#i mean hand singular. we began holding hands out of the blue

[bitbugbites-re]

𝙿𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝚊𝚌𝚎 | 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔬𝔰 𝔬𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔦𝔯𝔞 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

Game nights are fun. Especially so when you mix "Sex Chocolates" and Go Fish.

a03 link

word count: ~2.7k

gender: fem! reader

cw: NSFW, FLUFF // aphrodisiacs, kissing, neck kissing, foreplay, vaginal sex, no use of y/n, reader-insert, sex chocolates??? not even finishing a game of go fish smh

a/n: do my author notes boost my aura. be honest guys

p.s. -- if you’re only interested in the smut, you can scroll down until you reach the thin black bar lololol

“Is this elephant blue?” the man beside you questioned, his slimy facemask beginning to lift at the edges that covered his stubble-coated jaw. 

Raising a brow, you glanced at the card he was observing, as you began pressing your hand to the wet, papery skincare sheet that rested on his face. The card, indeed, had an image of a baby-blue elephant on it, drawn in a simplified, cutesy manner–not to mention, it was accompanied by an ‘s,’ and the word elephant in all lowercase. You patted his face once more, ensuring the facemask was placed smoothly onto his warm skin, and then answered his question.

“Yeah, it looks pretty blue to me. Why?”

Pressing his lips into a fine line, he shook his head, a loose strand of hair untucking itself from one of the millions of barrettes placed in his hair. They ranged from a million different colors, to a million different decals, to a million different sizes. His favorites, he claimed, were the red chili peppers–because they were, as he claims, “hot and spicy,” like him.

“Have you ever seen a blue elephant?” he asked, his tone sardonic. “I mean, really–what is with this blue elephant propaganda? They’re gray. Or brown–either or.”

Looking over at him, you stifled a laugh and simply smiled. “I didn’t know this was something you were so passionate about, Carlos.”

Chuckling under his breath, he turned to face you, grinning. “Oh yeah, I’m real serious about this stuff. I mean, what are they teaching the children, y’know? That elephants are blue? It’s just not right.”

Rolling your eyes, you slapped his shoulder softly. The card he was holding was part of a children’s Go Fish Alphabet card pack, one which you asked him to pick up on his way home from work–Well, sort of. You hadn’t asked him to get an alphabet set of cards meant for teaching toddlers letters and animals, but cards were cards. You suppose.

“So we’re playing Go Fish tonight?” you asked, switching your sitting position, your legs brushing against the scratchy, beige carpet. 

“Not unless you know how to play poker or blackjack with these things,” he said, his tone lighthearted as he began shuffling the deck. 

“Ha, ha,” you exclaimed, your voice filled with sarcasm. “What would we bet, anyways? I don’t know how I feel forking up my cash to a guy who uses his money on Go Fish Alphabet cards.”

Whipping his head towards you, he feigned a hurt expression. “How could you say that? These are precious cards my wonderful girlfriend asked me to get. It was money well spent.”

Laughing, you reached over for the flimsy bowl of popcorn, aching for a handful–or two, or three–of the hot, buttery snack. You threw a singular popcorn at Carlos, watching him scramble for it unsuccessfully. It fell to the distant floor, to which, he quickly retrieved it and stuffed it in his mouth anyways.

“Eeeeewwww,” you teased, scrunching your face at him. He only scooted closer to you, using his thick arm to close the distance as he lifted his body that lay sideways. 

“Give me a kiss, pretty girl.” 

You faked a scream before getting up and attempting to run. He was quicker than you, though, and before you could make it out of your room, he had his arms wrapped tight around your waist, the scent of his skincare sheet wafting from behind. You felt him shift and interlock his fingers, pressing his hands against your stomach, pulling you into him as his head lowered to your neck, pressing kisses to it softly. 

You flinched from the drastic temperature change of his facemask meeting your skin, and started to wack his arm with haste. “Cold, cold, cold–” you repeated, sucking air in through your teeth.

He quickly pulled back, removing the skincare sheet and balling it up in his fist, before quickly shooting it toward the trashcan. Surprisingly, he didn’t miss.

You felt him untwine his fingers, his dominant hand rising to his face, only to do a singular swipe from his forehead-down to wipe the moisture off, before wiping it on his pants and returning his hand to where it was originally placed. You quietly murmured to him that it ruins the point if he touches his face after the mask, but when you felt his lips pin against your neck again, you lost all resolve to criticize his boyish actions.

“I got something else for us,” he mumbled, his voice low as well as without much focus on his actual speech; he continued working on your neck, and without a doubt, you felt a growth press against your backside. 

Your cheeks felt warm, and it was starting to get difficult to hold your eyes open, his touch feeling like a massage. “Hmm?” you mumbled, feeling him slowly drag a hand from your stomach, to your waist, to his pocket. 

He pulled out what sounded like a wrapper, and when he held it out in front of you, you saw that it was a candy labeled ‘Sex Chocolates,’ with bold, red lipstick stain decals over black packaging.

You blinked a couple of times, rereading the name, mostly unsure why the company would straight up name–what you assumed was a brand of herbal aphrodisiac chocolates–quite literally, ‘Sex Chocolates.’ It would be like if a toilet company named themselves, ‘Toilet.’ 

Just toilet.

You shrugged away the thought upon hearing Carlos speak, which you had no doubt was to clarify just what he was holding. Not that it needed much introduction.

“I was thinking,” he paused, moving his hand to raise your palm and place the candy in it, “we could each have one of these before playing our game. First one who caves, loses.”

Smirking, you began unwrapping the chocolate in your hand. 

This was going to be a piece of cake.

It was not a piece of cake. 

You were now sitting there, your heart feeling like it was about to burst out from your chest, while Carlos was sitting happily surrounded by the millions of barrettes he removed from his hair, analyzing the few cards left in his hand. “Got a lowercase ‘s,’ for squirrel?”

You shook your head, but to be honest, you didn’t give a single damn any longer about this game or his all-lowercase squirrel. You weren’t sure if those chocolates were really what they advertised or if they were just a placebo, but something was happening to you, that was for sure.

Maybe you had tricked yourself into thinking that they really do work, and as a result, they did–but no matter, because you had already caught yourself eyeing up Carlos like he was meat on a stick, multiple times.

At first, it was his arms that stuck out to you. The way his veins protruded, how his muscles flexed as he messed with his cards. You imagined how every single hair on his arm would feel as you ran your hand up it, and how your palm would follow the curves of his firm forearm, to his thick upper arm, to his broad shoulder. 

Next, it was his brows, strangely enough. You liked the way they moved, the way they would crease along with his forehead, how they showed every single emotion or thought that he had–how he had no poker face.

And now, it was his stomach. The way you could see a sliver of it due to his shirt being raised slightly, his untamed happy trail exposed so innocently. How around, only a mere centimeter, the band of his briefs peeked out. And god, not to mention, how you could see a bit of one of his v lines. 

Yup. You were done for.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you’re suddenly snapped out of your thoughts by the growing smirk on Carlos’ face. “Having trouble focusing, Pipsqueak? There’s no shame in calling it quits.”

“I’m good,” you stated, despite the horrible urge to squirm into his lap and beg for him to leave his mark over every single spot on your body.

You wanted his tongue everywhere. In your mouth, fighting for dominance; on your breasts, teasing you along with his teeth; on the palm of your hand, trailing to the veins on your wrist; and on your–

“Shit, it’s really getting to ‘ya, isn’t it?”

Your eyes met Carlos’ once again, and you watched as he inched closer to you, his face now mere inches away from yours. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” he said, his voice low and sultry, barely above a whisper. “I’m yours.”

Within seconds, your lips crashed into his. The fact that this meant that you would lose the game was the absolute last thing on your mind right now, while the first thing, was everything you wanted Carlos to do to you–what you wanted to do to him.

As his velvety lips accepted your desperate ones, you pictured the two of you in every and any way imaginable. Missionary, in the bed, with your head trapped between one of his king-sized arms and his domineering head in the crook of your neck, panting with each thrust. On his face, with fistfuls of his black hair between your fingers and your beating clit brushing against the breath from his nose, begging you to cum. Cowgirl, on the floor, with your palms resting on his dense collarbones and his throbbing cock deep within your core.

Just to name a few.

You felt his facial hair rub against your cheeks, before suddenly, Carlos had you pinned by the arms to the floor. He then rose to his knees, hovering over you, looking at you through his bottom lashes with a lustful expression. Taking in a sharp inhale, he tilted his head and smiled smugly.

“I win.”

You simply stared up at him, your breathing quick, unable to contend his statement. You assumed he would gloat a little more, but surprisingly, he ended up helping you up fairly quickly. Once he did, he led you to the nearby bed, pulling you onto his lap–it didn’t take long at all for you to start grinding on one of his thighs, your head buried in between his neck and shoulder. You were so desperate for him, that you felt a little like a pervert as you rubbed yourself off, the musky scent of his skin being the only thing that filled your nostrils. 

“Calm down, Girl,” he said, softly placing his arm on your waist, holding you to him. His voice was light, and it sounded like he was genuinely starting to get concerned. “You are okay, right?”

Nodding your head into his shoulder, you let out a whimper as you found your sweet spot, dragging your hips slowly, back and forth atop his leg. In response, Carlos flexed the muscle within his thigh, pressing it up slightly, so that more pressure was provided. This time, you let out a gasp, and reached your hand up to the collar of Carlos’ shirt, gripping it as if you were holding on for dear life.

Fuck, you wanted him so bad.

“Carlos,” you breathed out, “I need you.”

Within an instant, Carlos had you on the bed, flipped on your back, with his knee pressed to your heat. He kept it there, letting you continue massaging yourself on him, as he pulled his shirt over his head with both arms. Mesmerized, you watched as his abs stiffened and relaxed with each move.

Next, he shuffled his pants and briefs down to his mid-thigh, sighing as his hard cock was released from its confines. After he did that, he removed his knee from between your legs, earning a whine from you, before then pulling your shorts and underwear down for you. Once they were completely off, he returned the two of you to your original positions, where he sat on the edge of the bed, and you sat facing toward him on his lap. His hand moved down south, softly caressing the side of your thigh, before eventually pushing between your folds and inserting a finger slowly. 

“Woah, you’re soaking,” he exclaimed, shocked by how wet you were already. Instead of gawking at this discovery, he simply inserted a second finger and continued trying to help relax the muscles in your core. It didn’t take much longer for the two of you to feel ready for the next step, to which Carlos slid his slick, thickset fingers out of your core. 

You raised your hips as he stroked himself slowly, positioning the head of his cock so that it aligned to the entrance of your heat. And then, you got exactly what you wanted.

He helped you lower yourself down onto him, and with ease, his manhood sunk deep inside you. Surprisingly, he was more vocal than you. With a couple of groans, he threw his head back, one of his hands positioned behind him, while the other held onto you tight. “Fuck, Babygirl, you feel so good.”

You began to move, slowly raising and dropping your hips, taking him in, then out, in, then out, over and over again. As the pattern continued, you deviated by wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him. He reciprocated, and the two of you focused on your interlocked lips for a while, until eventually, he pulled back, moving one of his hands to caress your cheek. With hooded eyes, he moved his thumb over your lips, rubbing them gingerly. 

“Show me your tongue,” he instructed, leaving his thumb to rest on your bottom lip as you opened your mouth, following what he commanded. “That’s a good girl.”

Carlos moved the tip of his thumb to rest on your tongue, letting you suck on it gently as you continued to ride atop him, his eyes greedily watching you use him how you liked. 

You continued like that for a while longer, until soon enough, he moved his wet thumb from your mouth to your clit, and began to rub in constant, circular motions. A warm pit began to grow in your stomach, and within no time, you were tightening around his cock, on the verge of cumming. 

“Cum for me pretty girl,” he said, his voice strained as he was beginning to lose himself as well. “I’m not going to last much longer, and–I want you to cum first,” he groaned, having to slow his pace and flex his lower half. He was holding back an orgasm. 

Listening to his words, you moved your head to the crook of his neck, and shut your eyes as you focused on his thumb circling your clit. You came quickly, and as you did, Carlos filled your ears with plenty of praises and compliments–for being so good, and for being so patient.

Once you had finished, it was his turn. He let you collect yourself for a minute before leaning back, placing his hands on your hips, and thrusting wildly into you, as if he had lost all of the control he had previously.

“Fucking, god,” he groaned, the bed shaking wildly as he continuously ravaged you. You watched him as he got close, the way his throat strained, the way he panted and cussed, the way his entire face was scrunched. Not long after, you heard him let out a loud whine, his cock twitching and throbbing as his thick cum poured out into you in warm loads. 

It took a minute for him to catch his breath and pull out, but when he did, you felt his cum start to slowly drip out of your core, coating all over his cock. He didn’t even seem to notice.

Still trying to catch your breath, you glanced at Carlos, wondering how he was faring. He seemed more exhausted than you despite the chocolate affecting you more, and that resulted in a laugh from you.

Confused, Carlos looked up at you. “What? What’s funny?”

You continued to giggle, laying your head on his chest, and cuddling into his sweat-stricken body.

“Maybe you do have a poker face, after all.”

[rxqueenotd]

The Girl Next Door part VIII

Pairing: Jeryd Mencken x OFC

Warnings: dubious content, affairs, sexual content, age gap, my improper use of commas. MDNI

A/N: When I tell you guys this chapter was a labor of love, I fucking mean it. We’re almost at the end, my friends. If anyone can predict accurately how this is going to end, I will give you one (1) forehead kiss. As always, thanks to @runningwiththefoxes and @vivalafae for dealing with my neurotic ass.

WC: 4426

My delusions hit an all time high when I woke up plastered to his chest the next morning. My hair, like inky black tendrils, spilled across his neck and shoulders, the rest of my limbs fitted to his, melting so dangerously close together that it was hard to tell where I ended and he began.

His gruff voice pulled me to the present, vibrating my caged chest.

“Hold still.”

I only hummed in response, too sleepy and drunk off him, his scent, to come up with any verbalisation that would’ve made sense at that moment.

We zoomed at one singular pace then, his hands finding purchase clasped together at the small of back, as I dozed back off.

When I woke again, I had rolled to my side, the comforter pulled up to the pillows where he had once been.

Walking around someone else’s house scantily clad made me feel dirtier than anything else we had done up to that point. Not that I was modest, heaven knows modesty was a trait I’d try my hand at and fail over the course of my life, but my presence felt like I was tainting someone else’s memories the cottage contained.

I floated lightly in the kitchen, tiptoeing about as I put a kettle of water on to boil. Jeryd was nowhere to be found and I only assumed he was out for a run or taking in the morning air. My curiosity getting the better of me, I eased down the hallway, to the first door on the right, my fingertips grazing across the penciled in heights and their corresponding dates along the door's frame.

Cautiously, I opened the door, revealing two twin beds, their comforters checkered in identical blue and black plaid, against two opposite walls. A photo of two young boys sat atop the small nightstand separating the beds. Simultaneously the kettle’s whistle and a set of hands on my shoulders caused me to shriek.

“You’re a bad influence!” I turned around and eyed him intensely before swerving past to grab the kettle off the eye.

“Never have I ever felt so sneaky and slithery!” I called from the kitchen, hearing his footsteps draw nearer.

He appeared behind me within seconds, leaning against the counter as I filled two teacups with scalding hot water, turning around to look at him as the tea steeped.

“Tell me, will I always be the blame for all of this or will you open your eyes and see yourself as a willing participant?”

I scoffed, crossing my arms. “You’ve got me up here, half naked, making tea at daybreak, trying to figure out whose house I’m in.”

He mirrored my stance, closing his eyes with a deep sigh. “Okay, well, I didn’t ask you to make tea.”

He reached forward and grabbed the box containing the teabags, reading the back label with squinted eyes.

“This shit has probably been here since the sixties.”

“No,” I shook my head, “I snagged it from the store yesterday.”

“The sixties?” I questioned, “Whose house is this?”

He reached beside me, grabbing his respective cup of tea.

“My mother’s,” he stopped long enough to blow away steam and sipped carefully, “Do you want to see the deed for the house or do you believe me?”

I rolled my eyes at him.

“I believe you.”

“Shocking,” He commented sarcastically as he made his way over to sit at the breakfast nook.

“You fight in your sleep.” He commented, his voice still gruff and laced with sleep.

“I had to pin you close to me last night to keep from taking a right hook to the face.”

“And here I thought you just wanted to cuddle.” I laughed breathlessly as I snagged the chunky blanket from the arm of the couch and wrapped it around myself, making my way over to sit across from him.

“Hardly.” He eyed me over the rim of his teacup.

“What do we do after this?” I thrummed my fingertips across the tabletop. “When we get home... Surely a mission trip can’t last more than a few weeks.”

I slyly laid out a chance for him to come clean about his wife’s whereabouts.

“What are you going to do after Georgetown?” He asked, leaning back in his seat to eye me with the curious coolness he always undertook when regarding these subjects with me.

“I asked first.” I countered, sipping my tea confidently as I stood my ground.

“In terms of love, marriage, and a baby carriage?”

I shifted awkwardly in my seat, “Uh, not exactly what I meant for us.”

“Then what did you mean, Liv?”

“I have a soft spot for PR,” I watched as he stood up, grabbing his teacup, carrying it over to the sink, “but I think going the corporate route might be right for me, I don’t know.”

“Don’t deflect, Olive.” He chided, rinsing out his teacup, shaking his head at my poor attempt to cover my scent.

“I’m not,” I sighed, “I answered your question.”

“I answered your question last night.” He walked over, placing a firm finger over my lips before I could open my mouth to speak.

“Go get ready. Let’s have a good day, yeah?” He nodded down at me pleased with my obedience as I tucked my tail between my legs and made my way to the bathroom.

_________________________________________

I didn’t realize the extent of his hypocrisy back then, but it was, and still is, very much alive. Maybe that’s why I was so attracted to him; the hypocrite in me recognized the one in him. Or maybe it was the way we both compartmentalized any real feelings. No regard for his wife, my reputation, his reputation. I could choose when to feel my feelings, simply sliding them back on the shelf alongside my reservations, my nervousness, my general ability to know right from wrong, and everything else in between that kept me awake at night.

I sleepwalked through the museum he took me to, the only thought occupying my brain was the way he held my hand, coaxing me along through each exhibit.

When he finally spoke, I shook my head.

“What?”

“They preached traditional family values,” he motioned up to the photo of Jackie O and her young daughter swathed in JFK’s arms, “but he definitely had a wandering dick.”

“You’re not doing much to help your case.” I unlinked from his arm, reaching out to stroke a careful finger across the canvas.

“Well, I’m not, and never have been, the president of the United States.”

“And if you were?” I looked at him from over my shoulder, a playful smirk appearing on his lips.

“You ever heard of the Code of Hammurabi?”

I shoved him playfully, “Oh, shut the fuck up.”

The rest of the afternoon took on an airy feel. We lingered in downtown Hyannis before hopping back in his car, aimlessly driving until I suggested we visit Provincetown.

“We used to stay here every summer before my parents split.” I told him, eyes peeled to the window as I looked for any familiarity in the sites around us as the city unfurled itself.

“Funny,” he looked over at me, his right hand once again finding its usual spot, cradled against the meat of my thigh, “I used to spend every summer with my family in Hyannis.”

“Is the cottage a family place?”

“Well, sort of. No one has really used it since my dad kicked the bucket.”

I didn’t expect him to reveal that kind of information to me but I went with my first instinct, questioning, figuring he wouldn’t have given me that sliver of an inkling if he didn’t want to talk about it.

“When did he die?”

“I was sixteen, maybe? Heart attack on Christmas day.”

“Ouch,” I squeezed his hand, “that’s personal.”

“He was older.” He added, fingertips thrumming the dash and his thumb held closely to the wheel.

I nodded along, not really sure if treading lightly or shutting up altogether was the better option.

“He was from Brookline. My mom is from Medford. They would meet up in Hyannis to, ya know, rendezvous. Away from his wife.” He glanced over quickly, his brow sloping at the arch as he watched my face change at the realization.

I looked over at him, my eyes wide, “That’s scandalous, honestly, but I’m more worried about the bed we slept in.”

“Pretty sure the sheets have been washed in the last forty years, Olivia.” He squeezed my thigh reassuringly.

“Some stains never come clean, Jeryd.”

Ironically enough, I wasn’t sure if I was talking about the stain that blemished my soul by proving that the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree in his regard.

He smirked at me as he parallel parked on a side street.

We decided to hold off on eating until it cooled off, the June heat hitting its peak around the time we set off downtown, making us both amble in and out of the gift shops littering Commercial Street for any relief from its bleating rays.

“I could’ve spent the afternoon fucking you in the air conditioning, you know?” He grumbled as we walked back out into the heat.

I stopped, looking over at him, “Didn’t know that was an option.”

“Well, it was,” he grabbed my hand, pulling me closer to him, “but now we’re here.”

He eased behind me, hands on my hips, walking single file as a sea of tourists came our way.

“I could be right here,” he purred into my ear, his left hand snaking around my waist below my navel, applying pressure right at my pubic bone, “right where you like me.”

I looked around, sighing at the prospect of fucking him in the bathroom of a building that appeared to be painted with every color of the rainbow.

“How fucking old are we?” I asked as he dragged me inside the multi flavor shop, forgoing a response to the lady behind the counter as she waved and greeted us, her glazed over eyes following us with curiosity.

“Old enough to know better,” he flung the bathroom door open, slamming and locking it behind him as I backed myself up against the sink, “too stupid to care.”

It wasn’t long until he was fucking into me from behind, his hands grasped onto the porcelain basin as his nose found a place at the shell of my ear, occasionally rutting against the hair there.

Each time one of us glanced at the other in the mirror, we would laugh, each thrust distorting the sound amongst the sea of stickers, particularly ones that said Fuck The Patriarchy and God is a Woman, plastered along the neon tinged bathroom, the nineties track blasting loudly into the confined space.

If god was a woman, I figured, she wouldn’t be too mad at me for what I did. What I would do in the grand scheme of things.

Poetically enough, he pushed me to my knees, shoving himself into my eagerly waiting mouth. As his cock thickened and his whole body tensed, he pulled my head down to his root so he could come deeply down my throat.

A shrill knock on the door startled me and quickly scrambled to my feet, dragging my underwear ungraciously up my thighs.

“Uh, just a second!”

He clasped his belt and readjusted his shirt, reaching out to push my hair away from my face.

“Go and I’ll meet you out front.”

I nodded, cracking the door open enough so I could slide through the opening.

From behind, I didn’t immediately recognize her, but when she turned around, hands full of paraphernalia and niknaks, we both stood still, looking at one another in shock.

“Good god, Olivia, what are you doing here?!” She shoved her trinkets on an empty shelf by the bathroom door and pulled me into a hug.

“Hey, Kimmy,” I patted my step mother’s back whilst simultaneously feeling the blood drain from my face.

She pulled back to look at me, “Are you okay?”

I nodded profusely, reaching out to close the bathroom door as Jeryd tried to exit. The door unceremoniously bobbed open a few times, my hand applying more and more pressure against its spine as he tried the doorknob and I watched in absolute horror as Kimmy looked from me and over my shoulder as the door pounded on its frame.

“Had some bad oysters. You definitely do not want to go in there.” I lied, rubbing my stomach for a dramatic effect.

She nodded, eyes widening as she spoke, “Looks like they’re really putting up a fight.”

Once Jeryd really put his back into it, I went flying forward, the door creaking open as he walked out.

“Those aren’t bad looking oysters.” Kimmy commented, a smirk appearing on her face as she sized Jeryd up.

_________________________________________

Once Kimmy paid for her loot while I stood awkwardly to her side like a lost child, we followed her outside and down the block where my father sat unsuspectingly under a large parasol. Jeryd had tried and failed to walk the opposite way down the street, Kimmy giving us both a look as I pulled him back to me, knowing full well what had transpired in that bathroom, loving nothing more than to watch me sweat.

“Look who I found,” Kimmy announced as my father’s head swiveled around at the sound of her voice.

“Ollie!” He was on his feet in an instant, arms wrapping around me, lifting me off the ground momentarily.

“Hi,” I squeaked out, finding my footing as Jeryd shoved his hands deeply in his pockets. An unsettling smile pulled at his lips as he watched the scene unfold.

“What are you doing up here?” He asked and I looked over at Jeryd again like he was about to be my savior through the awkwardly crushing scene.

“Field trip,” I shrugged, “We broke off from some of the students to grab a bite to eat and ran into Kimmy.”

“Liv had bad oysters,” Kimmy added with a sympathetic nod, “She was absolutely dying in the bathroom when I knocked.”

Jeryd's eyes narrowed at me and I closed mine long enough to regain blood flow to my brain as it misfired along with Kimmy’s recounting of what happened.

“He’s a professor at Stony and I’ve been working with him. A bunch of us decided to, uh, come see Plymouth monument and hit the Kennedy museums.”

My father turned slightly, the heavy chair dragging across the pavement, and looked at Jeryd.

He stood, offering his hand, doing the awkward white male handshake that men of their age tend to default to.

That’s when it hit me. Seeing them together, how close in age they were, wondering how many daddy issues I had to have for this particular moment to happen to me. Was there a set amount, like a ticket token, to hit the fucked up jackpot that I seemed to have won in that very moment. If I could have shed my skin and slithered away, I very much would have.

“Why don’t you guys sit and eat with us?”

I looked at Jeryd for any sign of confirmation but he very much let me know, silently, of course, with a look, that I was in the lead here. When I sat down, he pulled a chair from the table beside ours and pushed it next to mine.

I heard my father explain something about an annual car show and if I spoke to my dad regularly, maybe I would’ve been able to avoid running into him altogether. Other than that, their words were muffled. My inner monologue bleating, debating on fleeing the scene altogether, I wished for nothing more than to be a man in that moment. Men don’t care when things are awkward, and from an outsider’s perspective, nothing was wrong at the table. But the way Kimmy looked at me, the way her eyes dragged along my face, I knew she would eventually want to know what exactly I was doing and who I was doing it with.

Somewhere between the constant droning about the weather, the political climate, and shared similarities, Jeryd and my father finally shut up. Their constant chatter had been filler for me, and I suddenly felt small when they all looked at me, waiting as if I was supposed to chime in.

“I think that dinner reservation is ready, Professor.”

Jeryd cleared his throat, “Right, of course, it was nice to meet you both.”

We both rose, him stepping back enough to give me space for goodbye embraces, listening to me make excuse after excuse as to why I hadn’t been to visit them.

“Make sure you stay away from those bad oysters, Liv.” Kimmy called out and I waved sheepishly back at her as Jeryd and I walked in the direction where he had parked the car.

_________________________________________

The ride back to the cottage was tense and quiet. He didn’t reach over to touch me, nor did he make any effort to speak to me.

“You looked like a little kid at the adult’s table back there,” he finally said to me when we were inside the cottage, staring silently at one another across the kitchen bar.

“What?” I shook my head, scoffing at him.

“You just,” he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “you locked up. I’ve never seen you look so small.”

I shrugged, looking away from him in what I would describe now as hot, bubbling shame.

“I fucked up by bringing you here.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked into the living room.

“What was I supposed to do?!” I cried out, following him closely. “She saw us basically come out of the bathroom together.”

“You could have, I don’t know, let me walk away like I was trying to do.” He turned around and looked at me and for the first time, I saw him genuinely upset.

“But, no,” he continued, “you had to drag me right down with you, didn’t you?” He spat.

I laughed incredulously at him, all the while stepping closer and closer to where he stood. “Yeah, like you haven’t been dragging me to hell everyday since I’ve known you!”

He let out a shrill laugh, his canines showing, before leaning down closely into my face, “You know what this has always been about. You made your choice. You’re happy to take the perks that come with being my mistress. Don’t act like you’re some poor, innocent woman. You always knew exactly what this was, what we are.”

“Perks?! There are perks,” I let out a shaky laugh, “Please tell me what they are and where the fuck I can find them!”

He shook his head, walking over toward the window, maintaining a safe amount of distance from me.

“I swear to god, the only thing that would make you happy is if I slapped a collar and leash on you and led you around town all night.” He said with a groan.

“The only thing that would make me happy is if you weren’t such a lying hypocrite.” I stalked back towards the bedroom in a fury, grabbing my overnight bag, stuffing my strewn out contents wherever they would fit, dragging it to the bathroom to grab my toiletries and dirty clothes.

“What are you doing?” He appeared in the doorway, a look of discomfort and disdain painting his features at my very presence.

“Going home,” I brushed past him, making my way towards the living room.

“Like hell you are,” he jerked the bag I was holding, effectively pulling me back to him like a rubberband threatening to snap.

“Is this how you act every time your wife leaves?” I jerked the bag again but I was no match against his ironclad grip. “You do her like this?”

I watched as he unzipped the bag, dumped it upside down, the contents hitting the floor like broken glass at our feet.

“A fucking mission trip?” I laughed at him, “She fucking left you and it’s no goddamn wonder!”

He pressed me against the wall, his forearms resting on either side of my head as he seethed down at me. His jaw clenched and for a moment, I closed my eyes, gearing up for whatever he was about to unleash upon me.

“You let my mother fill your head with fucking delusions and get disappointed when I don’t meet your expectations.”

I shook my head, “I had expectations for someone I knew couldn’t meet those expectations, so that’s my fault for expecting anything from you at all.”

He moved away from me, allowing me to sidestep him, easing my way into the bedroom across the hall. When I locked the door, I heard him sigh, a heavy hand smacking against the door caused me to jump.

“I’ve never cried because of someone’s lack of feelings for me, you know? I’ve never had anyone to cry over in that regard. You’re the first, and you’ll also be the last, or so help me god through this embarrassment.” I yelled at the door, hearing him sigh again, footfalls growing more distant as he walked through the house and away from the scene.

Eventually I fell asleep in one of the twin beds, its stale sheets and comforter providing me with a false sense of comfort amongst the discord.

_________________________________________

I woke up on my side facing the wall. For the most part, I slept contentedly, only waking when I heard Jeryd messing with the door, the knob jingling erratically as he tried unsuccessfully to pick the lock. I thought about asking him to stop a few times, wondering why he even gave a solitary fuck about getting inside, but realized my silence was far more personal than any words I could mutter.

“I’m tired of acting like I don’t care, because I do. I fucking do, and that’s what makes this even worse.”

I jumped as he spoke from behind me, rolling over to see that he had crammed himself in the opposite twin bed, legs bent and arms crossed against his chest, his words making him grimace as if his own honesty was poisoning him.

“Don’t,” I shook my head, “it’s too late for a death row confession.”

“I just spent three hours breaking into this room to get to you.” He sat up and looked at me, head cocking to the side when I didn’t flinch at his declaration, “I thought about leaving you here last night, you know?

I rolled my eyes, sighing. “I wish you would have.”

“I made a shitty decision and you’re a testament to that matter, but you don’t get to decide my feelings for you.” He said, finally looking comfortable enough to continue, “I may not sail a thousand ships for you, but if I didn’t give a fuck, I wouldn’t have continued this past the first night.”

Somehow over the course of us staring at one another silently, gauging eachother’s temperaments, he made his way over to my respective bed, climbing in behind me, molding himself around my body.

I listened intently as he told me about his train wreck of a marriage, “I chose my wife because she provided stability and consistency and safety and kindness and support. We were not exactly madly in love when we married. Our marriage was based on a set of rational, mutually beneficial criteria and we’ve built it from there. I make no claim that it is a passionate, fiery love. But we do love each other,” his long term political goals, cackling shrilly when he told me he would be president one day and would take me to the White House with him.

“She will wise up and leave me in the next few years.” He said in regards to his wife.

It was stupid to indulge myself in his fantasy but it felt good.

He told me how he and his brother used to lay in the twin beds, cooking up ideas on how they could both be President at the same time. Jason, who I later learned was the other set of initials on the doorframe, gave up and decided on being a professional baseball player sometime after he turned fourteen, giving it up altogether to become a lawyer once most of his childish notions left him. But Jeryd, he clung to his dream, and I felt somewhat flattered that he decided to share it with me.

It was far-fetched, but so was the idea of us laying together, spinning our web of lies, content to fall even deeper without any regard for how hard the impact would be when we landed.

Eventually we both fell asleep with his aspirations in full force in the background.

_________________________________________

Leaving the cottage felt almost bittersweet. On one hand, I felt like I had survived a war, and on the other, I felt like we had made a breakthrough of sorts amongst the rubble we were leaving behind.

Before we left, though, he made it a point to back me up against the guestroom’s door frame, marking my height against the wood, my full adult height paling in comparison to the teenage boy’s marked far above.

“A little pointless, don’t you think?” I asked as I turned around and watched as he marked my initials above the new line.

“Nah,” he shook his head, “You’ll be back and we will see if you’ve grown any.”

I rolled my eyes, “Maybe they’ll turn this place into a museum once you’re president and I will forever be emblazoned into American history.”

He managed to crack a smile at me before carrying my bag out to the car.

The ride back to Stony Brook felt shorter than it had on the way to Hyannis. We stopped once for gas and another time so we could climb in the backseat and fuck once we both realized we had gone twenty four hours without touching one another and the prospect of reentering secretive society really took hold.

We made plans to run together the following morning as we said our goodbyes in the university’s parking lot. I took the long way home once I was back in my car, timing it perfectly as I watched his front door close as I pulled into my driveway.

Only this time, his car wasn’t the only car parked in his driveway.

Taglist: @aurorag98

[kawaii-angelanne]

TW/CW: nudity of minors (not sexual!), all characters (except the teacher) are in high school

KEY TAGS: spoiler-free/pre-canon, female reader (afab and themes of womanhood), second pov (reader's pov), meet-cute, fluff, strangers to ???

WORD COUNT: 6202

CROSS POST: ao3

OPENING NOTE: thanks for clicking on this! please do not repost, copy, modify, or overall plagiarize this work anywhere else please. plagiarism is never acceptable, both in mla 8 format and in fanfiction! for translations, message me, and we can talk about it! reblogs, comments, and likes are super appreciated :>

SUMMARY: "'So…' you trail off, shutting the door behind you, 'How should I do this? Do you have a certain pose in mind or…?'

The blue-haired painter (painter-in-training?) turns to you, 'Well, in order to start, it would be best if you began taking off your clothes.'

'E-excuse me!?'"

Or where Kitagawa Yusuke needs a nude model, and you unknowingly sign up.

“Why don’t you just get a job?” your friend, Yanai Toshiko, points out the most obvious solution to your money problem while chewing in one side of her mouth, “It’s pretty easy these days. All you have to do is take a magazine from the job stand in Shibuya Station, look for a job that interests you, and call them up.” 

“Right, and,” your other friend, Akagawa Yokkako, takes a moment to swallow her food before continuing, “if you tell them you’re a Kosei High student, they will most definitely hire you.” 

“But that’s so much work!” you groan loudly, burying your head in your arms on the table and then lifting your head up high enough to be able to see your friends, “Besides, my brother’s birthday is in a week. I wouldn’t get the money in time even if I got the job.” 

“That’s your fault for leaving it to the last minute,” Yanai clicks open the next tier in her bento box, “I don’t understand how you’re still at Kosei with all your procrastination.” 

You perk up at this, “Uh, just because I don’t do my work weeks ahead of time like everyone else here doesn’t mean I don’t do well, thank you very much.”

“What’re you even getting your brother that costs so much anyways?” Yokkako finishes the last of the bun she bought from the school store, crumpling the transparent wrapper in between her hands. 

“Limited-edition action figure set of this anime he watches,” you drag your chopsticks absentmindedly across your school lunch, depressed from just remembering the price tag.

Yanai admires her octopus hotdogs, her chopsticks holding one in midair, before eating it whole, “Can’t you get him, like, crayons or something?” 

You stop swiveling your chopsticks across the pile of rice on your tray at her suggestion, “He’s not six. He’s turning twelve!” 

“What’s the difference?” Yokkako snickers behind her hand, earning one smack on the shoulder from you. 

“Seriously, guys,” you now resort to hopelessly picking up singular grains of rice with your chopstick, “Do any of you know how I can get cash quick and easy?” 

“Well—” 

“And legally.” 

