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httpjeon · 4 years

Text

lovebug — jimin (m.)

jimin/reader | angst, fluff, smut | hybrid!au

wordcount: 12k

contents: spider hybrid!jimin, hybrid mistreatment/bullying, love self esteem/self-worth, arguments, crying, physical altercation between jimin & reader, name-calling, attachment anxiety, possessiveness, kissing, scenting, dom!jimin, manhandling, size kink/difference, fingering, dirty talk, cunnilingus, sensitivity kink, wet & messy, lots of cum, cumflation, jimins duality

— synopsis: hybrids are lovable companions for humans. unfortunately, most people simply want a cat or dog with which they can cuddle and love on. while looking for one to adopt, a lonesome hybrid of an unusual breed catches your eye.

note: part of the unadoptable series; masterlist will be coming soon!

blog masterlist

Deciding to get a hybrid is a big responsibility. They require abundant care and love — having been genetically modified as an attempt at a 'super species' when the human race was close to dying out as an attempt to preserve the DNA of humanity.

Now, however, through years of evolution, they have simply become a daily part of life as companions for humans.

After moving out of your college dorm and into a new apartment, you found yourself extremely lonely. So, you decided that perhaps you could look into getting a hybrid. You saved as much money as you could — hybrids were expensive after all.

"Are you sure you want to get one from the shelter?" your friend, Minah, asked as you walked with her on the bustling streets of Seoul, "I mean, a couple more months of saving and you could find a hybrid breeder—"

"I don't really care about that," you waved her off, "I'm not looking to get the best hybrid out there. I just want someone to keep me company."

"Still...a shelter...you don't know where these hybrids have been," she cringed, opening the door which made the bell above it ring to indicate the store there were customers, "They could have diseases or be aggressive."

"I assure you, all our hybrids are tested for diseases and aggressive ones are rehabilitated to become suitable companions," a lady wearing a uniform smiled, hands clasped behind her back. Her name tag read 'Nayeon', "Can I help you with something?"

"I'm looking to get a hybrid," you said sheepishly, heart pounding in excitement as she grinned.

"Excellent! Do you have a type in mind? We have an excellent selection of feline and canine hybrids," she looked at you expectantly as you thought it over.

"I...didn't really think about it," you shrugged, "I just figured I'd look and see if any caught my eye, you know?"

"I understand," Nayeon nodded, seemingly unbothered by your indecisiveness, "Well, you can go through those doors and have a look at the hybrids available."

"Thanks," you smiled, tugging Minah's hand until she began to follow you.

Once you pushed the doors open, you were met with a long hallway that seemed to divert left and right. The floors were white linoleum and the fluorescent lights made the white walls seem glaringly bright. The walls were lined with large viewing windows that allowed you to peer into each hybrid's room.

As you walked, you could see the cat hybrid sleeping and dog hybrids busying themselves energetically. You reached the end of the hallway and paused, looking both ways to decide where to go.

"It looks like it's mostly empty down here," Minah said as she walked a couple of feet into the left hallway.

"Then we'll go right," you smiled, taking a look in the windows. It seemed they were mostly rabbit, rodent, and reptile hybrids in this section.

You were just beginning to give up when something caught your eye — a quick flash of purple. Pausing, you backed up a couple steps to look in once again.

"Whoa...creepy..." Minah squinted into the room that was seemingly covered in webbing with a purple haired hybrid sitting with his back to you.

He didn't have any hybrid ears or a tail and he looked strikingly like a human. Minah picked up the clipboard that held the information on the hybrid inside.

"Spider hybrid?" Minah cringed and made a sound of disgust, "Have you ever heard of such a thing?"

"I haven't, no..." you tore your eyes from his vibrant purple hair to look at the clipboard. "He's 24...no specific breed."

"Don't you think the concept of having a hybrid that'd older than you...strange?" Minah asked thoughtfully, "I think I'd have to get one that’s younger than me...the power balance seems weird otherwise."

"I haven't really thought about it..." you mumbled as you looked around his room.

There was no bed, instead there was a concentration of webbing in one corner that you assumed he probably used for a bed. You could see that he was messing with something in his hands but since his back was to you, you couldn't make out what exactly it was.

"Do you have your eye on anything—" Nayeon approached the two of you and paused. "I see you've found Jimin."

"Yeah, what the hell is up with him?" Minah asked, tapping on the glass. The hybrid inside showed no signs of caring. "I didn't even know spider hybrids existed."

"Ah yes...Jimin is quite special. It's very rare to have insect hybrids," Nayeon said.

"Spiders aren't insects," you said suddenly, taking the clipboard from Minah's hands, "They're arachnids."

"Same thing," Minah mumbled, "Quit looking at him."

"There isn't much information on him," you said, looking to Nayeon as Minah scoffed at you ignoring her.

"Oh um...Jimin is..." Nayeon shifted on her feet, "Well, he's a spider...not many people want a spider hybrid. They'd prefer one they can hold and hug and show affection to. Also...he makes webs and it’s such a huge mess...just not a very house-friendly pet, you know? Most people are creeped out by him."

"Me included," Minah mumbled, side-eyeing Jimin inside his room as Nayeon nodded in agreement.

"I can't go in there...he gives me the creeps. None of the staff really go in there and to be honest he's not very social," Nayeon explained. "Jimin, can you say hi?"

"He can hear us?" you asked, eyes widening as she nodded. You were shocked to hear her speak meanly of the hybrid when he could hear her words.

"See? He doesn't really care about anyone," Nayeon explained, motioning towards where Jimin kept his back to the window as he continued to mess with whatever was in his hands.

"What can you expect from a spider? I'm pretty sure spiders are just like..." Minah motioned vaguely with her hands as she spoke, "Emotionless. They don't have like...consciousness like cats and dogs do, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah," Nayeon nodded with a sigh. "So, have any hybrids caught your eye, ma'am?"

"I actually..." you smiled lightly towards Jimin's figure.

"Oh...you really don't want him. Trust me," Nayeon shook her head. "Lots of people think they do but the second you go in there and meet him..."

"He's weird and creepy, I swear to God _____ if you get a spider hybrid I will actually beat you up," Minah grabbed your arm and tugged on you, "Please just get a cat or something I won't ever be able to come over if you get him. He's gross!"

You sighed, placing the clipboard up as you got fed up with Minah's whining. As she began to tug you away, you caught sight of what Jimin had been messing with in his hand — a little figurine made of web.

"I swear I'm never going to get the idea of a spider hybrid out of my mind now," Minah mumbled as you made your way home, "Are you seriously not going to check out any other shelters today?"

"Nah," you waved her off, "I'm pretty tired. I'll go tomorrow and see if I can find anyone."

"I have work tomorrow, I won't be able to come!" Minah whined, tossing her head back as she groaned.

You smiled, shrugging your shoulders, "I'm sure I can survive on my own. I'm a big girl."

"You say that as if I didn't stop you from getting a spider as a hybrid!" she cried, shoving your shoulder playfully, "Promise me you won't get any weird hybrids."

"I promise nothing," you turned your back to her, ignoring her whining your name as you disappeared into your apartment building.

You held your bag by your side, swinging it mindlessly as you stood in the elevator on the way up to your apartment. For some reason, your heart felt heavy and you couldn't help but flop onto your bed with a big sigh the second you stepped into your bedroom.

Staring up at the ceiling, your mind drifted to Jimin — unsure why the hybrid left such an impact on you.

When you woke up the next day, you still felt that heavy feeling hanging over you. As you got ready, you were looking up hybrid centers you could stop by to look at their selection.

Instead of going to the one you decided, a small family owned adoption center, you walked the same path as yesterday until you ended up in front of the same hybrid place you went to with Minah.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you looked at the door as you tried to decide what to do.

Suddenly, the door opened and a couple walked out snickering.

"Did you see it? How weird," the woman mumbled, "I couldn't even look at it without feeling sick."

"A hybrid like that should just be put down, no one's going to adopt it..." the man added, shoving his hands in his pockets, "It's probably just going to die in there."

"It probably doesn't even care...it's just a bug," the woman said before taking her partner's hand as they walked away.

After hearing them talk like that, you found yourself filled with determination to enter the building.

"Hi welcome!" a new woman was working at the main desk — her name tag indicating her as Yuri, "What can I help you with?"

"I'd like to adopt Jimin," you blurted out, watching as she froze where she stood blinking as if your words had thrown her through a loop.

"You...the spider, Jimin?" she asked, mouth falling open in surprise when you nodded, "I...are you sure? I mean there are plenty of other suitable hybrids—"

"I want Jimin," you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

"This has to be a joke," Yuri scoffed, customer service attitude dropping as she stared at you, "No one wants Jimin. You're just going to regret it."

"Whether I do or not isn't any of your business," you snapped, growing tired of her refusal to let you adopt him.

"How can you want a hybrid like that? Are you crazy?" she spat, narrowing her eyes to glare at you.

"What's going on here?" a sudden, masculine voice emerged from a once closed door behind the reception desk.

Yuri visibly tensed, her eyes going wide as she turned around to look, "M-Mr. Namjoon, sir...I-I didn't know you were in..."

"Right..." the man named Namjoon frowned down at her before looking at you, "Is everything alright?"

"I want to adopt Jimin and she's not letting me," you quickly ratted the rude girl out, not caring for her job after her attitude.

"Jimin?" Namjoon asked, shock evident on his face. "Are you sure?"

You were getting ready to argue again, when he suddenly reached over the reception desk to pull out a form. As he handed it to you, you realized it was an adoption form.

"M-Mr. Namjoon...surely you can't—"

"Yuri, you're dismissed," Namjoon snapped, pointing towards the door without giving her a single look. She scoffed, angrily grabbing her bag from by her chair before storming past you, muttering under her breath as she left.

You grabbed a pen and began to fill out the information on the page, acutely aware of Namjoon's eyes on you. He didn't say anything, however, so you tried your best not to pay him any mind.

Just as you were about to sign your name on the bottom, he placed his hand on the paper to stop you.

"If this is a joke..." he said, looming over you with a frown on his handsome face, "Then it's gone far enough."

"Why does everyone keep criticizing me," you mumbled, standing up straight to look at him.

"No one has ever...genuinely adopted Jimin or even really tried to adopt him," Namjoon explained, "He has been here for over 10 years...in that room, alone," you were shocked to see the way his eyes became glassy with tears, "So if you're planning...to get his hopes up for a sick joke...I really don't think he can handle it."

"I thought no one cared about him here?" you asked, watching his brows furrow,

"Who said that?" he asked.

"Girl named Nayeon," you shrugged, "I came here yesterday and she and my friend told me not to adopt him. I got annoyed so I left and came back without Minah so I could do this without her yelling at me."

"Well she's wrong," Namjoon said, "I own this center. I care for each and every hybrid that comes through those doors no matter where they come from, what breed or species they are, or how they act. Jimin is..." he sighed, "Jimin is special. No one ever looked twice at him unless it's to belittle him."

"Do people...try to adopt him as a joke?" you asked, your heart aching at the sympathetic pain that was in Namjoon's eyes as he nodded.

"A couple times," he said, "Stupid dares or attempts to look cool...they always get his hopes up only to be told it's a joke and that no one really wanted him to begin with."

"That's terrible..." your eyes burned with the appearance of tears at Namjoon's story.

"So please..." Namjoon whispered, voice cracking, "I am begging you to only do this...if you really want him."

"I really do," you said, meeting his gaze as he stared at you for several seconds. He seemed to be thinking it over, whether to believe you or not. Slowly, he removed his hand and nodded, "I'll go get him."

You nodded, watching him disappear down the hallway before signing your name on the indicated lines. Standing there, you couldn't help but think back on Namjoon's words. No doubt Jimin faced a lot of cruelty and ugliness in his lifetime. The very thought of him being shut in a room, forced to listen to people call him names for 10 years had your eyes filling with tears.

You would do everything in your power to make him happy with you.

"You're still here..." Namjoon's voice had you jumping and you spun on your heel to find him standing there — alone.

"Um...of course..." you shrugged, "Where's Jimin?"

"I didn't get him yet," Namjoon explained, walking up to you with his arms crossed over his chest, "Usually when I leave to get him...people run away. So..."

"You decided to test me," you said, chuckling when he nodded, "Did I pass?"

"You'll pass when you pay for him first," he said, rounding the reception desk to take a seat in front of the computer.

"Locking me in with the cash, huh?" you shook your head, slightly offended that he believed you were such a bad person but also understanding his desire to protect Jimin.

You opened your purse and pulled out your wallet, passing your debit card over to him. He held it in his fingers for a moment, looking at it with his jaw clenched. As you were about to question him, he punched a few things into the keyboard and slid your card into the chip reader.

"Alright," he printed the receipt and stood, handing it over to you.

"Hey..." you stopped him before he could get too far, "You only charged me $100. Isn't it supposed to cost $1,000?"

"Keep your money for Jimin," Namjoon said, giving you a dimpled smile before turning and disappearing into the double doors leading to the hybrids once again.

You stuffed the receipt into your purse and inhaled deeply as you waited for them to come back. The doors were pushed open and you turned around to see Jimin face-to-face for the first time.

He met your gaze for a fraction of a second — long enough for you to get a look at his face. His eyes were a striking amber brown with split pupils — two in each eye. The vibrant color seemed even more so against his black sclera. You could see the faintest sign of fangs poking out from between his lips. He quickly looked down at the floor as he and Namjoon approached you.

"Hi Jimin," you greeted with a smile. He didn't respond to you and you deflated slightly before looking to Namjoon, "Thank you so much. We should probably get home so he can get settled in."

"I think that's a good idea," Namjoon said, placing his hand on Jimin's back to urge him forward. The hybrid easily moved closer to you and you were able to see the wisps of web that were attacked to his hair, clothes, and skin. "Bye Jimin."

Jimin froze for a moment, looking over his shoulder at Namjoon. You watched for a second as Namjoon's eyes grew glassy and it occurred to you that Namjoon was losing Jimin after 10 years. Jimin reached out to place his hand against Namjoon's arm.

"You know..." you paused, making both of them look at you, "You have...my address and phone number on the file now. So...if you want to visit any time...you are more than welcome to. I don't live far from here...just a few blocks. I walked here today."

"Really?" Namjoon brightened up, smiling until his dimples appeared, "I appreciate that. I promise I'll visit you, Jimin, okay?"

The hybrid nodded, a smile of his own appearing — letting you see the sharp fangs in his mouth. The way he smiled caused his eyes to scrunch closed and you couldn't help but smile alongside him. He was cute.

"It's not much..." you mumbled, suddenly feeling self-conscious about your little apartment, "There's a spare room you can have but you'll have to share the bathroom with me."

He stood in the entryway, looking around with wide eyes at the living room. His mouth was open a bit and he looked amazed.

"It's...nice," he said, speaking the first words to you. His voice was soft, holding a gentle melody to it.

"Thank you," you smiled, waving him over to follow you, "I'll show you your room."

He eagerly trailed behind you, hot on your heels as you made your way down the small hallway to the last room — right across from yours.

"Is this it?" he asked as you pushed the door open, "My room?"

"Yeah, mine's across the hall," you said, stepping aside to let him step into the room. "It uh...doesn't have a bed but...I saw you didn't have one at the center so..."

"I don't need one," he said, confirming your suspicion, "Is it...alright for me to...web?"

"Um...yeah, it should be," you bit your lip, accidentally meeting his curious gaze.

"Do you not like the webs?" he asked, the happy glow around him vanishing, "I-I won't web anywhere else in the house, I promise. Or...if you think it's gross I can try not to but—"

"Hey, it's alright," you chuckled, shaking your head, "I was just worried that the web might mess up the walls or something. If there's damage then I won't get my deposit back on this place."

"Oh..." he relaxed and looked around, humming, "I don't think it will do anything. It's really soft and it's never pulled paint or anything."

"It should be fine," you waved him off with a smile, "If something happens we can lie or something," he smiled, a soft chuckle leaving his lips, "I'll leave you to do...whatever you gotta do."

"Okay," he said, a smile still lingering on his lips as you stepped out and closed to door behind you.

As you stood in the kitchen, you suddenly realized that you had no earthly idea what Jimin would eat. You hummed, going over your options before deciding you'd just ask him.

He'd been holed up in his room for a couple hours so you hoped it'd been long enough. Stopping at his door, you knocked a few times as you waited for him to answer.

"Come in!" he called and you pushed the door open.

"Whoa," you paused, looking around at the changed room.

There was a thick cave of web in the corner that he was sitting in front of, softly smoothing his hands over. He looked over his shoulder with a smile.

"I got my nest done," he explained proudly, "I didn't get to do anything else but...oh well, I have time."

"Yeah, you do," you nodded, "Hey Jimin...what do you eat?"

His smile disappeared immediately and you were worried you'd offended him somehow but before you could apologize, he spoke up, "What do you eat?"

"Um...mostly ramen or cereal, not really healthy stuff," you shrugged, "I get take out a lot — chicken or pizza."

"I eat whatever you eat," he smiled, nodding his head.

"Are you sure?" you asked, crossing your arms over your chest, "If you're just saying that because you're worried about bothering me, please don't. I have money saved up specifically for you so if there's anything special you need, Jimin..."

Jimin looked anxious for a second, twirling a piece of his web around his finger, "I really do eat anything you do but...there is something..."

"What is it?" you urged, kneeling on the floor beside him.

"It's really hard to get a hold of and I think it's kind of expensive..." he meekly met your gaze, giving you a small half-smile, "There's a special treat that Namjoon sometimes got for me — it's called SpiderSnack...it has supplements and things in it that...help web production and other stuff..."

"Do you know how to get it?" you asked, which Jimin hummed in response.

"I think there's a website online, Namjoon always told me it was delivered so..." he shrugged, sitting back on his hands, "You really don't have to get it though."

"I have no problems getting it," you smiled, patting his shoulder before standing up, "Now come on and help me decide what to get for dinner."

"Alright," he stood up and quickly followed you out of the room and into the living room.

It didn't take long for Jimin to decide he wanted a cheese pizza, which you happily ordered for him.

Once you were both finished eating, he decided to head back into his room to rest. After bidding him goodnight, you curled up on the couch with your favorite movie playing.

At some point, you'd fallen asleep. However, you were woken up by a soft sniffle coming from beside you. The sound had your eyes fluttering open, frowning as you saw Jimin sitting on the floor watching the TV play.

"Jimin?" you asked drowsily, sitting up.

He looked over his shoulder and you could see, off the reflection from the TV, there were tears on his cheeks, "S-Sorry...did I wake you?"

"What's the matter? Are you okay?" you asked, sitting up and kneeling on the floor beside him. "Why're you crying?"

"I...I don't know," he chuckled humorlessly as he wiped his cheeks, "I was trying to sleep and came out to get a drink and saw you sleeping here...I just...got emotional."

You smiled, placing your hand on his back, "A lot happened today, it's okay."

"Why did you adopt me, ______?" he asked suddenly, turning his teary gaze to you.

You were quiet for a moment, staring into his eyes — his double pupils trembling slightly, "I don't know...I couldn't stop thinking about you when I went home. I woke up that morning and I just knew that...I wanted to have you here with me."

He smiled, more tears falling from his eyes as he leaned forward and engulfed you in a warm hug. You smiled, wrapping your arms around his middle to hug him back.

"I'm so grateful..." he whispered, "No one but Namjoon has ever treated me the way you have. Even if you decide to give me back...I'll be happy because I've now felt kindness from someone."

"I won't give you back, Jimin," you promised, your own voice becoming watery with your tears, "You're here to stay and I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Hey...how old are you?" Jimin asked, taking a bite out of his toast.

"22," you replied, jumping when he gasped.

"I'm older than you!" he laughed, fangs glistening in the sunlight.

"Don't let it get to your head," you mumbled, a slight pout evident in your voice.

Jimin laughed happily, his smile contagious.

"Hey, can I watch TV?" he asked suddenly.

"You don't have to ask, go for it," you said as you collected the dishes to prepare for washing them.

Just as you turned on the water, however, your doorbell went off. Jimin was standing in front of the TV, remote in hand as he stared at the door. You noticed the strong frown on his lips and the dark look in his eyes. He watched the door as if he were ready to attack whoever was on the other side.

Opening the door, you gasped when you saw Minah's beaming smile.

"Hey!" she giggled, stepping into the apartment. "Did you—" she froze when her eyes landed on Jimin.

"Um...Minah..." you swallowed nervously, "This is Jimin. I adopted him yesterday."

"You did what?" a look of what you could only describe as disgust crossed her face as she looked at Jimin.

Jimin had lost all light to him, curling in on himself as he kept his head down. You could see his hands were shaking as he held the remote. Your heart ached at the sight.

"_____, this is ridiculous!" Minah cried, turning to you almost angrily, "You got a spider hybrid? What is wrong with you? Who the hell goes to adopt a hybrid and thinks 'hmm gee a gross webbing freak would make a good pet!'"

Before you could say anything, Jimin dropped the remote to the floor and took off down the hallway — slamming his bedroom door shut.

"Minah!" you snapped as you turned back to her, "Just because he's different doesn't mean there's anything wrong with him! He's been called names all his life, I'm not going to let someone come into my house and do it to him!"

"_____, I'm sor—"

"Just save it," you hissed, yanking the front door open as a signal for her to leave.

"You can't be throwing me out over him!" she gasped, offended, "I told you if you got that bug—"

"Just get out!" your words made her flinch and she pursed her lips before storming out.

Slamming the door, you let out a sigh. Running your hands through your hair, you realized you were shaking. You took a few deep breaths to calm yourself before making your way down the hallway to Jimin's room.

"Jimin?" you called through the door, tapping on it a couple times. He didn't answer and you sighed, "I'm coming in, okay?"

He still didn't respond and you pushed the door open. You jumped when your face was met with wisps of web. Waving your hand in front of your face, you broke the strands and stepped inside the room.

It was basically fully webbed and it felt almost like cotton beneath your feet — soft and fluffy. Making your way across the room, you stopped at the opening to his nest, kneeling down to peer in.

He was sitting down, knees drawn to his chest as he cried. Your heart ached at the sight and you sighed.

"Jimin..." you reached inside the nest to touch him but were met with a sudden, sharp slap that had you retracting your hand. You hissed in pain, bringing it to your chest as the skin burned from the impact.

"I should have known you were just like the rest!" he hissed, the glare on his face was nothing short of hateful.

"Wh-What're you talking about?" your own eyes becoming teary. You felt hurt that Jimin had hit you and was now speaking and looking at you like he couldn't stand you.

"Bringing your friend over to make me feel like shit!" he snapped, a curse surprising you, "I know you think I'm just a disgusting little insect you can step all over but I'm not!"

You gasped, flinching when he shouted the last word. Quicker than you could react, he was shooting from the entrance, knocking you to the side as he stood above you. His shoulders were heaving with anger but there were still tears falling from his eyes.

"Jimin—"

"Don't!" he shouted, shaking his head, "You're just like every other human. You're never going to accept me...I should have known you could never love me..." his anger seemed to dissipate as quickly as it appeared, "I'm not a cat or a dog but...I feel just like they do. Why...why aren't I deserving of affection and care like they are? I always have to watch normal hybrids go to good homes and find someone who will hug them and make them happy. I thought," he paused as a sob broke through his lips, hanging his head, "I thought I could be like that but instead I get stuck with a bitch who thinks it's fun to hurt me for a good laugh!"

Your mouth fell open at the insult, unable to say anything as he turned his back to you. Scrambling to your feet, you breezed past him, pulling the door shut behind you before going into your own room to cry.

The impact Jimin had on you was incredible. In just a day, you already felt nothing but love for him. But in the same amount of time, you'd managed to become the source of hatred. His words continued to bounce around your head as you stayed holed up in your room. Your phone went off, showing a few texts from Minah but you ignored them, intent on letting her know you weren't willing to forgive her for this.

What hurt the most, however, was the guilt you felt over allowing him to be hurt so severely. You'd brought him into your home to make him feel safe and just one thing went wrong and that safe space was shattered for him.

A few days went by with no sign of Jimin. You could hear him leave the room in the middle of the night to get some food or to use the bathroom before he shut himself away once more until the next night. He was doing everything in his power to shut you out and you were too scared to try and corner him. You didn't want to upset him like that again — listening to the way he cried and talked down about himself broke your heart.

He was so wrong, thinking he wasn't good enough to be loved. You wanted to tell him, but there was no way he would listen to you.

You sat on the floor of the living room, typing away on your laptop as you had an essay due for your class. You were on a roll when the doorbell ringing broke you out of your groove. Sighing, you got to your feet and opened the front door.

There was nobody at the door, however, instead there was a package sitting on the floor. Bending down, you scooped it up and brought it inside, kicking the door shut with your foot before bringing the package to the kitchen. With the help of the scissors, you managed to slice the tape and pull the cardboard flaps open.

The words SpiderSnack popped out in bright red letters and you smiled. Pulling it from the box, you took a look at it. Inside the bag looked similar to Chex Mix.

Tapping your fingers on the counter, you debated what you could do. You took a look down the hallway. He most likely wouldn't answer if you knocked on the door.

He would come out later that night, however. Taking a sticky note from the magnetic ones that were on your fridge, you wrote a quick note and stuck it onto the bag.

An olive branch, perhaps.

Smiling, you went back to your computer to attempt to complete your essay.

Entering the kitchen the next morning, you paused when you saw the SpiderSnack still sitting on the counter. The sticky note had been pulled off, crumpled, and tossed away like trash. You bit your lip to keep your tears at bay as disappointment washed over you. Attempt apparently not accepted.

You were laid in bed, watching a stupid reality TV show to pass the time as you had no desire to be up for the day. Suddenly, your phone being to angrily buzz from its place on the nightstand. Jumping, you snatched it up to see an unfamiliar number calling. Swiping to answer, you brought it up to your ear.

"Hello?" you asked through a mouthful of Lucky Charms.

"_____! It's Namjoon," you froze and sat up.

"Oh...hey, Namjoon," you winced at how stiff you sounded.

"How is Jimin doing?" the dreaded question had you casting your eyes downward in shame. How were you meant to tell the man that entrusted you with Jimin that you'd essentially broke his heart, "Is something the matter?"

"I..." before you could get any further, you burst into tears. Namjoon hurriedly spoke from the other side, urging you to calm down and tell him what was going on. After a moment of you attempting to get your breathing under control, he fell silent.

"You regret it, don't you?" his voice was dark, "Thought you wanted him and now you realize...you're trapped with a creepy hybrid you don't actually like as much as you thought you did."

"No!" you cried out immediately, your own volume startling you, "Th-That's not it at all! I just...something went wrong and now he just...he won't come out and I'm pretty sure he can't stand me now."

"What happened?" Namjoon asked, sounding less angry than he did a second ago.

"My friend came over...she got mad that I chose to get Jimin instead of another hybrid," you explained, sniffling as another wave of tears came over you, "She started saying awful things in front of Jimin and now he thinks I set him up for that."

Namjoon sighed, "What'd she say?"

Um," you thought back, "She called him a freak...I can't really remember it, Jimin and I got into a fight afterwards."

"He's rightfully upset," Namjoon's words had a sob breaking from your lips.

"I know...I-I'm so sorry, I didn't think it through. I-I was so caught up in-in getting him settled I forgot to let anyone know," you explained tearfully, covering your mouth as your breathing stuttered slightly, "Maybe I should just...give him back..."

"That would only hurt him more," Namjoon said, "Jimin's more fragile than he looks and when he's hurt he gets tunnel vision...he only wants to see what he thinks it the truth and refuses to listen to anything otherwise. I don't think giving him up is the right thing to do."

"He's only miserable here now," you mumbled, "He stays in his room all day and only comes out for a few minutes each night. It's not fair for him to live like that so he can avoid me."

"I see..." he fell silent once more, "I'm going to hang up now. Please call me when you've made a decision."

Before you could reply, he hung up and you were left with just the TV once more. You buried your face in your hands and cried out everything you needed to before laying back down to try and nap.

You heard a door creak open, rousing you from sleep. Your eyes burned as you opened them, feeling swollen from crying. Sitting up, you realized the TV was still on and night had fallen. You'd slept the day away.

Sighing, you grabbed the remote and began channel surfing for something more interesting to watch as you flicked the lamp on. It was going to screw your sleep schedule up but you didn't feel like sleeping anymore.

As you sat against the headboard, holding a pillow in your lap, you heard three delicate knocks on the door. Your heart stuttered in your chest and you called for him to come in.

He pushed the door open slowly before peeking his head inside, the mop of purple hair untamed and hanging in his face.

"I saw...your lamp turn on..." he said as he stood in the doorway anxiously.

