of yours. But it would be very unkind of me to deny him shelter in his unusual situation.”

Hikaru had made a very weird face at the word ‘parent’, but didn’t address it. Instead, he held mute and stunned for several moments more, watching her face as though scanning for any sign of duplicity. When at last he was satisfied-

He seemed almost as surprised as she did when he darted forwards and hugged her, arms tight around her middle. He seemed almost embarrassed at it, but- “Thank you,” he mumbled, shaken and indistinct into her shirt, and she couldn’t regret the upheaval that her decision would surely bring.

Gently, she settled her hands around her son’s shoulders. I hope you’ll trust me a little more from now on, she thought to him, but did not say.

Barely a half hour later, the two of them went to collect the newest member of their household.

---

End chapter.

Notes: so I had the vast majority of this written and sitting around for the last x knows how long, and then a few weeks ago or something I wrote a random 1k in it and finished it, and then yesterday I realised that today was Hikaru’s birthday and it would be a good chance to post the bugger. Hope you enjoyed it.

Declined to read over and edit this today because I decided I wasn’t in the mood for it. Therefore, chapter is presented mostly unedited.

Author’s thoughts: though it's been a fair while since I was in Paper Cranes brain, there are two main things that stand out as bizarre to me when writing/thinking about this fic. The first: compared to Paper Cranes Hikaru, this Hikaru is astoundingly well-adjusted, and it's very weird. The second: Paper Cranes Hikaru would probably rather saw off his own foot with barbed wire than come even slightly clean to his mother about what's going on in his life, so it was very very weird for things to go this way here. I work off a baseline of Paper Cranes Hikaru when writing in this fandom, ok, so this is just plain mcfucking strange.

My current writing status: still writing in Dragon Prince, which is basically my permafandom for the foreseeable future, and am unlikely to stray hikagowards for aeons. Sorry y’all.

#hikaru no go #hikago #shindou hikaru #fujiwara no sai #nekomata #cat's cradle #i do enjoy crack treated (semi) seriously

43 notes · View notes

hopelikethemoon · 4 years

Text

exile (weeping monk x oc) {part I/?} [netflix’s cursed]

Title: exile Rating: PG-13 Length: 2,800 Warnings: The rating is for mentions of injuries otherwise this is PG. Notes: This is the first part of who knows how many chapters, it honestly depends on if there’s any interest in this little idea. I was also inspired by Taylor Swift’s ‘exile’ so listen to that. The story picks up right at the finale of Cursed.

Summary: The Weeping Monk seeks out an old friend.

Deep in the densest point of the forest, far beyond Hawksbridge and the surrounding villages — beyond where the common traveler ventured — there was a copse of trees that stood like fortress walls surrounding the modest hovel of a reclusive healer.

Isolde had called the hovel home for nearly fifteen years. A fever had stolen her parents from her and the aged healer who had once lived in the hovel had taken her in when her cures had failed to heal them. Perhaps it was guilt, or perhaps it was divine sight.

The hovel protected her — shielded her from a tumultuous world that had turned against her people. Those who needed her could find her, but those that meant to do her harm could not seek her out among the woods.

Since the siege of Red Paladins had overtaken the surrounding villages, Isolde had prepared herself for their arrival. But as each day passed, no wounded traveler or wayward horseman had come upon her home.

Until today.

The distinct sound of hooves on the moss-covered soil drew her out into the woods. She could feel an energy — a familiar pull — stirring in her veins. The woods had permitted their presence, but the hairs at the nape of her neck standing on end told her to be cautious nevertheless.

It was a boy and a man who had clearly seen better days.

Isolde’s hand lingered at the dagger sheathed at her hip as she stared at the mounted pair, “You’re trespassing.”

“Are you a healer?” The young boy questioned, his voice slightly strained as he struggled to keep the grown man behind him upright on the stead. The hooded man slumped forward against the boy’s back, despite his best attempts to stay alert.

She hesitated.

With the way that Paladins had wiped out entire villages of Fey folk, she had every reason to reconsider admitting to them that she was a Fey — and yet, that invisible pull she felt assured her that they were not dissimilar to her.

“Yes,” Isolde conceded, moving towards the pair, her brows drawn together as she studied the barely conscious man. “What’s happened to him?”

“We were attacked by Paladins.” He gritted out, “They tried to kill him, but we escaped by the skin of our teeth! But he’s hurt. Badly.” He explained with a shocking amount of enthusiasm.

“Yes, I can see that.” Isolde retorted, taking hold of the horse’s reins as she led it closer towards her home. She looped the reins around a post, hands on her hips as she turned back to regard the pair. “I’ll get a gurney, but I’ll need your help, lad.”