Yokkako wilters at the last part, her eagerness to tell you to be a cam girl or start selling drugs vanishing in a flash. While she isn’t involved in stuff like that, you knew she would suggest such a thing anyways, which would have annoyed you more. 

Yanai nimbles on her chopsticks in thought, “Y’know, on my way to the teacher’s office—I had to drop something off—, I overheard one of the art students asking around for a model. He said he was willing to pay in cash.”  

“Really!?” you straighten up from your slumped position, eyes sparkling at the prospect of possibly getting enough money for your brother, “Who? Do you know how much he’s paying? Did anyone say yes?” 

“Hmm,” Yanai places her chopsticks down, “I only heard his voice, so I don’t know who he is, sorry. I didn’t stick around long enough to hear everything, so...”

 “Ask one of the art teachers!” Yokkako chirps up, “They might know who it is. I think their office is on the…third floor?” 

You turn to Yanai for an answer, who nods silently as she focuses on packing up her lunch, and, with her confirmation, you immediately stand up from your chair, “I’m going to go now then! Can’t have anyone taking my precious money! I’ll see you guys later!” 

Dashing off, you try not to bump into unsuspecting students, spitting sorries when you do. You’re going to find this art student no matter what!  

“Oh, right, I heard Kitagawa asking one of my other students to be his model yesterday,” the first art teacher you encountered answers, “She said she was too busy.”

Still catching your breath from sprinting up three flights of stairs, you stare blankly at her. Her answer as to who was asking for a model was hardly an answer. For all you know, there could be tens of Kitagawas in this school (it would be funny if they were all in the same art class too). Also, why did she talk more about the person he asked? She isn’t your main concern.    

She returns to her work, so you press the subject further, “Kitagawa…?”  

“You don’t know?” she makes the effort to turn her chair to face you completely, “Kitagawa Yusuke? He’s one of Madarame’s students.”

“Who?” 

“Madarame, the artist?” 

When you shake your head, she gapes at you but immediately pulls herself together, “Never mind. What do you need Kitagawa for anyways?” 

“I was hoping to ask him if I could be his model,” you don’t bother to explain all the itty bitty details about how you desperately need the cash; she doesn’t need to know that. 

The teacher squints at the grid paper taped on the wall in front of her, “I have him next, so I can ask for you. I’ll email you what he says. What’s your name? Include your first name as well, so I know what email to use.” 

After telling her your name, she writes it down on a blank notepad, and you thank her for the help before leaving. At least you don’t have to track down this Kitagawa Yusuke. 

You slide the door open and then close. Checking your watch, you yelp at the time. Class on the fifth floor is starting in three minutes, and you don’t even have your bag! 

“Crap, crap, crap!” you repeat under your breath and push your legs to move faster, brisk walk accelerating to a full-out run. 

As you make an abrupt turn around the corner to the downstairs, you harshly crash into someone. You shut your eyes, groaning when you make contact with the ground. Still reeling from the fall, you see the obstacle you bumped into, who is somehow gracefully sitting upon the linoleum floor. 

“Pretty boy…” the words flow out of your mouth without a second thought, and your hand slaps itself over your mouth. 

But really, is there anyone who wouldn’t have the same reaction? Navy blue hair framing the boy’s cheeks so perfectly and shining like it belongs in a shampoo commercial. The lack of blazer all students have to wear with their uniform revealing his lissome frame. The longest eyelashes you’ve ever seen. The most luscious lips—.

“Are you okay?” 

At his words, you cease your shameless ogling, “Y-yes! S-sorry, are you okay? I should have been watching where I was going!” 

“I’m quite alright, thank you,” he gets up from the floor, brushing one stray hair away from his face, “Do be careful though. It would not be safe to bump into anyone else like that.” 

Before you can retort, you remember why you were in such a rush earlier and rise to your feet, “Oh god, I’m really going to be late now! Again, sorry, but gotta blast!” 

You abandon him and take off at the same speed as before. Screw getting your bag; you can just ask Yukkako for paper and a pencil. 

Your mind races back to the slender guy you bumped into as you scurry up the stairs. You’ve never met him before. However, you don’t think your paths will cross any time soon. It’s been a month since school started, but you haven’t seen him in any of your classes. Besides, he’s too…graceful. And pretty! Definitely not your crowd. 

The bell rings once you reach the fifth floor, and you frantically scramble to the classroom door. You practically fall through the back door. Somehow, no one but Yukkako notices your tumble in and waves her hand rapidly. The teacher strides in the front door the moment you sit down, and you breathe out a sigh of relief.  

The moment you step foot in your dorm room, you toss your bag to a corner of the room and launch yourself into the comfort of your bed. Thank god your roommate isn’t here right now. As always, a day spent at the illustrious Kosei High deserves a nap.

Too exhausted to take off your uniform, you snuggle on the top of your bed (also too exhausted to get inside the blankets). Closing your eyes, you feel yourself hazing out of reality and into the wondrous land of slumber. 

Ding!

Your eyes snap open, tranquility gone and irritation kicked in. When you reach down into one of your pockets, you pull out the rectangular device. The brightness burns, and you don’t hesitate to lower it.

When you read the subject, “Art Model Information”, you sit up from your bed like a vampire from their coffin. Unlocking your phone, you hastily scan the message. 

“‘I asked Kitagawa…need to go to Madarame’s studio tomorrow…might let you model!?’ I’m not even hired!?” 

You almost throw the phone down on the mattress out of frustration, sleep disturbed for this. You have to travel to his place and aren’t even guaranteed the job? What if you travel for nothing? That would be a waste of a good subway fee!

To calm yourself, you take a deep breath and release it with most of your annoyance. There aren’t any better options, so what choice do you have? 

Scrolling down the email, you find the address of this “Madarame’s studio”—you still don’t know who Madarame is—and copy it to paste into your navigation app. 

Your finger repeatedly jams the doorbell as you cower underneath the veranda too small to properly cover anyone. Even though the forecast reported no rain, it began to downpour mere minutes ago with no relent in sight. Fortunately, you had a jacket to drape over your head, but it’s not going to hold for much longer at this rate. 

“Oh, come on, answer the door already!” you whine.

You pressed the button just once when you first arrived, but, the longer you went on without a response, the more fervent your pressing became. Maybe you should be more patient. However, how good would a drenched model be? You need to get in soon, or else. 

Before you resort to holding down the buzzer, a voice slices through the heavy rainfall, “Who is it? If it’s Sensei you want, he’s not here.” 

You pause briefly at the strange familiarity of the voice before answering, “Hi, I’m from Kosei High! I don’t know her name, but one of your teachers told you about me? It’s raining pretty heavy out here, so, if you could let me in, that’d be great!” 

“One moment.” 

The transceiver disconnects. Footsteps approach behind the door, and the voice’s speaker unlocks it. You can’t help but gasp when the door opens to reveal who was talking to you. 

The pretty boy you bumped into yesterday! 

“It’s you!” 

“It’s you…” 

You’re too stunned to move, despite the rain pouring (partially) on you. So, this is Kitagawa Yusuke? You even said yesterday that your paths wouldn’t cross any time soon! What’re the odds?! 

“...Will you be coming inside or…?” Pretty Boy, now identified as Kitagawa Yusuke, raises an elegant brow while stepping to the side to let you through. 

“Oh! Yeah, sorry!” you step inside and take off the jacket on your head, “I just didn’t think that you’re Kitagawa! Crazy coincidence, right?” 

“Indeed, this truly is a trick of fate…”

“‘Trick?’” 

What did he mean by that? 

Kitagawa doesn’t answer you and immediately begins to circle around you. He mumbles to himself, too incoherent for you to understand. The longer this goes on, the antsier you get. It’s as if you’re being picked apart with his eyes punctuated by those sharp lashes. 

It’s not exactly the most comfortable experience. 

Before you can ask him if something is wrong, he returns in front of you, done observing you like an abstract work of art, “I suppose you will do for now. Normally, I would try to find a more inspiring subject, but I cannot afford to on such time constraints. Do not worry about taking your shoes off, and, please, follow me.”  

Your eye twitches at his slightly objectifying attitude, but you follow him anyway. Before leaving, though, you wring out your soaked jacket directly over the poor excuse of a doormat. Seeing the water permeate fills you with mischievous satisfaction. Seeing how far away he was, you run over to catch up.  

It doesn’t take long for you two to enter a small studio room. Towards the backend of the room there’s a window to let natural light in. However, there isn’t exactly a lot of “natural light” shining through due to the storm. The ceiling light seems to provide just enough lighting, some darkness accumulating in the corner. 

Various painting and sketching supplies are shelved in the back of the room as well. Three stools are pushed to the side. One stool sits in the middle, and an easel without its canvas in front of it.  

Kitagawa goes ahead of you to set up, and you stand awkwardly by the doorway with your jacket over your arms. 

“So…” you trail off, shutting the door behind you, “How should I do this? Do you have a certain pose in mind or…?” 

The blue-haired painter (painter-in-training?) turns to you, “Well, in order to start, it would be best if you began taking off your clothes.” 

“E-excuse me!?” you almost drop the jacket onto the wooden floor from pure shock. 

No…is this a nude modeling gig!? Even though themes of nudity happen to make up a majority of famous paintings, you never even considered this would be the case. You’re also a high school student, just like him! Is this even legal? 

“Were you unaware that you would be modeling nude?” he strokes his chin, clearly confused, “I made sure to specify that to the teacher though…” 

You gulp. Maybe you should have read the email entirely…

“You are more than welcome to leave if you do not wish to do this anymore,” Kitagawa already makes moves to clear up shop, disappointed and…annoyed(?) at this turn of events, “However, if it comforts you, I have absolutely no interest in your naked figure. I am purely doing this for art. I assure you I have no ulterior motives other than painting another piece of work for Sensei.” 

“Uh, w-well,” you fidget about, not completely unswayed by his words (even though you should be!), “h-how much will you be paying?” 

“Did the teacher not tell you that either?” his brows furrow even more (you really should have read the email entirely), “It might not be much, but, when we finish, I will pay you about one hundred and fifty thousand yen.” 

One hundred and fifty thousand!? That would cover your brother’s birthday gift and still leave you some cash to spend! All of that for modeling? Granted, you’ll be naked, but it would totally be worth it! 

Wait. Jeez, are you really that desperate for money that you’ll strip for some guy you just met? …No, no, that isn’t the case here! You’re contributing to the art world! So what if you’re in the nude? If this painting is a hit, you’ll be famous, have money, and make your brother happy for this birthday. Well, secretly famous. You don’t want this spreading around, especially to your parents.

“I’ll do it,” you declare despite your heart beating wildly at what you’re committing to, “B-but on one condition! I won’t be officially associated with this. I don’t want people to know that you painted me…naked. So, I don’t want to see my name anywhere near this, got it?!” 

“You have my word, thank you,” he softens his curt tone in gratitude, and his lips even curve into a small, pleasant smile. 

Your heart stutters for a moment at the unexpected nicety. While Kitagawa hasn’t been outright scornful, you couldn’t help but feel iced out at first. 

“Do not mind me as you undress,” his back faces you out of consideration, “I will prepare in the meanwhile. Let me know when you are ready.” 

“Okay, thanks.” 

Even though his back is already turned to you, you turn your back to him as well for added protection. Well, it would only be your rear side instead of your front side he would see if he turned around (if he does, you’re leaving without a second thought!). When getting ready for today, you opted for a comfortable but still nice outfit rather than your uniform. Had you known you would be modeling naked, you would have just come in sweatpants and a hoodie. 

Sitting on the stool, you first remove your shoes. You strip out of your clothes one by one, stacking them into a messy pile on the stool closest to you. Your hands pause at your undergarments. As the room’s chill travels across your skin, goosebumps prickle your skin.

You take a deep breath. 

One. 

Two. 

Three! 

You unclasp your bra. 

Another deep breath. 

One. 

Two.

Three! 

You push down your underwear.

Adding the two articles to the unorganized mountain of clothes, which had somehow not collapsed yet, you turn around to face Kitagawa. Your hands wrap around your torso, insecurity trickling in like water from a sōzu. Now that you’re actually naked, you don’t feel as confident as you did before when you agreed. 

Still, you don’t want to back out now, not after you’ve gone through the process of taking off your clothes. Ugh, you better like that gift, Hanzu!  

“Is everything all right?” Kitagawa asks, back still to you.

“Y-yep!” you breathe deeply again to steel your nerves, “I-I’m all ready now!”

He turns around, seeing your naked body for the first time. Despite that, his insouciant expression doesn’t change. He merely clutches his chin between his fingers again; you could almost see the cogwheels turning inside his mind. His ever-observant gaze causes you to cover yourself up even more, your hands sliding up more and legs gradually crossing over each other. 

“Stop right there,” he commands with such purpose it freezes you into submission, “This heightened vulnerability and bareness… It perfectly encapsulates both innocence and womanhood at the same time! To think that you would be able to deliver such a concept… Yes, I can work with this. How foolish of me to doubt fate earlier.” 

“Th-thanks?” you’re not sure whether you should be pleased or creeped out or if that even sounded like you.  

“Please, remain still for now,” he sits at the easel, pencil in hand. 

“Sure thing…” you search for an interesting crack in the wall to distract yourself with. With the state of the place, there are plenty of cracks to choose from, which means plenty of story material. 

You’re unsure how much time has passed. All has been quiet save for your breathing and Kitagawa’s sketching. Since the session started, you’ve gotten more comfortable. Not completely, but definitely better than before! 

However, you now face a new dilemma. 

As you learned in psychology class, your brain requires stimulation. When it’s not getting stimulated, like right now, the urge to do something eats away at you like an annoying parasite. And it’s definitely not helping that you’ve been standing the entire time! But Kitagawa told you to stay still. You may have just met him today, but you feel that disobeying an artist’s orders, especially one as passionate as Kitagawa—that’s the impression you get anyway—is just as bad as waking a sleepwalker. 

If you can’t move your body, you can at least move something else. 

“So, how’s the drawing going?” 

His hand falters in the line he was sketching out. With a sigh, he quickly erases it before redrawing. You quietly wince, not intending to irritate him. Maybe you should have realized that talking to him would have snapped him out of his artistic mojo. 

He continues to sketch your figure, eyes flickering to you and then the canvas. The silence is even louder, and you’re too ashamed to ask again. Is there perhaps another crack you already didn’t make a story for? 

“The sketch is almost finished,” he finally speaks, and you almost relax completely at an answer despite not wearing any clothes, “Sorry, I understand modeling for a painting can be difficult. Would you like to take a short break? I completed the part I was working on and can afford to pause now.” 

A break? You thought he would reprimand you for speaking, but that was oddly considerate of him. Well, not like he hasn’t been, but…

“How close are you to finishing? Because, if it’s not too long, then I can handle it.” 

He surveys his drawing, “Fifteen minutes should be sufficient enough.”

“Then we can continue, no worries,” you adjust your position to its original state.

“You have my thanks,” he nods and even flashes a gentle smile before resuming the sketch.

After a few more soft pencil scratchings and a few more riveting narratives of the Cracken terrorizing the town with no end in sight, Kitagawa picks up the small, deformed eraser and rubs it strongly against the canvas. His effaces become more and more frequent until he slumps over completely. Despair and hopelessness radiates from him. 

“Uh, Kitagawa? Everything all right?” you make it your best effort to not move while also straining to get a better look at him from behind the easel. 

“Something’s not right,” he lifts only his head to meet your eyes, “For some unknown reason, I cannot properly draw this last piece. Perhaps it’s the angle of your legs? Or maybe your arms?”  

“I swear I didn’t move at all! Not even an inch!” you prepare yourself for a scolding, even though you are one hundred percent certain you didn’t move your legs at all no matter how badly you wanted to. 

“I never said you did,” his expression shows no irritation, but his words still cut into you like the crack in the wall, “Allow me to think on this for a moment.” 

Mumbling unintelligibly to himself, he pinches his chin between his fingers as his eyes scrutinize you once more like they had in the beginning. You immediately avert your gaze to the other side of the wall. Is it like an artist thing, or does he have this innate ability to pick you apart with his eyes alone? 

“That’s it!” he sits up again with such a fervency it almost inspires you to do the same, “Please cross your left leg thirty degrees more inward.”

“D-degrees?” 

With hesitant estimation—what exactly is thirty degrees?—you slowly slide your left leg.

“No, apologies, I meant your right leg.”   

At his new orders, you, silent and compliant, move your right leg back to where it was originally and repeat what you did earlier to your left leg this time.

“A bit more, please, and point your right foot as well.” 

You struggle to maintain your balance at the new position. Praying he doesn't make you do this for much longer, you attempt to keep the shaking to a minimum.

He tuts his disapproval, and your obedience slowly transitions into annoyance. 

“Could you curve your foot a little more?”

“Please lower your right leg a little.” 

“...Try moving your left leg outward.” 

“No, move it back.” 

“Why don’t you just do it for me then!?” you practically yell out, frustrated from having to adjust your already-sore limbs every second. 

“Good idea, it would save us precious time,” he stands up straight from his seat with such poise and grace, it sends shivers down your spine.

“W-wait a minute, you’re coming over here?” your arms hug you tighter as an unsettling realization crawls on your back. 

Not only is Kitagawa going to be extremely up close and personal, but he’s also going to put his hands all over your arms and legs and bend them at impossible angles!  

He pauses in his steps with confusion scrawled all over his features, “Yes? Is that not what you asked?” 

“W-well, it is, but…but I’m naked!” you state as if it’s the obvious reason (because it is the obvious reason). 

“But you have been for the past hour or so,” he raises an eyebrow in even deeper confusion, “What makes now so different?” 

“I’m naked,” you strongly emphasize the word “naked” as if Kitagawa somehow did not see an issue in the concept, “I don’t know about you, Kitagawa, but I am not comfortable with you putting your grubby mitts on me as you spread my legs and whatnot. It’s already enough that I’m modeling naked for you!” 

“Spread your legs? Why would I ever—?” he stops mid-sentence, finally understanding what you were trying to get at, and his pale cheeks flush red, as if dragged from the center to the red side of the color wheel, “O-oh, I-I see…” 

With a clearing of his throat, he continues, “My apologies for being so oblivious to your concerns. However, you currently seem to be incapable of properly executing what I envision for this painting. What to do…?”

Ain’t no way is he touching you! There has to be another way!

“M-maybe!” you interject before he decides that A) you’re not a fit model for him anymore and thus denied the pay you were promised or B) there is no other choice but for him to treat you as if you are nothing more than a wooden lay figure, “Maybe you can…pose like how you want me to? And then I can…mirror it? Yeah? How’s that?” 

He stares blankly at you, and, as if a three-second timer went off, he livens back up, “What a splendid idea! Please do your best to imitate me.” 

After adjusting his stance to better match yours, he first, as asked of you before, moves his left leg slightly higher to the crux where his legs crossed over. Oh, so that’s what thirty degrees are. Then, with a shift of his torso, he freezes with his eyes intently on you, silently commanding you to imitate him. You immediately follow suit, dumbfounded at how easy it was to copy him when you had failed multiple times. 

“Perfect, now please stay like that for just a moment more,” he returns to his stool behind the canvas, pencil already in hand.

You sigh with relief, having successfully escaped any more torment, and focus back on doing what you were hired to do. 

This time, instead of continuing to mentally write fanfiction between the crack on the left side of the wall and the crack on the right side of the wall—a true Shakespearean tragedy split by the great schism in the middle—, you find yourself staring at Kitagawa. Since you’re barely a meter away from him, you can see him up close for much longer than yesterday. 

He’s so focused. His dark-blue eyes would unblinkingly scan across the canvas as his pencil dragged across the surface. Somehow, a mere glimpse to you can provide enough material to last him minutes of drawing. While his extremely hunched-over posture is left to be desired, his zeal clearly shows with how much he’s leaning in. Any further, and his nose would be touching the canvas! 

You also take the time to comment (mentally, of course) on the strange seventy-thirty hair split he has going on. When it comes to parting hair, most go for a twenty-eighty or thirty-seventy split. However, he went the other way and managed to make it look as charming as ever. Even now, side parts aren’t the latest in style, but anyone who saw him would strongly disagree. Somehow, the right side of his hair perfectly frames his cheek. Yes, he has to push a strand or two out of the way every now and then. But, for the majority, it stays perfectly still, coiffed with enough curvature to not appear so limp. 

Urgh, he’s a pretty boy in every sense of the word! 

After some back and forth from behind the easel to you, the saccades shorter and shorter each time, his eyes then shift to your own. At the sudden eye contact, you flinch, caught red-handed. 

“Is something the matter? You’ve been staring at me for quite some time,” he asks with a raised eyebrow. 

“O-oh, it’s nothing!” you laugh awkwardly, trying to act as if you weren’t staring at him for the past couple of minutes, “I-I was just zoning out, haha! Don’t mind me!” 

He accepts your excuse without a second thought (is he really that gullible?), “Well, I am just about done with the sketch. All that is left is to paint it. I greatly appreciate your service and—.”

“Ooo! Can I see?” you jump up from the wooden stool and bounce over to see what he was drawing for the past hour. 

Kitagawa immediately stiffens at your close proximity, but you’re too enraptured with what’s before you. 

When people meet you, there are some words that easily come to mind: rambunctious, tomboyish, immature, incorrigible. However, you don’t see any hint of that in Kitagawa's depiction of you. You see exactly what he raved about earlier: vulnerability, innocence, and womanhood. How was he able to illustrate you in such a way so different from how most characterize you despite only formally meeting you today?  

You also can’t imagine how striking the painting will be when finished. Will he use pop, bright colors to imply your teenage youth? Or will he use muted mature shades to highlight a sense of coming-of-age? 

A stammered yelp of your last name draws you back into reality. 

“Sorry, sorry! This is just so amazing!” you practically squeal while covering your mouth with your hands, “I can’t believe someone so talented is my age! Can I take a picture? Whoa, this is so cool!” 

“I-I thank you for your kind words,” he avoids your gaze, finding the floor most intriguing, “You can take a picture. Please be sure not to post it anywhere should someone come across it and choose to plagiarize my work.” 

“Got it!” you hum all happy, ego also inflated from being drawn so well and so beautifully.

Instead of answering, he fully turns his body away from you. You move to his side to find a faint dusting of pink across his nose and the top of his cheeks.  

“Hey, are you feeling okay? Your face is kind of red, and—.”

“I’m f-fine,” he clears his throat and shakes his head, all while still concentrating on the weathered floor, “I-I would greatly appreciate it if you can get dressed, though, so I can pay you for your services.”

You look down at yourself, suddenly remembering that you were indeed not wearing clothes, and feel your body heat up from embarrassment, the slightly-cold draft in the room be damned. Your face is as red as a tomato, and your ears are tipped in a similar shade. Squeaking out an apology, you hastily move to the pile of clothes on the chair and fumble through putting them on, too flustered to do so calmly.

Right as you slip on the last of your shoes, you snatch your phone out of your pocket to take a quick snapshot of Kitagawa’s drawing. Up from his stool but still with his back turned to you, he busies himself with something in the furthest corner. 

With the press of a button, his sketch is saved on your phone. You observe it on the digital screen, but, even then, it doesn’t even compare to the actual artwork. Well, digital copies never amount to the original anyways. 

Pinching in and out of the photo to pick out the finer details, Kitagawa approaches you with a thick, money envelope in his hand, “Here is one hundred and fifty thousand yen, as previously agreed upon. I once again thank you for being my model. You truly brought the perspective I needed for this painting. Don’t worry, I intend to bring this painting the beauty it wholly deserves.”  

“Oh, thanks…” your heart skips a beat at his words, moved at his dedication.

With two hands and a slight bow, you accept the money from Kitagawa, who then moves to clean up his supplies. As you stare at it in your hand, unease settles in your stomach. 

Was this really going to be the last time you saw him? You don’t share any classes with him. Hell, you never even knew the guy existed until yesterday! 

You can’t place your finger on why, but you want to get to know him more. Was it because of his formal speaking mannerisms? His talent? His creativity? His pretty boy appearance (you most certainly didn’t forget that)?

Clutching the envelope tightly, you stride up to Kitagawa with a surge of unknown need, “H-hey!” 

Great start.

He turns around from putting his pencils away with utmost confusion, “...Is something the matter?” 

“W-well,” you gulp and spit out your first coherent thought, “I-I wouldn’t mind modeling for you again!” 

“...Excuse me?” he looks even more confused, and you panic on how to explain yourself.

“Wh-what I mean is,” you clear your throat to stall for time, “I-I really want to see how you paint this and make sure it’s good! It is a painting of me after all, a-and I can be there as a real-life reference! I can even model again, i-if that’s what you need!”  

Stupid, of course it’s going to be good. He already drew you perfectly. Actually painting it shouldn’t prove a problem, especially since he’s taught by Madarame, who you found out last night is actually a super famous artist. 

Still, despite your floundering attempts, he appears to strongly consider this proposition, “It would be extremely beneficial if I had my subject with me as I painted… However, I wouldn’t be able to pay you again. Unfortunately, I’m a little low on funds this month.” 

“That’s fine!” 

“Then, it’s a deal,” he takes out his own phone from his pocket, “Let’s exchange contact information, so I can message you when I begin the painting process. It will most likely be in the next day or so, so please keep your schedule open.”  

You mentally do a fist pump, “All righty, do you have LINE or something? I have social media too, if that’s better.” 

“I must confess I am not all that interested in what the online world has to offer,” he pulls out his phone from his back pocket, “I also don’t have any messaging apps outside of the one already on your phone, so your phone number would be best.”

Nodding, you exchange phones and open his contacts. You’re astonished at the names that flood his screen. Arita Takemi, Mihara Kurumi, Natsuhiko Nakanohara—wow, both his names start with “N!” That’s kind of cool—, Yoshihisa Haru… The list goes on and on! How does he know this many people? Or keep up with them? You don’t even think you have this many classmates!  

Choosing not to ask him about it, you put in your number as a new contact. With the addition of your name, you raise his phone in the air to take a selfie of yourself (with a peace sign, obviously). Handing it back, you take your phone to find his contact only with his full name and phone number. 

Well, you didn’t really expect much more than that from him.

“Hmm, it appears the rain has yet to stop,” he checks the time on his phone, “and it’s quite late. My sincere apologies for keeping you here for so long. I would walk you to the station myself, but I need to prepare for Sensei’s return.”

Surely it can’t be that late; you got here around noontime. Checking your phone as well, you quirk a brow at his definition of late.

You jam your phone back into your back pocket, “Um, it’s only a little past 5:30, Kitagawa. I’ll be okay on my own, but I appreciate the thought.” 

He doesn’t look convinced and leaves the room, “At least let me get you an umbrella. I won’t be long.” 

True to his word, he comes back as quickly as he left with an umbrella too big for only one person. 

“Oh, thanks!” you blink at it in your hands, surprised at his offer, before back at him, “Well, I’ll be on my way now, but I’ll return it next time I see you!” 

“Farewell,” he waves you off, and you do the same.

Leaving the room and out the front door, you notice how the rain isn’t coming down as hard as before. In fact, it’s such a light drizzle, using an umbrella would be superfluous. Still, you open it up before walking out from underneath the extremely narrow veranda. 

Kitagawa Yusuke. 

He’s so strange and perhaps a little blunt. 

But he’s also far more polite than the rest of your male peers. 

You put a little more pep in your step and smile with anticipation for the next time you see him, hopefully sooner rather than later. 

ENDING NOTE: i present to you a project months in the making with a huge hiatus in between completion! i thought this would be ready to release to the world a month ago but. i was wrong LOL!

so, for a little context, i have always wanted to play persona 5 ever since it came out six years ago. however, i never got a ps4. THEN! p5royal got announced for switch and other devices, and i pre-ordered it almost immediately. now, it hasn’t been long since it came out, but i just finished up makoto’s palace.

playing this game also reignited my love and worship for the man that is yusuke kitagawa. the amount of screenshots and videos i took during his arc is embarrassing. then, i read a yusuke x reader oneshot at like 2 am (it’s on ao3 titled “Emperor” by deareststars! so good, the friends to lovers in me enjoyed it so much!). i sat up from my bed with such urgency at the lightning strike of inspiration and starting writing this.

this wasn’t written all in one sitting; this took about...3 months, and, with college apps, my progress was quite stifled! i originally wanted to do this sunshine, tomboyish, easygoing reader with a begrudging, “i need you to do my painting (for madarame)” yusuke. so, yes, an enemies to lovers. however, i don’t think it was that enemies. i think it was quite normal LOL. there isn’t a lot of romance in this either. i was rlly struggling on what to tag this because there isn’t romance; this is just like. the start of it all! miniseries? no…probably not LOL. right before i was going to post this, i realized i forgot to include the posing scene. my original thought was for yusuke to actually move your legs to how he desired, but i was like reader wouldn’t like that, and yusuke wouldn’t do it if reader expressed discomfort (and she did so). so. you got that teehee.

tl;dr: this was self-indulgent 101%.

[eywamygoddesswrites]

— ｐｉｌｏｔ １ —

synopsis: dreamscapes are known by the na'vi since the beginning of everything, especially the tsahiks and tsakerams. they come to this plane of existence to learn more about what happens to someone who falls asleep and what happens when another wakes up. do they pause when the na'vi is awake? or do they resume their lives as if it was normal? what happens when that character in your head begins to have their own consciousness?

pairing: avatar by james cameron x fem!platonic!reader

word count: 3.2k

want to join the taglist? send an ask here or leave a comment!

ao’nung knocked on the side of the mauri pod that the sully’s currently reside in while holding a singular utumauti as he shouted ‘delivery’. tuteo moved the leaf-like curtain that serves as the door of their home when ao’nung, out of the blue, chucked the utumauti at the omatikaya. neteyam quickly caught it but was irritated that it was the wrong thing the metkayina had brought. “yo, i asked for teylu!”

“your order has been replaced due to the shortage in requested—” ao’nung mumbled the rest before turning around and walking away. tuteo ran after the tutan his age, shouting his attention. “wait, aren’t you the olo’eyktan’s son? like, the metkayina olo’eyktan’s son?”

ao’nung didn’t know if tuteo was joking or just getting a rise out of him, but he was just confused why he had to ask. “yes?” he replied hesitantly. tuteo smiled and greeted him. “what’s up, my bro?” now ao’nung felt lost. “hey…” he says as he raised his hand to wave.

“ao’nung, right?” the metkayina nodded. “you went to awa’atlu middle school, correct?” how the fuck did this omatikaya know this kind of information?? “were you great at training on how to ride and bond with an ilu?” not to toot his own horn, but, he was one of the best students when learning how to become one with his clan.

“i mean, i was okay—” “c’mon, everyone was still getting the hang of it, but my bro was ready to pass his passage of rites then and there!” ao’nung felt his ego swoll for a moment. “i mean, my sa’nuk did say i was one of the best students.” his shoulders raised slightly, remembering when his teacher mentioned to his parents that he and a few of his classmates were the best in the class.

“and you wanted to become the next olo’eyktan?” tuteo continued on with his questions. “i mean, yeah, but—” “but then you started acting like an asshole and earning the reputation of having no traits of becoming an olo’eyktan” okay, ouch. tuteo didn’t need to hit that deep. fucking asswipe. “yeah, i heard your mom is disappointed.”

“look, if you’re going to just insult me, can’t you just leave me alone?” ao’nung had enough of this stranger pushing him down, and also, how the hell does this na’vi know so much about him? “look ao’nung, i know you’re trying your best now to make amends to the people you tormented for a while and you’re doing great! just remember that actions matter and people will forgive you in no time.”

ao’nung didn’t know if he should feel thankful or just straight-up punch tuteo in the jaw. “how in eywa’s name do you know so much about me??” he finally asked the pain-staking question.

“oh, we all worship you.” tuteo nonchalantly says, ao’nung’s eyes wide and may just pop out of their sockets. “yeah, we heard from your classmate about it and now we just straight up worship you.”

can… can na’vi’s worship other na’vi’s? is this even allowed? “we also sacrifice animals in your name.” “is that even alright to eywa?!!?” how can this… this forest na’vi say things like this?!? life comes from eywa, not ao’nung! he’s a creation of eywa just like the rest. so what… why??

“it’s almost time for us to worship you. you wanna join?” tuteo asked as if it was something so normal. ao’nung doesn’t know if not accepting the offer would cause him to be harmed so he just accepted it. tuteo motions him to come into the mauri pod and inside, tuteo began introducing him to the na’vi’s present.

“everyone, i have a surprise! we have a prestigious guest and it’s the one and only, ao’nung!”

ao’nung does the ‘i see you’ gesture to the na’vi’s before tuteo started to introduce them. “ao’nung, this is rotxo, ao’nung (2), ao’nung (3), ao’nung (4), lo’ak, ao’nung (5), and i’m ao’nung supreme.” tuteo, or ao’nung supreme, points to everyone respectively before pointing at himself being ao’nung supreme, or maybe just supreme for short?

everyone returns the gesture to ao’nung and each saying ‘oel ngati kameie’ to him. supreme leans closer to ao’nung saying that rotxo and lo’ak were new members before turning to the rest of the cult members.

“it’s sad to say that our ao’nung didn’t have any teylu for us to use as a sacrifice. but that’s okay.” supreme took the chopping board with the utumauti on top of it. he began sharpening the cutting knives. he turns to ao’nung, saying that the offering he was going to prepare was for him, making ao’nung smile slightly.

as supreme stabbed the fruit in front of him, the cult simultaneously says ‘tiyawn, ve’ki, tì’ipu. olo’eyktan,’ as their final action was holding up their palms and looking at ao’nung. the metkayina didn’t even know what to say so he just said a meek ‘thank you’.

supreme nods in contentment before telling the members that everyone did good. music began to play in the background as soft songs flew in the air. ao’nung was going to explain why he doesn’t deliver teylu when ao’nung supreme instructs ao’nung to wash his hands for 30 seconds specifically before they eat when ao’nung (2) interrupts the two by shouting that he already washed his hands.

the ao’nungs laughed while supreme tells ao’nung (2) that he wasn’t referring to him. while the rest laughed, ao’nung mumbled to himself that everything is just getting repetitive and supreme reminded him to wash for 30 seconds.

ao’nung goes to wash his hands and after he did, he hears knives being scraped and sharpened. he peeks to where the rest of the cult were and realized, ‘oh fuck…’ he actually fucked up.

while he was in the bathroom, the rest of the ao’nungs, more specifically lo’ak, was complaining that he was taking too long. lo’ak was dangling on the make-shift hammock and says to rotxo, “all the ao’nungs have probably finished setting up.” rotxo told lo’ak to calm down when lo’ak suggested that they should check on ao’nung.

“no.” rotxo says immediately, only for lo’ak to look up in disappointment. “why not?” he asked. “he’s probably pooping. that’s why he’s taking a long time.” rotxo rolls his eyes before continuing to sharpen the knives in his hands.

lo’ak’s face scrunched in annoyance and he thought ‘no one takes 20 minutes to shit—’ when rotxo says, “ao’nung fact number 436, ao’nung is a shy pooper. even if he’s alone at home, he takes him at least 20 minutes to poop peacefully.” lo’ak looks at rotxo, “you actually memorized those??”

rotxo replies with a ‘naaah, i just found some interesting.’ before he continues stating out facts. “ao’nung fact number 2427, he puts out a facade to hide his hurt.” ao’nung scoffs and mumbles to himself, ‘no i don’t’ when realizing that, yeah, maybe he does.

“ao’nung fact number 1426, he’s afraid of windows.” rotxo says as ao’nung was leaving out the window. ‘how the fuck would he know this?!’ he internally panicked before continuing to leave. lo’ak was getting impatient and wanted to get ao’nung out the bathroom while rotxo tells him to give ao’nung a minute to freshen up.

lo’ak insisted that they go in and fetch him while rotxo tells him no until lo’ak just swings the door open to reveal that ao’nung had already left.

ao’nung successfully left the pod, only to have met supreme on the way, who was going back to the mauri pod. it was awkward. like… really reeaallly awkward. it wasn’t until supreme hits ao’nung in the head hard that he blacked out.

ao’nung woke up in a cave with candles lit and surprisingly not tied up. he woke up abruptly to a projector lighting up and a movie playing until supreme turned it off. weird, supreme was dressed up as ao’nung.