"Ah...couldn't sleep," you explained, shrugging your shoulders.

It felt so tense and awkward around him now and that broke your heart. You bit your lip to keep yourself from breaking into tears again. Jimin slowly approached the bed, weight causing the floorboards to creak beneath him. He was silent as he stood beside you, running his tongue over his fangs.

"Please don't send me back," your head snapped up when you heard him whimper out the words. "I-I heard you on the phone...I'm sorry, ______. I'll do anything, I don't want to be put in that room again to have people stare at me like I'm a freak show."

"Are you sure?" you asked, your own tears breaking free, "I don't want you to have to live with me when you hate me."

"I don't hate you!" he cried, tossing his head back in frustration, "I'm such an idiot."

You watched as he reached up to knock himself on the head with his fist. Reaching up, you grabbed his wrist to stop him, causing him to look at you before sobbing.

"Th-The first person who takes me in and I-I go and ruin it," he whispered, breathing stuttering, "I knew I didn't deserve this."

"Jimin..." you tugged on his wrist so he would sit down on the bed with you, "I don't want you to go either. I-If you'll stay then I want you here."

He paused, meeting your gaze before wrapping you up in a sudden hug, "I want to stay here with you for as long as you'll have me. I'm happy here and I love you."

"I..." you smiled, burying your face in his neck as you smiled, "I love you too, Jimin."

The two of you exhausted yourselves from crying and you both decided to lay down. You reached over and turned off the lamp, snuggling beneath your soft fleece blanket with Jimin pressed against your side. You were pleasantly surprised by how warm he was.

"_____," he said, voice vibrating in his chest where you head lay, "I'm so sorry..."

"Hm? For what?" you mumbled sleepily, vision blurring as you watched the TV. His heart was faster than a humans and calming to listen to.

"I...I hit you and I shouldn't have done that," he said, his hand finding its way around your waist, "And I had no right to call you a bitch. I was angry but there's no excuse so I'm sorry."

You smiled, snuggling closer to him, "It's okay, Jimin. I forgive you."

Things seemed to calm down quickly and you fell back into an easy rhythm. You were happy to find Jimin eating out of the SpiderSnack that you had bought him.

"I really appreciate this, you know, ______," he said with a mouth full, "I'm sorry I didn't eat it earlier I just..." he sighed, "I felt bad for how I treated you and it felt wrong for me to take these."

"It's okay," you reassured, patting his back as you sat down with a bowl of cereal, "As long as you can eat it now."

You and Jimin dissolved into a conversation about the dream he'd had the previous night, wondering if he could look up the meaning of it. Just as you pulled out your phone to open google, your doorbell rang.

"I'll get it," you said, missing the anxious look on Jimin's face as you made your way to the door.

Pulling it open, you were pleased to see the glasses-clad face of Namjoon. He smiled sheepishly, hands tucked into his pockets.

"Hey! Come on in!" you grinned, opening the door wider, "Hey Jimin! Namjoon is here!"

There was a momentary pause before you heard the loud scrape of Jimin's chair being pushed back. His hurried footsteps grew louder until he came into view with a huge grin on his face.

"Hey Jimin!" Namjoon greeted, opening his arms as Jimin threw himself towards him for a hug, "How are you doing?"

"I'm great," Jimin breathed as he stepped back, "How are you?"

"Really good," Namjoon replied, nodding his head, "It's really good to see you. I really hope you don't mind me stopping by. I had you address from the adoption form."

"No, it's perfectly fine," you smiled, closing the door before motioning the man to come inside, "We were just eating breakfast. Would you like anything?"

"No, I'm fine thank you," Namjoon said, taking a seat on the couch.

"_____ found SpiderSnack for me," Jimin blurted out excitedly, making Namjoon smile.

"Really? That's great, now you can gorge yourself on it," he teased, making the hybrid laugh.

The atmosphere became one even brighter with the appearance of Namjoon. You could tell how happy he made Jimin and you felt thankful that Jimin at least him him outside of you.

As you stood in the kitchen, eating your cereal to give them some time alone, an idea came to mind and you smiled.

When it was time for Namjoon to leave, you asked to speak privately with him. As you stepped out and shut the door, you met his gaze.

"Do you think it'd be a good idea to introduce him to others...you know — get him some friends," you asked, flushing when he smiled.

"I think it'd be a good idea," he nodded, "Either your own trusted friends or some hybrid friends. There's lots of groups that actively get together in the community for hybrids to get to know one another."

"Really? Other hybrids don't...think badly of him?" you asked, frowning.

"Not typically," Namjoon replied, "They're typically quite uncaring of other hybrids' species...all they really care about is that they're hybrids as well."

"Alright," you smiled, "I have some friends with hybrids of their own. I'll meet with them and see if I can set something up."

"It's a good idea to slowly introduce them," Namjoon advised, "Too many new faces and scents could freak him out and make him insecure. Just expand his circle slowly and at his own pace, okay?"

"Alright, thank you, Namjoon," you smiled, bidding him goodbye.

When you stepped back inside, you were filled with a new found determination to brighten Jimin's life even more.

Your friend Taehyung and his dog-hybrid Jungkook were the first ones you contacted. They lived nearby and you had worked with Taehyung at a local cafe for about 2 years where a friendship had budded. His adoption of Jungkook was what opened your eyes to the possibility of getting your own hybrid.

"Jimin," you called from the front door, pulling your shoes on as you heard his door open. He came into view with bedhead and tired eyes, "I'm going to see some friends so I'll be gone for a little while, alright?"

"Alright," he yawned, "Be safe."

"I will," you waved him goodbye and left.

"_____!" the overexcited voice of Jungkook had a smile spreading across your face as you walked into the ice cream shop that you'd decided to meet at.

"Hey guys!" you greeted, walking up to the table but pausing when you found them, only to pause at the two new faces.

"I hope you don't mind..." Taehyung chuckled nervously, "I brought a couple friends...Hoseok and his hybrid Yoongi."

"You mentioned you have a new hybrid you're looking to integrate?" Hoseok asked, an almost blinding smile on his face.

"Um yeah, that's right...it's nice to meet you both," you smiled, taking a seat.

"What kind of hybrid is he?" Yoongi asked.

"He's actually a spider-hybrid," you said, watching all four faces turn to that of surprise, "I know it's unusual...but he's really sweet."

"Hey I didn't say anything," Taehyung chuckled, "I've just never heard of a spider-hybrid."

"They're like...crazy rare," Jungkook gasped, leaning forward, "I think they're basically an endangered species of hybrid now. There are so few of them, to be honest, I thought they were extinct."

"How'd you find him?" Hoseok asked in interest, leaning forward.

"I found him at a shelter," you explained, "He'd been there for like 10 years because no one wanted him. People are...surprisingly cruel to him."

"Poor thing..." Yoongi sighed, shaking his head, "I think it's great for you to introduce him to some friends."

"Humans can be so cruel..." Hoseok sighed, shaking his head.

"I guess we could hang out at your place in the future?" Taehyung asked, looking towards you.

"I don't think that's a good idea..." Jungkook mumbled, "He probably won't like having strangers in his space right off the bat."

"How about a park?" Yoongi asked, "If he spent pretty much all his life in that shelter then...I'm sure he'll enjoy being outside for a while."

"You know...I haven't taken him out yet..." you admitted, "Do you think I should?"

"I don't see why not," Yoongi replied, "Expand his world, he may enjoy the bonding with you."

You smiled, thanking them for the advice before you all finally ordered your ice cream.

When you returned home, Jimin was sitting in the living room with a plate of pizza rolls while he watched TV.

"I'm home," you said, closing the door behind you as you kicked your shoes off and hung your jacket up.

"Hey! Welcome home!" Jimin greeted, looking over his shoulder as he stuffed a pizza roll into his mouth, "Did you have fun?"

"Yeah!" you grinned, making your way over to the couch to have a seat.

As you did however, you felt Jimin stiffen beside you. You reached forward and stole a pizza roll, popping it in your mouth with a sigh.

"You..." he turned to look at you, a dark look on his face that sent a chill down your spine, "You smell different."

"Eh?" you raised a brow, looking down at yourself, "I...have a new body wash..."

"No you..." he leaned forward, his nose meeting your neck before he took a slow inhale, "You smell like other hybrids."

"Oh," you smiled, shaking off the flutter in your chest from his proximity, "I met with my friend Taehyung and his hybrid Jungkook and they brought their friends Hoseok and hybrid Yoongi."

"I don't like that..." he growled, running his tongue over his fangs, "I don't like their scents on you, _____..."

"I..." the deep tone of his voice has your heart skipping a beat and you flushed hot in response, "D-Do you want me to shower then?"

He didn't say anything, simply nodding his head. You could feel his gaze burning holes into you until you disappeared down the hallway. When you reached the bathroom, you placed your hand over your heart to steady it as it continued to race.

There was something about sweet, soft Jimin acting so dark and commanding that just had goosebumps rising all over your skin. You quickly decided to jump in the shower before your thoughts could go any further.

Once out of the shower, you towel dried your hair as you made your way to the living room once again. Jimin was still sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees as he gazed at the TV. He didn't seem to notice you and as you looked at him, you couldn't help but admire his features.

A sharp jawline and pretty, plump lips that he mindlessly ran his tongue over up to the soft slope of his nose and pretty eyelashes that fluttered against his cheeks.

You stepped up to the couch, finally getting his attention and he turned to look at you. His eyes traveled up and down your body, as if inspecting you, the golden glow of his eyes making those double pupils even more prominent.

He stood up, gazing down at you intently, making you shudder. Reaching up, he cupped your jaw and roughly turned your face away to expose the column of your neck. He leaned forward, nosing at the skin. Your breath hitched as you felt his lips ghost of your pulse, pausing to inhale deeply there.

"Much better..." he breathed, suddenly pulling back and dropping to the couch with a smile, "Come on, I was just about to watch A Star is Born."

As he patted the seat, you couldn't ignore the flame he'd lit within you. His sudden behavioral change left your head spinning but you took your seat beside him anyway.

"Hey Jimin?" you asked, a few days after that incedent. Jimin hadn't brought it up and you pretended it never happened. The two of you easily fell back into a rhythm.

"What's up?" Jimin asked from his bedroom.

"Do you want to go shopping?" You asked, smiling when you heard his muffled footsteps before his bedroom door opened.

"Really?" he grinned, bits of web stuck to his hair.

"Yeah, come on," you reached up to pull the whisps from his hair before he stepped out.

It was endearing how excited Jimin was as you made the short walk to the nearby shopping district. He had his hands shoved in his coat pockets as he talked animatedly about anything that came to mind.

The place was bustling, you and Jimin having to weave in and out of the many people you passed. Jimin looked around in wonder at all the shops.

"Do you want to stop inside?" you asked as he paused in front of a men's clothing shop, "You haven't gotten any new clothes since you came here..."

"Really? Can I?" he asked, eyes sparkling when you nodded.

You followed behind him into the store, the scent of cologne in the air making you wrinkle your nose. Jimin disappeared into the racks of clothing as he located the hybrid section. You decided to follow his lead, taking a look around to see if anything stood out that you could make gift him.

You reached the back of the store, finding a wall of shoes. You heard muffled voices from up front and you turned around to see the top of Jimin's purple head. Frowning, you realized there was someone in front of him.

As you approached, you could make out the words, "What are you?"

"Um...wh-what do you mean?" Jimin asked timidly.

"Your eyes...they're fucking weird..." the stranger mumbled.

"I'm a uh...spider..." Jimin replied, though you could hear his voice tremble.

"Ew, seriously?" the man, you realized, asked in disgust, "Can you make webs and shit?"

"Hey!" you snapped, making both men look at you. Jimin relaxed in relief and the stranger raised a brow, "Leave him alone."

"This bug yours?" he asked, a cocky smirk on his face.

"Don't call him that!" you spat, breezing past him to grab Jimin's hand, "Come on Jimin."

"Careful and make sure he doesn't end up splattered on a windshield!" the man laughed.

You felt Jimin's hand tighten around yours as you both left the store.

"Jimin..."

"I want to go home," he mumbled, releasing your hand before slowly making his way in the direction of the apartment.

"Okay..." you whispered, trailing behind him.

His form looked so sad, head hung and shoulders hunched. You cursed that man for ruining what could have been a perfectly lovely and fun day for the hybrid.

Once you entered the apartment, he made a beeline for his bedroom but you grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Don't, Jimin," you sighed.

"Don't what?" he asked, sounded so dejected that it broke your heart.

"Don't shut yourself away," you begged, feeling the prick of tears when he pulled away from you and made his way down the hall once again.

Instead of going into his room, however, he turned and went into your room. A small smile played at your lips in relief before you followed his lead.

He was sitting on your bed, hands folded in his lap when you entered.

"It's just a stupid name...I don't know why it bothers me so much..." he mumbled as you stood in front of him.

"It's okay..." you mumbled, running your fingers through his hand, making him shiver, "Your feelings are always valid, Jimin. If the name makes you hurt then...we just have to find a way for it not to."

"How do we do that?" he asked, looking up at your with teary eyes.

His lashes fluttered as you brushed a stray tear away, "How about we turn 'bug' into something positive?"

"Positive?" a small smile was finally playing at his lips as he looked at you, his glassy eyes shining once more, "What, you going to start calling me a love bug?"

"Jimin the love bug," you cooed, watching how face turn red until he had to break his gaze. You giggled, "Does that make you happy? Being called a lovebug?"

The way he wrapped his arms around your middle, hugging you as he laughed. You couldn't resist wrapping him up in a hug in return.

It had been such a long week and you felt drained. Jimin was bustling about as usual, happy as could be. You were bored, thinking of something to do when your phone went off.

You were elated to discover some of your girlfriends were going out to party.

"Hey Jimin!" you called as you began digging through your closet for something to wear, "I'm going to go out!"

"Huh? Where?" he asked, startling you as he appeared in the doorway of your closet.

"Out drinking with some girlfriends," you said, finally picking out a dress.

"Drinking? Will you be safe?" he asked, following close behind you as you picked a pair of shoes and placed the slowly forming outfit on the bed.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," you reassured, feeling giddy at the idea of going out to have some fun.

Jimin lingered, watching you almost anxiously until you shooed him out so you could get dressed. Keeping your makeup light, you opened the door to find Jimin leaning against his bedroom door.

"Alright, I'll be back late okay?" you said, making your way down the hall as you slid your phone into your purse, "Don't wait up."

"_____..." Jimin whined as you opened the door, making you pause. You could see he wanted to say something but he only sighed and gave you a fake smile before saying, "Have fun."

You did feel bad leaving him alone when it was clear he didn't want you to, but you needed to go out and have fun. You adored Jimin but you needed some time away from him, just some simple girl-time with your friends and drinks.

You got buzzed pretty quickly — not wasted but you were feeling pleasantly buzzed. Naturally, such a state interfered with your inhibitions and logical decision making.

Which is why you ended up bringing a man you'd met at the bar home.

It didn't occur to you, as you kissed the man and let him pin you down to your bed, to think of Jimin. He pushed the hem of your dress up and roughly yanked you close to him, making you squeak in shock.

Pinning your wrists down, he began trailing his lips across your exposed collar bones. Before his hand could reach your panties, there was a low growl that ripped through the room.

"Oh shit!" the man gasped, jumping back in shock at the appearance of Jimin standing in the doorway, "Who the fuck are you?"

"Jimin," you mumbled, sitting up to push the hem of your dress down properly.

"Get out," Jimin snarled, approaching the man aggressively.

"Wh-What the fuck are you?" the man sputtered, scrambling out of your bed as he met Jimin's eyes — his double pupils easily following his every move.

"I...y-you should probably go..." you mumbled from the bed, biting your lip as you watched Jimin bare his fangs in warning to the stranger.

"Y-You're kidding right?" the man scoffed, shaking his head, "Fucking freaks."

With his departure, you were left with a very tense Jimin. His chest was heaving with anger as he stared at you, taking a few easy strides to you.

"Did you enjoy that?" he growled, crawling onto the bed. The way he crawled over you was predatory and you couldn't help but squeeze your thighs together in response.

"Wh-What?" you breathed, keening at the feeling of his lips meeting your neck.

"Making me angry," he whispered, "Letting him taint you with his disgusting scent when you know...my scent is the only one you should have on your skin."

"I-I'm sorry Jimin..." you whimpered, your panties growing damper by the second, "I'm drunk I wasn't...thinking straight."

"Right..." he scoffed, the dominance he oozed nearly had you moaning, "I want you to go take a shower, wash his stink off of you and when you come back...I'll make you smell like you should."

He leaned back to let you slide off the bed. The way he scanned over your body, tongue sliding over his bottom lip made you clench pathetically in your panties. As quickly as you could, you made it to the bathroom and haphazardly stripped.

When you stepped back into your bedroom, Jimin was still sitting on your bed. The shower had significantly sobered you up and as you stood in front of him, you felt shy with his dark gaze on you.

"What's the matter?" he asked, a smirk growing on his face as you shifted on your feet, "You look nervous..." he stood up, the way he walked was confident and he had his head held high, "Do I make you nervous, _____?"

"I..." you licked your lips as you looked up at him, "I just really want to touch you."

"Oh?" he chuckled, cupping your chin, "Don't you mean you want me to touch you? Hm?" he leaned closer to you, his nose brushing against yours with his close proximity, "Isn't that why you brought him here? I saw the way you let him treat you, pin you down...is that what you like? You want to be treated roughly?"

Your eyes fluttered as you whimpered in arousal, the very idea of being pinned beneath Jimin's powerful form so tempting. Licking your lips, you met his gaze. You were able to see his eyes so much better and they were so beautiful and unique you could get lost in them.

"Is that a yes?" he asked, breath fanning over your lips. It took a second for you to remember where you were before you quickly nodded.

Then a fraction of a second later, his lips were on yours. The kiss started out soft, like Jimin was taking his time to enjoy his first kiss with you. Quickly, however, it turned hotter until he was licking feverishly into your mouth.

As your mind was occupied with his mouth, he reached up to pull at the hem of your towel. It easily came undone and fell to the floor — leaving you completely naked. You gasped at the cool air against your damp skin. He grinned against your lips and stepped away, leaving you feeling vulnerable.

Those enchanting eyes traveled over every centimeter of exposed skin. The urge to cover yourself was tempting and your fingers twitched by your sides.

“You are…” he breathed, tongue sliding over his bottom lip, “Stunning.”

“Jimin…” you breathed his name and you saw his jaw clenched at the desperation in your voice.

He could hear your heart pounding, could see the way your pupils displayed, and could smell your building arousal. His own cock was hard in his pants, dripping precum and no doubt making a mess.

“On the bed,” he ordered, watching as you scrambled to crawl on.

You turned and sat down, facing him. He grinned, showing those sharp fangs, at the sight of you sitting so prettily — waiting for him. You were under his control, giving your body up for him — trusting him to take care of you. The thought made his cock throb and he released a slow groan.

You bit your lip as he began to approach you, taking his time while keeping his eyes locked on you. When he was within arms reach of you, he inhaled deeply and grinned.

“I can smell how wet you are for me…” he whispered, making your cheeks flush hot.

“Y-You can?” he nodded, reaching up to gently wrap his hand around your throat. Your breath hitched as he leaned in, nosing your neck before inhaling deeply.

“Of course,” he breathed, “My senses are much more acute than yours are…and might I say, you smell delectable.”

“Y-You sound like you're going to eat me,” you whispered, making him pause.

He leaned back and met your gaze, his beautiful eyes trembling slightly as he rested his forehead against yours. Then, his eyes slowly scrunched up and he let out a little giggle that had your heart skipping a beat.

How could he go from taking your breath away with starling dominance to making your heart skip a beat with how utterly endearing he was? But as soon as that cuteness appeared, it vanished again.

“Of course I wouldn't eat you,” he whispered, slowly sinking to his knees, “But I wouldn't say no to a taste.”

You gasped as you were suddenly pushed flat onto your back. Rough hands roughly gripped the back of your knees, yanking you forward with surprising strength before pinning them open.

Your cunt was completely exposed to him and he groaned at the sight. There wasn't even a second for you to feel embarrassed before his tongue was diving between your folds.

The first thing you noticed was how hot his tongue was. The second thing you noticed was the foreign texture — similar to a cat's tongue only much softer. You could feel the barbs slide over your clit, making your hips jump.

Jimin moaned, sliding his tongue against your entrance to collect more of your sweet arousal. His lashes fluttered, enjoying the way you tightened around the intrusion.

Your fingers found purchase in his hair, not pulling but holding on. He grinned against your pussy, using two fingers to spread you open. Pulling back, he watched your hole spasm and your clit twitch in arousal.

“So small…” he whispered, bringing two fingers to your entrance, “How will you take my cock?”

“Fuck…” you gasped as he worked the two digits in. Your eyes rolled back at the light stretch, biting your lip as soon as he started scissoring them.

“Does that feel good?” he asked.

“S-So good...another finger, please,” you whined, a beg he quickly abided.

Jimin let out a soft moan of his own as he worked to fit the third digit in. Your walls were squeezing him tightly, trying to suck him in deeper.

“Y-Your tongue, please make me cum, Jimin,” you begged, lightly tugging on his hair.

He groaned at the feeling, the slight pain making his cock pulse. He had never been harder in his life.

Leaning forward, he swirled his tongue around your clit. Your reaction was instantaneous, your back arching as your walls squeezed tight.

He felt your body trembling, tensing and your breathing picking up. Working harder, he worked his fingers inside of you. Suddenly, he hit a spot that had you exploding.

You cried his name, arching so beautifully as you gushed around his fingers. He groaned at the feeling of his fingers becoming soaked in your cum. Diligently, he worked your spasming clit until you were pushing him away from the sensitive bud.

Pulling back, he pulled his fingers from your cunt. Your thighs immediately snapped shut as you trembled, coming down from the high.

He brought his fingers to his lips, enveloping them one by one to lick your cum off of them. He could feel his underwear sticking to his length from the amount of precum he was leaking. His cock ached, desperate to be buried inside of you.

He stood suddenly, gaining your attention once more. You had more or less settled down while he was in his own world. Sitting up, you watched as he stripped.

His shirt was first, dropped to a pile on the floor. Then he pushed his sweatpants down, revealing his boxers. You licked your lips at the sight.

He was big and it made your throb with want.

Finally, he pulled the last article down and he was as bare as you.

His cock was very similar to a humans in shape. It was thicker than any you'd ever taken and it was drooling precum in strings to the floor. Your mouth watered at the sight and you shuffled forward.

Jimin watched you curiously as you grabbed his hip, urging him to the edge of the bed. You looked up at him and wrapped your hand around the base — your fingers not able to touch around him.

He shivered visibly, goosebumps rising all over his skin as he reached out to grab your wrist.

“F-Fuck…” he whimpered.

“Are you sensitive Jimin?” you teased. The glare he shot you sent shivers down your spine.

Leaning forward, you took the thick head of him into your mouth. His head fell backward and he moaned — a long, drawn out moan you'd only ever dreamed of hearing a man make.

You sucked the head of him, mouth already stretched without going any further. His cock was so fat and drooling precum on your tongue with every pulse you could feel of the thick vein on the underside.

Swirling your tongue around him, his breathing hitched you could see his body tense before a bitter taste coated your tastebuds.

Your cunt was soaking by then. He had cum just from you sucking the head of his cock.

When you pulled off, his cheeks were flushed and his lips were parted with his heavy breathing. You swallowed his cum down, the consistency a little more watery than a human’s cum.

Things were still for a moment before you noticed he was still just as hard as before — and leaking more precum. He moved forward, wrapping a hand around your throat to maneuver you into moving you backwards.

You were laying with your head in the pillows, Jimin sitting on his knees. He wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked himself with a sigh.

“Pull your knees up to your chest, show me your little cunt,” he whispered.

You did as your were told, hooking your hands beneath your knees to pull them to your chest. You were completely exposed, your dripping pussy utterly vulnerable to him.

He shuffled forward, positioning his cock at your entrance before pausing.

“Will you even be able to take me?” he asked, the fat head of him sliding over you sensitive clit.

“Y-Yes please, please give it to me,” you begged, watching the way his length parted your folds.

“Are you sure?” he asked, finally looking up at you, “I don't want to hurt you.”

Your heart fluttered as you smiled, “It's okay, Jimin, it'll feel good.”

He seemed to relax slightly before the tip finding its way to your entrance once again.

Neither of your breathed as he began to sink into you. The stretch burned, your pussy not used to taking something so big. Reaching down, you circled your clit as he stuffed you full.

He watched as more and more of his cock disappeared inside of you. Quickly, he bottomed out — bumping against your cervix. You gasped at the feeling and he pulled back slightly.

“Does that hurt?” he asked, cocking his head to the side curiously.

“A-A little…just don't go all the way, okay?” you asked, making him smile and nod.

Of course he wouldn't do anything to hurt you.

Replacing your hands on the back of your thighs, he pulled out — your juices clung to his cock and made his mouth water. Pushing back in, he was mindful to not go all the way just like you asked him.

Your moans rose in volume and he could feel your body tremble beneath him. His eyes were on the way your cunt was stuffed so fucking full with him. He didn't know how you were even taking him but it was the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

You were so wet that every movement was mingled with the slick sounds of your arousal. Reaching down, he brushed his thumb over your clit, making your mewl in pleasure. He could feel the way you clenched even harder around him as he circled the bud.

“Jimin...y-you'll make me cum…” you warned, voice wobbly as your body was jostled with the movement of his thrusts.

He looked up at your face finally, your mouth was open and your eyes were glassy with pleasure. You were beautiful and it made his heart flutter.

“Want you to cum,” he whispered, working his thumb in circles as he continued to fuck you. His cock was so big he didn't even have to try to touch your spot — he couldn't avoid it.

He worked you for less than a minute before you were cumming. Your walls spasmed around him and he felt the hot gush of your cum sprinkle across his skin and over his cock. He cursed, his own cock throbbing in pure arousal at the sight of your squirting for him.

Your cries were of pure ecstasy and it sent him to his own high.

You felt him still, his mouth falling open before a low whine escape his lips. His cock pulsed a few times before he was filling you with cum.

You were surprised by how much there was — much more than he'd released in your mouth. It filled your cunt up and kept coming. His cock plugging your entrance made it impossible for it to leak out.

It was hot and you could feel his cock throb with every spurt of cum he released. You felt so full and for some reason it turned you on to be so full of his cum.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, he began to pull out. As expected, his cum gushed out once able to. It leaked to the bed and you mentally cringed as you realized what a mess it'll be to clean.

Jimin seemed transfixed on the way your ruined cunt drooled his cum. He had marked you as his — it was his scent on you now.

“_______…” he whispered, crawling up to cover your body with his.

He leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours, meeting your eyes. You were still obviously recovering but you still reached up to cup his cheek.

“I think...I think I really love you,” he whispered, watching as your eyes widened, “You're the only person who has ever...cared for me. I want to stay with you forever.”

You smiled, wrapping your arms around him in a hug, “I love you too, lovebug.”

He beamed at the nickname, pulling back to press his lips against yours. It was soft again, he was pouring every ounce of his love into it.

His touch was soft as he treated you like you were the most precious thing in his life.

And to him, you were. You were his everything.

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smeeboswriting · 3 years

Text

Hayloft | Johnny Joestar

❤️| Young lovers with their legs tied up in knots.

Pairing: Johnny Joestar/Reader. (AFAB, Fem reader | She/Her) I use third person and did not use Y/N in this one-shot. I didn’t beta-read this and I do struggle with english, so I am sorry for any mistakes.(Edited because I got something wrong before I think, please tell me if I get terms wrong)

Warnings: 🔞Adult NSFW content under the cut, read at your own risk. More details below the cut.

Summary: Loosely based off Mother Mother’s hayloft, excluding the part about the gun though. Reader is left alone with Johnny in a hayloft. (Established Relationship, porn with feelings, following my personal headcannon that Johnny is touch starved due to his depression)

Word Count: 7631 words

Quick Note: I haven’t written in several months, and I do struggle with english as a whole so I am sorry if any of this is sloppy. I wanted to get back into writing and this is my first attempt, I’m not very confident, but I figured I’d post this anyway.

Content Warnings: Risky Situations, Semi-Public Sex(Does Sex in a hayloft out in the open count?), Awkward situations, Use of vulgarity, Vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex (male and female receiving), handjobs, riding, cowgirl position, mentions of touch starved/depressive episodes. Please tell me if I missed anything that you would like me to tag. Or if I have done something wrong.