Isolde couldn’t shake the feeling that still had her on edge. There was no outward reason to doubt a wounded man and a beleaguered child with a black eye.

Though she needed time to take account of the man’s injuries, it was safe to assume that neither of them would be leaving any time soon.

Isolde vanished back into her home to gather up the materials she needed to transport the man, before returning with the gurney as promised.

“I’m impressed he’s made it this far,” Isolde remarked as she helped to heft him off the horse and onto the gurney. It took an incredible amount of strength to navigate the man off the horse without further injuring him or hurting herself and the boy in the process.

She had no idea how the boy had managed to get them to her hovel, given the man’s condition.

“You’re both Feyfolk.” Isolde stated as they hauled the injured man into her home and got him settled onto her work table. She tilted her head as she looked down at the man’s wounded face. His jaw was badly swollen, his face bruised, and there was strange bruising around his eyes.

The man grunted quietly, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he fought the pull of unconsciousness, but he didn’t stir any further than that. “Do you have a name, boy?” Isolde questioned, glancing back at the boy.

This time, he was the one who hesitated. “I’m Percy and this is… Lance.”

“Lance.” Isolde repeated as she glanced back down at the injured man, who seemed no older than she was. Beneath the blood, bruising, and swollen flesh she figured he might’ve been handsome.

“Percy, will you fetch me water from the creek you passed to enter here?” She questioned, grabbing a wooden bucket from beneath the table and passing it to him.

“Will you treat him?”

“I’ll do what I can to stave off infection.” Isolde told him, a hand at her hip as she regarded the boy. “But I’ll need clean water to do that.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Percy said, before snatching the bucket from her and darting back out the door.

Isolde hummed to herself as she looked down at Lance, her brows furrowed as she brushed her fingers gingerly over his swollen jaw. “Can you hear me?” She questioned, as she worked to remove his cloak, letting it drape beneath him on the table. “I’m going to have to remove this garment. You’re lucky I’m a decent seamstress too.”

She retrieved a pair of shears from a drawer, returning to cut off the dark tunic he wore. His chest was covered in dark, angry bruises. Blood clinging to his pale skin where his attacker’s weapon had pierced his skin.

“I’m impressed you managed to escape from the Paladins with these injuries. They’ve brutalized you.” Isolde walked around the table to find her healing balms, but she stopped dead in her tracks as she caught sight of an injury at the crown of his head. Mostly hidden by his chestnut color hair was the grisly imprint of the cross.

He was a Red Paladin.

Had the boy been a clever ruse? Unassuming and charming — meant to catch her off guard. Playing to her good nature; presenting her with an injured man in need of care. And she’d fallen for it.

Isolde’s fingers twitched as they reached for the blade she had strapped to her hip, she drew it from its sheath, creeping back towards the prone figure on her table.

She could kill him now — rid the realm of one more Red Paladin, before he had the chance to kill more innocent people.

Isolde jumped as the door swung open, knocking into the shelves behind it as the boy returned with the water, “What are you doing? I thought you were a healer!”

“Are you aware of what he is?” Isolde questioned, brandishing the weapon in his direction. “That you’ve delivered a fox into the house of a hen.”

“He’s not like that!” Percy pleaded, sitting the bucket of water down and holding up his hands. “Maybe he’s done some really heinous things, but he saved me!”

Isolde’s gaze flickered back towards the table, “And you trust a Red Paladin not to spare you, only to save you for another day? Have you not seen what horrors they’ve brought against our kind?”

“Don’t—“ Lance muttered, stirring on the table as he fought against the obvious pain of his injuries, groaning as he sat up. “Don’t hurt him.” His hand fumbled at his waist, like meant to reach for a blade that wasn’t there. “He’s just a boy.”

“I only hurt Red Paladins.” Isolde spat, aiming the blade in his direction then. It would be so easy to end it all. One sweep of the blade across his throat. It would end it all.

One less Red Paladin to kill her kind.

“I’m not—“ Lance started, his voice strained as he clutched at his ribs. Whatever had been done to him, had certainly done a number to him.

Would the Red Paladins turn against one of their own?

Lance opened his eyes slowly, pain marring his expression as his unfocused gaze settled on her then, “Isolde?”

She held up the dagger once more, brows drawn together, “How do you know my name?”

He grimaced, lips clenched closed as a wave of apparent nausea passed through him. “Your father was the falconmaster.”

Isolde’s grip loosened on the blade and it slipped from her hold and landed onto the straw covered floor beneath her. “Lancelot?” The realization washed over her and suddenly it made sense. That strange familiarity she had felt.

