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therhythmafterthesummer · 2 years

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Safe Haven ~Bang Chan | Day 17.

Pairing: SpaceRebel!Chan x WitchQueen!F.Reader Themes: Fantasy AU | Sci-Fi AU | Royalty AU | Soulmate AU | Slow Burn | Mutual Pining | Angst | Smut | Fluff. Series Warnings: Third person POV · Very loose and liberal usage of Star Wars concepts (mostly to refer to weapons and tech). you don’t need to know anything about SW to read this, trust me · Physical descriptions of the main female character such as: can visibly blush, having long hair, and being short · Violence · Swearing · Mature themes and language · Original characters · Graphic smut (later chapters) · Mentions of the members of other groups (later chapters) · No one is straight, beware · Each chapter will include its own individual warnings. Chapters marked as M (Mature) either include highly detailed violence, or smut.

Chapter Warnings: suggestive · mentions of weapons. Word Count: ~6k | AO3

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for a 18+ audience only. Minors do not interact. ✰This chapter has been reworked as of 16/08/2023

Previous Chapter: Day 15. | Series Masterlist. | Next Chapter: Day 60.

Disclaimer: the story presented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

“Wow, look at your head!”

Wang Eun ran from where he’d been standing on the training grounds towards Felix, whose blonde hair had turned orange seemingly overnight. The change had earned Felix a similar reaction from Chan in the morning when he came knocking on Chan’s door, to which Felix had simply given him a sheepish smile and a shrug.

“I know, right? I was learning potion recipes with Her Majesty and Jenna last night”, Felix ruffled his hair gently, only for the locks to fall back into place right after, as if he’d never touched them in the first place. “It’s not the colour I wanted, but I think I like it anyway”.

“You did this with a potion?” Changbin seemed to be both confused and amazed. “You think I could drink one of those too?”

“Yeap! You can get any colour you want!” Felix started to stretch and warm up, standing right next to Chan who’d remained quiet most of the way here, and even now as they stood there all together.

Truth was, Chan was still brooding. He didn’t see, nor hear from the Queen yesterday at all. He’d not seen her since they kissed in the pool. Well, since he kissed her in the pool, and he was, quite honestly, having the worst time about it.

He did try to find her, which was the worst part. She was just nowhere to be seen, and Chan was positive she was avoiding him, especially considering she did meet Felix last night.

He did see Freyja, though. The panther had run to him with her tail high in the air and rubbed her forehead against him, which did warm him up a bit. Even if she was on her own, Chan still provided as many pets as he could, feeling a little comforted by her purring. It almost felt as if she had been trying to encourage him.

“Are you ready for today?” Wang Eun asked Chan, pulling him from his thoughts.

“I… Uh…” Chan wasn’t sure he’d be able to train today. His spirits were too crushed, and there was just no way he’d be able to concentrate enough to avoid Wang Eun’s blows.

Plus, he hadn’t even been able to wrap the ribbons around his bare limbs that morning. Not like he hadn’t tried, it was just that the second the things touched his bare skin, it felt too much like the Queen was there and he couldn’t bear it. So, he decided to be half honest when he finally answered Wang Eun. “You think we could just… not train today? I didn’t get much sleep last night, so I think I’ll just lift some weights…”

Wang Eun was about to say something, but Changbin cut him off immediately. “You can train me! Show me some cool moves”.

Wang Eun looked more than happy to give Changbin a hand, so he didn’t press Chan further. Chan knew Changbin was doing it for him more than for himself–considering he knew very well why Chan was losing sleep. He was honestly immensely thankful that Changbin took it in his hands to divert Wang Eun’s attention from him.

So he moved away from them both, and picked up some dumbbells from the rack in the corner to start a simple routine, something repetitive that he could do without having to think much.

“Have you spoken with Her Majesty recently?” Felix was close to where Chan stood, running on the treadmill. His sudden question almost made Chan drop his dumbbells, but he recovered quickly.

“I… Not really. Didn’t see her yesterday. Why?”

Felix hummed, clearly thinking something over before he continued. “She didn’t look too good yesterday, I wonder if something happened on her trip… Did you know she’s got a ball in her study similar to the one you’ve got in your room back at the base?”

She didn’t look too good… Was that a good sign or a bad sign for Chan? He didn’t know, and he clearly couldn’t ask, so he decided to focus on the other piece of information Felix had provided. “I’m not surprised. Anyone who communicates with you-know-who has one”.

When people joined the Alliance, they were usually given a crystal ball to receive news and missions from Dall, and to communicate with other units. The thing came with a base attached to a keypad, and the messages would display on the ball itself. It was honestly fiddly to operate, which was why in Chan’s unit, only Minho and Chan were the ones that knew how to use it.

“You think she…” Felix looked at his surroundings, no one else was in the area, but he still lowered his voice, just enough so only Chan could hear. “You think her trip was a mission from you-know-who?”

Chan’s eyes widened. He’d honestly not even considered it. “No clue, dude. Why don’t you ask her since you’re so close and curious about it?”

“I was actually hoping you would ask her”, Chan’s left eye twitched at Felix’s request. “Plus, you’re closer to her, she might tell you”.

Was he? Was he really closer to her? If he’d been at some point, clearly that wasn’t the case anymore. Plus, he had kind of already inquired about her trip, and she dismissed him instantly. “She won’t tell me, trust me”, and Chan was completely sure of it.

Felix had pressed a bit more about it, until Chan gave him one final no. He might’ve been too harsh when he said it, but at this point he didn’t really care. He would combust right there in the middle of the training grounds if he had to speak about his friendship with the Queen any further.

Fifteen minutes after Chan started lifting weights, Changbin essentially crawled back from the open area of the training grounds to where Chan and Felix were. The man was sweating buckets, and his face lacked its usual colour.

Changbin plopped down on one of the vacant benches, panting heavily. “Holy fucking shit”.

“I told you, dude”, Chan hardly reacted, repositioning his body to target a different muscle group as he lifted weights.

“Man, you guys are too weak”, Wang Eun stood by the bench, staring down at Changbin. He looked exactly the same he did fifteen minutes ago, barely even sweating. “Good thing you’re all hot and pretty”.

“Am I also hot and pretty?” Felix asked, still jogging on the treadmill.

“You’re the prettiest”, Wang Eun reassured him, picking up a couple of dumbbells for himself.

Felix chuckled, adjusting the tilt on the machine. “Wow, thank you, Wang Eun. You’re handsome yourself”.

Wang Eun stopped his movements immediately, and stared at Felix with wide eyes. Chan saw it as if it played in slow motion, how Wang Eun’s face was getting redder and redder by the second. He couldn’t help but scoff. There was no way this man was blushing over this…

“Uhh… Excuse me. I’ve got to… I’ve got to… Yeah”, Wang Eun dropped the dumbbells right where he had picked them up from, and left faster than Chan could tease him about it.

“See? You owe me some credits”, Felix looked at Changbin who was still fighting to get air into his lungs on the bench. “Told you he was all talk”.

Changbin huffed out a laugh. “That guy just kicked my ass, and he’s getting that flustered over you calling him handsome?”

“Must be my charm”, Felix flicked his non-existent long hair off of his shoulder. Which, even in his brooding state, made Chan chuckle.

“You are charming”, the sudden deep voice startled them.

The three of them turned towards the sound to find the High King stepping into their area. He sounded genuine, which was the most surprising part.

“Thank you, Your Majesty!” Felix, too, sounded genuine in his reply. “What brings you here?”

“Just coming for some weights”, His Majesty shrugged, making a beeline to the rack in the corner of the room. He eyed Chan as he walked past him, and stopped in his tracks to turn to him fully. “Have you seen my dear sister, Chan?”

Chan tensed immediately, and the dumbbells in his hands suddenly felt ten times heavier than they were. “Not recently, Your Majesty”.

His Majesty hummed, scanning the features of his face. The Queen and the High King didn’t look anything alike, truly. But they moved so similarly that it almost felt as if it was her scrutinising every single one of his features, which did nothing to ease Chan’s nerves whatsoever.

“You hang out sometimes, right?” Chan’s left eye twitched at the comment, and he was suddenly unsure as to why the High King was asking him this. “So if you see her and she’s a bit… weird, weirder than usual, don’t hold it against her. I think the moons are making her go a bit nuts these days”, he emphasised, rotating his index finger around his temple.

Chan blinked slightly. “Uhh… I’ll–I’ll keep it in mind, Your Majesty”.

A cold shower did very little to ease Chan’s troubled thoughts. When he left his chambers after that shower, he, once again, caught himself trying to look for the Queen. Not actively, but his eyes would certainly wander when he crossed the many corridors of the castle.

He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d see a peek of her pretty face when he turned around the corner, or if he’d find a mess of paintings on the floor from one of her many outbursts… None of that happened, though. Instead, he just saw the many workers going about their day around the castle, carrying out all their day-to-day activities as usual.

Chan pondered on what the High King told him earlier. First of all, why would he say what he said to Chan? Second of all, was he trying to make fun of his sister, or was he trying to show real concern?

It was hard for Chan to tell, since His Majesty’s tone would often not match the words he said out loud. If he’d been trying to show concern, that’d mean two people had already seen the Queen recently and were worrying about her. Which, in a way, made Chan worry about her, too.

Chan was deep in his thoughts, his feet were taking him through the familiar way he took every day to go to his ship, almost like they were moving on their own. But, out of the blue, he felt hands on his body. The alarm bells went off in his brain a second too late for him to defend himself. He was tugged with force, and was suddenly pulled into a room before the door slammed shut loudly behind him.

“We need to talk”, the Queen stared up at him, with her eyebrows furrowed in concern.

Chan just stared right back, blinking slightly as his eyes darted all around her face. He suddenly didn’t know what to say, he was too stunned to speak, even when it’d only been a day since he last saw her. Although, considering the last thing they did then, he shouldn’t have been surprised that his body wouldn’t react, really.

The Queen held his gaze for a moment too long. Chan didn’t really know who leaned in first, but they were certainly kissing now. Warmth and fire spread rapidly within him, he brought one of his hands to hold the back of her neck, while the other laid palm flat on the small of her back, so he could pull her as close to him as possible.

The Queen’s fingers threaded in his hair, the soft scratch of her nails against his scalp made him groan, enough for his mouth to open and for her tongue to sneak inside to find his own. It was desperate, and messy, and his head was spinning. His mind was suddenly blank, the only thing Chan could hear were her soft whimpers against his mouth, and that ever-present hum in his ears.

Chan vaguely realised he was moving, and his back was now against a wall as Her Majesty pressed herself to his body. He was probably letting out the most embarrassing noises, but he honestly couldn’t bring himself to care. Her warmth was too distracting, and too alluring, for him to think about anything other than her body against him.

In one swift movement, he flipped their positions, so he could now press her against the wall, and slot one of his legs between hers. The most delicious yelp escaped her lips with the motion, only for the sound to get lost inside his mouth, since neither of them seemed to want to pull away from each other.

For a split second, Chan worried he might’ve been getting too carried away, but that worry died almost as soon as it came when he felt a hand–her hand–find its way to his bum and fucking squeeze the flesh over his trousers.

So he retaliated. Of fucking course he retaliated… Chan liked things to be fair, and it was only fair that he, too, got to cop a feel. His grip was probably a bit too strong, his neediness certainly got the best of him, but she didn’t seem to mind, if the sudden moan filtering between their kiss was anything to go by. Blood rushed from his head to his crotch with the sound, and all of a sudden his underwear felt unbearably tight.

The Queen was a strong woman, physically. Much stronger than Chan was, for sure. However, when she pushed him away, it was almost weak, like she didn’t really want to do it at all. Chan moved regardless, separating his body from her just enough for her to slip past him and remove herself from his space entirely.

Pacing around the room, the Queen’s fingers tangled in her hair, and she tugged the strands gently. “Shit, you’re dangerous”, her words came out in a breathless chuckle, and her chest heaved as she tried to get air back into her lungs.

“Me?!” Chan was just baffled, he just couldn’t help the incredulous laugh that flew past his lips, nor the question that came right after. “What about you, witch?”

The Queen looked at him, and Chan looked right back at her. Who had moved first? Chan didn’t know, and, at this point, he also didn’t care. All he cared about was the feeling of her soft lips against his own, and her tongue pushing against his while they kissed again.

There was a desk in the room, apparently. Chan realised it the moment he’d pushed her against it, when the thing dug on her backside as his hands held her hips in place, kneading the flesh over her clothes. When did the Queen move her leg? He didn’t know, but the warmth around his hip and the weight of her heel pressing on the back of his thigh awoke something within him, something primal and so incredibly dangerous if acted upon.

His hand flew to her thigh, and he hiked her leg a bit further up on his torso to keep it in place, ensuring that her balance was secure with the desk behind her to stabilise her. He was dizzy. From the kiss, from her warmth, from the arousal that was close to burning him alive…

One of her hands tangled in his hair, and she tugged–not enough to hurt or pull him away, but enough for his body to react. His hips rolled forward for his very prominent erection to grind against her centre, which made the Queen moan loudly against his mouth, further making his head spin.

Chan needed to breathe. His heart was beating just way too fast, his breathing laboured further with every graze of her tongue and every minute roll of her hips, and the only active brain cell he had left was screaming at him to get oxygen into his lungs as soon as possible.

So, he disconnected his lips from hers, only to reattach them to other areas of her skin. He kissed the apple of her cheek, her jaw, settling on the soft skin of her neck. In a way, he felt ravenous, hungry. It was the type of hunger he could only satisfy with the taste of her on his tongue.

Every time his lips connected to her skin, every time his tongue got bold and prodded her exposed neck, every time his grip on her thigh tightened or his hand moved further up on it, the Queen shivered under his touch, which only fueled him more.

“Chris, listen–” Her words died on her tongue at the sudden roll of his hips. The movement had been almost involuntary, an almost instinctual reaction to his name coming out of her mouth.

“Listen, I… I need you to stop”.

Chan froze.

That four letter word shocked his senses back into reality, as if a bucket of cold water had been dunked over his head.

He pulled back from the Queen’s neck to look at her face. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips were swollen, kiss-bitten, and her eyes were closed as she took deep breaths. Right then, she looked probably the prettiest Chan had seen her as of yet, and the sight certainly made his heart flutter.

Their movements had stopped, but their positions didn’t change. His hand was still on her thigh, his fingers lightly dug into her flesh, sporadically squeezing over the fabric of her trousers, while he hands were still very much buried in his hair.

After a few seconds, the Queen took a deep breath and finally opened her eyes. “I can’t think clearly if you’re touching me”.

Even after saying that, she didn’t pull away. She made no attempt to remove herself from his space at all. Her hands just simply remained mindlessly playing with the hair on the back of his head.

Chan huffed out a laugh. “Me neither, clearly”.

Her Majesty chuckled softly. “At the risk of bursting into flames right here, I really need to talk”.

Chan pressed a soft kiss to her cheekbone, only to finally step away from her, letting her leg fall to the floor. The sudden lack of her warmth made his head spin, but he decided to ignore it.

“I don’t know for certain what’s your… your stance on it, seems like it’s similar to mine. But you… you make me feel things. Too many. And it’s honestly a little scary”, there was sincerity in her voice, the feeling she described was something that, if anyone could understand, it would be him. “But we can’t do this”.

Chan blinked for a couple of seconds, and then took another step back, unsure of what to do. He suddenly felt… confused, and much, much less confident. It must’ve been obvious on his face, too, as her eyes scanned his features with clear concern in them.

The Queen inhaled deeply, dragging her hands over her face before she spoke again. “There are things you still don’t know about me. Things I wish I could tell you, but I can’t without putting a lot of people and you at risk. Besides, the Big Bad Wolf’s repairs are going smoothly. What’re you gonna do when it’s completely operational again? You know I can’t leave for long periods of time. Are you gonna stay here with me?”

Chan felt it then, the sharp twinge in his heart. She was right. Soon, he’d have to leave, he couldn’t stay. His mouth opened and closed a few times, while he just looked at her, trying to find suitable words to reply to her, but no words came out.

“Exactly”, her words were steady, almost impassive, but her eyes couldn’t pretend like her voice did. Chan could see clear as day all her unsaid words, and complicated feelings, swimming in them. “You’ll leave and return to your base to fulfil your own moral duties, while I stay here doing the same”.

His stance on it she asked? It was exactly the same as hers, and of course she could tell, because against his better judgement, Chan would often wear his heart on his sleeve, even when he shouldn’t have to.

The Queen was right, and it irked him in a way… Not only because she was absolutely right, but also because she was so fucking level and collected when she talked about this, while his heart was doing summersaults in his chest.

“I must say”, Chan started, crossing his arms over his chest, trying his best to keep his voice steady. “I really admire how you can be so rational about this”, he finished off with a dry laugh.

The Queen looked at him for a moment, and then sighed. It was a tired, defeated sigh. “I have to”.

She moved just a tad closer to him, close enough so he could hear her whispered words. “It doesn’t matter how much I yearn to hold you, to kiss you, to be close to you”, the Queen brought a hand to her chest, spreading it wide open. “Even if it hurts me, I’ve got to be rational, otherwise I’d just give in to this burning feeling in my heart without hesitation, completely shamelessly and carelessly”.

Her words reached deep within Chan, they rattled that annoying box of feelings in his heart. Her Majesty’s eyes scanned his face for a while, until she let out another tired sigh.

“I just… I’m too dedicated to the Alliance. It’s what I spend most of my time on when I’m not actually ruling my planet. As long as I can’t be fully transparent with you, as long as the Charmer is loose around the galaxy… I just can’t do this. I don’t have time for this… and you deserve better than that”, her expression changed then, and he could see it clearly in her face, the struggle within herself.

A few moments of silence passed, a few moments where neither of them were really sure what to do or say to the other. Until Chan moved, until that intense urge itching under his skin materialised into existence, an action that had started before he could even stop himself.

He reached for her hand, and held it in his. It wasn’t a tight hold, but it was certainly firm, and his thumb started to lightly brush her knuckles.

Chan saw her façade crumble with his touch, and her body gave in to their inexplicable pull to each other. The Queen moved closer, releasing his hand and wrapping her arms around his waist, tucking her head under his chin. Chan simply wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and brought one of his hands to rest on her hair.

“I’m sorry”, she whispered, her voice almost muffled against the fabric of his vest top. “I must be giving you so many mixed signals right now”.

Chan chuckled. “A bit, yeah”, he caressed her hair. It was pretty much a mindless action he wasn’t sure he was doing to ease her worries or his own. “I did, uh, kiss you first, so I guess it’s my fault”.

The Queen hummed, the vibration seemed to reverberate against his skin, reaching those secluded areas deep within his heart. “Darling, I’m just as guilty, trust me”.

Oh, wow. A term of endearment. It wasn’t mocking, nor teasing, nor playful. It was just… real, it fell from her lips so naturally… And it affected him, a bit embarrassingly, even. So Chan tightened his hold around her frame, and decided to break the heavy atmosphere with one of his insufferable comments.

“Maybe you’re right… It’s all your fault, witch”.

Her Majesty weakly slapped him on the back, but she chuckled regardless. “You’re so annoying sometimes, makes me want to–”

A breathless laugh fell from her lips as she cut her words short and shook her head.

“Makes you want to what?” Chan taunted.

“Makes me want to shut you up”.

“How?” Chan was delving into dangerous territory. He couldn’t help it, the urge was too strong. He really, really wanted to annoy her, to get under her skin and get her to do something, anything…

Again, sometimes, he was just a bit shameless.

Chan felt the sharp intake of breath against the skin of his neck, and one of her hands moved from where it had been resting around his waist to lay palm flat on the small of his back. “Don’t tempt me”.

“But it’s so much fun”, Chan pouted, he fucking pouted even if she couldn’t see him.

She hummed, and when she spoke, her lips ghosted over the skin of his neck, making the hair at his nape stand on end. “Is that what you want from me, then? Just to have fun?”

Her tone was level still, almost impassive, but there was an undertone of curiosity to it, like she genuinely wanted to know. The Queen pressed a soft kiss on his neck, and the feeling almost made him shiver. Chan supposed it was fair, considering he, too, had kissed her there earlier.

“No”, now was as good a time as any to be honest, so he was, all while sprinkling a little term of endearment of his own, because, why wouldn’t he, if he felt like it? “Your suspicions are correct, love. You, too, make me feel things. Too many”.

The Queen buried her face further in the crook of his neck, and an appreciative hum vibrated against his skin.

There was just something so comforting about having the Queen in his arms. Chan knew he had feelings for her, he’d known for a while… He’d known how the feel of her hands in his affected him, how full he felt when they spoke, when she shared those bits and pieces of her knowledge with him, how his heart reacted to her laugh, her voice, her presence in general…

It was odd, but now that he held her in his arms, it was almost as if there was something in the back of his mind telling him that this was what he was supposed to be doing, that urged him to just do it, to continue to do it, and, as he pondered on it, Chan’s resolve was clear. With his cheek against her hair, with his senses full of just… her, there was no doubt in his mind when he spoke his next words.

“I’ll wait”.

The Queen took in a shaky breath, and her arms around his waist tightened their hold ever so slightly. “I wouldn’t ask that of you. It’s not fair”.

“I know”, he was set on it, there was just no other possible option in his mind at this point, he was in too deep already. When Chan had a goal, he would strive to achieve it, regardless of how hard it could be, and for her, he decided right then and there, without hesitation, that he would wait. “But rebellions don’t last forever. Eventually, we’ll win, and I’ll come back. We’ll figure it out then”.

The Queen’s hold tightened around Chan’s waist a bit more, and all of a sudden, a thought passed briefly in his mind, a drop of doubt that had nothing to do with his feelings, but hers. “As long as you’d take me, of course. Otherwise you can just tell me to fuck off and I’ll leave you alone forever. And that’s a serious offer”.

He heard the Queen chuckle again, her breath fanning his neck made goosebumps rise at his nape. Pulling back from the hug, she laid her hands on his chest, and Chan’s hands moved from their place around her shoulders to rest on her lower back with her motion.

While Her Majesty looked right into his eyes, she had a glint of something in her eyes, something that Chan was certainly mirroring in his own.

Hope.

Bringing a hand to the back of his head, her fingers played with the curls there, before she offered him a soft ‘Thank you’.

Chan just regarded her with a smile. She broke eye contact, and once again, her eyes darted all around his face, until they finally settled on his mouth. He could practically see the cogs turning in her head, so he stayed still in their embrace, waiting for the Queen to make her decision.

Ultimately, she leaned in and kissed him, giving into the pull. That burning flame inside of him spread like wildfire all throughout his body as soon as her lips made contact with his, as soon as he kissed her back.

The unspoken words in her actions were very clear to Chan. This was a promise. A promise of a future… of a future together.

Chan could feel heat on his face, on his neck, and his chest. It was everywhere, and when the Queen pulled away from the kiss, he noticed a soft blush had spread over her cheeks as well. Her eyes focused on his kiss-swollen lips for a moment before she finally looked him in the eyes with a shy smile on her lips.

“I have to go now”, the cursed words left her mouth as the fingers of one of her hands mindlessly tapped Chan’s chest, while the other twirled a strand of his hair.

“I know”, Chan removed himself from her space then, taking a tentative step back.

The Queen regarded him with one last, almost apologetic smile, and her words of ‘See you later’ were the last thing she said to him before she turned around and walked away, finally leaving the room.

Even then, after the incessant pulling sensation diminished only slightly the more she moved away, his resolve didn’t waver. Chan was absolutely sure of what he’d told her, about what he’d promised…

Now, he had something to hope for. A newfound goal that was quickly ingraining itself in his mind.

We’ll win, and I’ll come back.

“I just need to know where to connect the thing to. That’s what I’m missing and it’s driving me crazy!”

Chan, Changbin, and Felix decided to stay back inside the Big Bad Wolf after repairs ceased for the day, just so they could talk to their friends back at the base. Jeongin had picked up this time, the man was completely stressed out of his mind as he couldn’t continue repairs on the Shining Starlight without knowing where a specific circuit board was supposed to connect to.

“Okay, describe to me in detail, where exactly are you trying to plug it into?” Chan was rubbing circles on his temples, there were no doubts in his mind that Jeongin was trying to connect the thing to the wrong connector within the console. He remembered quite vividly how Jeongin had ignored him ages ago when he was trying to show the younger man how to do this.

“Okay, so there’s the main unit, right? So, I crawl under the main unit, and open the farthest left panel–”

Chan cut him off. “Your left or the console’s left?”

Silence fell on the line for a few seconds, and eventually Jeongin let out an exasperated groan. “Oh, shit”.

Changbin chuckled from where he was sitting on the floor playing cards with Felix, meanwhile Felix just shook his head disapprovingly at his friend on the other side of the line, placing a card on the pile in front of him, forcing Changbin to pick up four cards from the other pile.

“You should pay attention to me when I show you things”, Chan sighed. “What’re you gonna do when you’re old and I’m gone?” He added with the most dramatic tone he could muster.

“Man, I’m sorry, okay. Sometimes you just talk too much and I get distracted”, Jeongin lacked any semblance of remorse, which made Chan scoff immediately.

Chan was about to reprimand Jeongin, when, all of a sudden, Minho’s screams could be heard through the line, very, very far away. The man was surely running into the communication room, screaming ‘Guys, guys, guys, guys’ repeatedly, like a chant. The tone slowly increased the closer he got.

There was rustling, a ‘What the fuck, dude’ from Jeongin, and then Minho was talking right into the communicator. “Shut it, this is important!” He was clearly addressing Jeongin, who very gracefully swore at him in the background. “Guys! Who’s there?”

“All three of us”, Felix said–their game of cards now forgotten once he and Changbin stood up and came to Chan’s side, right by the communication system.

“Jaebum’s unit’s been rescued. Dall’s just sent a message to all units”, Minho was slightly breathless, but he sounded relieved, which was the same feeling that washed over the three men inside the Big Bad Wolf.

“Holy shit, do we have details?” Changbin asked, clutching Chan’s shoulder–for moral support, Chan supposed.

“Seems like four of them had been captured, obviously Dall didn’t specify who exactly. In any case, apparently a couple of days ago a few units were able to assist and the rescue mission went smoothly”.

Chan let out a sigh of relief, slumping on his chair. “Man… That’s great”.

And it was. It was great that they could rescue them. Chan felt a lot of respect for Dall, whoever or whatever the person–or thing–was, they had proved time and time again to be someone they could count on when things got really bad.

Not like it mattered much, anyway, but he wondered if at any point, they would come clean and show themselves, or if, once the Alliance’s goal was fulfilled, the person–or people–would never reveal their identity at all.

“Do you think Dall was there with the unit as well?” Felix asked. He had always had special curiosity towards the identity of Dall. Sometimes, he even got borderline annoying with his speculations and conspiracy theories. Chan would humour him most of the time regardless, even if he had no real interest in the topic.

“It’s not like anyone could tell anyway, no?” It was Jeongin now talking on the other side of the line. “No one truly knows anyone from Dall’s unit, either, so it could be any random guy”.

“Or girl”, Changbin offered.

“Does it even matter?” Chan asked, to no one in particular. “For all we know, Dall could be several people, they could be a man, a woman, a person with no or unspecified gender, or even AI. We’ve been following them for so long already, I don’t think it matters that much”.

“Dude, where’s your sense of curiosity?” Felix was pouting and everything, which made Chan chuckle.

“You mean my sense of gossip? Outside of the Alliance, clearly”.

“Anyway”, Minho cut them off. “There’s another thing they mentioned, kinda unrelated to the rescue mission”.

Chan sat up straighter on his chair, listening intently as Minho continued. “Seems like they’ve found some sort of material that’s highly effective against the Charmer’s creatures, and they’re working on developing weapons to use them against the damned things”.

Chan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and his two friends next to him looked pretty much the same.

The Charmer’s mutated creatures were incredibly difficult to beat, regular blasters of any kind hardly scratched them, and any other physical weapon would break if you tried to impale the things. So a breakthrough like this was huge, getting weapons that could beat the creatures would mean they could get even closer to their goal, to finally win.

Chan was very curious. “Did they say what it was?”

“Nope. Just said they’ll keep us posted–Yes, Jeongin, you can talk now, damn”.

“Guys, any news on when the ship will be operational?” Jeongin asked.

“I was told today the tentative end date of the project is around two months from now”, Chan offered, sounding less excited than he thought he was going to be.

Earlier, as soon as Chan had arrived to the ship, Talboot had given him the news. After assessing the ship fully, they determined the ship should be fully operational within two months, possibly even before that if everything went smoothly. It was something that both excited him and gave him pause. He couldn’t help but feel conflicted after his conversation with the Queen today.

Chan had to leave. They had to leave. All three of them. They needed to return to their routines and continue their active involvement in the Alliance. Even if his heart was screaming at him to stay, he just couldn’t. So, knowing that he only had a couple of months at best to enjoy more of the Queen’s company made him feel… oddly distressed, to put it simply.

“That’s great, isn’t it?!” Minho sounded genuinely happy about it.

Chan decided then to shove his feelings as deep as they would go. There was no point in brooding about it now, much less in letting his friends know about his conflicted feelings.

“Yeap. It’s great”.

Maybe, if Chan said it many times out loud, he’d start to believe it.

Previous Chapter: Day 15. | Series Masterlist. | Next Chapter: Day 60.