The ruthless sun peeked its head up above the horizon, standing just beyond the rolling fields of gold wheat and dry dirt until every inch of land was baked under unbearable heat. Johnny bowed his head, face peach pink and flushed with the sun’s burning kisses. He preferred the weather in Kentucky over the weather in Arizona. He huffed as he breathed in stale dry air that burned his lungs, raising his head to the front of his party and catching the tail end of Valkyrie trotting just a few paces in the forefront.

Gyro sat atop of his saddle with his hat tilted forward, casting a band of shadow across his eyes. “We should set up camp soon,” Gyro announced from the head of the party, riding Valkyrie a few paces beyond the rest. Though he spoke clearly Johnny could tell fatigue and the heat was getting to him as well. He caught sight of the way Gyro grit his teeth and kept his head tilted down to the ground, his shirt becoming damp with sweat at the front until it stuck to his skin. They definitely needed to rest soon. “We’re ahead anyway, we can spare some time.” Johnny grunted in turn, gripping the collar on his hood and fanning himself.

He checked the rear of the party, seeing her following loyally from the tail end as she sat atop her horse in all of her glory while her body rocked gently on the raised bump of her saddle. The girl caught sight of him and offered him a smile, before Johnny turned back around to face the dry cracked roar ahead of them.

They tracked further along the dirt road until the horses bowed their heads and huffed with flared nostrils, Johnny briefly wondered if one of them might drop. He pressed a hand against Slow Dancer’s thick neck, even her fur felt hot beneath his palm. He blindly reached down beside his saddle bag, grappling for his canteen until he pried it from its holster and held it up to his ear, shaking it only to find it was hollow on the inside. He cursed, dropping his arm by his side with his throat feeling much drier than before.

“Here,” he heard her voice from behind him, spinning his head around to face her but quickly glancing down when he saw her arm extended out towards him with her half full canteen pressing into his side. He said her name in question, “Are you sure?” he asked her, and she smiled at him with those generous eyes staring back up at him. “I took a drink a while ago, so you can have the rest.” She shook it, the sound of water sloshing inside the leather bound bottle making Johnny’s mouth water. He took it and took a swig, tilting his head back and drinking two big mouthfuls until his dry throat screamed in relief. He wiped his mouth with the back of his palm and handed it back to her, giving her a nod as she grabbed the bottle from his hand. Their fingers brushed against the other, making shivers roll up Johnny’s arm all the way to his shoulder. She put her canteen back into its holster and slipped the cap back on, not minding that it sounded much emptier than before.

She was always kind and giving.

Her touch lingered on Johnny’s hand and he forced himself to focus on anything else but that ache in his fingers. Her name fell from his lips as he thanked her beneath his breath, she only hummed back. He wondered if she was bothered by the heat at all, from first glance she was chipper and bright, but he could see the telltale slack in her shoulders and the way she hunched over to the cap of her hat blocked her eyes from the sun’s rays as her chest rose and fell in large steady breaths. Though it wasn’t obvious she was also experiencing fatigue from the burning hot heat.

“Look,” Gyro’s voice came from the front, Johnny turning back around and following his pointed digit out into the horizon line, eyes falling on the approaching figure of a large barn just a few yards ahead of them. It stood still in an open clearing where the fields of wheat halted beside a long dilapidated wooden fence. The doors on the withering gate nearly fallen off of its hinges and left wide open, leaving a clear entrance open to any weary traveler. The three came to a stop just beyond the picket and stared forward at the silent building that stood alone. “Wanna bet it’s abandoned?” Gyro hummed, snapping his reins against Valkyrie's back, the horse charging forward and stepping through the decaying fence, picking up pace just as he came to the barn’s near opened doorway.

Johnny prayed the barn truly was abandoned. It had been so long since they'd slept with a roof over their heads, and he would give anything to have shelter to lay his head down. He stopped at the open gate with Slow Dancer coming to a steady halt. She stood beside him on her own horse, the two waiting just a few feet away as Gyro hopped off of Valkyrie's back and landed on his feet with a huff. He approached the long neglected doors of the barn and pushed the splintering doors open with his palm. Johnny watched as Gyro slipped his head just beyond the open doorway before disappearing inside, there was a moment where neither of them could see their third party before he stepped outside with his thumbs held up. “Ours for the taking, no one’s been in here for years.” He announced with his gold grin, “Lady Luck is shining on us today.” he cheered.

Johnny glanced at the neglected building that showed its age with forsaken wood and withering structure, a part of him wondered if it was safe at all, but beggars could not afford to be choosers. He said her name to catch her attention, gesturing that she follow him, the two waltzing their horses through the degraded fence and joining Gyro’s side. Gyro left the barn door open, Johnny using this to his advantage to explore the uninhibited building. He lead Slow Dancer through the open mouth of the barn, finding himself in a shriveled and abandoned room that hadn’t been cared for in years. There was a ladder by the south wall leading up to a platform where stacks of abandoned hay loomed above the ground floor, there were a few stacks clinging to the walls and corners but there were three bales in the center of the room left all alone. Johnny couldn’t help but to think they conveniently looked like a couch more than anything.

“Oh, it’s a hayloft.” She said beside him, slipping her boots out of her saddle stirrups and hopping down to the floor. “I remember we had one of these back in Kentucky.” Johnny muttered, as she walked forward. She put her hands on her hips and looked around, “There’s so much, the place is covered in it.” She took three steps forward and kicked her foot out against the ground, bringing up dirt and stray pieces of what was supposed to be animal fodder. Single strands of hay covered the floor like dust. “I think it’s too old to give to the horses,” she sighed as she turned her nose up and sniffed the air, “It’s even lost its nose.” She explained as the scent of staleness filled her nose, unable to smell the sweet scent of hay fresh off the field. That was enough to tell her the age of the bales.

“It’d be like feeding them dirt.” She walked further into the loft to investigate, finding nothing more than bales and an empty bucket parked beside a broom. She grabbed the broom, inspecting it before sweeping the hay covered floor in an attempt to clean an area for camping. Johnny focused on her striding figure, watching her flutter about the messy barn and sweep with her body slightly bent. His eyes went from her torso down to her waist, lingering a little too long on the curves of her hips. His hands twitched, remembering how her skin felt when she had handed him her canteen and their fingers brushed against the other. She faced him just as he turned his head, eyes shifting to the wall.

Gyro stayed just beyond the loft, eyes facing the horizon “Even if the horses can’t eat any of the hay they got plenty of other options.” he called out to them, “There’s tons of wheat around here, and lots of grass to graze.” He pointed at the rolling fields they had been touring. “If we’re lucky there’s a well somewhere nearby.” He rubbed his hands together before tethering Valkyrie to a fairly sturdy post a few paces away from the shed. “But we can’t pass up shelter like this.”

Johnny knew Gyro was right, this was a blessing, a barn provided shelter with a roof and shade from the sun. He pressed his heel against Slow Dancer’s side, having the mare trot forward until she was at the edge of the three stacks of hay in the center of the room. Johnny untucked his legs from the saddle, rolling off of his horses back and slowly settling down on the bale below. The stack crunched beneath his weight, a few sticking him in the thighs but he couldn’t feel a thing. He rested his hands on the edge of the stack and found it uncomfortable at first, but the dried pile felt more comfortable than a saddle at the moment.

“Darling,” Her voice brought him back to her, she was standing in front of him with the broom held loosely in one hand and the other one pointing at Slow Dancer behind him. “Want me to tether your mare outside too?” she asked with a smile, “Until nightfall, that is.” Johnny nodded, “Alright.” he relented the reins over to her, letting her grab the leather harness from his hand. “I gotta tether my horse too, I bet they’re excited to get to grazing.” she hummed, tossing the broom aside and holding Slow Dancer’s reins in one hand and her own horses in the other.

“Oi, you two.” Gyro called from the door, making both of their heads turn to the front. “I’m going to go find some firewood so we can hopefully cook something up for dinner,” he explained, pointing his thumb up and out towards the fields. “You two stay here and watch the horses, and clean the place up a little so we can set up for the night, got it?” He asked. “Yeah, sure.” Johnny replied, settling his weight further down on the stack he had made his seat. “You got it.” she said, pinching her index and thumb together in an “Okay,” gesture. “I won’t be long, unless there’s just no god damn wood out there.” Gyro grumbled, stepping out into the yard and trudging through the fields of tall grass that brushed against his calves. Johnny watched his figure retreat until he could no longer see his silhouette beyond the open barn doors. They were alone now.

Alone together in the hayloft.

As she took ahold of their horses reins and brought them forward in her hands Johnny’s eyes returned to her figure, his skin itching as that heavy feeling settled into his chest, there was no denying the overwhelming feeling of need biting at his stomach. Suddenly the distance between them felt much greater than before, especially as she opened the barn doors ever so wider with their horses in tow. He felt deprived, yearning for touch now that it was mere inches from his grasp. Cautiously he glanced at her from beyond the open hayloft doors, shamefully imagining what she’d look like bent over a bale of hay with nothing but her shirt clinging to her arms, and he felt disgusted with himself for just a moment even if he was no stranger to her bedside.

He indulged himself a little more, remembering those lonely nights that turned warm and sweet in her arms, just the two of them tangled together in a tent with no one but the other. He wanted to be held by her again, his eyes locking on her soft arms that moved up and down with each knot she made in the leather straps until each horse was secure. He wanted those arms to hold him into her chest again.

She turned and met his eyes, making him tense, but she stared at him with total admiration. Admiration that he wasn’t sure he deserved.

She offered Johnny a smile, tethering their horses to a single post just beyond the barn beside Valkyrie. Johnny didn’t return it, glancing down at the floor with his hands balled into loose fists on his thighs. Would she sneer at him if she knew how badly he wanted to hold her on his lap?

She tugged the horses reins with one strong pull until she heard the wood creak in protest. “That outta hold ‘em.” She said aloud, stepping back and admiring her work with her hands on her hips. Johnny eyed the way her fingers curled around her waist, until she turned to him with that grin still on her plump lips. The sun had tinted her skin rose red, and pebbles of sweat clung to her round cheeks. “I guess we’re gonna be waiting a while.” She said, though Johnny was hardly paying attention. Instead he favored watching the way her legs moved as she walked towards him, the curves of her thighs felt much more pronounced in those jeans.

She sat beside Johnny, her thighs itching from the bale of hay sticking her through her chaps. Though it was oddly comfortable. She tilted her cap back and let her head fall forward, brushing the back of her palm against her brow. “Lord, it’s so god damn hot.” She said, reaching up and unfurling the top of her blouse, nimble fingers working on each button until more of her hot skin was exposed to the open air. Johnny swallowed, eyes quickly following the curve of her cleavage that peeked out from the open mouth of her blouse. He could nearly see the valley of her breasts.

He wanted to touch her.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, startling her as he tugged her into his side. She caught a glimpse of his hand just before it squeezed her hip, his fingers sinking into the hard fabric of her chaps. She was stunned before she was as pleased as Punch, leaning into his body with her head falling on his shoulder. He smelled like the sun, but she imagined she shared the same scent after hours of toiling on horseback, baking underneath the heat. “You feeling okay?” She asked, and Johnny felt the corners of his lips tug up into a grin. She was considerate, and kind. Something far too good for this world, and for him.

“Yeah,�� He answered, drawing circles on her waist with the pads of his fingertips. “Just fine.” She lifted her head and offered him that sweet smile, and he took it with wide open arms as he hugged her tighter into his body. Now, he was glad that Gyro was nowhere near them, he knew the Italian would have teased him for the sudden display of affection. Yet alone in the hayloft he could freely hold her in his aching arms. She twisted her torso until she was chest to chest with him, her arms wrapping around his firm shoulders and locking behind the nape of his neck. Her fingers brushed against the exposed skin from the low line of his hood, leaving shivers rolling up Johnny’s back. A rush of blood ran down from his chest to the base of his stomach. That was when he glanced down, noticing the obvious bump in the front of his pants making an all too noticeable bump between his legs.

He was damn near ashamed that all it took was her hands on him to get him this excited, back in the prime of his life he was no stranger to a woman’s touch, sharing his bed with many gorgeous ladies in his life that all eagerly threw themselves at his feet. Sometimes, his bed was open to multiple girls at once, constantly warm and filled. Then the accident happened, and he had grown far too used to cold nights in an empty bed, with no one even so much as batting an eye in his direction. Thinking back on it now any women he had trysts with were obscured, their faces long absent from his mind, he couldn’t even recall their names anymore. He never had deep connections with any of the women he’d slept with, they were only there for a short time, but he didn’t care. He thought he’d never be embraced so sweetly after everyone had abandoned him in the dust.

Until he met her, and she opened her arms to him despite everything that he hated about himself, and he found himself selfishly clinging to her. His grip on her tightened, fingers bunching around tightwads on her shirt. She hummed in response, pressing her cheek against his. “This is a real surprise, you’re never this affectionate.” she teased, making the bridge of his nose burn a brighter hue of red. He responded by shoving his face in between the crook of her neck and shoulders, hiding his bashful expression from her searching eyes. “Shut up.” he muttered, his mouth scraping against her skin.

“I’m only teasing, but aren’t you hot?” She rubbed circles on his back, fingers dipping beneath the hemline of his shirt, sending blood rushing straight to in between his legs. Fuck, Johnny thought, it hadn’t even been too long since they’ve last had sex but he was acting as if he was a man who was starved. He didn’t answer her, instead favoring to use his maw differently. His lips scraped against her hot flushed skin, and he relished the way it felt against his mouth. He began to pepper hot kisses up and down the arch of her throat, pressing himself against her until the heat made it feel as if he’d melt into her body. She sighed in soft delight at the contact, tilting her head back instinctively and letting him run his soft lips over her arched throat while she tangled her fingers in his thick crop of soft hair. “Johnny,” She practically sang, encouraging him to sink his teeth into the side of her neck. She yelped, practically jumping out of her skin if not for Johnny grounding her by grabbing tight handfuls of her ass and bringing her forward until her thighs were practically draped over his lap. Her face quickly became red as Johnny’s hands slipped beneath the band of her blouse, greedily taking in the feel of her bare hips and back. “Gyro will be back soon, won’t he?” She asked, finally finding words after she caught her stolen breath.

“Please?” Johnny mumbled, his voice falling into a lower pitch, much softer than before. He planted an especially wet kiss against her sun baked skin, running his fingers from her back to her front and pressing up until he felt his palms brush against her heavy breasts, and it was then he could feel her fall right into his hands. She chewed her bottom lip until it was tucked between her teeth, Johnny’s thumbs running circles over the hardening peaks of her nipples. “Only if we’re real quick,” she stuttered, “I don’t want Gyro catching us.” She moaned as Johnny cupped her through her chaps, palming her through the thick material. Johnny dragged them both to the floor, falling on the ground on his haunches while she sat right beside him. He leaned back against the hefty hay bale that was once their seat, while she scooted over until she was tucked firmly in between his legs.

She first let her hands roam the slim but firm expanse of his chest, fingers dancing across his broad shoulders and ending at the vee of his stomach. His shirt rode up on his midriff, showing off more of his skin. “You’re so gorgeous, Johnny.” She praised beneath her breath, making the blonde shuffle beneath her and turn his head to the side. “I’m not.” he mumbled, which she responded with pecking his cheek, “You are.” she insisted. Johnny fell silent, closing his eyes and refusing to answer her but shivered and leaned into her touch as she palmed him through his pants. “I can already feel you through these,” she marveled.

She had only been a virgin before he had gotten his hands on her, but with what little experience she had with him she used to the best of her ability. She wasn’t confident as she began to reach for his slacks. She gripped the hem of his pants and slipped them down the smooth curves of his waist until they wrapped around his slim thighs. His cock sprang forward instantly, half hard but not nearly at full mast. “You were already excited, huh?” She swallowed, wrapping her hand around the thick base and giving him a firm pump. “But we gotta get you ready before we can do anything.” She could feel him becoming bigger in her palm. Johnny gave a hiss, feeling her thumb roll over the weeping head though she wore the same bashful, uncertain gaze as before.

“Does this feel good?” She asked meekly, jacking him off until he was fully erect in her hand. “Yes,” he tilted his head back into the bale of hay, groaning low in his throat while he admired her in between his lame legs. She had definitely improved since the last time they were intimate, his eyes running from her curled fingers and traveling up her arm, until he focused on her plump pair of lips that pressed down into a fine line with focus. He admired her mouth briefly, watching her gentle expressions as she pleasured him with her hands. He wanted to feel her lips wrapped around his cock. He wondered if he was being selfish, wanting more than what she was giving him now, but he wanted to greedily have every bit of her now that he had her and her alone.

He called her name, making her turn her head up to meet his eyes, still wearing that sweet face of hers as her hand came to a standstill leaving himself twitching in her fingers. “Yes?” she asked, scooting forward on her knees. It took him a moment to build enough courage to open his mouth, his tongue feeling dry as he spoke “Could you use your mouth,” he asked, his voice more timid than before, “On me?”

If she wasn’t pink before she was now, but oh how he loved the way she looked at him when her face was painted red with blush. She had only pleasured him with her tongue once before, and as inexperienced as she was Johnny remembered how he melted into her mouth. She gave a slow nod, falling into his lap as she bent over and pressed her lips against the head of his length. He was full in her hands, the tip of his cock angry and red, leaking with precum as she cautiously ran her tongue down the throbbing column of flesh. He chewed the inside of lip as she took him into her mouth, giving him an especially hard suck at the head, earning an appreciative groan from Johnny.

She had already improved from last time. “That feels so good.” He breathlessly said her name as he encouraged her, sweeping the back of his knuckles against her bangs. She hummed against his length, running her tongue over the heavy underside, before bobbing her head down and gagging as the head bumped against the back of her throat. Johnny was a good six inches, but lord was his cock fat. It was enough to fit him in her mouth until her lips were kissing the base of his waist with just the head scraping the back of her throat, but the girth made her tongue flatten against her jaw. She felt him throb, pulling her head up before going back down, coating him with her spit.

It was sloppy, and inexperienced, but to Johnny it was enough to make him swoon.

“That’s good, just like that, just like that.” He didn’t care that it was messy, he wanted whatever she gave him. She was learning as she went, bobbing her head and pumping his base all in an effort to please him. Yet he had to remember that time was short, and they had little of it to waste. He caressed her cheek and gently lifted her head off of him, his hard cock falling from her mouth with an especially wet pop. “We still have to get you ready,” He told her, brushing his thumb against her puffy bottom lip before sinking it into her mouth and pressing the pad of his finger against her tongue. “Otherwise it’ll hurt,” and he didn’t want her to bleed like she did when he broke her around his cock. She gave a nod, closing her lips around his thumb, making him shudder as he reached down with his free arm and unbuckled the loops of her belt, her chaps falling off of her hips and puddling around her knees. She sat beside him, giving him easier access as they both leaned their bodies against the hay bale. She kicked her boots off, the pair of shoes landing just a few feet away from them as he worked with the rest of her clothes. He grew annoyed with the pesky layers of her clothing, now having to remove her jeans once her rancher’s chaps were out of the way. She wriggled, kicking her legs out until the pairs of pants she wore joined her boots in a heap.

He took a second to appreciate her now bare legs, running his palm down her smooth thighs and admiring any imperfections he found in her skin. He traced his fingers against the raised bumps of scratches from the wilderness or cuts from previous fights. Her chemise shorts were the only thing hugging her hips, blocking Johnny from the prize between her thighs, but it too joined their growing heap. He untied her wild rag around her throat, letting it fall to the ground before he quickly worked at the buttons of her blouse, splitting open the fabric all the way down until it opened wide around her chest. Her breasts fell free, not being held by anything else but her shirt prior to Johnny stripping her. He kept the sleeves clinging to her shoulders, the only thing on her back being her open button-down. He tipped her cap back until the hat landed on the hay covered floor, leaving her open and vulnerable beside him. He felt breathless every time he saw her like this, but his greedy hands already began to grab handfuls of her tender flesh, making her hum appreciatively and sigh in bliss as he explored her open body that was reserved for him alone.

“Spread your legs,” he told her, using his upper body strength to switch their positions so that she was pressed back against the bale with him in between her thighs. She looked flustered, with her sweat pebbled skin glistening in the sunlight that poured from the open slots in the roof, but god she was a sight for sore eyes. She glanced back cautiously, peeking over the hay to the still closed barn doors, checking for Gyro as Johnny began to grope the flushed mound of her cunt. Johnny furrowed her brows, he didn’t like that her eyes were anywhere else but him. He responded to this by tugging her down until she was on her back, making her gasp as he delivered an especially sharp bite to her inner thigh. She yelped, her legs twitching while Johnny gave her a pout in between her legs.

“Look at me,” he muttered, using his thumb to pull her plump labia lips open, making her whimper as he turned his eyes down to her already slick core. He traced two fingers up her wet cunt, eyes narrowing as he gathered her slick “Damn, what made you this wet?” he asked her, rolling the hard button of her clit against his thumb. “Don’t tell me you got this excited while sucking me off,” He teased her, expressing slight vulgarity and making her hide her face in the crook of her arm with a whimper as he continued to toy with the pearl of her clit in gentle circles. He would give an especially hard rub every now and then to get her to buck her hips up into his hand when he wanted to see her squirm. He greedily took in the sight of her as she writhed with his hand pressed against her core.

He leaned down, mouthing her thick lower lips before tracing his tongue over her puffy clit and making her hips jump. Rusty as Johnny was, he remembered what a lady might’ve liked once, giving her clit an especially hard suck as he slipped two fingers into her tight opening. She moaned into her sleeves, her twitching legs nearly closing on Johnny’s head if not for his free arm gripping one down to the floor. Though he knew he should be rushing he took his time opening her up on his fingers to prepare her, not wanting to repeat any past mistakes and being mindful of her lack of experience.

As he scissored her open with his index and middle finger she was so soaked he briefly wondered if she even needed him to prepare her anymore, his two digits becoming drenched in her slick. He curled his fingers, searching for that tender spot at the roof of her walls until he bumped against it. She cried into her elbow, her tight walls pulsing around his digits. He relentlessly attacked that spot, with his index and middle finger working her from the inside while his thumb continued to torture her clit. As long as he got his hands on her, he was happy, and if he had the time he’d torture her until she came on his hand. He pulled off her clit with a wet pop, giving her a few tentative licks as she whined when he stopped altogether. He slipped his fingers from her wet core, rubbing her slick off on his cock. “Sorry,” He apologized, giving her an apologetic kiss above her navel for stopping so suddenly, “But you know it makes it easier.”

She gave a nod as she sat up, her thighs still trembling with the pleasant burn between them. She admired him with blown pupils and a smile on her lips, Johnny lifting himself off of the ground and out from the middle of her legs. “Come here,” Johnny said, dragging himself back against the bale of hay while sitting upright, before gingerly grabbing her wrist and tugging her forward. “I want you over me, like before.” She scooted over on her knees and swung one leg over his waist until she had each thigh on either side of his hips. She surmounted him, feeling his cock bump against her bare pussy as she sat on his lap. Johnny twirled a lock of her hair in between forefingers as she was perched on top of him. He continued to idly stroke her sensitive clit while she reached in between their bodies, gripping the base of his hard length and positioning him up until the head bumped against her wet opening.

She seemed too eager to take him, to care for him like she knew he wanted. She cupped his cheek with her free hand, lifting his head up before taking his lips into a kiss.

He welcomed the feeling with fervor, kissing her in return and scraping his teeth against her bottom lip. She sank down on his shaft with one smooth stroke of her hips, moaning into his mouth. She pulled off of his lips and separated their kiss with a huff, shifting on top him with the building pressure of being so full settling into her stomach. “I’m still not used to this, so tell me if I’m doing something wrong, alright?” She sweetly asked, Johnny giving her a nod before resting his cheek in the palm of her hand. She shifted back onto her haunches, using her thighs to lift her hips up and bring them down onto his lap with a whimper. The crown of his prick penetrated her, the wide head halting her in place as she huffed. Though Johnny had taken his time to make sure she was fairly prepared, even with their time restraints, he obviously had more girth below the belt than his fingers or tongue. He reassured her, fingers drawing gentle circles in her waist as she sank the rest of the way down until her soaking wet cunt swallowed him down from tip to base. She groaned, feeling full and heavy with him nestled deep inside of her.

Johnny knew he’s had sex countless times before, but never this intimate, with love in step. Flings and trysts could never amount to the feeling of someone caring for you in bed, and Johnny realized he had never made love to someone before the girl happily sitting on his lap. Everything she did was in devotion to him, and it made him more eager than before. He sighed as her wet heat swallowed him whole, falling back into the bale of hay while she gripped his shoulders for leverage, using him for stability as she raised her hips only to let them fall back down on his lap. Bouncing down on his cock.

“Does this feel okay?” She whimpered through a moan, rocking her body down as Johnny groaned a low, “Yes.” He only wished she didn’t have to deal with most of the work, if he had half the mobility he had in his prime he would throw her down on the barn floor and show her how badly he wanted her. He could only do with what little he had, such as saddling his hands on her waist and bringing her down to meet his hips. She writhed on top of him, letting him lift her up and down at his own pace. He chose a much rougher pace than hers, but she took it with little protest. She moaned and fell into him, wrapping her arms around his body and hugging him tight into her chest while he used all of his upper body strength to fuck her down onto his cock. Splitting her wide open on his shaft and having her take the shape of him.

A gnawing, tingling feeling began to pool in her lower waist followed by the feeling of being perfectly full, her already hot skin burning even more so now. The occasional sharp gasp and moan fell from Johnny’s parted lips, mouth open as he gasped for air. The heat from the sun and her body burned his skin and overwhelmed him until he felt dizzy, but he kept his eyes trained on her bouncing body, her hips bobbing up and down while she rutted against him. He moaned her name in her ear, earning a breathless cry of his own in turn. “Johnny,” she stuttered, tossing her head back with an especially sharp inhale as the crying tip of his dick bumped against somewhere deep inside of her that made shocks run through her stomach. Johnny relentlessly targeted that spot, knowing he had found her sweetness.

Her nerves were on fire, fried from their previous foreplay, and Johnny did not let up as his thumb found the hard peak of her clit once more and stroked it in circles. She cried into his shoulder, moaning while getting a mouthful of fabric from his shirt. “Damn,” Johnny murmured, “I’m real close.” he whispered against the shell of her ear as she fell into him. Her bare skin practically melted into his clothes as her skin became tacky with sweat. “Me too,” She mewled, beginning to match Johnny’s pace as she began to ride him with further vigor.

Johnny moaned with a sigh of fulfillment, feeding off of her excitement and titillation as he sunk his nails into her sides, leaving small crescent shaped craters in her once smooth skin. He leaned forward and scraped his teeth against the ridge of her collarbone, leaving heavy and wet kisses up and down her chest to her throat. Johnny was typically quiet during their love making, but he found himself chanting her name in small whispers that barely reached her ears.

“Please,” He begged, falling apart in her arms. “Please, almost there. Please.” he babbled and nuzzled his head just above her breast, while he attacked her clit with newfound intensity. Rolling the hard button in circles and making her mouth fall open with a sharp inhale. He felt her squeeze down on his shaft, practically suffocating his cock in her tight heat. “Johnny, if you keep doing that I’m gonna-” She raked her nails down his back, his skin barely protected by the fabric of his hood. Her expression fell into a silent scream while she tossed her head back, arching her chest forward as she trembled with her orgasm. Her climax came swiftly, and he relented his hold on her now sore clit, but Johnny continued to pump her down on his hard length as she rode through her high. She babbled something akin to gratitude, thanking Johnny for making her feel so good, but he could hardly hear her from the blood rushing to his ears. She curled over him, pressing her cheek atop of his head and cradling his cheek, “I love you,” she moaned so tenderly that it made his heart leap into his throat.

It was enough for him to reach that peak and fall right over the edge, giving her a final hard pump and settling her on his hips as he came. He gasped, shoving his face in the crook of her neck while silencing himself with the skin of her throat. He wrapped his arms around her midriff and fully embraced her as he filled her to the brim with himself. His cum flooding her tight channel while they sat on the hayloft floor, a pair of young lovers with their legs tied up in knots. He didn’t think about the consequences of not pulling out, for now he was riding that high and soaking in her warmth until it became unbearable. He was suffocating in heat, evident by his blistering red face and sweat pebbling on his brow, but he didn’t dare move.

Instead he clutched her, closing his eyes and pressing his lips into a fine line as he held her in place, effectively plugging her with his spunk as he remained fully seated inside her. Slowly the dizzying high fell and he was once again grounded, but he held still as she panted on top of him with her head bowed. He only sat in silence as the two of them caught their breath. He rested his cheek against her chest and turned his eyes up at her, admiring her as she basked in the afterglow of their end.