It had been a lifetime since she had last seen him.

They had both been children — innocent and unaware that their inherent natures would eventually lead to their persecution.

“How—“ Isolde started, stepping towards the table. “Your father, Ban… How did the Red Paladins—?” Isolde couldn’t understand how it had come to this. “How did this happen to you?”

Lancelot wavered, blinking slowly as he tried to keep his eyes focused on her face. “Squirrel, tend to the horse.” The boy started to protest. “Now, please.” The door shut behind him as he left.

“What happened to you, my sweet Lancelot?” Isolde questioned, lifting her hand to carefully cup his injured cheek.

“It’s a long unpleasant story.” Lancelot whispered as he closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. “Do you have feverfew?”

“Yes, of course.” Isolde murmured, reluctantly stepping away from him as she sorted through her stash of herbs.

Ginger, willow bark, and feverfew — mashed together with a sprinkle of purified water would ease the pain and swelling.

“What was the damage done by?” She questioned, glancing back at him warily.

All the fears of what he might be capable of doing to her faded away now. Perhaps she should’ve been cautious, but it was Lancelot.

The boy who braided Pentas into her hair, the boy who had giggled when he kissed her beneath a night sky filled with stars. She hadn’t forgotten him or the way she’d once felt. It was like muscle memory. Her heart remembered. They had only been children — no older than the boy he called Squirrel.

“A morning star… or eight.”

Isolde frowned, “Lancelot, it’s a miracle your face isn’t sunken in.”

“Feels like it should be,” He grunted out as he reached up to touch his face.

“Your jaw is likely fractured. I won’t know for certain until the swelling has gone down,” Isolde explained to him as she dusted turmeric into the paste and presented it to him. “Once you’re settled, I’ll start cleaning these open wounds.” She gestured to his face, brows furrowed as she carefully examined the bruising and injuries he’d sustained.

Lancelot took the wooden bowl from her, using two fingers to scoop up the mixture before sticking them into his mouth. He gagged a little, but managed to swallow it down. “I’d forgotten how bloody bitter that shit is.”

Isolde laughed softly, “And we haven’t even gotten to the fun part.” She carefully peeled the cloak off his back, before helping him out of his cut shirt.

Her heart sank as her gaze fell upon his ruined back. Angry welts and oozing wounds from a fresh lashing, criss-crossed over faded scars as well the raised and gnarled scars that protruded from the pale skin of his back. “Lancelot, what has been done to you?”

Isolde stepped back around him, lips drawn into a thin line as she met his gaze.

His eyes seemed heavy again, like he was using every bit of his strength to stay upright. She wanted to urge him to lay down, but she desperately wanted answers.

“Isolde…” He whispered her name with a short shake of his head. “I am not the child I once was. Forget whatever you think you know of me.” He closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose. “I am not a Red Paladin, but perhaps I am worse than one.”

She took the empty bowl from him, her fingers brushing over his. It warmed her straight to her very soul. But the creeping fear that slid up her spine quickly put out the fire.

“Worse than a Red Paladin?”

He grabbed at the edges of the table as he wavered, his head falling forward as a pitiful sound escaped him. “Isolde…”

“Tell me.”

“Have you…” He started, lifting his head just enough to look at her through his dark lashes. “Have you heard of the sword of the Red Paladins? The Weeping Monk who can sniff out the Fey?”

Isolde didn’t mean to, but she took a step backwards, a hand resting at her heart as she stared at him.

It wasn’t bruising that stained the skin beneath his eyes, she realized.

She had heard the tales.

Isolde had ventured to nearby villages, she had heard the bards with their songs of the horrors that came to Feyfolk. The burnings on crosses, the throats slit, the mutilation of women and children.

The whispers of a man, cloaked in black who wept tears of blood as he sought vengeance for his people’s god.

Only he wasn’t one of them.

He was a Fey.

He was Lancelot.

Isolde’s fingers trembled and she quickly busied herself with cleaning out the wooden bowl, wiping away the turmeric stain.

“Is that how you found me?”

Lancelot was quiet for a long moment, so long that Isolde was forced to glance back at him, in fear that he’d slumped over dead, but he sat there — staring at her.

“I have passed this way before,” He confessed, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as a whine of pain escaped him. “Sweet Izzy, will you spare me?”

“I haven’t any foxglove to spare you with,” She retorted with a shake of her head. “I’m a healer, Lancelot, of course I’ll spare you.” Isolde’s heart softened as she stepped back towards him. “How many of our kind have you killed?”

Lancelot opened his eyes slowly, his bottom lip trembling as he looked up at her. “I cannot place a number on the lives I’ve brought to untimely ends, Isolde. Saving Squirrel cannot atone me for the children who have been massacred.”