“what’s happening?” supreme asked in fear. why was this… doppelganger dressed up as him? what will this double do to him? why was there a lot of him to begin with? “i’ll go straight to the point. i’m here to replace you.” ao’nung looked at supreme weirdly. “ao’nung supreme?” “yeah.” “oh my eywa.”

ao’nung rubbed his head in disappointment. “really, dude?” he looked at supreme with his lips thinned. “i know, i know, i’m sorry! but hey, i made you this as my apology.” supreme pulls out an armband he had made beforehand and gave it to ao’nung. “this is nice, thanks, but why are you doing this??” ao’nung took the armband and kept it instead of putting it on for now.

“i’m… actually trying to learn how to love myself. i mean, i already love you, so maybe if i become you, i can learn to love myself too.” supreme explains before adding, “i mean, there’s no one else i’d rather be than you.”

“you’re cool, for the most part, but you made the most of everything in your life. you may not be perfect, but you always do your best and i admire that. and no amount of perfection can top that.” supreme explains, causing ao’nung to think and realize, yeah, maybe it’s not a bad thing for someone to maybe at least give him a chance to love himself, even if it means taking his identity. “what happens now?” ao’nung asked.

“well,” supreme stands up and takes his accessories and tosses them to ao’nung. “dinner tonight is still in your honor.” ao’nung tilts his head in confusion. “and this is the part where things get complicated.”

‘supreme’ (ao’nung) and ‘ao’nung’ (supreme) went back to the pod where all the other ao’nungs waited for the pair. they both respectively went to their seats while everyone else settle in. ‘ao’nung’ lowkey motioned ‘supreme’ to give out a speech before dinner starts.

“rotxo, lo’ak, ao’nungs, and ‘ao’nung’, we worship you, albeit a little weird because you’re just a regular na’vi like us,” his wavering voice almost gave him away as the rest of the ao’nungs looked at him weirdly. “but everything about you is cool. the way you hunt, the way you ride the ilus, how you sign underwater, and how you learn to become the next olo’eyktan.”

“ao’nung fact number 194, despite ao’nung having to be the next olo’eyktan by default, he really wanted to be an olo’eyktan because his father was the olo’eyktan of the metkayina clan.” ao’nung (3), or AN for short, says while ‘supreme’ agrees with him. “yeah, and how you wanted to protect, not only your clan but also because you wanted to protect your mom and wanted her to be happy.” at this point, everyone became a little sentimental.

happy is not easy. happy may stay for a while but most of the time, it’s hard, impossible even because happiness was not normal. but still, ‘ao’nung’ was able to achieve it and he didn’t need any worshippers to show him that he helped someone.

“and that’s why, i’m so proud of you, ‘ao’nung’.” ‘supreme’ says as they both smiled at each other. just when ‘ao’nung’ was going to say something, rotxo stood up and mentioned that he has the knives ready.

lo’ak raised a knife at ‘supreme’ while saying that they knew that he was there to kidnap ‘ao’nung’ as rotxo says that they were all there to protect ‘ao’nung’.

‘ao’nung’ began to panic as he began to remove the accessories he had. “you have 3 seconds to leave this cult and never return.” lo’ak says, not dropping the knife any time soon. ao’nung (4) rolled his eyes and mumbled under his breath, ‘a little dramatic of these two.’ a countdown started and supreme told ao’nung to run but it was too late.

rotxo and lo’ak realized the two had swapped so they went for plan b: have them faint and go to another dreamscape. lo’ak holds up a cloth and made ao’nung faint and the next thing everyone knows, they were in someone else’s dreamscape

it was calming. they were on a cliff that ao’nung was familiar with. he would go to this place to gather his thoughts and calm himself down especially when he feels like everything was too much. everything was going well, good memories passed by his eyes until everything started to distort. ao’nung looks down to see a yovo fruit in his hand until looks up and another scene was placed before him.

supreme stood beside him as their wrists were tied behind their backs. they seemed to be standing in the forest at the edge of a cliff but instead of water that was beneath, it was the hard ground instead. “it appears we’re at a disagreement.” lo’ak says as the rest of the ao’nungs stood by. “one of you is jasper,” he points the knife at what appears to be ‘ao’nung’, “the other is that duplicitous, intemperate, covetous, rebarbative, callous leader, ao’nung supreme.” then points the knife to who appears to be ‘supreme’.

“one of you will be spared, the other will not.” rotxo added, an accent to what appears to be back in the olden days. ao’nung turns around, does rotxo really speak like that? “i dunno, man. lo’ak says it’s gonna be cool if we spoke like that.” that earned rotxo to get jabbed on the side with lo’ak’s elbow.

supreme immediately confesses that he’s ao’nung supreme while the jasper that stood beside him was the real jasper. rotxo was immediately convinced by it but lo’ak held him back. “prove it.” he simply said.

supreme simply nodded his head at each of the ao’nungs as he started to mention their names. “you’re rotxo te mayue ovuoka'itan, you’re lo’ak te suli tsyeyk’itan, his name is ro’at te etopx hosloek'itan, and his name is–” he was cut off by lo’ak. “okay, okay, jeez. we get it, you’re ao’nung prime. rotxo,” he turns to the metkayina, “throw him off the cliff.” just as rotxo was closing in at supreme, ao’nung shouts at them to stop.

“no? ao’nung, do you even know this na’vi? do you know why he even made you into a cult?” lo’ak starts as he gets closer to ao’nung. “do you even know anything about him? ao’nung, bro, we’re just protecting you.”

this may or may not be the most confused ao’nung has ever been since gaining consciousness in this dreamscape. “what are you even talking about?!” he shouts at the two. “rotxo and i are your step-brothers, ao’nung!” lo’ak shouts at the metkayina in front of him. how…? how can this happen? step-brothers? when did he even get stepbrothers?

“your father, he left remember? he left to learn sky people technology and made the most successful and only tech company here in pandora.” rotxo explains to the confused na’vi in front of him. “you… you never knew? your dad is one of the wealthiest people here in pandora’s history.” lo’ak adds. “we even found out about the plan to kidnap and replace you to inherit your dad’s estate.” lo’ak motions at supreme, who could only stare at the ground in shame.

apparently, supreme, or whoever this may even be at this point, created the ao’nung cult just to reel ao’nung in, and when it was done, he ordered from the fruit store he knew that ao’nung had been working for to earn a bit of money so that he can act out his elaborate plan on replacing ao’nung. none of what ao’nung knew of was real. everything, supreme never cared and why would he? ao’nung was just normal. nothing out of the ordinary nor special or whatever. just. normal.

supreme looked at ao’nung, his eyes telling him that what these ‘stepbrothers’ of his weren’t real as his voice softly called out to him. “it’s to come home, ao’nu–” before lo’ak could even finish, he was hit in the head with a heavy, thick woven basket by an ao’nung, shocking the rest of the ao’nungs present.

“it was real to me.” ao’nung (5) says in a deeper voice than the rest. that’s when ao’nung had a plan. he immediately tells ao’nung (5) to protect supreme. everyone knew a fight was coming. they all shouted ‘tiyawn, ve’ki, tì’ipu. olo’eyktan,’ as if it was a war cry and everything went in slow motion. they all ran at each other to attack as supreme began to run away from the commotion.

ao’nung saw this and began to run after supreme, leaving the rest of the ao’nungs to fight. supreme was no where in sight which gave ao’nung the time to get back to where the mauri pod was and got his makeshift bag. he’s going to leave this hellhole and never return.

just as he opened the front of the mauri in revealed supreme, regret plastered on his face as he stood there motionless as if he doesn’t know what to do or say. he greets ao’nung and ao’nung returns the gesture.

it was silence for a moment before ao’nung finally spoke. “you created a cult… just to replace me… why? why go through all this effort?” anger was evident in his voice. supreme bobbed his mouth like a fish until he finds his voice. “i just… i just wanted to be someone else.” “yeah i get that.” ao’nung cuts him off.

“but! but, that’s because i never knew my parents.” supreme continued. “i never had a home and i’ve made a lot of mistakes.” ao’nung grew uncomfortable. did supreme need to go through all this trouble because of family issues? eywa… people needs help.

“i found out about you and your dad and… and it made me want what you had.” supreme finally finished. ao’nung asked, “you had the chance but you didn’t take it. why?” supreme’s hands grew restless as they kept twitching. “that’s because i met you! i found out that you’re someone worth believing in.” 

ao’nung stared at supreme for a moment. maybe… maybe this time, he will give the benefit of the doubt. one last chance. “what’s your real name?” ao’nung asked.

supreme took a big breath in before telling his real name. “neteyam te suli tsyeyk’itan. no relations to lo’ak te suli tsyeyk’itan.” he gives a small smile at ao’nung, who returned it. “you’ve made my day terrible, neteyam.” they both laughed softly at themselves as ao’nung reintroduced himself to neteyam.

“can i have my armband back?” ao’nung asked, who then neteyam realized that they still had some of their accessories still on the other. neteyam apologized and they began exchanging the accessories back.

while they fixed their accessories back, ao’nung asked if neteyam wanted to meet his mom. “really?” ao’nung nodded. “yeah.” he assures the na’vi in front of him.

they both left the mauri pod to go to where ao’nung’s mom resided in. “we have so many stories to tell mom.” ao’nung says in excitement. neteyam agreed. “maybe we could use that projector you had? you know, what the sky people use to show those images?” ao’nung asked. “yeah! i have some movies that i really like. you might like ‘em too.” neteyam says as they walked further.

from another dreamscape, ro’at looked in the distance as he asks no one in particular, “you ready?” before taking a bite of the yovo fruit he has in his hand.

a/n: hey guys! sorry, this took so long to complete. i had to finish the fic specials and i got busy with class. i hope you all enjoy it!

taglist: @nyotamalfoy @hanhanartz @iwaslikeblah @tejas-kris @sophiexoxo-lol @neteyamforlife

want to join the taglist? send an ask here or leave a comment!

— 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 — , — 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 — , — 𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓽 —

[morning-star-joy]

I still can’t bring myself to finish ASHWAH… I’m the same anon from before 🫣 I’ve been stuck on chapter 18 because I keep wanting to re-read the story from start to finish again and I’m just not ready for it to be over. I’ve never had such a strong connection to a story like this before!!!? Reading it genuinely makes my heart ache in the best way and really makes me yearn for a love like that. I have a question even though you may have already answered it.. when do we think reader/joel knew for sure that they were in love? was it a singular moment or gradual for them both?? 🥹

awww hello again my love!! this is honestly the sweetest thing to hear because I do this all the time with things that I enjoy, especially video games. I get to the end and I just put it down and never finish it because I don't want it to end, so the fact that you feel that way about ASHWAH means so much to me 🥹💜

I have received this question about Joel but not Reader! It was definitely mostly gradual for both of them, but more so actually Joel than Reader. Joel does realize it and also accepts it first, and I talk more about his process in his emotions here and here

I'm actually very proud of the first moment where Reader realizes what she feels for him. I don't think she fully acknowledges it as love yet, but she knows it's something more than she's ever felt before at the start of Chapter 18. (in depth analysis below fkjlds)

You froze for the second time when Joel shifted, the muscles in his back flexing slightly as he readjusted in his sleep before falling still again. A quiet sigh left his lips, and when you watched his body relax again, that ache reappeared in your chest, stronger than it had ever been before and oh, shit. That ache from the moment he had taken you in from the rain, and so many times after that; in the bar before his birthday party, on the walk back to your home, when he gave you a simple look to check in on you, holding his hand as you he listened to you talk about your sister and you listened to him talk about his daughter and his favorite color was blue, blue, the color of his sheets, the sheets you were laying in after he had held you in his arms last night and looked at you the way he did and oh fucking shit. Your gaze darted from him back to the window, the light of early morning—you fucking hoped it was early—filtering in, casting your naked body in a warm glow and, “Shit.”

This is her moment of realization for how she feels. I was so giddy to write this when I realized it was happening, it's really just a spin on the classic "oh. oh" moment but with ASHWAH Reader flavor haha!

The moment when she realizes even more how deeply she feels for him, how important he is for her and how she can't be apart from him anymore is in Chapter 19, after Thanksgiving when she runs out to find him in the rain.

He made you happy. Chest trembling with a breath that caught in your throat, you shook your head sharply as you began to walk briskly down the street. You passed under streetlights until your feet began to pick up in a light jog. You knew, you had already known, for so fucking long you had felt that ache in your chest and you knew, you knew, and where the fuck was he—

She's still coming to terms with it being love, but deep down she just knows in her bones that what it is now, basically.

And then there's Chapter 20, where she really knows. Still hesitant to call it love, but she knows that's what it is. At the same time, they don't even need to say it, because they just...know. They've kind of always known.

[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Chapter 83: Misdeeds Unaddressed

Chapters: 83/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: pg13

Relationships: Loki x Reader

Characters: Loki (Marvel),Thor

Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Behold Another Disaster

Summary: There were unknown consequences

“You were supposed to tell me the moment she woke!” Saga complained.

“Some things came up.” Loki said. “Let the woman eat something before you pick her brain.” “Your highness, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity! She holds lost knowledge!”

“She also holds a lot of stress in her shoulders. She needs rest.” “She's been resting for almost two days!”

“Saga's right.” you interjected. “I just woke up, and I don't want to forget anything.”

“At least get some food. You haven't eaten in a while.” Loki insisted.

“Tell you what; I'll meet you in the library, and you can bring food.” “I'm not letting you walk around unescorted after an attempted poisoning!” Loki exclaimed. “Excuse me.” Saga interrupted. “I am fully capable of stabbing things for my Seidkona's sake, thank you very much.”

“Look, I'm just going to the library.” you reassured him. “I've got my knife too, and I won't eat anything you haven't already tested, okay?”

Grumbling, but mollified, Loki let you part ways to the library, where Saga led you into the secluded artifact room. Ymir's Dreamscape rested on the sturdy, hardwood table, shrunken and contained in its alien technology.

“Thoughts?” Saga asked, noticing where your attention was directed.

“They didn't mean to hurt anyone.” you mumbled. “They didn't know. They didn't...understand.”

“Do you understand? What you did, I mean? Were you aware?” “What I...did? What did I do? I know I called this thing to me somehow, but...” you shook your head. “I was somewhere else. Did you see what I saw? The giant women? The loom? Ymir and the developing planet?”

“No giant women, no.” Saga said.

Loki entered the room, a delicious-smelling array of foods spread on a large platter. He set it down on the table next to Ymir's Dreamscape, ignoring Saga's pointed glare, and prepared a plate for you.

“What's this about giant women?” he asked.

“I think I saw the Norns.” you said. “Listen.”

You explained between bites of food, how you had seen the huge women, and a great loom, weighted with glowing gems, and how you thought that what you had seen wasn't actually what was there, but that your brain had been interpreting what it was seeing through a lens you could understand. How you had looked into the cloth, and the patterns of color and weave had formed shapes you could interpret about an entity that had been expelled into the universe by the force of the singularity. The first Celestial, Ymir, whom you had been dreaming about for some time now.

That got Loki's attention. He had not been dreaming about Ymir at all, and seemed upset either by that, or by the fact that you hadn't really told him about it.

“I just didn't think it meant anything, since it wasn't shared.” you protested.

“Dreams are very important,where magic is concerned!” he scolded. “This was recurring! And involved the blue light.” “So,” Saga interrupted, setting her phone down on the table. “This is what we saw.”

The footage on the screen showed you dancing, spinning around the fire. Dropping your drum and stick as something flew into your hands. Yes, it was Ymir's Dreamscape, still in it's containment.

From offscreen, you could hear Loki cry out; the camera turned to him for a moment, the flare of glowing runes blurry on his face. Gasps and shouting from the crowd drew Saga's attention back to you.

By this time, you were floating in the air, matching runes obscuring your left side. You flung Ymir's Dreamscape up into the air, up and up, so high that it was a mere speck. Then you released its containment.

The art work filled the sky, painting the heavens, greeted by screams of terror that morphed into cries of wonder as the alien artwork began to move. It showed Ymir's story in silent pantomime, figures and events dancing across the rock.

You shot Loki an inquiring glance. “You...accessed me. My magic” he explained. “Ymir's power brought their work to life, and even those that didn't have physical form, still seem to have movement. With my magic, you held the asteroid up, and provided illusions to amplify the art and continue the story, presumably in line with whatever you were experiencing.” “I didn't know I could do that.” you said.

“Neither did I. But we are connected through magic, so I should expect it to be possible.”

The art story continued on, past the dismemberment of Ymir, the diaspora of the ancient people, and all the varied forms they took. The exposure of Asgardian origins drew shouts and denials from the crowd, demands of silence from Thor. The revelation of Loki's hybrid status got a quiet 'Oh', from Saga, still behind the camera.

Ymir's Dreamscape began to shrink, collapsing back down into it's containment and landing heavily on the ground, as you remained in the air for a few moments more, before also dropping into a heap. People closed in on you, as well as Saga, the footage going shaky and unintelligible before ending.

Saga retrieved her phone.

“What we need to know now,” she said “is if there is any more information you can give us, other than what was recorded here. You said They didn't mean to hurt anyone. What did you mean?”

“I was sorta inside their head, a little bit. I understood where they were coming from. They had no idea of the destruction they were causing. They didn't even have a concept of it.” You began explaining the insight you had gained into Ymir's understanding of the universe around them, how they felt about their artworks, and the planet they shared their star with. How, even as they were killed, they still did not understand death.

Saga dutifully wrote down everything you said, and you relayed every detail you could remember, right up to the building of Asgard, and the disjointed 'present' events; Loki's birth, the lost year, the uneven restoration of the universe.

“Is there anything else?”

The shards of possible futures shown to you by the third woman shot through your mind. You shook your head.

“That's all.” you said. “After that, I slept.”

Loki took you from the library while Saga compiled her notes, and led you back to his quarters.

“Is Thor really going to hold the Third Feast again?” You asked. “It doesn't seem safe.” “Yes,” Loki said, beginning to remove your clothing. There was nothing sensual about it; your clothes were wrinkled, and smelled a little funky from being worn for a couple of days straight. “but only after the rest of the humans leave. Instead, we'll be putting together a fresh lunch for everyone, and everything will be served by monitored staff. No potluck elements. After that, it will be time for our visitors to leave. We'll have the feast after that, and the closing ceremonies.”

He began to massage your shoulders, gently working out the tension that had built up over the past few days. “So,” he said as you relaxed into his hands. “Why did you lie to Saga? About remembering nothing else?”

You stiffened, but he just worked the stiffness back out.

“Well...It was personal.”

“Personal?” he inquired. “I don't really understand. It was just fragments. Nothing solid.” It had really seemed like something that was supposed to be only for you, even though you weren't sure what any of the little slivers of information could be.

“I saw Asgard built up the mountainsides on either side of the river. Everything looked prosperous.”

You didn't know what to make of your vision of Loki, lines on his handsome face, silver in his onyx curls. You wouldn't live long enough to see that. Maybe the Norns just felt like giving you some assurance that he would be all right.

“I also saw that planet Titan was doing good. In some future, Minos does a good job.” You didn't know about the other Titan you'd seen. The sky he stared into was not the sky of Titan. Maybe he was stranded on another planet, far from his home? Why show you that though? Were you supposed to get him home?

“There were a few things I really didn't understand. They went by so fast, and I didn't really get what I was seeing. They weren't woven into the fabric yet, so maybe none of them will happen.”

“The fabric, hm? Maybe you really did see the Norns.” Loki began stripping himself down, setting aside his snow soaked clothes.

“Have you ever seen them?” you asked. “You're a sorcerer. Did they show you things too?” Loki smiled at you, indulgence in his grin. “No Norns for me, no. That seems to be a Seidkona only thing.”

“Wait, am I different than you? Are Seidkonas only women? Is that why you aren't one?”

Loki grinned wider. “I am not a Seidkona, but it isn't because of my gender. Yes, Seidkona are only women, but I can be a woman whenever I feel like it. It's because father...because Odin carefully kept me from committing to any responsibilities that would keep me from going back to Jotunheim and assuming the throne there. For Asgard, of course.” “Oof. Yeah, okay, I can see that.” There was something so cold about the idea of curtailing a childs potential like that, just because you desperately needed them to grow up to do something else. “Lots of Earth kids forced into professions they don't really want, because their parents have plans that didn't take into account that their kids are also people.” “No shortage of such things in Asgard either.” Loki said, leading you to bed and laying you down. He drew the blankets up around the two of you, cuddling comfortably against your back.

“So many revelations about myself in such a short time.” he murmured against the back of your head. “How does a man keep it all straight? A frost giant, yes, but of Midgard, not Jotunheim. Is this why I am so small, but still healthy? I am sized for this planet.” “Perfectly proportioned, you might say.” You murmured back. His arms tightened around you slightly, and he nuzzled into your hair.

“Sweet thing. You spread your words on my spirit like a fragrant balm.” “Ooh, fancy.” you teased. Even though you'd been unconscious for almost two days, this days events had left you exhausted. It was easy to let yourself drift away, back into blissful sleep.

                                                                         ******

Green and Blue were waiting for you on the other side, their brilliant colors combining in your vision, Green, as always, was the weaker.

Loki, clinging to your hand, regarded Green with some trepidation, while Green 'regarded' him with a mix of amusement and dismissive annoyance.

“Do you know each other?” you asked, as he squinted in suspicion.

“I'm not...” he mumbled, but your attention was drawn away by the colored lights. They wanted to know when you wanted to go. Where you wanted to see. You thought about Titan, the tiny glimpse you had gotten of a flourishing planet under it's orange sky. Yet, that was not the planet that grew and loomed up before you. It was the opposite, in fact, a cold, blue ball of ice, bisected by a deep, deep canyon.

“Jotunheim?” you wondered aloud. “That wasn't what I was thinking of.” “I was.” Loki admitted. “I went to rest, wondering what I would do, if I actually had to go back there to rule, ever. What kind of future I would build.”

You floated down through the clouds, which were much thicker than the last time you remembered being here. A deep fog clung to the ground all around you, drawing a veil over your vision. It wasn't dust, but it made you a bit anxious in the same way.

The air was much more humid than you remembered; it clung to your skin, clammy and chilly. Strange, reverberating groans, and glassy pings echoed weirdly around you.

“Something feels wrong here.” Loki murmured. A quickly whispered spell summoned a swirl of wind, dissipating the fog in a wide bubble.

You gasped, and stumbled back into his stabilizing grasp. The two of you were standing on an ice floe, far too close to the still and silent edge of a black sea. Twisting to look behind, you beheld the towering cliffs of the canyon, crumbling and eroded: the source of the floe.

“What is going on here?” Loki whispered, flabbergasted. “There's no sea on the surface. It's all under nearly a mile of ice!” “There was water at the bottom of the canyon. It was like a kind of river.” “But not like this. It shouldn't have been able to expand. It should have frozen back over. Jotunheim has no axial tilt. Its climate is very stable. Unless...”

“What? What do you think is happening?”

Horror was crawling over his features.

“The Bifrost. It's power was far greater than I expected. Beyond my wildest hopes. It didn't just cleave the ice, did it? It vaporized it, and part of the ocean underneath. How much water vapor did that put into the air? Your people call it a 'greenhouse gas'. That would capture their meager sunlight, over time. But this much? Enough for so much liquid water? An exposed sea might keep the cycle going as it evaporated, but...so large...is there something more?”

“Wait, hold on, what's the Bifrost got to do with it?” you asked. “You said the planet was hit by a natural disaster.”

“I said it was a destructive force. It was the Bifrost. By all the stars, I did not understand, not really. It was all so distant, so buried under the madness...”

His hand had wound its way into his hair, clutching at curls that sprouted between his fingers. You grasped his forearm, acid adrenaline constricting your throat. His distress mixed with your lingering fog-anxiety, stretching it out into an umbrella of confused discomfort.

A weird rumbling rippled the still waters, felt through the ice more than heard.

“Wh-what was that?” you whispered. Loki shook his head, silent.

A pod of large, fishlike creatures splashed to the surface around you, disappearing beneath the floe, and a bubbling became evident in the water, far out on the edge of visibility. The rumbling sounded again.

“Loki?” you whispered.

“I-I-I don't know.” he stammered.

Your eyes were fixed on the burbling out in the water, trying to understand what it could be. A large animal, like a whale? Could you run from it? The large chunk of ice you were on butted up against several others, but their stability was uncertain.

The rumbling sounded once more, and this time it did not stop, but grew in intensity, wobbling your chunk of ice. Loki grabbed you, holding you as steady as he could.

The far away bubbling intensified, growing into a fountain. Within seconds, a deafening blast of water erupted into the air, blossoming into a cloud of steam and ash. It wasn't until you saw the flecks of glowing orange within that you realized what was happening, but by that time, an enormous wave had upended your ice floe, sweeping you and Loki into the dark water.

You flopped off the edge of the bed, soaked with frigid water. In the other side of the bed, you heard Loki sputtering and flailing.

“A volcano!” you exclaimed. “That was a volcano! Ahg, my ears!”

The head-splitting sound still rung in your skull, though it was already fading. The same magic that protected you from freezing, must also have saved you from that damage also.

“I've killed them all.” Loki whimpered from the other side of the bed. “Norns, I really did it. I've killed them all.”

You heard the tears in his voice, and scrambled around the side of the bed. He met you in the middle, scuttling on hands and knees, hair dripping, and threw himself into your arms. Your soaked nightclothes squelched.

“This is my fault!” he wailed. “I was mad, completely mad! I thought I'd failed, but it was just a matter of time!”

“Shh, shh, shh, slow down.” You soothed. “I don't know what you're talking about. What happened?”

Loki shuddered, seeking control.

“It...it goes back further than attacking your world. My crimes against the realms. It started with a...a thoughtless prank. I led frost giants into Asgard's treasure vault. I knew they would not get far, but...they killed two of the vault's guards before facing the same fate themselves. One of these was Gloa's brother.”

“God, Loki.” “It didn't go according to plan, but everyone reacted the way they were supposed to. It interrupted and postponed Thor's coronation, exactly as it was supposed to. He couldn't be king yet, you understand.”

He grasped your hands in his. “You understand? He was not the man you know now. He was brutal. Childish. Glory hungry and bloodthirsty. He would have brought Asgard low. Our friends were just as bad. Sycophantic and unquestioning. They were all baying for vengeance, and so I...I convinced them to go to Jotunheim for revenge. We were never supposed to be there long enough for a fight! Just long enough for Thor to realize he should not seek the war he wanted. Long enough to show father he wasn't ready to be king! I told a guard to fetch Odin the instant we left, but...but he waited. We were there for far too long. Long enough that I couldn't prevent a fight. Long enough that...that the terrible secret of my origin was revealed. Long enough that war was once again declared.

When we were finally fetched back, Odin and Thor quarreled so fiercely, that Odin did finally realize that Thor was not ready to rule. But instead of some kind of remedial education, he cursed Mjolnir, stripped Thor of his power, and banished him here!”

“Wait, that's what happened? Most people think he was sent here to retrieve a malfunctioning weapon!” “Yes, well, we had to tell them something, didn't we? I confronted Odin, later, over what I had discovered about myself. He told me everything about what happened, how he found and brought me home, the purpose I was meant to fulfill. Then he fell into one of his special sleeps.”

“What, like, immediately? That's convenient.”

“I should have seen it coming. He had used so much power on Thor, and he was elderly. For an Asgardian, at least. And he was always using some measure of power to keep Hela within her confinement. Of course he fell into Odinsleep. It was the worst possible time, but I can't be surprised. Then they made me king. That was not the plan. None of it was the plan. I wasn't trying to be king, I just...I just thought I was looking out for the kingdom's wellbeing.

But I was the only one left. Odin seemed to be dying, and Mother would not leave his side. Thor was banished. I wasn't aiming for kingship, but I wanted to at least be legitimately considered for it. However, this was the only way I would ever take the throne.

It didn't matter. None of it mattered. I was king, legitimately, lawfully, rightfully king...and nobody listened to a damn word I said. I could have declared war. I could have dissolved the kingdom. I could have doubled the wages of every laborer, and all my decrees would have fallen on deaf ears. Even my...closest friends betrayed me. They wanted me to bring Thor right back from Earth, but how could I do that? He was still powerless. Mjolnir was still cursed. And I'm not certain that even I could break one of Odin's curses. He was also still a thoughtless lout, and my friends were actually just his friends. They didn't even wait a day before turning traitor to the Crown. Heimdall at least waited.”

“Oh no, Heimdall too?” You asked. Was that the source of the tension that still lingered between them?

“I no longer hold it against him. Heimdall has betrayed every ruler that Asgard has had during his lifetime, sometimes more than once. It's practically his job. And it's not as if I am not guilty of the same, intentions be damned. But that time, I had something to prove. I don't know if I can explain what was going through my head at the time. Hurt and despair, rage at the betrayal, loss of my sense of self, my sense of reality. Loss of my friends, my family, my support structures, my legitimacy, my very place in the world.

I went mad, completely mad. I had so much more to prove. I felt I had to justify my existence. To prove I wasn't one of the monsters. To truly show where my loyalties lay. So I lied, and I tricked, and I killed. I lured Laufey, king of Jotunheim and my true sire, into Asgard, so that I could murder him in a staged attack on Odin, to prove my loyalty. To reject my actual parentage. I sent the Destroyer to Earth to eradicate Thor and his friends, to tie up loose ends, and I didn't care at all about collateral damage. I encased Heimdall in ice, so that I could use the Bifrost freely, and I turned it's full power on the realm of Jotunheim. I intended to destroy it completely, to do what neither Odin, nor Thor had been able to do. All of this, I thought, would protect Asgard and finally prove me worthy.

I am why that canyon exists, why all those graves are there. I am why that volcano erupts. I became exactly the kind of petty, bloodthirsty ruler I had wanted to prevent in the first place. When Thor returned...He was right to depose me. He was right to cast me out. I thought, if he found out what I was, he would kill me. He had resolved to kill all Frost Giants after all.

But he was different. He had realized something on Earth, something I had not yet learned. Again, he had it all, and now he had wisdom too. And I had...nothing.

No sooner had Odin awoken, but he condemned my actions. Me. I felt there was no place for me in Asgard anymore, and certainly no bridges remained to Jotunheim. I had nowhere to go, so I just...I just fell. Again, I thought it was only best for Asgard.”

“But things are different now.” You said. He nodded, caressing the back of your hands with his thumbs.

“Things are different. But the damage I have caused is lasting. The volcano is erupting. Jotunheims fate was sealed seven years ago, when I went mad. Now, we have no way to fix it.”

“I...I don't think that was the present.” you said. “We were there before, remember? There was no melting or fog, or anything like that. The canyon was still fresh enough for them to carve into. It wasn't crumbling at all.”

“You think that was the future? Well...You are a Seidkona now. Even the Norns seem to have acknowledged it. Perhaps you will also share the prophetic dreams of the Aesir?”

“Maybe? But a volcano takes long time to grow, so if you made one start seven years ago, it would take a while to reach the surface like that. If we can figure out a way to communicate with Jotunheim sometime over the next few years, we can warn them what's happening. And then they should have enough time to adapt to it. I guess they'll probably become sea giants in the future.”

“Y-yes...” Loki rolled it over in his head. “Yes. According to your revelation, they were the first of us to split off, but they are still of the ancestral race. They will adapt to their new surroundings. Just as...just as I did. Just as, I suppose, the next generations of Asgardians will adapt to Earth. I wonder what forms they will take?”

“Whatever it is, it'll probably be beautiful. Like you, my sweet prince.” You smooched his forehead, and he sighed in weary relief.

We are going to need to sleep somewhere else.” he said, stripping out of his soaked nightclothes. You shivered. The ocean of Jotunheim had washed right through you both. He tossed you a new nightgown and a towel to dry with.

Snuggling into a smaller bed together in one of the guest rooms, you found yourself hesitant to go back to sleep. You'd come so far, learned so much. But the mechanics of your dreams remained a mystery. What exactly were Blue and Green? They felt like entities, but very alien ones. Why did they like you? Why and how did they take you places and protect you from the dangers there? How could you exist in two places at once? How could you travel to Jotunheim and Titan, yet still be in your bed?

You felt as though Loki had suspicions, but he hadn't shared them. Perhaps he was waiting until he was sure of what was going on, but you wished you had half the clue that he did.

[naamahdarling]

Here it is! And here she is! And I'm gonna tell you a great story about Fancy and her love for it! So read on!

It's not actual Lisa Frank merch, alas, but the blue and purple tiger stripes definitely evoke '80s Lisa Frank. It's the softest blanket we have.

In case you don't know about Fancy and soft blankets, let me explain.

Story time!

The first night my boyfriend brought her home as a horrifically skinny and detestably stinky kitten, she came out of the carrier, stretched her back legs magnificently, and I said "We'll call you Fancy!", and that was the first thing in her new little life to become hers.

But cats don't care much about that sort of thing, they have their own ineffable, effable, effanineffable, deep and inscrutable, singular names, names that no human research can discover, so instead of appreciating the moment, she went exploring and stepped on the soft blue fleece blanket I had put down next to the bathtub

She paused, and a look of sudden and utter peace and happiness came over her face, and she RUBBED her paws in that blanket! Then she started to MASH and she started to PURR, and I burst into tears.

I cried because I suddenly understood that as an outside stray it was probably the softest thing she had felt since her mother's belly. When my boyfriend found her, she was all alone. How long ago had that been? A month? That was a third of her life! How unfair! But now WE were there to fix it!

So we said "Fancy, this is yours now. This is your soft blanket." And then she knew that she had something that was just for her, just hers. Here was something she could feel and understand. She LOVED it. She spent a lot of time recovering on it as her growing body caught up with her.

Baby Fancy, you see, was very skinny, with a body score of 2. Almost the weight of a kitten half her age. Since she was so bony and also poorly insulated, we thought it might be more comfortable for her if we wrapped her in a blanket while we cuddled. We wanted another for laundering purposes, so we went to the pet store and got a kitten and puppy receiving blanket and we used it to hold her. It was even softer than the blue blanket!

Then some of you dear readers were kind enough to send a couple of other similar blankets, softer still! She loved those as well, and always had a clean blanket immediately to hand.

Over the next year and a half she had a couple of big surgeries to fix some things that were wrong with her, and then get spayed, and we used all those blankets again to hold her as she watched bird TV with us and rested her tiny, tough as nails little body, napping through the hard first days.

Soft blankets mean love to her. They mean safety. They mean that she has a home and things that she can call her own and humans that will always watch out for her. (She doesn't know that they also mean that she has many loving fans, but she would be so happy if she did.)

Needless to say, we kept her supplied with many soft beds and blankets, and she loved them all. Still, there were dimensions of softness yet undiscovered.

Enter the Lisa Franket.

I saw it at Walmart and touched it and realized it was the softest blanket I had ever felt in 40+ years. I had to have it immediately for my own sleeping purposes. Ludicrously cheap, I insisted that my boyfriend buy it for me as an early Valentine's Day gift, and he did, bless him, and we brought it home, forgetting we had a blanket-loving gremlin waiting there.

About 20 minutes after putting it on the bed Fancy discovered it, and she got that look on her face again, and she rubbed her paws on it. Just rubbed them around in funny little circles. She plucked at it and dug at it. What is this?! How soft!!! And then she began to purr and she began to mash, and I almost started to cry again. This, bought for me but accidentally bought for her, the softest thing.

So yes, it's hers now. No matter how hot it is, no matter if I'm doing laundry on the bed, no matter if I have my coloring stuff spread out, it always sits on the corner of the bed where she can come and visit it anytime. And she does! Yes, she sleeps on it or plops down to wash, but sometimes she comes in and just rubs her little feet on it for 30 seconds or so, and walks out. Doesn't even lay on it, just comes to visit it the way you would visit a house plant you really liked, or a piece of nice sculpture that you inherited from your grandmother.

How remarkable that is to me. She thinks of it when she isn't in the room, and in her simple way she says to herself, I want to go visit the softest thing that I know. And she does. Then she leaves and she is happy. Fancy, the little queen of Every Soft Thing.