“You feel better now?” she asked in that reposeful voice of hers, Johnny only grunting in response and nodding against her collar. She kissed the top of his head, smiling against his star spangled beanie. He reluctantly pried himself off of her, practically peeling himself off her body. She was a frazzled mess with the look of sex on her skin, he lifted her thigh and raised her up and off of his softening cock, watching as his length fell from her well-used cunt with a slick sound. He shivered, eyes falling on a trail of his cum running from her sore pussy and down her inner thigh. She whimpered at the loss of contact, the soreness quickly settling in between her hips. Riding horseback by tomorrow morning would be hell, but she could care less, evident by the bright smile she wore as she peppered Johnny’s hot face with kisses.

“We should get dressed.” She relented with a sigh, “Well, I should get dressed.” she corrected herself, knowing all Johnny had to do was tuck himself back into his pants while she was left mostly bare save for the shirt clinging to her shoulders. Johnny nodded though absentmindedly, instead favoring to hold her hand and fall in silence. He hummed, with one hand holding hers and the tracing stars and marks on her navel, he expected her to crawl off of him and get right to changing, but he should have known better as she soon leaned down and pursed her lips for another kiss. “One more?” she cooed, and he relented, succumbing to her affection and giving her a chaste peck on the lips.

That was when they heard the telltale sounds of Gyro grousing about outside. He called their names in a sharp tone, “Where are you two?” he called out, followed by his approaching footsteps. They both fell silent, heads turning towards the barn doors in panic as they could hear the jingling of Gyro’s spurs coming closer. “Shit, Gyro’s coming.” Johnny hissed beneath his breath, turning back to her and realizing she would have no time to fix herself and act as if nothing had happened. He should have stuck to just stripping her pants down. She bit her bottom lip anxiously, “Get down, behind the bale.” She whispered hastily, gripping his shoulders and pushing him down with Johnny assisting until he sank down to the point his head was hidden by hay. “You two in here?” Gyro called again, voice raising in pitch.

She snatched her hat off the floor and tossed it back on, trying to put on as many layers as she could but realized it was pointless. Instead she favored to use the bale of hay to their advantage as she fixed her shirt, hastily and sloppily buttoning her blouse up until her cleavage was halfway hidden save for the skin that was exposed by her open collar. With The position of the hay Johnny was mostly hidden behind it, the face of the bale in front of the barn doors. She pressed her two arms down on the bale and covered Johnny’s body with her own, while he tried to sink into the floor but his head was crammed between her bust and the bale. They both fell silent with bated breath just as Gyro pushed open the heavy barn doors with his shoulder.

The tall blonde stood at the open mouth of the loft with a hand on his hip and the other resting on the wood egress, his eyes falling on the stacks of hay and noticing her sitting just behind one. He could barely see her head peeking over it. “The hell are you doing?” he asked, quirking a brow. An inquisitive frown settling on his lips. She offered an especially stiff smile to the italian, “I was changing.” she fibbed through her teeth, he took a step forward and she frantically stopped him, “Hold on, I’m not done!” she exclaimed. “I’m not decent.” She knew if he came closer he might see over the edge of the bale and see just what and who she was sitting on.

Gyro froze, and took two steps back, much to her relief. “Sorry.” he apologized, glancing away from her now that he knew she was indecent. She swallowed the sigh of relief that was bubbling inside of her throat.

He looked around the loft, eyes searching around each wooden post. “Where’s Johnny?” he asked then, “He isn’t outside, Slow Dancer is still tethered to her post, and it’s not like he can just walk off.” Johnny frowned against her stomached at that. “Oh, I don’t know.” She waved her hand, struggling to play it off as she sank down on Johnny to keep him down and hidden. Her hips straddling his stomach while he discreetly reached down and gripped the hem of his pants, lifting his slacks back up and over his waist without making a sound. On the off chance Gyro did come closer he didn’t want to be so exposed with his cum stained cock hanging out. “Maybe he just went out to the field to use the restroom?” she offered, trying to divert Gyro’s attention anywhere but the hayloft. “Could’ve just wandered out while I was sweeping.”

Gyro was silent, brows furrowed and lips pressed in a tight line before he shrugged. “I see.” He said, “I’m sure he’s around here somewhere.” He turned to his side, making relief flood into Johnny’s chest as he could hear his retreating footsteps. “I brought firewood, so when you’re done getting dressed you can help start up the fire.” His spurs jingled with every step he made. “You got it.” She said, and Johnny could practically feel her heart pounding in her chest as Gyro made his leave. He stood in the open doorway, pausing just for a second to turn back and look at her with a smirk on his green lips. “Oh, and Johnny?” he called out, making him become tenser than a wire underneath her. “When you get out from under her make sure to clean up.” Gyro said in a smug tone, “We’re supposed to be sleeping here, after all.” He closed the barn doors behind him and left the two in total mortified silence.

“God dammit.” Johnny groaned against her stomach.

#johnny joestar x reader #johnny x reader #johnny joestar imagine #jjba x reader #jojo x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba #steel ball run #jojo part seven #jojo part 7 #johnny joestar #Peach's writing #Peach's NOT SAFE writing #n/s/f/w

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uwu-shinsou · 4 years

Note

bro ur shinsou imagine was .. *chefs kiss* .. ur writing is REALLY MF GOOD !! :) if you are taking requests u should do a shinsou x reader with a glowy/energy quirk that activates when she gets wound up and he finds her ab to throw hands at someone calling him a villain. If not don't worry about it and have a great day :)

Title: Sweetheart, You’re Glowing

Pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi x Reader

Genre: Fluff, comfort, Shinsou being soft

Word Count: 1900+

Warning(s): Mild language, some rude background characters

A/N: Bro I’m SOFT that’s so sweet :’))) I’m so happy you liked it! And this request is so cute omg my heart🥺❤️ Anyone tryna call bby Shinsou a villain better be ready to catch these HANDS (ง'̀-'́)ง Also I was thinking about this story like right before going to bed and AS I was falling asleep I came up with how to write it and had to get up and write an outline LMAO. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it!!

You made your way through the warm summer night, talking and laughing with friends as you aimed towards the distant sound of loud, fast music. One of the third year classes had decided to throw a party in their building, and it had been so long since you’d let loose that the second you heard about it you had decided to go. Some of your friends and classmates had decided to tag along with you, looking for a fun escape for the night. You walked along with Mina, Kaminari, Sero, Kirishima, Jirou, and Shinsou.

“Y/n, I really like your dress!” Jirou says. You look down at your outfit, smoothing out the fabric.

“Thanks Jirou! Look,” You say, fiddling with the fabric, finding what you’re looking for. “It even has pockets!” Her mouth opens in awe, taking in that indeed, the dress has two pockets.

“You’re right, Jirou,” Mina says, leaning over to cling to your arm, twirling you around in a dizzying circle. “Y/n/n looks suuuper cute, right boys?” She asks innocently. Even with the question being directed to all of them, you see her wiggle her eyebrows at Shinsou.

“Mina,” you hiss through your teeth. Ugh, she literally couldn’t be any more obvious. The truth is, you had started with a tiny crush on the purple haired boy, that only grew larger the more you hung out with him. While you definitely know that the two of you are friends, Shinsou hasn’t really shown any signs that he might like you any more than that. So you’d kept those feelings pushed back, trying your best to not let them possibly spoil your friendship. Although now I see telling Mina might have not been a good idea. At least Jirou knows to keep it to herself.

Or maybe not. Jirou bumps you with her hip as she passes. “Don’t you mean she always looks cute?” You start to feel a little flustered as the boys give nods and smiles at the comments of your friends.

And then you feel really frazzled when you see Shinsou looking at you, his gaze traveling languidly over your body. Finally he says, “You’re right, y/n does always look pretty cute.”

Your breath stumbles, and you feel your cheeks start to heat up. Did Shinsou just call me cute?! “Aww look you guys,” Mina coos. “We made her glow!”

It was true, your skin was producing a pale, radiant glow. This was thanks to your quirk: the stronger of an emotion you felt, the more physically stronger, faster, and agile you became. But this power also manifested with a physical sign. As any emotion built up, your body would begin to glow with light. The stronger the emotion, the more your power grew and the stronger you’d glow.

While your quirk was useful, it was sometimes also the bane of your existence. You scoff, wrapping your arms around your body. “Glowing? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Shinsou hums in thought, the corners of his mouth turning up. “Well this gorgeous lighting must be coming from somewhere.” At his words you let out a small squeak, glowing just the tiniest bit brighter. Shinsou’s smile turns into a full on grin. Oh god, does he even know what he’s doing to me!?

You let out a forced laugh, skipping slightly ahead of your group to the doors of the building. You look back at them over your shoulder. “Well, who’s ready to party?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had been at the party for a grand total of an hour and a half, and you still hadn’t decided whether or not you were having fun. There were a lot of students who came, and the room felt just a bit too small to hold that many people. While you had talked to some new people, seen some familiar faces, in the end your little group mostly stuck together.

Currently you were leaning against a wall with Jirou and Kirishima, part of the group of party-goers watching Mina, Kamimari, Sero, and Shinsou play an intense game of ping-pong.

After another minute of watching the game, the crowd cheering as Sero and Mina’s team score a point, you decide you need to take a walk around.

You push up from the wall, turning to your friends. “Hey I’m gonna go grab a drink, I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Have fun!” Kirishima calls after you as you weave your way through the crowd, unaware of how Shinsou’s eyes stray from the game and trail after you.

You reach the kitchen, filling a cup with punch before turning back to survey the room in front of you. It is really too crowded in here, you think, taking a big drink and fanning yourself with your hand. You take in a deep breath and let out a long sigh. Is it too early to want to leave already? You wonder, drifting slowly back towards your friends.

You stop at the edge of the crowd around the ping-pong table, tuning in to a nearby conversation.

“...people from 1-A?” You hear the tail-end of the person’s question.

“Yeah, the ones who’ve had to deal with all of those villains already,” his friend answers.

“And that other guy he’s from the sports festival, right?” They ask, pointing a finger towards Shinsou.

“Yeah yeah, that’s him,” Their friend answers. “He’s the one with that crazy power that makes people obey him without question. It makes more sense for him to be a villain than a hero if you ask me.” Your vision starts to blur at the hateful words.

The person adds on, “Why does he even bother fighting it? Obviously he’s supposed to be evil when you’re born with a power like that. He should leave so another student can take his place, someone who deserves to be at this school more.”

You involuntarily crush the cup in your hand with a resounding crunch, dropping it to the ground as you face the pair of trash-talkers.

“How dare you talk about him like that,” You seethe stalking up to the offenders. The two turn towards you and their eyes grow wide. Then begin to back away as you continue to advance. “You don’t even know him or what he’s actually like. He’s more of a hero than the two of you combined!” The pair seem to try to shrink into the floor, shielding their eyes as if the room was now too bright. “I think it’s more evil to stand there and shit talk a fellow student. If you’re going to act like that, then why are you even at U.A.?!”

One of them starts to stammer. “W-well, when you think about it, his quirk really is better suited for a villain-”

“Oh yeah? Well I think your face might be better suited to catch these hands if you don’t shut the hell up!” You hiss at them, hands gripped into fists at your side.

You feel a hand land on your shoulder, and you whip around, prepared to have to defend yourself only to recognize who it was that interrupted you.

Shinsou squeezes your shoulder, leaning in close. “Sweetheart you’re glowing,” he says softly in your ear, pulling away as you lift your hands up in front of you. A shining, radiant light leaped off of your skin, becoming even brighter now that you noticed it was happening. You glance around the room, seeing that you’ve become the center of attention.

You pull your hands into your chest, feeling the thrum of power flowing through you at your intense, conflicted emotions. Your breathing quickens and you backup a step, wanting nothing more than to not be here.

Then you feel the weight of Shinsou’s jacket being slung over your shoulders, hiding some of the glow. He wraps his arm around your waist and guides you through the front door, out into the late night and away from all of the gawking people.

For a minute you walk in silence, putting some much needed distance between yourself and the building. It isn’t until the sounds of the party have faded that you slow to a stop, the light of your quirk fading down to a dim glow. Shinsou removes his arm, turning to face you as you stare down at your shoes.

“Sorry for making a scene,” You say quietly, gripping the edges of Shinsou’s jacket still wrapped around your shoulders. “And thanks for pulling me out of there.”

Shinsou stays quiet for a few beats, long enough that you glance up at him. He’s standing still, staring at you. Slowly he lifts a hand up, slightly reaching towards you.

“Shinsou? Are you-” You’re cut off mid-sentence as he almost stumbles forward, wrapping his arms tightly around you, enfolding you against his body. Your face is smooshed against his chest and he brings a hand up to the back of your head, nestling his face in the side of your neck. After a moment you gently wrap your arms around him, hands bunching up in the back of his shirt.

“Y/n/n, I should be thanking you,” he says, voice muffled, holding you a little bit tighter. “I’ve heard people say those things about me all my life, I’m used to it. But people don’t- they don’t stick up for me, not like that. It made me so happy- to see you do that.” He huffs out a laugh, his breath warm against your neck. “I still can’t believe you were about to get into a fight to defend my honor.”

You wiggle a little bit and pull away just enough to be able to look at him, moving your hands to rest against his chest. You give him an embarrassed, bashful smile. “To be fair, you’re the only one who I’d get into a fight for.” He smiles back at you, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. His grip on your hips tightens slightly, and you feel your heart start to speed up, heat blossoming on your cheeks. God I’m so whipped for this boy, you think closing your eyes in bliss at the feeling of being held, warm happiness flooding through your veins.

“Y/n,” He says, your name little more than a breath against your lips. You look at him with a lidded gaze, seeing your bright, gleaming form in the reflection of his eyes. “You look like starlight,” Shinsou whispers, his hand moving up to trace a finger along your jaw. You shudder at his gentle touch, clinging tighter to him. He leans down, his lips almost touching yours. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you breathe, before crashing your mouth against his. One of your hands slides up Shinsou’s chest and behind his head, burying into his hair. His lips move passionately against yours, and you wish that you could live right here in this moment. You only pull away to catch your breath, breathing heavily as you open your eyes to the sight of Shinsou; his hair messy, lips startlingly pink, eyes slightly glazed.

“I like you, Shinsou,” you say, unable to contain the words any longer. “I really, really like you.” Shinsou moves his hands to cradle your face and leans down to kiss you again, this time short and sweet. Then he moves to your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, peppering your whole face with kisses.

You giggle at the littering of kisses, glowing even a shade brighter from the giddiness in your heart. Shinsou stops his kisses, releasing your face and grasping your hands. He brings them up to his face, placing a final, soft kiss on the back of your hand. “And I adore you, Y/n.”

#shinsou hitoshi #shinsou #shinsou imagine #hitoshi shinso x reader #shinsou hitoshi imagine #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou x reader #bnha x reader #bnha imagine #boku no hero #boku no hero academia #boku no hero x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia #mha #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia imagine #my hero academia imagine #wow two fics in one day hehe

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falconfriend · 3 years

Text

AU where some different things are possible. Don't read too much into Jay's techno babble, quite honestly, I might edit some of it out, it's not the point.

Don't be surprised if you see this edited before the final ff.net post, but it's here, and I'm happy with it. The original concept has a chapter in which our two main characters talk together and process, and that is still very, very important to me, I'll probably bring it back.

See tags for warnings.

The amount of power Zane is channeling right now shouldn't be possible. Jay made darn sure to learn everything he could about Zane's possible repairs while Dr. Julien was still alive—the other guys didn't like to think about it back then, but come on, he was old, Jay knew, everyone else knew too even if they weren't saying it— so anyway, he'd spin wild hypotheticals, ask what happens if one tiny piece of machinery goes wrong.

Lloyd would hit the point where he wanders off, self-consciously chuckling that this isn't really his area but he feels like he's kinda learning things, and Jay would watch the clock tick until Nya got bored... and then, that was his opening, to fire off whatever question would come off as too rude while the others were around.

The doctor would smile in a sort of understanding, if slightly flummoxed, way, and he'd start answering. Jay got a lot of answers! He figured out how to put all of Dr. Julien's numbers into his numbers, you know, the kind we learn in the modern century, and made a copy of Zane's schematics with his notes. He had a harder time finding the focus to figure out the Falcon, but Nya and Lloyd are on that anyway. Logical division of labor.

What is he talking about. What was he thinking about. Zane's dying.

Distractedly, he answers- "I said critical mass. If he doesn't contain that, he could go nuclear."

"He's containing it, right?"

"It doesn't- matter." Containing it also means dying.

"Why wouldn't it matter, Jay-"

Jay asked a lot of questions, but he never did even think to ask about Zane's power source. Shouldn't that be the first thing? Why weren't we asking questions about the power source?

He knows approximately how much power Zane runs on. He knows it isn't this much. He knows how a storm feels, right before lightning is about to strike, what builds up in the air and how much damage it can do, right before he—

Jay takes a step forward.

Wu puts an arm across his shoulders, pulling him back. Jay just about slaps him off before realizing that's a quick way to get himself thrown to the ground and shut up before he can start,

So he waits, a frustrating two, three seconds, until he finds words.

"I can help." His throat is dry and he wouldn't mind except that he needs to be louder. "Get me to him, I can help!"

The rest of the ninja are turning to look at Jay… so… slow. Cole looks like he could be swimming through molasses. Jay seethes, and flexes and unfurls his fists by his sides to let it out, and takes a small step back instead of forward.

It works. Sensei releases him, almost.

Kai looks like he might be committing a crime if he lets himself look away from Zane, which isn't helping. Finally, though, he opens his mouth before Jay can. "Your powers? …Do you think?"

"'Do I think-' yes, I think, that's electricity. Or, electromagnetic- whatever. It's energy. I can feel it, Kai- this is taking too long! Where's Pixal- Pixal! Pixal, yoo-hoo, tell them I can help!"

"That won't be necessary," says Wu. Everyone is moving like an old man right now, taking their time; Jay's sure of it. Remember that comment about Cole? It feels like Jay's the only thing who isn't wading through molasses. Jay and the Digital Overlord, that is, and Zane, who cries out so bad Jay spends that moment sure that everything's over and Zane is gone now-

Everyone is moving like the slow old man Sensei talks like, but then Jay sort of- must have blinked, or something, because suddenly, they're all shifted. Cole sets a hand sturdily against his shoulder. It takes him a moment to realize that they're all on his side.

Jay finds a hardened, gold feeling deep in his chest, and latches onto it, and uses it to find his voice. "Okay." Okay. Look. Think. "Cole, I'm going to run at you and I need you to launch me, onto that web. Lloyd, use your energy to boost me."

"But-"

"We don't have time! It's just a scratch."

"Keep him on the edge of the blast. Try to center it about two meters from him." Jay looks back at Nya, Nya looks back at him. It's like they're both realizing how small everything has been. They're nineteen- Jay's nineteen, Nya's eighteen. It's like- like, we didn't need to know the shape of the care right now, I care about you.

Nya waves him away to the task at hand with a smile that means What? Anyway, you're coming back.

Jay looks at Cole and Lloyd. They look back at him. "Well, let's go." With a serious expression, not a word in response and not wasting a second, Cole stoops, palms up and fingers intertwined, a foot-sized platform.

"I'm ready for you, Walker."

He gulps. Time freezes for a second and then skips forward again, like half a second that definitely shouldn't be allowed to be that long. "Okay."

Kai steps forward, like he's going to- hug him, maybe? Rub his back? Push him forward?

"Okay ninja-go—" he kicks off and twists. Off the ground, off Cole's intertwined hands, launching him into the air- about to panic and yell Now, Lloyd when Lloyd finds the right moment anyway, blast re-aiming him just as he's about to fall-

He's sailing through the air, back sore and ears still ringing as the wind whistles past them. Ninjago city sails beneath him. He's two feet short of Zane's hand. He's going to miss.

He's going to miss, he's sorry, and they don't have a second shot, and not that it would be okay if he didn't but now he's going to get all caught in the explosion too,

And Zane reaches back, and grabs his hand.

The jolt that immediately moves through Jay is an absolutely massive electrical discharge. It tries to run from him straight to ground; at first, he was not connected to the circuit, so the electricity is looking for him as its way out. Here's the thing about electricity—it doesn't ask questions. It's already moving by the time your question is halfway out of your mouth, and that's why you need to either be five steps ahead or be ready to start improvising right now or else you're dead.

Something about that isn't how electricity should work, though. It doesn't rush into... a wire that isn't connected to a throughline. Batteries have two ends, positive and negative, and a wire that isn't connected to both of them might as well not be a wire at all— electricity isn't trying to get out, it's trying to get to somewhere, electrons hungry to get to that battery's positive side. Every single electrical invention in the world is formed by humans forcing those electrons to take the long way.

This electricity doesn't have a destination.

The Digital Overlord is always destroying. That means energy in him is leeching outward; this isn't just entropy, this is entropy gone rogue. Jay doesn't know where he's getting the electricity from, but- if he can destroy, maybe he can create. Who knows. Whatever. What becomes apparent right then is that it seems like the Overlord needs to always leech outward, and what Zane is doing is containing him. Sooner or later the snake eats its own tail.

Zane nods, with a firm little hum, as if he can tell from Jay's face what's going on in his head. It's businesslike, and it jolts Jay back to work. Jay can stand this for a few minutes longer, but Zane- Zane's dying.

So: parallel paths. Create two paths, two options, and the electricity will keep looking for how it can be the least crowded. It's like the reason air leaves a popped balloon, kinda like pressure but with a thousand electrons that all hate each other and feel indifferent about you. Or picture... getting into a crowded convention center, and someone coming running to announce they've just opened a second doorway, and that you can get in through either line. Create two paths, and only half of it goes through Zane.

Zane releases his hand.

They really, really need to have a talk later, but Jay is relieved it's not a talk about being willing to be saved. He's helping himself be saved.

Jay holds one of the golden contact points in one hand, and one in the other. The energy rolling around his ligaments and bones deflates, taking the easiest path.

"I had hoped you would do that behind me," says Zane, whose eyes are now closed.

Jay doesn't really try for a little laugh, so much as his body tries for a little laugh, like his brain is fine-tuned into making his excuses with or without him. "You could've said that earlier."

"No, it's alright. Just… here, scoot a little to the side-"

"This is pathetic," hisses a condensed-evil murmur over their shoulder, like it's obligated to, "YOU THINK YOU CAN DEFEAT ME?"

"Yes," says Zane.

And the bluewhite what-is-that-stuff that he'd once used to take down a plain old treehorn beams closer past Jay's cheek than he can really say he's comfortable with. It's almost like being near a fire- a live wire, static. He's not too cold, but he's sure if he touched it, it would move straight through rapid-action frostbite into part of his face falling off.

"Jay, now." Jay isn't sure what he means by now, that uh, isn't very clear, but he spends a half-second in panic before realizing Zane's ice is running a cable to ground. It'll keep a direct hit from coming back for them. It means, since this is the only window before it connects, they need to hit him now.

Jay pulls the electricity out of himself, out of the air- he takes whatever excess Zane will give him, when he touches his hand- and he breaks the circuit. He shoves it, with force, the opposite of the ways electrons want to work, not the way lightning wants to work—but that's the first step of making lightning. You build up a gap. The buildup snaps from him into the Digital Overlord's metal body. Something is wrung out of him like a sponge.

There's a thunderclap that shakes the city and an explosion that's- like a video game character died. Like it's not a real explosion, it's just something- dissipating. The city just turns white.

Jay becomes aware that he's flying again for the first time in two years, and Zane is holding onto him but losing strength. And then it turns out that he's got his arms around Zane, too. He only figures that out when he starts to panic that Zane's going to fall, and the tug of Zane's weight on his arms doubles, and alerts him that they're there, secure. His body was thinking ahead, even if he wasn't.

Zane's out. He's… fine. He's fine. He's got to be fine.

And while we're at it, Jay's hoping he's fine. His heart feels- wrong.

The first thing he needs to do is get back to land, the second thing he needs to do is look at… is get Nya to look at Zane, he's not even sure he can trust his senses. Huh, hang on, there's a sound other than the ringing in his ears.

"Jay!"

That's Pixal.

"Jay!"

She's standing on the roof of Borg Tower, waving her arms, and just as Jay starts to settle enough to realize he's not frozen, adrenaline's not gonna stop him from moving and he should fly somewhere. ...Huh. He has to pick where.

It would be a really good move to let their friends see they're alive. Nya's good at robotics.

Pixal and Borg… can probably fix him faster.

Zane sparks, hard.

Like Superman, made of light, Jay descends toward Borg Tower in a graceful arc. His feet connect with the roof with a very soft patter. He locks eyes with Pixal to hand off their boy to her.

"Whoa, okay, Sparky, geez. Just thought I'd keep the sweat out of your eyes."

Well. That's not correct.

There are the tiles of a hospital ceiling in front of his eyes, which feels more correct. Apparently, Kai is also in the room, because—

"Yeah. He's okay."

—well, because that's Kai.

Cole, of all the things that could happen here, squeezes Jay's hand. It occurs to Jay that he could have died on- on really, really weird terms with him.

Whoof. Jay takes stock of his body. He starts by feeling the sheets, just to figure out where his body is, then investigates the muscles and aches beneath them. He's in one of those medical gowns that closes in the back.

Everything feels... pretty okay? No, everything feels like he's just been stretched in every direction like a piece of toffee.

No, everything feels like he's just been stretched in every direction like a piece of toffee, but also maybe like he is toffee, so he's fine.

He, uh, definitely can't move. And that feels wrong, but at least he's identified the reason he's in a hospital bed, rather than wondering. He'd find this a lot harder to process if he had walked away from it without a scratch at all, even though it would have been cooler. He sort of wonders if anyone would bring his chart over where he can read it.

"Uh, yeah, that's all great, but what about Zane?"

Kai lets out a small, slightly-amused very-concerned snort. "Jay, you asked that already. He's okay."

"Go easy on him."

That's Lloyd. There are, wow, a lot of people in this room. It's gotta be a pretty small room? Hospital rooms aren't that large. Are his parents here?

"They're on their way."

"My mouth keeps saying whatever's in my brain."

Cole laughs. "Hey, don't worry everyone, he's back to normal."

Jay's breath does a weird thing in his lungs. It's like his body is focusing on every sensory detail except where it hurts. "Yeah, you're just jealous of how I looked up there."

Cole could nearly double over laughing at another time, but right now everything about him is subdued, gentle. Jay could see him ruffling his hair if he wasn't, you know. In a hospital bed. "Sure am, sparkplug."

And there's quiet for a beat.

Jay continues, still staring at the ceiling, "Hey, Nya, how bad are you gonna kill me."

"Oh, uh—" That's Lloyd again, kicking one heel awkwardly back against the wall. Kai speaks quickly—

"She wanted to be here. It's killing her not to, I mean— everyone did. Sensei, too. We told them we've got you."

"That's nice."

"I-I said I'd run and call her once you're awake, just to let her know. I should probably go do that now. She's—"

"With Zane," Jay finishes, no bones about it. Kai nods. "That's nice." The way energy thrums from Jay's palms feels different now, like he's not just pulling it from the air, like there's a battery under his skin, but that's. That's a question for training time. It's sleep time, now.

A/N: Why did the writers say "it's reaching critical mass." I still don't know what that means. Zane's power source is presumably based on some kind of nuclear fission then, but I'm not sure what "critical mass" has to do with the Digital Overlord encounter? If anyone knows how that's relevant to how Zane died, please lend me your knowledge, I'd be very grateful and schooled.

Anyway, critically, this is an AU where it is possible for Jay to help, not an AU where Jay notices he can help. It's built on the assertion that there was nothing Jay could do in the original, but in this universe, different things were possible.

#ninjago #jay walker #zane julien #jay ninjago #zane ninjago #warnings:#hospitals #there's some narration of Jay's thoughts not making linear sense which might be disorienting to some readers

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doyouevenshipbr0 · 4 years

Text

gruvia drabble

author’s note: well. i said it. and here it is!!! this is based off the most recent gruvia matching covers of fairy tail 100 years quest!!!:) i felt super inclined to write this bc 1. those covers are BEAUTIFUL and 2. well... last time gruvia was at a ball it.......didnt go so well!!! (end of the gmg arc......iykyk😔) SO!! i hope i did these covers justice!:) enjoys bbies!!!!! and im tagging @sobatsu bc i was instructed to lol!!:) i hope u enjoy, love!!!:)

“Wow.” Lucy lulled, taking in the grand surroundings. “I forgot just how nice this palace was.”

“Yeah, it’s been a little while since we’ve been here, huh?” Natsu finally looked up from his plate as he said with a mouth full of food.

“Natsu, manners!” Erza scolded. “Queen Hisui was kind enough to invite us here for her birthday ball. Don’t embarrass Fairy Tail.”