“How did it come to this?”

“I was spared by Father Carden.” Lancelot confessed, flinching away from Isolde as she reached out for him again. “And turned into a weapon for them to slay my own kind.”

Isolde let her hand fall to her side, “What do you mean when you say that you’ve… passed this way before?”

He worked his jaw slowly, lowering his gaze. “We have been searching for The Wolf-Blood Witch, scouring every corner of the realm and…” Lancelot laughed humorlessly. “It’s been twenty years, Isolde, but I still sense you. I caught a glimpse of you as the path opened to me… your hair like flames as you fetched water from the creek.”

She exhaled slowly as she stared at him, “But the Red Paladins never came…”

“There was no Wolf-Blood Witch here.” Lancelot sank back against the table, the pain growing to be too much for him. “I knew Squirrel would be safe here, Izzy.”

“You’re safe here too,” Isolde sighed, moving to stand beside him. “I’m not going to let you die, Lancelot. No matter what you’ve done. I made a promise to the goddess that I would use my gifts to heal, not kill.”

She reached out and gingerly swept her fingers over his forehead, brushing aside a loose curl of hair that was sticking to the blood on his skin. “Just rest. I’m going to clean your wounds and then work on the poultices.”

“Thank you.” He murmured, lifting his hand to catch hers as she brushed her knuckles against his cheek.

Isolde smiled softly, “You’re welcome, Lancelot.”

Once upon a time, they had been just children. Isolde’s father had been employed by Lancelot’s father — heir apparent to a throne that had crumbled. Lancelot was a special child, touched by the Fey just as Isolde had been.

They bonded as children; laughing and playing in the stables, using their gifts to make flowers blossom and flutter through the air, terrorising their parents by vanishing for hours on end.

Isolde had been old enough to understand that her gift was the reason her parents abruptly left Ban’s service.

Not a summer passed that she didn’t wonder what had become of Lancelot. Every time the Pentas bloomed and the summer nights glowed with a sky full of stars — she wondered if he’d survived the wrath of the Red Paladins.

But that boy was gone and in his place was a man who had been corrupted by the darkness of false prophets and vengeful religious mercenaries. A man who had turned against his own kind. Who wept tears let from the blood of his victims.

Isolde wiped a dampened cloth over his skin to wipe away the blood, but she knew it wouldn’t be easily cleansed from his hands.

#cursed #cursed ff #weeping monk #weeping monk x oc #weeping monk fanfic #daniel sharman

71 notes · View notes

flyinghome-againstthewind · 4 years

Text

the best by far is you: chapter 7

Read on AO3

Previous Chapter

For all the things my hands have held The best by far is you - Cecilia and the satellite

------------

Summary: An exploration of Claire & Jamie’s story if their firstborn had lived and they had the chance to be parents together of wee Faith Fraser before the battle of Culloden.

Chapter 7

As the news of the declaration with Jamie’s forged signature settled in, the very air within the house became too stifling. Jamie stepped out during a somber lull in conversation, everyone trying to process what it would mean. He walked without a destination in mind, coming to rest atop a hill and clear his head, make a plan. He heard the rustle of Claire’s skirts and the slosh of her steps on wet ground before he glanced behind to greet her.

“It’s all coming to pass, isn’t it? The Jacobite rising, Culloden, the clearances...” Her gaze swept out over the spread of Lallybroch land before them. “The destruction of all of this,” she said bitterly.

The silent acknowledgment of their failure roiled in his gut. They’d done everything they could, and yet…

“So it would seem.”

Claire moved to sit on the fallen tree before him. “We could go to Ireland,” she pleaded desperately, “or the colonies.”

“Wi’ a small bairn in tow? Fergus might tolerate it, but it’d be a terribly hard life to subject both o’ them to. And what of Ian and Jenny? Our nieces, nephew, cousins?”

“We can bring them with us.”

“All o’ them?” He smiled sadly at the thought. At the impossibility of it all. His heart ached at the sight of her unbridled fear, etched there in her face for him to see. But they must consider everyone that would be impacted by their decision before they made it. Because no matter what, there was no easy answer. “And what of our tenants? Leave them to the‒ the mercy of the British butchers if Culloden is lost?”

“Your name on that document brands you as a traitor to the British. And you will be hung as one if they catch you. We can’t stay.” Her gaze was fierce and unflinching. He knew she saw the horrors of this history playing out before her, but with names and faces now to put to the images of this war. His name, in particular. His face. That was her burden of such knowledge.

“We know what will happen if the Jacobites lose the war. But… but what if they win?”