#stray kids fantasy au #stray kids fanfiction #bang chan fanfiction #bang chan fic #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids fanfic

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crazyapplekiss · 2 years

Text

Pink Flour

“You’re getting flour everywhere”

Niki tried her best to keep a straight face as she looked over at Dream who was covered in more flour than the pastries themselves and tried his hardest to roll the dough he made to make some cookies.

His scarred and trembling hands cut the dough into messy shapes as he stuck his tongue out in concentration. She had offered him her cookie cutters so he wouldn't have to go through the trouble of shaping them himself but he turned them down saying that it was cheating, that this was a competition after all. He couldn't make the best cookies by taking the easiest route anyways. Looking at the lopsided shapes made her laugh at the thought.

Once upon a time she had feared him.

Back when she had first joined the server, all she had ever heard about him was that he was evil and cruel and manipulative. How the man with sandy blond hair and a bright green hoodie was somehow one of the most dangerous and feared people that she would ever have the misfortune of coming across in the smp. That he'd come in as silent as a mouse and weave sickly sweet words and always knew just how to get under your skin.

Back then, when L'manberg first began, she had given him the benefit of the doubt. Surely everyone's words were an exaggeration. The man who came into her bakery didn't quite fit that description. He was one that was goofy, who told jokes and messed around and got flustered when he got sweet berry jam on the front of his hoodie.

Over time the easy-going man she knew turned cold and closed off. She saw him less in his signature green outfit and more in the haunting purple glow of his armour shimmering with enchantments. The smooth jokes and small talk they once shared soon turned into venomous words that seemed to cut deeper than any sword ever could.

The day she helped put him behind bars was the day she had given up on the hope that her friend would return. Maybe someday in the future, they could look back and figure out where it went wrong and one day they could finally look past all his faults and find the man that they had all cared for.

Now when she looks at Dream she doesn’t see the tyrant that terrified the server all those months ago, neither does she see the weak and frail man that came stumbling out of the prison with wide eyes and too many scars in armour that looked much too big for him. She looks at him and sees her friend. She sees the man that used to come to her bakery every week and chat with her over fresh bread and sweet berry jam and tea. This was the man that Techno had spoken so highly of in skill, who he gave the honour of being his one true rival and who Techno never failed to tease when he lost to him in a spar. He was the one she saw slowly warm up to Phil, trailing after the older man like his shadow across the commune and helping with chores no matter how many times the winged man said he didn't have to.

Some days Dream liked it quiet. On those days Niki learned to simply sit with him and exist. She’d brew some tea and sit by the fire with a book and a warm blanket as he dozed by the fire and some days his hands shook uncontrollably and he couldn’t sit still. On days like those, he liked moving around, being useful and making himself busy. If he wasn’t some sort of task then he’d help sort the chests, or walk around the house or play with the dogs in the snow. Even if she still didn’t have all the details of what he went through inside that prison, she understood.

“Alright I think I'm done”

Dream stood over his creations with a proud grin, absentmindedly wiping his face and spreading flour over his nose and cheeks. Niki giggled at the sight and offered him a washcloth as she observed both their work. The shapes Deam tried to make were anything but smooth and straight but he put a lot of effort into them, even if the mobs they were based on looked nothing alike.

“They have… a lot of character” was all that Niki decide to offer, giving him a knowing look.

Dream nudged her with a huff, collecting the bowls and spoons and dropping them in the sink to wash as she put the cookies in the oven and set the timer. When she turned to face him again she was met with a face full of flour. She stared at him in shock as he shuffled around looking sheepish and not at all guilty.

“Oh you’re on Dream” Niki grabbed a handful of flour and all but launched it at him turning the kitchen into a flour-coloured battlefield. By the end of their little game, the cookies were ready to be pulled out of the oven and they ever both covered head to toe in white dust and were laughing so hard their cheeks ached.

Right now, Niki liked to look at Dream and smile at how far he’s come. He had flour dust in his hair and cookie crumbs on his cheeks and he looked happy. His hands still tremble when he tries to hold them still and he still sometimes flinches even at the slightest touch but slowly she could see the friend she always missed peaking out from the shadows.

And if it took them a thousand cookies to see that Dream again then she’d gladly help to bring him out. One step at a time.

-----

As you can see I am dialogue adjacent XD

Inspired by Hexx Loop idea: Loop where dream hyperfixates on making better pastries than Niki (he fails).

This fic is inspired by one of the Loop Ideas posted in the discord server created By LuckyMagicBelle from her fic On Temporizing. I hope I was able to capture the characters well enough! Thanks for checking out fic!

#minecraft #c!dream #c!niki #post prison break #comfort #baking #angst #just a lil #forgiveness #domestic fluff #bonding #only the characters not the creators #friendship

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wingcinna · 5 years

Photo

sketch Muriel x Sajna kiddo, Aralai. surpressing the urge to pet a strangers dog~

#cinna wings it #the arcana #fan aprentice #sajna #Muriel #the dog will be pet #reminiscent of Sajna trying to pet inanna 🤣#basically like mom but with flower powers and two left feet 🌺#quiet and highly likely to cut her hair any given day #6ft 6 in of muscles and cute #sometimes you need to draw a sweetie

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elriell · 3 years

Text

Two Mates? Elriel & (El)ucien Theory.

These are just a few of my thoughts compiled together regarding having two mates, the signs and breadcrumbs Sarah has incorporated. If you know me you know am a Lucien fan so this is nothing hateful towards him and we will be looking at his place within it all as well, that being said this will have bond rejection/misalignment talk so if that is not your cup of tea I understand and you can skip this! As always I would love to hear everyones thoughts so long as we are all respectful ♡

Let's start by discussing the where the two ships align and parallel mates behaviour, and then we will discuss where their arc's veer from each other...

“TOUCH HER, SMELL HER, TASTE HER– THE INSTINCTS WERE A RUNNING RIVER.” (Lucien in ACOWAR about the mating bond.)

“Letting his scarred fingers touch her immaculate skin. Letting them brush the side of her throat, savoring the velvet-soft texture.”

“Azriel's fingers lingered at her nape, atop the first knob of her spine. Slowly, Elain pivoted into his touch. Until his palm lay flat against her neck.”

“They'd exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching. ”

“He prayed she didn't peer down. Prayed she didn't understand the shift in his scent. ”

“Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it. ”

“He needed to know what the skin of her neck tasted like. What those perfect lips tasted like.”

“This one moment, and maybe a taste, and that would be it.

“Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision. Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them. ”

Now you can easily parallel this to any of SJM's mates, like Feysand or Nessian. But for the sake of brevity I will leave you with the original link to the wonderful @suelky post where it was pointed out w/ Feysand quotes as well. [source]

Also "The instincts were a running river.” sounds a little like “Azriel’s Siphons guttered, the stones turning as dark and foreboding as the deepest sea."

The Bonus POV has a lot of typical "Mates" behaviours manifesting between Elain and Azriel, and it would make sense this would be a extreme POV shift as we have never been inside either of their heads before so we were bound to have a major learning curve, especially with Az who is so reserved with his emotions.

“But Lucien’s attention went right to the hallway toward the back, his nostrils flaring as he scented Elain’s direction. And who she’d gone with. A low snarl slipped out of him—”

“So you will leave Elain alone. If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her." Azriel snarled softly.”

There are countless main trio parallels but most of you are aware of which one is my favourite...

“Knelt on those stars and mountains inked on his knees. He would bow for no one and nothing— But his mate. His equal.”

“Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it.”

"Every instinct in his body came roaring to the surface, so violent he had to choke them with a brutal grip or else he'd find himself on his knees, begging her for touch, for anything."

And on to where they go their separate ways from a textual perspective;

"Elain only shrank further into herself, no trace of that newfound boldness to be seen.”

“Rhys kissed the hollow of my collarbone, and my core went utterly molten. “My brave, bold, brilliant mate.”

“You can give everyone that I Will Slay My Enemies look—which is my favorite look, by the way. You can keep that sharpness I like so much, that boldness and fearlessness. I don’t want you to ever lose those things, to cage yourself.”

“And he had the nerve once his powers were back to shove me into a cage. The nerve to say I was no longer useful; I was to be cloistered for his peace of mind.”

“Remember that you are a wolf. And you cannot be caged.” He kissed my brow one more time, my blood thrumming and boiling in me, howling to draw blood.”

I think finding freedom and power from within is something that the books have emphasized through Feysand and Nessian's journey's. Which is so interesting considering Lucien and Elain are both feeling tied to each other, as if in a cage of sorts.

Elain herself has been stuffed in to a box of other peoples making throughout most of the series, it quite prevalent she might feel caged by their opinions of who she is.

"Maybe she was never given a chance to be that way." I whipped my head towards him. "You think I stifle her?" Rhys held up his hands. "Not you alone."

“Nesta had been right. It was like a prison, this place.” [Graysen's Manor]

“Shall I tend to my little garden forever?” When Nesta flinched, Elain said, “You can’t have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater.”

“She ignored me, and saw Elain as barely more than a doll to dress up, but Nesta was hers. Our mother made sure we knew it. Or she just cared so little what we thought or did that she didn’t bother to hide it from us.”

And as for Lucien I think his duty and honour to her is what is caging him;

“I can’t stand to be in the same room as her for more than two minutes. I can’t stand to be in this court and have your mate pay for the very clothes on my back.”

“Why are you here?” Cassian asked, unable to help the sharpness. “Where’s Elain?”

“I am not always in this city to see my mate.” The last two words dripped with discomfort.”

“Why?” Not a flicker of emotion. “He is Elain’s mate.”

I waited. “It would be an invasion of her privacy to track him.”

Godbless Azriel for respecting Elain's privacy.

I think we would see/understand a lot more if we got a chance inside their heads but the one time we did see Lucien's POV we got a good glimpse at how he feels about his situation with Elain and it wasn't particularly positive and reminded me of Rhy's parents.

"She’d seen him not as a High Lord’s seventh son, but as a male. Had loved him without question, without hesitation. She had chosen him. Elain had been … thrown at him.”

“...to remember that she picked it. Picked me. That it’s not like my parents, shoved together.”

Not using the word cage per say but the implication isn't much better.

“You know them better than I do. But I will say that Lucien is loyal—fiercely so.”

“So is Azriel.”

I don't think the debate is really whether Lucien is deserving of her, or even Azriel for that matter, it is a question of who is actually right for her and vice-versa, who has she been consistently written to thrive and smile alongside. And that is Azriel.

Why does Sarah constantly put Azriel in the picture, from day DOT. She was screaming "hey look Azriel is here, and they would work magically together"

“And I think Elain—Elain would like it, too. Though she’d probably cling to Azriel, just to have some peace and quiet.” I smiled at the thought—at how handsome they would be together.”

There are several instances/evens that occur throughout the series that set both Elucien and Elriel's relationships apart, and I think it is highly intentional on Sarah's part...

“I said quietly, “We will get her back.” But Lucien was watching me warily. Too warily.”

“From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.” Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows. Nesta said, “Then you will die.” Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.”

Or we can look at both Solstice's and the clear differences in how their relationships are growing, and also how well one and other know each other.

“Tell me when you knew,” he demanded, his knee pressing into mine. “That Rhysand was your mate. Tell me when you stopped loving Tamlin and started loving him instead.”

“He left the rest unspoken. Because her mate was here, sleeping a level up. Because her mate had been in the family room and Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much. Elain's large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that.”

“I want to see her. Just once. Just—to know.” “To know what?” He hitched my damp cloak higher around us. “If she is worth fighting for.”

“Azriel stiffened. “I know. I helped rescue Elain, after all.” Az hadn’t so much as hesitated before going into the heart of Hybern’s war-camp.”

GIFTS REFLECTING THEIR RELATIONSHIP MILE MARKS

“Az ran a hand through his dark hair. “Are we …” Unusual for him to stumble with words. “Are we supposed to get the sisters presents?”

“I handed Elain the small box with her name on it. Her smile faded as she opened it. “Enchanted gloves,” she read from the card. “That won’t tear or become too sweaty while gardening.” She set aside the box without looking at it for longer than a moment. And I wondered if she preferred to have torn and sweaty hands, if the dirt and cuts were proof of her labor. Her joy.”

“Don’t forget that gardening often results in something pretty, but it involves getting one’s hands dirty along the way.” “And torn up by thorns,” I mused,”

“I didn’t dare mention that if she had been wearing the enchanted gloves Lucien had gotten her last Solstice, nothing would have pierced them at all.”

“He and Lucien did not exchange gifts, though the male had brought a gift for Feyre and one for his mate, who barely thanked him after opening the pearl earrings. Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing."

Not only is she visibly uninterested which is painful to watch, it also highlights how little he knows about her. SJM is creating a visible gap in their dynamic.

“The golden necklace seemed ordinary -- its chain unremarkable, the amulet tiny enough that it could be dismissed as an everyday charm. It was a small, flat rose fashioned of stained glass, designed so that when held to the light, the true depth of the colors would become visible. A thing of secret, lovely beauty. “It's beautiful," she whispered, lifting it from the box. ”

“My Nesta. Elain shall wed for love and beauty, but you, my cunning little queen … You shall wed for conquest.”

“I painted flowers for Elain on her drawer,” I said, sawing and sawing. “Little roses and begonias and irises. And for Nesta … ”

“She plucked another figurine from the mantel: a rose carved from a dark sort of wood. She held it in her palm, its solid weight surprising, and traced a finger over one of the petals. “He made this one for Elain. Since it was winter and she missed the flowers.”

“Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly. “It’s for the headaches everyone always gives you. Since you rub your temples so often.”

“I led her into the sitting room, where Cassian had a bottle of amber-colored liquor in each hand, Azriel was already rubbing his temples,”

“She hadn't bought her mate a present. But she'd gotten Azriel one last year -- a headache powder he kept on his nightstand at the House of Wind. Not to use, but just to look at. Which he'd done every night he’d slept there.”

“Azriel unwrapped the box, glancing at the card that merely said, You might find these useful at the House these days, and then opened the lid. Two small, bean-shaped fabric blobs lay within. Elain murmured, "You put them in your ears, and they block any sound. With Nesta and Cassian living there with you...”

See yet again a very thoughtful and funny gift on her part. Now at it's core even just simply comparing their general reactions says a lot about the story Sarah is putting forward.

"Silence again. Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed. I’d never heard such a sound, deep and joyous.”

“He chuckled, unable to suppress the impulse. "No wonder you didn't want me to open it in front of everyone."

Elain’s mouth twitched into a smile. "Nesta wouldn't appreciate the joke.”

“Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly."

"Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing."

“She hadn't bought her mate a present. "

The writing is nothing if not clear about the discomfort both Lucien and Elain feel in regards to each other, though they lay under different reasons.

We are given multiple incidents in which we are told about how mating bonds are not perfect and we are given clear examples of it repeatedly, about woman enduring out of obligation, and do not forget this is heavily discussed literally in regards to Elain and her circumstances.

“She’d been revealed as his mate, and endured the miserable union mostly from gratitude for her unharmed wings.”

“You said your mother and father were wrong for each other; Tamlin said his own parents were wrong for each other.” I peeled off my dressing robe. “So it can’t be a perfect system of matching. "

“She glowed with good health. Except … Her brown eyes were wary. Usually, that look was reserved for Lucien. The male was definitely in the family room,”

“Elain had already departed with Feyre, claiming she had to be up with the dawn to tend to an elderly faerie’s garden. Cassian didn’t exactly know why he suspected this wasn’t true. There had been some tightness in Elain’s face as she’d said it. Normally when she made such excuses, Lucien was around,”

“Elain, the wretch, had taken the seat between Feyre and Varian, about as far from Lucien as she could get.”

“That smile grew, bright enough that it lit up even Azriel’s shadows across the room. “I would like to build a garden,” she declared. “After all of this … I think the world needs more gardens.”

“Then his gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain’s breath caught slightly, and she gave him a shallow nod of greeting before brushing past, leading Nesta into the room.”

What if ”—I jerked my chin toward the window, to my sister and the shadowsinger in the garden—“that is what she needs? Is there no free will? What if Lucien wishes the union but she doesn’t?”

“Can you truly fly?” He set down his fork, blinking. I might have even called him self-conscious. He said, “Yes. Cassian and I hail from a race of faeries called Illyrians. We’re born hearing the song of the wind.” “That’s very beautiful,” she said. “Is it not—frightening, though? To fly so high?”

“ I couldn’t tell if she was looking at his blue Siphon or at his scarred skin beneath as she breathed, “Beautiful.” Color bloomed high on Azriel’s golden-brown cheeks, but he inclined his head in thanks and led my sister toward the back doors into the garden, sunlight bathing them.”

“This is Truth-Teller,” he told her softly. “I won’t be using it today—so I want you to.”

“Never, Rhys said from where he finished buckling on his own weapons against the side of the wagon. I have never once seen Azriel let another person touch that knife.”

The romantic subtext is there and has been for quite some time, they prove it book after book when SJM continues to grow their bond and nurture it whilst breaking her connection with Lucien further apart, and for what reason?

“A mating bond can be rejected,” Rhys said mildly, eyes flickering in the mirror as he drank in every inch of bare skin I had on display. “There is choice. And sometimes, yes—the bond picks poorly. Sometimes, the bond is nothing more than some… preordained guesswork at who will provide the strongest offspring. At its basest level, it’s perhaps only that. Some natural function, not an indication of true, paired souls.”

“Why not make them mates?” I mused. “Why Lucien?” [...]

“I’m serious.” I turned toward him and crossed my arms. “What decides it? Who decides it?” Rhys straightened his lapels before plucking an invisible piece of lint from them. “Fate, the Mother, the Cauldron’s swirling eddies …”

“What if the Cauldron was wrong?”

“Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.”

“The Cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it's possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another.”

It is remarkably interesting to me that we are told about what Rhys suspects/believes is responsible for mating bonds, paralleled alongside Azriel questioning it all, I also think it is abundantly clear from his answer to Feyre he doesn't truly know for sure.

We also have several lines of dialogue talking about the sisters and fate, their reason for entering the IC's life. Not only that but we get a glimpse at Azriel's personality and how despite the world (Rhys and the mating bond in general) telling him to despair, he still found it in him to have hope the Cauldron could be wrong.

This is so significant, and she has carefully woven his character throughout the series to make this incredibly plausible.

“If I had not met a shadowsinger, I would not have known that it is the family you make, not the one you are born into, that matters. I would not have known what it is to truly hope, even when the world tells you to despair.”

“And then he said to my sisters, “We have not known each other for long. But I have to believe that you were brought here, into our family, for a reason, too. And maybe today we’ll find out why.”

“All three sisters blessed by fate and gifted with powers to match your own.”

“Even after the bond is rejected, they see her as belonging to them. Sometimes they return to challenge the male she chooses for herself. Sometimes it ends in death. It is savage, and it is ugly, and it mercifully does not happen often, but …”

“Oh, I can, and I will. If Lucien finds out you're pursuing her, he has every right to defend their bond as he sees fit. Including invoking the Blood Duel.”

As you can see even back in ACOWAR she was weaving the web for Elriel's journey and an upcoming Blood Duel/The threat of one.

“Many mated pairs will try to make it work, believing the Cauldron selected them for a reason. Only years later will they realize that perhaps the pairing was not ideal in spirit.”

I think it is pretty clear from all the quotes above that Lucien is no her ideal spirit and vice-versa to be frank when you put it side by side his budding relationship with Vassa or hers with Azriel they are clearly very different.

“On the continent, there are territories that believe the females literally belong to their mate. But not here. Elain would have our full protection if she rejects the bond.”

“Azriel's hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain's mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut. Offer and permission. He nearly groaned with relief and need as he lowered his head toward hers. ”

Elain is choosing Azriel, choosing their bond over the one assigned to her time and time again... Back to mating bonds;

“The ancient healer jerked her chin toward Lucien. “See what he can do. If anyone can sense if something is amiss, it’s a mate.”

“The mating bond. It is a bridge between souls.”

"She pointed at Lucien as she saw herself out. “Try sitting down with her. Just talking—sensing. See what you pick up. But don’t push.”

“Can you hear mine?” He wasn’t sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, “No, lady. I cannot.”

Her too-thin shoulders seemed to curve inward. “No one ever does. No one ever looked—not really.”

"Azriel’s hazel eyes churned as he studied my sister, her too-thin body. And without a word, he winnowed away. Mor watched the space where he’d been standing long after he was gone.”

“Should we—does she need …?” “She doesn’t need anything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien.

Elain was staring at the spymaster now—unblinkingly. “We’re the ones who need …” Azriel trailed off. “A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.”

“It made sense, I supposed, that Azriel alone had listened to her. The male who heard things others could not … Perhaps he, too, had suffered as Elain had before he understood what gift he possessed.”

“But Azriel nodded. “You knew,” he said to Elain. “About the young queen turning into a crone.” Elain blinked and blinked, eyes clearing again. As if the understanding, our understanding … it freed her from whatever murky realm she’d been in.”

Are you telling me that Madja saying a mate would know, would sense whatever is going on with her, and as it turns out Azriel was the one to sense and uncover it is solely what, a coincidence? Also to emphasize what she said about "A bridge between souls..." Where else have we heard that terminology? The Truth-Teller scene.

“I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection … that knife.”

Not to mention this scene is simply iconic for a multitude of reasons, how poetic Feyre describes them, the clear soulmates/ying-yang subtext and him giving her something he has given no other but that's another story.

Azriel has also been displaying some very protective fiercely so mating vibes towards her,

“Azriel stilled. “What happened to Elain?” Cassian waved a hand. “A fight with Nesta. Don’t bring it up,” he warned when Azriel’s eyes darkened. ”

“Cassian surveyed the shadows gathered around Az. “You all right?” His brother nodded. “Fine.” But shadows still swarmed him.”

“Nesta saw the blow land, like a physical impact, in Elain’s face, her posture. No one spoke, though shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preparing to strike.”

“Azriel’s Siphons guttered, the stones turning as dark and foreboding as the deepest sea. “Where did Lucien go.”

I think there are some mixed opinions on Lucien and whether he deserves her (and vice-versa in this fandom) but I don't think that is what this comes down too, they are both handling it in the way they think best/following their instincts.

Lucien is hurting throughout this process as well, but I think ultimately it is honor and loyalty binding him to her not any genuine emotion for her as a human being fae. I think realising they are not meant for each other and supporting each other developing true bonds with other people will be their journey. And it would be a completely fresh and new view of a mating bond.

Smaller pieces of dialogue that need little explaining and a rather oddly specific choice of words in the latest book that is meant to set up the next one in the series:

“You’d know if she’d died,” Azriel said, pausing his work and looking up at Cassian. He tapped his brother’s chest with a scarred hand. “Right here—you’d know, Cass.”

“Elain and Feyre—that was the new status of things. The bond Elain had chosen.”

"I'd never do such a thing. you must be thinking of your other mate."

Honestly? At this rate I have no doubt Elriel are endgame and everything within canon text spells that out but I truly believe he will be her second mate/the will form a bond via some circumstance that shall arise due to these little hints.

I would love to hear your thoughts and/or additions because I by all means didn't do a massive deep dive and there are most likely tons more examples to add but I didn't want it to become overwhelming to read!

Hope everyone has a spectacular and magical evening <3

#elriel #elain archeron #azriel #elain x azriel #azriel x elain #acotar #acosf #acowar #acomaf #a court of thorns and roses #elriel mates #elriel theories #elriel metas #anti elucien #tb safe and all that #dont want it falling in the wrong tag #c

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erimeows · 3 years

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Yellow Roses

The first time was a learning experience.

Bumblebee had been innocent to the ways of human gift-giving back then, unsure of what to get or where to get it, but after using the internet and looking up where to buy gifts for humans, he found that there was a gift shop down the street from where the Autobot base was, and he begged and pleaded with Sari for some of her allowance money “for something important”.

He wasn’t sure what he wanted to get. What he was sure of, though, was that he was completely enamored with you and had been since day one- and he couldn’t bring himself to confess yet, but if he didn’t channel his feelings somehow, they were going to burst.

But as he approached the gift shop on that sunny day in Detroit, no other than Optimus Prime walked out and bumped into him. Thankfully, before he could fall back at the impact, Optimus reached out and caught him, placing him back on his feet with one strong servo.

“P-Prime, hey!” Bumblebee grinned and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible. He knew he wasn’t guilty of anything nefarious, per say, but he had no idea how Optimus would feel about him being in love with a human and wanting to buy gifts for said human with money that wasn’t his. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, nothing much...” The other Autobot blatantly lied and hid a bouquet of blue and gold flowers that Bee didn’t know the name of behind his back, face burning the brightest shade of red the smaller bot had ever seen it. “Are you looking for something in particular?”

“I don’t know, I mean, what do humans even like?” Bumblebee muttered without thinking, and upon seeing Optimus’s optics widen, he raised his servos defensively and shook his head. “I mean, uh-! Never mind! What’s up with the flowers?”

“Ah,” Optimus gave an awkward grin and held the flowers in front of him instead of continuing to hide them, probably realizing that it was too late and Bumblebee had already seen them. The younger bot wondered if they were for Optimus or for someone else, but he didn’t dare ask, only listening to his leader talk. “I learned that unlike some other organic planets, on earth, it’s considered rude to pick plants if they’re in close proximity to someone’s home or in front of a public building or park unless they’re a specific type called weeds, which flowers aren’t, but I wanted to buy some for someone, so I came here to pick them up after asking Sari about it. Are you gift buying, too?”

“Well, yeah, I guess you could say that,” Bumblebee looked away and held his forearm in one servo, anxiously shifting his weight between his stabilizing servos. It felt like him and Optimus Prime had reached into the cookie jar and caught each other.

Bumblebee didn’t dare ask who the flowers were for even though he was dying to know in fear that Optimus would ask who he was at the gift shop for in return. An uncomfortable silence fell onto them momentarily, both of them quiet and staring at each other with the noise of traffic and the bustling Detroit citizens walking on the pavement who kept passing by to keep them company.

“I’ve been doing some reading since Sari’s birthday is in a few months,” Optimus tried to continue the conversation and cleared his throat. “The customs for gift giving can involve about anything when it comes to human girls, but the most common are flowers, books, chocolates, jewelry, clothing, video games, or gifts of practicality, which just seem to be hygiene products and things they can use in their daily lives. Gift cards and vouchers with money on them are also common, but considered less personable, so I wouldn’t go that route if you’re close with the one you’re buying for unless they specifically ask for it.”

“Oh... I gotcha. Good ideas, bossbot!” Bumblebee smiled again, the corners of his lip-plates sore from how forced it was due to his nerves.

What if Optimus had figured it out? That would defeat the whole point of his plan; buy you nice things and leave them at your door in the middle of the night without his name attached. It was simple and easy, but if Optimus knew before he even got to try it?

Well. That made it a lot harder.

Thankfully, though, Optimus gave him a nod and bid him a good afternoon, then walked away.

Bumblebee found himself letting out a sigh of relief.

Thank Primus...

...Hours later, Bumblebee regretted all of his life decisions. He was sitting, holed up in his room with one audial pressed up against your wall. It was a terrible habit of his, but he eavesdropped on you pretty frequently when he heard bits and pieces of you talking through the wall, and he was doing it right now.

He wasn’t sure how he had expected it to go, but when he dropped the bouquet of yellow roses at your bedroom doorstep when you were out for lunch and no one was in the halls, he had hoped that you would simply take the flowers, appreciate them, and never say another word. However, you were currently telling Sari about it, which made sense considering that the young girl dropped by your room often and asked you to do her hair or makeup as an excuse to spend time with you- you were an adult, a lot older than Sari, but the two of you got along very well considering that you were the only one who actually knew how to take care of her properly when Isaac Sumdac wasn’t around.

“I have no idea!” You exclaimed, no doubt in reference to the flowers. Bumblebee cringed. What if Sari made the connection that the money he had borrowed from her was for that? What if she told everyone, or what if you told everyone, and Prime realized why he was at that gift shop and let his secret slip? “I can only assume it was you or one of the guys, but like... I don’t know who.”

“Yeah, I have no idea! It wasn’t me, I would’ve just given ‘em to you. We should dig deeper, (y/n)!”

Oh. Oh, Primus, no.

“I’m not sure, Sari, whoever it was probably dropped it off like that for a reason,” Bumblebee heard you sigh, and at the same time, he let out a sigh of relief. Maybe you would just forget about it and-

“Wait! Do you have a secret admirer!?”

Dammit. Maybe not.

“I... Highly doubt that, the only one I’d be interested in anyways is-” You started, and then cut yourself off in a way that made Bumblebee’s spark shatter and crumble into little pieces inside his chassis. You were single, but you were already into someone? What if it wasn’t him? He’d understand, of course- Prime was stronger, Prowl was smooth, Bulkhead was talented, and Ratchet was intelligent. Compared to them, he felt like he didn’t have much to offer you. Everyone around him was amazing, and he was just there, but... He loved you, and he wanted you to know how loved you were. So, whether you’d love him back or not, he’d keep giving everything he had to you; even if the way in which he went about it was indirect. “Actually, never mind, but your braids are done-”

“No, wait, you can’t just gloss past that!” Sari whined. Bee almost didn’t want to hear the rest of your discussion, but he couldn’t keep himself from listening. “Who is it, who is it!?