Juvia, however, was not taking a large part in the conversation. She was more focused on a certain someone, and how she had yet to even talk to this certain someone throughout the whole night.

Once she heard that Fairy Tail would be attending Queen Hisui’s birthday ball, she was estatic. Rather than dwelling on the fact that last time she was in that very ballroom Gray essentially rejected her, she decided to look at the glass as half full. She would reinvent herself this night. She would wear a dress even more dazzling than before, she would act so elegantly even if it killed her, and she would do everything in her power to make Gray eat the words he said at the last royal ball. Juvia would show Gray that she was an even newer version of herself, and she was a woman more than deserving of his love.

However, the fact that he seemed to be avoiding her the entire night was certainly putting a damper on Juvia’s plans. She didn’t want to overcrowd him like she seemed to last time, but patiently waiting for him to approach her was killing her. She wanted to gush over the fact that he looked so handsome in his fancy suit and sweep him off his feet onto the dance floor, but unlike her usual, she was trying to keep her cool. Unfortunately, “keeping her cool” was turning into a burning irritation. She kept her eyes glued onto Gray as she mingled with Jellal across the ballroom. They were chatting and laughing with drinks in their hand, and Juvia wanted to be by his side as he did so. Instead, she watched, and subconsciously poked at her food with her fork as her other hand tapped anxiously on the table.

Naturally, Erza was the first person to notice her agitation. “Juvia? Is everything alright?” She asked.

“Eh?” Juvia finally snapped out of her daze. She stopped her fidgeting and turned towards Erza. “Juvia’s fine.” She forced a laugh.

“Is that so?” Erza raised a brow. “That must be why you’ve been staring off and playing with your food for 30 minutes without taking a single bite.”

“Urgh!” Juvia finally dropped her fork. “Why hasn’t Gray-sama talked to Juvia tonight?! At all!” She spat out.

Erza gave a low chuckle. “I could’ve guessed that’s what this was about.”

“Why don’t you just go up and talk to him, Juvia?” Lucy chimed in.

“Because,” Juvia groaned. “At the last ball, Juvia was a bit—well— abrassive, and it totally turned Gray-sama off.” She sighed. “Juvia just doesn’t want to make the same mistake twice.”

“You know, the last ball was a long time ago. A lot has changed from then. Not only you and Gray as individuals, but as a couple as well.” Erza casually explained, tucking a loose hair that fell from her bun behind her ear.

“A c-c-couple?!” Juvia’s face turned red. Sure, she and Gray had gone through a lot together since then, but their relationship was anything but definite. They were in this awkward “more than friends” stage that Juvia just couldn’t seem to fight her way out of.

“Erza’s right!” Lucy said, optimistically. “Gray cares a lot about you, so I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you went up and talked to him or asked him to dance.”

Juvia sighed, somewhat defeated. “Juvia supposes you two are right, but I really don’t want to mess anything up tonight.” She began lightly messing with her food again.

“You should do whatever you feel is right, Juvia.” Erza gave her a reassuring smile.

Juvia finally smiled back. “Thank you Erza-san, and Lucy-san, but Juvia is sure. She will lay low tonight. Whatever happens, happens.” As much as it killed her, this is what she decided to do, and deep down she would hope Gray would eventually approach her.

“Hey, Juvia,” Natsu interjected. “While you lay low, are you gonna’ eat that?” He clearly had eyes for her plate.

“Natsu!” Lucy exclaimed.

Juvia hummed a giggle. “It’s alright. You can have it, Natsu-san.”

After all, she was far too anxious to stomach anything right then.

While Gray was paying attention to Jellal and their conversation, he couldn’t help that little thing that was itching away at his mind. Finally, he glanced over her way across the room to see she was talking with Erza and Lucy.

His index finger tapped at the glass in his hand, unknowingly to him. He quickly shook his gaze and turned back to Jellal.

“So it’s safe to assume you’re fitting right in at Fairy Tail? You’re a new member and you’re already going to all our parties.” He said to his old friend, but new guild mate.

Jellal nodded. “Well, there’s never a dull moment, that’s for sure.” He chuckled. “I would hate to miss out.”

Gray playfully raised his eyebrow. “Is there a particular reason you’re inclined to be so involved? Maybe, I dunno’, because of a certain red-head, by chance?” He teased.

Jellal’s eyes went wide. “W-what?! Erza?! I—erm— not necessarily! Why do you say that?!”

Gray couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re as cool as a cucumber all the time, but as soon as Erza comes up in conversation, you start buggin’ out.”

“I guess I can’t help it.” Jellal sighed contently and looked over to her table. “She has that effect on me.” He grinned.

Gray admired Jellal’s realness with himself. It was a trait that Gray seemed to lack sometimes, especially when it came to the feelings department. That got him back to thinking about that thing that was poking at him all night. Or rather, that thing that wasn’t poking at him. Wasn’t bothering him, wasn’t clinging to his side, wasn’t flashing that engulfing sweet grin, wasn’t talking his ear off all night.

“H-hey,” Gray finally let his anxiety fall off his lips. “Does Juvia seem...” He realized he was failing on putting the right words together. “I dunno’,” He exhaled. “Weird... to you? At all?” He finished, agonizingly.

Jella furrowed his brows. “Weird as in...?” He wasn’t sure just what Gray was getting at.

He groaned. “I don’t know, like she’s acting kind of... differently tonight, right?”

“She looks perfectly fine to me.” By the tone in Jellal’s voice, it was clear he was trying to pull something from Gray.

“Y-yeah.” Gray swallowed his thoughts.

“Or could you be getting at the fact that she hasn’t been following you around at all tonight?” Jellal pried.

“I mean, yeah! It’s not like her to— well— leave me alone.” Gray snorted. Here he was, finally getting a second to breathe from her, and he was complaining about it.

“Does it bother you that she’s not bothering you?”

“No!” Gray immediately answered, but once he saw the look he was getting from Jellal, he knew there was no fooling him. “Ok, maybe.” He turned away.

“It’s just strange to see her not being herself.” He looked at the drink in his hand and swirled it around. “So, yes, in a weird way, it does bother me that she’s not glued to my side.”

“Well, Gray, it kind of seems like you’ve answered your own question, my friend. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go ask a beautiful girl to dance.” Jellal flashed one last smug smirk at Gray, almost as if it were a nudge, and walked strutted his way across the floor. He watched as Jellal executed his plan with that very red-head that knew just how to ruffle his feathers. Shortly following, Lucy and Natsu excitedly arose from their seats and entered the dance floor as well.

Gray knew what he had to do.

He downed the drink that sat in his hand, slammed it on the table beside him, took a deep breath, and headed towards her.

For the first time all night, Juvia wasn’t looking at Gray. She had her chin resting in the palms of her hands as her elbows leaned on the table. She looked longingly onto all the couples that were dancing the night away. It was hopeless. She had been defeated for a second time.

Flower petals fell from what was seemingly the sky, as the guards released them in bushels, setting the perfect mood for the couples romantically dancing.

“O-oi!” Juvia knew that voice all too well. She snapped her gaze at that direction.

“Gray-sama?” She nearly gasped. This was the first time she’d been so close to him all night.

“Juvia.” Gray took a deep breath. “Do you...” He held out one hand as his other instinctively scratched at the back of his head, as he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. He felt the blush burn his cheeks, so he couldn’t help but look away in the moment. “Do you want to dance with me?”

Juvia’s first reaction was her eyes widening, not believing what they were seeing. Her lips parted as she finally took in a breath after what felt like an eternity with no air.

“Yes. Juvia would love to.”

Gray finally looked back at her. and the world around him completely faded away. All he saw was her. Juvia’s long waves draped her frame perfectly, as parts in the front fell and curved onto the seams of her dress. She looked at him with a hooded gaze, one that stared into his entire being, and he was mad that he orginally didn’t have the courage to look into her deep blue trance. Pink frosted her porcelain skin perfectly, and it just so happened to match the soft petals that fell onto her so perfectly, grazing her hands that were crossed on top of each other, tightly held at the center of her chest. She was truly all he could see in that moment, and he didn’t care. All he ever wanted to see, was her. It was a sight he could look at for eternity.

Finally, the nerves seemed to dull. He gracefully took her hand, and led Juvia onto the ballroom floor. She was first to wrap her arms around his neck, and Gray matched her, a bit awkwardly at first, by placing his hands onto her back.

“Juvia thought you would never ask her to dance.” She half groaned and half chuckled.

“Yeah, well, you could’ve asked me yourself, y’know.” They continued to sway back and forth, stepping with ease.

“And risk rejection?! For the second royal ball in a row?! Juvia’s heart couldn’t take it.” She dramatically explained.

“Well it’s not like you to stand on the sidelines.” Gray scoffed.

“But it paid off didn’t it?” She hummed a giggle. “Gray-sama asked Juvia to dance.” She sang

“Yeah, but I didn’t like seeing you be all—well— not yourself.” He muttered and embarrassingly turned his head to the side.

“Eh?” Juvia pushed her face towards Gray. “Gray-sama doesn’t mind Juvia’s mannerisms?” She boasted

“Urgh, well, I like you, okay?! And part of what makes you you is how you’re so loud, and giddy, and forward, and in my face about everything.” He finally looked back towards her. “So don’t go changing anything about yourself, alright? I like you just the way you are.”

For the first time ever, Juvia was at a loss for words. Without giving a verbal reply, she removed her arms from Gray’s neck, and wrapped them around his torso while she prompty pressed her cheek against his chest.

“If Gray-sama insists.” She hummed, snuggling up.

For a moment, Gray didn’t know how to react. Before he could think of a response, he was overwhelmed with a sense of familiarity. This feeling, this sensation of Juvia being so close to him was exactly right. He loved feeling this closeness with her, not only physically, but emotionally as well. Even though he wouldn’t admit if half the time, he longed for moments like this. Her embrace brought him a sense of home like no other could. He calmly wrapped his arms around her, and brought her in even tighter than before.

Finally, while in each other’s arms, just as they knew they should be, Gray and Juvia danced into the night.

#gruvia #fairy tail #doyouevenshipbr0 #gray x juvia #juvia x gray #gruvia fanfic #fairy tail 100 yq #gruvia fanfiction #fairy tail 100 years quest #gruvia drabble #ft 100 yq #juvia #juvia lockser

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bisou-doux · 3 years

Text

The Starving Games ft. Freddie Weasel: AKA Pt. 1 of my Hunger Games x Harry Potter crossover series (OC x Fred Weasley)

Warnings (None of these are really graphic, but feel free not to read if any of these things make you uncomfortable!!): Blood, knives, knife wound, character death(s), severe injury mention (lost limbs), dead animal mention?? (a rat)

This is the first fic I’ve ever written! I got the idea from a post I saw from @wand3ringr0s3 Comments and criticism are GREATLY appreciated and it’d be really cool to get some feedback on my writing style!!

a/n: Also if I do write more, this is gonna be an enemies to allies to lovers situation bc I <3 angst

Tagging my mutuals: @ourloveisforthelovely @darthwheezely @amrtxntia @anchoeritic @kellsslut @whizboingies @beiahadid

Darkness. Pure black. I hear noises coming from somewhere. Muffled. Echoing through the endless void around me. The noises become louder. Someone is talking. The more I listen, the louder and clearer they get. Clear enough that I can almost make out the words. Suddenly, everything goes deafeningly quiet. My ears start ringing. But then, a single voice echoes through the silence, “Seph?”. I recognize it immediately. “Maeve?” I call out. “Seph? Is that you?” she responds, her voice shaky with fear. “Yes, yes, Maeve, it’s me. Where are you?”

“I don’t know.” she responds, panic rising in her voice. “Seph, I’m scared.”

“I know. I know, kiddo,” I swallow hard, “Hey. Hey, listen, I’m gonna find you, okay? Just stay calm.”

My heart is racing. I look around for some sort of clue, but nothing but complete darkness surrounds me. I tentatively reach my hand out in front of me. My fingertips graze something. Something cold. I take a step forward and reach out again. My hand finds what feels like a thin chain. I roll it around in my fingers before pulling down on it. The space is immediately flooded with blinding white light. I blink a few times to adjust my eyes to the sudden brightness. I’m at home; a tiny one room flat that I share with my mother, sister, and our cat. Except it’s empty- no furniture, not even a door. I see my sister standing a few feet in front of me, her hands bound together by a thick rope. “Maeve!” I rush towards her. “Seph!” she cries. As I reach out to hug her I’m pushed back by an invisible force. I look up and there she is- standing inside a giant glass dome. I take a few steps back, trying to register what I’m seeing.

“Shall we draw the names?” I whip my head around to see a woman in a magenta frock standing on the other side of the room. Her dress is covered in so many frills and flounces that she takes up half the flat. On her head is a ridiculous blonde wig that must add at least two feet to her height. Her face is covered entirely in white powder, with her cheeks overly rouged, and her top lip painted magenta to match the dress. She looks like a very posh clown.

“I-I’m sorry what?”

She laughs airily, “The names, darling. Surely you remembered?”

“Remember what?”

She tsked then pulled out two smaller versions of the glass dome from the frills at the front of her dress. They each had a small slip of paper in them. “Go on. Pick one.” Her voice was incredibly high-pitched, and she spoke with a capitol accent. I stepped towards her and hesitantly reached into the bowl in her right hand. I unfolded the slip of paper, ‘Maeve Whitlock’. I stared at the name in confusion.

“I don’t understand.”

“Will you take her fate as your own?”

“What do you mean? What fate?”

The woman let out another laugh, this one high and cold, it echoed around the entire room and caused the floor to shake. Suddenly, I heard Maeve call out to me, “SEPH!” I looked back to where she was in the dome. There was a dark, shadowy figure standing behind her, holding a knife to her neck. Her hands and feet were bound to a small wooden chair, and her mouth was now gagged with a dishcloth. I ran towards the dome, panic rising further in my chest. “MAEVE!” I shouted desperately. She looked at me fearfully, tears rolling slowly down her cheeks. I banged and kicked and rammed my body at the glass so hard, I should’ve shattered something. But it was no use. I looked back to where the woman had been standing, but she was gone. The shadowy figure stood still, holding the knife to my sister’s neck.

“LET GO OF HER YOU FREAK!” I cried, banging my fists against the dome. Maeve was panicking now, her chest rising and falling rapidly, tears running down her face, her muffled pleas penetrating through the glass. “MAEVE.” I cried out; my voice cracked as the salty tears streamed down my cheeks. But I was too late. The dark figure suddenly slashed the knife across her throat, her cries stopped and she slumped down into her seat, eyes still half open, blood now seeping into her blouse. “NO!” I screamed, sinking down to the ground. The glass squeaked as my hands dragged down over the exterior. I looked back up towards the shadowy figure, only to see it was no longer there. In its place I saw myself, a satisfied smile on my face. I heard the clownish woman’s disembodied laugh echo through the flat, “What a pity,” the voice said, “you could’ve saved her! But now, I’m afraid, you must face the consequences of your actions.” The clone slowly raised the hand still holding the knife, and pointed directly at me. Suddenly, I felt the cool touch of metal against my throat. The other me winked, and I felt the blade drag deep across my neck. I started to choke, the blood pooling into my airways. I instinctively brought my hand up to the wound. My vision started turning black around the edges. I looked down to see the front of my dress already soaked in red. The last thing I saw was my own hand, holding the knife, droplets of blood falling steadily from the tip of the blade. Then, everything went dark.

My eyes shot open. All I saw was fur, and something was blocking my breathing. I sat up quickly, and the ball of fluff leapt off my face. The cat looked up at me from his new place on my lap- those big amber eyes practically staring into my soul- and meowed loudly. I sighed in annoyance. “Stupid cat.” I grumbled as I lifted him up and let him jump to the floor. I rubbed my eyes and tried to slow my racing heartbeat. My body was covered in a sheen of cold sweat. I looked down at the bed to see my sister still sleeping soundly beside me. I took a deep, shaky breath and stroked the top of her head, moving away some of the stray hairs lying across her face. I glanced over at the digital clock next to me, SUNDAY: JULY 4. 8:26 AM. Today was Reaping Day; no wonder I had that horrible nightmare. This would be my 4th year participating in the drawing, it was Maeve’s first. How unlucky it was that her twelfth birthday had only been three days prior. If she’d just been born a few days later, she could’ve been spared for another year.

I sighed and swung my legs over the side of the bed. My mother was already awake, sewing some buttons back onto Maeve’s school shirt. “Hi, mom.”

“Hi, sweetie. Did you just wake up?”

“Yeah, just now.” I yawned.

“Is Maeve still asleep?”

“Yeah.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost 8:30. Should I wake her up?”

“No, it’s okay,” she sighed, “let her sleep some more. I’ll wake her up soon.” She held up the shirt to examine her work, “Still needs a few more stitches…” She held the needle between her teeth and reached down to her sewing basket to grab another spool of thread. I looked down as I felt the cat’s bushy tail brush past my ankles. I knelt down and scratched behind his ears.

“Did you feed Tulip yet?” I asked. The fluffy, tricolor, flat-faced cat was now sitting at my feet, purring contentedly.

“Didn’t have to; he caught his own breakfast. A huge rat, which he so lovingly dropped on my pillow this morning.” My mother replied.

I stifled a laugh.

“Since you’re already up, go ahead and shower. I’ve laid out your clothes for you on the kitchen table, so when you’re done, just change into them and come back here so I can do your hair. Okay?”

“Okay.”

She smiled at me then went back to her work. I grabbed some soap and a clean towel from the small shelf near the entrance and walked out. “Make sure you don’t use up all the hot water!” she called out as I closed the door behind me. “Don’t worry, I won’t!”.

We didn’t have our own bathroom- there was one toilet and one shower per floor, which could be shared by anywhere from 5 to 20 people. There were 5 apartments on each of the 4 floors- all one room- with one bed, a stove, a sink, a small table and chairs, and some shelves for storage. Each apartment had a heater and air conditioner, but they were never guaranteed to work when you needed them. Sometimes only one side of the building would have heating, or only certain floors had AC, or only specific apartments. Often, the whole building wouldn’t have either for days at a time. The same thing happened with the water and electricity. You could never fully rely on any of the appliances being in working order. As a result, we shared a lot with other apartments. If someone’s stove wasn’t working, they could just knock on a neighbor’s door and use theirs. If only one apartment on our floor had heating during the winter, there were no objections when everyone else would come over and make themselves at home. It made it feel like we were all one family, and it was customary to refer to many of your neighbors as your aunt or uncle. This was common throughout the District, as almost everyone aside from the mayor and peacekeepers lived in small, rundown tenements, expanding outwards from the city center, which was home to the Justice building. Here, in District 8, we produce textiles. There are 6 factories in total; one of which is entirely dedicated to making peacekeeper uniforms. We typically start in the factories at 14, splitting the day between school and work. We aren’t assigned specific jobs until we turn 18. Until then, those in charge of production make requests for certain numbers of workers, and we go wherever we’re needed. Once we finish school, we’re assigned permanent job positions based on both our aptitude tests and our performances in various factory tasks. The better you do on the aptitude test, the better (or at least safer) your job will be. Those with the highest scores tend to be assigned as desk jockeys- where the risk of dying on the job is fairly low. Those with the lowest scores are sent to work in the most dangerous parts of the factories; you can always tell who works there because chances are, they’ve lost some part of their limbs...or face...or they’re, you know, missing a hand...Then there’s those whose scores fall somewhere in the middle; if they have a specific skill, like baking, or perhaps healing, they’re assigned a job based on that. The rest are assigned mid-level factory jobs, which were still dangerous, but the chances of getting to keep all your fingers were significantly higher! (But not guaranteed).

When I turned on the shower, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the water was delightfully warm. It took everything in me not to keep standing there, enjoying the warmth, until the water would turn cold. I shivered as I stepped out of the shower and quickly wrapped my towel around me. I walked swiftly down the hall and flung open the door to the apartment. I grabbed my outfit from the kitchen table. A white trapeze-line dress ending an inch or so above my knees, long billowy sleeves pulled tight at the wrists, and a mock turtleneck with tiny ruffles adorning the edge. My shoes sat on the floor next to it; dark blue suede ankle-boots with small square heels.They were a birthday present from my mother; most definitely from the black market. I got dressed and pulled up a stool in front of my mother’s chair. She combed through my curls as gently as she could, but I still winced when she pulled too hard at a knot. She braided four small plaits at the front and sides of my hair, pulling them into two larger braids that she twisted together and pinned to the back of my head. She handed me the mirror. I looked into it and smiled, “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” I turned around and hugged her tightly. She smelled of soap and clean linen, and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on- all I knew was that it was comforting and warm. I held on a little longer than usual. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling her scent. She brought her hand up and gently stroked the back of my head. We both knew what could happen today...I tried my best not to think about it. Maeve soon came back from the shower and changed into a mod-style purple dress and black mary janes. My mother braided her hair in a similar style to mine, adding a small flower clip at the side. She looked us once over, nodded, then stood at the mirror and added a few pins to secure her own hairstyle. She sighed, “Ready?”

“Yeah.” “Yeah.” my sister and I said in unison.

My mother chuckled lightly as we stepped through the threshold.

We walked the few blocks over to the underground and boarded the train headed to the Justice building. The train car was packed. Everyone was dressed in their best (and most colorful) outfit. These types of clothes were only worn on special occasions; those above working age wore grey coveralls to work and school, and something drab and ill-fitting otherwise. As we exited the train car, I kept a tight grip on Maeve’s hand. As we emerged from the underground, our eyes were bombarded with light, and I squinted as the brightness flooded my vision. When my eyes adjusted, I spotted the registration table. I gave my mother a brief hug and went to join the girls’ line with Maeve. Soon, we’d reached the front. I looked down at Maeve, “You want me to go first, kiddo?”

She glanced up at me with wide eyes, then stared forward and shook her head.

“You sure?”

“Mhmm. I just wanna get it over with.”

“Okay.” I hunched over and whispered into her ear, “You’re gonna be fine, I promise. It’s not as bad as you think. I’ll see you in a few minutes, yeah?”

She nodded. I gave her hand a squeeze and watched her walk up to the table. I heard them speaking faintly and a few minutes later, she turned around to look at me, a nervous expression on her face. I gave her a reassuring nod then headed over there myself.

The woman at the table sat there with a bored expression. She looked to be in her 30’s, but the heavy dark circles under her eyes seemed to age her quite a few years.

“Last name?” She said. She didn’t bother to look up at me.

“Whitlock.”

“Whitlock…” she muttered, flipping through the pages, “Right, Whitlock. Persephone?”

“Yeah.”

She crossed my name off the list. “You’re sixteen?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” she sighed, “Hold out your hand, please.” She took a small device next to her and clipped it onto my index finger. I winced when I felt the needle prick my skin. She unclipped the device then stamped my wrist with the capitol’s sigil.

“You can go join your age group, fourth line from the left.”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

She paused, then looked up at me sympathetically, “And um, good luck.”

I nodded and gave her a curt smile before heading over to join my peers. We were arranged by age and gender, boys and girls separate, all standing in rows in front of the stage. I stood waiting, and mindlessly watched the rows slowly multiply. I didn’t know how much time had passed, but soon enough, I looked up at the stage to see a woman in a bright magenta pantsuit. The hem of her skirt was decorated with a flounce of fabric, and she wore a light pink blouse underneath her suit jacket. The front of it contained so many ruffles, you could hardly see her neck. Her hair was pale blonde, and styled in a way that made it look like a cloud sitting on top of her head. Her face was powdered white, save for her blushed cheeks and glossy lipstick. Her lips were absurdly over lined, both painted a shocking fuchsia that closely matched her outfit. She approached the podium with tiny steps and cleared her throat daintily, ��Welcome, everyone, to the reaping ceremony for the 59th annual Hunger Games!” People remained silent; the only reaction being a cough from someone in the crowd. She cleared her throat once more, “As always, we shall begin by watching a special film from the capitol, telling us the history and origins of this unique tradition, and to remind us why we are all standing here today.”

At her words, the two televisions turned on to display the Capitol’s sigil. It faded out, and a film about the glorious history of Panem started rolling. I tuned out and stared blankly at the rows of people ahead of me. When the film concluded, Ms. magenta up at the podium clapped enthusiastically. She was the only one. “Oh, wasn’t that wonderful?” She exclaimed, “What a rich history this nation has.”

I scoffed, that’s one way to put it, I thought.

“Now, as always- ladies first.” She stuck her hand into the large glass bowl on the right side of the podium and shuffled her hand through the slips of paper before snatching one up. She gingerly unfolded the paper and held it delicately between her index finger and thumb.

She cleared her throat and read out the name, “Maeve Whitlock.”

I felt my heart stop in my chest.

No.

My eyes darted through the crowd and I saw people make way for her as she slowly walked to the stage, shaking with every step. Images from my dream flashed through my mind- most poignantly, the image of me watching helplessly, as a dark shadowy figure slashed a knife across my sister’s throat. Panic rose in my chest; my heart beat so loudly in my ears that I barely heard myself shout, “WAIT!” Everyone turned to look at me. My breathing sped up as I suddenly felt at a loss for air, “I volunteer.” I added, my voice cracking slightly, “I volunteer as tribute.” Maeve looked back at me with pleading eyes and shook her head furiously. I avoided her gaze and stared straight ahead as the crowd parted to allow me through to the stage. I paused to grab Maeve’s hand and squeeze it tightly. I cradled the back of her head and planted a kiss atop her forehead. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment as I shakily released her from my grasp and allowed the other girls in the crowd to place a comforting hand on her shoulders as they quietly pulled her away from me. I walked up to the stage and slowly climbed the short flight of steps to then take my place just behind the glass bowl from which my sister’s name was drawn. I can’t believe I’m about to be shepherded to my untimely death because of a stupid glass bowl. I felt my hands getting clammy, and I held to the hem of my dress to keep them from shaking. Ms. Magenta smiled and stepped towards me, “And what is your name, dear?”

“Persephone Whitlock.” I stated.

“And you are…?”

“Her sister.”

“Her sister! Oh, well, of course you are!” she remarked, “Well, that was a very brave thing you just did, Persephone. I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say that this was a truly inspiring moment! Well done! And may the odds be ever in your favor.” she smiled brightly and turned towards the crowd. There were a few measly claps, but they quickly fell silent. “And now, let us draw our male tribute.” She stepped over to the glass bowl on her left and repeated the process. I stared blankly past the rows of people; only when she read the name was my trance broken, “Frederick Weasley.” A tall, redheaded boy emerged from the crowd. I stared as he made his way up to the podium. I recognized him from school. I didn’t know him well, but I knew he had a twin brother- George, I think- who’d lost an ear in a factory accident a few years prior, and was thus ineligible to compete in the Games, as his injury would be an unfair advantage to the other tributes. Apparently, he’d been checking the cogs underneath a broken machine when it somehow turned on and cut his left ear clean off. It was formally reported as an accident, but it’s been rumored that he did it on purpose. There were no witnesses, so no one can say for sure, but if it was intentional, I can’t say I blame him for doing it. There are very few ways you can get out of the games if you’re under 18- something as extreme as losing an ear would certainly fall under that category. I stared at the redhead as he took his place behind the other glass bowl. He was tall, at least 6 foot 4, and seemed to tower over my own 5 foot 10 frame. I’d always thought I was fairly tall for my age, and was used to surpassing most adults in height; but standing next to him, I felt like a child. His entire body was long and lean, but I could tell from the way his shirt clung to him that he was not just skin and bone. He had a well-structured face. Round brown eyes, thin lips, a prominent, romanesque nose; his jaw was clenched as he stared straight ahead and refused to look at me. Him and his brother were known for pulling pranks and cracking jokes at school- there was a strange, impish quality to his features that unintentionally revealed his penchant for mischief. Every inch of his cool, pale skin was covered in freckles. Despite his pallid complexion, his cheeks always seemed to have a slight blush to them that made everything about him appear bright and lively. However, at the present moment, his face had been drained of all colour, save for a rather sickly green tinge. No wonder he doesn’t want to look at me- poor kid looks like he’s about to puke. Ms. Magenta finally stepped forward, “Excellent! We now have our two lovely tributes! Both of whom will now be escorted into the Justice building to await further instructions; Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!” And with that, the Capitol’s sigil was once again displayed on the TVs, and its anthem blasted through the speakers. Suddenly, I felt four hands grab me by the arms and forcefully pull me backwards. I stumbled slightly, and looked up to see the two peacekeepers responsible. They continued to pull me across the stage before practically shoving me down the stairs and onto the cobblestone street. From the corner of my eye, I could see that my fellow tribute was receiving the same gentle treatment as they dragged- I’m sorry, escorted him- to the large, looming structure behind us. As they “escorted” me towards the building’s heavy brass doors, I looked back frantically, trying to spot my mother and sister. But the crowd had gotten rowdier, and they were all being jammed together as the peacekeepers continued to push them away from the stage. My breathing quickened, and I could feel the blood pumping through every vein in my body. When we reached the threshold, the brass doors opened to reveal a high-ceilinged marble hall, and a rush of cool air escaped them. So THIS is where all our air-conditioning goes, I thought to myself. Every sound echoed through the building’s marble interior. I craned my neck upwards and tried to take in every opulent detail as I was dragged down a hallway and shoved into a small room, where the peacekeepers finally released me from their vice grip. “Wait here,” one of them said. They both left and shut the door behind them. I massaged my sore upper arms. “You didn’t have to pull me so hard, you know!” I shouted at the door, “not like I was planning on going anywhere!”. I sighed and stepped back from the door. “Assholes,” I muttered to myself. I plopped down onto a green velvet armchair and examined my surroundings. The walls and ceilings were paneled in rich, mahogany wood. The square panels above me were covered in intricate carvings, complementing the elaborate crystal chandelier hanging in the center. While I assumed the floor was wood, it was hard to tell because of the heavy oriental rugs that adorned its surface. There were two large windows behind me, both framed by plush velvet curtains. They were the same emerald green as the chair, and were tied back with a thick, gold rope that had tassels on the end of it, so as to allow in natural light. There was not much furniture in the room aside from two armchairs- one of which I already occupied- a round, wooden coffee table between them, and two empty bookshelves inlaid in the wall on either side of the room. A thin blue vase containing a single white rose sat in the center of the coffee table. The smell of it was unnaturally overpowering. Something about it made me uneasy, so I carefully pushed it to the far side of the table and shifted away from it. I unconsciously started chewing on my lip. I couldn’t sit still. Sitting there shaking my leg, or playing with the hem of my dress, wasn’t helping. I let out a frustrated groan and jolted up from my seat. I continued to chew my lip as I restlessly paced back and forth across the room. The heavy rugs didn’t hide the creaking of the floorboards as I stomped across them. After what felt like hours, I heard the door creak open. I stopped in my tracks and ran to the door to greet my mother before she’d even entered the room. Her and my sister enveloped me in a bone-crushing hug which I eagerly returned. The peacekeeper standing behind them cleared his throat. We slowly let go of each other and turned to face him. “You have ten minutes to say goodbye- not a second more.” he said in a gruff voice. As my mother and sister stepped fully into the room, the peacekeeper roughly shut the door behind them and left.