I would move heaven and Earth for this baby to let her know that she is loved and cherished beyond measure.

Fortunately, all I have to move is a blanket.

[1engele]

daybreak | sal fisher x fem!reader - 9. hearts

Previous | Next

[warnings: mention of meth, swimming without pants on??, large body of water, momentary angst]

"why was it so easy for you to make it so hard for me?" —

You weren't drunk, but you were definitely not sober enough to comprehend how horrible the idea of being even relatively close to a large body of water whilst intoxicated was.

Ashley was not as much a lightweight as you'd proved to be, so she was virtually sober. the time you'd known her (just over a week) you'd come to know her as the most carefree of the group. She did things when she felt like it, and she did what she enjoyed.

Larry could be called carefree, as well—but he gave off more "I truly do not give one ounce of a fuck, and I will go along with any activity you want to do if I can smoke" vibes.

You hadn't figured Sal out yet. You tried not to think about it, but there were so many things you wondered about him. You'd seen his face. That had been your fault, and you were beginning to feel immense guilt for what you'd done.

You weren't going to inwardly speculate about what had happened to him—but you'd seen the look in his foggy blue gaze when he'd laid eyes on that dog at the party.

The car came to an abrupt halt, knocking you from your thoughts and lurching your body forward. Your eyes widened, and you look around frantically to figure out where you were or if you'd just had an accident—but turns out, you'd made it to Wendigo Lake.

"Well, you said you wanted to go to the lake," Ashley grinned, locking eyes with you.

You blink repeatedly, your pupils dilating to focus on the sight of the large body of water in front of you, glistening beneath the moonlight. A smile slowly etched into your face, and you reached to your right to open the passenger-side door.

It wasn't long before you'd reached the point where the slope began into a downward incline, your feet planted in the grass as you gazed down at the lake you knew had to be freezing—but the road-like reflection of moonlight on the water continued to call your name.

The breeze blew into your face.

You hadn't even heard the approaching footsteps and the crunching of grass when Larry, Ashley, and Sal walked up and joined you.

There was something melancholic about knowing that you were living in a moment you knew you'd miss.

"We should swim," you say, nonsensically.

Sal looks away from the lake and to you from his place on your right side. You turn your head to lock eyes with him.

"Y/N, someone's gonna get sick. I don't think you understand how cold this water gets-"

"Okay then," you mumble. "I should swim," you correct, "and if anyone wants to join me, they are more than welcome."

Larry and Ashley's laughter echoes into the dead air as you ambled down the slope, Sal standing there, watching—before following your lead.

"Let's think this over," he tries, matching your pace with ease. "You're going to regret it when you're shivering all the way home."

"Ashley can blast the heat."

"What if you drown?"

"I won't," you respond, "because you're getting in with me."

You're both stood on the shore of the lake now, locking eyes and regarding each other with your own equally stubborn determination.

"Hey!" You hear Larry's voice call from up the hill. The tension that's formed within the eye contact breaks once you've looked away from each other and peered up at the height of the slope.

"We're gonna go check out that forest over there," Ashley shouts, pointing towards the cluster of trees that were a measurable distance away. "Heard there's some gnarly satanic shit in there. Call if you need anything."

You exchange a glance with Sal.

"Alright," he yells back. "Don't get lost!"

"Can't promise that!" Larry sends both of you a grin before he and Ashley both head towards their destination, the sound of grass crunching steadily quieting as the distance between you grows.

When they're far enough away, you let out a quick sigh of relief. "Finally," you reach down to your shoes and began pulling them off, including socks.

You then reached down to the button of your jeans.

Sal yelps. "What're you doing?!"

You look up with raised eyebrows. "You think I'm swimming in these? I'll sink." You return your focus downward, pulling the zipper down and hook your thumbs around the waistband of your pants. "Nothing you haven't seen before."

It was almost excruciating to hide your sly smile as you bent at the waist to slide the denim down your legs. You stepped out of your jeans, pulled your phone from the pocket, and tossed the shed article of clothing farther up the hill, tossing your phone on top of it.

The device landed with a thud, resulting in an inward cringe on your part.

You didn't allow yourself to regard the fact that you were now standing in front of Sal with no pants on, so you just turned, stepped forward, and tested the water with a toe.

"Liar," you submerge a foot in, your body instinctively shivering against your will. "It's not that cold."

He scoffs, reaching down to rip his sneakers and socks off in your peripheral vision. "You're saying that now, but I'd like to hear the same thing when your bare legs are in there."

Sal tosses his shoes off near where you'd thrown yours along with his phone. He watches you submerge your other foot in, before following your lead.

Sal seems to handle it with a lot more ease than you, both feet now immersed in lake water. He doesn't seem to react physically, only standing with slack shoulders and his head tilted slightly upward. You watch the side profile of the prosthetic, and the way he lifts a hand and passes ringed fingers through vividly blue hair.

Moonlight illuminates the white face of the mask.

You can't see his real face, but you can picture him now. The tranquility of his expression, the curve of his dark eyelashes, his tongue passing over his lips...

The water is up to your calves now.

"I'm sorry," you murmur, angling your chin towards him. It's rushed, and sudden, and you momentarily doubt he even heard it beneath the rippling of water as he moves a bit closer.

"For what?" He asks, turning his head away from the moon and to look you in the eyes.

"I shouldn't have taken the prosthetic off without your permission. The guilt has been churning inside of me and I felt I needed to apologize for it eventually. I'm sorry."

Sal looks down, his eyes following the shape of your thighs before he locks gazes with you again. "You make me feel normal, Y/N. You'd never even asked about it before—and that means the world to me. I won't hold what you did against you."

"But..." you try, but he stops you.

"Y/N," he laughs sweetly. "Don't try and villainize yourself—you did nothing wrong. If anything... it was almost nice to know you weren't scared of seeing what was underneath."

You intake breath for the first time since the conversation began. You felt almost stupid, tears forming in your eyes as you stood within a freezing lake in just a crop top and your underwear.

"You should stop apologizing so much, too. You don't have anything to say sorry for."

"I'm sorry," you repeat, nonetheless.

He chuckles, fixing his gaze onto yours, an almost otherworldly perceptiveness burning in his striking eyes. "I understand how it feels to constantly find fault in yourself for something," he murmurs. "To live with it, to experience that guilt..."

You watch his Adam's apple bob. "It's hard."

A wave of despair washes over your body, and you don't even understand the context of Sal's statement.  You're close to him now, and you can tell he's searching for an excuse to put an end to the topic—so you take his hand and divert attention elsewhere.

"Your rings," you utter, holding his hand delicately, looking over the silver and black rings that adorn his digits. "Where are they all from?"

He lifts his other hand for you so you have full access to every band that he's wearing on his fingers. Once he's shown you his right hand, two rings that seem to share the same theme catch your eye.

"I have a few more in my room," he replies, watching you trace a fingertip over the matching heart rings. "I don't know, I guess I collect them—some are gifted, some I've bought myself..."

"With whose money?" You tease, peering up at him through your lashes. The water swishes a little as Sal adjusts his weight.

His eyes squint a little, so you assume he grins. "I'm not dead broke if that's what you're insinuating."

"No, no," you trail off, looking back down at the rings with admiration. "I love these."

"Got them at the thrift store—something told me I would regret not buying them." He looks back up, stares into your downcast eyes for a long moment, and speaks again, "Why don't you have one?"

Your heart flutters. "You want to give me a ring?"

"Sure. Which one do you want?"

"Sal..." you can't help but smile, tracing his pale knuckle with the pad of your thumb. The swift breeze blows over your bare shoulders and conjures a shiver from your body. "You paid money for these. I don't want to take one from you."

"Don't you want a ring?"

You grin shyly. "Of course I do."

"Okay, pick."

You bite your lip nervously, sliding your finger over the silver ring with multiple black hearts engraved into the entire loop of the band. It didn't take much consideration—you'd fallen in love with the ring as soon as you'd laid eyes on it.

"This one," you audibly decide, meeting Sal's eyes anxiously.

Without another word, he eases the ring off of his middle finger and slides it onto yours. His hands are bigger than yours, and you fear it may not be small enough—but it does. It's a perfect fit.

"It was always kinda small on me," he began. "It's better for you."

You hold your hand out up and toward the moon, twisting it in different angles to examine the way the ring hugs your finger snugly.

You lower your hand back down to his, giggling. "We match now," you say softly, referring to the silver ring with the singular black heart that remained on his hand—the one that corresponded to the one now on yours.

As you absentmindedly turn his hand over, passing your eyes over his rings and the lines of his palms, you notice a faint bruising on his fingertips. Your eyebrows raise in alarm, and you meet his eyes and open your mouth to voice your concerns—but he beats you to the punch.

"It's from guitar strings," he murmurs. "Happens when I press too hard."

"Isn't that supposed to go away once you've played for a while? I've heard you mention once that playing the guitar isn't something new to you."

"Yeah, you're right. It is supposed to," Sal replies, intrigue on his tongue. "I don't know. I guess I'm weird."

You grin, stepping forward and submerged yourself further into the water—just enough so you were immersed up to your knees. You turned to face him. "I don't think you're weird. If you were weird, I wouldn't have gotten into a lake with you. At night... with no one else around. Oh, and with no pants on. That too."

Sal gestures his thumb over his shoulder. "Ash and Larry aren't far. If I were to murder you, they'd hear."

You shrug light-heartedly, bending just a bit to immerse your fingers into the water and flicking some towards him. "You could always cover my mouth and drown me. Effective and easy."

He raises his hands in poor defense, but the light splash still lands, lightly speckling his dark, long-sleeved shirt.

Sal bends just as you had (albeit a bit less, his arms were longer than yours) and splashes you gently. "After I've gifted you one of my prized possessions? Why would I do that?"

"That was only means to gain my trust!" You exclaim playfully, now using two hands to splash him.

"Splash me all you want, but I won't confess to something I'm not guilty of."

You stick your tongue out. "That's what they all say. You're only making yourself look stupid."

"I look stupid?" He laughs, pointing at himself before lowering his hand to splash you with a flick of the wrist. "You're the one with no pants on—in a lake, at night. If you die of hypothermia, it won't be anyone's fault but yours."

"All the more reason for you to murder me in cold blood."

"You're making no sense. Are you still drunk?"

"Ugh!" You groan dramatically, splashing him with much more vigor than the previous few times. He genuinely recoils this time, holding his hands out in defense before dropping them. A light shower rains down over his head, just barely dampening his hair and casting a wet sheen on the prosthetic.

"I'm not intoxicated! How dare you!"

Sal genuinely laughs from his chest, the ridiculousness of the situation hitting him. "I can't believe this," he says, running his hands through his hair.

You roll your eyes and move to immerse yourself in the lake water further, the questionable liquid sloshing around your thighs. That's when you hear a familiar two voices, laughing and yelling, and growing closer.

You and Sal turn to each other—Sal being a lot less concerned than you.

"Oh no," you murmur, looking down at yourself. "I have no pants on!"

Sal laughs (his laughter is normally a sound you genuinely enjoy hearing, but now it's obnoxious because it's not what you need to hear right now) and flits his eyes over you amusedly. "I can see that."

"Larry's a guy! He can't see me in my underwear!"

You look out at the open land, looking for your friends' approaching figures worriedly, but you see no one. You hear splashing as Sal continuously closes the distance between you both. "Yeah, I am too."

You roll your eyes, mutter something about boys never understanding anything, and start trudging through the water, back towards the shore.

Sal follows you through your efforts until you've stepped onto land, remaining perfectly patient even though the coldness of the water slowed your movements the entire journey.

He walks forward and tosses your jeans at you, along with your shoes, then sliding your phone in his pocket along with his device for safekeeping.

"I don't have a towel," you mumble. "My legs are too wet. I'll never get these on in time."

Sal blinks at you after somehow already getting his socks on. "Roll in the grass," he quips tightly like he's holding in a laugh. "That'll dry you off."

You scrunch your nose up and throw your shoe at him. It lands, bouncing off of his head with an audible thump, and then lands in the grass.

"Ow," he deadpans, placing a palm on the place the sneaker had just bounced from. "Geez, how hard can you throw?"

"Hard," you snark, wrestling your pants up your wet legs. Eventually, by the grace of whatever existential forces may exist, you managed to pull the denim up and over your hips.

You're zipping up your fly when Ashley and Larry finally appear.

"Dude," Larry gasps like he's been sprinting, bending to place his hands on his knees in an attempt to catch his breath. "Dude."

You and Sal stare at him curiously.

"There was a-a homeless guy!"

Ashley's laughing hysterically, and Larry doesn't evaluate, so Sal asks for context. "You're gonna have to evaluate, Larry. What do you mean there was a homeless guy?"

"Some dude was living in the woods! Had a whole fuckin' setup! I'm pretty sure he was cooking meth?!"

Sal just blinks repeatedly, like he was astounded, and couldn't believe that this was happening right now. "Did you guys bother him?"

"No," Ashley wheezes. "As soon as we saw him we bounced."

You're slipping on your shoes when Sal speaks again. "Yeah, maybe we should go..."

Larry finally stands up straight and starts up the slope, running his hands through his brown hair that's been messed while running. "Then in the name of the Lord, let's fucking get out of here."

You keep the seating arrangement you'd had on the way to the lake—girls in the front, boys in the back.

As soon as every door of the Ford Fiesta is shut, and the car becomes alive once again, the heat is immediately turned up. You breathe out a sigh of relief, leaning your head back against the headrest and allowing the hot air to blow against the cold flesh of your neck and shoulders. Your thoughts wandered as total relief washed over your body.

"Your jeans are dry," Ashley comments idly, startling you out of your reverie.

You hear what sounds like a laugh quickly concealed by a faux cough emanate from the backseat.

"Yeah," you reply dumbly. Ash stares at you, probably expecting you to say something else, but your mind goes blank, so she doesn't ask any further questions.

"Did I say he had no pants on?!" Larry suddenly blurts, clearly still mildly traumatized. "Everything was- it was just hanging out!"

Ashley cringes. "Don't put that image back into my mind, Larry."

"It wouldn't be the first person half-naked at Wendigo," Sal quips, locking eyes with you in the rearview mirror. No one questions his statement, most likely taking it as a reference to the infamous chaotic nature of that whole area—but you understand, sending him a contemptuous squint.

Ashley loops the car around to the exit path and it isn't very long before the vehicle is back on the road.

As heat sinks into your skin, reaches your cold bones, and the excitement slows down—your thought process de-thaws. You stare out of the window, watching the streetlights as they pass and listening to the sound of an acoustic guitar on the radio.

The music grows louder and drones in your ears. It's not even an electric guitar, but you still think of Sal, and his bruised fingertips. You twist his ring on your finger, running your opposite thumb over the heart-shaped indentations of the band.

Your mind wanders again. You think of that day in the storage room at the school, and that night in his father's car.

Eventually, you'd return the favor. You wanted him to feel as good as he'd made you feel. You owed it to him—and twice over.

But you'd have to wait. Patience was key—and all locked doors needed them.

[fanfics-with-coffee]

The Simple Pleasures

Y'all horny bitches out here really liked my first part so, thanks to a lot of requests, here's part two! Months later but life's a bitch so enjoy some smut because we all need it at this point

After finding out your date, the college student Kuroo, had an OnlyFans and quite enjoying its content you called him and told him to pick you up in 30 minutes. Will you manage to keep your lust under control until you get to his place or do you get stuck on the road? (spoiler alert: you park at a gas station)

Genre: Once again it's just pure smut but it has cute moments Pairing: Kuroo x reader Kinks: Actually pretty vanilla, dirty talking, car sex in a public parking lot Words: 8700

Part 1

Clothes were thrown back on and your hair was once again brushed, you had even changed underwear to hide the mess they had become after what you had done on the couch. All the while your eyes flicked to the phone despite the 30 minutes not even being close to being up. But the time that had passed felt like an eternity and it didn’t help with the nervous feeling you had in your chest all the while. The only thing you were able to do was get ready in front of the mirror and go over what had happened, and what will happen, in your head. And when you finally felt ready, you still had 10 minutes left.

You had planned to use the time to cool down, calm yourself and not let it all get to your head. But as soon as you sat down on your couch, your phone was in your hands. You wanted to scroll through social media but instead the onlyfans app teased you, sitting there on your screen. You remembered that while you had scrolled through a couple of Kuroo’s posts, you had hardly seen them all. And what they could contain was too tempting of a question to not find out. And after all, the content was worth $15 and you shouldn’t waste good money.

So you scrolled through it, mindlessly, watching and reading every post. You were tempted to play any video you came across but if you did, you were afraid that you’d get stuck again and miss the real deal pulling up in front of your house. So you held yourself back, though you gave them a longing look whenever they did pop up. And what had started with trying to cool down was now just riling you up once again, pressing your knees together while bouncing one leg in anticipation. Post after post of him in various stages of dress. Some blunt in their intentions, others teasing the viewer with giving them just barely what they wanted. Luckily, it did make those 10 minutes feel like mere seconds.

A notification popped from the top of the screen.

“Come outside”

You didn’t even have to look at who it came from, you already knew.

There was no hesitation when you closed your phone and put it in your pocket, getting up hastily from the couch and immediately heading for the door. You didn’t even bring your bag, just grabbed your jacket as you passed by and opened the door. Suddenly the cold night air hit your body, giving somewhat of a relief compared to the heat that had spread through your blood. And there he was, sitting in the car with the window down.

He leaned back in his seat, his elbow leaning on the door frame and the lights turned on. The yellow light contrasted the blue hue that night brought and outlined him perfectly. His headlights were still on and the red tail lights were reflecting on the black surface of the car. Even from a distance, you could see the smile form on his face as he saw you leave your home. He had been watching the door since he sent the text, just waiting to see you again.

“Jump in!” He half-yelled from his car, giving his car door two light smacks before he retreated back into the car fully, getting ready to drive as soon as you sat down. You noticed even from a distance that he had the radio playing in the background.

You laughed at his enthusiasm and made sure to lock your door quickly, throwing your jacket just lightly over your shoulders to not get too cold. But as soon as you checked the door once and were satisfied, you turned around and jumped down the singular step to the walkway out from your house. You jogged over to his car as he pulled the window back up, running around to the other side while holding onto the collar of your jacket to make sure it didn’t fall off. Opening the door to the car, you once again sat down in the passenger seat that you had occupied just about an hour ago. Its leather had cooled down since then and felt icy against your thighs but it was just as comfortable as you remembered it.

Kuroo watched you as you sat down, just as casually as he had watched you leave his car last time. One hand on the steering wheel, the other on his thigh. He watched quietly as you pulled off your jacket, throwing it in the backseat before you finally made eye contact. His eyes shone when he smiled at you, though there was something else flickering in them, something that wasn’t as innocent as it had been last time.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” You replied just as simply as he had, holding the eye contact as you did you while smiling back at him. You had even humorously copied his tone, teasing his ‘smooth’ talk. There was a certain tension in the air, a question on how you should approach this situation. But somehow, it wasn’t as awkward as you had feared. Instead, you felt giddy, butterflies fleeing from your stomach and up into your chest.

The silence between you, leaving space for the music to fully envelop you, only lasted a couple of seconds before you both laughed and broke the intense stare. He looked ahead, to the road and you decided to check your phone quickly to get a feel for the time. Another quiet beat passed.

“You ready to ride?” —he turned his head back to look at you, reaching one hand up to turn off the lights— “In more ways than one?”

Click. The whole car was submerged in darkness. You looked over to him again and he gave you an eyebrow wiggle in the darkness that made you laugh. He clearly felt the tension in the air and you were thankful he was an expert at breaking that kind of stuff. Just another thing you really liked about him.

“I sure hope so.” You joke back, but the way you said it did betray you, showing the nervousness in your voice. Though you may have been confident over the phone, it’s a totally different thing to actually be here.

“Not to worry. We won’t do anything if you're not feeling it. If you want to, we could just drive around and talk. I could show you a route I usually take when I can’t sleep, the lights are really beauti—”

“—No!” You suddenly interrupted, the outburst surprising him. “I… I want to.” You had to explain yourself which was embarrassing but you hoped the darkness might hide the blush. Though you also knew that the darkness couldn’t hide the desperation in your voice. You had clearly been devastated if he thought you didn’t want him to fuck your brains out.

He had stopped every movement the moment you spoke and looked at you with his mouth partially opened. But after you had finished what you wanted to say and it registered in his head what you meant, a shit-eating grin formed on his face. While he had had girls beg for him before, somehow the tone of your voice made pride swell in his chest. He didn’t know what you had found on his onlyfans but it was clear you knew exactly how you wanted him and he always said he aimed to please.

“Alright. Sounds good. But I need to do something before we get going.” You looked at him, a little worried about what he meant. But he reached his hand out towards you and you didn’t move. You thought he was going to cup your face again like he had done when he kissed you last time, but he reached behind your head, letting his fingertips drag across the sensitive skin beneath and behind your ear. You leaned a little forwards to give him space as his fingers lightly grabbed the back of your neck and head. The feeling was distracting but light enough to send a shiver down your spine. And then he pulled.

Your lips met over the center console as he had leaned it to meet you in the middle. His head was tilted a little to comfortably kiss you and you naturally did the same to the opposite, closing your eyes as he had done. His lips felt the same as they had done earlier tonight, but instead of butterflies fluttering, it was now like electricity bouncing between you. His lips were hot and soft to the touch, slowly but passionately connecting to yours. You did your best to reciprocate, one of your own hands moving up to carefully touch his neck with the tips of your fingers. After a moment, you could feel his tongue teasingly peek out from his lips. You knew what he wanted and you happily opened your mouth, letting your tongues play with each other.

The feeling built up within you and after a particularly pleasurable move, you couldn’t help but let out a quiet moan. You knew Kuroo had heard it too as he pulled back from the kiss, disconnecting from you and letting the sound from the radio tune back in again. He chuckled as he let his eyes wander over your face, which was now looking part confused and part disappointed. You looked needy.

“I can’t fucking wait to make you moan properly.” He said quietly, his eyes meeting yours. And you could see he meant it. You didn’t even know what to say, evidenced by the fact that your mouth just fell open ever so slightly. At the sight, he began laughing and pulled his hand away, sitting properly in his seat once again. “You look just like the first time I kissed you.”

“I do not!” You protest even though you couldn’t possibly know how you had looked back then. “Plus, you can’t just say that and expect me to know what to say!”

You leaned back in your seat while he shifted out of parking, finally getting the car to move out of the space in front of your house. At the movement, you had to stop pouting and instead put on your seatbelt.

“Why not? I thought you liked the dirty talk. I mean why else would you call me all hot and bothered after you found my onlyfans. It’s how I act in my videos.” You could hear the smile in his voice, his eyes now focused on the road in front of the car as he sped up.

The orange road lights sped past the car, casting long shadows along the road. The only lights inside the car was the dashboard, though it didn’t reach further than Kuroo’s hands. Your eyes drifted to the road, noticing the lack of cars out at this time. It was comforting knowing it was just you and him out here right now. You could still feel your lips tingling after his kisses. The whole scene felt a little surreal in the way car rides at night did.

“Okay, fine, I do like it.” You admitted, exasperated as you leaned your head back. Mostly because he was right.

“Of course you do.” Cocky bastard. “But what was it that made you so wet?” He didn’t even glance your way as he spoke.

“What do you mean? Isn’t it kinda obvious…” You lowered your voice a little, embarrassed to be asked such a specific question. And you knew that if you had to explain yourself, the images you had seen of him would start flashing in your mind again.

“Sure, but I want to hear you say it.” He finally looked over to you briefly, moving his hand from the gear stick to your thigh before he looked back to the road. “Let’s me know exactly what you want me to do to you.”

He squeezed your thigh softly to make a point and you couldn’t help but press your legs together in response. You had to take a moment to reorganize your thoughts before you could speak again.

“Well, I… I dunno.” You hesitated to tell him, you didn’t quite know why. But you tried to explain anyway. “I liked the way you… talked I guess.”

“Talked?”

“Yeah. You sounded so certain, I trusted you even though you weren’t there. And how easy you made it to follow whatever you asked me to do.” –You closed your eyes as you kept talking, thinking back to when you were laying on the couch– “And the little growl to your voice was so fucking hot. Not to mention your hands, I kept imagining how they’d travel up my thighs and touch me. And when you started to get into it, you could hear how turned on you were. T–that’s what I liked about your videos.” You opened your eyes again, remembering where you were, and looked to him.

He was just grinning, having leaned even further back in his seat comfortably. His hand was still on your thigh and you could feel how warm it was as he had grabbed onto you just a little harder.

“Oh, so you’re into that type-a thing, huh. That’s cute.” –He seemed pleased with himself while he spoke–“I can do that kind of stuff. I mean, if we’re going to be honest here, I’ve wanted to have you under me since the moment you opened your mouth when we first met.”

“Seriously?” You didn’t quite know how to react, a blush creeping up your neck.

“Yeah, of course. You were so well spoken and sweet, I wanted to hear how you’d sound all fucked up. When you’d cum three times already and I hadn’t even put my dick in you yet kind of fucked up. I wanted to hear you mewl and beg for me but being unable to make a proper sentence.” He let his eyes flicker to you for a moment again “I want to see you unravel under me.”

You sat quietly for a minute, his words burning inside of you like hot iron, melting and dripping down to your core.

“How long until we’re at your place?” You ask, staring straight ahead.

“Mh… Maybe 20 minutes? Why?” He asked, his eyes not leaving the road either. But he had a feeling he knew where you were going with this.

“Pull over…”

“Oh? Why? Are you getting a little too impatient, kitten?” He smirked, his hand slowly traveling up your leg.

“Yes. So unless you want to become a traffic hazard, you should find somewhere to pull over.” You seemed determined in your request, maybe because you had finally made up your mind.

“Alright, alright. Give me a second, princess.”

He takes his hand off of your thigh, letting it hold onto the wheel as he waited to find a good place to park the car. The two of you drove along the road in a heavy silence, one filled with hot tension that circulated in the car with each breath one of you took. It would be impossible for you to say how long it lasted, your mind a little hazy, but it must’ve been less than 20 minutes since Kuroo turned on the turning signal without any houses in sight. His eyes were focused on a glow by the side of the road, a gas station which was still open in the dark of night. Your eyes followed the road as the car turned off from the main road, your heartbeat sounding louder than the rhythmic beats of the music. The light suddenly shifted as the road lights stopped appearing beside the car, engulfing it in darkness and laying like a heavy blanket over you. Only did it lift when you drove up closer to the station, it’s bright light blue shine partially lifting the darkness.

You realized Kuroo’s plan only when he had gotten off the main road, your eyes widening as you turned your head to look at him.

“Wait are you going to park here?” There was a surprised and worried tone in your voice.

“I planned on it. You wanted me to park as soon as possible, so here we are.” He sounded calm in contrast to you, driving up to the allotted parking lot just meters away from the building.

“But it’s still open, what if someone comes outside?”

“At this time? I doubt it, even if they did, I don’t think they’re gonna look through the window. That’d be pretty intrusive don’t you think? But… If you’re not into it, then we could check somewhere else, dear. Though I dunno how far away that is.”

He parked the car on one of the spots, the front of the vehicle facing the road you had just been driving on and with the gas station visible in the rearview mirror. He made sure the car was properly parked before turning to you, placing one hand on the back of your chair like people do when they reverse. But instead, he looked at you, waiting for a response. A decision needed to be made.

“Well…”—you bit your lower lip briefly—”Fine. But I blame you if we get caught.” You tried looking threatening but he just smiled back at you, forcing you to hold back your own smile. At the decision, he took off his seatbelt and you quickly followed after.

“That’s fair. But c’mon…”—He turned back to you and leaned in, the light from the gas station illuminated half of his face and made his cat-like eyes gleam in the otherwise dark space—”Isn’t the risk a little thrilling.”

“I just think you like the attention, Kuroo, from what I’ve seen from your onlyfans.” You teased, leaning in to meet him midway between the seats.

“Touché, at least I know you like watching.” He retorted a final time before he pressed his lips to yours, shutting the both of you up as you once again melded together.

The car’s engine was still running, a soft hum heard underneath the bass of the song playing at that very moment. But it wasn’t like the two of you were listening, instead too focused on the other person. The kisses exchanged were much like the earlier ones, hot and a little demanding. His hand had left your seat and instead found its place on the side of your neck, much like before, but this time it traveled even further up, lacing your hair between his long fingers. The feeling made goosebumps cascade down your arms and neck, forcing you to take a sharp intake of air through your nose.

The makeout session was dizzying, had you let your emotions lead then you would’ve said you even struggled with what side was up, too lost in the feeling to care about that or anything else. Or at least you thought so, until your back and neck started to ache, not used to the weird angle you were kissing in. And having to lean over the middle part forced you to put a lot of weight on your back muscles. At first, it was just a small tension and you ignored it, but when you started to feel the lactic acid course through said muscles you had to pull away, as much as you hated it.

“Mgh? You okay?” Kuroo asked caringly, almost whispering.

“Yeah I’m totally okay. Or, well, I am but leaning like this is getting really uncomfortable.” You said, leaning back in your seat and stretching your muscles to help relax them again.

“Oh! Well that’s an easy fix then.” He seemed relieved that it wasn’t anything too bad.

“Hm?”

“Come here.” He patted his thighs with both hands, giving you a deceivingly innocent grin. You looked at him like he was crazy.

“What? You want me to climb over there? I’m not that graceful.”

“Oh come on, not everything about sex can be graceful or the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, you gotta be able to laugh and look a little funny. Plus, it’ll be super hot when you’re actually on my lap, no?”

“... You drive a hard bargain, sir. … Fine.”—You give in, since his idea did indeed sound enticing— “But you gotta help me over.”

“Say no more, kitten.” He smiled and held out a hand for you to grab.

You took his hand and crawled up on your seat before carefully doing your best to move over the centerpiece, all the while trying to keep your balance. You felt a little silly doing the whole thing but Kuroo was there to help you the whole time, being nothing but suppotiv—

“Hey, be careful with the seat.” He interrupted your appreciative thoughts with a comment, obviously just teasing you.

“Shut up, asshole.” You tried to hide your laugh, you had always found his type of humor amusing.

“Wouldn’t dick be a better insult in this situation? With context and all.”

“You’re so annoying.”

You finally managed to get over to his side, letting your ass fall onto his lap. Suddenly the light of the gas station was in front of you, only covered by Kuroo and his seat. But this gave him the most ethereal outer glow to him and if he wasn’t so annoying, you would probably have been awestruck. You let go of his hands, using one of them to cover his mouth while the other was placed on his shoulder. Kuroo’s hands found your thighs, starting just above your knee and running upwards. The soft friction of his hands on your thighs as they moved made heat move along with them and settle comfortably in your lower belly. You pushed your ass down a little in appreciation, grinding against his black jeans. At the movement, you could feel his smile beneath your hand.

“Hah, maybe I should keep my hand like this while we continue.” You challenged him with your words, though it wasn’t obviously serious. But of course you wanted to push back a little, you couldn’t just let him have his way, it would be too embarrassing to just let him take your control. It was a little scary. But Kuroo didn’t mind, he just had to make you want to give your control to him.

His hand went up and over your ass, sadly not spending any more time there as he moved to hold your hips in his big hands. He sank down a little in his seat, giving himself some space to move his hips. You looked at him, a little confused as he had shifted down every so slightly. Until he lifted his hips and pushed you down with his hands, grinding against your clothed core. But the friction was enough to shoot pleasure up your spine, surprising you. The sound you made was halfway between a gasp and a moan, the hand over his mouth lifting from his mouth. He took the moment to grab the wrist of the hand which had covered his mouth and held it softly, all the while still rolling his hips against you.

“Awh, baby don’t be so mean.” He leaned in to give a light peck to the corner of your lips, then your cheek and temple while chuckling. You gave in and giggled at his ticklish kisses. His actions seemed innocent but while you were busy, he moved his mouth to your ear. “And don’t you want my mouth all over you?”

You froze, the words in your ear reminding you of the videos he published. The voice dropped down from his normal one, to the point where the rasp he always had in his voice was elevated. And with that, imagery from how you had imagined him eating you out inside this very car flashed in your mind. It sent a strong shiver down your spine, making your back arch ever so slightly. Kuroo couldn’t help but feel it.

“Ah, so we liked that did we?” He smirked as he gauged your reaction, taking you in as your confident facade fell and instead you looked at him with big, almost innocent eyes.

His lips returned to your skin, kissing your neck with gradually hotter kisses. What started out as soft, slow pecks turned into open mouthed kisses. His tongue dragged across your skin, from the base of your neck to just under your ear. Your breathing became deep, only shuddering when he stopped to give a certain spot more attention. He was slow in his movement, caring and loving as he sucked on your neck, his own breathing feeling cool compared to your hot skin. And while your mind was focused on his lips against your neck, you were also aware of his hand letting go of your wrist and moving to your waist and his thumb moving under the edge of your shirt. It rubbed small circles on your skin, getting you used to the feeling. But since you didn’t react or stop his hand, he let it run further up, soon his whole hand was traveling up your side. It lifted your shirt with it, letting the air in the car seep under and onto your skin. Your mouth was slightly parted while your eyes were half lidden, following the mess of black hair moving around your neck and upper chest.

“Can we take this off?” He pulled away briefly and met your eyes.

“Ah, sure…” You sounded a little breathy as you replied.

“And… the shorts too?” He asked, greedy to see more of your body, all the while smiling innocently.

“Fine.” You smiled back at him, running a hand through his messy, black locks. He didn’t waste any time pulling your shirt up and off you, his golden eyes roaming the new area of skin with a hungry look. He even managed to sneak a couple kisses in along your collarbone as his hand fiddled with the buttons to your shorts. You grabbed his hands and he looked up at you, a little confused. “But your clothes gotta go too.”

You sounded a little embarrassed at asking him to strip, but it was only fair. And it wasn’t like Kuroo had any problem with it. He didn’t even reply and just pulled his shirt off without hesitation, throwing the white T-shirt into the backseat somewhere. You had already seen his upper chest in many pictures, but as you were now almost pressed against it, it was much more amazing. You watched his chest rise and fall in deep, slow breaths. He didn’t seem nearly as pent up as you were, but you could already feel something press against your shorts which told you a different story. Maybe it wasn’t noticeable thanks to his fitness or maybe he was just able to keep his cool better than you. Not that it mattered when you splayed your hands across his pecs, feeling his heat creep into the palms of your hands. His confident smile showed his teeth as he watched you stare.

But despite how much he enjoyed your awed looks, he once again took hold of the upper edge of your shorts, his fingers quickly undoing the button and zipper. You let him, gliding your hands back up to his shoulders to give him a better view. Once your shorts were undone he started trying to pull them down, despite still having you in his lap.

“Maybe this lap thing wasn’t such a good idea.” You mutter, raising yourself onto your knees slightly to help him.

“Eh, it’s fine. Just… lean back a little.” —He kept looking down, pulling on your pants the best he could without hurting you— “And pull up your knees to your chest.”

You didn’t expect it to work but did your best to comply, once again sitting down on his lap as you started to lean back. You even started to shift so you could pull up your knees like he asked. But before you could get the shorts off, you leaned back a little mor—

HOOOONK

Your back pressed against the steering wheel and activated car horn. The loud sound made you both jump and you leaned as far forward as you could, pressing yourself against Kuroo. It took a moment before either of you realized what had happened, but as you did, you looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“That scared the shit out of me.” You said after you both had calmed down a bit.

“Yeah, maybe undressing in the front seat wasn’t a good idea…” He admitted, scratching the back of his neck.

“Backseat then?”

“Backseat.”

He helped you back to your seat before he got out of his side, not caring that he wasn’t wearing a shirt in the middle of the night in a gas station parking lot. You at least grabbed your shirt and held it to your chest as you stepped out of the car. You both looked at each other over the roof of the car and just laughed to yourselves, Kuroo even threw a look towards the lit up building to make sure no one was eyeing the two of you. You had already gotten inside the car again when he opened the door and climbed inside too.

Neither of you spoke as you started the annoying work of crawling out of your pants, shoes and underwear. Just throwing glances at the other as more and more of them were exposed.