“They don’t. It’s the verdict of history.”

“Have you given up trying to change the future then, Sassenach?”

“Well, after Paris, haven’t you?”

“Aye, Paris was bitter disappointment. But you can change the future. You’ve proven that. Tammas Baxter lives because of you. Paris was spared an outbreak of smallpox because of you.” He knelt in front of her and covered her cold hands with his own, infusing warmth there with his touch. “And Louise de Rohan bore Charles Stuart’s bairn because of you. And we have a bairn who was born in this time, so sickly and small, and she is still alive because of you. She’s our proof that you and I belong as one, that you were meant to be in this time though you were born nearly two hundred years from now.”

Claire shook her head at him slightly. He knew. This was no small thing to try and change. “You want to fight for Prince Charles?”

“I want to fight for our family. And for Scotland.” He rose to his feet, watching Claire carefully for her reaction. “What happens next will impact Faith’s future and if we dinna have a hand in trying to steer it the right way… if we dinna even try…” He shook his head. “I canna see any other way. Can you?”

“Not one that we could live with,” she said at last. He let out a resigned sigh at that. “They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.”

“Well, I dinna ken who they are, Sassenach.” He’d noticed the few tears that had spilled down her face and gently brushed them away. Pulling her to her feet, his hands settled firmly on her hips. “But I’ll wager they have never traveled through time.”

Their foreheads met briefly before he pressed a kiss to hers and pulled her in closer, holding her tight. “I ken I’m asking the impossible of you, mo nighean donn.” When she squeezed him tighter, he knew she understood he wasn’t talking about their mission, but of Faith. “She’ll be safe here wi’ family that loves her.” He kissed her shoulder through the layers of her dress and wrap. “Until we can return to her.”

The news spread quickly through Lallybroch. The men began to prepare, and their peaceful summer came to an abrupt end. The farmhouse thrummed with activity, and equipment and provisions piled in the hallways and corners of rooms as they packed and took stock.

It was all happening so fast. The letter had arrived only days ago and Claire, Jamie, and the men would all head out tomorrow morning. Claire found Fergus standing at the edge of the parlor watching Jamie and Murtagh as they packed some crates at the dining table, plotting out loud with each other the whole time.

She felt a sharp twinge at the thought of Fergus being separated from Jamie for any length of time. The boy’s back was to her, his expression thus obscured from her, but she was certain he must be measuring the moments as she was while they were all still here together.

She came up behind him and looped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him back against her. He went willingly as he sighed and leaned his head back against her shoulder. He’d gotten so tall. When had that happened?

“No matter what comes, you know this is your family, don’t you? That you belong with us?” She and Jamie had spent yesterday with Jenny and Ian, discussing care for the children and the contingency plans no parent ever wanted to make. But they had Fergus and Faith, and it would’ve been irresponsible not to consider all the alternatives and what they would mean for them.

Fergus’s hands came up to hold onto her arms where they were clasped around him. “I know.” His tone was unreadable, but then they were all feeling a maelstrom of emotions these last few days.

She pressed a loud, smacking kiss to his cheek, not caring if it embarrassed him. “Good. Because we love you.” Since Faith, those words slipped out more frequently for her children ‒ an intentional effort on her part. She never wanted there to be any doubt for them, especially with war looming ahead of them. Claire kissed his cheek again, felt him exhale a small laugh this time. “I love you.”

“I know, Milady. Je t'aime aussi.”

She squeezed him tight for a moment, burying her face in his curls. Words jumped to her tongue but she swallowed them back, not wanting to lay such a burden on his young shoulders. But they echoed in her mind just the same, a silent wish made to the universe and any higher power that might help.

If something happens to us, would you make sure Faith knows, too?

“No!” Faith cried, fat tears rolling down her flushed face. She tried to roll off the chair away from Jamie, escaping from the linen clout he was trying to fasten around her.

“Faith. Mo nighean. Please.” He caught her around her waist and hauled her back, but she kicked her legs wildly and screeched. He forgot about the clout for a moment and pulled her to his chest. “What’s wrong? You’re breaking my heart, Faith. I hate tae see ye so.”

“Is she alright?” Claire called out from their bed.

“She’s no’ hurt,” he assured her quickly. “Just upset about something.”

Faith stopped fighting him, but she still cried into his ear, loud wails accompanied by the hot tears soaking into his shoulder. She had worked herself up to the point that her whole body felt hot and sweaty from her effort, even through the thin fabric of her nightgown.