END OF PART ONE

a/n: If you’ve made it this far, 1. Hi, I love you 2. Will I write more for this series? To quote John Mulaney, “Who’s to say?”.

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aspenflower17 · 3 years

Text

Finding You (Part Seven of ??)

Hello again everyone! Hopefully you’re all having a good day! Before we get started today, I wanted to mention that I think Tumblr is messing with my tags. If you guys on my tag list can tell me down below if you got the notification about Part 6 last week, I would greatly appreciate it :)

That taken care of, let’s continue. This update is shorter than normal, but I’m planning on having another shorter update out sometime this next week, as well as my normal sized update. As always, the link for Part 1 is below, and Part 6 for anyone who missed it.

Part One Part Six

Tags (that better work!): @simpingforsatan @naimena @wrathandgreed @magi-minminxiii @rensphilia

Satan/F!Mc

Word Count: 1,413

Trigger warnings: yelling

“I think we need to discuss your behavior yesterday,” Lucifer announced, breaking the uneasy silence that had dominated breakfast. Every eye turned to Satan.

Satan said nothing in response, continuing to pick at his food in silence. The fourth born was in a foul mood and no one had said anything to him all morning. Mammon had also been uncharacteristically silent and Lucifer had seemed… careful. Up until now however.

“I cannot simply stand idly by without addressing what happened last night.”

Satan continued to ignore the eldest, though his stabbing got more violent, and the area surrounding him was getting darker.

“Ummm, Lucifer, I don’t think-” Beel began, but Lucifer interrupted him.

“There are a long list of demons who want you banned from that gallery space permanently for the stunt you pulled yesterday,” and then turning to Mammon, who shrunk down in his seat, “And you. Flying in the gallery? I asked you to behave yourself and not-”

“Have you told them?” Satan’s voice was low, but it rang out across the dining room as if he had shouted. His immediate vicinity was pitch black at this point. His horns were curling through his hair and when he looked up, his eyes were glowing, “Have you told everyone at this table? Or were you just keeping me out of the loop?”

Lucifer and Satan began their stare down, until Asmo interrupted, “Told us what?” Satan turned to Asmo, and the look on his face almost made Asmo shrink back a bit in fear, but he repeated, “Tell us what?”

“Satan, don’t you-”

“Mc is here. In the Devildom,” and then looking straight at Lucifer, “As an angel.”

Everything stopped. No one moved as the news sunk in. Oddly enough, it was Levi who finally spoke, “H-H-Hold on. M-Mc?”

Satan responded, still keeping direct eye contact with Lucifer, “I heard her last night over the intercom.”

Lucifer was glaring at this point, “You must have been-”

“Mammon confirmed it.”

Everyone looked over to Mammon, who was gone.

“That little-”

“Don’t you DARE PUNISH HIM, WHEN YOU LIED TO US!” Satan was in full demon form at this point, his power oozing across the table, “WITHOUT MAMMON LAST NIGHT, THERE WOULD HAVE A LOT MORE PROBLEMS THAN THERE WAS!”

“Is it true Lucifer?” Beel was staring at Lucifer with sad puppy dog eyes.

“Satan wouldn’t lie about this,” Belphie said, his tail swishing around behind him, looking at Lucifer with absolute disgust.

Lucifer was now glaring at all the questioning eyes around the table, “This is not the time nor the place to discuss this. I need to-”

“You’re just going to leave?! After that bombshell?!” Levi’s voice was threatening to crack as he stood up, eyes wide, “My Henry is… a-alive,” his voice did crack on the word and his eyes were misty, “The one normie who understood me, and you didn’t think I would want to know this information?!”

“Of course he didn’t,” Belphie growled, his horns out, “This is the demon who would lock his own brother up in the attic. What does he care about us?”

“You wanted to keep her all for yourself, didn’t you?” Asmo shouted, tears rolling down his face.

“Does Lord Diavolo know about this?” Beel asked, still seeming to try to come to terms with what he just heard, brow furrowed.

“I really think we should all-” A plate went flying at Lucifer’s face, followed by a cup and a bowl.

“You think we should all do what? Submit to you just because you're the oldest? Forget that you kept the knowledge about Mc all to yourself? Rejoice that, again, you decided what’s best for all of us?”

Lucifer’s face went completely blank at that last line, Satan’s implied meaning not lost on him, “Enough. I am not discussing this any further.”

“You weren’t discussing it with us in the first place! Do you think I’m an idiot or something? Do you think we’re all idiots? Is that why you treat us the way you do?” Satan shouted at Lucifer as he left the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How hard is it to find one angel among a world of demons?” Satan asked, not for the first time since he had started searching. After he had screamed at Lucifer, he had left the house, and started his search. If Mc was still in the Devildom, he was going to find her. He had been pretty optimistic about his chances of finding her when he started, knowing he had a really extensive network of acquaintances. Surely one of them would know where to find her.

Satan had now been out for three days trying to track her down, and was no closer to finding her than when he had first started. Anyone who had gone to the art show only questioned him on why he had been running and laughed when he said he had wanted to be at the center, wondering why he’d be so interested in an angel that he had broken custom. No one seemed to have recognized her as Mc, though he knew some of them had met her. He had introduced them himself. No one had any pictures of the artist in question and the page that she had posted his artist talk on had been taken down.

He entered an open area, sinking down on a bench, “Could I have misinterpreted Mammon? Is it not actually Mc?” he sighed into the open air around him. A soft wind was the only response. Satan sighed, lowering his head into his hands, “If I was wrong though, I don’t think Lucifer would have reacted the way he did. Mammon also slunk off to who knows where, and he wouldn’t have unless he was in trouble. It’s almost like she died again and everyone’s trying to keep me from finding out.” The soft scent of MoonBeam Flowers wafted through the air, “I didn’t know they grew around here,” Satan muttered, breathing in deeply, sinking into a memory.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh! Satan! This one’s so pretty!” Mc grinned, running over to stare at the blooms, “Oh, and they smell so good too!”

Satan chuckled, “Don’t let my brothers hear you say that.”

“Why?”

“Well, these flowers are caused by angel feathers. They’re everywhere in the Celestial Realm, especially during molting season, so much so they’re basically a weed. The ones in the Celestial Realm smell a lot like roses, while the ones down here have a lot… darker and deeper of a scent. It’s still florally, but it’s got a lot more musk.

“When my brother’s and Lilith fell, their feathers scattered through the air as they lost their wings. Those feathers then landed and sprouted these flowers throughout the Devildom. All the colors are colors of the moon, and there’s one for each of them. Black is Lucifer’s, gold Mammon, yellow Levi, light pink Asmo, orange Belphie and red Beel. Every so often, one of my feathers will fall, and those are white. Lilith’s were blue, but Beel and Belphie picked them all to put bouquets on her grave. Lucifer was going to have them all eradicated, but Diavolo liked them, especially the black ones, so here they remain.”

Mc looked at the blooms with new reverence, “Are there more black than any other color?”

“Yes, since he still has feathers.”

“Is it hard for your brothers to see the flowers?”

“I’m not sure if it’s worse seeing them for Asmo, Mammon and Beel since their wings transformed or Levi and Belphie since they lost their wings completely.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“How do you feel about them?”

“I don’t have much feeling one way or another about my flowers. They simply are.”

“... Do you miss flying?” Mc’s voice was small, worried she’s stepped into territory she wasn’t allowed in.

“I guess, in a way, though I have never owned a pair of wings. I have memories of flight, but I myself have never flown of my own volition, so… I guess the answer is no.”

The conversation moved on from there, until they reached the end of the botanical garden, “I have a new favorite flower,” Mc announced.

“Which one? It’s still the mirage flower, isn’t it?”

“Nope.”

“What is it then?”

“MoonBeam Flowers of course, though the white ones are a particular favorite,” she winked, grinning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Satan was so caught up in his memory, he didn’t hear the hesitant footsteps as they approached him.

“Satan?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part Seven and a Half

#finding you #obey me #obey me!#obey me! swd #obey me satan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me mc #obey me f!mc #my writing #obey me long fic

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carewyncromwell · 4 years

Photo

POTC AU go time! Pictured above are fresh-faced pirate Charlie Weasley, the mystical witch of Tortuga Chiara Dalma, and so-called “Pirate Dragon” Samantha O’Connell @samshogwarts! Looks like these three are a bit over their heads...let’s see if they can get out of it!

For those of you who appreciate my mini-history lectures surrounding real Caribbean pirates of the 17th and 18th century (please let me know if you do, I will happily geek TF out if it’s something you all like XD) -- Tortuga is an island in modern-day Haiti. It was originally a Spanish colony, settled in the 15th century not long after Mr. Despicable himself Christopher Columbus “discovered” the New World. Despite this, and despite the, er...tempestuous relationship between Spain and its neighboring countries, Tortuga ended up also hosting both English and French settlements, largely made up of buccaneers, in the 17th century. Buccaneers were an ancestor of the more classic “pirates” we think of today -- the biggest differences were that they were privateers, meaning they worked on behalf of a country and only attacked ships from other countries (i.e. a British privateer like Sir Francis Drake would only attack Spanish or French ships), and that buccaneers specifically congregated in that area of the Caribbean (namely, Tortuga and the island of Hispaniola) alone. Historically, however, Tortuga stopped being a great place for buccaneers to gather before the end of the 17th century -- specifically when treaties were passed officially banning those old privateers from attacking foreign vessels during times of peace, circa 1680. This also effectively killed off the buccaneer as a profession, until the War of Spanish Succession turned a lot more privateers who had fought during the War into the more classic 18th century pirates we think of today. During the most famous period of the Golden Age of Piracy -- namely, the third and final wave after the War of Spanish Succession ended in 1714, which hosted all of the best known pirates like Blackbeard and which both the Pirates films and this AU is set in -- it would’ve been far more common to find actual historical pirates in places like St. Mary’s Island off the coast of Madagascar or (I’m not kidding) Port Royal, Jamaica, which was quite frankly NOT the beautiful, upstanding city we see in the films. In truth, it actually prospered under piracy, until Port Royal’s leadership finally decided to crack down hard on pirates circa 1720. In this project, though, for the sake of iconography, I will treat Tortuga very much the way Port Royal would’ve really been historically -- a pirate island which, in this time period, was suddenly barraged by the pirates’ enemies and was immediately no longer a safe place for pirates to hide in. (Of course, historical pirates were much less likable or sympathetic than the pirate characters in this AU are, regardless of how objectively hard their existence was and how frankly horrid the world was in general for anyone who wasn’t upper-class, white, and male back then.)

The so-called “seven seas” have gone through a lot of “shuffling around” over the centuries, as our understanding of the world has grown. The phrase was first used by the Ancient Greeks, but back then of course, they didn’t know about the existence of bodies of water like the Caribbean Sea and the Pacific Ocean. In the Pirates films, there are nine Pirate lords for the Pacific, Indian, and Atlantic Oceans, as well as the South China, Caspian, Adriatic, Black, Mediterranean, and Caribbean Seas. I’ve slimmed down the number to just seven for the sake of referencing the so-called “seven seas,” and also because with the Pirate King, that would then give us eight pieces of eight, which seems like a much more logical number than nine pieces of eight. (Plus, to me, the Caspian and Black Seas are kind of weird choices to have Lords for as the Caspian is land-locked and the Black Sea can only be sailed into through a narrow channel in the Mediterranean...and from what I can tell, there wasn’t much 17th-18th century piracy specifically centered around those two seas either.)

Previous part of the AU is here -- whole tag is here -- and of course Jules Farrier-Weasley belongs to @cursebreakerfarrier and Finn McGarry / Davy Jones belongs to @theguythatdraws. <3

x~x~x~x

In the nearly three weeks since Jules, Bill, and Charlie said goodbye to Carewyn, the three had practically been thrown head-first into what piracy truly meant. Sailing aboard the Artemis hadn’t been as glamorous as the stories Jules grew up with, but trying to steer the Revolution with only three people aboard without enough food or drink to go around, all the while knowing that just about no ships they might come across and very few islands they might land on would be friendly to them, was something that didn’t sink in until one was left sitting up all night thinking it over. Everything the three owned now -- everything they were -- was either on their person or on this ship...and if anything happened to the ship, they wouldn’t just lose the belongings they had on board, but also the only way they could transport themselves out of danger and the only “home” they still had. No one would likely even know anything had happened to them until days, weeks, or even months afterwards. It was like nothing tethered them to the Earth at all -- like they had no gravity and could just fly up into the air at any time, disappearing forever without a trace.

There was a freedom to it, of course, knowing that you didn’t have to be defined by how you were born or what arbitrary value society placed on you...and yet, the freedom came at a cost.

The three Weasleys arrived on the island of Tortuga within four days. Truthfully it wasn’t really a place a lot of people would enjoy visiting -- it was loud, filthy, seedy, and treacherous, and yet, it was a safe place for them to fill their bellies and get their ship repaired and outfitted with new crew members.

There were a few pirates who initially balked at the idea of joining the crew of a ship captained by a woman, but before long, Jules made a name for herself in Tortuga after she was able to out-maneuver two drunken men twice her size in a fight, the first by ducking under his arm and then smashing a bottle of rum over his head to knock him out and the second by stealing his own pistol out of his belt and pointing it right between his eyes until he backed off.

Charlie couldn’t help but grin as the pirate rather cowardly slunk off like a dog with his tail between his legs.

“Bloody hell, Jules!” he laughed. “Reckon you scared him so bad he’ll be running off crying to Mummy...”

Jules crossed her arms, the man’s pistol still in her hand. “Well, he had it coming. Not wanting to be on our crew I can accept, but I am not a thing he can pay for.”

“You can’t be bought, period,” agreed Bill lowly, shooting a rather dirty look at the man’s back as he secured an arm around his wife’s waist. “Least of all by a disgusting cur like him.”

Charlie gave a low whistle.

“Blimey, Bill, a man of the Church, swearing like that?” he teased. “Whatever happened to turning the other cheek?”

“Ecclesiastes 3:8 -- ‘there is a time to love and a time to hate,’” said Bill coolly. “This is not a time to love.”

Jules smiled wryly up at Bill.

“I might have to disagree,” she said amusedly, as she tilted his head down enough to ensnare his lips with her own.

Not long after they arrived, Orion and the crew of Artemis met the Weasleys in Tortuga, as planned. It was good to see some familiar and friendly faces, in a sea of insincere smiles and shady looks. Orion immediately introduced the crew of the Revolution to a few of his “friends” on the island -- Andre Egwu, a rather fashionable pirate who had once been both a tailor and a French privateer; Erika Rath, the rough-and-tough owner of the Faithful Bride tavern, who had been a pirate herself before settling in Tortuga to offer a safe place to those who were too ill, young, old, or otherwise unable to sail anymore; Ethan Parkin, Skye’s father and a retired pirate himself, who, despite being a rather egotistical sort that disdained Orion quite a bit, still was always willing to do the crew of the Artemis and their associates a favor, for the sake of his daughter; and a pirate solely called “Face Paint” who was known on the island for being a master of disguise that could not only look like anyone they wanted, but also make other people look like just about anyone else too.

Andre and Face Paint were able to help out all three Weasleys with their wardrobes, so that they “fit” a bit more with the pirates of the island. Bill picked out a new belt that could better fit a scabbard for his sword, and Jules finally got a hat worthy of a captain -- a forest green tricorn hat trimmed with silver embroidery. Charlie was even able to snatch up a pair of boots made of a black scaly material that reminded him of the pictures of dragons he’d see in books as a kid. Charlie had expected Andre to encourage him to shave too, since both he and Bill were already getting a bit stubbly since they hadn’t shaved since they left Port Royal, but Andre actually discouraged this.

“If people know you better without a beard, then you should grow one,” he advised. “The more different you can look from how you did before, the better the chances you’ll have of not immediately being recognized, if you collide with the wrong person. In general, my advice is to change your look up every four to six months, just to throw off the authorities.”

Bill, Jules, and Charlie also accompanied Orion on his visit to the far corner of Tortuga, over a small lake to an eerie-looking worn-down shack on stilts in the middle of the water, which was the home to the resident “witch” of Tortuga.

“Have you ever met a witch before?” Jules asked Bill and Charlie.

Both Weasley brothers shook their heads, looking a little disconcerted.

“She’s truly not as terrifying as everyone makes her out to be,” said McNully reassuringly. “I’d say there’s only a 63% chance she’ll curse you if you make a wrong move.”

Charlie shot him a flabbergasted look. “Oh, that’s encouraging.”

Skye gave a light “hmph!”

“My best piece of advice? Try not to make eye contact and let Orion do the talking,” she said under her breath. “The witch can do favors for you, if you somehow get on her good side and give her proper payment...but she doesn’t trust easily.”

“And likes anyone even more rarely,” added McNully, though he sounded more thoughtful than Skye. “Orion’s one of the few people I’d say she does favor a bit...though I reckon that’s because they go back a ways, and Orion’s not really like most pirates...”

“It’s pirates especially she doesn’t like,” said Skye.

Charlie frowned. “If she doesn’t like pirates, then why is she here, on an island owned by pirates?”

“I reckon witches probably don’t have a lot of safe places they can live as it is, Charlie,” Bill pointed out somberly. “Even the Bible says you should not suffer a witch to live. She probably lives here because she doesn’t have much choice.”

When they reached the dock under the shack, they tied up their boat, McNully staying behind to watch it while Orion, Skye, Jules, Bill, and Charlie climbed the ladder up into the shack itself. It was a bizarre place with various bottles, model planets, and other such trinkets dangling from the ceiling, and toward the back of the single large room was a table covered in a dirty grayish white tablecloth covered in spots and stains.

The witch called Chia Dalma was almost ethereal in appearance, from her long, flowing white hair to her sea-blue eyes to her bloodless, porcelain skin. She wore a rather worn, clearly second-hand dark red dress and a full-moon-shaped locket around her neck. She also considered all of Orion’s party with considerable distrust in her eyes -- Charlie felt like he was being X-rayed. Orion, however, acted as though he didn’t even notice the scrutiny the others were getting and spoke to Chia very pleasantly after giving her some incense and a jar of candied pineapple.

“How are the stars sounding, to you?” he asked. “From what I’ve seen, Venus is particularly bright, right now -- I would think you’ve heard a lot about love, in your conversations with the night sky.”

Chia finally tore her critical eye off of Charlie to turn to Orion, her posture still noticeably guarded.

“Yes,” she said, “though I believe there’s a reason you noticed Venus’s brightness in particular, as opposed to the rest of the planets’ movements.”

Her voice was very soft and understated, enough to make you freeze where you stood and hold your breath in a subconscious attempt to hear her better. Despite this, her discerning look on Orion was considerably less suspicious: if anything, it looked almost curious.

A flicker of a smile teased at the corners of Orion’s mouth.

“...I suppose I may have.”

Bill and Charlie both shot Orion looks out the side of their eye. They had a feeling they knew exactly why that was.

Bill and Jules had talked to Charlie about their suspicions about Orion and Carewyn, and although Jules had been very supportive of it and even Bill acknowledged that Orion did seem to feel genuine affection for Carewyn, Charlie himself still felt a bit uncomfortable about it. To him, Carewyn was his twin -- although in a lot of ways, she was more like Bill personality-wise and Bill and she were clearly the best of friends, Charlie and Carewyn had still been two peas in a pod for a lot of the War. Because they were seen as twin brothers by the Navy, they were often positioned together and ended up supporting each other whenever Bill -- the person they both loved and trusted more than anyone else -- wasn’t around. This whole experience was the first time he’d really been apart from Carewyn since he’d first joined the Navy...and with Bill now married to Jules and the whole world suddenly being against them...Charlie found himself missing his “twin” more than ever.

‘Orion’s not a bad bloke,’ Charlie thought to himself. ‘If Carey really likes him, I’d understand, but...I just don’t want things to change anymore than they already have...’

Becoming estranged from Percy had been hard enough. Knowing that Bill and he would drift apart as his older brother made a life of his own with Jules, and thinking of Carewyn making a life of her own with Orion, while he himself was left on the sidelines...it was a thought Charlie didn’t like wallowing in.

Chia regarded Orion with a more solemn look as she took a seat at her table.

“It would behoove you to take a more complete look at the planets,” she said lowly. “There’s friction growing between Saturn and Uranus.”

Orion’s eyes narrowed, though his expression remained typically serene. Charlie glanced from Orion to Chia.

“...What does that mean?” he asked.

Skye shot him a look as if to warn him to be quiet -- Chia turned her attention to Charlie, her blue eyes boring into him with such intensity that Charlie flinched back a bit despite himself.

“Saturn represents Law -- a rigid structure,” she answered lowly. “Uranus, his father, represents Disorder -- Unpredictability -- Rebellion and Reformation. It suggests that there is to be great upheaval, very soon -- a large shift, the likes of which none of you have seen in your lifetimes.”

Charlie’s eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Bigger than the War?”

Chia’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“That was a War fought solely for the advancement of a few,” she said, her voice noticeably cool. “However big it felt to you, Charles Weasley, it merely reinforced what was already there, and so it will ultimately be forgotten. Only the ripples of that War -- the ones we feel, in this moment -- will leave any real impact.”

Charlie wanted to ask how Chia knew his name, but Orion spoke before he could.

“Can you tell which planet is rising, of the two?”

Chia glanced up at the model planets over her head pensively. “Right now, no. They’re on a collision course in the night sky, set to eclipse each other...but I can’t say which will fall first...and what will fall here on Earth, in response.”

Chia’s eyes drifted from Orion to Charlie to Jules, narrowing a bit more critically as she considered each of them in turn.

“One thing is for sure, though -- when two such powerful planets meet, it signals the end of an age. Whatever’s born from the ashes of that end may be up to whomever is fortunate enough to survive.”

The group left Chia Dalma’s feeling considerably less comfortable than when they arrived. Despite this, and despite how weirded out he was that she’d known who he was before he’d even told her his name, Charlie had to admit to himself that she didn’t seem as scary as Skye or McNully had made her out to be. She kind of reminded him of the ocean in a way -- mysterious and intimidating, sure, but ultimately something worthy of respect. Even just the way she spoke seemed to hint to her being much older than her face would suggest.

No one in the group had any idea what Chia Dalma could’ve meant when she discussed “an great upheaval” until over a week later. That was the day that the Flying Dutchman arrived on the shores of Tortuga and, without any warning, opened fire.

It was Hell the likes of which even Bill or Charlie had never seen. Cannonballs blasted through buildings, smashing windows and shattering walls. Before long, whole buildings were coming down and crushing people as they fled. Then the Flying Dutchman’s crew came ashore, undead and rotten and crusted over with barnacles and sea-life, as if they’d been swallowed up and spat back out of the sea itself -- and they killed and captured by the hundreds, with both swords and nets.

Then the Captain of the Dutchman himself, his octopus-like face visibly furious as his lobster-like claw clutched at the front of his chest where his heart should be, turned his ire on the settlement itself.

Cutler Beckett wanted him to send the pirates a message, did he? Well, then...he’d send them a message they’d see for miles.

With a click of his claw, Jones conjured up a large, flaming cinder, which he then chucked at the Faithful Bride. In an instant, it was set ablaze...and all of the pirates trying to hide inside the tavern were soon forced to flee and be captured, or burn to death. The fire spread from roof to roof, and soon all of Tortuga was in flames.

In the midst of the chaos, the crews of the Artemis and the Revolution hurried back to their ships, preparing to retreat. As Charlie ran behind Jules and Bill, however, he stopped abruptly when he caught sight of a white-haired figure being shoved around inside the crowd. It was Chia Dalma. She looked like she was trying to push through, but the horde was quickly devolving around her, trapping her in once spot.

Making up his mind very quickly, Charlie darted back the way he came.

“CHARLIE!” cried Bill.

“SET SAIL!” Charlie bellowed back. “I’LL CATCH UP!”

“CHARLIE!” Jules shouted too.

“Wait -- !”

Was that Orion’s voice? Charlie had never heard him sound tense like that before. Nevertheless, he couldn’t stop. He pressed on, unsheathing his sword as he pushed and shoved the other pirates aside.

“Move! Bugger off!”

Finally he was able to make his way over to Chia Dalma, just in time to block a block a blow from a shark-headed sailor’s sword.

“Oi!” he said angrily. “Leave the lady alone, you toothy maggot!”

The two immediately started to fight, until Charlie managed to get the upper hand by slashing at his flipper-like leg and then shoving him back off his feet through the window of a house.

He turned to Chia Dalma.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

The witch’s gaze was just as piercing and guarded as it had been before as she analyzed Charlie’s face.

“Yes,” she said softly.

Charlie offered her a smile, even as more sailors charged at them.

“Stick close to me, all right?” he told her.

“You can’t win against the crew of the Flying Dutchman,” said Chia very gravely.

“Not with that attitude!” said Charlie almost cheekily. Seeing the severe look on her face, he said a little more seriously, “Look, I get that you don’t trust me -- I don’t know you at all either -- but I’m not just going to sit back and watch someone die if I can help it. And if this is the crew of Davy Jones, you’ll die if you stay here.”

The sentiment seemed to cause Chia visible pain. Her eyes abruptly hardened.

“Do not speak with such certainty about Davy Jones,” she said very sharply. “He may be a heartless being now, but that doesn’t make him devoid of conscience, or of feeling.”

Charlie frowned deeply and was prepared to ask Chia what she meant, but before he could, he soon found himself faced with another crew member from the Dutchman with a face covered in barnacles and starfish and had to immediately go on the attack again.

Charlie fought off three other fishy sailors, beating them back as best he could as she tried to steer himself and Chia back toward the docks. But as more time passed, the flames engulfing the nearby buildings only grew. Soot and ash rained from the air, making it harder to breathe by the second.

Charlie struggled to breathe normally as he fought the sailors away from Chia Dalma, but there were just too many of them, and just like with the cursed crew of the Revenge, they didn’t go down easily. Somehow, he managed to steer Chia to the dock, where the Revolution was still floating close by, their anchor already weighed and a ladder dangling off the edge.

“COME ON, CHARLIE!” cried Bill.

Coughing hard, Charlie brought an arm around Chia Dalma, pushing her slightly forward.