It didn’t take long until you both sat there, naked and leaning on opposite doors just looking at each other. It was a little chilly in the car and the music was still playing from the radio in the front, none of you having thought of turning it off in your need to feel each other. His eyes were looking you up and down, silent and analysing. You could almost feel the hot trail of his burning eyes on you. You did the same, though you doubt you looked as intense as he did. His thighs instantly caught your attention, toned and thick. One leg was hanging off the seat, the other foot was resting flat on the seat. Resting on its knee was his arm, casually hanging there while he used the other arm to cushion his head from the cold window behind him. Not to mention his dick which was standing, lean and just as big as you had guessed it to be. He looked sort of like the sculptures from ancient Rome, the way his muscled body was leaned back and with how heavenly the light shone around him.

“Well…” —He tilted his head a little to the side, like a cat when they’re watching its prey —”Are you going to come over here or do you want me to crawl over to you?” He raised his eyebrow, smiling while he waited for your answer.

But you couldn’t come up with any. Your brain had finally short circuited which just left you with a semi-opened mouth and wide, dumbfounded eyes.

“What? Cat got your tongue?”

He moved forwards, holding onto the back of the seat as he raised himself above you. You could see his shoulder muscles moving just below his skin as he reached out his other hand to grab your ankle. He really did look like a predator and you felt like a prey in the best way possible. You let out a small gasp as he pulled you towards him but let him open your legs without any resistance. He looked down at your pussy, taking in a deep breath as he took it all in. He had moved so your ass was dragged up on his lap with your head laying on the seat, forcing you to look up at him.

“You look so pretty like this…” —He teased, his hands running up the underside of your thigh and calf, placing one leg over his shoulder while the other wrapped around his waist —“And look how wet you are.”

His smile looked a little wicked as he wrapped an arm around your thigh, slowly letting his thumb slide from your entrance up to your clit. It became covered in your juices and you arched your back, trying to hold back the moan that his action created. He glanced at your face to gauge your reaction before doing it again, this time pressing a little harder. You whimpered this time, closing your eyes.

“Princess, you gotta look at me.” He wasn’t too happy about you trying to avoid looking at what he was doing to you. So he pressed his thumb to you again, this time circling your clit instead of making contact with it, much to your disappointment.

You shook your head a little and heard him sigh above you. Suddenly you felt teeth against your inner thigh and sharp, though mild, pain. You yelped and opened up your eyes in shock, looking at him finally. He did waste anytime once he met your eyes to start rubbing your clit quickly and with purpose. This time you couldn’t hide your moan as it escaped your lips and bounced around his car. He didn’t let up, he didn’t give you a break.

You curled your toes and lifted your hips to chase after his touch. He didn’t say anything, focused on kissing and biting your inner thigh as his fingers kept working your clit. You watched him watching you, your eyes struggling to stay open just as he had told you. The prior teasing had made you sensitive and you felt yourself rush towards the familiar high, towards what would be the second climax this evening. But he felt your muscles tense and your nearly stilling breath told him just where he had you, and before you could fall off the edge… His fingers left you.

“You’re so sensitive, kitten…” — you could feel the vibrations of his laugh against the soft skin of your thigh— “But I don’t want this to be just your regular orgasm.”

You whined and moved your hips helplessly, the leftover energy in your body bouncing around inside of you with nowhere to go. Despite the soft smile Kuroo gave you, his eyes were that of a greedy, unforgiving torturer. And so he hooked his arm under the leg around his thigh, bringing it up over his shoulder as well. You just compiled, doing your best to help him from the position you were in, a little dazed.

“Good girl.”

He didn’t look at your face anymore, instead feasting his eyes on your cunt which was now up near his face. Your wetness had spread out around your pussy and your upper inner thighs and he lavished in the knowledge he had messed you up so badly. He could’ve kept admiring the view until you made a displeased noise.

“Are you just gonna keep staring or what? It’s cold…” You spoke softly and it lacked any edge, sounding less annoyed and more disappointed. He snapped out of his trance and chuckled.

“Of course, baby, I was just admiring how pretty you looked like this… maybe I should take a pic for my Onlyfans?” He teased you and you used as much strength as you dared to kick his back with your heel, making him flinch and laugh. “Ow- Hey I’m just kidding!”

He caressed your leg with his hand and finally lowered his head, his tongue falling out of his mouth to meet with your entrance. He pressed the wet muscle between your lower lips, and with one broad lick went the whole length of your quim. You could even hear a quiet moan from deep in his chest before he raised his head a little again.

“I want this all for myself anyways.”

The way he said it, a quiet sort of lovingly possessive tone, made you shiver. You didn’t have the time to reply as he repeated the action once more and then another. He kept eating at your core, sporadically sucking on your clit or dipping his tongue deep in your honeypot. And when he felt like you were getting too riled up, he’d slow down to a painfully docile speed, watching you with those bright eyes. Your whole body tensed at the pressure, your arms going up above your head to press against the car door on your side.

You looked up at him again and a false memory flashed in your head.

Maybe he’d do it in the back of his car, the one he took you home in. Parked just outside your house after a date, you two would be crammed into the back. He lifted your legs over his shoulders, the blood rushing to your head from the angle he was holding them up at. Your hands were pushing against the door from the inside, stuck staring at him as he ate you out. Slowly and calculating. He was taking his sweet time with you, his tongue gently circling your bundle of nerves. He was doing it hard enough to make your hips twitch and your mouth whine but not enough to rile you up further than that. If you were starting to zone out too far he’d introduce his fingers to you again. Pushing two inside with ease and fucking you with them until you were raising your hips even further and about to cum. Then he’d pull away fully, leaving you to fall from your high in the matter of seconds. All because he wanted you to watch him properly as he made it all start over again.

The fantasy that you had imagined just an hour or so ago. A random thought that some perverted god out there fulfilled. And for just a short moment, you thought that maybe wishes do come true if you just wish hard enough.

Suddenly pain shot from your clit, jolting you back into the moment. Kuroo was frowning, pinching your clit softly with his fingers.

“Y/n, focus.” He reprimanded you as if you had been doodling in class.

“I am.” You replied breathlessly, wearing a frown yourself at his silly comment.

“You weren’t, I could see it in your eyes.” — he started rubbing your button again while he spoke — “Here, I’ll give you a good reason to lose your mind.” He smiled again and dove back in with his mouth, pressing his tongue against your clit and moved his fingers. He let a finger slip in easily, and then a second, gradually picking up a steady pace. You clenched around his fingers instinctively but that didn’t stop him.

You tried to give him a witty response but as soon as you opened your mouth, the only thing that came out of it was moans and whines in time with your quick breaths. The knot in your abdomen had started tightening again. And you prayed that he would let you tip off the edge this time.

He was relentless, steady and stubborn in his ways and you were powerless under him, your nails digging into the material. Your back arched more and more the closer you came to your climax. And he watched you carefully, he had been since you entered his car, always gauging your reaction. And it made you feel like you were going up in flames, the heat of your bodies fogging up the windows of the car.

His tongue kept circling your clit and you gripped his fingers as hard as you could to the point you could feel each knuckle going in and out of you. You were reaching a peak.

“Kuroo… I-I’m about to-”

“I know, babygirl, go ahead.” He momentarily disconnected his mouth to speak before going back at it with doubled motivation.

And with his promise to let you cum, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath in, holding it as all your nerves lit up. Your whole body was tense, hard wound as you prepared for the inevitable. Your legs closed around his head, your soft thighs pressing against the sides of his head. And when it finally came, only seconds later, you could feel yourself fall from the edge, the familiar sensation of climax washing over your body in hard waves, spasming around his digits. He never stopped, helping you ride it all out until your body collapsed onto the seat. You cracked your eyes back open just as he pulled his head away, the last thing leaving you being his tongue.

He was grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

He softly lowered your body, removing your legs from his shoulders with utmost care before using one hand to wipe your wetness from his face. Leaning down, he placed soft kisses to your lips which you returned, though exhausted. Despite how heavy your arms felt, you even raised them to wrap around his upper body and let your fingers trace down the middle of his back, feeling every bump of his spine.

“You still down for more?” He whispered, checking in on your energy level.

You gave one last, slow kiss to his lips before replying

“Of course, I haven’t been staring at your dick on onlyfans all night just to leave it hard and dry.” You smiled, looking up at him.

“Fuck, that’s just what I wanted to hear.” He grinded his hips against yours just to prove his point.

He pulled you up against his chest much easier than you thought and pushed both of you closer to the door, letting you rest your back against it. You shifted a little, getting comfortable in the new position, moving your legs to let one wrap around his waist and the other hang off the seat

.

He looked down on himself and grabbed his dick, pumping it a couple of times with his fist before he positioned it in front of your drenched hole which was more than ready to take him. He edged the tip just past your folds before looking up to your face, his hand leaving a trail of goosebumps as it moves from your waist, up your chest and to the side of your face. He used his thumb to gently rub your cheek as he slid more and more of him into you. He didn’t hesitate as it easily slid to the hilt, freezing his movements as a shuddering breath left him when he felt your pussy around his cock. It felt like the whole world was spinning around the car, your head light and airy as you watched the man in front of you. His eyes had fallen to watch the place where the two of you were connected, his chest heaving with each deep breath. You even saw a smile form on his face.

“Hah… You feel so fucking good y/n. Such a good girl.” —he used his legs to raise himself up a bit to get a better angle before he slowly pulled back out to just the tip— “I want to ruin you so badly…”

Your eyes widened by the carnal tone of his voice before gasping as he slammed back into you. He repeated the action again and again, his need to fuck your brains out in the forefront of his mind as he pounded into you. He had been so soft and careful until now but as soon as you gave him a finger, he took the whole hand and you didn’t blame him. This whole time had been about your pleasure that now that it was finally his turn he was nearly desperate. You could feel it in the way he moved, the way he put his back into it, savoring every inch of your warm embrace.

The light from the outside was shining in again, hitting the side of his body and reflecting off his sweaty skin, giving him a white, holy glow despite the utterly sinful way he was looking down on you. You bounced on his dick, doing your best to stay steady against his merciless speed, taking hold of the seat beneath you with both hands and holding yourself up while he gripped your hips and pulled you against him.

“You’re clenching around me so hard right now, kitten, ah... does it feel good? Because it… fuck… it feels so fucking good right now. You’re so amazing, and beautifull and” —it sounds like he’s about to say something else before something suddenly clicks within him and he presses his face next to your ear and growls— “and all fucking mine”

His voice dropped low and sent a shiver down your spine and right into your abdomen, adding yet another drop to the cup of your steadily filling need. He slams his open palm against the foggy window besides your head and any cohesive thoughts sound far away. All you can perceive is the steady, hot pounding of his cock and the grunts he lets out right besides your ear together with the music sounding like white noise from the radio in the front. You couldn’t even care less if you wake up tomorrow with random bruises or sore muscles from today. All you care about is him.

Him and how he makes you feel.

“Princess… rub your clit for me” He speaks but you can’t react, lost in the moment. So he takes one of your hands and moves it to your own cunt. “Come on, y/n, do it for me.”

You can still not quite come to but you get the hint and let your fingers find your still sensitive clit. Your breath catches in your throat as electricity shoots from where your fingers touched, the feeling nearly too much for you to continue and you hesitate.

“Don’t you- ah fuck… don’t you dare stop now, baby. “ He guides your fingers with his thumb, boldly pressing them right against your clit and you whine loudly, to which he quiets you with a kiss while continuing to guide your fingers in circles. To help you with the overstimulation, he decides to give more stimulation to something else and angles his hips just a little higher, aiming it to hit where your g-spot should be. And it hits.

You cry out in pleasure as both your sensitive spots are played with as he keeps pulling you down on his cock, letting the edge of the head rub against your inner walls as you start desperately moving your fingers by yourself. He seems pleased as he focuses on his own movements again, his lips finding your open neck while your head is thrown back. He sucks hard, unable to regulate his strength as his mind is filled with pleasure. But the pain misinterprets in your own head as more pleasure and drives you even more crazy, your adam's apple bobbing as you swallow hard.

“Are you going to cum for me again?” —He breathes against your neck and you nod repeatedly.— “which number is this, have you kept track?” He taunts you.

“T..the third time…” You say, forgetting that he couldn’t have known about the time you masturbated to his videos.

“Third time? ...Don’t tell me you made yourself cum to my videos, did you? Hahah...Was that the real reason you called me, because you couldn’t get yourself off as good as you just thought I could? I can’t say I’m ah... surprised, I mean you sounded like you needed to be fucked even over the phone”

His words were sharp and dripping with lust, slowly filling you with his dirty talk and bringing you even closer to cumming.

“I’m…. Kuroo I’m about to cum again...”

“Of course you are, go on, cum on me, kitten. Keep rubbing that cute clit of yours while I fuck you sore.”

He sped up even further as you rubbed your clit just like he said. You placed your other hand on his shoulder and dug your nails into his skin, surely leaving crescent marks after you. But you didn’t care, you just wanted to feel your body fall off again. And you wanted to feel him fall with you into that deep whirlpool of ecstasy and lust. You circled your hips, winding up that aching need inside you but you tried to hold out, waiting for him.

But it proved too hard, he just kept going without showing a single sign of needing to stop any time soon. And when he kissed you again, passionate and hard, your mind exploded into a million pieces. Your whole body jerked and pulsed and the corners of your vision blacked out and left you with the piercing yellow eyes that watched you almost calmly despite his merciless pace. You rode out another high with his help, thinking that he’d come to his end too. But he kept going, the numb feeling your climax had left you with suddenly turned into painful pleasure.

“I-it’s too much…! K-kuroo!” Tears started prickling your eyes and you sharply pulled your hand from your clit and held onto his other shoulder with it too. But Kuroo couldn’t let you have that and replaced your hand with his own.

“Just a little more, a little more and you’re done. You're clenching around me so hard right now, it’s so fucking hot.” He reassured you, pressing his forehead against yours as he was on the verge himself.

You nodded and closed your eyes, allowing him to do as he wished with your body. But it felt like forever, as if your orgasm had never stopped and just kept going with every pulse of your racing heartbeat. With every breath from the man on top of you, with every rub of your clit, with every car passing by on the street below the parking lot.

“Cum in me, Kuroo, please.” You managed to get out between breaths, a carnal need for him pushing you to speak as you felt him lose his rhythm and focus on the situation.

“As you fucking wish, kitten.”

You felt him sheath himself as deep into as he could before freezing in place, closing his eyes and pinching his brows with his mouth falling open while one hand held you in place, the other pushing you over what you can only guess was your fourth orgasm but it all blurred together in the heat of it all. You could feel Kuroo’s dick pump his seed into you, the warmth almost burning thanks to how sensitive you were.

And when he finished, he collapsed on top of you. You took his weight, wrapping your arms around his neck with a silly smile on your face. Both of your eyes were closed as you got your grasp on reality again.

“That was…. addictive… I think I’m addicted.” he mumbled in your neck, giving it slow kisses as he got his energy back.

“And you were way better than the pictures, and that’s pretty impressive.”

“Hah, thanks… You want something to drink or eat? I could get something from the gas station.”

You lightly slapped the back of his head.

“Ack-! Just joking, again.”

“I don’t think I could imagine facing them ever again. I’d die of embarrassment.” You lean your head back against the window and turn it to get a glance outside of the fogged up window, seeing the handmark he had left.

“Hey, you were the one who couldn’t wait until we got to my place.” —he reminded you— “Hm, about that actually. How about a breakfast date tomorrow?”

You make a questioning sound and try to look at his face, to which he finally raises it and faces you.

“You could sleep at my place aaaand then we could head to this cute pancake place I know in the morning.”

“You just wanna do this again in a proper bed, don’t you.” You could read his cheeky grin like he was an open book.

“What, me? Nooo. But if you wanna do it again then I’m down.”

You don’t even say anything and instead try to hide the giggles that leaks out between loving kisses.

[junicai]

not working.

| summary | With swimming walls and tablets that don’t work, who’s better suited to take care of a feverish Aria than her doting older brothers?

| word count | 3k

| warnings | illness

| era | circa. November 2018

31. "This is the third time I've had to put you back in the bed. Why the hell do you want to lie on the floor so bad?"

a/n: cassia: “127 doesnt call aria baby that often.” also cassia: “babybabybabybaby-”

Aria got sea sick easily. The combination of the waves that had a boat rocking back and forth and back and forth over and over again had her stomach rolling in tandem. The floor would wobble beneath her feet and her vision with it, the grey water lapping against the small window in the belly of the ship. 

It was an unnerving experience - and one she’d never like to repeat after the first hour-long boat trip she took aged eight, that had her hanging over the stern and gagging, face as pale as the seafoam that clapped against the sides of the small boat. 

The minutes crawled by and the only real memory Aria has of the trip is how she stumbled off the boat and onto the pier, legs like jelly and hands outspread to catch herself when she inevitably pitched forward onto the cobbles. 

It was not an experience she ever wished to repeat. 

And yet, with her bedroom walls seemingly swimming around her head and her stomach rocking like a dinghy in a turbulent sea, Aria couldn’t imagine being on a boat was much worse than this. Hell, she’d take standing over the barriers over lying on her back in sweat-soaked sheets, tossing and turning in an attempt to keep the left side of her body tucked beneath the blankets and the right side exposed to the cool air. 

She felt like she was being baked alive, yet simultaneously like she was resting beneath a block of ice. Her flushed cheeks paired with her dazed eyes made it hard to focus on anything, and for the third time in the last minute, she found herself flopping over angrily to try and find the cool side of her pillow. 

She landed on the ground with a heavy thunk, and if a whine left her lips at the impact then that was between her miserable self and the walls. 

And apparently Taeil, who had peeked in his head at the exact time she’d rolled herself out of the bed. 

He sighed heavily, eyes pinched as he set down the blue mug he was holding on a pile of books on the desk, the steam fogging up the small mirror behind it. 

“This is the third time I’ve had to put you back in the bed. Why the hell do you want to lie on the floor so bad?” He scolded with no real heat behind his words, hands already slipping beneath her knees to heave the slight girl back onto the bed. 

Aria only whined again, rolling over to face the wall when she was safely placed onto the bed. She jerked lightly when her back twinged with the movement, but refused to turn back around when Taeil placed a comforting hand on the exposed skin of her lower back from her thin t-shirt riding up. 

“Doyoungie’s gone to get the pills you need, okay? He’ll be back in twenty minutes, tops, and then we can get you an ice-pack,” 

Aria shook her head. 

“A heat pack, then,” Taeil compromised. 

Aria huffed, biting her lip to stop the pained whimper from breaking out from between her lips as Taeil’s fingers pressed ever so slightly into the tensed muscle.

“I know, baby, I know.” He soothed, his gentle massaging not ceasing. “It hurts, right?”

She nodded, curling over into herself. 

“Ah, no no. Don’t do that,” Taeil leant over to straighten her back up. “You’ll strain your back even more like that, and then where would we be?” 

Aria swallowed her protest that told Taeil in not-so-nice-words that it was more comfortable than whatever weird pencil position she was currently lying in; knowing that he was only trying to help, and her being difficult was only going to make him upset. 

But god why did it have to hurt this much? 

She knew that coming down so hard off the stage was going to put her out of action for a while, but it had been eight months and she was still getting flare-ups of pain after every second practice they held. She was getting sick of needing to take a break every hour and sit against the mirror with an ice-pack cradled to her back. 

With the low-grade fever that she was now running because the universe hated her and wanted her to suffer, the world sucked and Aria was content to believe that every living thing had it out for her.

Except for Taeil. He was lovely.

A tear escaped the tight hold Aria had on her tear ducts and despite the hand she shot up to cover her nose, the sniffle she made was still obvious to Taeil’s attentive ears. 

He leant over slightly, looking for her face and sighing lightly when she only turned to bury it in the singular pillow that had escaped her earlier thrashing and hadn’t ended up on the floor. It was a nice comfort, and she shoved her nose further into the cotton when Taeil bent over further. 

“Baby no, it’s okay. It’s okay to cry, that’s okay. C’mere,” Taeil paid no heed to Aria’s soft cry at being moved again, and ever-so-carefully tugged the girl into his lap where he could still rub a hand over her locked muscles while using his unoccupied thumb to swipe away the tears that threatened to spill over her waterline. 

Aria blinked up at him for a moment, his hair falling in to his eyes but not masking the concern that blew his pupils wide and the way he was so gentle with swiping underneath her eyes knowing that they were strained because she hadn’t been wearing her glasses recently; and promptly burst into tears. 

Taeil only tugged her closer, letting her hide her face in his stomach this time as he pet through her hair that hadn’t been washed in three days and was really full of tangles that caught on his fingers as he tried to comb through it without disturbing the crying girl in his lap. 

He resumed his careful massaging of her back - well-versed with the act with Taeyong, a dongsaeng possessing the same crippling inability as Aria that left them unable to see a 'time to stop sign' if it hit them in the face - but paused when he saw the bruises creeping up her lower spine and past the edge of the t-shirt. 

Eyebrows knitting together, he looked down at Aria, who’s cries were slowly beginning to peter out. 

“Ari,” He began softly, “I thought the medication was helping?”

She stiffened beneath his hand, and Taeil recoiled slightly, if nothing but to make her feel a little more at ease. 

At a closer inspection, the colours were a myriad of different colour; some a reddish-purple, and others a yellowing brown, spreading far over her back and onto the tops of her arms that were visible through the loose neck hole, meaning that they were far older than Aria’s first tumble out of the bed - an event that had only occurred that morning.

When Taeil brushed his fingers lightly over the bruise, Aria jerked away. 

With her back pressed onto the wall, she paid no mind to the short stab of pain that fired up her spine as her wet eyes met Taeil’s, deep concern only growing behind them. 

“Ari, what’s that? Are they not helping?”

She shook her head. 

“You should have told us, baby, we could have brought you back to get you tested again-”

“No!” Aria’s shout startled both herself and Taeil. 

Doyoung’s head appeared in the doorway. “Why’re we yelling?” 

Aria shrunk back against the wall, knees curling up to her stomach. Doyoung tutted, moving forward to unfurl her legs. “Don’t sit like that, you’ll only cause yourself more pain.” 

It was true, that position had sent electric shocks up her lower back but she was too stubborn to admit that to him, so instead she settled for looking down at the sheets, fingers fumbling with a loose thread.

It had snagged on one of her rings a couple of weeks ago, pulling the jewelry away from her finger in such a way that it scraped against the skin - leaving a shallow, but still painful, cut on the top of her finger. 

Aria had slapped a band-aid on it without giving it much thought after rinsing the blood off of her hand underneath the tap, but when the band-aid had inevitably slipped off nearly two hours later during a dance practice, the tiny cut was still oozing blood slightly. 

“You wanna tell me what’s going on? Or do I have to ask hyung?” Doyoung came to sit down on the bed beside her, hand seeking out hers to stop her pulling at the thread. “Don’t pull on that, you’ll make it worse.” 

“Sorry.” Aria mumbled, not looking at him. 

A silence filled the room for several seconds, broken by Doyoung’s clearing of his throat.

“Well?” 

Aria’s lower lip trembled slightly. “It’s nothing, really, Taeil oppa was exaggerating slightly,”

“I wasn’t.”

“It’s just that - it’s nothing, it’s not a big deal, please don’t freak out, I promise if I was in pain I would have gone to someone, you or Taeil oppa or Yuta or someone -”

“Baby, you need to breathe.”

She hadn’t even noticed that she was hyperventilating.

With a choked gasp, Aria cut herself off and inhaled greedily, hands grasping at her throat as she coughed. Doyoung knelt forward to pat her back as Taeil came to sit down on the other side of her. 

She stayed silent for the next minute, working on getting her breathing back under control as Taeil murmured soft encouragements and Doyoung coaxed her lungs back into working order with a gentle hand rubbing over her back.

It was comforting, right up until Doyoung sat back and fixed her with another look. Something that said you’re not getting out of this one and something that Aria hated with a passion being on the end of, because she never once got out of it.

It’s the reason Donghyuck got in trouble for accidentally breaking Jaehyun’s favourite mug. She just couldn’t lie. 

“What’s going on, baby?” 

Aria sniffed. “Promise you won’t be mad?” 

Doyoung and Taeil exchanged a look. “Promise, baby. We won’t be mad, but you have to tell us what’s going on, okay? The whole truth, not a part of it.”

Breath stuttering a little bit, Aria twisted her back as much as it would allow her without pain to tug up the end of her t-shirt and show Doyoung the bottom ends of the bruises that amassed her back and shoulders. 

They were crude colours, and honestly, Aria wouldn’t blame a person if they saw them and thought she had been beaten with a stick. The deep purpling, almost black colour was offset by the sickly green and yellow tinge the healing bruises had taken, only to be covered yet again by fresh contusions encroaching on the skin.

By the sharp intake of breath, Doyoung agreed with her. 

“Baby,” His voice was anguished. “No, baby, you told us the medication was helping? 

The medication. It had been four months since she’d been to the hospital to get the seemingly-endless bruises that appeared out of nowhere checked out. The sterile walls were cold to stare at as she was poked and prodded and asked indirect questions that were actually meant for her manager to answer, and the conversation that they’d had over her head made her feel small. 

She’d been given a pat on the head for her troubles, and sent out of the ward with a prescription for PROCRIT, a small tablet that was - she was told - made of epoetin alfa, designed to treat her condition. 

Having been cautioned against the side-effects, and being told to take them once a day in the morning, Aria had fitted the tablets into her morning routine; right after the multivitamin she was also instructed to take daily. 

And, after a month of downing a tiny white pill each morning; nothing had happened. The bruises were still appearing at an alarming rate, barely healing before another one could take its place. 

But the members had looked so relieved when Aria had come back into the dorms with an orange bottle clutched in her fist - so very relieved that there was something that could help, that yes, they knew what was wrong and there in those tiny white pills lay the answer that had been alluding them for so long. 

Aria hated those tiny white pills. 

Hated everything about them.

Nevertheless, she couldn’t bare to see Yuta look at her with such worry in his eyes again, couldn’t bare to see the flicker of panic that brushed Renjun’s face as he’d catch a glimpse of a mottled bruise over her collarbone. 

She’d kept it hidden from most of the members, but unfortunately, some were more perceptive than others. 

Taeyong, Yuta and Donghyuck were amongst the first to notice, with Renjun, Mark and Doyoung coming close behind. The other 127 members had been filled in when Aria had been sent to the hospital for her checkup, but the decision had been made to not tell the Dreamies until there was a prognosis available. 

Anemia, was what they’d called it. Her blood cells just, went AWOL. Called it a day, and took the evening off. 

So, taking it all into account, Aria couldn’t see the harm in keeping it all under wraps. She wasn’t in pain, and it wasn’t like anemia could kill her, even if the medication wasn’t doing what it was designed to do. It meant that she could stop taking the little pills, and if she had a stash of them buried in a cup in her bedside locker that she hid them in; then that was her business and nobody else’s. 

Well. Until now. 

“It did help! At the beginning!” Aria insisted, the lie spilling off her lips easily in an effort to sooth the upset that was building in the room.

A hand on her thigh had her looking over to Taeil, the man appearing grim. “You don’t have to make the truth pretty for us, baby. Tell us what’s going on. Why haven’t they been helping? Have you been taking them daily?” 

“I- I stopped.” 

“When?”

“A couple of weeks ago - I didn’t see the point in buying them when they weren’t helpful so I, I didn’t tell anyone when they ran out.” She hung her head slightly, focused on the flooring. 

“Oh, baby.” Doyoung extended an arm and Aria all but flung herself into his chest. He ran a hand over her head and held her there, just breathing together. She really felt like crying again, even though the last time was only a couple of minutes ago. Everything was piling on top of each other; her back feeling like someone had tried acupuncture and failed miserably, the fact that she could probably sear a steak on her forehead what with how hot it was, the fact that she still couldn’t see because her glasses were on her locker, and now this? 

“You know, we’re going to have to talk about this secret-keeping, right? Like it or not, you’re our maknae, and that means you don’t lie to us.” He pulled away to find her eyes, fixing her with a stare. “Especially, about important things like your health.” 

“Had we known that they weren’t helping, we would have gone back to the hospital, seen what they could have told us. You didn’t need to hide this from us  baby.” Taeil interjected, hand finding Aria’s.

She shook her head. “Don’ wanna go back to the hospital. Don’t like it there.”

Doyoung ran a hand through her hair. “I know baby, I don’t think many people do. Would you feel better if oppa came with you?”

That’s how you know Doyoung was really worried. If he referred to himself as oppa, in any context, then it was never really a question in the first place. 

Aria forwent a verbal confirmation and chose to nod instead, pushing herself back into Doyoung’s warm embrace. He wrapped his arms around her, and held her loosely, still mindful of her back. 

Speaking of, Taeil had disappeared midway through the conversation, now re-appearing with a glass of water and a painkiller tablet in the palm of his hand. His face was apologetic, but non-yielding as he pushed the pill into Aria’s palm and held up the glass of water for her to swallow it with. 

The water was nice on her throat, and she realized how thirsty she was as she held onto the glass and drank the water, not caring of the little bit she spilled over her lower lip. 

Taeil wiped it away with the end of his sleeve, folding up the now damp material before extending an arm and leaning back onto the pillow on her bed. 

And Aria was weak, but even more so when she felt like the world was out to get her, so she went willingly into his embrace, letting him settle her in a position that wouldn’t strain her back. 

“Heat or ice?” Doyoung called from the doorway. 

“Heat?” Taeil looked down to check on an already dozing Aria. She nodded sleepily and, Taeil relayed the message to Doyoung, who disappeared through the door frame. 

Aria snuggled deeper into Taeil’s chest, and the man pressed a cool hand to her forehead, frowning a little at the head. 

“If I leave you to get a fever reducer, will you try to roll off the bed again.”

“No promises.”

[poppysicle]

A Late Night Snack - Marichat

I was inspired by @cat-saturn‘s art of Marinette and Chat Noir eating spaghetti. This is my first time writing any Miraculous Ladybug Fics, but I couldn’t help it and it’s been years since I’ve written so I’m rusty and I apologize!

It was later than she expected it to be.

All the tossing and turning throughout the night kept her awake, the moon continuously shining in the bedroom from the window. It felt like the night was going for an eternity. Marinette sat up in her bed, the sheets falling from her chest to her waist, her hands coming up to her face so she could rub her eyes with her palms. Reaching over to the side table beside her bed, she unhooked her cellphone from the charger to read the time.

12:13 AM

Marinette groaned as she fell back with her head hitting the pillow. She glanced at her window, only seeing the streetlamps glowing and the building across the way from the third floor and up. It was quiet, not a sound in the streets. She finished her patrol a mere three hours ago and she almost wished she stayed out as long as Chat Noir planned on.

She pushed the duvet off her body and swung her legs off the bed to stand up, immediately as if on cue, her stomach rumbled. Marinette thought about what she had eaten today but realized she forgot to have dinner before the patrol and was too drained to cook after. The walk to the kitchen was quiet but she turned on a lamp that left a light glow into the apartment. Her hands reached for the window to open it to bring in the cool Paris air before retrieving the pots and pans she needed to make some spaghetti.

The pot of water began to boil in no time as she prepped the noodles and started to make the sauce. The apartment began to smell of the delicious home cooked sauce her father taught her to make before she moved out for the days they went out on their date nights or group dinners with their own friends.

It was an easy dish to make and one that never took long to make. Marinette realized she might’ve made too much in the end as she drained the noodles. The sound echoed in the living space as she placed the noodles back in the pot and took out a plate.

A sudden movement caused her to jump as she turned towards the window to see a familiar figure with bright green eyes. Chat Noir sat on the window seal, smiling at her as he waved with his baton in hand. She let go of the breath she had been holding, this was nothing new with this feline and Marinette couldn’t help but smile.

“Good evening, Marinette. Sorry to barge in without question,” he greeted sheepishly, “but I could smell your cooking from a mile away!”

Marinette laughed quietly, “I’m assuming you’re hungry too?”

Chat Noir nodded immediately with his blonde, short hair bouncing slightly in motion and glanced at the singular plate in her hand, “Happen to have an extra plate to spare?”

“For you? Always.”

He beamed at her response and watched her grab another plate from the cabinet before filling them both with noodles and placing sauce on top. She handed him a plate with silverware and he took a spot beside the window. Marinette jumped onto the kitchen counter across from him and grabbed the plate before taking her first bite.

They both let out a happy sigh as they ate quietly together. Chat leaned back into the counter as he stood, looking outside the window at the city. Marinette noticed his eyes and tried to follow his eyes but the wall blocked her vision.

“How is your night going?” She asked, bright blue eyes on him.

“Eh, nothing too bad. A cat was stuck in a tree, someone with a dead phone was lost, and a young tourist was upset about missing her parents.” Chat shrugged before meeting her eyes. “It was quite boring tonight.”

Marinette nodded, “I can understand that. Was Ladybug not on patrol with you tonight?”

The man shook his head with the jingle of his bell, “She was earlier but had to leave early. Now it’s just little ol’ me, but I don’t think I’m doing the best job if I let myself get distracted by some pasta.”

They both laughed and Marinette shrugged, “I’m sure she doesn’t mind you taking a small break anyway.”

“I can only hope so!” He replied but not before furrowing his eyebrows. “By the way, why are you up right now?”

She paused, not daring to look at him before pursing her lips. “I couldn’t sleep, I guess I have a lot on my mind right now.”

“You seem like a busy person.”

“With too many responsibilities,” Marinette frowned. “I wish I could have a break but I don’t recall ever having one longer than an hour in the past five years.”

Chat frowned with her, “What’s got you so busy?”

The blue-haired girl shook her head, “It’s nothing crazy. Maybe I’m just bad at time management?”

“Well, if you ever need anyone to lighten the load I can help out! Or, I’m sure you’ve got some great friends who can help out.”

“I don’t think so, I personally haven’t been the greatest friend.”

She thought back to her time in high school, the constant lying and disappearing. The hiding so many secrets she couldn’t bear to hold on own, until Alya gave her a chance to open up. She told Alya everything and a little bit of weight went off her shoulders. But, it still didn’t help that she felt like a horrible friend to everyone; including the one she loved.

Adrien had tried many times to give her a chance to open up, but it made her closet into her own mind more and more. She didn’t think she’d ever have a chance to be with him and give him the love he deserved due to her lack of existing around everyone. It was hard to let him go as well as some of the other people in her life. It was what she thought was best and she almost did the same with Chat.

But, he wouldn’t allow her to hide away and he was right to do so. She was his partner, right-hand man, and world. Marinette realized she still needed him no matter what even though she said some mean things. In the end, that is what truly kept her up all night. Almost losing the last person she needed the most. Yet, here he is, not speaking horribly of Ladybug and not letting anything bother him because he knows her so well and how much he means to her.

“Don’t let it get to you,” Chat broke her out of her thoughts. “We all say things we don’t mean, but all you can do is apologize for it and allow yourself to grow from it.”

“You say that like you have experience from it.”

“Well, I’ve been around someone I love long enough to understand that these things happen. It gets the best of everyone, whether it be a parent, friend, lover..”

Marinette nodded, “I guess so. But, what if they don’t forgive you?”

“You just have to give them time,” he replied with a soft smile. “In the end, that’s all what it’s about, right? How much time you take to apologize and how long it will take for them to heal.”

“You’re right.” She responded, glancing at the sky again where the moon sat beautifully. “It can never be too late, right?”

“Never.”

Chat Noir stared at her with a smile and she felt herself under his gaze and placed her focus on her noodles twirling around her fork. His eyes soon left her and went back to his own plate  of noodles. Marinette and Chat sat quietly together until their plates emptied. She watched him rinse the plate in her sink before placing it down and drying his own hands.

“Well, I should be heading out. I still have another area to cover.”

Marinette didn’t allow herself to look disappointed as she set her bowl down beside her. She jumped off the counter, her long hair bouncing with her.

“Thank you for stopping by,” she said. “And thanks for the advice.”

Chat Noir winked, “You can count on me, Marinette! But I hope you take the advice.”

“You can count on me.” Marinette repeated back with a wink.