“Let’s just go play Animal Crossing in the living room, we can talk about all of that at a later date, yeah?” You offered, voice laced with both your amusement and confusion.

“Fine, fine, but you have to tell me soon! Pinky promise.”

“Fine, pinky promise. Now let’s go.”

Bumblebee heard your door open and close, followed by what he presumed to be you and Sari’s footsteps in the hallway. The sound eventually dissipated.

The Autobot was left to lay back on his berth and stare at the ceiling with a huff.

You were telling others about the gift he left, trying to get to the bottom of it, and you were into someone or somebot he didn’t even know about.

What had he gotten himself into?

The second time, he felt a little better about it. It was a week later and he hadn’t heard any discussion of the subject amongst the other Autobots, so he assumed nothing had come from it.

But, as he lounged on the living room couch, he jumped upon you sitting down on the couch’s arm- right by where his head was laid.

It made sense that he had been jumpier around you over the past few days. Part of it was the usual I’m-in-love-with-you-and-super-tense-about-it jumpiness that he had become accustomed to, but it was made worse by the fact that he was guilty; guilty of keeping a secret from you, of indirectly lying to you. He could’ve done it the one time with the roses and let it die down after, but when you’d talked about your old game controller breaking the night before at the dinner table, he hadn’t been able to help himself- he went and got it along with a new bouquet of yellow roses, left it in front of your room later that night, knocked, and ran away.

It was the next day, and understandably, he’d been anxious about it. It was better than the first time, but he was just hoping you wouldn’t talk about it.

Of course, he was never that lucky, and you looked at him with the controller literally in your hands.

“Hey, Bee, do you know anything about this?” You asked.

Had he been caught? Did you know? Or were you just trying to get information from him in case he knew something? Unsure, he decided to play it safe and act oblivious.

“Huh? What’s that?”

“I’m taking that as a no, but someone left this new controller on my doorstep with a bouquet of roses? I needed a new one, but I only mentioned it to you and the others, so I think it’s one of you guys... But this is the second time I’ve received a gift without any name on it and I’m really confused. I’ve done some asking around, but the only one who seems to know anything is Optimus, and he won’t give me any hints and insists that he has no idea what I’m talking about.”

Great. So, Optimus probably realized why Bumblebee had been at the gift shop last week. Well... From what you said, it sounded like Optimus was at least decent enough to stay out of his business and keep the secret for him- or try to, at least.

“Yeah? That’s weird, I don’t really know why he’d be like that about it... Wanna play Streetfighter?”

“Sure, but I’m just super confused, man,” You muttered, turning on the playstation and giving a frustrated huff. The game quickly turned on, and while Bee took the old controller, you connected your brand new one and chose your stage, your character being Akuma. Bee chose Ken to fight with and listened to you continue as the game started. “I thought the first time might’ve just been a one-off thing, but it’s happened again, and the flowers were one thing, but now it’s flowers and a new controller. Anyone else would be creeped out, and I’m not creeped out- more flattered than anything since I know it’s from you or one of the other Autobots- but this is really expensive... I’d at least like to be able to say thank you!”

“That makes sense, I think I’d feel the same way,” The black and yellow bot mumbled. The game had hardly started and he was already losing due to his inability to focus- it was so bad that he couldn’t even combat you when you crowded his character into the corner and kicked him over and over and over again. His health bar dropped to zero, signaling that you’d won round one.

Round two started, and he did a little better; actually jumping away from your cornering attempts and offering some blasts and punches, but by the time it ended, he’d only gotten you down to half health, and you were delivering your final blow. Ken fell to the ground, Akuma still standing.

You didn’t even press replay despite being player one. No, instead, you let out a huff and stared at the ceiling. Bumblebee found himself resting his helm against your thigh without thinking, enjoying the warmth against his faceplates. You two were best friends, very comfortable with each other and with physical affection, so you didn’t mind it, only running a gentle hand over one of his audials in return.

Both of you set your controllers down. It was obvious that both of you were so focused on the subject of your anonymous gifts that the game didn’t catch either of your interests like it usually would.

“I might try to ask Optimus about it again tomorrow... Information extraction,” You joked, but Bumblebee quickly sat up and objected.

“Wait, I don’t think that’s such a good idea!”

“Huh? Why not? He’s the only one who’s given me so much as a reaction,” You argued and stood up to turn the game system off, then started pacing around the room. “And I guess his eyes getting all wide ‘n stuff may have just been something else, but like... It’s all I’ve got to go on.”

“Yeah, but you know how the bossbot is,” Bee stood as well, trying his hardest not to look like he was in the midst of blowing a circuit from the panic that was currently taking over his processor. “He shuts down when you push him too hard. If he knows anything about it, you gotta wait for him to come to you with that sweet info.”

“You’re probably right, Bee, thanks for the advice,” You smiled, and then walked to him to put a hand on his shoulder plate. “I’m gonna go to bed, ‘kay? Goodnight.”

You looked into his optics, and oh Primus, he was gone; your eyes were such a beautiful shade of (e/c), and your smile was so beautiful, and you were so beautiful, and he was so in love-

Quickly, he realized that he was taking too long to respond, so he quickly stammered something out.

“G-Goodnight...”

And then, you left, swiftly turning and walking out of the living room.

Bumblebee found himself letting out a sigh of relief, but at the same time, he missed you desperately.

He wished he’d given you a hug goodnight.

And, as he stood alone in the dark living room, he thought back to how exactly he’d ended up in his current predicament; painfully in love with a human, giving them things without having the courage to do it face-to-face, life feeling like it was falling apart with every hour that passed without him being able to kiss you and tell you how much he loved you like he so desperately wanted to.

He’d loved you from the very start, and as bold as he was, he couldn’t bring himself to tell you- he was just too scared, but...

What if this was what finally gave it away...?

The third time was what ended up blowing his cover. He should’ve left it alone, and he had told himself that after the last time- it was far too close of a call when you talked about Optimus knowing something, and he was so obvious with his own emotions during that, too... He wouldn’t do it again.

But then, he was shopping with Sari that day and saw a (f/c) hoodie that was just your size and style, and he decided you had to had it. So, when Sari was distracted at a different store, he got the hoodie, along with a new notebook, some pens, and a stuffed bee. He bought the gifts for you and put them in a nice gift bag with some paper, then left them by your door and disappeared before anyone could see him.

He was sitting in the living room yet again. It was late at night, and though him and his team had spent most of that night playing board games and catching up with a movie playing in the background, they’d all went to bed hours ago, leaving him to think by himself.

He’d lost at every game; Uno, Monopoly, Candyland, Sorry, Cards Against Humanity, and Scrabble, all because he was staring at you the entire time.

Why couldn’t he just get over himself and confess already? It was selfish to keep hiding from you, because what if the one you’d mentioned being interested in was actually him? And even if it wasn’t him, was it fair for you to think that he saw you as a friend when he was secretly in love with you? Was it fair for you to keep receiving gifts and never knowing who they were from?

Speak of the devil, though- the second Bumblebee looked up from where he was standing in the middle of the room, you were leaning against the doorway, wearing the hoodie he’d bought you and a pair of pajama shorts. You looked sleepy with your (h/l) (h/c) hair a mess and your soft hands rubbing the bleariness out of your (e/c) eyes.

“Bee?” You mumbled.

“(y/n), where’d you just come from? You look tired! You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m tired, but I’m fine. I was in the hallway, kinda waiting for everyone else to go to bed so I could talk to you, but... It took me a minute to come in here.” Bumblebee walked towards you and raised his optical ridge. His spark sank to the floor because oh Primus, was this it? Was it finally happening?

“Oh, uh... Why do you need to talk to me alone? What’s up?”

You averted your gaze and gently grabbed one of his servos with your hand, holding it tightly. Bumblebee took a sharp intake. You were about to start talking, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for it.

“I know it’s you,” You confessed with a guilty smile. Bumblebee froze in place and cringed. “I feel bad, but my curiosity was killing me, so I asked around some more and did a lot of prying- Optimus seemed like he was hiding something when I talked to him about it, so I pried until he gave up and told me that he suspected it was you; that he’d seen you at a gift shop the day I got the first bouquet, that he’d seen you lingering in the hallways the past few times I’ve gotten something, etcetera. He gave me enough details that I pieced it together, so... Yeah.”

“Well, at least it’s out of the way,” Bumblebee laughed out loud, and surprisingly, you smiled back at him. This wasn’t how he wanted it to come out, but he wasn’t sure it would have come out at all if not for this. “Getting human money without a real job is hard! Glad I could at least confess without having to do it so much that I went bankrupt.”

“Bee...” You started again, peering up at him, but he felt like he wasn’t ready for what was going to happen next. Were you about to reject him? He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.

“Well, now that that’s done, I’m gonna go ahead and go to bed! I could use a really good recharge right about now-”

“Bee-” You cut him off with a pout and gripped his servo, obviously not done, but he only continued in hopes that you would give it up and let him escape the situation.

“Goodnight, (y/n)-”

“Bee!” You yelled and pulled him towards you by his wrist so you could get in his face. “For God’s sake, man, stop and listen to me talk for a second!”

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry! I just-” He tossed his hands up defensively, ready to spill his circuits out, only for you to cut him off.

“You don’t think I love you back, right? You’re such a dolt!” You exclaimed.

“What’s that supposed to mean!?” Bumblebee yelled back at you, processor only catching the insult before he thought back on ‘I love you back’ and froze. “...Oh. Sorry.”

“I mean I’ve loved you for months now! Even before I realized it, I think I would’ve been more than open to dating you at any point in time, I mean... You’re pretty great. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Well, uh-” Bumblebee stopped and took in a deep intake, then sighed and linked your fingers with his digits so he could hold your hand properly. The anxiety that had been building up over you for so long now was finally leaving his body and being replaced by relief.“I don’t know. I feel kinda stupid now.”

“C’mere,” You mumbled and wrapped an arm around him. He hugged you back, taking you into his arms and resting his chin on top of your head... He could get used to that. You were warm and soft as you relaxed your body against his and allowed yourself to be held. You let go of his servo in favor of curling your hands and arms up by his chest. “Thank you for the gifts. They were really sweet and I loved them all, so... I’ll be sure to return the favor.”

“Return the favor? This is more than enough to return the favor!” He grinned, only hugging you tighter. “I’ve always wanted to just, like, hug you like this-”

“You can kiss me, too, if you want,” You offered, which had him pulling back to look down at you, spark lit aflame.

“Really?” Bumblebee asked, just to be sure.

“Of course.”

There was a moment of silence; hesitance from both ends. It was true that, while both of you had been physically affectionate as friends, you’d never kissed, and Bumblebee had certainly never kissed a human. He’d been waiting for this moment for so long, but he had no idea what to do now that it was actually happening.

Thankfully, you took the initiative and wrapped your arms over his shoulders, hands on the back of his neck. You looked up at him one more time before standing on your tip-toes so you could gently press your lips against his. Bumblebee was frozen still for a moment as he processed your warm, soft lips against his cool metal plating, but after the tension faded, he found himself resting his servos on your hips and melted into it.

One kiss turned into many; again, again, and again, you moved your lips against his in a manner so intoxicating that he couldn’t get enough of it.

Eventually, though, you pulled away and smiled up at him, but now that he had gotten to kiss you like that, he couldn’t help but want more.

“I, uh... I’m not sure the favor has been returned yet,” Bumblebee averted his optics from your eyes, able to feel his spark beating faster. “I might need one more kiss just to be sure-”

You chuckled, cutting him off by leaning up again and sloppily pushing your lips against his- and, with that, he was gone.

#bumblebee #tfa bumblebee #tfa optimus prime #optimus prime #tfa #transformers animated #transformers #fanfiction #x reader #bumblebee x reader #fluff #bulkhead #tfa bulkhead #bumblebee is the simpiest simp #and we love him for it #king goes bzbzbzbzbz #haha totally not writing comfort content rn bc jenny jinya released a new comic no sir

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calaofnoldor · 3 years

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What’s Mine

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 7,595

Summary: The secret you and Sam are hiding from Dean is threatened by your inability to keep your hands off each other.

Warnings: 18+ no actual smut but plenty of implied smut, pre-smut, and smut adjacency lol, secret dating, enemies to lovers, jealousy and possessiveness (exhibited by both sam and reader), slight obsession with sam’s big ass hands (i blame this largely on @walkerboy290‘s glorious hand porn gif sets), and language

A/N: inspired by and written for @thinkinghardhardlythinking bc she’s been bugging me to write smut and using her birthday as a bargaining chip, so i hope you’re happy sai. happy (belated) birthday babe! i suppose in my subconscious need to truly honor you, this became the longest one shot i’ve ever written... that and this is now also a little birthday gesture for the brilliant and beautiful @sams-sass (damn your close birthdays!) even though she never asked for smut (if you hate it, i’ll write you something else!) happy birthday to you too, darling!

also written for @superbadassnatural‘s 333 badass followers celebration with the prompt “___ and I are together.” “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa.” and @writethelifeyouwant‘s 300 follower fic challenge with the prompt “All the pretty girls like Samuel” (both prompts are bolded in the fic) i’m sorry i’m so late! congratulations to both of you and thanks for letting me enter your challenges!

[basically i have a lot of people to blame for this disaster 😂]

Square Filled: Secret Dating for @spnfluffbingo and Enemies to Lovers for @girl-next-door-writes Make Me Feel Bingo

MASTERLIST

The waffles on your plate are surprisingly good for a sketchy, 50’s-themed diner, but unfortunately your attention is elsewhere. In fact, the two distinctly masculine voices behind you have been obnoxiously impairing your ability to savor the buttery, syrup-doused carbs since their owners sat down in the adjoining booth. It’s the topic of their discussion that disturbs you, and nips at your conscience until you realize you can no longer take off without imparting a few words to your oblivious colleagues.

Turning your head subtly to the side, you try to catch a glimpse of the men you’re about to confront in your peripheral vision. From what you can see, they’re both rather burly, a little rough around the edges, and from what you’ve heard, recklessly cocksure. You know the type all too well. Being a lone hunter of the fairer sex for most of your life means you’ve long since learned that the best way to combat their kind is with a steadfast façade of thick skin and unwavering confidence.

So you sigh and put on your best smile before turning around, crossing your forearms along the top of the booth seat, “Listen fellas, I hate to interrupt, but I really wouldn’t bother with the bamboo dagger and Shinto priest if I were you.”

“And who the hell are you?” the one with shorter hair demands. He’s a bit stockier than his companion and has a face that looks like it was designed by Abercrombie and Fitch - well that explains the arrogance.

“I’m the person who’s about to save your asses evidently,” you respond with a smug grin, trying not to let their absurdly good looks deter your act.

Abercrombie’s partner, the Fabio wannabe, releases a quiet scoff, “And how are you gonna do that?” he questions dubiously.

“By letting you in on a little secret…” Throwing him a tight smile, you lean forward and lower your voice, “That ōkami you’re after? It’s not an ōkami, it’s a ghoul.” Sitting back, you await the outrage.

“What?! But that’s not possible, I checked the lore. And it’s obviously got a type.” Fabio’s glossy chestnut locks fall across his delicate features as he shakes his head in disbelief, and you almost snort out loud. How did this amateur expect to hunt with hair like that?

You look him over, taking in the broad shoulders and muscled arms, as well as the obvious height advantage he’s got over Abercrombie even whilst they’re both seated. To be honest, you’re surprised he’s referencing lore at all. Guys his size always assume they can either outman or outgun whatever obstacles cross their path, and they almost never take women like you seriously, despite your ample years of acquired knowledge and invaluable experience. It’s this experience that surmises a bit of antagonism here is inevitable, so you might as well get a head start.

“Yeah well maybe you should check again, big guy,” you glance down at his hands, your first mistake as their sheer size render you speechless and subsequently agitated at yourself for the momentary lapse of visceral lust, but the show must go on, “Make sure those giant, lumbering hands of yours don’t fumble over anything important or you might miss the connection to Isabelle Harding. You see it’s not ‘a type’; it’s revenge.”

“Wh- Bu- I looked through the files. I wouldn’t have missed that,” Fabio insists.

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you type ‘Isabelle Harding’ and ‘1987 school bombing’ into your search bar and see what comes up?” you gesture towards the laptop on their table with a raised brow. Minutes later, both men are dumbfounded by the revelation on the screen, staring between it and you with their mouths agape.

You chuckle silently at their faces, “Don’t worry, there’s no need to thank me. Although you rookies might wanna go home and let the more experienced hunter finish up here.” As you’re about to bid them farewell, you dip back in to add, “Oh and a word of free advice, maybe don’t discuss supernatural monsters quite so loudly in public spaces next time. It might invite unwanted attention.”

With that, you turn around and slap some cash down next to your unfinished waffles, before grabbing your jacket and strutting out the door.

Sam is left in utter confusion. The sudden animosity you had spouted his way seems completely baseless and unwarranted. Had he somehow offended you? Sam generally considers himself a highly respectful and fairly easy-going guy, not quite as hot-blooded as his brother, and thus not as likely to provoke such antipathy from a complete stranger. To make matters worse, he certainly can’t deny that something about you had registered within his subconscious as inexplicably attractive, despite the way you’d embarrassed him. In his flustered and slightly aroused state, it had been all he could do to remain awestruck in his seat and stare blatantly at your ass as you walked away.

The next time Sam sees you is only twelve hours later and no less humiliating. You’re mid-swing in the killing blow against what you had accurately predicted to be a ghoul as he and Dean tumble in. Despite the low lighting, Sam is once again stupefied by your raging beauty, augmented by the incredible skill you’re displaying in a much more physical sense this time around. Before he can drag his eyes away, there’s a collective shout of “watch out!” and suddenly you’re right in front of him. In a blur of events, you somehow manage to push Sam out of the way and successfully decapitate the unexpected second ghoul that had been sneaking up behind him, with only a slice across the arm to show for it.

“Didn’t I tell you two to go home?” You’re panting from the exertion and Sam’s gaze lands on the neckline of your shirt, skewed from the fight and revealing a good amount of cleavage. He quickly averts his eyes. What is happening? Sam can’t remember the last time anyone had evoked such a staggering reaction from him. He feels as if he’s a mere spectator in his own body.

Across from him, you press your hand against the wound and curse when it comes back covered in blood. At your groan of pain, Sam finally finds his voice again, “Shit. I’m so sorry! I don’t know how I missed that other one. I- that normally doesn’t happen.”

“Yeah, I bet that’s what you say to all the girls, huh?” you reply offhand, still a bit out of breath.

It’s easy for Sam to dismiss your mocking given that he feels terribly guilty for being the cause of your injury. From where he’s standing, the cut looks deep. “Here, at least let me stitch it up for you. It’s too awkward a position for you to do it yourself,” he offers, holding out his ginormous hands to you like he’s waving a white flag.

“I think you’ve done enough damage for one day, haven’t you, big guy? At this point, I’d rather Abercrombie over there be the one behind the needle.”

“Who- what?” are the first words Dean speaks since the action has died down.

You turn to face the shorter guy, “Oh don’t look so surprised. You might as well be the model for a slightly older Ken doll. Are you up for it or not?”

Dean’s mouth hangs open as he tries to determine whether he should feel flattered or insulted.

“Uh- actually, I’m better at stitches than my brother,” Sam butts in.

“With those jumbo, fumbling hands? Yeah, sure you are, big guy,” you decline skeptically.

“It’s Sam,” he states through a clenched jaw.

“OK, Sam. Since I just saved your life, you mind making yourself useful and burning those bodies while your bro puts my arm back together? You know, as a ‘thank you’ perhaps?”

Sam is stunned for the third time that day. No one has ever belittled him (whilst gratuitously attacking his size) insofar without any apparent reason. It seems as though his very existence upsets you and the arbitrariness of your contempt has caused an anger to stir beneath him, but beyond that lies bewilderment and irritation. How had he managed to accomplish two such massive mistakes in front of you in the span of so short a time? Perturbed and bitter, Sam silently sets to work on the bodies.

Meanwhile, you’ve come to a surprising realization as Dean begins to cut the fabric of your flannel away from your damaged arm, the name ‘Sam’ and the words ‘my brother’ resounding in your head, “Wait a second- there’s no way… you’re not… the Winchesters, are you? Sam and… Dean?”

“The one and only, sweetheart.” He sends you a dazzling smile that is as perfect as you’d expect, but within his eyes is an underlying poignancy that you recognize as clear as day: an indication of a traumatic past and a lifetime spent plastering on tough veneers. You notice as well how gentle his touch is and how his stitches are practiced and prudent. Perhaps you had judged him too hastily.

Through an incredulous chuckle, you retort, “Well I can’t say I didn’t expect more from you, but at least this’ll get me a free round of drinks at the hunters’ pub tonight.”

Dean laughs with you before sobering at the thought of how his baby brother must be feeling, “Hey listen, take it easy on Sammy, alright? I don’t know what’s gotten into him today but he’s not usually like this. He’s actually the smart one, believe it or not.”

Scoffing, you can’t help but smile back at Dean and soon find an easy rhythm with the older Winchester, despite your awkward introduction.

From several yards away, however, Sam looks wistfully back to see you smiling lightheartedly at something Dean’s said, the two of you huddled in close proximity as his brother’s hands drift across your bare skin. Something akin to envy bubbles within his chest although he’s aware it makes no sense, so with a frown, Sam does his best to shake it off and get back to work.

But it’s not easy to forget you. And just as Sam is beginning to think he’s rid that awful day from his memory, you pop back into his life three months down the line.

“Well, if it isn’t the overgrown hunter extraordinaire Sammy Winchester.” The sarcasm that oozes from your otherwise beguiling voice has him gritting his teeth in no time.

“It’s Sam.”

“So you here to mess up my hunt again, Sam?”

Although he wishes he could have been the bigger man instead of surrendering to the resentment you roused within him, after a couple repeated hatchet burying attempts fall through, Sam just can’t resist the little game you’ve started.

Over the next few months, you and Dean form a fortuitously close bond and the older Winchester develops a habit of calling you up when faced with a troublesome hunt, and vice versa. Despite Sam’s fabricated displeasure, a show he puts on mostly for Dean (since any other emotion would seem illogical given the way you treat him), Sam is peculiarly and begrudgingly excited to see you every time. But the match never ends. In fact, Sam lets it intensify each time you work together, always astounded by how you manage to get him so worked up.

“I’m telling you, it’s a rugaru!”

“Right, because the last time we listened to you, things worked out so well,” you remark sardonically.

“The lore says-“

“Ooh, quoting the lore again now are we, Mr. Know It All?”

At this point, Sam is about as huffy and puffy as the big bad wolf and if he were a cartoon character, there’d surely be steam erupting from his ears. “Look, Y/N, this isn’t about who knows more or who’s right; this is about saving those people’s lives!”

“You think I don’t know that? Was I not the one who saved your life the first time we met?”

“OK, alright, just shut up you two!” Dean finally shouts above you, “Would it kill you to just get along for two seconds?”

“No,” Sam admits.

“Probably,” you say at the same time, causing Sam to shoot you his overly perfected bitch face.

SIX MONTHS LATER

“What the fuck?!” Dean’s booming voice echoes throughout the bunker and moments later you and Sam come flying into the kitchen to answer his call, guns at the ready.

“What? What is it?” you ask while Sam scans the room.

A whimper is the only the way to describe the sound of Dean’s reply, as he points toward an unseen object on the floor. Edging toward him, you lower your gun in the direction of his finger until you discover the source of Dean’s distress.

With a sigh, you look toward Sam who is also exhaling in relief at the sight of the entity in question. The two of you share a moment of wordless conversation before simultaneously dropping your guns with a conclusive nod.

“Why does this feel like déjà vu?” Dean’s tone is still timid and appalled, and you nearly laugh at the idea of a grown-ass man looking so aghast because of a used condom.

“Because it kinda is…” you supply unhelpfully, earning yourself a small glare from the man beside you.

“Dean,” Sam begins with a deep breath, “There’s something we have to tell you… Y/N and I are together.”

The snort that escapes Dean is full-bodied and borderline psychotic, “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa!”

You wait till his snickering subsides, “No, it- it’s true.” Your voice is hesitant yet hopeful, “We’re not joking. We’ve kinda become… a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, well you know, I don’t wanna have to put a label on it or-“

“Y/N’s my girlfriend,” Sam declares with conviction as he reaches out to curl his long fingers around your waist and lasso you towards him.

“-Buuuut, that is the one I’d use if anyone asks,” you quickly affirm with a stiff pat to your boyfriend’s abdomen, wincing at the unversed attempt of PDA and missing the dimpled grin that crosses Sam’s amused features.

“Well, I don’t buy it. I don’t believe either of you.” Dean’s sturgeon face comes on strong as he shakes his head and points a challenging finger at you, “Kiss him, right now,” he dares with perked brows.

The eye roll you respond with is so dramatic your entire head moves with it. But then, without a moment of pause, you turn your body into Sam’s, reach up to grab the back of his neck and pull him down for a searing kiss. Now this is something you’re well-versed in. The reunion of your lips starts off relatively slow, but it doesn’t take long to escalate into something more fiery that involves tongue, the eager push and pull movements of your bodies, and Sam’s enormous hands cradling your head.

After a moment of shock, Dean objects, “Alright, alright, I get it! That’s enough of that!”

Unwilling to recede just yet, you linger in the kiss for a little longer, delaying your separation by nibbling down on Sam’s lower lip and tugging gently, only releasing it as you pull away torturously slow. When the two of you finally open your languid eyes, it’s to stare into each other’s dilated pupils and ponder the moment for an indiscernible minute.

“What th- I said, I get it! Now could please stop ogling each other before my lunch comes back out the wrong way?!”

But the way Sam’s smiling at you is addictive and you can’t bring yourself to look away until he forces a break by leaning in to plant a tender kiss upon your forehead before tucking you into his side as he faces his brother again.

Dean’s face is covered by his hand, “I’m gonna need a minute. I just-“ His features leap through a range of expressions as he tries to find the right words, “When the hell did this start anyway? I thought you two couldn’t stand each other?”

“Yeahhh, that was mostly an act. Although we bought it at first too,” you explain with a shrug.

“We weren’t pretending the whole time. It just kind of happened and we didn’t really know how else to act around each other by then,” Sam adds.

“Right, basically it turns out there’s a fine line between love and hate... and that line is hardcore yearning.” Your words bring a chuckle to Sam’s lips but his brother still looks out of sorts.

Shaking his head with closed eyes, Dean sighs, “Alright, can someone just explain to me exactly how this happened, because I’m still not computing here. But spare me the details and try to keep it PG-13,” he emphasizes with adamant hand gestures.

“How do you know it’s not PG-13?” you inquire with a held-back laugh.

“Ha. With the way you two were playing tonsil hockey just now, I can tell you’ve been around the bend way more than I wanna know. My little brother doesn’t kiss like that on the first date.”

It’s impossible to hold back a giggle at the memory of your ‘first date’ and the way Sam had kissed you, “OK well, that would be hard, considering the story involves a lot of sex... You wanna give it a go, big guy?” you pass the ball over to Sam with a quirked brow and lowered voice, to which he responds with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, a little warning glance that you’re well aware means ‘save it for the bedroom’ but you simply smirk up at him.

‘Big guy’ used to be a term you called Sam in contempt, but when the feelings between you evolved and a sexual relationship developed, it became an innuendo, such that calling him ‘big guy’ in front of Dean or in public almost always results in glorious sex. In fact, sometimes you believe the nickname has held a slightly obscene connotation for you since the beginning.

Afterall, your carnal longing for him has been present from day one, although at the time you had believed it to be purely physical. Sure, you had dreams about having him in various positions in your bed, but you figured those were merely betrayals of your subconscious mind. That was until one day, a heated argument in a rare moment alone had ended up in a violent make out session, after which the two of you had just barely gotten the last of your clothes back on before Dean walked in. One look at your worked up and frenetic states alongside the disordered condition of your surroundings, and he immediately assumed you’d been fighting again (which wasn’t terribly far from the truth), chortling as he asked if you would have killed each other had he returned a bit later.

With a clearing of his throat, Sam begins to recount the tale, “Uh, well it started in that motel in South Carolina, while you were out getting food…”

“Look, all I’m saying is there is no way he’s using the hospital as a dump site! It’s just not feasible!”

With complete disregard for the peace and quiet of the other residents within this thin-walled motel, you and Sam once again find yourselves in a shouting match.

“Oh right, I forgot! You’re Sam Winchester! How could you POSSIBLY be wrong?! Mister ‘look at me, my IQ and LSAT score match my fucking height! Oh and I also happen to have the physique of an Adonis without even owning a gym membership!’” you roar bitterly, gesticulating with your hands to help better communicate your pent-up indignation.

“Right and you’re Y/N Y/L/N, so how could YOU possibly be wrong? Miss ‘look at me, I never went to college but I’m a genius AND I can kick ass! Oh and I also happen to look effortlessly stunning through it all!’” Sam suddenly seems bigger than ever as he towers over you, that panty-soaking deep voice emanating from his diaphragm and infusing itself throughout the entire room until all you can see, hear, and breathe is Sam.

The fury takes over and you don’t notice your feet taking you closer to him, “Oh yeah because you don’t make EVERYTHING you do look so unnecessarily hot and make me wanna rip your clothes off all the damn time!”