“Go on, climb up -- ”

BAM.

All of a sudden, Chia whirled on Charlie, grabbing hold of him and shoving him backward and to the ground just in time to avoid a giant explosion of flames that collided with the dock. The force of the explosion made the ocean water around the island crash, shoving the Revolution back with the force.

“CHARLIE!”

Charlie could hear both Bill and Jules’s voices as the ship was thrown backward away from the island by a massive, torrential wave. His heart gave a spasm of terror as he stared at the red-hulled ship being tossed like a bath toy in the chaos.

“BILL! JULES!”

Within moments, Charlie and Chia Dalma were surrounded by the Flying Dutchman’s crew. Charlie immediately stood in front of Chia protectively as they were encircled. The witch, for her part, looked disconcerted by the Dutchman’s crew’s appearance, but not in the way that she looked afraid -- if anything, she almost looked deeply troubled.

“There’s reluctance, in their eyes,” she murmured.

Charlie glanced back at her. “Huh?”

Chia’s lips came together seriously. “You know the purpose of the Flying Dutchman?”

“Yeah -- it’s supposed to ferry the dead.”

As Charlie considered this, he realized that this was strange. Why would a crew that was supposed to ferry those lost at sea into the next life be attacking Tortuga?

Chia nodded solemnly. “They’re not here of their own free will. Neither they nor Davy Jones...have come here because they wish to.”

Charlie felt his jaw clench as he stared down the circle of sailors holding up nets and pointing their swords at them as they prepared to capture them.

“Maybe they haven’t, but that doesn’t make them our mates,” he muttered.

Just as it seemed that Charlie was out-numbered, there was a loud rumbling down the street. A whole cart full of barrels were rolling right down the street, right at them.

Chia abruptly grabbed hold of the back of Charlie’s shirt and in an instant, the two had levitated about four feet off the ground, just in time to avoid the throng of barrels knocking over the Dutchman’s crew like nine pins.

As Chia and Charlie slowly returned to the ground, they were joined by another pirate -- a rather striking blonde with emerald-colored eyes. She held a pistol in one hand and her sword in the other as she rolled down the street on one of the barrels, jumping off of it to land on Chia’s other side.

“You both all right?” she asked, as she lifted her leg just enough that she could catch the barrel she’d arrived on with her foot.

“...Aye,” said Charlie after a moment, still a bit in awe about having just been floating in the air like a cloud. “Thanks, uh...?”

“Samantha O’Connell,” she introduced herself quickly.

Charlie blinked. “The Pirate Dragon?”

Both Samantha and he immediately had to duck to avoid a grenade being chucked over at them. It seemed some of the Dutchman’s sailors had recovered from the “barrel attack” and were coming back.

“Look, I’m all for introductions and ‘how-do-you-do’s,’” said Samantha with a wry smile, “but right now, we’d better move!”

Urging Chia in front of her, she then ran down the street away from the dock, Charlie at her heels.

It seemed that the infamous “Pirate Dragon” and Charlie also had a mutual friend in Orion Amari. Despite persuading both crews to “keep to the Pirate Code” (namely, that whoever falls behind is left behind), Samantha nonetheless had enough honor to -- upon seeing Charlie and Chia had been separated from the others -- backtrack enough to make sure they got away too, even if it couldn’t be on the Artemis or Revolution.

“I have my own ketch here at the eastern dock, which I’ll be taking back to my ship,” she explained as they ran. “There are a few others you can choose from, to steer yourself and Ms. Dalma here to Shipwreck Cove -- you’ll be safe there...”

“Shipwreck Cove?” repeated Charlie.

Chia Dalma’s eyes flashed at the name.

“The home of the Brethren Court,” she murmured very icily.

Samantha shot Chia a frown.

“Look, I get it if you don’t like going to another pirate haven, but it’s really the safest place, now. I doubt even Jones himself knows how to get there -- and once all the Pirate Lords assemble, we can come up with a plan to deal with this.”

Samantha immediately boarded the small blue-painted boat, preparing to cast off. Charlie was frowning more deeply than ever in confusion as he jumped aboard a neighboring red-painted ketch.

“There are Pirate Lords?” he asked.

“Of course -- the owners of the seven Pieces of Eight, representing each of the seven seas,” Samantha said logically, as if it were common knowledge. “Or at least six out of the seven -- the Piece of Eight representing the Pacific Ocean was lost after its Lord, Bartholomew Sharp, died...anyway, Orion’s one of the Lords too, so he’ll be able to show your sister-in-law the way and you can meet the rest of your crew there -- ”

Charlie could hear a lot of shouting and pillaging growing louder in the distance. Soon the Flying Dutchman’s crew would be on top of them again --

He quickly threw out a hand, offering it to Chia Dalma. “Come on -- we’d better hurry.”

Chia glanced back in the direction of the flaming city, her blue eyes narrowing. It almost seemed like she was conflicted.

“Listen, Ms. Dalma,” said Samantha sharply, “Jones is under the control of the East India Trading Company and the British Navy.”

Both Charlie and Chia Dalma straightened up abruptly, visibly shocked.

“I overheard Jones say that Beckett’s orders had been to ‘send a message to all pirates.’ That can only mean that Beckett has some leverage over Jones and has impressed him into service. We can’t hope to deal with Jones until we deal with Beckett’s leverage first, and to do that, we have to deal with Beckett.”

Chia once again looked at the flaming buildings, her eyes rippling with emotions Charlie couldn’t read. Then, at last, she closed her eyes, swallowed, and turned to Charlie, taking his hand and boarding the boat.

“See you in Shipwreck Cove!” said Samantha, shooting a bright smile over her shoulder at Charlie. “Good luck!”

Charlie watched her go, before weighing anchor and immediately setting sail with Chia Dalma himself.

The crew of the Flying Dutchman only arrived just in time to see the two ketches already floating off into the distance and out of sight. Chia herself stood at the railing of the boat long after Tortuga had disappeared over the horizon, holding the moon-shaped locket around her neck in her hand. Charlie pulled on the rigging to pull the sail toward the starboard side, glancing over at her with some sympathy.

“You knew Jones...didn’t you?”

Chia glanced back at Charlie, her eyes very unreadable. Then she returned her gaze to the horizon.

Charlie secured the rigging, knotting it tightly.

“...I understand how hard it is, to have to leave someone behind. There’s someone I’ve left behind too -- two people, in fact...who are also probably having to bow to the whims of Cutler Beckett, even if I’m sure they don’t want to...”

The memory of Percy’s pleading face and Carewyn’s stoicism in the face of her heartbreak both rippled over his mind.

“Charlie – don’t do this – think of Mum – think of us – ”

“I want you on a vessel so strong and so fast…that I can never catch up to you again.”

Charlie closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling heavily.

“...Sometimes, though...the only way you can really help them is by leaving them...however hard it is.”

There was a silence. Charlie opened his eyes and headed up to the helm, turning the wheel to help steer the boat through the waves.

While he was piloting the boat, however, he was interrupted by the soft clink. Chia Dalma had placed something on the edge of the deck within Charlie’s reach.

“This is for you, Charles Weasley,” she said.

Charlie blinked and picked it up. It was an old pewter button encrusted with gold and decorated with the icon of an anchor and an intricate cursive “S.”

“Oh, ah...thank you,” said Charlie awkwardly. He turned the button over in his hand. “...What’s the ‘S’ stand for?”

“Sharp,” Chia responded. “Bartholomew Sharp.”

Charlie straightened up. “The Pirate Lord Samantha mentioned?”

Chia inclined her head in a nod. “That is his Piece of Eight. Sharp abandoned his duties as Pirate Lord of the Pacific Ocean long before dying in prison in disgrace, and since then, it has been largely forgotten, by both pirates and honest explorers alike. It’s the last untamed sea, of the seven...”

Her blue eyes bore into Charlie’s face.

“...And now...it will be your responsibility...Pirate Lord Charles Weasley.”

#potc au #au #pirates of the caribbean #my art #my writing #chiara lobosca #charlie weasley #bill weasley #jules farrier #finn mcgarry #samantha o'connell #other people's mcs #orion amari #murphy mcnully #skye parkin #ethan parkin #erika rath #face paint kid #andre egwu #my fanfiction #DUN DUN DUN #my precious charlie a pirate lord!!#i'm so pwoud #X3 #yes I know charlie's not a captain yet which is usually a requirement to be a pirate lord but hey #the pacific ocean interestingly was VERY unaffected by the golden age of piracy #there was the expedition done by privateers like bartholomew sharp as mentioned but that was pretty solidly in the 17th century #sharp even died in prison in 1700 #so around this period there wasn't much happening in the pacific ocean outside of piracy closer to china and singapore #and the south china sea is also one of the 'seven seas' with a lord

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 4 years

Text

If They Didn’t Get on the Train Shana/Grace Deleted Scene:

Honestly, it wasn’t a deleted scene so much as when I was copying and pasting, I absolutely left it out of the chapter. @kujo1597 @andromidagalaxie One day, this tag will work between us. @strawdool @negromouthandafro I really didn’t have to do anything but copy and paste, but if there’s errors, I apologize. This takes place within Chapter 19′s time frame.

“Hey, Grace! There’s somebody that wanted to speak to you!” one of the bartenders said when she was finished with her set at a friend’s bar. She was successful, but she didn’t have the Monroe money that she had been brought up in, and her trust fund was still hefty, but she still had bills that she was responsible for, so she worked. She didn’t mind working, because she was able to do something that she loved. A lot of people knew her. A lot of famous people liked her. A lot of people tried to talk to her. She didn’t expect to see Shana whenever she turned her eyes towards where the bartender gestured.

The woman had a large puff in the back of her head and was wearing a beret on the smoothed down part. She smiled and headed Grace’s way and Grace didn’t know whether she should prepare herself to fight or just run so she wouldn’t have to. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember me, Bitch?” Shana asked and laughed. Grace relaxed a little, but was still tense. “Come sit down with me. I’ll buy you a drink.” Grace followed her, the frohawk on her own head peeking over the heads of others as they worked through the crowd and sat at a table. “What will you have?”

“They know me in here. Just a Gracefront.”

“A Gracefront?” Shana repeated and laughed. “What’s in it?”

“It's a frozen virgin melon spritzer. I don’t drink alcohol, so..”

Shana told the waitress, “Two Gracefronts - can you MAKE one of those alcoholic?” She nodded, ‘Thank God!” Once the waitress was gone, Shana looked at Grace, “You look great. You look like nothing ever happened to you.”

“Shana… I’m sorry for chinchecking you that day. I thought you deserved it, and maybe you did, maybe you didn’t. But, I regret a lot about those days. I’m not the same person anymore.”

Shana’s eyes flashed something like anger for the first time tonight, as she thought back to the time Grace straight up punched her. But, she waved a hand, “We were both some bitches, but we were entitled to it. Being young is hard, and we were surrounded by others, supposed to be and act a certain way. We had a lot of shit going on and we took some things out on each other, and some things that we took out on each other was well deserved. If i had realized then what I realize now, I wouldn’t have bothered you about that like I did. I’m presuming also that you wouldn’t have bugged me about daddy’s criminal endeavors.”

“I was so foul for that,” Grace admitted. They both laughed. “What brings you to New York? Someone told me that you were in Atlanta.”

“Who told you that?” Shana wondered.

“I think it was in the alumni group. I didn’t stay long. I only joined it to announce that I was out, so that people wouldn’t have to keep asking my parents.”

“It’s funny that somebody had the time to talk about me there, because I CERTAINLY never joined that alumni group. I hated the kids we went to school with. ESPECIALLY Simon’s narcissistic ass.” Shana watched Grace’s entire demeanor change. It was like she had just seen a ghost. “Sorry. I heard you don’t talk about him, but I sure do. Did anybody tell you about what happened at the end of senior year?”

“No. I don’t know anything but that you two were prom king and queen…”

“We weren’t together, if that’s what you thought. I couldn’t stand him. He actually thought I had a crush on him!”

Grace laughed, “Yeah, he told me that a few times. I never saw it myself, but Simon wasn’t great at taking hints. You sort of had to lead him to water.” The waitress brought their first round of drinks to them.

“I led him alright. I told him exactly what I thought about him, and you…” Shana replayed the conversations, including the announcement at the prom, which made Grace instantly terrified for her and she grew more anxious as Shana retold the parking lot incident. “And after that, I just didn’t feel safe. I finished school via distance learning and I high tailed it to ATL as soon as I got my diploma. It’s been lit. You should come through sometime. Atlanta has a very vibrant music scene for Black people.”

“I’m at Julliard right now, so I definitely won’t be moving any time soon, but I did consider spending some time in Atlanta at some point, so maybe. But, you never told me what you’re doing out here.”

“My girlfriend is from New York, so whenever I saw that you were gonna be performing here during a visit, I figured that I’d come say hi.”

“Really?”

“I was wondering for a while if you really didn’t want to talk about Simon, or if you just wanted to be able to tell your side to someone who wasn’t trying to flog you for all the world to see.”

“Oh.”

Shana laughed, “I’m a journalist, Grace. But, I was also around whenever everything happened and I never thought that it happened the way that it was being said. I didn’t think it was fair, even for you.”

“Well, it’s over and done with now. What difference would it make?” Grace asked.

“You think that wherever Simon Laurent is, he’s just letting people be? You think he’s not having angry outbursts on people in Massachusetts? You think he hasn’t set some rival scientist up for failure or terrified some ex girlfriend into obscurity?”

“I think he's a best selling author, ergo a public figure and that if he did do stuff like that, it would come to light, so, it’s not my business or my problem. I didn’t make people believe his stories or want to hear more about them. It’s not my responsibility to discredit him.” Grace gestured for another drink and began to nervously fold a napkin into an origami bird.

Shana sighed and leaned back in her seat. “I just always wonder how many people bad men can reach. I love my dad, don’t get me wrong, but when I started to research all of the people who were hurt by his crime, it made me lose sleep. When women do wrong, we get what’s coming to us, via the media and in the court system. SOMETIMES, we get it worse, for less infractions. Simon did some very illegal things, and pinned most of it on you and the biggest thing he did only hurt you, when it was legit a very serious crime.” Grace was transported to the way she felt whenever Shana showed her that video. “And I helped. I made it worse. I… it was fucked up.” Shana sighed and sat up. “I was hoping that if you wanted someone to report your side, let your truth show, that you might let me be the person to do it. I owe you that much.”

Grace laughed and shook her head, “That would be a career building story. Everybody wants to know what I have to say about Simon, so it’s not like I wouldn’t be doing you a huge favor in giving you that exclusive.”

“You would be! But, it could help both of us.”

“But, more you though. You know… people that I run into, in everyday life - they don’t even ask me about Simon. They tell me that they loved my twerking pancakes remix video, or that they saw me perform last fall and it blew their mind. I never have to think about Simon unless something else triggers it. This wouldn’t do me any favors, but thank you for the drinks. And, as I said in the beginning, I’m sorry.”

“What would I be able to do? Get you something? Find somebody? What would be a payoff enough for you to talk to me about this?”

“Can you find people?” Grace asked.

“I have a lot of resources for finding people.”

“I was in the center with a girl. She’s been in and out of centers and they won’t give me information, even though we were very close. If you can find her for me, I will think about an interview with you about Simon.”

“That’s not very promising…”

“If you can tell me where she is, I’ll give you an interview… about how I currently feel. Not about what happened before. How do I feel about Simon? That's what everybody wants to know about me. Nobody cares about the truth and I don’t want to stir that up. But, if you can tell me where Hazel Doe is, I will tell you anything I have thought about Simon Laurent since I’ve been a free woman.”

Shana snatched the origami bird and scribbled on it, “Okay Hazel D-O-U-G-H?’

“D-O-E, as in Jane.”

“Okay. Where was the last place that you knew of that she was?” Grace opened her phone to give Shana the information. “This… This is a kid, Grace. Do you know how difficult it is to find kids?”

“Yes, I’ve been trying!”

Shana groaned, but she continued taking down the information, “History of abuse or kidnapping? Because that’ll really give us a hard time.”

“Possibly… Look… this kid means a lot to me. If you really feel like something is the least you can do, it would be this.”

Shana nodded and put the napkin in her bag.

#If They Didn't Get on the Train #AU Infinity Train #Infinity Train #Nesha Fanfiction #Infinity Train Fanfiction #fics #No Train Yes Trauma

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moveslikebuckywrites · 4 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Good Omens (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Slow Dancing

Gift Fics again! This time for @ladyoutlier set to Earth Angel! Aziraphale has a bad day, but Crowley is there to cheer him up. I wanted to write some fluffy softness as a balm for that 1992 script today. I’m so glad we live in the good timeline xD

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Today had not been kind to Aziraphale. Not in the slightest bit.

He had a meeting around noon with a local rare book dealer about a particular first edition he’d been seeking for quite a while. They’d agreed to meet at a cafe local to the dealer at 3 on the dot. Aziraphale, being ever punctual, had arrived at 2:30. Nothing wrong with having a spot of cocoa and a scone while he waited; and he was always on the lookout for new places to drag Crowley to. He made it inside just a few minutes before the rain started outside.

Things had gone off the rails almost immediately. The hot cocoa was made with hot water , thin and tasteless, with a dollop of whipped cream from a can floating sadly in the center. But Aziraphale was always an optimist, and he suffered through it, for the sake of the baristas. He didn’t want to inconvenience them.

He’d gotten a cranberry orange scone, and it hadn’t been much better. Far too crumbly, he could barely pick it up without it falling apart. And the ratio of scone to fruit was ridiculous. He counted two cranberries in the entire scone, and he was pretty sure whoever made it had forgotten the orange entirely.

He was silently seething as the clock struck three, the book dealer still nowhere in sight. He decided to take a look at the papers in the meantime, but the only ones left in the shop were from two weeks prior. He thought to himself that beggars were the last ones to be choosers and read the same stories he already knew about, contemplating one of those ‘smart phones’ Crowley was always trying to get him to buy.

By the time 3:30 rolled around, he’d read the paper cover to cover at least three times. He folded it and tossed it on the table, with his barely-drunk cocoa and hardly-touched scone. Aziraphale hadn’t brought a book with him this time; his tendency to get absorbed wasn’t always appreciated in these meetings, and he didn’t want to be off-putting to this new potential source. It had been so long since he’d found a new dealer to work with, and the older ones were starting to dwindle in their offerings anyway. He settled for people watching, and throwing a few minor miracles around to those passing who needed them.

By 4:30 he decided the dealer would be a no-show, and resigned himself to the long walk back to the bookshop. The rain, at least, had let up by this point. He hadn’t thought to bring an umbrella, and that would’ve just made things worse.

At five he was about a block away from the bookshop, ready to be home with Crowley and forget about this entire day and fruitless endeavors, when a lorry slammed through a puddle on the road, splashing him from head to toe. He stopped in place and heaved a sigh, this day just wouldn’t let him off the hook.

It should be noted that even the best of us are susceptible to a bad day. Even angels and even demons. Aziraphale has weathered his fair share of them - you don’t live on Earth for six thousand years without encountering a few. This particular day paled in comparison to most of the ones he’d had, but sometimes even the kindest, nicest, and most put-together people will succumb to a string of innocuous bad events and sink into what is professionally known as a “funk”.

This is the state we find Aziraphale in as he returns to the bookshop. Dejected, soaking wet, and downright depressed. He unlocks the door, snapping his fingers quickly to rid himself of the water. It wouldn’t do to drip all over the floors, the old wood wouldn’t take kindly to it. Despite this, he still feels chilled to the bone and a bit damp. Drying miracles never quite manage to get all of the water out.

He climbs the stairs to their tiny shared flat on the second floor. It’s small, but it’s home, and it’s just enough for them. Before he gets to the second step he can already smell it. Tomatoes, basil, garlic, mushrooms. Crowley must be making pasta tonight. Aziraphale loves it when Crowley cooks for him. He’s been learning, which had surprised Aziraphale at first. A Crowley completely free from the confines of head office had turned out to be quite the romantic. Candlelit dinners, lots of sweet nothings, and the clingiest cuddle-bug that Aziraphale had ever known (and he had known Wilde and been drunk with him).

The smell only gets stronger as he climbs the stairs, lifting his spirits ever so slightly. But the weight of the day is still heavy on his shoulders as he opens the door to the flat.

“Angel, that you?” he hears Crowley call out from the kitchen. Some kind of bebop is playing on the little radio there by the sink. Something about Sunday’s and wasted years.

“Yes; was a bit of a mess, I’m afraid,” Aziraphale says as he hangs his coat on the little angel wing hook by the door. (Crowley had thought it quite hilarious right after moving in. The other hook, currently holding a very flash black suit jacket, is a devil tail.) He slips his shoes off and puts them on the rack, turning to see Crowley leaning on the door frame of their little kitchen-slash-dining room, tea towel slung over his shoulder, bright red hair up in a messy half bun

“Deal didn’t go through then?” Crowley says, brows laced with concern. He knows how Aziraphale gets, especially by now. It’s been years since that fateful August day when they stood side by side on an old airstrip and faced down the forces of Heaven and Hell with a scrappy group of humans.

Crowley crosses over and wraps his arms around Aziraphale, placing a kiss into his hairline, “do I need to find the scumbag and stage a little demonic intervention?”

Aziraphale manages a slight chuckle as he nuzzles his face into Crowley’s neck. “No, I don’t think so, dearest. The dealer never showed.”

“The scumbag,” Crowley says with absolutely zero bite behind it, “I’ll curse him myself.”

“None of that, foul fiend.” Aziraphale says with infinite fondness. It’s been a long time since either of them have done anything truly in line with their respective sides.

Crowley absently runs a hand soothingly up and down the angel’s back. “Still, something else is on your mind, I can always tell.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Aziraphale sighs, “just several bad things all piling together.”

“Well,” Crowley pulls back and kisses Aziraphale quickly on the nose, “you’re not allowed to be sad because I made pasta, and you love pasta, and you love me.” Crowley rests his forehead against Aziraphale’s, touching their noses together. The intimacy of the action still takes Aziraphale’s breath away to this day.

Crowley kisses him quickly, then turns and makes his way back to the kitchen. Aziraphale follows close behind, sinking into one of the tiny bistro chairs of the little dining set they managed to fit into the corner. The rain has started back up outside, and Aziraphale leans his chin on his hand to stare out the window at it for a little bit.

Aziraphale doesn’t think he has a right to be this sad; everyone has bad days and he’s had much worse than this. Lots of their neighbors around Soho have had a worse day than he has, he can’t hear their prayers persay, but he can feel the general shape of their hopes and fears. And yet, he just can’t shake it.

A sharp yelp from the oven startles Aziraphale out of his thoughts. Crowley’s burned himself on the pan for the garlic bread, like he always does. He watches Crowley move around the kitchen, so steady and self-assured. Falling into domesticity has been so easy, so natural. Almost like breathing. Crowley keeps swaying to the music on his radio, testing noodles and stirring sauce. He stares down the sauce and adds just a pinch more garlic powder to it, before giving it a stir and tasting it. “Angel, I’ve done it again!” He says as he punches the air. They both know he’ll hardly eat any of it, but he relishes being able to do this for Aziraphale

“That’s lovely dearest,” Aziraphale says with his chin still in his hand.

Crowley smiles at him, tossing the towel back over his shoulder as he swaggers over to the table, “what is it, dove, like what you see?”

“You know I always do, darling.” He smiles at Crowley as the demon takes both of his hands.

“Still feeling down, Angel?” Aziraphale just nods at him. “Well that won’t do, c’mon, up you get.” He pulls Aziraphale to his feet before shooting a glare at the radio. The bebop playing cuts out abruptly and switches to a very smooth piano beat.

Crowley winks at him, “dance with me, love?”

“Crowley what on Earth?” Aziraphale rolls his eyes and does his best to suppress the smile attempting to creep across his face, “you know I can only dance the gavotte.”

“No gavotte here, Angel, just swaying in the kitchen.” Crowley guides Aziraphale’s hand to his shoulder before gently placing his own on the small of the angel’s back. He presses their cheeks together and starts to sing along softly with the man on the radio.

“Earth angel, earth angel, will you be mine? My darling dear, love you all the time. I’m just a fool, a fool in love with you.”

They sway back and forth, as far as the tiny kitchen will allow. Aziraphale can feel his nerves and anxieties calming; safe here in his demon’s arms. They sway and they spin, and he giggles as Crowley keeps singing to him.

“Earth angel, earth angel, the one I adore. Love you forever and ever more. I’m just a fool, a fool in love with you.”

“Crowley, dear, you’re such a hopeless romantic sometimes.” Aziraphale places a tender kiss to the little snake tattoo by Crowley’s ear.

“Not hopeless if I got you in the end, Angel,” Crowley says, nuzzling into the angel’s cheek before nuzzling into the angel’s cheek. “I fell for you and I knew the vision of your loveliness.”

Crowley grips his hand tightly before spinning him around and bringing him back even closer.

“I hope and I pray that someday I’ll be the vision of your happiness.”

“Oh my dearest,” Aziraphale says, resting his head on Crowley’s shoulder, breathing deeply, perfectly at peace, “you always have been.” They sway slowly from side to side, not really dancing anymore so much as just existing.

Aziraphale feels the stresses of the day melting away from him, safe and content in Crowley’s arms. Where he was always meant to be. As the song fades out they hold each other close, pasta miraculously fine still sitting on the stove waiting for this moment to end (it wouldn’t dare burn, not when Crowley is in the room). The final notes of the song drift through the air as Aziraphale leans up to whisper into Crowley’s ear, “I’m just a fool, a fool in love with you.”

#my fic #good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #have some domestic fluff for your Tuesday evening reading pleasure

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fluffychubbyrose · 4 years

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Tony Stark x Chubby Self Conscious reader.

One Shot.

Requested.

Warnings- Slight Language, Slight NSFW so slight if you blink you'll miss it, Tony Stark might be more OC than some may like, insecurities, and light bullying.

(Also I don't own any of these pictures I just made the collages.)

Tony decided today instead of staying in the tower and relaxing, maybe having a movie marathon or something that we should go shopping to get me some more clothes since I keep telling him that I only have a few outfits to wear that are comfortable when he asks why I'm wearing the same outfits again and again.

The outfits are mostly my old sweats and sweatshirts along with a couple of baggy dress shirts and dress pants that I feel comfortable lounging around the tower or going out in, because they cover me completely and hide my plushness from the prying and judging eyes of other people.

I've been wearing the same outfits on rotation for the past month or two instead of wearing the new dresses or skirts I said I loved and fit good when he bought them for me, even when they were a bit snugger and showed more skin than I'd like them to. But at the time they seemed like a great idea to get because while they were a bit snug, they were beautiful, soft, and lovely material that highlighted my figure and bust. But lately I haven't been as confident as I was when I first got those outfits and wore them around and out and about.

But now looking at myself in these dresses, skirts, and tight shirts they just show to much of me and dont look right on my body anymore, they show too many of my rolls and plushness. "You need more than a measly few outfits to wear love and you know it. If those clothes we bought didn't fit comfortably you should have just said something and we could have gotten a different style or size for you that would have been more comfortable."

He says with a sigh not budging about going shopping and seemingly pouting that I didn't tell him about the clothes not fitting comfortably until now especially since some of the ones I'm refusing to wear are his personal favorites. "I don't think they have any bigger sizes." I muttered. "Hmm what was that?" "Nothing give me a minute to get ready and we can go." I said heading to our shared bedroom to put some light makeup on, tame my hair, and change out of my sweats.

Once I'm finished I walk out and over hear Tony talking to someone so I stay behind the corner to eavesdrop. "Yeah Y/n and I are planning on going on a quick shopping spree but I'll see if she wants to go to afterwards and meet up with everyone and maybe I can talk her into getting a new bikini while we're out to wear to the beach."

"Okay we'll see you there but don't try to trick her into wearing anything she isn't comfortable with Tony." I think that was Steve he was talking to and said "we'll" see you there so is the whole team going to be there? If it's just us that could be fun but last time the "private" beach we went to was anything but. Luckily I had my one piece on and could cover up with my towel. Tony takes any opportunity and turns it into a party. "Me!?! Trick her! Never!" He said sounding appalled making me giggle and reveal my hiding spot.

Knowing very well that he's always up to something and trying to get me to do all kinds of crazy things from experiments in the lab, to getting me drunk from the expensive alcohols that he loves but I can't really stand the taste of. Knowing I was busted I walked around the corner and kissed Tony on the cheek from behind. "Oh there you are Y/n! Are you ready to go sweetheart?" He asks smirking at me with playful look for catching my eavesdropping. "Yeah I'm ready."