The feline laughed before he jumped from the window and went out into the dark of Paris, leaving Marinette on her own. She cleaned the pots, pans, and plates before heading back into her room. She found her phone again, scrolling through her contacts. Her heart hammered in her chest, wishing she would have done this sooner.

But, this was the first step.The name she needed popped up with an old picture of the blonde boy beside the name and she pressed the texting bubble, her fingers hovered over the keyboard. You can do this Marinette. It’s never too late. She took a deep breath and began to type.

Hey, I know it’s been awhile..

[twistedtummies2]

Descending From the Sky - Part 1 (500 Followers Special)

IN CELEBRATION OF 500 FOLLOWERS...! (freezes as someone whispers in my ear) ...Eh? You...say I have 509 now? ...Frick. WELL, BETTER LATE THAN NEVER! Something a lot of people have wanted me to write - on this site as well as an alternate site I frequent - is a “rampage story.” You know the type: macro-sized predator goes stomping around eating people and causing destruction in their wake. I have several ideas for such tales, though most of them are still in the “pre-production” stages.  I decided to go with the one that could offer me the clearest possible plot, and which I know a few people were hoping to see: this is the third chapter in my Giant AU for My Hero Academia, based on Jack and the Beanstalk. In the past two sections, Midoriya and Kaminari went up to see the Giants. THIS time, however, one of the giants comes down to Earth themselves.  I mustn’t say more though, or I shall spoil the fun. This is a two-parter; part two will be up tomorrow. As is typical, this first section is mostly just expository stuff and...well...actual STORY than anything else. Most of the “fun stuff” will be in tomorrow’s second half. Keeping this in mind, I hope you all enjoy, and thank you for the support!

---------------------------------------------------------------

Three months had passed since Izuku Midoriya and Denki Kaminari had descended from the beanstalk with the Golden Eggs.

The result of their fortunate adventures were plainly visible: the farm where they both lived had become far more prosperous. The fields had been able to widen, as their master, Aizawa, had been able to hire new farmhands, buy new equipment, and even purchase a new cow for milking! (Although Izuku couldn’t help but notice how much whiter Milky White’s output had always been.) The farmhouse had been repaired, and plans were in motion to construct a larger building, all while a second barn was being built to house all the new supplies. Over all of this rising splendor towered the magnificent beanstalk...and on the unusually hot morning where our story begins, the boys were very glad about that. Kaminari sighed as he paused in his work, wiping his brow with a spotted handkerchief before stuffing it back into his pocket. Though the boys could afford nice clothes, they usually wore their old peasant garb while working After all, there was no point in ruining the good stuff. “Y’know something, Midoriya?” he mumbled out, looking up. Midoriya paused, putting down his hammer and looking down at Kaminari. His expression was wide-eyed and attentive. Kaminari huffed, leaning against the side of the shed the two were in the process of building. “Life doesn’t make sense sometimes.” “Yeah, that’s a fact,” Midoriya said, with a small smile, and chuckled, turning his freckled face back towards his work. He was standing on a ladder and tapping nails into place to hold the roof boards. Kaminari was holding the nails in a jar, and passing them up, and was supposed to be holding the ladder. In that moment, however, the distracted blonde was more focused on the jar, biting his lip as he stirred the nails boredly. The pair had been alternating positions every couple of boards, since, obviously, it was a lot more work to hammer than to hold. Not that the heat made either of the stations particularly fun. Kaminari tried to get a bit of shade from the side of the shed, but as the Sun was facing in the wrong direction, there was no shade to be had. “What I mean is,” Denki went on, “I thought all this extra stuff would make our lives easier: a little less of a workload on us. Instead, it feels like we haven’t a chance to just...you know...breathe.” “I know,” Midoriya murmured, pausing in his work and dipping his head. “Nor a chance to visit our friends ‘upstairs.’” “Friend. Singular,” Kaminari corrected. “Unless you count that mean man-eater as a friend…” Both of the teens shuddered, and Kaminari even crossed himself. Midoriya shook his head and refocused on hammering as Kaminari passed up another nail, and made sure to grab hold of the ladder with one hand. He didn’t want Midoriya to fall over. For one thing, it would be kind of embarrassing if either of them broke an arm falling from a ladder after managing to climb up and down a mammoth beanstalk and never tumble once.

“Mr. Aizawa says that after this is built, we should be able to rest a bit,” Midoriya said, with a bright-eyed smile that made his green irises look like emeralds. “Maybe we’ll get to go back up there in a couple weeks.”

“Maybe,” murmured Kaminari, and frowned. “Hey, do you think he’s giving us extra work to keep us from going up there?” Midoriya frowned and turned carefully on the ladder, looking to the beanstalk, then looking over the farmland...and shook his head again, this time in disagreement. “No,” he answered, and continued hammering; the boards were hard and the nails long. “With everything going on, I think we can give him the benefit of the doubt there. There’s just...so much expansion, with all the buying and selling we’ve been doing…” “I’m glad he let us keep those Golden Eggs!” grinned Kaminari. “They look cool in the bedroom.” Midoriya nodded wordlessly in agreement, and began to descend the ladder. It was Kaminari’s turn to take care of the next few boards-and-nails. “We’ll get back there soon,” he said. “Things just have to get harder before they get easier.” “That’s one way of looking at it,” shrugged Kaminari, giving Midoriya the nail jar as he took the hammer. He bit his lip and looked off to the side. Midoriya tilted his head, concerned by the unhappy expression on his friend’s face. “Hey...something else wrong?” he asked. “Just...when I went up there last time…” Kaminari trailed off...took a breath...and shook his head. “Never mind,” he said, and smiled. “Let’s just get back to work. The faster we finish, the faster we can get inside where it’s cool.” Midoriya looked skeptical, but before he could answer, a voice interrupted the pair… “It’s going to take a little longer than expected to do that.” The boys looked up. The baggy-eyed figure of Aizawa was approaching the pair. The teens stiffened, almost as if standing at attention. “Good morning, Master!” they chorused, as if speaking to a drill sergeant. Aizawa rolled his eyes and made a grumpy sound. He made a lot of those. “Relax, you’re not in trouble. Yet,” he mumbled, then went on a bit more clearly: “I need you two to stop work on the shed today. There’s another job for you both now.” The teens looked at each other, then back to the head farmer. “Um...no offense, sir,” Midoriya spoke up, and sounded sincerely polite and curious as he spoke, “But why not get one of the others to do it?” “Or do it yourself?” suggested Kaminari, in the same tone. Neither sounded defiant, just a little confused. Aizawa crossed his arms and sighed through his nose, looking out over the farmland, watching the new helpers hoe and shovel and rake away… “I have to stay,” he said, simply and strictly. “And as for the rest of the farmhands…” He looked back to the pair somewhat earnestly. “...I trust you both more than most of them.” The two boys practically had stars in their eyes. “You...you trust us?” peeped Midoriya. “Really?” Kaminari gasped. Aizawa narrowed his eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head,” he droned, drably. “I trust Mineta more than you both, and he’s a donkey. And I trust my dog more than I trust him.” The pair ducked their heads with nervous, bashful smiles. Kaminari scratched the back of his head, kicking an imaginary pebble, while Midoriya rubbed one arm, trying to look anywhere but into Aizawa’s face. Aizawa rolled his eyes and then cleared his throat. “Ahem...the new help has loaded the wagon with produce to take to market,” he informed the pair. “Change clothes and hitch the horse up, then take it all. And this time, PLEASE don’t try to trade anything on the way for Magic Beans. One big green liability is enough.” He looked to Midoriya pointedly with those words. Midoriya gulped guiltily. “We’ll do our best, Master,” Kaminari promised, and slung an arm around Midoriya as he gave a cocky grin. “Just leave it to us! We’ll come back with more money than you can shake a stick at! Although I don’t know why you’d want to…” Aizawa just made another grumpy sort of sound and paused before going on… “Mind your way through the forest. Don’t stray from the path. Keep the cart moving on its course: some of the new boys have said they’ve encountered robbers in the woods, ever since…” He pointed up towards the clouds indicatively. “We’ll be careful, Mr. Aizawa,” vowed Midoriya, then looked to Kaminari. “C’mon, let’s get moving!” The duo folded up the ladder, and darted off to put away their tools before getting ready for the journey to market. Aizawa watched them go, then looked back to the partially finished shed, then turned his gaze heavenward. He glared as he looked at the top of the beanstalk...or, at least, the furthest point he could see, as it disappeared beyond the blue sky’s crest. He shook his head and pinched his brow as he walked off to see about feeding the chickens. “This place has never been the same,” he whispered. “I wouldn’t mind so much if I could decide if that was good or bad…”

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Meanwhile, in the Land of the Giants… “Sure you’ll be okay while I’m gone?” The red-haired, fang-toothed giant known as Kirishima looked with concern to his friend. His fellow titan, Bakugou, narrowed his own crimson eyes, a sour expression on his face as he lounged on a sofa in their living room. “Hell’s that s’posed to mean?” he sneered. “What do you think’s gonna happen while I’m here?” Kirishima opened his mouth to answer...then closed it again. “...Never mind,” he shrugged, and gave a cheerful smile as he slung the leather backpack over his back. “Anyway, I better get going. Tamaki’s probably gonna get all anxious if I’m late; start thinking if I still wanna be his friend, and so on…” “Tch,” Bakugou scoffed, and took a sip of the coffee he held in his hand. “How come you hang out with that wuss anyway? He’s softer than you are!” “Hey, you can’t pick your friends!” “Yes, you can,” droned Bakugou, boredly. “It’s family. You can’t pick your family.” “That, too.” Bakugou blinked slowly, his expression tremendously dull as he took another drink. “Whatever. It’ll be nice to not have your dumb hair poisoning my vision,” he grumbled. “Yeah, I’ll miss you, too,” Kirishima chuckled. Bakugou just grunted, taking yet another drink. He licked his lips thinly as Kirishima tilted his head. “Hey...you certain you’re alright?” “What makes you think I’m not?” “I dunno...just...you’ve been a lot quieter lately. And you haven’t gone down to mess with the little guys in a couple of months. Not that I mind that at all…” He grinned. “Am I rubbing off on you a little, maybe?” “Dream on. I just haven’t had an appetite for ‘em.” “Uh-huh. Sure,” Kirishima mumbled, sounded unconvinced, and gave a smile. “Well...anyway, I’ll be back by tomorrow. Guard the house well!” “The fuck do you mean ‘guard the house well’?!” snapped Bakugou, barking out his annoyance. “DO I LOOK LIKE A DAMN GUARD DOG TO YOU?!” Kirishima sniggered, and responded with a jaunty mock-salute. Whistling merrily, the friendly giant thus left the house. Bakugou growled (ironically sounding VERY much like an angry guard dog), his fingers twitching around his coffee cup as he finished his drink. He stifled a burp in his ballooning cheeks - “HHHMMMRRRLLLRRRPH...grm…” - and swallowed the excess gas back down, thumping his bare chest with a beefy fist before rising to his feet. The Barbarian-garbed colossus then tromped back to the kitchen, cleaning his cup and putting it aside to drain and dry. In truth, there was something on Bakugou’s mind. Something that had been buzzing around in his brain for months, and had become increasingly more annoying. I climbed a beanstalk to the top of the sky...I befriended a giant, was able to hide from another...and I was able to make my whole village happy, and even the king...do you think anyone who’s ‘just meat’ could even think of all that? The giant ground his teeth together, fingers twitching again. “Worthless little runt,” he growled to himself. “What does he know?” The little one Kirishima called “Midoriya” wouldn’t leave his mind. He kept trying to force the small one’s words aside, but the pathetic rat wouldn’t get out of his head. It was starting to drive the titan insane. He’d spent his whole life eating humans. He was bigger, stronger, faster, and all around better than they were. It was the law of the jungle: they were SUPPOSED to fill his belly. It was just their fault they were so small and tasty! That’s how he’d always justified it. That’s how he’d always felt about it. And it wasn’t as if he ate indiscriminately. But now… Someones gotta knock some sense into you, Bakugou! You can’t just eat people, it’s...it’s not right! And if one of my friends is in danger...I’ve got to do whatever I can to help them! No matter what! Bakugou snarled, clenching his fists at his sides. The little vermin had guts. What he wouldn’t give to introduce them to HIS guts... Still...he hadn’t been down to eat in months now...and the truth was, what he’d told Kirishima was true. He just...hadn’t been in the mood to eat little people in a while. It was really starting to piss him off, because this had never happened before. They were his FAVORITE food...so what was holding him back? GRRROOORRRLLLB… Bakugou winced and hissed through his teeth, clapping a hand to his belly. His fingers rubbed over his bare, strong, well-sculpted abs as his stomach gurgled and “brumbled” noisily. So far, all he he’d had that morning was coffee. It seemed his gut was demanding something more substantial. For a moment, the thought of dozens of squirming little morsels flashed in his mind...but he shook that thought away with a toss of his messy blonde locks, and instead relaxed slightly as he stomped towards the icebox. “Something light oughta kill those damn noises,” he muttered coarsely. “Where’d I put those cold cuts…?”

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The wagon full of pumpkins, apples, cucumbers, potatoes, corn, and all sorts of other home-grown delights rattled along the semi-level road that twisted and twined its way through the forest. Kaminari sat beside Midoriya, who held the reins, while an old gray mare hauled the cart along at a steady trot. “Easy there, Chiyo,” Midoriya smiled gently, as the horse huffed softly, ears flicking at a noise from somewhere in the underbrush. “Just a jackrabbit.” “Hopefully,” mumbled Kaminari, then cocked his head to the left. “Say, Midoriya? Do you think we’ll run into that Yagi guy who gave you the Magic Beans?” “I doubt it,” Izuku said wistfully. “I get the feeling that was a one-time deal, or something.” “Hm. Got it,” Kaminari grunted, looking away again, a somewhat pensive, pondering look on his face. Midoriya’s smile faded. “Kaminari...seriously, what’s been bothering you?” “What do you mean?” “You’re thinking. A lot. That’s...very unusual for you.” “Hey. Thinking is dangerous. It can lead to headaches.” Midoriya smirked and chuckled, then paused, pulling the horse to a stop. “Come on,” he said, gently, placing the reins at his side nad putting a hand on Kaminari’s shoulder. “What’s wrong? Tell me.” Kaminari squirmed a bit uncomfortably. “We should keep going,” he said, quietly. “Aizawa said there were-” “We’ll be fine. Talk to me. We’re friends, right?” “Right...well, um...it’s just…” Kaminari took a deep breath, and let it out before speaking. “...I’ve felt...really bad ever since I went up the beanstalk.” “Bad as in sick?” “No, just...bad. Emotionally. I really messed things up, and I almost got killed for it. I was being greedy and stubborn and selfish, and...look, I still love money-” “And girls.” “Well, duh, girls are what make life worth living, and money helps there.” Midoriya sighed and rolled his eyes, still smiling. “But seriously,” Kaminari went on, shifting his position so he could look Midoriya in the face, “What I did was wrong and...well...kinda stupid, even for me. I wanna make up for it somehow, just...I don’t really know what to do. And with all the time that’s gone by-” “I forgive you.” Kaminari stopped short. “I forgive you,” Midoriya said, his smile gentle and friendly. “And I know Kirishima forgives you, too. If it makes you feel so bad, we’ll find a way to go up there and see if you can do something more. I wanna go back up there just as much as you do. But work’s gotta come first.” “Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” Kaminari sighed...then smirked, and adopted a dramatic pose, pointing forward. “Well...drive on, my good man!” Midoriya snickered at Kaminari’s over-the-top impression of a pompous nobleman. “Yes, My Lord,” he winked, and whipped the reins, clicking and calling out Chiyo’s name. Chiyo let out a soft whinny and began to move forward again. Kaminari paused to adjust his clothes: both he and Midoriya were dressed in sharp-looking coats and breeches, so they could look more presentable at the market. “Yellow and black are good colors,” smirked Kaminari, admiring the golden lining of his jacket. He grinned somewhat sneakily. “Hey, think I’ll impress a few ladies while we’re out?” Midoriya was about to respond...but before he could - and after the pair had only traveled about twenty or thirty yards - Chiyo suddenly let out a sharp cry and came to an equally sharp stop. “Whoa, whoa, girl!” called out Midoriya, and as the horse settled, he and Kaminari frowned and stood up in the wagon to see what was the matter. The pair were surprised by what they saw: a small girl, dressed in a somewhat ratty-looking white dress. She had metallic-colored hair, almost the color of steel, and red eyes that looked like a couple of fresh, ripe cherries. The girl was trembling slightly. Her eyes were wide and unblinking as she stared up at the pair. She didn’t move off the path, even as she stood. The two teens looked to each other, then back to the girl, and smiled. “Hello there!” Midoriya said kindly, and stepped down from the cart, while Kaminari stayed aboard and took the reins, just in case the old mare got a bit fidgety. The girl didn’t answer. She stayed still as Midoriya approached. His smile remained gentle and good-natured as he got down on one knee, bringing himself to the little girl’s height. “What is your name, little girl?” he asked, sweetly. The girl paused, blinking just once, before answering in a plaintive, soft voice: “Eri.” “Eri,” repeated Midoriya. “That’s a nice name.” He looked back to the wagon. “Don’t you think so, Kaminari?” “Oh, yeah. Short but pretty,” Denki nodded. Midoriya smiled a little wider, and looked back to Eri. “What are you doing out here, Eri?” he asked, carefully, and looked about with some small amount of worry. “Are your parents around?” Eri bit her lip and squirmed where she stood, looking away and hugging herself. “My...my papa needs help,” she admitted quietly, sounding almost ashamed of the words. “I...I heard your cart coming, and...c-could you...could you help me?” Midoriya frowned with concern. “Of course we’ll help,” he promised sincerely, and looked back to Kaminari. “Stay here with Chiyo and the market goods. I’m gonna see what’s going on, then we can figure out what to do.” “Gotcha,” Kaminari nodded. “Be quick though.” “I’ll try,” Midoriya said, then looked back to Eri with another kind, sweet smile. “C’mon, Eri...let’s go, okay?” He extended a hand...and to his surprised, Eri stepped back, letting out a tiny, timid whimper, as if she expected to be hit. Midoriya looked at his palm, then up at the little girl. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “I won’t hurt you. Just...take my hand, and tell me where to go. Alright?” Eri blinked a few times, looking between Midoriya’s face and his hand...then, her own tiny, trembling fingers clasped about his. Midoriya smiled and stood up, holding firmly but carefully onto the young lady as she led him off the path into the forest. Kaminari, for his part, watched them go. Once they were out of sight, he reached into the cart and picked out a juicy yellow apple. No reason he couldn’t have a snack while he waited: there was plenty in the cart to sell at market, anyway. He checked the surrounding trees as he took a crunching bite from the fruit. He made sure to be alert; he didn’t want to make any mistakes. After all, if Aizawa was right, it wouldn’t be a good idea to let their guard down in the forest… While Kaminari dutifully and calmly guarded the wagon, Eri led Midoriya deeper and deeper into the untouched woods, away from the road. Midoriya looked back and frowned; the cart disappeared from sight behind him. “How far away is your father, Eri?” he asked. “And what happened to him?” Eri bit her lip, and paused, keeping her head down. As they stopped, Midoriya looked to her with concern. “Eri?” he checked, quietly. “Please answer me.” Eri let out a whimper...and, without warning, pulled her hand away from Midoriya’s, as if his touch burned her. He stepped back with some alarm as her tiny, frail shoulders began to shake. He could hear her starting to cry. “...You’re nice,” she said very, very softly. “No one...no one has been nice to me...in such a long time…” She gulped and looked up to the teen with misty eyes. “I’m so sorry.” No sooner had Eri uttered the words...then suddenly, someone leapt out from the bushes behind Midoriya and grabbed hold of him. Midoriya gasped and whirled to try and fight back...but another figure lunged from behind a tree and grabbed hold of his other arm. Izuku’s eyes widened: both of his attackers were strapping, masculine figures, dressed in long black robes, with plague doctor’s masks upon their faces. “Wh-What is this?!” he shouted, and struggled to break free. “Let...LET GO OF ME!” “Good work, Eri.” Midoriya froze as he heard the words...and his eyes widened as a third figure stepped out from behind another tree, moving over to Eri’s side. They placed a dark-gloved hand on the girl’s shoulder; she whined like a kicked puppy and shuddered, clearly repulsed but unwilling to move away from the figure’s touch. This figure wore a long green coat, lined with unusual violet fur. He, too, wore a plague doctor’s mask...but this one was not the plain ivory visage the two strikers wore. His was decorated in red and gold, and covered only everything below his eyes. The golden eyes in question narrowed, a supercilious gleam in them. “Very good work, my daughter,” the voice behind the mask intoned. “Thank you for helping us, Izuku Midoriya. We have much to discuss.” The figure then pointed off in another direction, and uttered one command to the two cloaked men: “Take him!” “KAMINARI!” Midoriya yelled at the top of his lungs, struggling harder as one of the two attackers pulled a short club out of their robes. “KAMINARI! KAMINAR-!” WHACK! The world became fuzzy and filled with plain. Midoriya’s voice slurred unhealthily. “...K-Kamin-ar-i…” WHACK! Izuku knew no more. However, his cries had not gone unheard. Kaminari jolted as he heard Midoriya call to him with what sounded like real panic, the apple dropping from his hands and rolling across the dirt. It stopped right in front of the gray mare, who, thinking it was a treat, nibbled it happily. It was a lucky thing the apple distracted the horse, because the moment Kaminari heard the calls stop just as suddenly as they had come, he was on the move. He bounced off the wagon and bounded into the woods, calling back as he ran in the direction he’d seen Eri taking Midoriya. “MIDORIYA! MIDORIYA, I’M COMING!” Naturally, he was too late. Kaminari skidded to a halt, his expression horror struck, as he saw a second wagon not so far ahead...but this was no produce cart drawn by a farmer’s horse. Instead, it was a prison wagon, a cage-cart drawn by two black horses. He saw the driver’s plague doctor mask glint in the sunlight, and heard them laugh jeeringly as they whipped the horses up...then, the wagon rolled out of sight. Just before it disappeared, he caught sight of Midoriya, slumped over in the prisoner’s cage...alongside Eri and another figure he couldn’t rightly make out. Once it was gone, Kaminari stood stock still for several seconds, processing with dread what he had just witnessed...then, cursing under his breath, he dashed back through the woods to his own cart. Chiyo had just finished her apple, and let out a startled sound as the blonde-haired, yellow-eyed youth leapt back into the driver’s seat, tugging and cracking the reins. “C’mon, old girl!” he shouted. “We have to get back to the farm! This is an emergency!” The horse neighed, and the cart was soon turned around. Then, with another crack and a click, Kaminari rode the rattling wagon back down the road towards Aizawa’s farm as fast as he could…

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“Kidnapped?!” “Yeah!” Kaminari confirmed, emphatically. “I saw it happen, Mr. Aizawa! They were riding off with him; I couldn’t hope to catch up in time!” Aizawa grinded his teeth; a look of intense worry burned in his eyes. “Which way were they going?” he demanded, standing up from his desk in the room Kaminari had found him in. “South? West?” “East,” Kaminari replied. “Due East, no doubt of it.” “And you said the driver of the cart wore a plague doctor’s mask?” “Yes, sir!” Aizawa sighed. “There’s no doubt of it then,” he murmured, in an ominous tone of mortal dread. “He’s being taken to Yakuza.” Kaminari gulped nervously. Everyone in the Kingdom of Ua knew about Yakuza: it was one of two neighboring kingdoms, which had been feuding with the land for years on end. It was ruled by the evil King Kai; its armies were ruthless, and its defenses plentiful. While outright war had not been done in many years, relations between the kingdoms were still intensely...well...tense, to say the least. No one in Ua ever went to Yakuza...and lived to tell about it. “Wh-why would they take Midoriya?” Kaminari almost whimpered. “I can make a few guesses,” growled Aizawa curtly, as he dressed himself in his best hat and coat and looked to Kaminari. “I’m going to to take the new stallion to the castle. I have friends among the King’s Knights, they might be able to help us.” “I’ll go with you!” “No,” ordered Aizawa. “You stay here. I already have one of you in danger. I’m not getting you into any more trouble, and I don’t want you causing it, either.” “But I want to help!” “I know,” sighed Aizawa. “But this is no time for rash action!” “This is the PERFECT time for rash action!” Kaminari almost screamed out. “They took Izuku, and who knows what they’re gonna-?!” He stopped short at a burning, searing glare from Aizawa. He ducked his head and looked away. “...I’m...I’m sorry…” “Stay. Here,” Aizawa commanded, then added more softly, “Please.” Kaminari said nothing, but remained where he was. Aizawa looked the blonde haired boy over a time or two...then sighed again and shook his head, before hustling out of the house. There wasn’t a moment to lose. For a time, Kaminari stayed perfectly still where he stood. He listened. He waited. And the instant he heard the sound of Aizawa whistling to his horse, and the sound of the horse hooves galloping off into the distance...his eyes lifted. He looked to the beanstalk outside...and then moved to Aizawa’s desk. He hastily pulled out a small piece of parchment, and scribbled a message onto it. You said to leave you a note next time, the message read. I’m sorry, Master. I have to help my friend. I have to make up for my mistakes. Signed, Kaminari. With this managed, Kaminari clambered out of the open window, and crept towards the mighty beanstalk. He glanced from side to side, to make sure no one was looking...then, without another thought, he latched onto its based, grabbed hold of its stems and leaves...and began, once more, the long climb up...Up...UP…

“I’ll save you, Midoriya,” he promised, as he soon climbed up past the roof of the house, and kept right on climbing. “I’ll save you...one way or another…”

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“UUUURRRRRRRROOOORRRRRPH...mph...weak…” Bakugou snorted as he lounged back on the couch in the den of his and Kirishima’s home. His stomach was ever so slightly distended; just enough to make the strong, deep crevices between his six-pack muscles a little less well-defined, a clear but very small curve of fullness along his middle. One of his hands was resting upon his gut, covering his deep, black navel. He didn’t rub his stomach, didn’t scratch it...simply let his hand rest there, the limb rising and falling as his gut moved with his breathing. The ogre’s other arm was slung behind his messy-haired head as he glared with his usual, grouchy scowl at the ceiling, red eyes smoldering as he seemed to look through the ceiling itself...thinking and thinking. The (relatively) light meal he’d enjoyed left a pleasant warmth in his belly...but was not truly full yet. It barely made the slightest dent in his gut, and he knew he could fit more. But nothing around the house seemed to his satisfaction...and he had a feeling he knew what he wanted. What was stopping him? He knew what his stomach desired. He’d never denied it before. So why was he purposefully avoiding it now? He couldn’t even blame his appetite: he clearly wanted it, so what was holding him back? He didn’t know. This was...annoying. “Pissing me off,” he all but hissed to himself, fingers curling over his bare belly and twitching slightly with his ever-present anger. “Damn that little snack-rat...how’d that little fucker get inside my head anyhow…” He growled and shook his head, trying to push away the thoughts and the ever-repeating words. But they wouldn’t go away. He covered his ears, snarling and pulling at his hair. “Die, you stupid thoughts!” he snapped, trying to think of a way to force them out of his mind. He couldn’t take this much more…! He froze in the middle of his thoughts. His eyes widened as his ears pricked up. The giant listened closely. He could have sworn...he’d heard the scampering of tiny feet. He sniffed the air...and growled again, almost like a wild bear. “Fee, Fi, Fo-Fuck it. I don’t have time for this shit…” The giant swung himself out of his seat and onto the floor...but he didn’t stomp his way towards the source of the sound and scent. Instead, he cautiously began to prowl towards it, moving almost like a giant cat. He was fairly certain the little rat hadn’t realized he was around, and he wanted to keep it that way… The giant tip-toed out of the living room and towards the main hall. He peered around the corner, and his red eyes widened at what he saw. He looked both surprised and angry at the same time. Creeping across the floor was a familiar little fellow - no bigger than a mouse, compared to the man-eating man-mountain - with yellow hair and matching eyes. He nervously moved across the floor, peering from side to side and looking all around. “Kirishima?” he called out. “Hello? Is anybody home?” “Yeah. Someone’s home, little snack.” Kaminari jumped...then squealed with fright as he saw Bakugou step out from hiding. The giant’s teeth were bared in a vicious snarl, his fists clenched and visibly shaking. With a comical holler, Kaminari flailed and turned around, trying to make a mad dash back the way he had come… “COME BACK HERE, RAT!” Katsuki roared. “I’LL KILL YOU!” “That’s not a good incentive for me to come back!” Kaminari called back. Bakugou just let out a wordless shout of anger, and lumbered forward. In three long, strong strides, he moved in front of Kaminari. Kaminari skidded to a halt as the Giant glared and lifted one massive boot over him... “DIE, RUNT!” “YIPE!” Kaminari barely had time to scramble out of the way before the giant’s foot slammed into the floor. THOOM! Denki stumbled as the floor shook with the force of the stomp. He hit the floor was was briefly winded...and barely had time to lift a hand in a pleading gesture, a futile attempt to stop the inevitable, as Bakugou’s own giant fingers came swooping down towards him and snatched him. Kaminari cried out as he was hoisted into the air; vertigo hit him in an instant, and he felt woozy...but only for a second or two. He had much worse things to worry about as he was soon held up to the giant’s face. “What are you doin’ back here?” sneered Bakugou. “I...I was lookin’ for-GACK!” Kaminari choked and gasped as Bakuguou gave him a squeeze. His ribs felt nearly ready to cave in, and his spine creaked forebodingly. “I don’t give a damn,” Katsuki snorted, then smirked. “Guess it’s my luck you decided to try and rob us again. This time...you’re not goin’ home, runt.” Kaminari let out a terrified moan as Bakugou licked his lips. “I haven’t had a human to eat in months,” the ogre rumbled, his free hand rubbing his belly up and down. “Now, I’ll finally get a small taste again...thanks for comin’ to me, meat.” So saying, Bakugou closed his eyes and opened his jaws. Kaminari cried out as he was brought closer to the stinking hot maw of the man-eating monster, the tongue twitching as the teeth parted to reveal the slimy chasm of pink, soft flesh that would consume him. “W-Wait...WAIT, JUST A MINUTE! WAIT, PLEASE!” Kaminari yowled as the mouth loomed closer and closer, and he struggled in the giant’s grip. “I DIDN’T COME HERE TO STEAL, I PROMISE! PLEASE!” Bakugou stopped. His eyes opened...and he pulled Kaminari away from his jaws, closing them and glaring at the small morsel. “You’re...not here to steal?” he repeated, skeptically. Kaminari - relieved to be away from that mouth and the odor of digesting meat that came from it - sighed and nodded in confirmation. Bakugou glared darkly. “Why should I believe you?” “Um...b-because it’s true?” Kaminari eeped out. Bakugou’s glare did not soften. “Listen,” Kaminari said, and took a breath to steady himself before going on, still wiggling to try and find some semblance of comfort between the boa constrictors that were Bakugou’s mighty digits. “L-Listen, I...I’m sorry. For what I did last time. I know it was wrong, a-and I won’t do it again.” “Apology not accepted,” sneered Bakugou. “And if that’s all you’ve got, I’m eating you.” “It’s not, it’s not!” exclaimed Kaminari, desperately. “Please...wh-where’s Kirishima? I need his help!” “Stupid hair’s not here. He won’t be back till tomorrow,” shrugged Bakugou, carelessly. Kaminari looked mortified. “But...but...oh, no...now what do I do?” the human worried, speaking more to himself than the giant. “By tomorrow...b-by tomorrow, he could be dead…” Bakugou looked the tiny morsel up and down, and tilted his huge head curiously. “What do you need that extra’s help for, anyway?” he groused. “Midoriya. My friend. He’s been kidnapped.” Bakugou’s eyes widened anew. “Kidnapped?” he repeated, voice soft and somewhat shaky. “Yeah,” Kaminari nodded, his expression dour. “He...he was tricked…a-and a bunch of creeps from a rival kingdom took him away. I...I was too late to stop them. I though...maybe Kirishima could...you know...help me rescue him. Being a giant and all. But...without his help…” “Without his help, you’ll be better off,” snorted Bakugou. “Where is this kingdom?” Kaminari looked up, seemingly stunned. “Wait...you mean...YOU’LL help me?” “Psh. Don’t think of it as me helping you. I’m just helping myself,” Bakugou snorted, and smirked cruelly as he jabbed his free thumb to his chest, head held high. “No one’s gonna kill that green-haired, worthless idiot except ME. Besides, I’ve been on a ‘diet’ recently, you might say…” He licked his teeth as his stomach let out an excited burbling noise. “...I think it’s time I broke it. So...where do I need to go to eat?” Kaminari gulped nervously. “Um...uh...y-you need to go due east, f-from our home. I...I can point the way if you...um...maybe...p-promise not to eat me?” Kaminari smiled hopefully. Bakugou glared. “I don’t make promises to snacks,” he growled...then paused before going on, slowly: “Still...it’ll be hard to find the place without a guide...I guess I can let you live a little longer.” Kaminari sighed with even greater relief. “Thanks,” he breathed...then squeaked like a rodent as the giant quickly tucked him into his vest pocket. “Stay right there, and if you do anything stupid, I’ll squash you flat,” Bakugou grunted. “Now come on, snack. You’ve got another annoying bug to save…” He grinned viciously as he began to march out of the house. “...And I’ve got dinner waiting for me now. Heh heh heh…” Kaminari shuddered as he heard the giant smack his chops hungrily, and looked out over the white and blue landscape of the Kingdom Above the Clouds as his “ride” stepped out into the daylight and went on his way. “I hope I don’t live to regret this,” Denki murmured to himself. “Hang on tight, Midoriya...I’m coming…” “Ahem!” “Uh...oh, uh...w-we’re coming.” “Hmph. Better. Don’t make me regret not eating you…” “I’ll try...h-heh…”

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Izuku Midoriya groaned; a splitting headache greeted him as he opened his eyes. Breathing, itself, required great focus, which only made the throbbing, stinging pain in his cranium worse. Something prickled like nettles inside his nostrils - it smelled like ammonia - rousing him from the bleary, black haze he’d been in for some time. He could still feel the weight of the club against his skull, and hoped he didn’t have any lasting damage to worry about. Midoriya sneezed as the odor became stronger, and shook his head with a louder groan, trying to clear it and focus on the fuzzy, faded-out world around him. “That’s enough,” a voice grunted. “He’s coming to.” The scent went away, and that’s when Midoriya became aware of a few things. One, his hands and ankles were both bound with what felt like rough hemp cord. Two, a large wooden post or pole was against his back, his arms wrapped around it behind him. Three, as he shifted his bound feet he realized they brushed against splintery wood. Finally, vision and total awareness returned to him...and Midoriya felt a chill go up his spine. The location appeared to be a city square, a huge black castle not so far in the distance, and various buildings all around him. This, however, was no city square he’d encountered before...and the people around him were the most unsettling part of all. There were hundreds gathered all around him, and while many of them looked perfectly ordinary in dress and appearance...at least a third of them were wearing dark robes and bone-white plague doctor’s masks, thee black lenses blankly staring at Izuku upon the pyre he was stationed on. At the base of the pyre, Midoriya became aware of a flicker of flame. He looked down and gulped nervously: one of the Plague Doctors carried a torch. Beside him stood King Kai: his purple eyes peering over the crest of his ruby-and-gold mask, dressed still in his expensive-looking green and purple coat. Half-hidden behind the King was Eri, who was visibly shaking, eyes darting about to look anywhere except at Midoriya. Midoriya blinked at Eri...then looked up with a glare at King Kai. “Where am I?” he asked, bluntly. “Wh-What’s going on?” “Welcome to Shie, the capital city of Yakuza,” King Kai answered, and Midoriya could sense the smirk behind the mask. “I am-” “I know who you are,” Midoriya said, trying to sound as brave as he could, but unable to stop shaking. “What do you want with me?” Kai blinked slowly. “Why don’t you guess, filthy Uan?” he responded, his voice cold and cutting. Midoriya bit his lip. “In the past few months, the Beanstalk you grew has helped make your kingdom’s capital all the more prosperous,” Kai decided to explain, his voice business-like. “I would like to know how you were able to create such a thing, and where all the wealth came from.” “And why should I tell you that?” Kai narrowed his eyes, and with a slight motion of his head, the robed figure holding a torch stepped forward. Midoriya shuddered, but held up his head, straightening against the post as he glared defiantly. “Y-You can do what you want to me,” he said softly. “I’ll never tell you anything. If someone like you figured it out, who knows what you could do!” “I can already think of a few possibilities,” Kai said, coolly. “But I would recommend reconsidering. Burning to death is a TERRIBLE way to go. Trust me.” Midoriya’s defiant expression did not shift. “Please don’t hurt him…” Both Kai and Midoriya looked down at the furtive little voice that spoke. Kai’s eyes widened as he found Eri tugging on his pant leg. “Please...j-just let him go,” she pleaded. “H-He’s nice, he didn’t-AH!” Kai sneered as one of his minions struck the girl across the face, knocking her back. Kai checked his leg and sighed with relief when he saw nothing wrong. “Never touch me,” he said, in a soft, warning tone. “How often do I have to tell you, Eri? You. Do. Not. TOUCH ME.” Eri sniffled and whimpered, holding her cheek; a bright red mark was visible upon it. “Leave her alone!” snapped Midoriya. “She’s your daughter, isn’t she?” “She’s useful on occasion,” Kai answered, in the same icy tone as before. “But she’s very undisciplined. A father is supposed to discipline his child when they misbehave, yes?” Midoriya looked ill. He looked to Eri with sympathy. “Are you okay?” he asked, gently. Eri blinked, clearly not sure how to respond to the question under the circumstances. “She is far from your concern,” Kai intruded. “I’ll ask again: will you tell us where you got those so-called Magic Beans that brought that stalk to fruition? This is your last chance.” Midoriya struggled against his bonds for a moment, but the knots were strong and taut. He heard several in the crowd snicker. Sighing in defeat, he glared at Kai, who stared up patiently. “Even if I knew where you could find them,” he said, firmly, “I would never tell you.” “Very well,” shrugged King Kai. “In that case, you are of no use to me.” He held out a hand, twitching his fingers in a beckoning gesture. The minion holding the torch handed it over. Kai then turned to address the crowd. “Citizens of Yakuza!” he thundered. “The enemy agent has refused to tell us the secret of the Magic Beanstalk. Today, we burn him, and purge his sorry existence from our clean and well-ordered society. Tomorrow, we shall treat those who live on his farm the same way...and then cut down the mighty beanstalk itself!” The crowd cheered, lifting their fists and shouting jeers at Midoriya. Kai smiled darkly behind his mask, amethyst eyes glittering maliciously as he turned back to Izuku. “Any last words?” Kai hissed. Midoriya blinked once...and gave his reply quickly. PHUT! Kai stumbled back...and his expression became one of livid horror as he felt the slimy substance on his cheek...felt his face burning, felt the hives itch and puff up… He glared with psychotic, feral fury at Midoriya, who smirked back with undying defiance after spitting in the evil king’s face. Kai snarled, and without further hesitation, hurled the torch onto the pyre. The kindling at the base of the pyre began to crackle and burn in an instant. Midoriya’s smile faded, and he began to struggle again. The crowd cheered louder than before, laughing and mocking Midoriya’s struggles as he fought for dear life. Smoke was wisping up, and growing rapidly in density...the fire would be burning fiercely in a very short while. If smoke inhalation didn’t kill him, the flames themselves would. Either way, it would be a lingering, painful demise. “HELP! HELP ME!” he called out, struggling to loosen the knots. Kai glared with triumphant anger as his robed minions taunted Midoriya by mockingly screaming for help, and the crowd pointed and hollered. “NO! NO, LET HIM GO! STOP!” Eri cried out, as two of the masked men held her back. “Perhaps you’ll scream out the answer while you burn, you diseased piece of trash,” sneered Kai. “If not...at least tomorrow we’ll make sure your family suffers the same fate.” Midoriya struggled harder in response, which made Kai chuckle. He crossed his arms, the dark king patiently watching the fire rise and the smoke billow, quickly growing into thicker and thicker curls of vapor...it wouldn’t be long before Midoriya began coughing and wheezing. He was going to enjoy every last second of this he thought, shuddering with revulsion as he touched the stinging portion of his face the boy had spat on. “Bring me my balm,” he muttered, looking towards one of his minions. “I need to-” THUMP-A-THUMP-A-THUMP… Kai froze...and the crowd soon went silent...as a huge, pounding sound echoed through the air. The ground began to tremble, and all across the city went very quiet, confused and frightened as the noise grew steadily louder, and the vibrations more intense… Midoriya blinked, and looked upwards, as did Eri and Kai and nearly everyone else gathered in the city square. Midoriya saw a huge, towering silhouette - at least as large as the castle itself - approaching the area… “Kirishima?” he whispered to himself hopefully, with an optimistic smile.