“Fuck! And you don’t always drive me crazy when we have these stupid arguments and your chest starts heaving and you look so insanely delectable I just wanna pick you up and fuck you against the closest surface!” By now, the distance between you is essentially nonexistent and your brain is no longer run by reason.

“So why don’t you then?” are your famous last words, prompting Sam to grab you wildly by the back of a thigh, lifting slightly and driving you to climb up him like a spider monkey fleeing from a grounded predator, while his other hand pushes your hair aside to gain better access to your face. Your mouths clash in a fierce battle and before you know it, Sam’s huge hands are cupping your ass as your legs wrap around his waist and you rut into him, hands flying from his shoulders to his hair. Those divine chestnut locks that you’ve always dreamed of running your fingers through. They’re somehow even softer than you imagined and the revelation, in conjunction with the way Sam’s tongue is becoming increasingly aggressive causes a fresh surge of libidinous energy to rocket through you. As a result, you give his silky strands an irresistible tug and drink in the moan he makes, the sinful sound reverberating straight down to your core as you clench around nothing.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam groans as he grudgingly forces himself to pull back as much as he can, “Are you sure? Is this what you want? Cause I can’t- Y/N I won’t be able to stop myself if we keep going.” His eyes squeeze shut as if the notion of stopping or the act of keeping his lips away from yours is causing him genuine pain, and the entire gesture moves you.

“Fuck, you really are the opposite of everything I thought you would be,” you make a quick mental note to apologize later for your initially presumptuous behavior although you can’t find it within yourself to feel any remorse right now, “Yes, please Sam, fuck me. I want you so bad… I think I have since we met and I saw those gorgeous hands of yours,” you confess, biting your lip lightly.

Sam breathes out a low incredulous laugh, “What, these?” he asks, removing one of the aforementioned hands away from your butt to bring it into your line of vision.

“Yes, fuck they’re so big and beautiful and strong and-“

“Alright, I don’t need to know about your weird hand fetish!” Dean hollers abruptly, rubbing his fingers across his eyes as if he could somehow erase the image of you and his brother together out of his retinas. “OK, but that was like… four months ago. You mean you’ve been sneaking around behind my back this whole time?”

“Well at first we didn’t want to tell you because we weren’t even sure what it was ourselves,” you divulge.

“Yeah, we didn’t want to try to explain something that we didn’t understand yet,” Sam supplements, hoping his brother will understand the motive behind your secrecy.

You nod along, “But then… it got a little harder to hide.”

The apprehension behind Dean’s emerald eyes is unmistakable as he reluctantly inquires, “That’s why this felt like déjà vu?”

It’s with a grimace that you reply, hesitantly, “Remember the time you found those panties in the backseat of the Impala?”

Dean’s eyes grow comically wide and Sam ducks his head in preparation of what’s to come.

“Yeah, there’s a story behind that…”

The click of her heels against the porcelain-tiled foyer irritates you as the three of you stride through her front door. You’re posing as detectives sent to question this overdressed young woman about her late husband, but the moment she lays her eyes on Sam, you reckon she’s forgotten her beloved’s damn name.

“Oh my… lord and savior. Well aren’t you a tall drink of water?” she beholds breathlessly with a seductive bite of her painted ruby lips.

You cough loudly and Dean sniggers, thinking you’re annoyed about Sam getting such commendation and attention during a serious case.

“I know this might be the grief talking, but I would climb you like a tree,” she purrs, sauntering up to Sam with an exaggerated sway of her hips. With her half-lidded doe eyes adorned with dark, fluttery lashes and low, sultry voice, you have to admit she’s quite attractive.

Grinding your teeth as your nails dig into your palms, you glower at the woman unreservedly. She, however, takes no notice, running her hands along Sam’s forearms before gripping at his bicep to lead him toward her living room. “Please, come have a seat, detective. You can ask me whatever you want.” The wink she appends is somehow the final nail in the coffin.

It’s with zero hesitation that you feign the reception of a notification on your phone before declaring, “Oh would you look at that, the uh… Sheriff needs us back at the station, Sam. He says it’s urgent.” You try to keep your tone even, thankful that you all maintained your real first names for these aliases, “Dean, you’re good to conduct this interview on your own, right?” Without waiting for an answer, you trample over to snatch Sam’s other arm and ignoring the horny widow’s gaping mouth, proceed to haul him away.

Dean sends you a strange look but relents, “Uh, yeah I guess, OK.”

As soon as the door closes behind you, your hand shifts down to lace your fingers with Sam’s, marching him towards the Impala with a staunch and mighty purpose. Even Sam’s elongated legs stumble to keep up.

“So uh… when did you give the Sheriff your number?” There’s an edge in his voice that normally disappears when it’s just the two of you.

“Wha- I didn’t. Sam, I just made all that up,” you tell him as you reach the car and open its back door. Pushing Sam inside, you climb in swiftly after him, wasting no time as you straddle his thighs and begin to undress him, only pausing when he looks up at you in adorable, puppy-like confusion.

“Wait, what? Then what are we doing?”

That’s when it finally dawns on you, “Hold on a sec, were you… jealous?” You can’t help but smile, finding it amusing that he’s stewing in his own envy after what you just witnessed.

“No, I just- He was kinda all over you this morning.”

“You mean like the way Mrs. My-Husband-Just-Died-But-I-Wanna-Climb-You-Like-a-Tree was in there?”

“Oh, that’s what this is about?” Sam perks up, the hint of a smug grin ghosting across his lips.

“She was practically holding your hand!”

“That’s what bothered you the most?” He dips his head to catch your eyes and those variegated irises burn into you with an intense, questioning gaze, alight with mischievous curiosity.

“They’re my hands to hold,” you contend with a pout, subconsciously clenching your thighs around his as you seize one of his large hands with two of your much smaller ones, “Just like you’re my tree to climb.”

Sam’s head falls back in bright laughter, “I thought you said they were ‘oversized’ and ‘ungainly’?” he teases, quoting your previous slights.

“You know I only said that cause Dean was there.”

“I’m pretty sure you called them ‘fumbly’ and ‘lumbering’ the first time we met.”

Staring at his fingers as you play with them, you shiver at the memory of how they feel all over you. “That was cause I used to think all hunters with a Y chromosome were cocky, misogynistic assholes who needed to be knocked down a peg or two.”

“But I proved you wrong, right?”

“Fuck yes you did. So, so wrong. And now you’re mine, and I don’t like seeing other people touch what’s mine,” you growl before returning to your earlier task of removing his clothes, pouncing on him when your fingers finally land on bare skin. You kiss him fiercely, swallowing his surprised grunts with glee, and as his hands start travelling from your hips up to your back, holding you tight against him, your lips move down to his pulse point, sucking, licking, and nibbling, “Mine.”

“Fucking Jesus Christ on a cracker! You goddamn rabbits!” Dean squawks in protest as he begins to pace the floor, “Have you no decency?! And in my poor Baby! While I was busy doing all the work, saving lives!”

You roll your eyes at his melodramatics and can feel the tension in Sam’s abdominal muscles as he attempts to restrain his laughter. As if Dean had never taken a break during a case for a stress-relieving quickie before, or hadn’t been at least somewhat grateful to be left alone with a beautiful woman.

His next comment confirms your point, “Although, if I remember correctly that lady was a fox.” After a brief pondering pause and an introspectively appreciative smirk, Dean’s whining resumes, “But seriously! I can’t believe you two! Here I was feeling bad for forcing you to work and live together, hoping you’d eventually learn to get along when this whole time you were shacking up like animals and casually defiling my Baby just because what? Some girl touched Sam’s hand?!”

Feeling emboldened by the catharsis of this long-overdue airing of your dirty laundry, you decide to add to Dean’s exasperation, “Yeah and in the spirit of honesty, that might’ve happened more than once.” Sam tries to hold back his snort as he gives your hip a playful cautionary squeeze while Dean’s feet come to a full stop as he turns to give you a death glare. “Hey, it’s not my fault all the pretty girls like Samuel! And I’m pretty sure we wiped her down after.”

“I don’t even-“ Dean purses his lips and quirks his head with a dynamic expression of unbearable vexation, “You better be getting me pie every day of the week for what you did.“ He takes a deep breath before circling back, “Wait, OK so you’re telling me that a used condom ended up in our kitchen because- what? You two couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough to find a bed? You know what, forget I asked. I don’t wanna know. Did you at least sanitize the place after?? No, of course you didn’t, you left a fucking condom on the floor… I think I’m gonna throw up.”

But you hardly hear Dean’s rambling because you and Sam are far too wrapped up in each other, smiling as you recall the events of that morning.

Your eyes slowly drift open to find the most exalting sight in all the world: Sam Winchester’s sleeping face, blissful and serene. Lifting a hand to gingerly cup his cheek, the corners of your mouth curl up when he leans into your touch. It’s moments like this that make you wish you could wake up next to him every morning.

Only after you’ve traced his every feature and planted a soft kiss where his dimple would be if he were awake and smiling, do you carefully peel yourself from his side, slipping out of his hold as you quietly climb out of bed. Sam rolls over a bit and you freeze with bated breath, watching as his big arm extends out in your direction as if trying to reach for you in his sleep, before stilling again.

Mornings like this are rare and you want him to soak up all the restful sleep he can. Once you’re sure you haven’t woken him, you scan the room for something to cover your naked figure, until your eyes land on the flannel he’d worn the night before. Picking it up, you bring it to your nose and inhale deeply to revel in the residual scent of Sam. Another glimpse at his peaceful, sleeping form has you smiling fondly. God, you are such a goner for that man. It’s becoming hard to reserve your soft looks toward him for private moments alone.

You can barely remember how it happened, but over time, you’d come to learn that Sam is nothing like you originally imagined him to be. He’s kind-hearted and open-minded, the type of soul that can find hope and beauty in even the darkest of places, a far cry from the shallow macho man silhouette you’d expected him to fill. In fact, Sam routinely defies the expectations others have enforced upon him, proving his worth time and time again as he’s persisted through some of what must be the toughest challenges to ever face a single human. Yet through it all, his spirit remains intact, never once yielding to cynicism or resentment or apathy or even the building of walls as you and Dean have resorted to. He is truly the bravest man you know and infinitely more competent than your first fluke of a hunt with him had mistakenly suggested, both in the field and in bed.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you wrap yourself in plaid and head out the door. Dean never questions your use of Sam’s shirts because ever since Sam firmly insisted on giving you his flannel after your second encounter with them resulted in Dean cutting your own top apart, you’ve grown into a habit of borrowing Sam’s clothes. You always claim they’re more comfortable than your own and Sam’s feigned annoyance over you ‘stealing’ his belongings tides Dean right over.

Half an hour passes before Sam approaches the bunker kitchen to find you with your back towards the entrance, busy prepping breakfast in nothing but his plaid. He pauses in the doorway to stare at you for a minute, licking his lips with an irrepressible smile. For some, this may seem like a stereotypical morning after, but for a couple of hunters, it feels like a dream come true.

After finally returning to the bunker last night following the completion of a series of successful hunts, you’ve got no solid obligations and very little on your to-do lists today, although Sam’s got more than a few ideas about how to pass the time, and a couple more come to mind when you stretch up on your toes to reach for something, causing the hem of his shirt to glide up until its corner reveals just slightest hint of your incredible ass. Sam can’t suppress his little grunt of approval, which catches your attention and makes you turn your head, peering back at him over your shoulder.

You smirk at the blessed view of him standing there in nothing but the pair of thin grey sweatpants you’d bought him a month ago when you discovered the viral online phenomenon, “Hey, big guy. You just gonna stand there and gawk or do you wanna make yourself useful and grab another plate from the top shelf?”

Chuckling at your false animosity, Sam stalks toward you, “Good morning to you too.” One of his vast hands falls upon your hip as he presses the maximum possible length of his body into your back side, while his other hand reaches up over your head to snatch the plate you’d asked for.

“Good morning indeed,” you concur with a silent gasp when you feel the generous bulge in his pants.

“Oh that’s not morning, baby girl,” Sam husks into your ear, “That’s all you.” His powerful arms slink around you and his lips find their way down the side of your neck, lingering in that tender spot just behind your ear whilst you tilt your head and close your eyes, contentedly surrendering yourself to the moment. “I ever tell you how good you look in my shirts?”

Wiggling your butt back to tease him a bit, you’re pleased with the hiss it elicits. “No, but you made it very clear how bad I look in Dean’s,” you counter playfully.

The man behind you scoffs, “I didn’t say you looked bad; you could never look bad. I just… don’t like seeing you wear his clothes.”

“Oh, I know,” you turn around in his arms, “I just don’t understand how Dean doesn’t know yet. I mean, I think you’ve been very obvious.”

“And you haven’t?”

“I’m not the one who leaves hickeys in very visible places all over your body!”

Sam’s eyes glaze over in lust, an idea clearly forming in his head as he glances down at you. “Dean’s a hot-blooded guy; he needs to know you’re off-limits,” he alleges before attacking your throat with his mouth.

“So why don’t we just tell him?”

Without pausing his efforts, Sam reminds you, “Because you said you thought it was kinda hot, all the sneaking around. Mmpf, and because you said you wanted to see how long it would take him to figure it out.”

You nod while running your fingers through his silken strands and leaning back to give him more purchase, “That’s true. But in my defence, we always have this conversation when we’re doing stuff like this and I can’t think straight when your hands and mouth are on me.”

“Kinda like how I can’t think straight when you’re wearing nothing but my shirt?” His kisses travel down from your neck to your collarbone and shoulder as he slides his loosely buttoned flannel off to one side, “Fuck, you’ve got me so hard.”

Without warning, Sam seizes your waist and hoists you into the air as if gravity were an absolute joke, before plopping you down on the edge of the steel counter, his thumbs digging lightly into your ribcage.

“Sam! This is where we eat!” you protest with a laugh.

“Exactly. Which is why I’m gonna devour you here.” He dives back into your neck, continuing his work on a little pink mark that’s already beginning to form.

“Oh fuck… Wait, what if Dean walks in?” It’s through a great struggle that you manage to push him back an inch.

“He’s got a date with the Impala. He’ll be in the garage all day, trust me.” Sam’s gaze sweeps over your body suggestively, “Now are you gonna let me taste what’s mine?”

With an equally lewd survey of his extensive frame, you reply, “As long as you let me impale myself on what’s mine later.”

His eyes darken and the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only person he’s ever wanted ignites a confidence within you, so in a rather swift motion, you grasp him by the shaft through his sweatpants – the delicious groan he emits at your touch is enough to turn your pussy into a slip and slide – and pull him back towards you until the clothed length of him is resting against your folds and your noses brush, while his hands settle naturally on your thighs.

Shivering, your breath stutters and for an instant you can do nothing but bask in the closeness of him. Sam seems to enjoy it too because he closes his eyes as he rests his forehead against yours with an elated sigh. For the second time today, you marvel at his beauty, whispering a string of gasping kisses along his lower eye socket and exquisite cheekbone, simply dying to breathe him in. All of him is so immaculate and sublime. Each time the two of you reconvene, you want to savor every fucking inch of him, but there are a lot of inches, so the task often overwhelms you. Still, you must try. Locking your ankles behind him, you use your legs to pull him even further into you and the friction makes you lose your mind.

“Fuck, baby girl, you keep that up I’ll be making a mess in my pants,” Sam grunts with his lips upon your cheek.

Your breathless laughter fills the air, thinking of the stain you've undoubtedly already left on his charming grey sweatpants. Nimble as he is, Sam takes advantage of your open mouth and plunges his tongue inside. After so much preamble, the kiss is heavy and full of need. When the pressure of his lips pushes your head back, your hands fly to his wrists for the sake of your balance.

From there, they journey upward across his vascular forearms to his bulging triceps, fondling his massive shoulders before sliding along his traps and up the gorgeous length of his perfect neck, until you finally reach the treasure trove of his impeccable locks. You tangle your fingers into the lush mane and yank, gently but zealously, making Sam growl into your mouth. His voice is the hottest thing you’ve ever heard and the sounds he makes always drive you insane.

Never breaking the kiss, Sam’s colossal moose paws roam up to your back as he slowly lays you down on the counter, his member somehow still notched at your entrance and the new angle rousing a quiet moan from you. When he ultimately pulls away, you pitch forward to chase after his lips, but Sam only grants you a devilish grin and a quick peck to the corner of your mouth before moving down to your jaw and neck. While one palm kneads at your breast through his shirt, the other begins pushing and pulling at fabric to uncover more of your skin for his wandering lips.

“Sam! Augh!” you cry out as your head falls back.

“I got you, baby. I’m all yours. Gonna make you feel so good.” As if to attest his words, he rolls his hips into yours and a needy whimper escapes you. With your fingers still twisted in his hair, Sam leaves no part of you untouched as his mouth travels down your body. But upon reaching your navel, he pauses, those vivid, color-changing eyes peeping up at you to check for any signs of discomfort or objection. Finding none, his thick tongue pokes out to lick a deliriously winding path from your belly button to your exposed clit. Then, pushing down tenderly on the insides of your knees to open you up to him, Sam directs you one last look that is both hungry and reverent, “I still can’t believe this is mine.”

Dean had stopped you halfway through your recollection, but it appears that was still too much for him, “What did I do to deserve this?! I feel like I need to go bathe in holy water for a week.”

You and Sam both open your mouths to respond but Dean cuts you off vehemently, “Ba-da-da-da!” His vocalized outcry is complete with animated gestures featuring an accusing index finger. “OK, before you two tell me another traumatizing story, that’s enough of the who, what, when, where, and how… I just need to know why. I mean, is this- are you- …?”

Sensing the protective wheels turning in his head, you decide to put Dean out his misery, “I’m not just with Sam because he’s an incredible lay if that’s what you’re wondering. We can skip the fatherly ‘what are your intentions’ talk. Yes, Dean, I am in love with your little brother… although ‘little’ is not exactly the word I’d use to describe him.”

“Sammy, could you please control your woman?”

“My woman?” Sam sounds mostly amused but you’re almost certain you can hear a hint of pride in his voice.

“Yeah, I admit I’m surprised I didn’t see it until now. You two are kinda oddly perfect for each other, you know, in a weird, kinky way.”

“To be honest, we’re pretty surprised too. I mean, he doesn’t look it but this guy is kind of territorial,” you quip whilst cocking a thumb in Sam’s direction.

“I don’t need to- Wait a minute, so all those bruises you told me were from hunts?” Dean’s eyebrows soar towards his hairline.

Chewing on your lip, you confirm his hypothesis with a miniscule nod.

“Yeah well that time you saw my back,” Sam chimes in vengefully, casting you a handsome grin full of mischief as he reveals, “that wasn’t a werewolf, that was Y/N.”

With eyes as round as dinner plates, Dean frantically shuts you both down, “OK, that’s it. Torture Dean time is over. I don’t wanna hear any more about your depraved sex lives! Look, I guess I’m happy for you guys, although mostly cause I don’t have to play referee anymore, but I’m gonna need you to follow some ground rules around here. Like rule number one! No sex in public places!” he starts counting with his fingers, “Always put a sock on it when you’re busy! And most importantly, no sex in Baby!”

Your laughter follows Dean as he wearily saunters out of the kitchen, an exhausted expression on his face. Turning to your newly outed boyfriend, you petition excitedly, “Does this mean we can have shower sex now?”

“Not while I’m around!” comes Dean’s snappy answer.

In contrast, Sam gives you the same look he did on that dreamy morning, “Oh trust me baby girl, I’m gonna get you wet somehow.”

“Still within hearing distance! I think I liked it better when you guys were at each other’s throats.”

As you’re giggling, Sam leans down to whisper in your ear, “For the record, I’m in love with you too.” And just like that, you’re tempted to re-enact your previous kitchen escapades.

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cursedwriter · 4 years

Text

Dancing with your Ghost - Fushiguro Megumi

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist

Warnings: Deals with death, Megumi has various breakdowns, it’s just really sad over all... sorry for making you cry in advance!

Words: 4.9k

Author’s Note: Kind of inspired by this song: Dancing with your Ghost - Sasha Sloan // Also, when they dance, I kinda imagined them to dance to this: Technicolour Beat - Oh Wonder

“Is he still in there?” Yuji pointed at the door by the end of the hallway. Gojo was walking in his direction, his expression unreadable.

“No matter what I tell him, he won’t come out.” His voice sounded tired, almost worn out. The sight must’ve been hard for him to bear. Itadori gulped. He wasn’t sure if he could take it. “You should try talking to him. Maybe he will listen to you. We both know he would regret it if he missed the ceremony.” Gojo patted Yuji on the shoulder, hand lingering for a few additional seconds in silent comfort.

“I’ll try my best,” Itadori nodded, though, he sounded more hopeful than he was. This was going to be rough.

Soon after, Gojo disappeared behind the corner and out of sight. His shoulders were slouching and his head was hanging low as if he couldn’t walk upright. This was hard on everyone. But the person who had it the worst of all was…

“Fushiguro, can I come in?” Yuji knocked on the door three times. No answer. He tried again. This time more forceful. “Hey, Megumi! It’s me, Yuji! Do you mind if I come in?” Still no answer. Itadori sighed, but he pushed the door open anyways, peering into the dimly lit library of the Jujutsu Tech High school. Admittedly, he’s never been in here before. Yuji wasn’t really the non-fiction reader… or anything that wasn’t manga, really. But upon entering the room, he couldn’t help but gawk. The shelves were stacked to the max, piling up above his head in a seemingly endless supply of books. There were books everywhere. The amount of knowledge that was stored in here was immense. And all about curses and jujutsu? Incredible! Maybe he should’ve come here sooner. He bet that there had to be at least a dozen books about Sukuna here somewhere.

“It doesn’t make any sense. It doesn’t make any sense.” Itadori was pulled out of his thoughts by the repetitive mantra that was coming from somewhere behind a shelf. He followed the sound that was mingled with quiet sobs and he had to force himself to keep walking. This was more terrifying than facing all the curses of this world together.

“Megumi?” He peered around the shelf, finding his friend sitting on the old wooden floor, frantically flipping through a book with yellowed pages that seemed to be falling apart at the seams. It must’ve been ancient.

“No sense, no sense, no sense,” he repeated over and over again as if that phrase was the only thing keeping him sane.

“Megumi?” Itadori tried again and finally Megumi’s head snapped up and he looked at Itadori like a deer caught in headlights… only way worse. His eyes were bloodshot with dark purple circles underneath them. A stark contrast to his sickly pale skin. Briefly, Yuji wondered if Megumi had slept at all since it happened. Tears were streaming down his face and it felt like they would never stop. An endless river of sorrow and despair. Yuji was sure he heard his own heart shatter in his chest as he looked at his best friend. He wished he could take some of the pain away. Even if it was just a little, but of course that was impossible. “The ceremony will start soon and-“

“That’s stupid!” Fushiguro cut him off harshly, his voice hoarse and quieter than usual. “Why would there be a freaking ceremony when she’s coming back?!”

“Megumi, she-“

“No! Stop it!” He yelled, throwing the book he was reading against the opposite wall. “Stop it! Shut up!” He pressed his palms against his temples as if he wanted to crush his own skull. “I’ll do it, you’ll see! All of you! You’ll see! I’ll bring her back! I’ll bring her back, okay?! I will – I will!” He repeated it over and over again and it was apparent that he wanted to proof himself right more than anything else. Maybe making him believe would help ease his pain? Should he encourage him? No. Despite wishing that he could provide some words of comfort right now, Itadori knew that false hope would be the cruelest thing he could offer. No matter how much it hurt, but Megumi couldn’t go on like this… searching for something that wasn’t real.

“Megumi, please. You’ll regret it if you don’t come,” Itadori tried again, picking up the book that Megumi had thrown away. He flipped through the first pages and he could already tell that the answers Megumi was searching for weren’t in this book. It was mostly about how sorcerers could reincarnate as curses if their dead bodies weren’t handled properly. If they died you had to make sure that the last hit was infused with cursed energy. Usually, that took care of things. However, if they died of natural causes, diseases or accidents there was a special ritual, a ceremony that made sure their bodies were put to rest accordingly. Kind of like a funeral, but then again, not quite. This was the ceremony Fushiguro refused to attend, even though it was highly valued among sorcerers. It was a way to pay your last respects, value their accomplishments and thank them for their sacrifice. He probably refused to go because that would make her death final and he would be forced to move on, no matter how hard it would be… and it was going to be very hard.

“SHE’S COMING BACK, DAMMIT!” Megumi yelled at him, reaching for another book that was stocked in a pile he’d built himself. The tower crumbled with the way he yanked it out, dozen books falling to the ground, scattering to their feet. It was eerily quiet for a second, Yuji didn’t dare to speak. The atmosphere so thick, he doubted even Maki’s demon blade could cut through it. And then, right when he wanted to say something, anything really to get rid of the suffocating silence in the room, Megumi started sobbing. Not like before. Impossibly, it was even worse. His whole body shook with the action, hands that were clinging onto the book were trembling and despite him hanging his head low, Yuji could see the frequent tears that were hitting the old worn out pages of the book, blurring the ink further, making it almost unreadable.

Hesitantly, he took a step forward, but he wasn’t quite sure what to do. Should he hug him? What could he even say? Should he call for someone? Gojo-sensei? Would he know what to do? Or Nobara? Or, wait! Y/N always knew what to do when it came to him… Oh, right…

Yuji slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. How could he forget?! It really didn’t feel real yet, huh? Itadori tried to swallow the big lump in his throat as he crouched down and gently took the book out of Fushiguro’s shaking hands. He looked so fragile, as if a single slap to the wrist could break his arm.

“I just don’t get it,” Megumi whispered. His voice sounded far away, as if he was underwater or as if Yuji had cotton in his ears, muffling his voice to a point where it was almost incomprehensible. “It’s just so unfair.”

Yuji placed the book on the ground beside him, skipping over the title “Resurrection and the balance of the world”, it read. He gulped again. Could it be possible?

“I know it is.” He laid a comforting hand on his shoulder and another muffled cry escaped Megumi’s mouth. Yuji had seen a lot over the course of just one year, but not once has he witnessed such utter despair. The sight pulled on his heart strings in ways he couldn’t even explain.

“She fought against the most heinous creatures every day and you’re telling me she died because some fucking asshole thought it was a good idea to drive while being absolutely shit faced?!” Some of his words were swallowed by his sobs, but Itadori understood him well enough. “I refuse to believe that! I refuse to accept that!”

Momentarily Itadori was thrown back to the moment they got the call, he remembered it all too vividly. The shock, the confusion and his scream…

“I’m sorry for your loss,” the nurse led them into the room. The air was chilly and it smelled like disinfectant. The stench so unbelievably strong, Megumi thought he might throw up. It burned in his eyes and nose and he distantly felt his cheeks getting wet. He couldn’t tell if it was because of the smell or of what was to come… at this point, it still felt like a sick joke, some twisted game or prank. Just not real, like a dream, a nightmare he would wake up from any second.

There was a single bed in the middle of the room, the body underneath covered by a white cloth. Gojo, Nobara and Yuji gathered around it, hands clutched together in front of them as if they were silently praying. Megumi hesitated. He stood in the doorframe, looking at the scene in front of him and nothing seemed to make sense anymore. Everyone was crying. Even Gojo seemed more tense than usual and he was sure he saw a stray tear slip from underneath his sunglasses.

The room was silent, except for the door falling shut behind him as the nurse left them to mourn in peace. This was a dream, right? A nightmare? How could it be anything else?

Megumi’s footsteps echoed off the walls as he hesitantly approached the bed covered in white sheets.

This is just a dream. This is a nightmare. You’re going to wake up any second now. Just wake up. Wake up! Wake up, dammit!

But he didn’t wake up. Not even as he reached for the white cloth. And he didn’t wake up as he slowly lifted it up. He didn’t wake up when everyone sucked in a sharp breath. And he didn’t wake up as Nobara’s knees buckled and she fell to the ground sobbing. He didn’t wake up as he laid his eyes on your peaceful but lifeless face.

Megumi didn’t wake up. But God did he wish he did.

He stood there for what felt like an eternity. Studying your features. How your hair was softly flowing on the pillow, how your lips were slightly parted as if you would wake up at any given moment and tell him something important. But he also noticed that your cheeks lacked their signature pinkish tint and your lips were more blue than their usual vibrant red.

His hand inched closer to your face, connecting to your cheeks and adoringly caressing it. It was cold underneath his touch. Your skin feeling more like wax than it felt alive.

No one said anything, the only sound was Nobara’s quiet sobs that she tried to stiffle to the best of her abilities. Everyone watched Megumi and no one knew what to do. Neither of them has ever felt so helpless. Even Gojo was rendered speechless at the heartbreaking sight in front of him.

And then, everything slowly started to sink in…

She’s gone. She’s gone. She’s really gone! You’re not waking up! Why aren’t you waking up?! Wake up!! No, no, no. This can’t happen. This can’t happen. This isn’t happening! Tell me this isn’t happening?!

Didn’t I just talk to her this morning? Didn’t we talk about going to the beach as soon as it got warmer? Didn’t we make dinner plans? Didn’t she boast about a new recipe she wanted to try? Didn’t this just happen? And you’re telling me that all of that is just… gone? Just like that? In a moments notice… poof?! Evaporated into thin air? You’re telling me that?