“Na gabh dragh. Tha mi an seo,” he murmured gently against her sweaty head. Don’t worry. I’m here. Forgoing on the fresh clout for the moment, he stood and grabbed his plaid to wrap around them. He met Claire’s gaze where she was still sitting up in bed. “It’s alright, Sassenach. Go back to sleep. I’ll walk wi’ her until she calms down.”

She seemed loath to accept his suggestion and he didn’t blame her. Their hours with Faith were numbered before their departure in the morning and neither one wanted those hours to go to waste.

Even sleep seemed a fickle thing to do when that time could be spent memorizing every detail of their baby. The fine, silky strands of her copper hair just long enough now that it had begun to curl around her ears and at the nape of her neck. The way her nose crinkled when she laughed. The way her smile showed off four perfect, tiny teeth. Her eyes with electric blue towards the center and that darker ring of blue around the edges, just like Claire. The more she grew and lost the round features of infancy, the more Jamie saw of his wife in her.

He reached the doorway and glanced back, seeing Claire’s reluctant collapse back against her pillow.

“Tha gaol agam ort, a Creideamh,” he murmured as he walked the length of the upper hallway with Faith, not hearing the stir of any other members of the house. He thought of Jenny and Ian with their wee bairns requiring so much of them at these stages, and how they would have to be the ones to soothe Faith on the nights she couldn’t sleep. How would Faith handle that? What would she understand of why he and Claire weren’t there for her?

Faith’s fervent cries filled the otherwise silent house, echoing through the open space above the parlor as he carried her down the stairs.

“Dinna weep, mo chridhe. Here, let’s tend to the fire, aye? Before it goes out.”

Faith hiccuped and fell into a rhythmic cry, having cried too hard to get her breathing under control. From her perch on Jamie’s knee, she seemed entranced by the fire as he tended to it.

“There, mo nighean, it’s alright.” His thumb wiped at her wet cheeks and then he used the edge of his plaid to wipe her nose. “My bonny wee lass.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek, which broke the spell. Her little hands reached up and grabbed hold of his shirt at the collar, trying to get closer to him, and her whining started again.

“Oh, there now.” He stood and held Faith flush against him, her head resting over his heart. “Dinna weep. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

When he realized it was his closeness she wanted, he abandoned his plan to walk the quiet, empty rooms of Lallybroch and instead settled there on the sofa with her. “Ye ken somehow, aye? Ye’re a smart lass, and ye can tell something is changing.” He sighed heavily, his hand moving in slow circles over Faith’s back. “That’s alright. I’ve been meaning to talk to ye about it.”

Her dimpled hand rested on the other side of his chest and he reached for it, brought it to his lips for a kiss. “Ye see, yer mam and I are leaving for Beauly in the morning and from there, onward toward Crieff. Ye dinna ken where either of those places are, I suppose. But all that will matter to ye is that we’re no’ here.” He breathed in sharply, fighting the urge to cry, though one rogue tear spilled down his cheek. “I need ye to ken that you are loved beyond measure. Our flesh and blood. Heart and soul.” He swallowed roughly and bent to kiss the top of Faith’s head, needing a moment.

“Everything yer mam and I do is for you and Fergus. For your futures. That’s why we’re going, but make no mistake, our hearts stay behind with you.”

Faith snuffled quietly, still overtaken every now and then by a powerful hiccup, but she was otherwise silent as Jamie spoke, listening to his voice.

He drew in a measured breath and let it out slow. “I‒” He swallowed roughly again. “I dinna like tae think about it, but I ken you’ll understand this when ye have yer own bairns someday… Ye canna help but think about all that could go wrong. And I dinna plan to not return to ye, ken? But some things ye canna plan for. And just in case…” His hand had come to rest over her head, holding her there, and kissed her hair again. “I want to tell ye some things, in case I’m‒ in case I’m no’ around to tell ye later.

“First, mind yer aunt Jenny while we’re away. I ken you and Uncle Ian get along just fine, so I’m no’ worried there, but ye have the Fraser temper, I’m sorry to say. Ye might want to butt heids wi’ her, but she is your aunt and ye must mind her. She can be tough, but she loves ye.

“This next bit willna be a concern o’ yours for a long time, but it is verra important: dinna ever let a man hold yer heart if he’s no’ worthy of it. He should treasure you, Faith, and respect you. Should admire yer mind and yer heart more than yer beauty. Oh lord.” He pressed his thumb and index finger hard against his closed eyes. “Please, please, dinna fall in love wi’ some clot-heid idiot. I couldna take it. A good man, Faith, aye? D’ye promise?”