“A Giant!” exclaimed King Kai, and barked orders to some of his soldiers as he moved a few steps away from the pyre, the people of the city clutching each other, their chatter turning into frightened noises as the King shouted and cried out: “Get to the edges of the city! Fan out! Do everything in your power, but don’t let that...that THING pollute my capital!” The soldiers hurried to move, forgetting all about Midoriya, whose pyre still burned. Midoriya himself had almost forgotten, himself, given the circumstances.: the adventurous lad’s smile quickly faded into a look of confusion and fear as he realized the hair didn’t look like Kirishima’s...and as the giant moved closer and closer, and people in the city began to fretfully murmur, he soon saw the glare of two glowing red eyes. So like Kirishima’s, yet so unlike them. A flash of green and orange caught his eye...and that’s when Midoriya knew. “B-Bakugou?!”

To Be Continued...

[reinersbb]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 [𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫] Chapter Five- Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy PT.1

Chapter Five Part One of Forget

Orange, black, and purple plastic solo cups littered the dewy grass along with other miscellaneous speckles of trash- some cups still retaining remnants of alcohol. Only ten o'clock at night and there was already a headache of a cleanup worth of mess outside on the front lawn. There was no telling how much worse it would be on the inside where the heart and soul of the party was. But it's not like after-party cleanup would be your problem to deal with.

Carved jack-o-lanterns that were once originally placed along the long walkway leading up to the front door of the frat house were smashed and overturned. Stringy pumpkin guts and seeds clung to the porous pavement of the walkway, some of the pumpkin innards in the grass. A collection of large oak trees in the front lawn were decorated with ominous purple lights. The flickering light cascaded across the grass, bouncing off the glass of littered alcohol bottles.

As you transitioned onto the property from the bustling street of roaming party-goers from different frat homes all around, the music and shouts from within the home ahead of you seemed almost loud enough to shatter its' windows. The base of your heels clicked against the pavement out of excitement as you trailed up the property.

A gust of wind hit your overly exposed flesh, and a chill of excitement tickled your vertebrae. While you were pulling the silk robe you wore over your body to cover yourself, short wolf-whistles from a group of drunk party-goers who'd barely managed to stand up straight caught your attention. The intoxicated faces that wore skewed face paint waved to you, catcalling you, wanting nothing else but your attention, but, you ignored them and continued onto the covered porch. Anywhere away from the blabbering drunk so-and-so's who were floundering in the lawn is a place where you wanted to be.

The front door that belonged to the home was left completely open, and you couldn't tell if the people passing through were coming or going. But you pushed your way through and sure enough, you were finally inside and one with the chaos that was the Halloween party. You already knew that this party was more hectic than the last one you attended.

Spirits were high, and the energy emitting from the room you now stood in practically zapped you.

One look alone at the hoard of people around you had you wishing that you would've at least asked Ymir to cancel her late-night movie date with Historia so they could follow along with you tonight instead. You weren't sure if you could handle a party like this all by yourself.

Managing to shuffle away from the front door, you stood aside and reached for your phone that you'd been holding in your small purse. Taking a quick look around at all the flashy details of costumes, your eyes dug down at your phone screen.

Today 22:46 Hey Jean, I'm here...

Though it wasn't out of spite or pettiness, a handful of hours is how long you left Jean's messages on seen. You decided earlier in the day to take it upon yourself and show up and surprise him with your arrival instead of messaging beforehand so that way he wouldn't expect a thing.

After your message was sent, all you had to do was find Jean. Or he had to find you. Seemed simple enough, but with one look at the crowd, you knew it wouldn't be such an easy task to tackle. Even if Jean was nearby, how would you be able to pick him out of the crowd?

There were many, and if not all, people wearing costumes. Even if by chance you were to know tons of people, they'd be hardly recognizable to you. So trying to catch a face would be worthless.

A singular buzz from your phone had you checking your lock-screen within an instant. Sure enough, it was a response from Jean.

Jean: Where are you?

Just as you were about to start at your reply, the chat bubble from the receiving end disrupted you. But as you watched and waited, the chat bubbles disappeared without any further sign of reappearing.

Then somehow you heard Jean's voice shouting your name over the crowd.

But where?

You couldn't help but look like a maniac as you scanned your surroundings. You were trying to recall which direction you heard his tenor voice last when suddenly two large hands skewed your vision. Instantaneously your hands went flying upward, dropping your phone mid-process as you felt at his wrists as he stood close behind you.

You yelped a response, "Jean!"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Jean's hands lowered from your face, allowing you to see clearly once again. "Let me get that," you watched as his hand reached for your phone that was on the ground.

Jean fell into your line of sight as you turned on your heel to face him. Both of you went wide-eyed as both of you took each other in, examining each other's costume. Your phone that was now dangling at his fingertips was almost dropped for a second time out of Jean's surprise.

"Are you... a cowboy?" You managed to make the first remark.

Covering Jeans' head was a worn chocolate brown cowboy hat, along with a matching colored mid-thigh coat. His hair was tucked under the hat, only the ends of his hair billowing out. Though like always, the black studded earrings were still imprinted in both his earlobes. A red paisley bandana covered up the neck of his button-up shirt. Dark faded blue jeans covered his long legs and a large belt buckle hung at his hips. The cuffs of his jeans swamped worn down brown pointed boots. His cheeks seemed to be more defined while somehow his facial hair seemed to be darkened and unruly.

His ruggedness was hot.

Jean cleared his throat before attempting to speak with his best cowboy impressions, "you betcha', cowgirl." Jean paused for a beat, mainly to gather his words, "now, correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm assuming you're dressed as a playboy bunny?"

"Bingo. How do you like my costume? Historia and Ymir helped me come up with the idea."

Promptly, you corrected your bunny ears that'd been pushed out of place from his surprise attack. Jean silently raked your appearance in from head to toe, his tongue caught on his lip as if he were about to say something but he hesitated, almost like he was nervous. Even if he was nervous, he most certainly wouldn't let you know that.

Eventually, he gulped, and through his parted lips he spoke, "I- I like it, your costume puts mine to shame. Also, I think the colors red and black suit you well."

If it weren't for the off-put lighting of different color hues, you would've been able to notice the radiating peach glow on his cheeks.

"Thanks, your cowboy costume isn't so bad either," you teased, tipping the front of his hat down over his brow line. "That's payback for making me drop my phone."

Jean chuckled, lifting the hat from his head, allowing the locks of his hair to fall across his forehead aimlessly. His long fingers ran through his hair, pushing his amber strands back before setting the cowboy hat back on his head.

After the quick readjustment, Jean's eyes were on you, "by the way, thanks for showing up tonight."

"Oh, it's no big deal," you admitted when in reality you'd spent hours getting ready, regardless of how nonchalant you'd made your previous statement out to be.

In the back of your mind, you wanted to look good tonight since you knew Jean would be at the party. You didn't care about the technicalities or the thoughts and ideas people would make of you from your attire alone.  But you wouldn't admit it.

You were uncertain for how long you had been staring at Jean for, that and you were also uncertain of close the two of you were standing next to each other until you were randomly pushed from behind by a passerby. Jean of course caught ahold of you as you went stumbling forward. Jean helped stabilize your footing by holding onto your arms.

There was a scowl on his face as he stared off into the crowd, searching for the person who carelessly bumped into you. The disgruntled look on his face was hardly noticeable if you weren't paying enough attention, but sure enough, there was a scowl on his face.

"Are you okay?" Jean's eyes were back on you, "they didn't even stop to apologize to you."

"It's alright, Jean, it's not like I got hurt or anything, and they're probably too drunk to function."

"You know you're probably right," even though it seemed like he didn't want to give up that easily, Jean carefully took ahold of your wrist, "will you follow me?"

You attempted to speak over the blaring background noise, "okay, where are we going?"

Jean turned his head back for only a second so he could respond as he began to walk, "you'll see."

The next room the two of you entered wasn't as packed as the entrance of the house, but still as lively. A table with solo cups at either side was folded out and there were two teams tossing ping pong balls back and forth, taking a drink from the orange solo cups when directed. A hoard of people surrounded the table, but you managed to get a vision of the action.

"Beer pong?" You talked over the commotion, taking a glance at Jean before back at the table.

"Have you ever played before?"

"Back in high school, I've played a handful of times but I completely sucked at the game. I haven't won, not even a single time."

"Let's see if your luck has changed any and see if we can break that losing streak of yours," Jean finally released your wrist to go talk to a man who'd been standing near the game table.

The unknown man was dressed in black pants and a white and black striped shirt, like one of those burglars you see in children's cartoons. Under a black beanie, he had blond hair and was built, his well-toned muscles were flexed as his arms wrapped around his chest while talking with Jean. Next to the blond was a much taller man, who was even taller than Jean by at least two to three inches, who wore a similar costume as the blond.

"Hey! Are you a friend of Jean?" An alto-toned voice called out from your right as you felt a knuckle tap on your shoulder.

A tall man with a freckle-kissed face and chocolate brown eyes beamed at you, his expression was laced with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. His hair was parted and styled like a man from the eighties, and he wore a red puffer jacket over a denim jacket. Instantly you thought he was dressed as Marty McFly from Back To The Future.

"I guess you could say that, yes," you said, unsure if a straight yes or no would be correct.

"Okay, cool! I'm Marco, Jean's best friend. I haven't seen you around before, where did you guys meet?"

"I met him through my mutuals at a party last Saturday-" you paused for a beat, remembering the first actual encounter you had with Jean. "Actually, the first time I ever met him is when I quite literally ran into him. It was horrible, I spilled my latte and everything."

You'd have Jean pay you back for that latte one day, even if you were the one that barged into him. And that was a promise.

Just then, those chocolate brown eyes of his flashed for a split second. His thick eyebrows rose and fell and the corners of his lips struggled to keep from lifting into a knowing smirk.

"Before I forget to ask, what is your name?"

Whenever you told Marco your name, his eyes darted over towards Jean's direction then back at you. There was a weird expression on his face that you couldn't put your finger on, it almost seemed like he knew something that you didn't.

Your eyebrow lifted, "what's the matter, Marco?"

"Marco!" Jean finally reappeared from the beer pong table, almost standing in between you and Marco.

Jean glanced at you and back to Marco.

"Wait, what were you two talking about?" Jean shifted towards you slightly, a shadow falling across his brow from the cowboy hat he was wearing.

His defensive side caused suspicion to arise inside of you. Had he been hiding something from you?

"We-"

You'd attempted to speak, but Marco beat you to it, "nothing, Jean, I was just introducing myself to your friend."

Jean stared at Marco for a few seconds, like he was carefully reading the man with chocolate eyes.

Suddenly, there was a loud cheer, almost like an explosion from the table. Then there was a harsh whistle that zipped through the other commotion which caught Jean's attention entirely.

"Jean! Come on, you're up against me and Bert," the same man that Jean was talking to previously informed.

"Come on," Jean motioned for you to follow him, "let's get you that win."

Across from you stood the same two men who Jean had been talking to previously. Apparently, the blond's name was Reiner and the other went by Bert, or Berty, however, the blond cooed. While Marco stood off to the side of both you and Jean, loaning you his friendly support and cheering both of you on.

As the game commenced, Jean stood close beside you the whole time, giving you a few tips and tricks here and there to help sink the ball. You noted how nice it felt when he held onto your wrist one time to imitate a fake swish. Or how nice it felt when you actually sunk a ball into a cup and Jean would congratulate you by pulling your body against him into a side hug.

You felt at the top of the world, soaring all high and mighty. There was a slight buzz kicking in already from the cups of beer you had to drink, and Jean even decided to help you out with most of them by downing the liquid. He'd pluck the cup up from the table, and before dipping his head back, he'd glance at you with a knowing look with his intense eyes over the brim of the cup.

Your fingers accidentally laced with his momentarily as you high-fived one another after Jean scored your team another point. Soon after your mini celebration was cut short, Jean rolled his eyes whenever Reiner's ball bounced into your team's orange cup. Reluctantly his slender fingers grasped the brittle material and downed the beer.

With the back of his wrist, he wiped the corners of his mouth, "we just need to score the last cup," Jean placed a hand on your shoulder, his excited eyes staring into yours.

"What if I mess up?" You kept your eyes only on Jean.

"You won't."

With that, you sucked a breath in through your nose and exhaled steadily. The music was continuously bumping in the background while you rinsed off your ball in the discard cup. Your chest was thumping, and there was a ringing sensation beginning to sound.

The game was currently tied up. One to one. Reiner and Bert stood adjacent to you and Jean. Both men waved their hands in front of the cup as you aimed for the center.

Once the ball was tossed and in mid-air after its' first bounce, their hands ripped away, and almost as if it were playing in slow motion, the ball landed in the cup. The contents sloshing around slightly on impact as your ball sank into the depths of the plastic. Reiner sighed and plucked the ball out and drank the beer from the remaining cup you happened to score.

An eruption of emotions spilled out of you and everyone else around you. To your surprise, you felt Jean ease his arms around you, swiftly lifting you and spinning you in a victory hug. Naturally, you melted into Jean's touch as he held you up from the ground.

"We did it, Jean! Thank you so much for believing in me."

"It's no problem, I knew that you could do it, but I do enjoy the praise."

If it weren't for Eren walking up and interrupting both of you, the moment of celebration with Jean would've lasted much longer.

You would've preferred that outcome.

"Jean, Marco," A slap on Jeans' shoulder came from Eren, "I've been looking for you two and everyone else, Porco wants us downstairs," Eren was practically already shit-faced.

When Eren's shiny emerald eyes caught ahold of yours, he stopped to smile and greet you. He couldn't believe that he'd overlooked you for that short moment.

"You- a playboy bunny? Damn, if I would've known you'd come dressed as that I would've come dressed as Hugh Hefner," Eren held a bottle pointed at you as he took your appearance in, "don't be a stranger, you should join us downstairs."

"Now, you don't have to if you don't want to."

"It's okay, Jean," you reassured the tall figure, "it sounds like it will be fun."

Your heels clapped against the hard flooring after stepping away from Jean who finally let you back onto the ground. Instead of walking with Jean, you stayed behind him as he walked with Marco, and Eren was already way ahead of the two men. You enjoyed watching Jean and Marco converse from behind, and also you noticed how lively they seemed to be when talking to each other.

Much to your Amusement, you immediately noticed out of the crowd of people in the basement that both Connie and Sasha were wearing matching crayon costumes. Connie was the color green and Sasha was yellow.

"Over here, you guys!" Connie practically fell over his own feet as he grabbed your small group's attention.

Though, another face, another painstakingly familiar face caught your attention.

'Why the hell is he here?'

Floch never showed up to parties, so why now of all times?

You stilled in your tracks, unsure of what to do. Do you approach the group and be awkward because of your ex-boyfriend? Or do you stop, turn around, and head back out instantly without another word spoken?

You noticed when Jean turned his head over his shoulder to look back at you, almost like he somehow noticed or felt a shift in the atmosphere around your group. His lips turned from a crooked smirk from talking to Marco into a slight frown as he gazed at you. Jean paused from marching alongside Marco to glide back and meet up with you.

Naturally, Marco turned on his heel to question what was up and why both of you stopped following, and all Jean did was encourage him to carry on and that the two of you would only take a second.

You appreciated Jean's concerns, but you didn't know what to say to him, what could you possibly say to him without making him uncomfortable?

"What's wrong?" Jean asked as he finally approached you.

"He," your eyes found comfort by staring at the ground you were standing on, "he's here."

"What do you mean?" Jean looked around momentarily before looking back at you, "who's here?"

There wasn't much time to waste, not if you wanted to make your conflicting emotions noticeable to the others who were waiting for all four of you to join them. You definitely didn't want Floch to notice how bothered you were by his presence.

What was he doing here anyway? He never was the one to attend parties, he even said so himself.

"My ex-boyfriend," you spoke dryly, almost unable to be heard if Jean weren't listening well enough.

Without another word spoken, you lifted your head, Jean took the cue to follow your eyes where Floch was seated. You watched as the redhead enjoyed a beverage from his orange cup, laughing at something with a man with short brown hair, whom you didn't recognize.

"Who? That guy is your ex?" Jean asked, paying close attention to you while gesturing towards Floch.

"Yeah, the redhead, I didn't think he'd be here tonight," you exhaled an uneasy breath of air, "he was never the one for parties. God, I don't want him to ruin my night, I've been having so much fun and-"

"So then don't let him ruin your night," Jean took ahold of your hand, interlacing your fingers with his, "I have an idea."

Your eyes flashed with excitement at the hand-to-hand contact with Jean, "what's your idea?"

Jean's stern eyes softened for a split second, almost like he were telling you to trust him. Without any debate on the matter, you swallowed your nerves and squeezed Jean's fingers with your own, embracing the comforting heat of his palm on yours. You could only notice how relaxed your hand was in his, the feeling was familiar and soothing, something you could get used to if given the chance.

"Hey guys," Jean spoke to the large friend group, taking a seat beside Marco on the couch.

The group of people was much larger this time around. You recognized some faces from previous encounters at the last party, while some faces you hadn't seen before, and some were completely unrecognizable due to their costumes. More people were standing idly by away from your group talking to one another, some were dancing, and there were others preoccupied at the wet bar. You noticed that there was a small group huddled around a pool table, but decided to_ ignore_ the pool table.

Without anywhere else to sit due to limited space around, you hesitated briefly until Jean pulled you onto his lap. With a squeal, you adjusted yourself, crossing your legs quaintly as you delicately sat on his lap. This whole time from holding hands with Jean till now you've avoided looking towards the direction Floch was sitting in, but you noticed that his lips had gone still, and movement of his had ceased.

Maybe he was jealous by seeing you and Jean together, hand in hand. But that was a good thing, right?

Jean's large palm draped on your hip delicately, no, hesitantly, almost like he was unsure to touch you. His palm hovered across the material of your silk robe, feeling the intricate indentations of the more risqué undergarments underneath. He didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable by the way he was holding onto you, all he could do was hope you wouldn't mind. But, considering your past encounter with Jean, he thought something so simple as having his hand placed on your hip didn't match up to the extremity of the last personal encounter you two shared.

Connie and Sasha struck up a conversation with you as soon as you were comfortably seated. Jean and Marco casually joined in on the conversation and all five of you sat talking amongst yourselves out of the group of well over a dozen.

There were the occasional cut-ins from Eren or the blond whose name was Armin that you'd seen from yesterday, but you didn't mind. There was also a man who was named Niccolo that appeared from upstairs who joined in, he brought two beers with him and wiggled his way to sit in between Sasha and Connie, mostly leaning into Sasha though as he gave her one of the beverages he'd been holding. The more the merrier you thought.

As long as it wasn't Floch joining in, you didn't mind.

The conversation was cut to a halt when a man with dirty blond hair that was slicked back cleared his throat to speak. The blond wore a black leather jacket, with a white t-shirt underneath and faded blue jeans covering his legs. Sitting next to him was another male who wore a similar matching costume, sans jacket and his hair was only a little messier than the blonds, with his hair falling out of place but still kept back. They looked to be dressed like a character out of the book _The Outsiders, _like greasers.

"How about we all play a little game?"

"What kind of game, Pock?" A woman with thick black hair asked, her arm lazily dragged across the man's shoulder as she tipped her head out of curiosity.

"Pieck, I told you to stop calling me that," the blond seemed to be easily frustrated by the single comment.

Which only resulted in a soft laugh from Pieck, "alrighty then, Porco."

The irritate state seemed to blow over quickly, and Porco now was back on track with his original train of thought, "anyways, I was thinking of..." Porco glanced around the vast group for a moment, "a little game of truth or dare?"

"Truth or dare? Don't you think that's a little middle schoolish, baby brother?" The man sitting beside him with brown hair asked playfully, visibly striking a nerve in Porco.

"Shut up," Porco hissed at his brother, "it's my party, so I get the say in what we do, so if _you _don't like it, Marcel, then you can leave. It's as easy as that," Porco pulled a bottle of bud light to his lips before tipping his head back to take a drink. "And that goes for everyone else too, if you don't like it, then leave."

Though, with the invitation to leave if warranted, no one got up from their seat. And you could tell that Jean hadn't even considered the option of leaving since he made no effort to move, and neither did you. But, naturally, you turned your head over your shoulder just to ask him and make sure. What you didn't anticipate was the proximity that both of your faces would be to each other once you turned to look back at him.

You stilled on Jean's lap, the breath you sucked in practically caught in your throat at his closeness, "Jean," you almost asked in a hushed tone, "do you want to play?"

"Of course," his smile disappeared briefly, but not because he was unhappy, "I mean unless you don't then we can go somewhere-"

"No," you smiled, aimlessly turning back to face the crowd as you'd once been, "I'd like to play, all I need is a drink to start the pace," you admitted, eyes falling onto Floch after turning back forward.

————————

"You have to do the dare, Bert," the man from the opposing team you played against earlier, who you now knew as Reiner, spoke out, encouraging his tall friend and the girl he was with.

Currently, Bertholdt was to take a body shot off of the girl's stomach. The poor boy was flustered out of his mind, his tan cheeks were a deep shade of pink as he leaned towards the girl. Bert dipped down to her naval, sucking out the alcohol from her belly button. Whistles and cheers sounded out from the crowd when Bert pulled his face back, downing the shot of booze.

"Atta champ," Reiner slapped Bertholdt on his back, causing Bert to cough up a sputter on the alcohol that lingered in his throat.

Bertholdt shrugged his shoulder over his mouth, eliminating any residual of alcohol on his lips.

Currently, you were a few turns in of a modified version of truth or dare. But instead of truths, there were only dares, or you had to take a drink for bailing. The game and its' rules reminded you of the spin-the-bottle game you played last Saturday.

"Drink or dare," you scanned across the crowd, thinking of a victim to pick, "Sasha."

"Dare, obviously," she elbowed Connie in the rib playfully, waiting to hear the poison you picked for her.

A mischievous grin developed on your eager lips, you had just the dare in mind for Sasha.

"I dare you to go lock yourself in a room with Niccolo for ten minutes," you pointed to a room just a few feet away from your group.

Niccolo sputtered out of embarrassment, he was surprised that you'd dare Sasha to do something like that. But Sasha, she wasn't the one to complain over a dare. So, she hopped up on her feet and waited for Niccolo to follow.

Though you only crafted this dare mostly as a joke, you knew well that this dare would also help the two jump-start their relationship in the right direction. You came to that conclusion solely by observing how the two had been interacting with each other so far.

Niccolo seemed to be interested in Sasha but, of course, was hesitant, while Sasha on the other hand was oblivious to Niccolo's advances.

Before Sasha entered the nearby room, she shot you a glance, a glance that could read 'you'll pay for this later.'

After receiving quick congratulatory praise from Eren and Connie due to daring Sasha and Niccolo to do such a thing, both men signaled to Jean that it was now his turn to dare someone.

"Who's it going to be, Jean?" pulling your chin back over your shoulder, you stopped to look at the man you were sitting on.

His fingers that were slack against you suddenly gripped your body slightly. Jean's index finger vaguely tapped against you where he held onto, before combing all fingertips against your flesh in a soothing manner.

Without a second glance around the room, Jean spoke with his head slightly tilted, his eyes on and only on you, "I dare you to kiss me."

[lunewell]

The Lunewell Saga - Natura: Chapter 1

Finally, finally I can show you guys a preview of the horror book I’m publishing in October (:. You can find chapter 1 below, and if you’d prefer, you can read it on ao3 by clicking here!

Chapter 2 is now out and can be found here (:

Enjoy!

Book Sumary:

Zarifa Birch, an antique shop worker with an unusual past, has made a home for herself in the sleepy town of Lunewell. Though the shop she works at is not exactly ordinary, with cryptid items and odd occurrences, she has managed to carve the normal life she always desperately wished for out of it.

However, all that comes crumbling down, as a woman from Zarifa’s past throws everything into chaos. Faced with unimaginable horrors, seemingly unsolvable mysteries, and returning repressed feelings and memories, Zarifa along with her coworkers, must find a way to return the balance- and escape the cruel hands of death in this eldritch horror mystery.

Chapter 1:

Thorn’s Antiques and Restoration, tucked away in the tall trees that encircled the small town of Lunewell, wasn’t the place where one would expect a woman like Zarifa to work. The building was merely a converted two-story brick house, though even then the antique shop itself only operated on half of the ground floor and the basement, and the employees could consider themselves lucky if even so much as a single soul wandered in.

  From an outsider’s perspective, it made no sense. Zarifa did not originate from Lunewell, had little to no interest in antiques, and had a Bachelor’s in English of all things, whose only tie with antiques was the pompous, ivory tower assholes pestering both fields. However, if said outsider were to ask Zarifa herself, or any other of the two working in the building, why she had this job, she would have said that it was the only path she could have ever imagined herself working.

  Though even she had to admit, for as much as she loved her job, it could sometimes be… tedious. 

  Very tedious.

“How many crates of… art did we receive again?” Zarifa asked, white patched ebony fingers holding one of the many, many paintings of eerily realistic human eyes shoved haphazardly in a box. The crates had arrived this morning, heavy and worn, and were sitting in the off-white ‘employees lounge’, that only equated to a singular desk, a sofa, a microwave that never heated all the way through, and two uncomfortable plastic chairs.

 “Only two,” Bruin responded, not bothering to look up from the wooden desk, where he had his nose buried deep in a black title-less book. Zarifa would have asked what he was reading, but stares through dark thin eyes and sighs had long taught her not to. “Bought in by an Anthony Bell earlier this morning.”

  “Thank you,” Zarifa said, giving Bruin a warm smile that didn’t go noticed. She then turned to her other coworker, who had been sitting sheepishly on one of the back-destroying white chairs. “Why do we have two crates of creepy eye-paintings, again?”

  “Okay there’s actually a good reason this time boss,” Grant said hastily, chestnut brown hair messy and glasses half sliding off his face, “I was taking a walk to that cosy little bakery- you know, the one owned by that very sweet elderly couple on the other side of town, which by the way makes cakes straight from the heavens-”

  “So you were walking to the bakery, and then?” Zarifa interrupted.

  “Oh right. I had walked a little ways from the house, when I saw a white van stopped up by the road with a man looking quite pissed off outside. I went up to have a chat with him and found out he was an absolutely fascinating art major named Anthony who had run out of petrol. To make a long story short, I invited him in for a cuppa whilst he waited on the towing truck, found out he was getting rid of these absolute gems, and bought them off him.”

  Zarifa and Bruin, who had finally looked up from the pages, both stared at him. Bruin was the first to break the silence; “you bought antiques from an unverified source, in a van out of petrol, who you also invited inside my home for tea?”

  “Hey! I pay the rent too!” Grant defended, “and besides, I got, you know, the feeling off him. There was already a description of the antiques inside the box, meaning they’ve been passed around a little. If you two don’t want them here, I can take them.”

  “We can keep them,” Zarifa decided, looking at the realistic paintings once more. They were all extremely similar, each one having a blue iris and white pupils. As she moved around the box, it almost felt as though they were all following her movements. She shivered and put the lids back on; “I’ll carry this down. Grant, go open shop, and Bruin, go register these in the system, please.”

  Grant gave her a mock salute, before trudging out of the door and into the shop room, whilst Bruin nodded and turned to the big, archaic box of a computer sitting on the desk. Zarifa stacked and grabbed the two worn crates, surprisingly light in her arms, and made her way to the spiral staircase. They were narrow, seemingly ever looping steps falling into darkness that made walking down them almost impossible. She had once tried to convince Valour to install some lights over the stairs, to reveal the actual length of them and to make sure Grant would stop tumbling down into the abyss, but she had only received a stern no and an icy glare that could kill. 

  So her only options were to walk down carefully, whilst gripping onto the wall for dear life, like she was currently doing. The stairs went on for what seemed like minutes, nothing in her sight as she was swallowed in complete darkness, with no way to judge her surroundings except her shoes hitting the steps. Finally, a flickering light made its way up the stairs, and she saw the start of grey concrete.

  To say the archival basement was lit, was perhaps a bit of an overstatement. There was precisely one dim and occasionally flickering lamp in the room, slightly illuminating cobwebs glued to the walls and dusted shelves of antiquities, but not much else. However, the room was like a scorching desert sun compared to the void Zarifa had previously descended. 

  Making her way between the shelves, past the bag of hand-sewn doll-heads, slightly cracked vases, and mirrors so ladened in dust that one couldn’t see the distorted reflection anymore, she found a small group of paintings. Paintings were one of the rarer antiques for them to receive, so there was plenty of space for the two crates.

  Before slotting them in, she opened them, quickly counting the amount. There were fourteen in total, seven in each box, all in a roughly similar condition and all painted in the same way. Oddly enough, there was no signature nor name, but there was a little slip of paper at the bottom. She picked it out of the crate, and stuffed it in the pocket of her blazer, before closing the lids again.

  Zarifa slid the boxes between a painting of a single red rose titled ‘Chaos’, and a two-hundred-year-old painting titled ‘A Girl in Field’ containing a suspiciously girl-less field. There had been a debate on whether they were all just missing her, whether it was a mislabelled piece, or if it was supposed to be some kind of metaphor, but seeing as it was hardly the weirdest thing in the basement, they had all just grown to accept it. She shivered once again, the basement giving the feeling of being watched, and grabbed the golden butterfly that hung around her neck. She fiddled with the wings, every touch calming her slightly as she began making her way up the stairs. 

  The ascent up the spirals always seemed to take a considerably shorter time, perhaps because the imminent danger of falling had disappeared. Zarifa was up at the top in the blink of an eye, walking into the lounge to see both Bruin and Grant inside. Bruin turned to her from the computer; “‘Antique Eye-Painting x14’ has been written on the document,” he informed. “Did we have any other information?” 

  “I couldn’t find any signature or date on the painting itself,” Zarifa said, reaching into her blue blazer pocket and pulling the paper with a heavy brown tint out, “but there was a note accompanying it. The paper looks old enough to consider it an antique, at least.” 

  “Well, go ahead,” Grant piped up from the couch, “tell us about dear Anthony’s creepy eye pairings.” Zarifa nodded, unfolding the paper as carefully as she could, and began reading.

  ‘The Grey Man’ by Elizabeth B.- 1885

  He is watching from the water. Watching with the trees.

  Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

  The Grey Man is knocking 

“Grey Man?” questioned Zarifa, “that’s not a reference to anything, is it?”

  “Not as far as I know,” Grant said, sitting up from where he had flopped on the couch, “help us out Bruiny?” She heard a sigh from the corner, and a slight grumble, but he did eventually speak.

  “The Grey Man isn’t a reference to any historical event, no,” Bruin began, “but it isn’t something we haven’t heard before. I believe it’s referenced somewhere in Valour’s notes”

  A heavy silence fell over them at the mention. “Oh no,” Grant began, “no, no, no. The weirdly detailed cult worshipping cows with inverting eyes was enough, and the murderous glare Valour gave me afterwards almost made me piss myself. I am not going through those notes again, I don’t want to be skinned alive by our own version of Leatherface.”

  “That’s a bit far, isn’t it?” Zarifa said, “We shouldn’t go around accusing her of being a murderer, just because she’s a bit…”

  “Mental?” Bruin quipped from the back.

  “...peculiar,” she settled on, “she’s a bit peculiar.” Zarifa knew, of course, that calling Valour peculiar was a massive understatement- and even calling it a massive understatement was a massive understatement, but she would not be the one to speak ill about her boss with a potential murder streak thank-you-very-much.