“Wake up, dammit! Wake up, dammit! WAKE UP!”

Everyone stared helplessly at Fushiguro. At first no one knew if he was talking to himself or you, but then he started desperately shaking your shoulders, repeating the words over and over again. “We wanted to go to the beach, remember? You told me you couldn’t wait! Come back, and I’ll drive us right now! Come back! Come back to me, please! Please!”

Gojo couldn’t bear the sight anymore. The way he shook your body as if that would change anything. With a few long strides he closed the distance between him and Megumi and pulled him away from the bed. He was thrashing at him, screaming in his face to let him go, but Gojo didn’t listen. He gladly took a hit or two if that meant Fushiguro could get at least some of his frustration out of his body. To Gojo, the room itself was a hard place to be in – for obvious reasons. The energy here made him feel uneasy and on edge. The amount of cursed energy gushing out of Megumi was immense and almost unbearable. He had to get his emotions in check or else…

Megumi continued to yell and thrash. “Let me go, you bastard! Let me go! I need to see her! I need to see her!”

“I understand that this is hard for you, but you need to calm down!” Gojo’s voice was stern. This was probably the first time ever that he actually put on the façade of a responsible adult. Nobara and Yuji watched the two with wide eyes, but didn’t interfere otherwise. “If you keep this up, you might end up cursing her! Do you want that?!”

“Let me go! Let me go!” Megumi wasn’t listening.

“Megumi, snap out of it!” Gojo’s palm connected to Megumi’s cheek, his flesh burning hot where it had connected. For a moment, the room was silent again. Only Megumi’s labored breaths broke through the thick tension.

“You bastard!” Megumi launched himself at Gojo with all his strength, but that was exactly what Gojo intended. It was better if he directed all his energy towards him than having it leak out of him uncontrollably. Otherwise he had the potential of manifesting a new special grade curse that neither one of them wanted to deal with, especially if you were to be reborn as said curse.

Megumi stopped his relentless attacks, knees buckling under his weight as a single agony filled screamed echoed off the walls…

Megumi slowly opened his eyes. His head was aching, blood soaring in his ears. What happened? He looked around himself. The room was dark, only illuminated by the moon light that peered through his partially closed blinds. He was laying in his bed, the room a mess just like he remembered. That was unlike him. Well, ever since that day he hasn’t been himself at all. Now, he more or less felt like an empty shell, existing but not alive.

He groaned, sitting up while he rubbed his temples, hoping to get the relentless throbbing to stop. Ah, that’s right. A few flashes of the previous events reminded him of what had happened. Megumi’s frustration and anger had gotten the best of him and he started throwing books, ripping them out of their shelves and even tearing some of them apart when he couldn’t find the answers he was looking for. Yuji had to call for Gojo and he in turn had knocked him unconscious.

Megumi huffed. Great. Now he was probably not permitted to go to the library again. He should really start thinking before lashing out like this. No, matter, though. If push comes to shove he’d find a way in and if it’s the last thing he did. He didn’t really care anymore anyways. What’s the worst that could happen? Expulsion? That was nothing.

He peeled the covers back, his shirt sticking to his body uncomfortably. Maybe he should take a shower before he went back again.

Reluctantly, he got up and walked towards his bathroom, mindful not to trip on anything that was scattered on his floor.

Once he was there, he turned the shower faucet on, letting the water heat up while he stripped out of his clothes. His head was still killing him and his whole body ached. He shivered, even as he got into the shower and the hot water burned his skin. He was still cold. For some reason he didn’t seem to be able to get warm anymore, as if you took all of his warmth with you, when you left him.

“Ew, stop doing that,” you laughed wholeheartedly as Megumi shook his wet hair in your face after coming out of the shower. “Seriously, are you a dog?”

“No, but I love hearing you laugh.” Megumi wrapped his arms around you, pressing your back against his naked chest as you both watched your reflection in the mirror. “I really love you, Y/N. So much,” he whispered in your ear, not taking his eyes off the mirror. He could see the faint blush on your cheeks and he placed a soft kiss to the nape of your neck to emphasize his words.

“I love you, too.” The smile on your lips and the way your eyes sparkled with joy, filled his heart with warmth and light. He could bask in it for all eternity and he would never get tired of it.

Megumi turned the water off, still shivering. It was to no use. His skin was burning red, though, and the whole room was filled with steam and yet, he had goosebumps all over his body. His teeth started clattering as he dried himself and he put on new clothes.

The clock on his bedside table told him that it was three in the morning. He felt like he forgot about something… something important. What was it again?

And then his eyes widened in shock. No, no, no.

“Hey, look!” Megumi felt your slender fingers wrap around his wrist, your warmth immediately warming his cold skin. You tugged him gently and he followed you. It didn’t take long for you to reach your desired destination and you stopped, eyes shining with awe in them as you watched over the city, lights sparkling and illuminating the darkness. Megumi couldn’t deny that the view was breathtaking, but he couldn’t keep his eyes from constantly looking at you instead. The way your face lit up, the way the lights danced on your face and how your cheeks were always tinted in their usual pinkish color, made him fall for you all over again. His heart hammered in his chest and his pulse picked up. Butterflies assaulting his stomach in the best way imaginable and he felt like he was floating above ground. Never has he felt so happy. “There! It’s starting!” You beamed at him as the first flash of light painted the night sky in a bright blue color, then it changed to red and then green. The sound of other fireworks being set off rang through the otherwise silent night. Here, on top of the mountain away from anyone, it was the most peaceful place he could imagine. But he wasn’t sure if it was only because of the view and the fact that no one was around or if it was because you were here. Whatever it was, he didn’t dream to fight it. The feeling so foreign yet so welcomed.

Suddenly your hand appeared in his line of vision and he didn’t hesitate to take it. What he didn’t expect was you starting to spin around. It took him a moment to catch up. “C’mon, Megumi, what are you doing? Don’t just stand there so stiffly! Dance with me!” You urged him on and Megumi felt his cheeks heating up in embarrassment. He could only hope that you couldn’t see it.

“There’s no music, though,” he said, trying to find an excuse to not make a complete fool out of himself. You see, Megumi wasn’t a dancer. Give him a choreographed fighting formation and he could do that no problem, but moving his feet to the rhythm of a song? Nope. That was sure to end in him tripping over his own feet and in the worst case break his leg or arm.

You rolled your eyes at him, but instead of saying anything, you reached into your back pocket to get a hold of your phone. It didn’t take long and the sound of the fireworks was mixed with the soft tune of a song that he didn’t know. “Better?”

Well, not really… Megumi scratched the back of his head, unsure. Better to come clean, I guess. “You see… I can’t really dance… like at all,” Megumi stammered.

“So what? I can’t dance either,” you laughed, spinning around and jumping up and down like it was the most normal thing to do. The smile on your face never faltered and you did another spin, throwing your hands up in the air, moving them around awkwardly. Megumi couldn’t help but laugh at your awkward movements. You looked so silly, it was hilarious. “See? Now it’s only fair that you make a fool out of yourself, too. You can’t leave me hanging like this!”

What the hell, right? Megumi started moving his feet, still super stiffly and anything but graceful, but he did it. He looked at you, following your movements and it didn’t take him long to get the hang of it… well, somewhat at least. He still looked really awkward and helpless, so you reached both your hands out for him again and he grabbed them without hesitation, just like before. You started spinning both of you in circles, giggling at the way his face lit up slightly. He joined your laughter, looking at you with the most adoring smile in the world. It felt… so easy. Everything with you felt so easy.

So now it was just the both of you, spinning around in fast circles, laughing at the night sky filled with stars while in the distance the sound of fireworks slowly died down. The music playing softly in the background, but you didn’t even care that the rhythm of the song didn’t match with your movements at all. Nothing mattered in that moment. Just the two of you. Together. Forever.

“Ah, I was wondering when you’d show up.” Gojo scratched the back of his neck, smiling apologetically. “Maybe I was a bit too rough, when I knocked you out. Sorry about that.”

Megumi stared at him sitting in the front row of lined up chairs. The room was only dimly lit by the candles at the other end. The soft light they cast illuminated a picture of you in a black frame. It was the same one he had saved as his phone background. Megumi gulped, feet moving on their own as he approached Gojo, though, he felt his knees wobble unsteadily. The air became thicker and thicker with every other step he took. It felt excruciatingly hard to breathe. It was suffocating.

Megumi sat down on a chair next to Gojo, forcing himself to tear his eyes off the framed picture in front of him. If he didn’t he was afraid he might break down again. So he shifted his attention to the man in the chair next to him. He was already looking at him, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, as usual. There was a slight frown in his features, though, and his mouth was pressed into a thin line, a stark contrast to his normally giddy self. So Gojo could be serious, huh? Who would’ve thought? Bet you would’ve loved to see him like that…

“Megumi,” Gojo broke the silence first, his tone soft, but there was a certain sternness behind it that Megumi didn’t know he had until now. It left no room for interpretation. This was going to be a serious talk and Fushiguro didn’t know if he was ready for that yet. “I know that losing someone you care about is not easy and I’m not trying to pretend that I know exactly what you’re going through right now, but I’m telling you as your sensei and as a friend… you have to move on. And that means you have to stop looking for ways to bring her back.”

Megumi opened his mouth to tell him off, but Gojo just held a finger up to show him he wasn’t done yet. The crease between Megumi’s brows deepened, but he kept his mouth shut regardless. “The world works under a few distinct principles. Rules that cannot be broken, if you will. Like we know that after the sun sets, dawn will come. With darkness, there is light and no matter how harsh a winter might be, spring will always come next. And the pinnacle of those rules will always be that with life there comes death. We don’t get to choose when this’ll be or how it’ll happen, but from the moment we’re born we know without a doubt that we’ll have to leave this place at some point. Death is certain. It’s but one part of life and disrupting that cycle, breaking one of the unbreakable rules, would cause the whole system to fall apart. It would level the ground for mayhem and destruction, nothing would make sense anymore. The world would crumble. As sorcerers you know that we protect the ones who cannot protect themselves, but we also maintain balance and Megumi… while I do understand your desire to see her again, I have to warn you… even if there is a chance, I won’t let you do it at the expense of everyone else’s life.”

Silence fell between them again. Megumi had a hard time believing that these words really just came out of Gojo’s mouth. Deep down, he knew he was right. He knew it was a futile plan to bring you back. It was selfish and irresponsible, but he was so… desperate. So desperate to hear your voice again, so desperate to listen to you laugh or complain, so desperate to feel your delicate and warm touch on his cold skin. He was so desperate for these things; he couldn’t think straight. His mind felt foreign to him without you there. He didn’t know who he was, who he would be without you by his side. He didn’t know if he wanted to be in this world anymore with his source of warmth and comfort gone. They said, time healed all wounds but as of now that seemed impossible. Just a thing people told themselves to keep moving forward. A lie that was supposed to protect oneself from the cruel and harsh truth that the world didn’t stop spinning, that time passed by and that dawn always came… no matter what. The world moved forward regardless if you were here or not and it felt like a cruel joke to him. Nothing seemed the same. He didn’t recognize anything, looking at the world with different eyes. How could there be a world without you in it? Why was everyone moving forward while he was left behind? And how could they? How could they move on? Why didn’t the world stop spinning? It should. Because nothing felt right. Nothing was the same. And yet… that only held true for him.

Megumi wiped away his silent tears with the sleeve of his shirt. “But I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” he croaked out. It was the first thing that came to his mind. He replayed the morning with you over and over again and he couldn’t remember if he said goodbye to you when you left that fateful day. Did he? Did he not? In any case, he would’ve never thought how final of a farewell it would’ve been in the end. “I don’t even remember the last thing I said to her,” he sobbed.

He felt beyond guilty for not being able to recall it clearly. Did he say ‘I love you’? Did you say it back? He wanted to believe he did, but he just wasn’t sure and it drove him insane.

“She knew that you loved her very much, Megumi. I’m sure she knew until the very end.” Gojo patted his shoulder a few times, before he got up. “Take all the time you need.” He left the room, closing the door behind him, but not before he turned around one last time, looking at Megumi with worried eyes. “But remember, Megumi… You have to move on eventually, no matter how hard it is. For her sake and your own… Just know that you have people in your life that you can rely on any time, okay?”

Megumi nodded and Gojo let the door fall shut behind him. The silence that ensued was almost deafening. Finally, Megumi let his tears fall freely, sobbing like a child and sucking in air after shallow breaths.

Everything hurt with you gone. How could he ever move on? How could he ever love again? Megumi was scared he might break in half. How much pain could someone even bear? Though, deep down he knew that he didn’t have a choice… He had to try. And he would try his hardest to keep moving forward, holding on to that tiny glimpse of hope that one day he’d see you again. And when he did, he swore to himself to never stop telling you how much he loved you. Always and forever.

633 notes · View notes

imagineabrighterworld · 4 years

Text

A Heart Meant for Two

A/N: A poly relationship between Hawks, Dabi, and the reader! Based on the song The Way You Say Hello by tiffi and City Girl ^^

“He said he loved her more than words, so instead of words he gave her flowers to observe”

Hawks was your first boyfriend to ever have a current boyfriend. It was an odd adjustment to get used to sharing your boyfriend with someone else, especially when you first met Dabi. But with some help, you got used to it quickly.

“Flowers?” You eye the bouquet of roses in Keigo’s hands. He had given you flowers before, but these felt like a bribe. You peer at him with suspicious eyes, snapping your book shut. “What did you do?”

“Can’t I buy my best girl some flowers?” The Winged Hero replaces your book with the flowers, flipping through the pages before tossing it to the side. As he sits down next to you, his wing instinctively wraps around you to pull you in.

You press yourself into his side and bury your nose in the flowers, breathing in their sweet scent. A small smile forms on your face. “Hmm.. You're either planning something stupid, or it's Dabi that is doing something stupid.”

“Kid-”

“It's Dabi isn't it.”

From the flash of blue light coming from outside and the nearing of police sirens, you know the answer.

“They were also on sale.” Keigo murmurs under his breath, turning his head to hide his blush of shame as you laugh.

It had been a full four months since you started dating the two of them and Keigo still thought you were woefully ignorant. But you were much more observant than he thought. You knew your other boyfriend was a villain, one that still had a long way to go if he was to be pardoned of his crimes- that is, if he wanted to be pardoned. It was that bit of information that you did stay ignorant on, you didn't want to lose sleep on something like that.

You sigh happily and give your boyfriend a kiss on the cheek, “Thank you.”

Later on, Dabi would return home with another bouquet of flowers. A bit crumpled from him jumping over fences, but still intact.

Your boyfriends were weird, but you loved them.

“She drew him pictures in a card, he said it was tacky and almost broke her heart”

Dabi was not a spoonful of sugar and sometimes he could be a bit blunt. Painfully blunt. How you got used to his silver tipped tongue? You didn't know. Maybe it was a skill you should add onto your resume.

Removing your heels at the front door, you slip on a pair of slippers and sneak your way into the house. Dabi was the only one at home, the main indicator being the lack of Keigo’s jacket on the wall hook while Dabi’s boots were tucked away in the corner.

You duck low as you hear a quiet snoring from the couch in the living room. With soft steps, you creep in on a sleeping Dabi and lean over the cushions to reach him.

His arm was slung over his eyes, his mouth parted slightly as he sighs. Sleeping Dabi was the softest you've seen him. He was always smirks and sharp lines, but when he was asleep he was so.. Soft.

“What do you want?” A low grumble rises from Dabi’s throat. He moves his arm to uncover an eye. The piercing blue cuts through you and leaves you halting in your movements. That's to say, you stopped your hand from removing a card from your purse.

“I wanted to give you something.” You pull out the card and offer it to him.

He shuts his eye and- goes back to sleep?

“Dabi?” You whisper.

He opens his eye again and swipes the paper from your hand with a huff. Dabi sits up before paying your card any mind. Flipping it open, he runs his eyes over the drawings inside.

“Is that supposed to be a cat?”

“It's a human.”

“ It's a human, she says.” Dabi chuckles, laying back down and covering his face with the card, resting his arms on his chest in a mummy like fashion.

"Do you like it?"

"It's garbage, babe."

It stung until you found it tucked away in his chest pocket while doing laundry a week later.

“I know he hates the way she does her hair”

You constantly changed your hairstyle. One day it was braided and the next it was in a high ponytail, or cropped to your chin. Every style looked good on you, but the day you started dying your hair was the day Dabi grew truly frustrated. Though.. Not for long.

“Dabi!” You yell from inside the bathroom, your white towel now shades of purple. “I think I messed up!”

“You think or you know , babe?” He hisses as he nears the bathroom. The lights were far too bright after he had been napping for two hours. It was nighttime, nearly one in the morning according to the clock on the wall. And you were doing your hair? When you had work the very next morning?

As soon as he witnesses your hair, he knows that you know just how badly it went. He holds onto the doorframe and laughs heartily, bending over slightly as his lungs begin to burn.

“Come on it's not that funny!”

“Your towel has more hair dye than your hair does!”

It was true. Your hair was supposed to be a deep indigo, but all that was left after rinsing off the excess dye was a few lavender streaks in your now stained platinum hair. You had went to get it bleached a few days ago and today was the day you were going to color it. How did it go so wrong? The hair dye was rated so highly!

Your face burns with embarrassment. You move to shut the door on him. “If you wont help me I’ll just-”

He moves his hand in time to stop you from closing the door and pushes it open further to let himself through. “I never said that, did I babe?” He breathes in slowly to ease his now stinging lungs. “Sit down, I'll do it for you. I have more practice.”

“I know she hates the way that he pretends to care”

Keigo wasn't without his own flaws. Dabi was the villain, but Keigo came with his own problems. They weren't too big, luckily, but it wasn't always easy being on the receiving end of his disinterest when he was tired.

You lay in defeat on the floor, your arms spread out with empty clothes hangers on your arms. Tonight was your high school reunion, a day you had been planning for since the email was first sent. The only thing you didn't have planned was your outfit. Which was why you wanted some input from your significant others, but unfortunately only Keigo was home.

Why was it unfortunate? He was tired. And when he was tired he never had much to say, or any energy to do anything other than breathe.

You look up at him from the floor and poke at his wing. “Keigoooo!”

Keigo was laying on his stomach, his right wing drooping downward as he attempted to sleep. “Mmnn..?”

“What do you think about this one?”

“It's beautiful.”

“You're not even looking.”

“Mm..”

“Birdbrain.”

“I know she'll slightly disagree on what he wears”

You loved Dabi’s odd sense of fashion and went shopping with him for matching outfits (something he said he hated, but would never stop you on doing), but Keigo.. had a special sense of fashion that always managed to confuse you. Maybe it was best you stopped going to him for his input.

"You'd think that being in magazine shoots would help you gain a fashion sense." You say from behind a fist, your hand curled to hide your grimace.

"They dress him. What do you think he'll learn?" Dabi chimes in from behind you. He laid on the bed with pillows propping him up in order to watch the show that was Keigo dressing for date night. It was a little game Dabi always liked to observe.

It wasn't that the clothes Keigo had were terrible. If they were in the right color they would look great. But.. they weren't in the right color.

They were every goddamn color in the rainbow.

Keigo looks at the vibrant pink and yellow jacket he was sporting and at the baby blue tank top he had on underneath. Vivid orange and purple peaked out from the windbreaker he wore underneath the jacket and you didn't want to know what other layer of clothing he had on under that .

"I think I look great."

"For a bird, babe." Dabi chuckles. "For a bird, you're a hot ticket."

"But not for a human Kei." You walk behind him and tug at the jacket. “Let’s just go with the other outfit.”

As it turned out, Keigo did have more in common with birds than just his wings. Bright colors were just as alluring to him as a bowl of seeds was for a sparrow. You kept this in mind for the next time you went shopping.

“I know he chokes when she sprays too much perfume in the air”

Your boyfriends knew they were difficult and could be major pains in the ass, but for once they would appreciate it if you didn't try killing them with your perfume. They knew it wasn't intentional, but how could you not notice the whole house smelled like you?

“Question.” Dabi rests his chin on top of your head while looking at you in the mirror. “You know what my quirk is, right?”

“I do.”

“And you know what fire does when in contact with alcohol, right?”

Now you look up at him, squinting your eyes at him as you lower your brush onto the sink counter. “Yes.. it's basic safety measures. Alcohol is extremely flammable.”

“Do you know what perfume has?” Your boyfriend smirks. He curls a lock of your hair around his finger and gives it a small tug.

You slap his hand away and turn around to look at him directly. You cross your arms and lean against the counter. He was being coy, but it was too early in the morning for this. He never stalled you from getting ready to go to work. “It has alcohol. What about it?”

He cages you in his arms, leaning in and letting a flicker of blue flame light the side of his face. But unlike usual, blue flames burst in the air for a split second, the sudden flash of heat startling you enough to bump into him as you jump away from the counter. Dabi turns off his flames and pecks you on the cheek.

“Unless you want the house to burn down, I'd stop spraying so much perfume, babe.”

After work you end up buying an alcohol-free perfume.

“But she likes the way it feels when he's right there”

After the third attempt at sleeping in the same queen sized bed at the same time, Keigo and Dabi decided to buy a new bed without you knowing. It went well until you came home early to them attempting to assemble the frame without instructions. But once it was put together and finished, you had to admit you liked the result.

“No more facefuls of feathers!” You squeal with joy as you leap onto the bed and spread your arms out, enjoying the spaciousness of it all.

Dabi sits down on your left while Keigo takes your right. He flicks your forehead to catch your attention and motions for you to tuck in your arm so he could lay down next to you. “Now you get why he doesn’t get to sleep in the middle?” He pulls you into a hug while flipping Keigo off from over your shoulder.

Keigo flops onto the bed, his wings spread out and covering the two of you like a tarp. “You're just jealous baby.”

You wriggle around and lay with your back against Dabi’s chest. Pushing his wing away, you stick your tongue out at Keigo. “Jealous of being attracted to stop signs?”

“It's a sexy red.”

“What about mirrors?”

“I’m a sexy man.”

“Birdbrain.” Keigo huffs and moves closer to the both of you, wrapping his wing to engulf the both of you. “The bed was my idea you know.”

“I know.” You admit. “Dabi doesn't care if he smooshes us to death.”

“Ouch.” Dabi murmurs from your hair.

It's not long after that you fall asleep in their arms, completely content to spend the rest of your night between the two of them. But when the winter came, you and Keigo agreed to keep Dabi in the middle to act as a heater.

“She loves him so much it's absurd”

It was winter when your boys began to grow more busy. Sometimes you would go to sleep alone, but you didn't let it get to you. You knew they visited the house when they could. What else would explain the endless supply of your favorite flowers in vases by the window or boxes of your favorite chocolates on the table when they weren't there when you left? The nights you did get to see them, you enjoyed their presence to the fullest.

Keigo squeezes his eyes shut in annoyance as he hears his phone ringing once more. It was the third time in a row, and he knew he couldn't go on ignoring it anymore. Being a hero meant sacrificing down time. It meant sacrificing time with you.

“Kei.”

“Yeah?”

“It's okay.” You keep your eyes shut as you trace swirls along his back in the area between his wings. “I understand you need to leave.” You knew you couldn’t keep him forever. It wasn't right. People needed him. He saved people. It was like keeping a firefighter from putting out a fire right in front of him. If they were calling Keigo so adamantly then it must be important.

Keigo presses a kiss to your temple and releases his hold on you, letting you lay on your back as he tugs on his jacket and prepares to exit the room.

“I love you.” You say from under the still warm blankets.

“I love you too.” He smiles from over his shoulder, eyes pained.

What did he do to deserve you?

“He thinks it's cute that her singing is the worst he's ever heard”

After a whole month away from the two of you, Dabi had to admit that he missed Keigo’s stupid face and your singing. Was it good singing? No. But did he miss seeing you enjoy yourself? Yeah. Yeah he did.

Dabi sat outside the house, listening to your singing from his spot under the tree. He had yet to enter the house and opted instead to stay under the shade. He would have to leave again soon, so he saw no point in raising your hopes only to let you down.

A feather jabs at him from behind.

“You should go in and see her. She misses you.” Keigo lands beside him, lifting his goggles from his face. He crouches in front of him, running his gloved fingers through Dabi’s hair. “We both miss you.”

Dabi leans into his touch. How many times did he find himself missing it? Keigo was his first love after such a long time, but now there was you too. You both made him weak.

“I’ll be home soon.”

“And the way she’ll close her eyes, when she's nervous and just about to cry”

Keigo and Dabi didn't always agree on everything. That was a given when one was a hero dating a villain. But what they constantly agreed on was making sure you were kept out of the fray.

The shopping district was utterly decimated and all you felt was heat. A sweltering heat that couldn't be put out. Blue flames surrounded you on all sides, flames you knew instinctively were Dabi's.

"What's going on?!" You yell as debris falls around you, Dabi was just there- you could've sworn you saw him! It had to be him! Where else did the flames come from?

A hand wraps around your bicep and pulls you upward, the familiar sight of red wings takes up your vision as you look at Keigo. He was covered in ash and his goggles were cracked in half atop his head. He squinted through the smoke that was building in the air.

"The League is here. I'm getting you home."

"What about Dabi?! He's here, we need to bring him home too!" You look behind you at the structure that began to cave in on itself, all you could see was blue. "He's in there!"

"And so is Shigaraki! You can't be here kid!"

"We cant leave him! Please Keigo!" Tears blur your vision as all you can think about was how burnt Dabi's skin already was. What would being in the center of that fire do to him then? What kind of state would he return to you in?

"I'm sorry kid.. He's the one who warned me you were there.."

“He likes the way she plays songs on repeat”

Keigo watched as you grew more and more despondent, shutting down as more time passed that Dabi was gone. Japan was in an uproar, and it kept calling him back to patch it up each time villains showed. Japan was like an open wound that wouldn't stop bleeding. However, this changes one day as he comes home to hearing the sound of music blasting on your speakers.

Lights were strung up from the front door to the living room to the bedrooms, fairy lights dotted every inch of the house. Keigo tucked his wings in taunt to his body to keep them from getting tangled in the haphazardly placed lights. While he loved bright colors, it was almost too much for his eyes. Where were you?

"Kid?" He calls out, ducking underneath bluebell lights. "Please tell me you're still alive in here?"

The song on the speaker repeated on itself, which was odd with how clunky it sounded, but he learned to like it once he found you.

If choppy music was what it took to bring a smile back on your face, it was worth it.

He found you taping up lights in the bathroom while singing under your breath, mascara smudged but a smile still on your face. You look at him with your hundred gigawatt smile. It threw him for a loop, the sudden hope in your eyes when only yesterday you were crying yourself to sleep.

"Its for when he comes back. Want to help me?"

Keigo takes the loop of lights from your hands and nods.

"Make some room kid."

“He likes the way they flow together like electricity”

Covering the house in Christmas lights was actually a fun distraction for the both of you while Dabi was gone. Keigo was in charge of the higher lights that covered the rooftop, but you had plenty of fun stringing them around the plants surrounding the house. After finishing your impromptu decorating, you both decide to spend the rest of the night in the living room.

"Just follow my steps, baby."

"If I followed you I'd end up on my face." You laugh while holding onto his shoulders as you both hovered in the air, his wings flared open to keep you both afloat. What steps was he even talking about? For the past ten minutes he just held you both up and spun in a lazy circle. His wings were doing all the work while his feet did nothing.

"I’ll make you soar kid." He winks at you. "One day you'll see. I’ll take you to dance sessions and everything."

"I'll hold you to it."

“He likes her ringtone and the way she'll say hello”

When it came to being part of the League, Dabi had to be careful on what information he let loose. They couldn't know about his relationships. If Shigaraki knew then he would most definitely use it to his advantage. Dabi had two weak points and that was you and Keigo. But when he was out with the LoV, he had his ways of being with you.

“Hello! This is my voicemail, which means I'm probably busy right now. Leave a message and I'll get back to you ASAP! Have a good day!”

Dabi holds his phone limply in his hand, looking up at the cracking ceiling of the League's current hideout. He had to make face for now, which meant staying away from you and Keigo for a while. Still, he had his phone, one thing he was glad Giran gave him after he burnt his old one accidentally. He knew you were busy, and he had no intention of talking to you while on the job, but to hear your voice was enough for him.

Weeks later, he welcomes the sound of your voice as you greet him, receiving him back into the house with open arms.

"Whats with all lights?" He laughs in response to your face nuzzling into his chest and feathers lifting the both of you to Keigo who stood in the doorway.

"Its to a bright future."

“He likes the way her hands feel even if they're cold”

Dabi couldn't blame you for having cold hands, but he found it cute how you were so insecure about being cold all the time. He loved how you latched onto him rather than Keigo when the temperature began to drop. Maybe it was the fact that he was gone for so long that he didn't mind being clung to. But somehow he found himself in situations he wasn't sure how to handle.

“How long am I going to be in the middle for?” He mumbles under his breath as the two of you cling to him from underneath piles of blankets.

“Until winter is gone.” You state simply.

“It isn't winter yet.”

“Did she stutter?” Keigo grumbles from under the sheets.

Eventually he would grow tired of it, but for now he let the two of you do what you wanted. He was home after all.

“And when she’s away from him, she’s away from home”

After two years of dating you knew you could never return to being without your boys. They were yours.