She hadn’t fallen asleep, but she didn’t respond either. He softly stroked her hair. “Aye,” he murmured. “I want a love for you as great as the love I have wi’ yer mam.” He sighed deeply. “I hope to god I’m here to judge him, whoever that man is, but if I’m no’ here, I want yer uncle Ian to give his blessing before ye wed. He’s… he’s the best man I ken, Ian is. And a good da. So he’ll be a good judge for ye. Fergus, too. I suppose by then, Fergus would be auld enough to give his blessing. Aye, now that I think of it, ye need both their blessings or no marriage, Faith.” He considered this for a moment and then added, “Murtagh, too, if he’s still around when the time comes. Aye, if a man can earn the blessing of those three, I shall no’ worry overmuch about it, for I’ll ken he must be a good man after all.

“And yer mam… I wish I didna need her to come wi’ me. Truly. But she taught me long ago ‒ before ye were even born ‒ that bad things happen when we’re apart. She kens the future and what will come of this war. That’s vital information.” His fingers gently tucked her red, wispy curls behind her ear. “And you and I both ken what a fine healer she is, aye? Neither of us would be here wi’out her.

“But even though I’m taking her wi’ me, I swear on the cross of our Lord Jesus that I will see her safely home to you. I dinna ken what’s to come, but I ken I willna let anything happen to her. She needs ye and you need her, aye? So I ken all of this that I’ve said to you will be relayed even if I’m gone, because she’ll be here and she knows my heart.

“You’re so like her already, Faith. I ken you will be smart and brave and so kind.” He chuckled suddenly, despite himself. “Maybe ye’ll be a healer, too? Though it doesna matter what ye do, Faith, I’ll always be so proud I could burst. Aye, I’ve been trying to reconcile the fact that I‒” He cleared his throat and felt the burn of tears once again. “Christ,” he muttered hoarsely. “That I might no’ see ye grow up. I might no’ see what you become, but even as ye are now, so small… just a bairn still… I love ye for who ye are, Faith.

“I dinna want tae leave ye,” he reminded the baby. “I say all o’ this just in case it’s needed. And I need ye tae ken that if… if I dinna return, if all that remains of me is the life of you that I helped bring into this world…” He kissed her head and then rested his cheek there. “Then I should be well pleased with my time on this earth.”

He heard a sound like a choked whine, but it came from above them. His eyes flew up and there was Claire at the wooden banister, watching them with one hand clamped over her mouth to cover the sobs that shook her. Oh, his wife. His heart. How long had she listened to his goodbye?

He secured Faith against him and was off the sofa and up the stairs as fast as he could manage. She was crumbling right in front of him and he pulled her to him. She cried into his chest once his arms were about her, no longer able to keep the sobs at bay. He held them both, Faith half-sandwiched between them.

He'd only heard those gut-wrenching sobs from Claire a few times in his life, and they made his stomach drop. “Claire,” he choked out, his mouth pressed tightly against her skull. There was another option. One they’d refused to discuss. “You could stay.”

She sobbed harder and shook her head.

No. They both knew she couldn’t stay. It didn’t mean it wasn’t tearing their very hearts out of their chests in the process.

“I don’t want to lose this,” she uttered between sobs.

Faith howled into Jamie’s chest, upset further by the sight of her mother’s distress.

He breathed in sharply, holding both pieces of his heart tight against him, already feeling torn to shreds. He didn’t have an answer for their problem or a balm for the pain. All he had at that moment was a silent, fervent prayer: Lord, that they would both be kept safe...

With the morning came their brave faces back in place once more. Claire kept Faith anchored on her hip as they said their goodbyes to the Murray children inside and then as they oversaw the last of their things packed into the wagon for Murtagh to bring to Kingussie.

None of it felt quite real to Claire, like a bad dream she just couldn’t wake from. That she would have to part with her daughter for an indeterminate amount of time was unthinkable.

She kept Faith in her arms, refusing to let her down even when the baby signaled that she wanted to walk on her own. She bounced her until the fidgeting stopped and Faith settled again.

And as they stood in the courtyard, horses saddled and wagon packed and final goodbyes being given, Claire felt the panic clawing its way up her throat. She strode a few steps away from the others and shifted Faith in front of her so she could look at her. She knew she must say something, but nothing seemed sufficient.

The sun caught in Faith’s bright copper hair, shining a brilliant gold and red. “Forgot to grab your bonnet,” she muttered stupidly, her hand smoothing over the girl’s silky hair. Her eyes met Faith’s, a mirror copy of her own. Claire drew in a sharp breath and let it out slow.

“It’s not fair to you. Your da and I are the ones who know and love you best.” Once the words were out, she felt the crushing weight of them and couldn’t say more. Instead, she kissed Faith’s forehead, her snubbed nose, her round cheek, her neck which was sticky with sweat. She buried her nose there, the scent so familiar and only definable as belonging to Faith.