  “Need I remind you of that day Valour came covered head to toe in ‘red paint ’ that smelled suspiciously like copper?” Grant said, “she obviously did some serial-killering-“

  “Killering?” Bruin asked with a cocked brow, turning Grant a salmon shade of pink and bringing a bright smile on Zarifa’s face that reached her dark brown eyes. 

  Grant made sounds akin to a drowning man. “It doesn’t matter,” he finally sputtered out, “what matters is that our dear creepy landlord was covered in what was clearly blood, passed it off as paint, and we just acted like it was normal!”

  “I don’t like it either, but I’m not going to be the one to call her out. Besides, maybe it’s a good thing. At least the days here are... interesting.” Zarifa said with a smile. “If we stopped the weirder stuff from happening, these days would pass slower. Especially since we don’t have any custom-“

  The sound of the bell that hung above the door, a loud and horrid thing, rang through the building.  

  “You were saying?” Bruin said, looking as amused as Bruin could be. Meanwhile, Grant shot up like a puppy, sprinting in an unprofessional manner towards the counter. Zarifa joined him, though her walk was much more slow and graceful. 

  She crossed through the shop door, which always stood wide open nowadays, and turned the corner. However, she stopped before she could reach Grant, who was staring at the stranger as much as she was. 

  Now, what needs to be said and understood about Thorn Antiques Shop, and the town of Lunewell in general, was that strangers were one of the rarest sights. Sure, occasionally one could find one of the neighbours’ relatives, or a gang of cyclists and hikers, and even tourists that had gotten hopelessly lost, which was impressive considering landing in Lunewell was a skill within itself, though these were few and far in between.

  The customer, who was scanning through the shop with what Zarifa could almost call interest, didn’t look remotely like a relative, a hiker, a cyclist, or even a lost tourist.

  She was short, with strawberry blonde hair tied into pigtails by two baby pink ribbons, pale but warm skin that made the light freckles on her cheek pop, and a stark black leather jacket which was visibly well-loved. There was something incredibly familiar about her, though Zarifa couldn’t pin down exactly what it was. 

  The customer’s fingers trailed over one of the antique chairs, before she sprawled over the priceless thing like a rag-doll. The violation snapped Zarifa out of her trance; “Excuse me, miss, but you can’t sit in those chairs!” she informed the customer, her voice raising a pitch higher when the blonde started fiddling with a lighter suspiciously close to the fabric.

  The customer’s head snapped up like a predator hearing prey, and for the first time, Zarifa noticed the woman’s eyes. The irises were a bombastic explosion made of hues of bright green, though it was almost impossible to tell from a first glance, as the pupils were blown so wide as to make the colour but a ring around a black hole.

  There was both something incredibly dangerous about the way she stalked over, sizing her up with those void eyes, but simultaneously, something incredibly intriguing- dare she say attractive- about the girl that made Zarifa want to keep her eyes on her forever.

  “Waste of a good chair, really,” the customer began, leaning over the counter, “what the fuck kind of shop doesn’t allow you to test the chair before you get it?”

  “I know!” Grant exclaimed, turning to the dark-skinned woman. “That’s what I keep saying! How can I know if the chair is good if I’ve never tried it!”

  Zarifa shot a disapproving look at him, irritated that he would encourage this girl. “What can we help you with, miss?”

  “Oooh, miss.” the woman drawled, “I’m looking for a collection of very… special papers that I left in the hands of one Valour Thorn a few years back.”

  “Special?” Grant asked, a look of confusion passing over his face. Zarifa was sure she mirrored the same puzzlement, but the woman merely grinned- an expression that yet again invoked that familiar feeling.

  After a few seconds had passed, and it had been made clear that she would not elaborate, Zarifa grabbed the notepad and pen on the counter and asked for her name. Maybe she was registered somewhere in the frankly ancient system. Assuming they even had a sort of registering system. She had never been the one to handle the technical aspects.

  “Lottie. Lottie Rose,” she said, and Zarifa’s hand froze on the paper. She glanced back up at the blonde, eyes wide and mouth dry. Of course, how hadn’t she seen it earlier? The clothes, the eyes, the lighter everything suddenly made more sense as her memory flooded back.

  “Lottie?” she whispered, faint as the whispers of a breeze, and there must have been something in her tone, because the striking green eyes widened comically, before the blonde suddenly burst out into a tension filled laugh.

  “Should’ve guessed it,” Lottie said after calming down, “can’t be that many Southern old-book nerds with vitiligo around. You should get name tags, I would have recognised Zarifa anywhere.”

  Her name was said in a smaller tone, filled with… with something that melted Zarifa’s insides like molten lava. They stood there in silent pressure, eyes on each other but gazes not quite meeting. It was for the better, as Zarifa’s heart was hammering hard enough that she was worried her ribcage might break. Whether it was from fear or something much scarier, she couldn’t quite tell.

  Grant snapped his fingers, both of them practically sighing in relief as the tension lifted; “Oh”, he began, smiling widely, "exes or childhood friends?” And just like that, the tension was back to crushing. 

  While Zarifa wasn’t quite sure of the state of her own face, Lottie had gone a complete shade of tomato red. “We’re neither,” Zarifa squeaked out curtly, Lottie nodding frantically along. “Can you give me a description of the papers?”

  Lottie straightened out at the request. “Can’t miss them. They’re in an ornate wooden and gold box, with a leaf engraved in the front,” she said, “it’s locked, as far as I know. Don’t know where the key is, but that’s hardly a problem.” She made yet another predatory smirk. 

  “I-I’ll go look for the papers, uh, in the back... miss,” she pushed herself from the counter at an almost inhuman speed and paced into the lounge. On her way, she bumped into one of the chairs, toppling both herself and the object. The sound alerted Bruin, who looked at her quizzically.

  “Was she your ex?”

  “No!” Zarifa exclaimed exasperatedly, “Not every woman I know is an ex!”  

  “No need to get defensive,” Bruin said, flipping a page, “I was just wondering if Grant’s observations were correct.” 

  Zarifa took a deep breath. “Sorry about that. I suppose her visit just… surprised me.” she straightened the chair, and looked at Bruin, “You haven’t seen a wooden and gold box engraved with leaves around here, have you? I can’t recall it, but you’re usually the one sorting the items, so I figured you might have seen it.”

  Bruin hummed, putting down his book and looking pensively at her. “I might have,” he said, after a quiet moment, “though if we do- or did, at any point, it’s not anywhere in the basement.” He glanced up at the ceiling, before returning to the book.

  “I suppose it’ll be upstairs, then,” Zarifa said, with a heavy sigh, “I’ll make Grant call Valour, see if she can bother to show up from… wherever she’s gone.” And try to explain to Lottie that those papers might be inaccessible, she thought, but didn’t add. Lottie was a lot of things, but patient and calm, she was not. 

  As she made her way back to the counter, gripping the golden butterfly hung on her neck tightly, she tried to calm her heart and thoughts. A part of her still refused to believe Lottie was here, after all these years, in an antique shop of all places. It almost felt taunting, in an odd way. The life Zarifa had tried so hard to run from and avoid sneaking through the door, looking more dangerous and simultaneously more intriguing than ever.

  What life had Lottie led? What had happened since that last night? How did she know Valour? What did she want with the papers? All the questions buried themselves into Zarifa’s head, burning and begging for answers. And as Lottie, drumming her fingers on the counter as Grant rambled off about something, came into view, she realised what Eve must have felt like looking at the apple.

  Lottie perked up as Zarifa entered the room, though as her eyes drifted to the empty hands, her smile fell. “Thought I asked for a box,” she said, a raised eyebrow and mean glare that would have been intimidating, had Zarifa not had to deal with years of Valour, and not known that for her, Lottie was all growl.

  “We do, most likely, have the box,” Zarifa began in her most soothing voice, placing her hands on the counter, “but, it’s currently upstairs, in Valour Thorn’s flat, to which none of us has the keys.”

  Lottie sighed, in an exasperated and slightly overdramatic way; “‘Course you fucking don’t. Guess she hasn’t changed at all, still closed off, disappearing, and secretive.” 

  Pot meet kettle, thought Zarifa, though kept her cranberry painted lips sealed. “Grant will give her a call in the morning,” Zarifa said, pushing over a blank slip of paper which had Lottie R- half-written on it in quite nice penmanship. “Just write down your number, and we’ll call you when she arrives.”

  Lottie pulled the paper closer to herself, though made no move to write. “Think she’ll even show up?” she asked, turning to Grant, who smiled at that.

  “Valour actually seems to like me,” he said, proudly, “or, tolerate, at least.”

  “Huh. Didn’t know people still practised witchcraft around this part.”

  “It’s all in my muffins, cakes, and pitiable nature,” Grant said, only half-joking, “I’ll give you a taste one time if you decide to stick around.”

  Lottie nodded, before scribbling onto the paper, and sliding it back. It contained no number, but the name had been completed, albeit with a much sloppier if artistic handwriting. “I’ll know when she returns,” Lottie said, bouncing from foot to foot. There was a firmness in her voice, and she said it with such confidence that Zarifa almost believed her. Almost. “How’s the nightlife here? Worth sticking around for?”

  “Horrid, simply dreadful,” Grant butted in, before Zarifa had the chance to give a quick answer and an even quicker goodbye, “but we do have a lot of pretty places to take a midnight stroll. Trees are lovely here, especially now in the autumn.” He paused, a contemplative look over his face, “Come to think of it, I do know quite a lot of dealers around here that can hook you up, if you’re up for it.”

  “Grant!”

  Lottie chuckled, amusement painted in neon on her face. Seeing some of that flame inside her come to light filled Zarifa with a sense of joy, that she pushed down with a strength bodybuilders would be jealous of. 

  “Oh, I like him,” Lottie declared to Zarifs, jabbing a finger in Grant’s general direction. Her green eyes- which Zarifa had to stop looking at, traced down from Zarifa’s own eyes before landing on her neck. Lottie’s posture, previously energetic and bouncy, froze. “You kept the necklace,” she whispered, though the sound felt louder than all the explosions of the universe.

  Zarifa’s hand was instantaneously on the golden butterfly hanging around her neck, shielding it from the world. The metal felt cool against her skin, even if she could feel her racing heart where her hand rested. “Felt it was a shame to let it go to waste,” Zarifa murmured, technically true, “so I just kept it.” She shifted in the silence for a while, doing her best to ignore Lottie’s eyes glued to the necklace, before clearing her throat and putting on her best ‘professional’ tone; “Was there anything else you needed?”

  Lottie shook her head, leaning back from the counter and adjusting her leather jacket. “No, I’ll be back soon,” she said, before speeding towards the door. She knocked into the vases, making them wobble like jelly, before pushing the door open like she was assaulting it, and leaving nothing but the sound of a bell and the distant thrum of a motorbike. 

  “Lottie, huh,” Grant said, his tone dazed as though he was lost in a daydream, “she was certainly interesting. I’m a fan. Think we’ll see her around more?”

  “Hopefully not,” Zarifa said, running fingers over the butterfly, “hopefully not.” 

[pikemoreno]

face to face

pairing: din djarin x reader

summary: a beautiful day in a safe, pleasant place gets din thinking about the future.

word count: 3.3k

warnings: absolute mush, mild suggestion, not well-edited?

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You were never going to be able to leave this place. You'd decided it now. The child was far too enthralled with the puddles, staring at his rippling reflection in each one, intermittently looking back to where you and Din were sitting in the grass. His little green fingers pointed to each patch of water as if to say, "Do you see this too?"

You were seeing it.

And you had been for the previous ten puddles as well.

The riverlands of Dantooine were absolutely gorgeous. The sloping valley below ended in the clearest winding river you’d seen on any planet. And as its singular sun began to set, the river changed to glitter with the most magnificent purples and oranges and pinks. While the little pit stop on the way back from the nearby marketplace was unintentional, you were grateful for the little ade noticing beauty where you were about to miss it in your hurrying. 

Granted, his beauty was himself, but the sentiment remained. He was in no rush today, and you shouldn’t be either. You had a rare couple of days on a beautiful planet where no one was trying to kill you. Why go back to a dreary hunk of metal when you could sit in the soft grass and sweet air with your two favorite people?

“How long do you think he’s gonna keep looking at himself?” Din leaned over and whispered with a chuckle. You chuckled too.

“I’m gonna try something.” You gave Din’s hand a squeeze as you stood, stepping through the tickling grass over to the kid, your shoes long forgone for the feeling of the breeze on them. You kneeled beside him and he grabbed at your pant lag, excitedly pointing at his reflection once again, making a silly face into it and giggling. 

He froze completely when your foot went right through the rippling face in the surface, the water splashing onto him. He looked as though he’d been betrayed and shot: completely frozen, mouth gaping. 

But then he decided he liked it. He slowly, tentatively put his hand in the water and moved it toward you so the water would hit your ankles. That was absolutely hilarious to him, so he took it a little farther, throwing the entirety of his tiny body into it and cackling at splash. You acted shocked that he would splash you back and that made him laugh all the harder, running to the next puddle and splashing into that one-- and the next, and the next, and the next. You grinned and moved back to sit with Din, looping your arm through his and leaning your head on his shoulder.

“And the purpose of that was what? Tracking as much dirty water into the Crest as possible?” He couldn’t even pretend to be annoyed. You could hear the humored lilt in his voice as it crackled in the modulator-- the most pleasant sound you think you’ve ever heard. 

“You’re thinking too small,” you teased, “The kid is going to completely wear himself out and then we’ll get the whole rest of this day off to ourselves.” You looked up to find the little green one practically somersaulting into the puddles, big ears dripping wet. “Maybe tomorrow too, if we’re lucky.” He hummed in response, interlacing your fingers and his.

“I like your thinking.” There was a beat of silence, comfortably normal for you as you didn’t know any better, but filled with hope and anxiety for the man next to you. “That, all of this really, reminds me of something else I’ve been thinking about.”

“What’s that?” You were beyond casual in your prodding to continue, but as you sat up and away from his shoulder and looked to your left, you noticed the darkened visor of the beskar didn’t turn to face you. It remained set on the Dantooine sun setting before you. He wasn’t looking at you-- couldn’t look at you. It was an odd gesture for him. Though you couldn’t see his eyes, he was very keen on maintaining his eye contact with you usually. It felt intimate to him. 

“I was wondering if you would want to marry me.” 

You stopped. No, more than that. Time itself froze around you. The question was so out of the blue you could call it casual, but there was nothing casual about the way he was fidgeting and not meeting your eye. It had him freaked. But since your brain had now all but stopped forming coherent thoughts, all you could manage was a blank, wide-eyed question back:

“Why?”

“Is that a no?” he asked with a humorless laugh, trying to diffuse his apparent rejection.

“No, no,” your hands flew to your face in a flustered manner. You looked back at him after a moment of collecting yourself, “Not at all, Din. You just surprised me. I had no idea that was something you’d ever thought about.”

“Have you?” he asked. His tone wasn’t interrogating or accusatory but curious. 

“I have.” The face of his helmet turned to you. He sat a little taller and stiller now, no longer fidgeting with his hands and scraping at the grass with his boots. You had his full attention and you moved to sit in front of him, your hands on his bent knees. “Every time I can’t sleep and find you in the cockpit with the kid asleep on your lap and you both look so peaceful, I want to wake up to that forever. Every time you risk your life for mine I think about how lucky I would be to have you with me for the rest of my life. Every time I hear you laugh I think about the fact that it’s my favorite sound in the world and how much I would give to hear it without the modulator. I love you Din Djarin, you know that. I have thought so many times about the prospect of marrying you,” you smiled a watery smile, leaning in so your forehead bumped into his in the most intimate gesture of love you’d been able to experience with him so far. You both breathed into it, his shaky exhale the loudest sound in the peaceful valley. You pulled back as he started speaking.

“I’ve thought about marrying you so often. All the time. But especially now, seeing you and the kid so safe and happy, not worrying about chasing or being chased. I want that. This,” he gestured, arms spread wide to indicate the river valley around and, even more so, to indicate the general feeling surrounding your little clan. “I want this.” 

“Let’s do it then,” you grinned giddily as you sat back down next to him, watching the sunset sky’s colors morph and swirl as the little one remained blissfully unaware of what was happening. The new arrangement wouldn’t change much for him anyhow. Ceremony would only make official what he already held to be true: you were his buir just as much as Din was. 

“I’m happy to do whatever you want, cyare. However your home planet does it. But for now, I was hoping we could do the Mandalorian vows. The riduurok. Tonight, if you’re willing.” 

”It’s that easy?” 

“It is. Just us.”

“And I’d get to,” you suddenly felt yourself become a bit bashful, flustered, “See you? Tonight?” He nodded lightly.

“If you want.”

“There’s nothing I want more.”

***

As you had predicted, the kid had totally worn himself out playing in the puddles. He was incredibly grumpy as you pulled him from the water, pouting and whining all the way back to the Crest, reaching grabbing hands back out to the hillside. But he was dead to the world the minute you got him out of the wet, dirtied clothes and settled into the pram. 

You found Din sitting outside, looking out into the sky as it changed into its final dark purples before the sun disappeared on the horizon. You sat next to him, suddenly unsure and nervous for the first time since you really started getting to know him well over a year ago. Both of you sat in a heavy, burning silence for a moment. It was nervous and joyful, anxious and excited, and deathly quiet. There was no one within twenty klicks of the Crest. You could almost hear the river in the deep valley below. 

“Last chance to back out,” he murmured.

“Now why would I ever want that?” You heard a short, pleasant huff from beneath the beskar and guessed he was smiling too. You got antsy as you wondered what that smile looked like, antsier still upon remembering just how close you were to finding that out. He stood up, holding his hand out to you to bring you to your feet as well. As you planted your feet beneath you, he held onto both of your hands and breathed out a nerve-filled exhale, preparing himself to speak. 

“I’m going to go through the riduurok slowly. Repeat after me, alright?” You nodded quickly, but added:

“Would you tell me what it means in Basic too? It means more to know what I’m promising you.” He nodded once in response. The request made his heart leap in his throat and he simply couldn’t trust his voice. He pushed past the knot and began:

"Mhi solus tome. We are one when together.”

“Mhi solus tome,” you repeated to the best of your ability. 

“Mhi solus dar'tome. We are one when parted.”

“Mhi solus dar'tome.” Din corrected your pronunciation and you repeated once again.

“Mhi me'dinui an. We share all.”

“Mhi me'dinui an.”

“Mhi ba'juri verde. We will raise warriors."

“Mhi ba'juri verde,” you finished.

“Good.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“So we’re--?”

“Yes, riduur.” You grinned at the term, one of the few words in your sparse mando’a vocabulary. 

The silence returned then, still nervey and unsure, but so much sweeter. It bubbled and flowed as two people redefined their relationship and attempted to understand how to be in it now. It was broken by Din clearing his throat and the sound of his feet shifting unsteadily in the grass. His stance was small and meek, lacking his usual assured confidence. He knew what was coming next: simultaneously what he was looking forward to and dreading the most. 

He hadn’t exactly heard many comments on his appearance over the years. It wasn’t often that even he knew what he looked like at any given moment. He had little concept of comparison and truly had no idea how he would compare to anyone else you’d ever been attracted to. Now, he wasn’t ridiculous enough to actually believe that you would really care all that much. You’d been through too much together. You agreed to marry him with no basis of appearance at all. It was more than unlikely that you’d change your mind based on appearance now. He knew that.

Of course, that wasn’t on your mind at all. Or, it was, but not in the way he thought. You weren’t taking the trust this required for granted. It was no small thing to have the privilege of seeing Din Djarin face to face. But there was no fear in your mind, only excitement, pure excitement to be that much closer to the man you loved. To touch him, to feel his warmth, to kiss him, to look directly into his eyes and tell him you loved him: all of the things you’d had to experience through a thick layer of opaque, stifling metal thus far. Appearance and potential attraction had much less to do with the weight of this moment for you. Your nerves now came only from respect, not wanting to overstep your bounds. Did you initiate? Surely not. So what did you do? Maybe you were expected to take off the helmet after all? Din must’ve read your racing mind because he took your hands and placed them on either side of his helmeted head, letting them rest there before he moved his own away. 

“Go on,” he whispered. It’s funny, the whispers through the beskar and modulator are so much louder by design. They’re clunky. They crackle and echo strangely, in a way whispers never should. Whispers are for softness, tenderness. Sweet words shared that no one else can understand. You wondered at how even whispers would change after this, finally done as intended. 

It’s high time to find out.

You slowly put pressure on the cooled metal, pressing in and up until it lifted slowly.

You don’t miss the tiny scars at the base of his neck. You wonder what they’re from. You’d have to ask later.

Warm tawny skin.

Lips, lovely and pink and twisted up into the smallest of smiles. 

A strong jaw, scattered with a light stubble-- you liked that a lot.

A perfect nose. 

And-- oh, gorgeously deep brown eyes. One was lit up by the light coming from the open Crest. The glittering light revealed so much in the mahogany: love, adoration, flecks of a lighter shade.

As the helmet cleared the top of his head and you let it fall to the ground with a thunk, dark hair flopped onto his forehead in waves of darkest brown-- nearly black in the dimming light. 

That was it. Both of you were holding your breath. You took it all in once more: bottom to top, eyes gazing at every crinkle and scar and the winkle of his brows as he expectantly watched your eyes trail over him. This feeling was new to him too. Of course he’d been seeing you for the past year and a half, but always through the lens of an obstructing visor. It was far from natural. The new eyelines were almost as special to him as they were to you. 

His nerves were clearly evident on his face now, you didn’t have to rely on his-- admittedly very telling-- body language. It didn’t register to you that he would have anything to possibly be nervous about, but the feeling only grew in him as your eyes watered. He became increasingly tense. 

Were tears good or bad?

Usually bad right? 

Shit. What was wrong? Was it that disappointing?

“What’s wrong?” he finally asked out loud, heart deflating. The sound of his unhindered voice made them well up just a bit more. You couldn’t speak for a moment for fear of your voice cracking. He continued, “I-- I’m sorry. I’ll just--” He gestured lamely. What could he do? Put the helmet back on? Maybe just run away?

“What?” you finally sniffed, clearly seeing how absolutely horror-struck he looked, “No. Nothing’s wrong,” your hand rested on his arm, still beskar-clad, in a reassuring manner. “It’s just,” you exhaled a sharp breath, “Overwhelming. Seeing you, hearing you. I don’t have the right words to describe it.” You laughed, wiping gently at your eyes as your vision cleared now, “I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s not you. I mean it is, but not like that. You’re--” Your rambling was interrupted by lips meeting your own. 

And there was nothing timid about it. 

You bumped noses briefly then readjusted with smiles that couldn’t be contained.

That first kiss was soft, but confident. It was in no rush, knowing it had all the time in the world. There was plenty of time later to dive deeper in exploration. The kiss was just there on the surface and yet the thrill still sent your toes curling. Delicate and slow, yet it demanded to be felt right then. It had waited far too long already. It was strong and wanting and unapologetic about it. 

You pulled back for a breath, being able to finish your sentence, “Beautiful.” 

He responded in that coveted sweet whisper, previously impossible, “And you even more. Mesh’la. Mesh’la.”

The second kiss followed, leaning more into its confidence, bound to immediately take your breath away. Your lips slotted together, his bottom lip between yours. The light pressure you put on it, taking it into your mouth just slightly, seemed to strike a chord with him. He gasped slightly and his hands flew to your hips. He pulled back from the kiss, returning and changing position so he could use that same bit of magic on you, capturing your lip in between his. It was no less intoxicating to you.

More kisses followed in quick succession, each exploring that much more, experimenting with tempo and weight and position. Sure you had all the time in the world, but why wait for it to come? 

You pulled back eventually, letting your foreheads rest against each other as you caught your breath, much in the same way as you might’ve in a keldabe kiss previously, but this new way of it occurring flesh to flesh sent goosebumps up your arms. Your hand meeting clanking metal when you brought it to his upper arm reminded you that there was more to be done, new ways to get closer. You slid your hand down to his as you pulled back from the embrace and deftly removed his glove, then the other, letting them fall to the ground next to the helmet. You kissed each scarred knuckle and he laughed lightly, murmuring,

“Tickles.”

Oh, the unmodulated laugh was better than you could’ve imagined. You laughed too, looking back up at him, “The fearsome Mandalorian is… Ticklish?” 

“Ne'johaa,” he responded playfully, leaning forward to nudge his nose against yours. Shut up, he had said. Another one of the few mando’a phrases in your vocabulary, funnily enough.  

“Now. I think you’re still wearing far too much beskar, riduur.” 

In an instant he had taken the helmet and gloves off of the ground and you had him back in the Crest. With every piece of beskar removed, you pressed a kiss to the spot through the much thinner cloth that’d been beneath it-- a reminder that there was more to explore later.

Forearm. Kiss.

Bicep. Kiss.

Chest. Kiss. Lingering and loving, sending shivers up his spine.

Hip. Kiss. Another ticklish spot. 

Thigh. Kiss. A groan from Din. You grinned.

You moved back up to press a quick kiss to his lips once again, your arms slipping around his waist as you tightly embraced him-- what was really him-- for the first time. He was ridiculously warm and you wondered if that was a normal occurrence or a result of the kisses and touches. You pressed your face into his chest, breathing in his scent: smoke from the marketplace and the light-smelling soap he used that morning. His arms found their home around your shoulders in turn, gripping onto you as though you might float away if he let go. He buried his face in your hair with a hum, pressing sporadic kisses as you stayed in each other’s arms for a moment. The unprecedented amount of touch was completely overwhelming in the best way. 

Being face to face was better than he could’ve dreamed. 

And he had. More than a few times. 

He couldn’t believe that he could do this. It felt almost wrong in a way, like there was no way he should ever get to feel like this. He let a tear or two slip as he breathed in the smell of your hair: like the strange, vaguely fruity shampoo you found at a market a couple of stops back and a hint of the woodsy smell of spending a day outside.

“Thank you, cyare,” he whispered eventually, sniffing a little.

“For what?

“For wanting this too,” he sighed, “I won’t disappoint you. You and that kid are going to have the best, happiest life. I promise.” You pulled back, looking into his eyes intently. You wanted him to hear every word clearly.

“We already do, Din. If we live in a house here on Dantooine or some mansion on Naboo or on this ship for the rest of our lives, it’s going to be the best, happiest life I could’ve asked for.”

“I love you.”

“I love you more. Let’s go to bed while ade is asleep.” You suggested, mischievous smile reaching your eyes as he led you back to the cot by the hand, pressing feather light kisses to the inside of your wrist, a brand new sensation that thrilled you both. He smirked. You could see it now, clear as day across his face, but it would’ve been more than evident in his voice alone.

“Whatever you want, riduur,”

Being face to face was far better than he could’ve dreamed. 

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[fallingfor-fics]

Teachers Pet-chapter 23: patronus

All chapters

Chapter 22

a/n comment yalls thoughts on the story so far and what you think about the choice of patronus! My patronus is a boar and I hate it lol! Let me know what yalls patronuses are!

I began to turn around to head back, there was no way I'd go in there, it's called forbidden for a reason. I looked down at the map as I began to walk away and it started to disintegrate in my hands and crumpled up into ash. "What!? Come on!" I said as it blew out of my hand. "Ughhhh!" I said slapping my forehead, this is bullshit. I looked back at the forest and walked up to the edge of it again.

 I squinted looking into it, "Lumos" I said, raising my wand and holding it up. I looked in trying to see as far as possible into it, but it was almost pitch black. I looked behind me at the castle and back to the forest, tapping my leg thinking about what to do, I mean what if someone's in trouble and they need my help. I crossed my arms over my chest and looked back once more, when I turned to look in the forest again I noticed a green footprint on the ground. I walked up closer to it and another illuminated after it, "No I shouldn't this is crazy '' I said looking at the footprint, the only sound I could hear was the wind in the trees. I walked a step closer and another set appeared after that. I mean if the person really didn't care if I came they wouldn't have done all this right? I cautiously stepped forward, now entering into the forest. I'd been in here before for Care of Magical Creatures, but it was daytime, and I was with a class and a teacher. I slowly began to follow the footprints holding up my wand and looking around in all directions for anything that may come at me. The footprints led me for a while taking turns and going over hills. I could barely see where I came in at this point and was growing more afraid by the minute. I looked around and didn't see anything except the trees and branches. I stopped for a moment and the footprints stopped as well, and noticed they would disappear behind me, I couldn't see the entrance anymore and started feeling very paranoid, my heart was beating faster and I started taking deep breaths to try and calm my nerves. I decided this was stupid and turned back to head out but heard a faint voice, I stopped for a moment and decided I'd seen too many scary movies, and continued walking. "Y/n" I stopped in my tracks and stiffened, I turned to where I'd just decided not to go and looked in the direction trying to figure out if I was just going crazy. I tucked my hair away from my face and slowly walked towards the voice, thinking maybe it was a teacher or friend trying to get my attention, I knew this probably wasn't the best choice, but I did it anyway. I walked back to where the footprints had been and they continued again. I looked at my watch. "How could it be almost two o'clock already?" I said as I tightened the grip on my wand and gingerly kept walking. I followed the footsteps for another fifteen minutes or so and eventually they stopped. I looked around to where I was, but I wasn't anywhere, it was just in a random spot of the forest, it looked the same as everywhere else. I tried to refrain from shaking, but it was cold, and I was terrified at this point, but i'd gone too far to not figure out why I was here. "Y/n" I looked in the direction I heard my name once more and stayed still for a moment. The voice was light, like a girls, and it seemed familiar but I wasn't sure if I'd heard it before. I looked in the direction still, debating what my next move was. "Y/n come here" my eyes grew wide as I realized, maybe I was dreaming? Or this was a weird trick the forest could do. "Connie?" I whispered as slowly walked towards where her voice was coming from. "Y/n come on follow me" I walked slower looking around me for any signs of immediate danger, my wand ready if I needed to protect myself. This was totally freaky, it had to be an illusion or something, but why would it happen out here? "Where are you?" I asked hoping she'd respond and give me a sense of where and why she was here. The twigs and leaves crunched under me as I continued forward, swallowing the lump in my throat and taking deep breaths.

   "Here look isn't it amazing" she said a little bit closer to where I was. "What Connie? What is it?" I said afraid, I knew this wasn't her, but something in me was too afraid to doubt the voice. I saw a faint glowing green light and cautiously walked towards it, I walked up the slight hill and I looked down at a clearing, a bright green light glowing from the middle. I rest my hand on a tree for balance looking at the light. I looked around it and gasped when I saw her. It was my sister, she was a ghostly looking figure, fused of blue matter that was glowing, almost sparkling. I held my breath as I lowered my arm, I pinched myself as I stayed frozen, hoping maybe it was just a dream, but I knew this was happening. "Connie what are you doing here?" I said , voice shaking, not moving from my spot. "It's gorgeous isn't it?" She said not looking at me and just staring intently at the glowing light. I slowly walked down the hill closer to the scene. "Yeah, Connie how are you here?" I said, holding my wand tightly and eyeing her intently. "I can't seem to take my eyes off it." she said, still not looking at me. I looked down at the light, approaching it more and standing in front of it, the light standing in between us. "Constance." I said trying to get her attention, but her eyes didn't leave the light. I looked back down at it. What is this thing? I looked around us not seeing anyone or anything. "I could almost touch it" she said, bending down and slowly reaching her hand out. "No Connie don't!" I said not knowing what this thing would do. I grew afraid and stepped back as her fingers grew nearer and touched the strange glowing light. As soon as she did her figure slowly dissolved and broke into a million tiny glowing blue specs and flew away in the wind, I gasped and cupped my mouth watching everything happen. I looked at the light and it began to do the same, only when all the green lights floated away, it revealed a small singular black lotus flower, the center of it faintly glowing green. I looked around me and gripped my wand together, my knuckles growing white. I was holding back any tears, I couldn't be crying in a situation like this. I squatted down in front of the flower, observing it closely. I looked into the center and got drawn into it. I couldn't seem to look away. I raised my hand but tried to stop myself, I mean after what it did to her this couldn't be a safe little ordinary flower. I thought about how this had to be why I was led here though, I mean someone wanted me to find this little flower.

   I tried to pull away but the force in me was stronger and pulled my hand towards it. I stared into it, its glow reflecting in my eyes. My fingers grew nearer and I touched the glowing light that came from the center, immediately the light left the flower and almost absorbed into my fingertips, I felt a shock run through my body as I watched it run up my arm and across my entire body, I shivered as it made its way through and closed my eyes as it washed through me, I stumbled and fell to the side on my back as the green light traveled along my skin and disappeared. I stayed laying on the ground, trying to get up, but could barely move. I looked at the flower, noticing it was no longer glowing and reached my arm out, I pulled it from the ground and held it in my hand. I didn't know what to do as I layed there, I thought about all the books I'd read and all the spells I'd learned. None seemed to be helpful in this moment and I thought for a second I may die from a stupid decision id made. I could barely turn my head or move my arms and legs, they felt tired and sore, stiff but limp. Like if I tried to stand they'd just give out. I layed there looking up at the stars, "Come on universe, what do I do?" I spoke out softly. I saw the constellation delphinus. The dolphin, I recalled the time my sister was learning the patronus spell and found out hers was a dolphin. I always thought of her when this constellation was out. That's it, my patronus! I had never fully successfully cast it out before, I never learned what mine was, but if I had any hope of getting out anytime soon, and not being eaten by wolves this was my chance. I set my wand down for a second and tucked the flower into my cardigan sleeve. I tried to muster up some energy and bent my leg up "Ohh fuck!" I shouted quietly as I heard it pop and I used it to push myself over to a tree that was next to me, I used my arm and slowly tried to push myself up to sit against it. "Shit shit shit" I said as I squeezed my eyes shut in pain and leaned my head back once I finally sat up. I let out a couple breaths from all the effort it took and grabbed my wand.

   Ok you can do this, it's very simple, and you've seen many people do it before. I took a couple breaths and relaxed myself, trying to relax my mind and nerves as well. Connie and I had discussed what we thought my patronus might be. It wasn't a shock hers was a dolphin, she was sociable and friendly, she always thought mine might be a unicorn since she always thought I was special, but id just laugh and disagree, I was only special to her, she thought I was the best person ever im sure, she was very positive, so if anything hers would be a unicorn not mine, I always pictured mine as a cockroach, or something stupid, I could never imagine anything worthy enough for me. I was a bitch to put it simply, I was snarky to those I didn't like, and I was sarcastic and truthful to those I did like. I always pictured mine to be a panther maybe, or a fox. I guess there was only one way to find out. I looked down at my watch, it was almost 4 o'clock. I held my wand tight and winced as I lifted my arm. I relaxed my shoulders and thought about everything she had taught me. I set my intent, pointed my wand up and began to swirl my wand in a circle slowly I could see a little spurt of blue coming, but it looked like a firework that wasn't going to go off, I kept trying, closing my eyes and thinking about anything I could to encourage it. "Come on please" I said opening my eyes, the blue grew more and more consistent and I squeezed my wand tighter, I moved it faster and got ready, extracting more and more power through it. "Expecto Patronum" I yelled, it shot out some blue lights, but nothing happened. "No come one please you have to work" I lifted my wand again and pointed it to the sky. I swirled it around the blue light being stronger and I could feel the power of the spell increasing, I closed my eyes and thought of my sister, her smile when hers showed up, when her dolphin swam around us in her room, I then un intentionally thought of Severus, our lessons, his kind words, his smell, his eyes. I opened mine and yelled once more, "Expecto Patronum!" I screamed it out and out from the tip of my wand shot a bright blue light, I stared intently and a smile grew on my face, my eyes lighting up from the light, and light tears falling from my eyes, swooping down and around the trees was a beautiful magical creature, it wasn't a unicorn, but it was an Abraxan, it was a breed of winged horses, and it was beautiful, it swopped and landed down in front of me, the dirt on the ground kicking up into blue fog, I looked down at me and I looked in its eyes, it was my patronus, so it knew exactly what to do, with a strong gust of wind it flew up into the sky and over the trees out of sight. I laughed to myself so glad I was able to do it, and hoping it would get the help I needed. I relaxed against the tree and felt all my limbs go tired and numb, I was exhausted from using all that energy and felt myself drift off into sleep.