You reach upward, feeling the familiar rough texture of Dabi's scars along his neck and under his eyes. You drag your your thumb softly under his eye, breathing in his scent. From behind you, you could feel Keigo's breath fanning across your neck.

It was a lazy day today. No one needed them, no one needed you, it was just you and them. How long would the peace last? How long until one of your boys were called away? How long until one of them lost a battle?

No, you wouldn't think of that. For now, it was just you and them.

And that was alright with you.

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echo-of-sounds · 4 years

Text

daddy dom

Headcanons on the types of Daddy Dom Aizawa, Gang Orca, and Hound Dog are.

I was going to include all six guys in this but it got so much longer than I initially planned. Toshi, Hizashi, and Fatgum are coming tomorrow!

Warnings: Daddy Dom relationship, (the rest is only mentioned, there’s no real detail) punishments, choking, slapping, spanking, spitting, hair pulling, and rough sex

Aizawa Shouta

Shouta had an inkling he was interested in dominance when he started having sex. The Daddy Dom surfaced after a one-night stand happened to moan ‘Daddy.’ He enjoyed it, looked into the subject deeper, and realized that’s exactly what he wanted, needed. However, he hasn’t had a relationship where he’s felt comfortable enough or been in one long enough to practice it.

As your relationship develops, it is something he brings up because he isn’t shy about it. He wants to be your Daddy. He wants to be his girl’s protector and her anchor. He praises you when you’re doing well. He says how proud he is. He loves and cuddles you on your bad days. When you’re crying and scared, he’s right beside you, huddling you to his chest, protecting you from whatever you fear.

Pet names are a rarity. On the odd occasion a good girl slips out, it’s a telltale sign he’s in a highly dominant mood. You’re expected to listen, do what you’re told, and say, ‘please and thank you.’ To make you feel fluttery and happy, he’ll call himself Daddy as he’s helping you.

Kitten is even more limited. He uses it when you dress up in the pink lingerie he bought you. It has a little collar with a bell, a cat-eared headband, garter bands, and cute, frilly panties and bra. There’s also a cat tail butt plug you can play with. But there’s a catch- there’s depreciation. If you use it too much, he isn’t as excited and it’s clear to see. You need to keep the lingerie away until you’re in dire need of your Daddy and a good fucking.

He takes pride and joy in seeing your smile at a new, fancy bracelet or an adorable teddy bear. But he’s uncertain when buying. He knows what you like, yet he just can’t decide on which dress you’d prefer. Despite his self-doubts, his presents are usually excellent, especially any soft, thigh-high stockings or cute, striped panties he brings home.

Though you won’t ever be able to tell, sometimes it is hard for Shouta to discipline you. He enjoys your bratty moods and how you ignore his commands to sit still. Your whimpers and whines and facial expression are incredibly cute. But at the end of the day, he is your Daddy and it’s his responsibility to keep you on track and provide stability. His go-to punishment is no orgasming… for a long time. You can’t touch yourself or grind on a pillow. If you beg, it’ll only extend the punishment. Occasionally, spanking is also used, particularly when you’re riding him and not listening.

Highly dominant doesn’t always mean rough. Yes, he is that most of the time. But he has periodic moods where he won’t use discipline. It’s when he’s in a coddling mood. Daddy becomes gentle, erotic, intent, and intimate. Don’t hold back your moans. Please, whine and whimper and fuss and mewl. Your soft cries and little wriggles please him so.

When he is rough, you’ll be leaving red streaks down his back. He loves seeing them in the mirror the next morning, so he strives to get you that aroused and pleasured every time. And nothing is truly off the books for him. Whatever you wish, he’ll command: slapping, spanking, choking, hair pulling, and spitting.

Shouta is more of a nonverbal Daddy. Both of you know he’s dominant and it’s your job to behave, so he doesn’t feel the need to command you as much as others may. He just yanks your body around as he pleases, slaps and chokes you when you don’t listen or get off-topic, and spits on your tongue to get you to quiet down. Now that doesn’t mean he won’t talk. At your misdoings, his steeled voice is gruff and guttural, commanding, punishing, and asking what you did wrong.

Daddy gets even more domineering when you cum without permission. That’s the one rule you should never break. If he’s feeling charitable (which is rarer than a blue moon), he’ll let you cum. Other times, he’s deepthroating you, cumming down your throat, and making you swallow it. And that’s all you’ll get. Again, don’t beg. That’ll worsen the punishment. All you can do is be a good girl and hope he lets you cum in the next few days.

Gang Orca

Kugo never considered himself a Daddy or any sort of dominant man in general. The few times he’s had sex, he was more on the submissive side, letting his partner lead and ride him as they wished. His fear of hurting his partner really held him back. However, the instant he hears you softly, weakly whine Daddy, gently pawing his chest, pining for him to make you feel good, the switch is flicked and there’s no going back.

Before he fully engages in the Daddy Dom relationship, he does a lot of reading and asks you question after question. If he ever hurt you or pushed past your limits, he’d all but die inside. You need to ease into it. Let him become accustomed to the power dynamics, the dirty talking, what’s expected from him, and the lifestyle.

In the beginning, he’s as sweet as can be. You’re his little one whom he loves to spoil. He buys you dainty panties, comfy sweaters, and dresses for every occasion. You should always model clothing for Daddy. He’ll appreciate your appreciation. As you turn around in a cute, lace nightgown, his fingers flow up your thighs, caressing between them, gently brushing along your new panties, making sure everything fits perfectly.

He gradually leans into the discipline aspect as the relationship grows. Once comfortable with himself and you, the punishments come frequently. They depend on the severity of your bad behavior. If you don't listen, you don’t get sweets. If you didn’t listen twice, you have extra chores to do. If you didn’t listen three times, no sexual gratification of any kind for however long Daddy deems necessary.

In spite of that, he is a weak Daddy when it comes to his little one. Your puppy-dog eyes burrow into his heart. Your wiggling thighs get him heated. Your little mewls for your Daddy’s attention haunt him. But he doesn’t give in all the time. He still has structure, stability, and dominance to uphold.

Kugo is truly a safe Daddy. He’s your secret place where your every thought, desire, emotion, and fear will always be heard, understood, and respected. Whatever you tell Daddy when you’re curled up on his chest, snuggled in his arms, stays with Daddy. He guides you through the crowded mall, nurses the cuts on your legs, acts as an anchor through depression and anxiety, and protects you from the rumbling thunder. And by God, is he protective.

Protectiveness is his main characteristic. He wants you to wear his T-shirt and sweatshirts. When he cums, he seats himself fully insides, letting him empty out completely. His hands rub your lower stomach like he’s feeling his property. Even as he falls flaccid, he stays inside. He needs to make sure everything has drained. If he could, he’d keep you filled with his seed forever.

Tender, slow sex involves you riding Daddy. He squeezes your thighs and tummy as you bounce. He praises every movement, every part, every itty-bitty sound. Your passion is so important to him. Seeing your body seek out its pleasure and rapture in the safety of your own little world fills his heart with love.

Dominant Daddy is less common yet so fulfilling. His thick, wet tongue washes deep. Fingers spread you wide. His erection spreads you further. You’ll be thrown on the bed, stuck under him for multiple beautiful orgasms. As you cum, moan ‘thank you’ again and again. Your gratitude encourages him. He’ll keep you moaning into the morning.

Hound Dog

The second Ryo entered that seriously horny stage of puberty, he knew his dominance. As he started having sex, it only flourished. He’s rough, fast, controlling, and one-hundred percent, hands down a brat tamer. Your whines and protests are cute, but he always wins. Hearing his rasping, growling voice is enough to get you to concede to his demands.

Aftercare and any delicate aspects will take time and learning on his part. He wants to be so gentle, caring, and sweet with you. His natural rough nature gets in the way. As any good Daddy is patient with his little girl, a good girl needs to be patient with him. And when he gets there, he gets there. You’ll be swaddled in a warm blanket, given candy and drinks, and your favorite bed-time Tv will play while you wind down. His warm, smooth tongue laps over bruises and scratches.

There’s one big thing about this Daddy: God, he just loves to watch you suck: him (specifically his foreskin), his fingers, your fingers, a lollipop, a pacifier, whatever. Lay on his chest, wrapped in a blanket, and nurse on a binkie as you fall asleep. The most common way sex starts is with a blowjob. It commonly ends that way as well. He either makes you finish him with no pleasure for you or, after you’re finished, he lays you down and deepthroats you.

Right off the bat, punishments are a main part. There’s a written list on the fridge you must obey. Though he doesn’t spank. You might act up just to get spanked, and he won’t have that. The discipline always matches the offense. Are you back talking? You’re eating something you don’t like. Is your temper too hot? You’re taking an ice-cold shower for five minutes. Are you ignoring him? Daddy’s going to rile you up then leave you hanging and whining, showing you what it’s like to be neglected.

After the punishment is complete, Ryo transitions right into aftercare. Daddy loves you enough to punish you. That love is strengthened after by his licks and kisses. Besides, Daddies who don’t show their little girl compassion and care afterward, aren’t good Daddies. He loves and respects you and wants you to know, see, and feel that.

And the punishments never push past your boundaries. You’re never put in danger. In any way. The safe word is always available. He won’t give you food you truly can’t handle for whatever reason. He’s right beside you as you shower just in case something goes wrong. The moment the water’s shut off, you’re immediately swathed in a cozy towel.

During one of his more… inflamed moods, you’re fastened in a collar. It’s pink with little flowers. The heart decoration on the front is a padlock. Only he has the key. It has ‘Daddy’s Girl’ inscribed on the back. It goes on as soon as you get home. And it stays on until you leave. There is a leash he’ll use if you aren’t behaving, holding, leading, and controlling all your movements.

There are times when he goes into (sort of) a heat. It could be a quirk side effect. It could just be him. Either way, you’re going to get completely dominated. Your hair will be pulled. Your throat will be choked and fucked. Your cheeks, both sets, will be red and raw. Scratch marks and dark bruises will stain your neck, legs, and back.

His favorite is any doggy-style position. It’s carnal and crude. Daddy has total authority since his weight bears down, caging you to the bed. Use your voice. Let him hear every gasp and cry. Beg for him. Plead for more. Pray for just one more orgasm as your hair’s tugged and clit’s smack sore. The harder you crave, the harder he thrusts.

Sweet sex is a rare time when he kisses and cuddles. Heat surrounds you. Muscled thighs and callused hands direct your weak, longing body. His tongue never leaves your mouth, licking over yours, causing drivel to drip down your chin. It may not be rough, but the sincerity and intimacy provide more than enough pleasure for an amazing orgasm. And Daddy passionately walks you through it.

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vecnawrites · 3 years

Note

Jaune had expected a lot for his own, Coming of age celebration and he wasn't disappointed, not by the food, quest and certainly not his presents. His own father had gotten him not one, but two slaves, for him and him alone, with the knowledge he would be undisturbed in his new chambers. Looking them over, they had everything; Perfect Dark Skin, Flowy green Hair, sexy See-through outfits and best of all, they were a mother and daughter Pair!

The Second Chapter of “Meeting The Mothers”! This one has an OC character, Esmeralda Sustrai, Emerald’s mother. I will have an art piece on my AO3 account of her when I cross-post. Don’t want to risk it getting flagged and this pulled.

Trigger Warning: Mentions of Slavery, Pleasure Slaves, Non-Descriptive Beatings (Nothing visible, but mentioned)

Jaune Arc, only son and Scion of the Noble House of Arc, was finally reaching his Coming of Age Celebration. He had been training from a young age to eventually take over the house and lead it to an even higher amount of greatness, learning a multitude of things, ranging from Swordplay, to Tactics, to Diplomacy. All of the family allies, Clan Ren, Nomad Tribe Valkyrie, Vassal Clan Zedong, and fellow Noble Family, the Warrior Family Nikos had come.

Their children were his closest friends, Lie Ren and Nora Valkyrie, who he was very sure would get “together-together” and bind their clans together, bringing the raw physical talent of the Valkyries and the guile and sneakiness of the Ren family.

May Zedong, one of his oldest and closest friends, large breasted and very timid but with a magnificent win record against their enemies. Her maroon locks covered her left eye, a scar from battle with a rival clan, the Branwen Tribe. She had lost it in a battle with Vernal, Raven Branwen’s second in command, but Vernal herself had lost far more, her life blood staining the Valean forest floor.

Next to her stood Pyrrha, his other closest friend, already a champion of gladiatorial combat and the strongest out of all of them in close quarters combat. He had no bitter feelings over that, none of them did. Pyrrha was a good friend, and just as human as the rest of them...even if she could beat all of them working together against her with ease.

The food was wonderful; the chefs of his family had gone out of their way to make sure that not only his favorites were there, but the favorites of his friends as well. It may have been his day, but he wanted them to enjoy it as well.

His presents had been grand, as well. A new set of Diplomatic robes for formal situations, some customized armor, both signifying his new station as upcoming head of house. His friends had given him great gifts as well.

Lie had given him a knife like one of his own, a wicked thing that was designed to slip through plates of armor to pierce skin. A fine groove along the blade led to the bolster where two minute holes were. It turned out that the butt of the handle unscrewed and liquid could be poured in, and with the depression of a small button underneath the finger guard, would flow out and coat the edge. A poison chamber. What one would expect from a family known for their assassins as much as their diplomats, really.

From Nora, he had received what looked like a shirt and pants, but he recognized the material. It was made out of Boarbatusk Leather, a very flexible, extremely durable, material that was highly resistant to cuts. He could tell from the make it was skintight and meant to go under his normal clothes. As he looked them over, he missed the bright cheeks of both Pyrrha and May, with Nora nudging them and winking.

From May, he had received a new custom sidearm, a heavy pistol that he knew was more was designed more around power, impact, and penetration than speed. He even saw on the grip their symbols, her Crosshairs and his Crescents, making him smile as he remembered them growing up together with the others, and all the trouble that they would get into.

From Pyrrha he received something similar, yet different. An arm bracer that expanded into a Xiphos Shield, much like her own, for when he used his sheath to turn Corcea Mors into a Broadsword. Etched into them were Pyrrha’s symbol of the Shield and Spear and the Arc Crescents.

As he was marveling over his gifts, he failed to see both Pyrrha and May being teased by not only Nora, but his sisters, both of them blushing brightly under the scrutiny.

The party continued well into the night, Jaune dancing with May, Pyrrha, Nora, and even Ren when Nora and his sister had shoved the two of them together as a joke, and the pair just went with it, much to the laughs and amusement of the others.

As the party wound down, and people began to retire to the guest bedrooms, his father gestured for him to follow. Jaune stood and began to follow, missing the saddened looks from Pyrrha and May, both knowing what was coming.

~x~x~x~x~

May and Pyrrha stared after the boy they had fallen for, had loved for years. They knew why his father was taking him away, and weren’t going to lie, it hurt knowing what was going to happen, what he was going to likely do.

Both turned as hands touched their shoulders. Seeing their mothers behind them, both with teasing smiles, the close friends felt heat creep up the back of their necks and into their cheeks at the knowing looks.

“No long faces, dears. You know that there is no competition, even if Jaune’s parents bought him a pair of slaves. They did the same for Alizaryn and Saphron, as well.” Athena Nikos murmured, patting her daughter’s cheek. Pyrrha tried to take comfort in those words, she truly did.

May, however, spoke what they were both feeling. Scowling off to the side, she muttered, “Yeah, but you have to remember, Saphron married and has a child with her slave...well, ex-slave now.” there was no heat in her tone. Terra Cotta, or Terra Cotta-Arc now, was the beloved wife of Saphron, the second child of the Arc clan, and everyone had been doting over the small baby boy that held a mix of Arc features and of Terra herself.

May squeaked as her mother thumped her gently on the forehead. “None of that, dear daughter. Focus on the fact that you still have a chance. Both of you do. Neither of you were taught to give up, why start now?”

Both May and Pyrrha felt a burst of renewed energy. That’s right, they had years on the two new servants. They’d get their husband! Though it might take a bit of work...Jaune hadn’t noticed their feelings yet, but they also knew that it was partially their own fault as well.

~x~x~x~x~

Jaune walked with his father down the hallways of their home, heading towards his new bedroom, one that he had received for becoming an adult of the family, rather than a child in an adult’s body. The walk was silent, making him wonder what was happening.

Finally, his father spoke. “Jaune, as you know, there is an extra present that all members of the Arc family get upon their Coming of Age.” he said, getting a nod from the younger male. It had been tradition that all children had gotten slaves/servants upon their coming of age. His father had; Maria Calavera had been with them since his father had reached eighteen. Alizaryn, his eldest sister had her own, Elm Ederne, a powerfully built woman who was a warrior through and through.

Saphron, his other eldest sister, had her own slave as well, a lovely young woman named Terra Cotta...or Terra Cotta-Arc now. His sister had fallen for and married the woman, and even asked for him to donate so they could have a child of their own. So, he was no stranger to sex.

“You know what you were taught.” Jaune nodded, he had been trained in how they handled their slaves and servants. Kindness rather than cruelty. Compassion and understanding rather than an iron fist. It was why even if the slaves were released, they hardly ever wanted to leave the Arc Family.

“These two...they came from a bad place, son.” Jaune felt a bit of dread pool within his belly at his father’s words. “But, we knew you would treat them right.” his father’s hand rested on his shoulder. The moment was serious, before the elder Arc smirked. “And don’t worry, Maria and the others set them up on contraceptives~” he teased, bursting out into raucous laughter at his son’s sputtering.

~x~x~x~x~

Two green haired woman knelt on the floor, clad only in gauzy material that didn’t cover anything. Well it did, but the material was so sheer it was completely sheer, meaning nothing was truly covered. They were quiet, both fearing and wondering what was to come.

Esmeralda Sustrai, the older of the pair, glanced to see her daughter, Emerald, sitting deathly still. She understood why. Both of them had been through several masters at this point, and been returned each time. She longed to comfort her child, but didn’t know whether or not they were being watched. And even then, could she comfort her daughter?

She had known nothing but slavery her entire life, just like her. It was fortunate for both of them that in order to return them, their previous masters couldn’t cause a lot of damage to them...meaning, they had been slapped around and bruised, but nothing permanently scarring.

As it was, Emerald had been nursing an incredible black eye and split lip from their previous mistress for ‘looking haughty towards her’ when the Arcs had come, looking for servants for their son. Esmeralda had practically thrown herself forwards, regardless of the fact she could be punished later for acting out. She had grown up, all slaves had grown up, knowing of the Arc Family. It was a family any of them hoped to be purchased by.

She found that the rumors and stories that the slaves told one another weren’t just that. The mother had been quite upset that someone laid a hand on them-even healing them with her semblance!-before looking at her husband and nodding. They had been purchased only minutes later.

It had been a whirlwind of activity afterwards, the other servants of the family welcoming them, taking them to the baths to be cleaned, then having their new ownership marks applied (hers still tingled lightly against her skin) and dressed in the gauzy silks and golden jewelry they now were adorned with.

Part of Esmeralda marveled at what they wore, no matter how flimsy and barely there the material was, she had an eye for detail. These silk dancers outfits they wore were more expensive than anything they had ever worn before.

Glancing at her daughter again, she could see her face was stoic, but she was trembling. Finally giving in, she placed her hand on her daughter’s shoulder, making her eyes snap towards her. Esmeralda fought a wince. She could see the fear that her precious daughter was trying to hide.

“It will be okay, Emerald.” she whispered, her smoky voice easily heard in the silent room. “We won’t be hurt here.” she gently squeezed her shoulder, trying to give comfort, before pulling away as she heard the door click, bowing her head submissively towards her lap, Emerald doing the same next to her.

~x~x~x~x~

Jaune thought about his father’s words as he reached the door of his new bedchambers, thinking on how he was going to handle this.

(Flashback)

“These two have had several ‘owners’ before, son.” the derisive tone of his father’s voice made Jaune squirm, even though he knew that the anger was directed at them. “Abusive louts, the lot of them! No care for human life!” His father shook his head, his slowly graying hair swaying. “Take care of them, son. They need your kindness and care.”

(Flashback End)

Jaune took a deep breath. He just needed to stay calm, keep a cool head, treat them like they were humans, even if they were his property. Grabbing the doorknob, he twisted it and stepped inside his room.

~x~x~x~x~

Emerald Sustrai never knew a life outside of ownership. But she did know that owners varied. A lot. She still was haunted by how their last one had treated them. Cinder Fall was not a pleasant mistress, or even a pleasant woman. Others hadn’t been too bad, but too often they were resold because their owners got ‘bored’ with them. Emerald was still surprised that she was pure, the male masters they had instead preferring her mother’s skills (even if she had been forced to watch), but knew that her luck wasn’t going to hold out.

After all, only one thing could happen when during their primping and preparation session they had been given contraceptives. Expensive, fast acting, contraceptives. The flimsy garments that hid nothing only added to her belief. After all, the thin silk didn’t hide the darkness of their nipples or the slits of their pussies from even themselves, never mind anyone else who looked at them.

But if her mother was right, and the Arcs were like how she had heard stories of, this couldn’t be too bad...even if a thrill of terror was running down her spine at the thought of being fucked for the first time. Part of it was honestly, how was she, a virgin, to please her and her mother’s new master? Her stomach roiled at the thought of them being sent away due to her inadequacy.

Now, the fact that she had managed to remain a virgin this long seemed to be a sword hanging above her neck rather than a relief.

As the door opened, she chanced a glance up, hoping that he master didn’t notice, she didn’t want to be punished on her first day here, and her mouth went dry. He was...handsome. He wasn’t a fat old man, nor some waif of a girl. Before her stood a warrior, born and bred.

Light colored hair, the color of the sun itself, covered his head, shining in the dim light of the room, mixed with blue eyes shining like precious stones, like the ones she had seen previous masters wear and flaunt. His face was handsome, no extra fat whatsoever, but not so thin as to appear gaunt.

His body...she fought to not fidget as she gazed over him. The outfit may have been simple, but her and her mother’s new master had an impressive body, one of strong, cut muscles that pressed against the thin shirt that he wore.

She immediately glanced down when he started to turn from closing the door behind her, trying desperately to calm the rapid pounding of her heart and the burning in her cheeks. She rubbed her thighs together gently, trying to ease the heat in her belly. She had never felt this before…

~x~x~x~x~

Jaune almost felt his mouth go dry. They were beautiful. Not in the same way as Pyrrha or May, but an exotic beauty all the same. Skin a few shades lighter than either Terra’s or Elm’s, matching the color of the chocolates that his sisters and female friends loved to snack on. Flowing mint green hair that barely fell to their chins. Eyes the color of rich rubies. Button noses, full lips.

Unbidden, his eyes fell further. Full breasts with hard dark nipples. Flat, toned bellies. Wide, flaring, birthing hips. Toned legs. And the family symbol tattooed directly over their wombs. All of this beauty, wrapped up in gauzy, see through dancers silks. He knew that Terra and Elm had a hand in this. Those two loved teasing him.

He could feel his cock growing and sliding down his inner thigh. Licking his lips, he spoke. “Hello, you two. Names?” he could be forgiven for not being the most literate, after all, Alizaryn and Saphron had both been speechless when presented with Elm and Terra.

~x~x~x~x~

Emerald did not swoon. Swooning was for the annoying waif girls that she and her mother had been forced to serve and attend to. She wasn’t one of those. However, she couldn’t deny that his voice did something to her. She swallowed, licking her lips. “E-Emerald Sustrai, Master.” she stumbled slightly over her own name, something that mortified her, but her new master didn’t notice the gaffe.

“Esmeralda Sustrai, Master.” she heard her mother purr next to her, making Emerald swallow. Her mother was definitely pulling out her tricks, like she had with their other male masters, likely hoping to draw attention onto herself rather than her...but Emerald realized two things. One, she likely wouldn’t get away from notice this time, even with her mother’s wiles, and two, she wasn’t sure she wanted to get away from his notice. The look that he was giving her wasn’t simply lust, it was...she couldn’t find a word for it.

~x~x~x~x~

Esmeralda easily slipped back into the simple mindset she had had since Emerald was born: Protect Your Daughter. It was very easy to do, no matter the gender of their master. For men, draw upon their lusts. For women, draw upon their lust, or ire, depending. Anything to protect her daughter. She could see the bulge growing in his pants, and despite her worry for what might be coming, found herself growing moist, arousal flowing through her body. It had been so long since she had been actually satisfied during sex, not since her she had been with the man who had given her her precious daughter.

But even still, she just needed to keep his attention on her, make him lust after her and her alone. Since they had been told that this was a ‘Coming of Age’ celebration, Esmeralda figured that their young master was a virgin, which meant he would be eager and have a lot of energy, but not have a lot of staying power.

...it also meant a likely lack of control once he got lost in the pleasure of a physical body. So, more reason to keep his attention on her.

But, seeing his well muscled and cared for body, Esmeralda couldn’t help but lick her lips. She couldn’t deny that he was much more appealing than any of her previous masters. Maybe...maybe this time wouldn’t be so bad…?

~x~x~x~x~

‘Firm hand, Jaune...firm, but gentle…’ the blond reminded himself. “What are your skills and talents? I know dancing is one of them.” he licked his lips again as the elder of the two, Esmeralda, shifted and raised her head to look at him, the daughter Emerald following suit. He didn’t miss the look of awe on Emerald’s face. It was something akin to how he saw both Terra and Saphron’s looks when they met.

“Yes, Master. Dancing was a skill taught to me when I was a girl, and I trained Emerald personally in the skill. As for other talents, I was trained extensively in the sexual arts, the skillset growing with every new master and mistress we’ve had. We have both also cared for ailing and children.” he could see a small bubble of dread fill her when she realized that dancing and sex were her two main skills, with some minor ability to care for the sick, and her own experience raising her own child being her other skills. But then, what other use was there for a pleasure slave?

He released a hum. “You said ‘I was trained extensively’, was Emerald not?” he saw her heart sank to her stomach, her skin loosing some of its color and taking on a more pallid look. He held up a hand to forestall any panic, turning to Emerald. “Emerald? Is this true?” he saw her tremble a bit, before weakly nodding her head. “Y-Yes, Master…”

He sighed softly, reaching out and gently cupping the girl’s, who couldn’t be older than him, face. Gently directing her face up, he gave her the gentlest smile he could. “It’s okay, there’s no shame in that. I’m surprised, certainly, you are quite beautiful.” he saw her smile weakly. “Thank you, Master.” she murmured, leaning into his palm.

~x~x~x~x~

Esmeralda watched in shock as their new master actually comforted Emerald. She had heard the Arcs were caring, but she never expected this! With any of their previous masters, weakness had been met with slaps and beatings! Not enough to scar, but enough to show them their place!

She was surprised that she hadn’t been stripped of her garments and thrown onto the expansive bed and fucked senseless already! Their last male master hadn’t even bothered doing this before attacking her body outright!

She looked up at her, their new master, as he gently pulled her daughter close like one would a lover, her precious gem curling up against him like an affectionate cat seeking attention. Normally, she would be horrified at the lack of decorum to their master, but he curled his arm around her and gently rubbed the bare skin between her dancer’s top and bottom. It was gentle, soothing, and surprisingly, non-sexual.

~x~x~x~x~

Emerald snuggled into her master’s chest, inhaling his scent, the spicy aroma of sandalwood as his hand roamed over her back, his fingers, strong with callused tips, rubbing against her skin, gently following the extremely thin, shallow scars a careless master had given her long ago. Ones given for ‘not showing proper respect’.

She knew she should feel more worried, but she found that she couldn’t. Her new master radiated kindness and comfort, something she was very unused to. She wanted, needed, more. Eventually, though, she heard her mother speak.

“Emerald, my dear, why don’t we give our new master a dance?” part of her wanted to whine, but she knew that she had likely pushed her luck further than she should with touching their master without his express permission. Nodding against his chest, Emerald slowly pulled back, a frown tugging at her lips as she left her master’s warm embrace.

Giving her master as soft a smile as she could manage, she moved back toward her mother. “Yes, mother, lets give our master a dance he won’t forget!” her voice was low, but not from fear, but rather, lust and desire.

~x~x~x~x~

Jaune swallowed as both exotic beauties stood smoothly and a set pace away from one another, no more than five steps he guessed, before they began to sway their bodies. Slowly starting, swinging their hips back and forth, the silks covering their intimates swaying, the gauzy fabric moving and giving him flashes of bare cocoa skinned lips, before being ‘covered’ again.

Breasts and hips swayed, arms moved and slowly roamed over their bodies, trailing over their torsos, cupping and squeezing and presenting their breasts to him, fingers circling their hard nipples.

The pair were obviously skilled at what they did, well practiced and a paired unit, perfectly in sync with one another. He swallowed hard as they spun slowly, the fabric that passed for a skirt fluttering, revealing the full and fat swells of their plump asses to him.

He licked his lips, his cock throbbing in his pants as he watched the pair spin again, arms behind their heads as they thrust their chests out towards him, their nipples almost pressing through the hyper thin material. Their hips rocked side to side like pendulums, both looking at him lustfully.

Jaune groaned, his dress pants almost tearing from how hard his cock was getting. Fuck, he needed relief! He knew that these two were his to do with how he wanted, but he wasn’t cruel. They may be his, but he wouldn’t force them. He was better than that.