She felt her girl’s head turn and rest against her shoulder. Little fingers curled around the fabric of Claire’s wrap where it bunched at her neck and held on tight. Faith was content at last to be in her mother’s arms now that they were just about leaving. A tear spilled down Claire’s nose and onto the shoulder of her daughter’s dress.

She didn’t have Jamie’s easy way of showing her heart through speech, but she loved this child with everything that was in her and words didn’t seem to cover the breadth of that love. Not even by half. So she hoped to convey to her baby in these last moments, in the caressing touches, that Faith was the axis on which her whole world spun. She could do anything ‒ even brave this time apart ‒ if it meant her girl would have a future.

She spotted Ian after a time, waiting to say goodbye to her. He gave her a sad smile and after they’d embraced, he made no move to take Faith from her. They exchanged a few words and watched Jenny and Jamie say their goodbye to each other.

“Just where do ye think ye’re going?” Murtagh’s voice rang out sharply in the courtyard and Claire turned to see the object of his question ‒ Fergus, on his own mule, packed and ready to go.

“Well, with Milord,” Fergus said, as if this was obvious.

“You’re too young to fight, laddie.” Ian chuckled at him. “Ye’ll bide here wi’ us.”

“That’s right,” Jenny added, her hands on her hips as she walked towards him with the others. “We’re charged with your care and safekeeping ‘til Milord returns.”

“But I belong with you.” The boy implored to Claire, ignoring Ian and Jenny. “Is that not what you told me, Milady? That I will always have a home with you?”

Those certainly had been her words, but it was a cruel trick to twist those on her now. She was already drowning and hadn’t even said her goodbye to him yet.

“Yes, of course,” Claire began gently. “But sometimes it’s‒”

“He’s right.” Jamie cut in. Claire turned baffled eyes on her husband. This was a ten-year-old they were talking about, was it not? “His place is no’ here without us, nor in France on his own.”

Fergus looked very pleased atop his mule as Jamie addressed him, doling out his orders. His own little soldier. Claire adjusted her hold on Faith, her arms feeling the fatigue of carrying her for so long. She hardly had time to process that Jamie was bringing their ten-year-old to war before the moment she’d been dreading had finally arrived.

“It’s time, sister dear.” Jenny was at her side, one hand on Faith’s back and the other on Claire’s.

No. Not yet.

Her arms held tight to Faith, unwilling to relinquish her just yet. Though when would she ever be ready?

“I ken, Claire.” Jenny’s voice was soft, in a tone usually reserved for comforting her children. “I ken. I’m so sorry.”

She nodded curtly at Jenny to show that she understood before burying her face in Faith’s neck again. Her heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice grip. But she didn’t cry. She wouldn’t. Not after she’d scared Faith half to death last night with her hysterical sobbing.

Claire turned around, struck with the sudden, horrible thought that she’d hogged Faith all morning from her father and here they were, about to leave, and he hadn’t so much as held her once yet. He was watching her, of course, from his spot where their horses were saddled and waiting. His look conveyed only a deep tenderness and understanding towards her pain. Their pain. No exchange of words was needed; she could surrender Faith to Jamie and no one else. Otherwise, she’d never leave here. In a few strides, he had closed the distance between them and kissed her temple.

“Take yer time, mo ghraidh,” he murmured.

But they didn’t have time. Not really.

Her eyes slammed shut, fighting off the pressure of hot tears springing to her eyes. With Jamie right in front of her to bolster her, she drew in a steadying breath. She opened her eyes for one last, long look at her daughter. “Oh, my beautiful girl,” she breathed out. Her finger traced the soft outline of her baby’s face and the shell of her ear. “It’s not goodbye forever, just for now. I love you.” She sealed her words with one more kiss to Faith’s cheek and quickly transferred the girl to Jamie’s waiting arms.

She met his gaze only for a moment. He gave her a tight smile and a short nod, and she left him to his goodbye. Wiping furiously at the tracks of her tears, she strode half-blindly towards her horse and there she remained, petting his neck, until she felt Jamie again at her side.

But before he helped her onto her horse, he took her in his arms. His embrace was strong and fierce, and it held her together when she thought she might fall apart. A comforting touch before the long ride ahead of them.

Then the moment ended and Jamie helped her mount the horse before quickly springing up into the saddle of his own. She gave him a quick nod in answer to his silent question and they rode off through the gates of Lallybroch, Claire never looking back.

#outlander #jamie x claire #faith fraser #outlander fic #OL fic #my fic #tbbfiy #the best by far is you

34 notes · View notes