~x~x~x~x~

Esmeralda knew that her master was aroused. She was sure that even Emerald knew; those slacks held his body well, and hid his manhood poorly. The swelling of flesh was making a distinct print along the inside of his leg. She felt herself getting moist between her thighs. It had been so long...and she could tell that her new master was caring. He would not mistreat her, or her daughter. Such kindness...needed to be rewarded.

She began to move, sauntering over, making sure to sashay her hips and subtly twist her shoulders, making her tits sway, her nipples aching as they rubbed against the thin silks she wore as she made her way towards their master, ready to use all of her talents to please their new owner.

Reaching him, she smoothly dropped to her knees before him, sitting her plump ass on her heels and placed her hands on his knees. “Allow this one to take care of your needs, master~” she purred, sliding her hands up his inner thighs, palming the thick cock and feeling the intense heat bleeding through the thin dress pants.

This close, she could already smell the musk of his body, a spicy aroma that was pleasing, nothing like the smell of her previous masters. Her hands crept up further to his belt, skillfully undoing it and reaching for his button, flicking it open to reveal...her mouth dropped open.

“…Wow…” Esmeralda turned to see her daughter had moved forwards, staring in unabashed awe at the large stalk of flesh that had snapped up and jutted out of his pants, straining hard and insistently, begging for any sort of attention.

Esmeralda smiled at her daughter. “Emerald, attend and learn.” she hummed, turning her eyes back to her master’s hard flesh. She didn’t need to turn to know that her daughter had sunk to her knees next to her obediently and was watching attentively.

~x~x~x~x~

Jaune bit the inside of his cheek, having two beautiful women kneeling between his thighs, both staring at his cock with unashamed awe. He was surprised, knowing that Esmeralda had likely had a long list of lovers, and Emerald had at least watched, so he couldn’t be the most impressive they had ever seen. But their looks also didn’t seem faked.

Even then, his cock was screaming for some sort of sensation, some sort of relief. He hadn’t ached this much in almost two years, not since the time Saphron had pulled him into her bedroom with a naked Terra and begged him (on bent knee, at that!) to give them a baby that would be considered a full-blooded Arc.

He inhaled sharply as slender hands moved and pulled his pants down more, his heavy balls falling free of his garment as Esmeralda worked his dress slacks down and off of his body, leaving him bare below the waist.

He swallowed as soft hands moved up and cupped his heavy balls. “See, my daughter?” he heard her purr, her fingers gently moving over the sensitive skin covering the fragile orbs. “This is a wonderful way to start off teasing a man…” he bit his lower lip as she bounced his aching balls in her hands.

~x~x~x~x~

Esmeralda smiled softly as she saw their master trembling already, but he hadn’t attempted for more yet. So, not a virgin, but also not used to sexual contact. She could work with that. Moving her right hand up, she gently grasped the thick stalk of flesh, shivering as the heat seeped into her hand. “Gently, Emerald...like petting a kitten.” she instructed, moving her hand up and down in a smooth motion, making their master moan and arch his hips. “That sound? That means you’re doing it right.”

Esmeralda made a few more pumps with her hand, the dribbling precum acting as lubricant, making the glide of her hand smoother and easier along his shaft. “You want to keep a moderate speed unless you’re teasing or want them to cum quickly.” Emerald likely already knew by watching her all these years, but sex lessons always bore repeating...especially since her daughter was likely going to lose her virginity today.

Glancing back at Emerald, she saw that she was staring intently at what she was doing, a red tint to her cheeks, making the mother smile. She didn’t know why this was making her blush, she had watched her do so much more...speaking of which…

Esmeralda leaned down and licked a stripe up the length of the thick cock before her, from the balls to the tip, making sure to maintain eye contact with her master, satisfaction filling her as she he groaned. His taste was clean, salty and savory, a pleasure for her palate.

Moving her tongue up more, she pressed the flat of it just underneath his head and swirled it slowly, lapping the drops of precum that oozed out of the slit and began to drip down. Moving closer, she felt someone touch her, and glancing to the side to see Emerald moving forward almost eagerly. Leaning to the side, she allowed her daughter to get between their master’s legs as well.

“Now, trail your tongue like this-” Esmeralda dragged her tongue up from their master’s balls again, from base to tip, then moved back and watched her daughter attempt, nervously sticking her tongue out and dragging it along the pillar of flesh.

~x~x~x~x~

Emerald was nervous, there was no other word for it! She had never done something like this before, despite her last mistress loving having her eat her out at all times. Her virginity may be hers in the strictest sense, but her mouth had certainly been used by her female owners. What if she was no good at it? She shook her head, casting her fear to the side and focusing on the tip, tasting the oddly sweet flavor on her tongue.

She knew she was wet, could feel her juices sliding down her inner thighs, and she knew that there was no way that she’d get away without losing her virginity today...but strangely, the thought didn’t bother her. Their new master hadn’t been rough at all with her mother...this...this would be worth it.

~x~x~x~x~

Jaune was close to cracking, these two women were driving him nuts with their beauty, their actions, the slow teasing of his cock. Esmeralda seemed to notice this, and smiled. “Master, there’s no need to be so high strung…” he watched with wide eyes as the elder of the two slipped behind her daughter, tugging the flimsy covering between her thighs to the side and revealing her soaked core, her other hand reaching down and spreading her lips, revealing bright pink insides, dripping with want, to him. “My daughter wishes to attend to your needs.”

Jaune swallowed hard, looking into the younger woman’s eyes, seeing lust and want in her ruby orbs. But he was raised better. He would make sure. “Are you sure, Emerald? There’s no going back.” he rasped.

~x~x~x~x~

Emerald’s anxiety left her, even though her heart sped up. Her master truly was kind to actually ask her if she was sure about this. But she wanted this. She actually wanted this. “Yes, master...please...take my purity as yours. All of me, all of my body, is yours. Please, claim me as yours.” she chanced a glance up, gasping as he cupped her cheek again.

She gasped again as her mother’s fingers rubbed her sensitive little core, swirling around her sensitive little button, making her pussy clench and drip. She felt her mother’s lips against her ear. “That’s it, baby...get nice and wet for our master…” Emerald’s hips bucked as she felt her mother tease that small bud with her longest finger, while her eyes locked on her master, seeing those deep blues filled with lust. All aimed at her.

Her lower lip shook, but she was no longer going to deny herself! “Please, master…” she whispered softly. She yelped as she was suddenly grabbed and pulled up, straddling her master’s thighs, his hard shaft pressing against her moist core; her eyes rolled up in her head as the thick stalk of flesh rubbed against her sensitive clit, making her shudder and shake on his lap. A large, strong hand clasped onto her rump, his fingers sinking into the soft, pliant flesh, making her whimper.

Slowly, she began to work her hips back and forth, up and down, spreading her slick fluids along the thick shaft pressed against her, gasping and shaking all the while. She...she never knew that sex was like this…

~x~x~x~x~

Esmeralda smiled softly as she watched her daughter rock her hips. There may be no penetration yet, but she knew that her daughter was in good hands. She just hoped that her master had enough in the tank to take care of her as well...she didn’t want to be left alone with her hands after this. But he was young; he was sure to be able to handle her virgin daughter and herself…

~x~x~x~x~

Jaune groaned as Emerald’s soaking core ground against his aching shaft, his hand sinking into the soft pillow of her ass. “Em...Emerald…” he fought from letting his voice be little more than a lustful growl, “I’m going to lift you up now…” he shifted his hands to her hips and began to lift her, toes curling as her slick cunt pressed down hard on his needy cock, her fluids dribbling down and running over his balls.

Positioning her above his cock, he shivered, feeling the head of his dick rubbing against almost criminally soft lips. “Emerald...you’re going to need to lower yourself...at your own pace, okay? Don’t go too fast, otherwise-!!” Jaune gasped as Emerald twisted her hips and shoved herself down, bottoming out as her bubbly ass smacked against his thighs.

He was forced to grab said rear and hold her against him as she shook and trembled on his lap, her eyes wide and unfocused, as her pussy squeezed, flexed, and rippled around his shaft. She was cumming just from being impaled on his cock. If that wasn’t an ego boost, he didn’t know what was.

~x~x~x~x~

Emerald’s eyes rolled up in her head as pleasure exploded through her body, starting at her core and moving its way up, through her belly, back, chest, legs, arms, and ending in her brain, fingers, and toes. She shook like she had touched a live wire, her core going wild around the beast that it held prison.

She inhaled and exhaled, breathing hard and fast, her breasts bouncing and nipples scraping against the thin silk she still wore, her toes curling as she shook on top of her master. Slowly coming back to herself, she looked at her master, before clenching down on the thick flesh within her. “Master~” she purred, the sound coming from her without any issue, so reminiscent of her mother, “Your pleasure slave is ready to fulfill all your desires...every. Last. One.”

For all her confidence, a squeak still escaped her as her master spun her around, and pressed her against the bed, making her whimper and her back go utterly limp as a cooked noodle on the comfortable bed. She reached up, clutching at him, her slim fingers digging into her master’s top as he began to thrust into her slowly, making her gasp and shake underneath him as he claimed her.

Was this what sex was like? Truly? Not the obviously faked stuff her mother did with their previous male masters, but being loved, cared for? Her eyes rolled up in her head again, her smooth legs, still partially covered in their silks, swinging around his hips and locking together, her toes curling as her master filled her with more pleasure than she had ever experienced. “MASTER~!!♥♥” she cried out, throwing her head back as she convulsed around him, arching up and trembling.

Her master kept moving through her orgasm, not stopping nor allowing her to catch her breath, making that crest of pleasure just rise and rise and rise, her pussy squeezing and flexing and rippling around him, trying to empty his body of his seed. She was going to go insane at this rate! Her master was going to turn her into a slut for his cock! Blackness creeping into her vision, she arched as she came for the third time in quick succession, passing out with a blissful smile on her face as her master groaned above her, going stiff and blistering heat filling her belly.

~x~x~x~x~

Jaune groaned in pleasure as he came, shooting jet after jet of thick cum into Emerald’s belly, watching her tremble and shake in her third orgasm, slumping with a wide, almost delirious smile on her face, her ruby eyes rolled up in her head.

Grunting, Jaune slowly pulled out, hating leaving Emerald’s warm and tight pussy, but not wanting to fuck her while she was unconscious. Fortunately, he had another person here to help slake his needs...turning, he licked his lips as he saw an eager looking Esmeralda licking her lips. “Esmeralda is ready to tend to your needs, master~” she purred.

~x~x~x~x~

“Ah! Ah! Ah! Yes! Yes! More, Master! More~♥♥♥!!” Esmeralda cried out, on all fours above her daughter, although she might as well be lying on top of her as their master pounded into her needy, leaking pussy, his hips slamming into her rear with loud claps, making the thick flesh ripple and shake. She groaned, her own ruby eyes clenching shut as a powerful orgasm flew through her body.

Her master was the most attentive lover she had ever had, and considering that some of their previous masters had passed her around like a party favor at parties, that was saying something! But she forced those memories from her mind, focusing instead on the thick cock slamming into her body and giving her pleasure that she had never felt before.

“MmmmmmmMaaaasssstteeerrrrr~♥♥♥♥!!” she wailed, arching as his hand came down on her cheek, not to spank, but to grab and sink his fingers into the fat swell as he plunged into her faster and harder, making her cum and cum and cum. The only thing keeping her from outright collapsing was the knowledge that her daughter was underneath her.

“Mmmm...M-mom?” ruby eyes shot open and she looked down, to see her precious daughter looking up at her with a lazy smile on her face. “Is master making you feel as good as he did me?...I can barely feel my legs…” she moaned.

Esmeralda opened her mouth to speak, only for an extremely slutty moan to leave it, her legs quivering as she came yet again, her own cum drooling down her inner thighs. She blinked as her daughter’s arms looped around her neck and pulled her down in a loose hug. “Master...mommy’s womb needs your wonderful cum...can’t you please fill it like you did mine?” Esmeralda’s eyes widened as their master moved even faster, slamming against her pillowy rear, an undignified yelp escaping her lips as a hand (her own daughter’s hand, at that!) crept between her thighs and played with her clit, while she smiled up at her with that naughty little smile she always shared when they played with one another for their master’s entertainment...but she couldn’t help but think that it was far different this time around.

But those ponderings were driven from her mind as she flew into another orgasm, waling out, her pussy going wild around her master’s dick, trying to coax out his seed. Her master did not disappoint.

Esmeralda inhaled sharply as Emerald leaned up and pressed her lips to her own, soft and sweet, full of love and emotion. Part of her wanted to jerk back, but instead, she just leaned forwards and pressed her lips against her daughter’s just a bit firmer. Her eyes drifted shut once more. Whatever this was, she could worry about it later. For now, she was just going to enjoy what they were experiencing.

~x~x~x~x~

Jaune growled as he slammed himself to the base inside Esmeralda, her fat ass cheeks rippling as his balls snapped taut, erupting and spitting out every drop of cum still inside him into her womb. Focusing on the pleasure, he watched as Emerald leaned up and kissed her mother, gently and sweetly, making him smile.

Saphron was correct; the Coming Of Age Celebration really was the best birthday ever.

#Meeting The Mothers #Topaz #Jaune Arc #Emerald Sustrai #Esmeralda Sustrai #OC Character #AU

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pvrpleblccd · 4 years

Text

Promise.

pairing : shuntaro chishiya x f reader

tw : angst, unresolved grief, death, mentions of death, blood, violence (beating up someone), chishiya being violent

a/n : this is my first post- cndovn- but i am currently having a massive crush on this man right here <3 ALSO CHISHIYA GIVES ME MASSIVE KENMA VIBES (im sorry for the typos, i wrote this at 4 am-)

There he was again, sitting at the edge of the rooftop of the Beach, hoods on and hands in his white Nike zip up sweater, well, it was given to him. He looked down to see all of the horny animals dancing and living their life as if it was their last day. Chishiya sighed, ‘Everyone looks like their all about to die, as always.’

It was a beautiful day in this cruel country. But it’s just like any other day, people will die tonight, either because their visa will expire or die during a game. Dying in a game, probably the worst death here. Chishiya sighed again and took a deep breath, trying to erase all negativity going through his head. Though, there’s one thing that he can’t get out of his head.

“Hey, Chishiya.”

Chihsiya whipped his head to where he heard the voice. He was about to call her name, but he only saw Kuina at the door of the rooftop entrance, looking at Chishiya with a confused look. ‘Ah... I’m still hearing her voice, I must be crazy.’

“An told me you guys had a meeting, I’m just here to rely the message to you.”

The blonde male nodded and stood up, making his way to where Kuina was. No words were exchanged between the both of them, though Kuina noticed the slight mood change the male had every now and then. There are times where he’s cocky, would always slide comment when he had the chance, had his guard up, and times where he just became more reserved than ever and was cold and gloomy.

Kuina noticed, but never dared prying on it, not wanting to get on the intelligent man bad side.

Chishiya on the other side, he zipped up the white hoodie he loved very much. He entered the meeting room and sat at his place, like always, though he kept a pokerface while hugging the hoodie he was wearing. He felt several pair of eyes on him, not on him, but the zip up he was wearing. No one dared to say anything, though Niragi wasn’t having it.

“Chishiya. Were you really obligated to wear that zip up when we’re in a meeting?!”

Niragi shouted from his place, gripping hard the rifle he had in his hand. No one budge or said anything, even Hatter looked at Chishiya, both with envy and anger in his eyes.

“It was given to me. Why whouldn’t I wear it? If you’re thinking that we should share it, you, out of everyone in this room, that I don’t share what I own. And plus, if we shared it, you’d only get blood on it and dirty it, y/n managed to keep it white and as clean as possible. I won’t let your stupidity ruin it.”

“You wouldn’t know what y/n would have wanted!” Niragi stood up and pointed his rifle at the blonde male.

“I knew y/n longer than you.”

“We were still close!”

“To someone like you? I don’t think so, you’re a complete psycho, Niragi.”

“Give it a break! We’re all mourning Chishiya, espicially An! So what the hell do you mean, y/n-”

“Y/n is dead.” Last Boss said while looking at the arguing males.

The room was even more quiet than it ever was, not only with the statement, but for the bald tattooed male to speak up and empathized the dead made them slightly uncomfortable. With no one saying a thing for a minute or two, Mira stood up and talked about the card they were able to collect and that they haven’t gotten news ones for a while. An talked about the medical supplies and that she was running out from it, Hatter asked Aguni and his Militants to accompany An for a short run to grab all supplies they can gather.

She was the first one to leave, the meeting room which was understandable. When no one said anything, Hatter talked about adding a new rule. Rule number three, death to traitors.

Soon after, the meeting was done.

The blonde male made his way to his room, opening the door he saw a familiar figure sitting on his bed, when he blinked the figure was gone. Chishiya closed his room door and laid on his bed, looking at the ceiling. He never felt so confused and empty in his entire life. He never wanted to deal with anyone’s emotions or feelings, let alone his. But upon on thinking and thinking, he came to a conclusion he now only realized.

How much he loved y/n.

“Damn it. This hurts... This sucks.”

Too tired and exhausted to think, Chishiya closed his eyes and embraced the darkness that surrounded him.

“Chishiya?” A voice called out.

The blonde male turned his head, seeing a petite figure looking at him as if he was a ghost. He looked at her from head to toe and his eyes grew wide, he instantly got up and hugged the petite figure.

“Y/n?” He said in a weak voice.

The petite figure sighed in relief and hugged the male back, while letting out a small sob. They were currently in an abandonned mall, gathering food and necessities to get through the night. Y/n came back with a ton of canned food and water, while Chishiya came back with the others things they needed, such as flashlights and batteries and other things.

The both of them were catching up upon missed times and Chishiya kept eyeing on how she was dressed, grey sweatpants with a nike zip up and what looked like a swimsuit top, and the pink locker bracelet around y/n wrist. The numbers 009 was on the bracelet and the girl knew he was looking at it.

“What’s the most recent game you completed?” The petite girl asked.

“Six of diamonds, how about you?” Chishiya said, eating the canned peach. He didn’t noticed the slight spark in y/n’s eyes, but she smiled.

“Nine of hearts.” Y/n said and took a bite of her food.

A comfortable and peaceful silence was set between the two until the girl broke it.

“I want to take you somewhere.”

“Hatter, I want him to be part of the executives.”

Y/n said right after they all welcomed her back. All of them looked at her with confused and looked at Chishiya then back at y/n. The girl only smiled and put all of cards she collected on the table. Chishiya couldn’t believe the amount of cards she had in her possession, there was 14 cards in total.

“Chishiya cleared a diamonds game and is the lone survivor, I highly believe that his skills can be very useful to us. Also, I have known him before entering the Borderland. He is like a precious gem, full of hidden talents!”

She said while putting her hands in her grey sweatpants.

The blonde male was taken aback by the sudden praise, but dind’t show it. The others turned their attention to Chishiya, hearing the praise from y/n made them have a base opinion on Chishiya, he was smart and must not be harmed. Hatter started to explain the two rules to Chishiya and handed him a blue locker bracelet with the number 011 on it.

“Enjoy the Beach!”

After Chishiya settled in the Beach for a couple of weeks, he and y/n grew closer than they ever were before. The two of them became inseparable.

During one night, Chishiya and y/n were hanging out in the lobby, they were part of the first teams that finished early. Chishiya lost his other hoodie, blood was splattered on it, due to a player clung onto him begging him to help him and his collar went off.

In short words, he was currently shirtless. Y/n trying her best not to look, couldn’t help, but take a peek, thought the blonde male caught her.

“Like what you see?”

He said with a grin plastered on his face. Out of embarrassment, she took off her white Nike zip up and handed it to Chishiya, who watched her with an amused expression.

“H-here...! It’s yours now..!” She said and sprinted to elsewhere.

Chishiya sat there smiling at himself and decied to put the zip up on. He got up from his place and went off to find y/n. A part of him starting to worry, since it’s been an hour and he hasn’t found the petite girl yet. He passed the lobby at least three or four times, that’s when he started asking around.

With no one knowing where the girl was, he even asked Niragi, he too was worried so they both went on their sides to find her. Chishiya went outside and started to walk around the perimeter until he heard an oh so familiar voice coming form the sketchy alleyway.

“Were you hiding the cards from Hatter?”

“So what if I was?! I had to watch my friends die in front of me to be able to get this card! I’m not giving it to some cult leader or whatever he is!”

Chishiya rushed to the voices and saw one of the new militants holding three cards in his left hands and a gun in this right. Y/n tried to reason with the boy, but it only seemed to boil his blood even more, to the point he raised his gun. Chishiya ran to y/n side and hid her behind him, y/n on the other side was surprised.

“Put the gun down... You’re pointing it at the most important person apart from Hatter.” Chishiya tried calm the boy down, but didn’t work.

“Y/n... You remember Kirika? She was close to you right? Did you know that she gave her life up so that I can survive the game? Her last words were, ‘Tell y/n, thank you... I love you Aki-kun.’ She gave her life for me because she loved me!”

Aki broke down crying, falling on his knees and letting out pained screams. Y/n came forward tears falling down her cheek and approached Aki and gave him a hug. She careful put the gun down and caressed the top of Aki’s head.

“Kirika was a wonderful person, Aki, she was-“

Y/n sentence was cut abruptly and Chishiya took a step wondering why y/n suddenly stopped talking, he took another stop forward, his eyes widening seeing Aki’s hands was covered in blood and held a knife. He dropped the knife and moved his hand to grab the gun next to him.

“You’re all Hatter’s soldier. We have to end this, I have to end it.”

Aki grabbed the gun and slowly got up, hair covering his eyes. While Chishiya looked at how y/n’s body fell to the side and seeing a dark substance staining her grey sweatpants. A small pool of her own blood was starting to form underneath her.

Chishiya looked at Aki who was still mumbling things, but he saw red. The blonde grabbed the closest thing to him, which was a metal pipe, and ran towards Aki, hitting him with it, unable to stop himself.

Chishiya’s blood was boiling, he never felt so angered in his entire life. He kept on swining the pipe, hitting a part of Aki’s body every time. His vision was red, he couldn’t even hear the screams of his victim. What brought him back was Aguni taking off the metal pipe off of his hands. Chishiya’s face was unrecognizable, it was full of hatred, sadness, anger and disgust. Aguni never saw such expression on the male’s face before, he always looked so calm and preserved.

Something caught Chishiya off guard when he looked at Aguni. His eyes were red, as if he was holding himself back not to cry, that’s when he remembered y/n. He turned around to see An trying to stop the bleeding from y/n’s wound, but the blood was coming out and went through all of the amount of cloth that was put on it.

The blonde male rushed towards y/n’s side caressed her face while shaking his head. Tears fell on the girl’s cheek while Chishiya was telling y/n to stay with him. He soon looked at An and she was trying everything she could, all of the sudden, a small and tired voice caught his attention.

“S...shuntaro...? Ri-chan..?”

The blonde male whipped his head to look at y/n. She was smiling. Why was she smiling? She was dying, but she was still smiling. Chishiya tried to understand her, but couldn’t.

“S-spending my... last moments.. with the ones I love.. Shun... taro... I’m sorry... but pro..mise me... you’ll live, okay?”

“W..why are you saying sorry.. No. We both survive okay? Look... An... An will take care of you okay?”

Y/n turned weakly looked over the forsenic, who was doing her best to keep the petite girl alive. They made an eye contact, y/n let out a pained sigh while An shook her head. Y/n was trying to stay strong until the very end.

“Ri..chan... Thank you for everything... Take care... Big sis...”

At this point, An was crying too and shouted for other people to come help them. Y/n placed her bloodied hand on Chishiya’s cheek, wiping his tears away, he held her hand as she caressed him. She was so warm, he never knew she was this warm before. He didn’t wanted her to leave.

Just not yet.

“No.. No, you can’t leave.. Hang on okay y/n..? Help is... help is on the way.”

Y/n shook her head and let all of her tears fall, managing to give Chishiya one final smile.

“Shuntaro... I love you.”

At her words, y/n’s eyes closed and her hand went limp, landing on her body. When the other arrived, all of the executives looked at the scene before them. They were too late. An was crying, still holding on her little sister dead body, telling her to wake up and not to leave her. Chishiya sat there unable to move or say anything.

A pang of guilt hit two executives in particular and they slightly looked at each other and sighed, tears slowly coming in their vision. Aguni was behind them and his fist turned white, knowing y/n was the most important person in the Beach. She was the only one who kept Hatter in the sane side.

Niragi pushed the people aside and dropped his rifle, analyzing the dead girl’s feature. Y/n died with a smile on her face.

“She looks so peaceful.”

Chishiya woke up at the sound of the bell, indicating to gather in the lobby and group up, since the games were about to start. He felt something wet on his side and he looked at his pillow, it was wet. He touched his face and he shook his head, laying on his bed once again.

He cried. He was crying.

He looked at the ceiling and smiled sadly, clutching on his chest at the amount of pain he felt. The memory of her smiling to him was engraved in his mind and he wasn’t going to let it go.

“I never had the chance to tell you that I loved you too... I’m sorry.. I only now realized it..”

He stood up, wiping the tears off of his face, putting his shoes on and went to the lobby. He put his hood on and tucked his hands in the pockets, he analyzed everyone and he nodded to himself.

‘I will keep my promise.’

#alice in borderland #aib #alice in borderland imagines #aib imagine #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #shuntaro chishiya x reader #angst #chishiya x reader #aib x reader #alice in borderland x reader #x reader #reblog is appreciated

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tommyparkerr · 3 years

Text

Enough | Shawn Mendes x Reader

Alright y’all here’s one of my dusty old docs I happened to stumble across in my every-now-and-again clean up of Google Docs. Just as a disclaimer, I wrote this in 2018 so no one is allowed to judge me for this, okay? Okay.

Words: 3.0k

Warnings: Panic/anxiety attack (though it’s presented differently than the majority I’ve seen), some angst, Shawn being stupid, crying

-Masterlist-

E N O U G H :

How’d studio go?

You were hesitant to send the text but did it anyway. You hoped for a positive response, but with the way things had been lately it was highly unlikely. Still, you so badly wanted to give Shawn the benefit of the doubt so you decided you would wait until his response proved you differently. After two hours had passed and he still hadn’t replied, however, you got your answer, and the benefit of the doubt quickly fizzled away.

Shawn wasn’t one to just not answer you, but lately it’d been more and more reoccurring. It wasn’t that he didn’t care or that he was angry at you; it was that he cared too much and was angry at himself. You still remembered when Shawn called you after a studio day a while back, disappointed that he hadn’t managed to find any sort of inspiration. You didn’t know it then, but that was only the first of many uninspired days he’d be facing over the next several months.

The boy hid it well—the self-hatred and frustration—but you saw things that others didn’t. You were the one who saw the dark rings under his eyes before he had the chance to cover them up. You were the one who spent countless nights with him on the phone, trying and failing to reassure him that it was all right he was feeling this way and that it happened to all writers at some point. You were the one who brought him coffee with an extra shot of espresso each morning because you knew if you didn’t he would fall asleep in the middle of warm-ups.

Shawn was going to crash soon, and not in the metaphorical sense; he was going to mentally crash. In a way, he already had. But you had a feeling that these past months were going to catch up to him, the meaningless guitar strums and pointless piano chords adding up to be one too many, and he was going to crash. Hard. You just had to make sure you were there when he did.

Lucky for you your apartment wasn’t too far from his, that way when he called and asked you to come over because he needed you (and vice-versa), you could be there in five minutes or less. It hadn’t been purposeful, the close addresses, but it worked out. And you were happy it did, as there’d been numerous times the short distance was used to your advantage in emergency situations—such as the time you made cookies and wanted to surprise Shawn with them while they were still hot.

Your phone buzzed from the coffee table, startling you from your half-conscious state. You rubbed your eyes and your hand fumbled to pick up your phone.

Same.

You sighed. Somehow you knew that while you’d been relaxing in your apartment watching cheesy movies and almost dozing off, Shawn had been sitting staring at blank sheets of music in an apartment that was entirely silent apart from the experimental chords he’d strum and immediately nix.

Before you could even think, your fingers were making the appropriate movements to call Shawn. It rang a few times, the soft sound making your eyes droop again.

“Hey, it’s Shawn!”

Shawn’s voice snapped you awake and you shook your head at yourself, frustrated that you’d almost fallen asleep when he clearly needed someone to talk to.

“Hey Shawn, you oka-“

“I’m busy right now, but leave a message and I’ll be sure to call you back.”

You blinked a couple times, the switch from your boyfriend's voice to the teller machine making you stumble. You quickly hung up before a voicemail could be recorded and tried calling again, but you only got the same result.

There was no reason he shouldn’t be answering his phone when he’d texted you back only a minute ago.

An unsettling feeling washed over you and you scrambled up from the couch to find your shoes and throw on your cardigan. It was below freezing outside but you didn’t care enough to spend the extra time finding a coat and warmer clothes; besides, it was a short walk to Shawn’s place.

You called again. This time when the teller came on instructing you to leave a message after the beep, you did.

“Hey bub, you’re really starting to worry me. I’ve been calling but you haven’t picked up, and I know you have me as an emergency contact; I know my calls are going through. So, I’m coming over. Right now, actually. Hang tight, okay? I’ll be there in a few.”

You were in such a rush that you hardly even noticed the cold. You were sure you’d feel it after you sorted everything out with Shawn, but until then it had no place in your mind.

The receptionist didn’t question your presence in Shawn’s building, quite used to your late night visits, although she did look a bit concerned; you always made sure to bundle up this time of year and never went upstairs without flashing her a smile and quick hello, but now you did both, sprinting to the elevator and maneuvering the buttons to work as quick as possible.

You didn’t bother knocking when you got to Shawn’s door, instead pulling out the key he’d given you months ago and using that to unlock it. At first you heard nothing when you stepped in, making you painfully aware of your racing heart.

“Shawn?” you called out cautiously, not wanting to do anything that could possibly scare him off. You stepped further in to find the living room and kitchen clean as usual, but no Shawn. As you travelled further into the apartment your uneasiness grew stronger. “Shawn, where are-“

A mix between a shout and a groan came from the bedroom and you quickly sprinted to the area, finding that the sound had come from inside the closed—and locked—bathroom door.

“Shawn, it’s Y/N. Please open the door, baby,” you said calmly, gently.

“Get out!” he suddenly yelled after you’d made a couple more attempts.

“I’m not leaving, Shawn-“

“Get out, Y/N!”

“Shawn,” you stated firmly, not being thrown off by his irrational anger. “Open the door.”

A loud bang sounded as Shawn slammed his fist against the door, making you jump. But your resolve still wasn’t weakening.

“Leave me alone!”

“You do realize I’ll stay here all night, right?” you said truthfully. Even if he stayed angry the entire time you were here, you would much prefer it over silence. At least with anger you knew what he was doing; silence could mean anything.

“I’ll call security!” he shouted.

“With what phone?” you asked, having seen his supposed phone on the floor by his bed. Your point made him stumble for just a moment as you weren’t usually the type to fight fire with fire, but somehow you knew that tonight it might be the only way to get through to him.

“You’re trespassing!” Shawn tried.

Fire it was.

“You mean on the property you gave me a key to and never asked for back?”

Shawn paused again—only for a second. “Can’t you live your own life for once instead of following me around like some lost puppy?” he jabbed. “I don’t need your help, Y/N!”

His words that were meant to extinguish the fire only fueled it, and before you could tell yourself to stop you raised your fist and banged hard against the door like he had—so hard that your hand ached. But it had gotten his attention; you could tell due to the sudden silence on the other side of the door.

“Shawn,” you said, speaking quieter but still with unwavering tenacity. “I’m not leaving.”

The next few minutes were silent yet deafening. Just as you were about to open your mouth and say something else, a resounding shatter filled the air. You instinctively flinched and felt your heart drop when you realized what had happened.

Shawn had broken the mirror.

You snapped into action, grabbing a pair of socks and shoes from Shawn’s closet then knocking on the bathroom door again, hoping beyond hope that that was the peak of his episode and it was all downhill from here.

“Baby, please open the door.”

You breathed a quiet sigh of relief when you heard an answering click and carefully pushed the door open, taking in the sight of glass fragments scattered amongst the floor with Shawn right in the middle of it, looking unphased and too caught up in his own head to notice the mess he’d made.

“Shawn.”

He turned to look at you, his cheeks flushed and his hair a mess from constantly pulling at it. Your heart broke and you so badly wanted to reach out and wrap him in a hug, but that probably wasn’t the best move right now considering the circumstances so you held back, instead offering him the socks and shoes.

“Put these on and try to avoid stepping on the shards, okay? Go lay down. I’ll clean this up.”

While he didn’t show any reaction to your instructions, he did as you told him, carefully slipping on the footwear and treading out of the bathroom to his bed.

It took a bit of time to clean up the glass, especially when it came to scooping it out of the sink and off the countertop, but you did it, sweeping it several times to ensure there were no shards left behind. It was only when you’d finished the task, put the broom back, and dumped the glass in the trash that you went to Shawn.

He was sitting up now, his legs hanging off the side of the bed and his feet bare of the amenities you’d provided him just minutes ago. Unsure of how to go about the situation, you sat on the floor in front of him and reached for his hand. He let you have it, and you were surprised to see he only had a few shallow cuts from the breakage. You decided you’d deal with those later. For now, though, you needed to deal with the mental wounds.

You sat in silence, trying desperately to find the right words to say to get Shawn to talk to you. Lucky for you, though, you didn’t have to.

“I-I didn’t mean what I said,” Shawn said, his voice hoarse and cracking. “Any of it—all of it. I didn’t mean it.”

“I know,” you replied quietly, tracing the lines of his palm.

Shawn swallowed and shook his head, his free hand clenching into a fist. “I don’t know why I did it. I was just so-so angry and I couldn’t stop and I just…” He trailed off, his eyes laden with the self-hatred he’d been guarding from sight all these months. His eyes shut as if he knew what you‘d spotted and his head tilted away from you.

“Hey,” you said softly, interlacing his fingers with yours and working with his other hand to do the same. “Look at me.”

It took awhile but eventually Shawn complied. His eyes were red-rimmed and watery, so sad and so genuinely upset that it made your own eyes water.

You physically watched as all of the burden Shawn had been carrying around suddenly came down on him, his shoulders dropping and every muscle in his body relaxing to the point where he was falling forward. You jumped to your feet, catching his weight and pulling him into your mid-section. A broken sob left his lips, and you were quick to hold him firmly against your chest as you played with his tangled curls.

You let him cry, let his wounded hands twist into your shirt even when it rose up and exposed your abdomen, let his tears and dribbles of blood soak through the thin fabric of the only clothing you had with you. Because this was the breakdown. This was the crash.

You resisted shushing Shawn like you would a crying child, knowing that if you didn’t let him break then he wouldn’t be able to build himself back up—as much as it hurt you to watch. “I’ve got you, bub,” you whispered instead. “I’m here.”

Eventually Shawn’s tears slowed but he didn’t move, allowing you to continue your soothing touches and calming words. His hands slowly moved from your shirt to your waist, his fingers tracing patterns along the bare skin there. You felt him frown and he tilted his head up, looking at you concernedly.

“You’re freezing.”

You rolled your eyes with a small smile. It drove you crazy sometimes how utterly selfless he was, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t one of your favorite traits of his—one of the traits that drew you to him in the first place. “I’m fine, Shawn.”

“Did you wear a coat?” he insisted.

“No, I-“ You stopped at his disapproving look and exhaled. “I am fine, Shawn. It’s you I’m worried about, not me.”

Your words seemed to chase him away, as he rigidly pulled back into a sitting position and moved his eyes away from yours at the remark. You sighed and took a seat next to him, looking at your dangling feet versus his solidly planted ones before taking his hand again and guiding him to look at you.

“Talk to me, Shawn,” you simply said, your voice the gentlest you could make it.

He took a deep breath, letting it escape heavily through his nose. “I feel so pathetic.”

“Why?” you prodded, and when he shook his head you softly reminded him, “Bub, it’s just me.”

It took awhile for him to open up, but you stayed patient. You watched him as he formed the words in his head, trying to figure it out just as much as you were.

“I’m supposed to be making music,” Shawn started quietly. “I know how pathetic I look each time I walk out of the studio with nothing more than what I brought in. Everyone’s waiting on me, expecting me to do something. It’s been months—months—and I’ve got nothing. I’ve done three albums back to back with no problem, I’ve done countless shows and tours and festival runs, but I have nothing now. No music, no ideas, no inspiration—nothing. And...and it makes me nothing.”

You paused. “If having nothing makes you nothing,” you said, choosing your words carefully, “then why am I here right now?”

Shawn didn’t reply, training his eyes away from you and to the wall in front of him. You could see you’d simultaneously struck a chord with him and backed him into a corner; the only way Shawn could reply was either by telling you he didn’t know, which you both knew was false, or with self-deprecating reasoning, which you wouldn’t let slide for a second.

You swallowed, knowing your next words would be extremely controversial. “Have you ever thought that maybe this is your mind’s way of telling you it’s time to take a break?”

Shawn immediately tensed, his head snapping back to you. “I am taking a break,” he argued.

“No, you’re not,” you said, keeping your composure. “You’re working yourself twice as much as normal. You barely sleep, you hardly eat or drink anything other than what I give you, you never have the ‘time’ to hang out with me or your friends anymore, your mental health is spiralling-“ You quickly came to a stop, watching the fight you’d just recently seen in Shawn’s eyes begin to drain again at the last item on your list. “Shawn, I don’t know what taking a break means to you,” you began, “but to me it means letting go of your responsibilities—letting them disappear to the back of your mind where you won’t have to see them for awhile. It means relaxing, not worrying about deadlines or expectations or anything else remotely pressuring.”

Shawn was quiet, letting your words soak in. You and everyone else (including his fans) agreed it was time he took a break, but getting Shawn to agree himself was a whole other challenge.

“I just…” He struggled for a moment, fiddling with his fingers and looking down. “I just feel like I’m not enough.”

There it is, you thought sadly.

You gently grasped his chin and moved it until he was looking at you again. He looked so vulnerable, and you knew that whatever you said in the next moment could break him if you weren’t careful.

“Shawn Peter Raul Mendes,” you breathed, “I promise you on all the stars in the world that you are and always will be enough. And if I have to promise you that every day for the rest of my life, I will. You are enough, Shawn, and the day you aren’t is the day tomorrow never comes.”

His eyes filled with tears again. He grabbed you and pulled you into his lap, burying his head in the crook of your neck and hugging you so tightly you could barely breathe.

“You’re everything to me, Y/N,” he whispered. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you carded your fingers through his tangled hair. “Probably break another mirror.”

Shawn let out a choked laugh, his breath giving you goosebumps. He squeezed you tighter and placed a soft kiss on your shoulder. “Please don’t leave,” he whispered. “I love you so much, Y/N. I’m so in love with you, I’m sorry.”

“I love you too, Shawn,” you said, trying to hide the lump you now had in your throat. “I’m so in love with you, too. I’m not leaving, I promise.”

You held on to each other like that until the wee hours of the morning where you fell asleep in a different position but still curled up just the same. And when you woke up and were met with Shawn’s sleeping face and gentle snoring, you realized that you wanted to wake up to that every day for the rest of your life.

As if he could hear your thoughts, Shawn subconsciously hugged you closer, his lips upturned in a soft smile.

“You are enough, Shawn Peter Raul Mendes,” you whispered, prepared to mark today as the first day of the promise you’d make to him every day from now until forever. “I promise on all the stars in the world.”

---

Permanent Tags: @dahliaspidey (There were a few others here whose URLs must have changed, plus I’m redoing all of my tag lists, so if you’re interested in being added to any of my tag lists check out the link in my bio!)

Shawn/Fic Tags: @odd-lil-duck @rava13 @deamus-liv @mendesficsxbombay

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x y/n #shawn mendes x you #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fandom #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes oneshot #one shot

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lchufflepuffcorn · 3 years

Text

A blurb of future work

Alternative title: I'm not dead!

So this is a Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader. It's not yet done, or even proofread.. so be indulged (as you always are!!) It's the first time I have written for Billy, but I had a craving. Also, if you want a vibe for this, I highly suggest you listen to High school sweetheart by Melanie Martinez.

The gif isn't mine !!! I do not take credit for anything but the story I wrote !!

It first began in house education.

Billy first saw her with the baby pink apron the girls had to wear over their clothes as they tried to cook something edible. It was over her over-the-knee crimson skirt made of flowery and seemingly soft fabric, centring her waist as she transitioned from blood red to the white blouse she wore. Her hairs were held in a loose braid that left baby hair on the sides of her face, but that made her follow the strict rules Mrs. Fern was holding her class under.

He was going to his science class, a little late, because of Max -again. The director had already shouted to him that he had to slow down. So now he was speed walking but stopped right in his tracks when he caught her in the door's opening.

He was already late, so what was the harm, right? Her smile was cutting through her face like the sun would a cloud, the red of the apple-like cheeks puffed with the movement making his eyes slide easily to the temples and baby hairs resting there, caught in the sun like a halo. He tried not to look at her lips and the way they curled up with delight.

Then he started walking again.

The science class following the first seeing was long and tedious, and each time Billy would blink, the red cheeks and smiling mouth he'd seen would come back. His mind was haunted by the daydream of coming home to a wife dressed in crimson red and white, a baby pink apron around her waist and a smile to make angels jealous.

Maybe it was because it was near the second period, and he hadn't had time to have breakfast in the morning… but when class ended, the hall smelled of beef stew, apple pies and summer, even if the snow was heavy on everyone's mind.

The next class he had was P.E., And Billy saw her again.

She was collecting her books from her lockers, the same smile plastered on her face like it was her first feature. The blouse was a little see-through around the cleavage. By it was her eyes that Billy was stricken with this time. The black pearls of the eyes made him feel like he was jumping and dinging into her soul -or maybe it was the other way around- but he quickly looked away. The buzzing of students around his that had drowned out for a second came back. It was like a tornado alert in his ears.

Billy felt out of place, with his leather jacket and too-long hair and the old shirt his father had given him because they didn't have any money for him to shop with. He felt dirty even thinking about the sweet -dressed to the 'T'- preppy girl as something he could ever achieve.

But when his eyes meet her again -he looks back because… he doesn't know why actually, he just does- she smiled. Not the same smile all the other girls were giving him. The dripped in lusty venom type of smile he was used to, non. It was a genuine, quiet smile, the one that showed just a little bit of teeth and the lowering of the eyes and head after a second. Before he even knew it, it was over, but it would be engraved in Billy's head for days afterward.

If he followed the arrow of her nose, he could still see the small pendant around her neck. And the slight curve of her breast that was shadowed by the blouse.

Throwing balls had never been more challenging than that day.

#billy hargrove #billy hargove imagine #billy hargove x reader #X reader imagine #Stranger Things #Stranger things imagine #Stranger things Billy #X reader #Blurb #imagine

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softcallofdutyimagines · 3 years

Note

can I request some naga with a spetznaz reader? she is highly skilled and has been with the spetznaz for atleast a decade. and maybe her squad had to team up with naga to take down some dangerous drug lord or something and they start to fall in love. note she always wears her balaclava when she's around other people she only tekens it off when she is alone with her men or just by herself. she also has a few scars

sorry if it's too specific!

Don't Go | Naga x Fem!Reader

Oooooo sheeeeeet 👀👀👀 I'm so here for Naga x badass lady content lmao. Also, not to worry!! I love yous guy's OCs, and if this is one such instance, I'm more then happy to write some content for them. In fact, I'd be quite honored :)

Anyway, sorry for the wait but this turned into a whole ass little fic, so here we go!!

The blistering Laotian sun beams overhead. Naga is taking shelter in the branches of a tall tree, sharpening a blade and surveying the land below.

His men and yours mill around, preparing for the fight coming up.

In return for his work for Perseus, Kapano has called in a favor... One of Perseus' operators and a small squad to help him and his men take down a rival who's been getting far too close for comfort to his territory. And well... He didn't get to be in this position by playing nice.

The two of you have been tracking his whereabouts for weeks now and, at long last, the time has come. Tonight's the night, and afterwards your partnership will be through.

One last shick of the blade and then... Silence.

He looks down into the clearing and picks you out from the crowd. An easy task, considering you're wearing one of the same few balaclavas you always wear.

And he does mean, always.

He's never seen your face, despite the few times he's given you the privilege of seeing his. Somehow, he's always thought that maybe, if he removes his mask or bandana, it'll encourage you to do the same, but... To no such avail.

It's strange, you know... He hasn't a clue what you look like, and yet he can't seem to get you out of his mind. He's wondered often, but all he knows for sure is that you have the most beautiful eyes he's ever seen...

The thought of parting ways with you after tonight upsets him, even though he knows it shouldn't. This is a business arrangement only. Nothing more.

And yet... He's never met a woman quite like you before.

He could get any woman he wants in all of Laos into his bed should he please, and yet the one who actually intrigues him, he has no chance with. And that's just the thing, isn't it? He doesn't want a woman in his bed, he wants one in his life damn it!

His lonely, stressful, life...

Prostitutes and dancers are plentiful and cheap to a man like him, but company such as that does nothing to interest him. He needs... A partner.

Someone who will stay through the tough and the crazy and the fighting and the schemes. Someone to be there through the hurt and the loss and the anger and the loneliness. Someone...

Like you.

During the day, he has visions of expanding his underground empire and sharing the wealth together. At night, he dreams of a quiet life with a woman who calls his name sweetly and kisses him softly. Yes, even a feral, conniving, wild man such as he dares to dream of a domestic life after this one to grow old and fat in, from time to time.

Kapano lays his head back and sighs deeply. Surely not. You are a tigress among women, certainly not the type to dote and be doted on by a small man with a big lifestyle and personality like him.

Do you ever think of such things? He wonders.

He watches you spar hand to hand with one of your men. You're giving every bit as good as you get, and in a few moves more he's confident you'll gain the upper hand.

A thud and a cheer finds him from down below. He cracks open his eyes to see, to no one's surprise, that you have won. With a small smile and an even tinnier sigh, he claps his hands politely and slowly fades into one of his day dreams.

Just according to plan, the raid goes off without a hitch. The rival has been sufficiently delt with, and Naga has found himself considerably richer in the process. You spend most of the night laughing and celebrating as the two of you, along with your crews, haul back the loot you've captured.

The two of you take rest amongst the sea of pillows and cushions that make up his living room furniture. For the third time since you've been here face to face with him, you wince and try to play it off.

"Is something wrong?", he asks at last.

"Tsk, it's nothing. Just a cut I think", you touch your covered cheek and sigh. The woolen fabric is irritating the injury you received from the fight. Just another scar for the count, you suppose...

"Sorry, I really must be going. I should clean this up...", You move to stand, only to fall back into the pile of cushions with a hiss. It would seem that knee on knee strike you received earlier as well is catching up with you.

Naga puts his hands out to steady you, "No no! It's alright... I um...", He spares a cautious glance to the hem of your balaclava. Should he... "Would you like me to clean it for you?"

You give him an appraising look. There's no one you trust in this world with your face, aside from a select few of your men. But... You must admit.

You've developed... Feelings, for the oh so vicious little warlord. Hm, vicious only on the outside, you muse. He has a tender heart underneath it all, and you consider yourself lucky to have been able to bear witness to it, just as you are now.

"...Fine"

Slowly, carefully, you remove the mask. It's stuck to the dried blood from your wound but, with a bit of help, it's off soon enough.

You hold a hand to your injured cheek, hoping to stop up some of the fresh blood after the old stuff has been ripped away. Naga holds your mask, and he... Feels...

In awe.

You have all the beauty of a goddess, and he feels truly privileged to behold the sight of you.

"Something wrong?", You cock an eyebrow, suddenly second guessing your decision to reveal yourself.

"No, I just...", Gently, he reaches out a hand to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind your ear, "You're more beautiful then I ever could've imagined..."

His voice is quiet and distant, as though he's in a dream. As the moonlight dances through the room, he gazes at you in a state of absolute wonder until it almost makes you wish you could stay in this moment forever.

Suddenly, he shakes himself, snapping out of it. He shrinks away and breaks his eyes from looking at yours, "Sorry. I shouldn't have said that", he's quiet for a moment. You both are, as you reel from the sudden change. "I'll go get th-"

"Wait", your hand reaches out and tugs him back down. He stumbles a little and finds himself landing closer to you then he's ever been before.

The cool breath of your lips tickles the skin of his broad little nose, even as your breath seems to hitch in your throat. His deep, almond eyes lock onto your bright, shining irises, the only feature he's known you for, for all this time, before daring a glance at your parted lips.

The slightest of movements brings you closer to him, but he's been waiting for this moment far too long for gentleness.

He supports your head and shoulders before crashing his lips into yours. His lips are thick and soft, far more so then you would've expected of gang boss like himself. He suspends himself over top of you, his body only inches away as you fall back completely against the plush pillows.

You run a hand along his side as he works over your slips, rough, but slow. His body is lean and hard, but softer and pleasingly warm in certain places. He moans happily, like a dog receiving a particularly enjoyable scratching, as you gently caress his side and kiss him back.

When you're both ready, he gently breaks the kiss, only to plant one more to your forehead. He lingers there a moment, his voice the barest of whispers, "Please don't go tomorrow..." He sniffs, and if you didn't know better, you'd think he was about to cry.

He pulls back a little and shakes his head, "Or ever. I-I want you to stay...", He caresses your healthy cheek, and shyly makes eye contact with you before pressing a long, tender kiss to your lips. "I think... I think I love you"

Your heart beats rapidly in your chest, a wave of surprise over taking you. You had no idea he felt this way... Maybe you're not as crazy as you thought for all those times you've thought about him...

Honestly, you don't know if you're ready for something like this, but...

Is anyone?

You swallow your nerves, and find that a small smile breaks free as you let your anxieties go. "I think...", You cup his cheek and give a tiny kiss to the tip of his nose, "maybe I love you too"

#black ops cold war #call of duty #kapano naga vang #naga x reader #kapano vang x reader

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efkgirldetective · 3 years

Text

~part IV~ of this little prompt series { part I & part II & part III }

much love&thanks to @shaniso90 for this adjusted prompt !!! your noun/color/place worked so so well with my imposed emotion ✨

(ps highly recommend listening to tell me you love me by sufjan stevens—irrefutably/canonically jily—whilst reading)

sweater + lavender+ library + apprehension

Lily pauses, lazy with sleep, in the cusp of the hall—glimpsing round the corner James and Sirius stood in the kitchen, bent together, talking in quiet tones. She leans her head to the wall, watches James smile and laugh. He looks well-rested. He’s wearing the sweater she gave him for Christmas, lavender and woolen. One elbow already rethreaded with magic.

She presses a hand to her ribs. Afraid if she doesn’t hold her heart inside, it will spill out. Sirius leans back against the counter and flicks his wand at a simmering pan, at the toaster; she can smell eggs and nearly-burnt bread; the lingering scent of James, head heavy on his morning pillow. His fluttering lashes as he woke, slowly, culled his fingers to her neck, kissed her through halfsleep; whispered I’m here, sweetheart. I’m here.

Lily lets the fingers shift down; rest on her belly. Tender and soft. She steps into the kitchen.

“Morning, sleepy,” James murmurs when she tucks herself into his side, feeling the sweater between her fingers, feeling his warmth and his being here, being alive. Gripping at the loops of his jeans. Unwilling to let go.

“Toast, Evans?” Sirius asks, slipping past them. “Eggs?”

They share slow breakfast. Peter joins not long after and steeps tea just the way they all like. They laugh when Remus finally emerges, disgruntled and bedheaded, shoving at Sirius lightheartedly as he’s pulled in for a kiss; hands touching necks. Lily keeps herself connected to James; hand on his leg as it bounces under the table; mouth pressed into his shoulder when he refills her juice; fingers moving up through his hair, still damp from a shower. As if he’ll stay, just here, if she can keep him steady. As if touch could save him—any of them.

“Come with me to the library?” Lily wonders as the table breaks up— Remus fully awake and talking aloud through his list of Saturday chores, Sirius groaning that they ought to just go back to bed and loiter, Peter insisting on clearing the dishes, jostling a kind and gentle hand at James’ shoulder—“I’ve got books to return.”

They pile on their corduroy coats and cast warming charms and walk down the street through late November leaves, sunlight yellow and cold. Lily concentrates on the feeling of their hands, entwined. Hefts her tote of books higher on her shoulder. Feels his thumb rubbing her thumb.

“Okay?” he asks and in response, she brings the thumb up to her lips.

The Muggle library is scarce with patrons. Lily returns her books and chats for a moment with sweet, silver-haired Fran. “You’re quite glowing, love,” the librarian says as Lily shuffles a stack of new books into the tote. “Has that tall handsome mister gone and given you a ring?”

Lily smiles—and it bursts in jest as much in sadness. “Not yet, Fran, no ring.”

“He’s a right plonker should he not be ring shopping, at least. Tell him I said that, would you now?”

Lily finds James in the back of the library, flipping through a book on car mechanics, muttering on about how bloody impossible it all is, sans spellwork. The glass-ceilinged atrium above scatters gold light over the floor, over the stacks; catches in his dark hair. Lily feels the heart-spill, tenfold. Fits herself to his back and wraps her arms around his body; buries her face in his coat.

“Lils?” he asks, spreading his hands over hers.

“I love you,” she tells his coat.

He twists around fully and cradles her jaw and the library feels immense—but, still, too small. She chokes on the weight of her nerves, on the weight of the future. “You’re pale,” he murmurs, and she shuts her eyes. “Really, is everything okay?”

“Let’s walk,” she diverts, eager for someplace else to breathe.

They walk to a nearby park. The sun has dimmed behind clouds. Lily feels her footsteps very intentionally. Tucked into the crook of his body, she knows this is before. The after, unknowable. They will never be the same.

They meander to a bench with a nice view of a small pond, catered in late autumn by dreary clouded algae, birds splashing their wings in the water.

James doesn’t push—knowing, perhaps, that the words are glomming in her throat, that her fear and panic and wrong time wrong time wrong time are fraught enough to bury any thrill; affection; growth.

She asks, to stall, “your leg?”

He gives her a small smile. “Aches, just a little.”

“Good,” she nods, breathing out, running her hand down his arm; feeling his eyes on her. She looks out over the water. “Good.”

A family teeters down the path behind them. The babbling child throws the skin of an orange into the grass. Lily concentrates, very hard, on the way an orange smells when its skin is peeled off; the pleasant, stinging sweet. She remembers like her own breath the day she and James shared an orange under summer sun, eighteen years old, besotted; juice dripping between fingers. I love you shimmering between them for the very first time. “Can you feel it?” he wondered, hair moved through with wind. She held his eyes and cupped his hand in hers; gave over the last slice of fruit. “I’m full of it.” She tasted the orange on his lips. Amended, “overflowing.”

“I don’t know," she whispers, now, on the cold bench, "how you’ll react.”

James squeezes her hand. “It’s okay,” he says gently. “Anything, Lils. I’m here.”

“It’s...” she smooths a hand down her wool skirt, the thick stockings beneath. Looking for something to ground. “These last weeks have been—tumultuous,” she begins, “with the Order, and the moon, and the—with you, your—”

Out in the pond, a pair of ducks submerge their heads underwater. Lily reels in the tight knot of breath in her throat; tries to swallow past.

“Love,” James says, eyebrows pressed together, shifting himself sideways, arm reaching out under her back, round her waist. “What’s happened?”

Her lips quiver. How stupid it is—how reckless. “I missed my period, fully, last month,” she whispers, toying compulsively with the hem of her skirt. “And...I’m late on my charm, I missed the appointment. In the middle of—” she cuts her head away from him; can’t bear to see his face, falling. “I didn’t go. I forgot.”

There are birds in distant trees, calling out; anxious. The memory of the child, the orange peel, and the summer sun are blurring, too much the same thing. A love without home.

A sprawl of fingers on her cheek; she lets her face turn. His eyes gone soft. “You’re—” he clears his throat and runs a thumb over her chin. “Are you—?”

No chance of swallowing this lump, now. She lets it lump. Lets herself nod, slowly.

James goes still, save the stroke of his thumb. She feels frantic to move—to gasp—to scream. But she stays in his stillness and watches for signs of life. For signs of annoyance, of anger, of this is not our time.

None of it comes.

“I know,” she says, to fill the quiet, without much of a voice, “we’re too young, and there’s—so much wrong with it, and no time for—I know I’ve fucked up, I know there’s no place for such—such irresponsible—”

“Lily,” James chokes, flattening any further defense. “Lily,” he repeats, and his eyes are wet and his hand on her chin is shaking, shaking entirely.

“Are you...upset?”

“Upset? How could I—” James searches her eyes, frantically. “Are you upset?”

She bites her lips. Finds a swell of heat, in the space of their bodies—shakes her head, suddenly certain. “No. Scared, yes, but....no,” she breathes in. “I’m not upset.”

His breath seems to rush out all at once. He hiccups on a laugh, and pulls her in desperately, arms wrapping around; she lets herself burrow. Safe and warm. His lips press into her neck without aim. His smile presses, too. “Lily,” he whispers, and even her name is safe, tucked under his tongue. “When did you—” he pulls back, wet-cheeked. She scatters it away with her thumbs. “How long have you known?”

“Only yesterday. St. Mungos sent an owl and...” she feels herself blushing. “When Mags was in, wrapping up your spells...I went to the corner shop for a Muggle test and took it in their loo.”

James blows air out through his lips. “The Muggle tests...they’re accurate?...I mean,” he restarts, deliberately, brow knit in careful concentration. “You’re—you’re absolutely sure?”

“A Healer will be able to confirm, but...” Lily extracts one of his hands and folds it over her stomach; hears his quick inhaling breath. She covers the hand with her own. “I feel...full.”

“Oh my god, Evans,” he laughs, looking up at her; voice faltering, split in two; eyes overfull with wonder. “We’re having a baby?”

To be growing something that belongs to them both; to watch him transform with the knowledge, blinking, and teary, and happy. Lily’s heart pushes hard at her ribs. The birds are calling out in the trees. In among the this is not our time: something flowering, something organic—we will make this our time.

“Yes, Potter,” she smiles, chasing his sparkling laugh; her body a home to such love. “We’re having a baby.”

#jily #fic #drabble #marauders #tag yourself im woflstar touching each others necks at breakfast #i am also the ducks in the autumn pond #and the discarded orange peel #honorable mention is fran the silver-haired librarian

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