(Small timeskip to the shopping center.)

"Oooh I like this one!" Tony says swinging around showing me a nearly see threw black button up shirt with a plunging neckline. "Tony that's basically see threw I can't wear that!" I said embarrassed cheeks heating up at the thought of anybody seeing me in something like that. "Yes you can, if you only wear it for me!" He says with a cheeky grin. I sigh and continue look it through the rack of clothes in front of me.

Most if not all of these clothes are way to small for me. I sigh and continue down the isle looking for cute but comfy clothes that won't hug my body. Which is proving to be more and more difficult with nothing being in my size, and with Tony only picking out provocative clothing. I'm feeling more discouraged and upset by the minute deciding to give up on finding anything today I turn to tell Tony let's just go to the bathing suit store to pick out a new bathing suit for the "not a party at the beach" he managed to convince me into going to.

Until I see Tony with an armful of clothes that upon further investigation are a bunch of outfits I wanted to get but were way to small for me to wear there must be 20 something outfits in his arms while he's talking to the sales associate. "Hi, yes I need all of these 3-4 sizes bigger." He says dumping the clothes into her arms. Looking closer it looks like he got the biggest ones of each outfit which would only need to be 2-3 sizes bigger to fit me well. "I'm sorry sir but these are as big as we carry and besides these would just be a waste on someone like her if that's who their meant for. I mean no offense but they wouldn't even fit like they were made to on someone of her size." She spat sounding irritated and disgusted not apologetic by any means.

"The way they fit, or look, are up to her to decide. Not you or anyone else and say something like that again and I'll have your job by the end of the hour. So again I would like all of these 3-4 sizes bigger so they are comfortable for my girl over there." He motions to me with his head looking as pissed off as he sounds, and the way he said 'my girl' was very possessive. My eyes widen and my face heats up from embarrassment from what she said and the confrontation in general but I'm touched and happy with how he's defending me.

"And if you don't have any bigger sizes then custom tailor it to fit. If you need her measurements I'll send them to you. Here's my card and I expect to be contacted by the end of the day with all of these resized and ready for pickup." The women looks deathly pale after taking and reading the card realising she just offended Tony Stark. Knowing that his threat to her job moments ago was in fact real and emanate if she didn't comply. Seeing her so petrified makes a part of me smug knowing next time she'll think before she speaks at least.

"Yes! Right away, I'm so sorry sir they will be ready by the end of the day! You can pay for them then. I'll be right back." She squeaks out and runs off with the clothes with her head down and tail tucked between her legs hopefully feeling as embarassed and upset as am from her comments. I wrap my arms around my self with head down now that she's gone I feel tears pricking the edges of my eyes hearing her say that just proved what I've been thinking about myself is true that I'm so big that it's repulsive to be this size, hell I can't even fit into a single thing in this entire store without it being tailored to fit, that should say something.

"Hey don't listen to her sweetheart she's just jealous I'm with you and not her. Everything she said was just a spiteful lie trying to get under your skin." He says lifting my head up and wiping under my eyes where a few silent tears slipped past without me knowing. He kisses me softly and hugs me tucking me under his chin while his hands rub up and down my back. I snuggle closer with my eyes closed holding him tight. "C'mon Y/n let's go pick out that swim suit!" He says sounding excited and let's go of me grabbing my hand and dragging me out of the store and down to the next trying to get my mind off of the rude sales associate.

(Another small time skip where we just arrived at the beach.)

"Hey you guys made it!" Steve runs up in just his swim trunks, hair wet, and sand sticking to him like someone pushed him down onto the sandy shore of the beach just moments before. "Yeah we're just gonna go set up our stuff then we'll join you guys in the water." Tony replies with his arm wrapped around me. Steve smiles and nods then runs off down the beach. I'm not sure about getting into the water looking around there's a lot of strangers here all swarming the infamous Avengers wanting to get pictures with them or of them.

The beach isn't packed but it defiantly isn't as dead as it should be if just the team was here, and I don't want a rerun of what happened earlier especially now that Tony talked me into a bikini after all. Though I picked it out and hid it from his view until I changed into it. When I put it on and it actually fit really well supporting me and being snug but not tight when I wasn't expecting it to fit at all with just how small it looked, I couldn't just put it back and pick out a different one. (It's the bikini in the pic above.)

But thinking about it now I should have picked a much less revealing bikini, but I knew Tony would appreciate the colors if you know what I mean. So I put it on in the changing room and put my clothes back on over it, only taking the price tags up to the cashier so I could pay for it and said I wouldn't let him see it until we got here because I was worried I would loose my nerve and pick out another one piece bathing suit after all. Plus I knew that if I let him see me in it that we would never make it to the beach and would more than likely be banned from the store. So he's been rushing to get here and to get me out of my dress shirt and knee high shorts since I checked out at the store. "Hurry Y/n I can't wait to get into the water!" Tony yells twenty or so feet away and winks at me suggestively, dropping our things onto the sand not bothering to actually set anything up.

"Don't lie Stark you only want to see her in her new bikini! You don't really care about getting in the water!" Natasha yells back at him from a ways down the beach playing volleyball with Wanda and few other people I don't recognize against the boys. Both of them wearing their own bikinis. 'That's probably how Steve got covered in sand.' "How did you know about that?" He yelled back pouting harder than he would willingly admit, because she's seen me in my new bikini but he hasn't been aloud to. Natasha stopped playing and said something to a couple of the people I didn't recognize that were on her team and walked up with Wanda right behind her.

"Oh don't get your panties in a twist Stark she sent me and Wanda a few photos wanting some feed back before deciding which swim suit to get." She grumped at him. "But trust me you'll like what she picked out." Wanda said with a knowing smirk. My face heats up when his gaze locks with mine. "Oh I never doubted that I wouldn't like it. Now come on let's get into the water that's the whole point of going to the beach." He said pulling on my hand. "Fine but I have to take these clothes off and I'm not comfortable just stripping on the beach and you have get changed to."

I say holding my towel close to me nervous about showing so much of myself in front of everyone, especially in front of strangers. Tony not needing me to tell him twice took off to the changing rooms with his swim trunks yelling for me join him. "No way or I won't get to swim today! I'll change and be out in a few." I say while walking towards an empty room. I strip out of my clothes and look at myself in the full length mirror they had in the changing room. Feeling insecure and like this was a very bad idea all of a sudden.

Seeing all of my rolls and stretch marks in plain sight is making me feel ugly and disgusted with my self. I'm about to say hell with it all and put my clothes back on and say I'm feeling sick and that I want to go home even though Tony will know its a lie and will be worried about me, I can't handle this, I'm not ready, this is to much. That's when Tony's voice comes through the door. "Almost done in their my beautiful girl? You aren't going to keep me waiting all day are you? I could just come in there and get you if you'd prefer?" He purrs out but sounds worried.

I hurriedly wrap my towel around myself and unlock the door but I don't make a move to come out. "I'm not sure I can do this Tony. This is a bad idea I wanna go home." I'm hugging myself again degrading and upsetting thoughts are rushing through my head making me so overwhelmed that I don't notice Tony's in the changing room with me until he wraps his arms around me from behind making me jump. "Where's all of this coming from? Is it because of what that lady said earlier because she's wrong, so so wrong baby girl your beautiful in everyway!" I cringe trying not to cry knowing what he's saying is true but I can't help but let what she said and what I've been thinking lately get to me anyways.

I whimper and turn around in his arms letting him hold me again. "I'm sorry I don't know what's going on I've been more and more insecure lately for no real reason. That's why I don't wear those clothes you bought me anymore, they fit but they show to much of everything I hate and I wanted to cover up by wearing my old baggy clothes." I pull back looking up at him. Tony's silent for a moment looking at me with a thoughtful expression. "Well we'll just have to fix that now won't we?" He smiles softly grabbing my hand and leaning towards the door.

"Tony no I really don't want to go out there not like this at least." I say pulling back and looking down. "Like what? Your all covered up by your towel. I cant even see that little swim suit you bought earlier that I've been dying to see since we left the store. I love every single part of your body but if you don't want to go out there we don't have to. We can go home or stay right here in this changing room. Hell I bet if I text Capsicle he'll bring us something eat and drink then we can stay in here all day." I giggled at that imagining a confused and flustered Steve coming to the changing room bringing food and water.

"There's my girl." Tony coo's running his hands up my sides trying to tickle me. "Hey hey, No, Tony, Dont you dare!" I squeaked out jumping back hitting the wall of the changing room realizing I'm trapped my eyes widen and I'm about to yell at him again when he launches at me tickling me and I don't feel my towel falling while trying to squirm away laughing until I feel Tony's bare hands on my hips and he stops tickling me. I look up worried about the sudden stop in his "attack" and his silence until I see the desire in his eyes.

"As much as I absolutely love this." He leans close to my ear his grip tightening on my hips. "I'd love even more to see it off and on the floor." He kissed my neck once he finished. Making me gasp as heat floods my cheeks. He mumbles into my neck. "How about I show you just how beautiful you really are." Pressing his body up against mine nipping the sweet spot on my neck.

Let's just say I never got to go swimming in my new swim suit and Steve got more than just an eyeful when he came to check on us because we forgot to lock the door.

@lilacprincessofrecovery

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relanah-qahs · 4 years

Text

PANIC! AT THE DISCO

Whumptober 2020 no. 18 (posted on day 8) Title: Panic Fandom: Final Fantasy VII Prompt: Panic Attacks | Phobias| Rating: T, Characters: Vincent Valentine, Words: 1341

Tags: panic attacks, paranoia, character backstory

AO3 Link Summary: Ever since he was a child, Vincent has always been sensitive to the energy of death. His father promised him he would always be there for him. But who could save him now that he was a Turk?

εγλ 1974 May 18. 22:14. Junon.

Why did it have to be a morgue? Vincent shivered as he took in his surroundings; the revolting smell of decay mixed with embalming fluid and the frigid air made his skin crawl. He had to focus, this was an easy, yet still important assignment. Just find the target’s autopsy report, replace it with the forged copy, and get the hell out of here. This should have been an easy mission for a member of the Turks, so why couldn’t he just get it over with?

Vincent had always been sensitive to the energy of death, the invisible force of the lifestream that surrounded decomposing corpses, giving him extreme anxiety and terror. It made his job a lot harder; being a part of the professional mercenary organization meant sometimes needing to assassinate a target. It was always excruciating to carry out those sentences, the overwhelming feel of the lifestream’s pull on the dead in sick harmony with the guilt of ending a life--as if he needed to be punished further.

Perhaps it had stemmed from an incident in his childhood. His father was an archeologist, and the Valentine family lived in a small flat above the laboratory which often held artifacts or exhumed skeletons of ancient humans. One evening, when he was about five or six years old, his mother told him to the library to remind his father to finish his work and eat dinner with them. So he playfully skipped downstairs, proud that he could go all by himself this time. The door was unlocked so he let himself into the dark room in which his father was nowhere to be seen. On the examining table in the center of the room were a dozen or so human skulls of some ancient civilization. Vincent called out for his father, his voice shook with fright. The closer he stepped toward them, the more intense was the sensation of death’s energy piercing through his soul.

There came a point where it felt like something was squeezing his chest, knocking out the air in his lungs and making his heart feel like it was about to be crushed. He was cold, his hands shook, and he started screaming and didn’t stop. Vincent didn’t remember what happened after that, his father told him years later. Grimoire had been with his colleagues in his office when he heard the young boy’s screams of terror. He rushed to him, fell to his knees as he tried to get his attention but to no avail. His mother heard it from upstairs and ran as fast as she could to save him. The young Vincent kept screaming and screaming despite his parents’ desperate attempts to calm him down.

His mother yelled at his father demanding to know what happened to which he vehemently insisted he didn’t know. Grimoire carried him upstairs to their room where his mother held him tightly as he continued to shriek in terror. One of the other researchers from the lab phoned a doctor who came to their home and sedated the boy after he had been screaming incessantly for over an hour. The doctor examined him once he fell asleep, but couldn’t find any evidence of physical injury. When Grimoire recounted this to Vincent years later, he said that somehow that was more terrifying to him. At least an injury was an explanation, but his distraught parents were denied one of any kind.

After that, his mother stayed by him nearly every waking moment, never allowing her eyes off him for even a minute. His father refrained from his work for a few days to care for them. Vincent never spoke those days. She cried every night after the boy had fallen asleep, confiding in her husband that she worried their son would never speak again and never understand why this had happened. Grimoire assured her that even if Vincent did lose his ability to speak, they would adjust to it and love him all the same. It was weeks later when the boy could say anything. It was the middle of the night, after his mother had fallen asleep but his father remained studying at his desk. Vincent quietly slipped out of the bed, careful not to wake his mother next to him and went to his father.

“Dad,” he said in almost a whisper. Grimoire was startled but his expression quickly became one of joy when he realized the voice he heard was his son’s.

“Vincent, it’s nice to hear you again.”

“Dad, I wanna be a monster.”

This sudden confession perplexed his father, and Vincent was never really sure why he said such a thing whenever he recollected this conversation. Grimoire hid his worry and confusion of why this would be the first thing the boy would say. “Oh? What kind of monster do you want to be?” he said as he lifted the child onto his lap

“A big scary one. With fur and horns. Big teeth and claws, and maybe a tail too.”

“And why do you want to be such a scary monster?”

“Because monsters don’t have to be afraid of anything if everything else is afraid of them.”

“Well, I’m sorry to tell you that even monsters are afraid sometimes. They have to fear bigger monsters and humans with guns. All creatures on this planet feel fear, and that’s not a bad thing, Vincent. Fear is our mind’s way of keeping us safe, so we know to stay away from danger.”

“If I’m not afraid, I’ll end up like the skeletons in your lab.”

Grimoire was completely taken aback. He paused, carefully considering his words. “Did seeing those skeletons make you feel afraid?” Vincent nodded. “So that’s what happened. I’m so sorry you had to see that and that it scared you so much. But you’re alright now because I am here, and I won’t let anything bad happen to you. Mom is here too. We are always here for you, Vincent. Always.

That was a lie. Anger always consumed him when Vincent replayed that conversation from his memory. His parents couldn’t protect him; his mother had been dead for over a decade and he was estranged from his father who had chosen his research over helping his son.

His only family now were the Turks--the mercenaries who had taken him in and made him a professional criminal. They took him in as a lonely and frightened teenager and trained him to kill and torture without any hint of emotion. They convinced him to trade his soul in exchange for praise and a place to stay--a twisted, psychotic chosen family. Maybe he didn’t need fur and claws after all. He was a monster in human skin.

But the horror of death’s presence never eased its assault on Vincent’s soul. No matter how many corpses he found himself around, he could never ignore the energy of death--a twisted gift from the lifestream. He couldn’t ignore it, but he could force himself to push through it.

Now his hands were shaking. He fought through the panic in his chest as he read and re-read the charts on the doors of the morgue. The pain intensified with each second spent in this place, spreading from his heart and traveling up his spine to his head--throbbing in his temple. Taking a breath was a fight in itself. Finally, he found the poor sap’s autopsy report. His fingers fumbled as he took the paper and replaced it with the forged copy. But it was finished. Time to get the hell out of here.

Vincent hurried out of the room, but taking caution to stay quiet in case some hospital employee was nearby. Fortunately this ward was empty after hours, and his partner Veld was manipulating the security footage now. Every step away from the horrid place, a breath of air refreshed him. The pain in his chest and head faded replacing it with an acute sense of light-headedness.

Vincent wouldn’t be sleeping tonight.

#whumptober 2020 #no.18 #day 8 #panic attacks #paranoia #phobias #final fantasy vii #ffvii #vincent valentine #fic

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thewhumperinwhite · 4 years

Text

Guardian Angel, part 2

Part One

okay just a leetle more before I go to bed <3

@whumpitywhumpwhump

TW for: body horror, reanimated corpse/The Undead (if you need this tagged or know a specific tag for it please let me know), referenced car accident.

----

Getting the dead boy into the backseat of his mother’s car is the most viscerally upsetting five minutes of Karim’s life.

He doesn’t check for a pulse, because he is utterly petrified that he won’t find one, and then he will have killed someone with a car before he even got his driver’s license, and if he knows that to be the case then he will not be able to do anything except sit here in the middle of the darkening highway and cry for the foreseeable future. So he—doesn’t check, yet. He fidgets for a while, deeply not wanting to touch this maybe-dead-but-definitely-very-fucked-up body, but then he squares his shoulders and squats next to the—boy, he thinks feverishly, because if he thinks body he won’t be able to do this—and slides his hand under the boy’s back, eases him up into a sitting position.

He goes easily, moving like (god, jesus) like dead weight, utterly limp, but when Karim gets him upright he sees to his immense relief that the boy’s eyes are clearly moving under his eyelids. It looks weird and creepy in just the glow of the car’s tail-lights, but it does seem to mean that Karim didn’t—succeed in killing him yet. At least not all the way.

Karim hovers, wanting to pick the boy up rather than drag him, but not sure how to go about it.

The boy is wearing a white t-shirt and dark jeans, both torn from where he presumably hit the pavement and slid. This close, Karim can see—several things which make his stomach churn in different ways. The boy's arm and leg are—are, just fucked, honestly, in a way that kind of hurts to look at, especially because it looks—very wrong, with no blood or bruising or anything except colorless torn tissue and twisted bone. Karim can see that his arms are clustered with those weird marks, too, the same as on his throat, and the harsh shadows thrown by the tail lights make them look three dimensional, like dozens of tiny bumps all over him, mostly grouped around—around where his veins should be visible, but aren’t, really.

Karim is supporting the boy’s back while he sits slumped but upright, his chin to his chest; and without thinking he reaches out and touches the boy’s arm, to see what the marks feel like.

He jerks back too hard, accidentally letting the boy flop over backward like a dropped sandbag.

Karim has never touched a dead body, but he knows immediately that this is what it would feel like. The boy’s skin is very dry, and it is also entirely room temperature.

Karim rubs his hand on the leg of his jeans and tries to force his breathing back under control. He looks down at the dead boy half-sprawled out on his back on the asphalt, and remembers at the sight of his face that he’s not much older than Karim is himself, and Karim hit him with a car, and he screws up his courage and hefts the boy into his arms, princess-carry style.

It is immediately clear that this is a mistake. Karim is still waiting on his big growth spurt, and the boy is apparently the height of a grown man, and though he’s maybe a little lighter than one, he does feel a little lighter than seems quite right, Karim still stumbles sideways under his weight, just managing to catch himself against the side of the car; he feels the boy’s broken arm shift and the body in his arms twitches, terribly, with a quiet trapped-animal whine.

Karim stops, leaning against the car, to catch his breath, and the dead boy goes still again, which is—better, except for the part where it feels a lot more like holding a corpse.

Karim grits his teeth and drags himself around the side of the car, pulls the door handle with his foot in a fit of desperate dexterity, and stumbles into the backseat. It’s a big car, his mom’s been using it to carpool since he and Selina were in middle school, so there’s room for him to flounder around in the backseat while still laying the dead boy out along it with at least some level of care.

Stretched out on the back seat of Farah Mun’s Lexus, the boy looks so entirely like a corpse that when he blinks his cloudy eyes open, Karim jerks back in surprise and hits his head kind of hard on the roof of the car.

“Oh thank god,” he mutters, massaging his head. “Oh thank god, I thought maybe I actually killed you.”

The dead boy huffs tired breathy laughter, reaching up to touch the place on his forehead that cracked open on the windshield. “Yeah, sorry,” he croaks, sounding exhausted—sounding much worse, actually, than when Karim first hit him. “I don’t do that on purpose very often. Think maybe I pulled something. Ha.” He flails his mangled arm a little, like he’s trying to make a joke; his smile tightens like it hurts a little but not nearly as much as it should.

“What—are you?” Karim asks, because he physically can’t hold it in anymore.

The boy’s smile fades, and he shifts awkwardly. They are squashed very close together with him on the back seat and Karim hovering over him; at the memory of the cold unnaturalness of the boy’s skin Karim gives him some space by clambering backwards over the console and into the front seat, craning around the passenger seatback to stare at the dead boy, who has shifted up into a half-sitting position.

“It’d be super cool if we could get this fixed up before we have this conversation,” the boy says, gesturing at his mangled limbs without much hope.

Karim bites his lip, and slowly shakes his head. “I don’t think—I don’t think we’re going anywhere until you tell me who you are.” He swallows, hard. “And how you know my name.”

The boy sags back against the car seat, looking up at the roof with a sigh. “Yeah. Yeah, okay, I get that. Um.”

The dead boy screws his eyes shut, like he’s getting ready to take a leap he doesn’t think will land well.

“I’m from the future,” the boy says.

Karim stares at him. Waits for more. “You what?” he says helplessly when more doesn’t seem to be coming.

The dead boy cracks one eye open to gauge his reaction. At that point the overhead light that went on when Karim opened the car door clicks off, plunging the car into near-complete darkness. Karim lets it stay that way, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against the car seat headrest.

“I recognize that this is a ridiculous thing to claim,” the dead boy says.

“Yeah,” Karim says tiredly. “Yeah, it is.” He waits. The boy doesn’t go on. “When in the future?”

“2020. Fucking cesspool of a year.”

Karim laughs, a little hysterically. “Oh, are you gonna, like, am I John Conner? Am I supposed to, um, are you gonna say ‘come with me if you want to live,’ cause I think it’s actually a little late for that considering you can’t walk.”

The dead boy, astonishingly, laughs too, sounding embarrassed more than anything else. His voice, apparently recovering from—from whatever happened out on the asphalt that blew it out—sounds too normal; Karim reaches up and clicks the light back on, so he won’t forget he’s talking to a corpse.

“Am I supposed to believe that you can survive getting wrecked by a car because you’re a time traveler?” he demands, almost yelling now. “What, are people car proof by 2020, is that what you’re saying?”

“Oh.” The boy looks away, awkwardly. “That’s actually, um— unrelated. That’s just because I’m dead.”

Karim stares at him.

Because regardless of how many times Karim has thought of him as “the dead boy,” it is patently ridiculous for someone to tell you they are dead, because— because they’re telling you!

“No you’re not,” Karim says hotly, and his eyes are burning for some reason, because he’s so scared that he’s angry and so angry that he’s crying, now, apparently. “No you’re not, you’re some kind of— you’ve got some kind of weird disease, or something—”

The boy sits up a little straighter, and looks at Karim with— the softest expression Karim thinks he’s ever seen. He reaches out, slowly, to where Karim’s hand is white knuckled on the center console, and wraps his lukewarm hand around Karim’s wrist. Then he guides Karim’s hand up to the pulse point under his chin, never breaking eye contact. His expression is, if anything, apologetic.

The second Karim touches the marks on the boy’s throat he knows that they’re scars. And he doesn’t feel a pulse.

He stares at the dead boy in the back seat, feeling fear wrap pins and needles around the back of his neck.

“Sorry, dear,” the dead boy says softly. “I’m pretty sure this is the easy part.”

#whump #original whump #car accident #undead whump #guardian angel au #body horror #corpse tw #undead tw

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grimmseye · 4 years

Text

A Bird in the Hand: Chapter Two

Read on Ao3 here!

Rating: T

Fandom: Critical Role

Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf/Essek Thelyss, Mollymauk Tealeaf/Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast (eventual)

Chapter Characters: Mollymauk Tealeaf, Essek Thelyss

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Molly Rez, Amnesiac Mollymauk, Oh My God They Were Roommates, Nonsexual Nudity, Hair Brushing

---------

The chalk in his hand dragged smooth over the ground, leaving shimmering lines and rounds just above the surface they were marked against. Fifty gold pieces and a fifth level slot was entirely too much to make a trip home from within the city, but Mollymauk was in no condition to be walking there and Essek did not want to hire someone to take them.

The last line connected, the circle broke into solid, glowing violet. Essek stood and took Mollymauk by the wrist to pull him through. There was a sensation of dropping, falling forward and then being suddenly upright again and in another space, on the wooden floor of the small room he’d designated to his teleportation circle.

Molly staggered at his side, bracing one hand against the wall. “A little warning next time,” he breathed, shaking his head.

“My apologies,” Essek said, without remorse. “It can take some getting used to, if you haven’t done it before.”

Mollymauk only grumbled, taking a moment to catch his balance and his breath. Essek opened the door that lead out to a sitting room, designed for playing host to the formal gatherings his position sometimes sprang upon him. It connected from there to a dining room, and then a rarely-used kitchen. The dishes from Caduceus’ cooking remained, and abruptly Essek felt a warmth touch his cheeks. He was never messy, not where it could be seen, and yet Mollymauk’s first impression of him would be slobbish if the tiefling were to take just ten paces into the next room and peer through the entryway.

“You need a bedroom,” he declared, half a realization, half a distraction. Then he repeated, quieter, “You need a bedroom,” with all the weight such a statement carried.

He had bedrooms. They had never been used, but caution kept him prepared. Should he ever need to play host overnight, best to have something already in place rather than be caught off guard. Essek had not been off guard since he was a child learning his first spell.

Caught in his musings, Essek blinked and found Mollymauk startlingly close and staring up into his face. He drifted back on instinct, schooling his face into an affronted scowl. “Yes?” He said, pointed.

“Nothing,” Molly replied, eyebrows lifting. “You were just staring for a few seconds there, I was worried something came loose up top.” He tapped the side of his head twice and grinned. “So lemme ask you this, friend: how much of a guest versus a prisoner am I here?”

“You are not a prisoner,” Essek said, which wasn’t quite truthful. “For the time being, we want you under escort should you be outside of my property. This is standard procedure for released prisoners, even if I am vouching for you. It has the additional benefit of ensuring you won’t get lost.”

“Uh-huh,” Mollymauk nodded, his blasé tone of voice vexatious at best. “Lots of pretty words that translate to me still being a prisoner. I got that already, you don’t need to explain it again. I’m referring to my position within your property.” He paused, and then gave a slow smile that Essek couldn’t quite translate. “Am I your property?”

The meaning clicked into place. Essek’s ears folded back as he fought the urge to recoil. That look implied scandal, but mischief danced behind the eyes. Mollymauk was fucking with him.

He had certainly been a member of the Nein.

“No,” he said, his voice short and final. “You are free to explore anything within this house. There are towers outside which are designated to my own business, but you would be unable to enter them even if you should try. Please clean up any messes you make, and feel free to ask me any questions you may have.”

“Fantastic. So, first request: could I get a hairbrush?” Molly ran his fingers through his hair — or attempted to, at least. It was nearly matted. “I did end up losing mine on my way here, and then got arrested before I could purchase a new one.”

“Of course,” Essek nodded. After a beat, he realized he needed to show Mollymauk the way. “There is a guest bedroom — this way, upstairs — with a shower as well if you’d like to wash up.”

“Oh I would.”

“And I can clean whatever clothes you brought with you.”

“Excellent. I’ve only got two pairs. I’ll just leave this one outside the door then?” Molly motioned to himself. He wore traveler’s clothes, but even such sturdy material was wearing thin. Essek frowned, thinking of the other set he’d found, colorful and audacious and faring far worse. He would need new clothes, then. He would be needing many things.

That was what Essek pondered as he waited outside the bathroom door, until it cracked open for Molly to set his badly folded clothes out in the hall. He conjured an invisible servant to take care of the washing, and then immediately moved for the study to find a pen and a pad of paper.

Shopping List (Guest):

New clothes for Mollymauk

Make appointment

Ensure: warm/winter, rain, fine, sleep, and casual wear. Multiple pairs of shoes (hooves? Check this)

Groceries

Breakfasts:

Essek immediately paused. He could cook. He often chose not to. He certainly didn’t cook for other people.

Groceries — determine later

Luxuries? Ask Mollymauk his preferences.

Extra bedsets (2?)

He was going to be housing Mollymauk for the foreseeable future. He was going to have a full-time guest until the Nein returned, and last they left Xhorhas, they vanished without a trace for into a device named the Happy Fun Ball Slash The Archmage Bane and returned with their formerly-brainwashed friend. Essek was learning to expect the unexpected with that odd group.

Needless to say, he could not rely on an expedient return. So. A guest. Essek would need to entertain him. Ensure he was taken care of, and staying out of trouble. He would likely have to put aside his work to babysit this tiefling, who allegedly had amnesia and did not even know who the Nein truly were.

He didn’t realize he was wringing his hands until he felt the bite of his own nails. Essek took a breath. He could do this. He’d worn a facade since childhood, he could keep it up, full-time, in his own home, without breaks, indefinitely. Essek bowed his head and considered breaking into the fine wines.

The spiral was interrupted by the sound of clicking steps. Hooves, Mollymauk had hooves. Not all tieflings did.

Mollymauk was also naked in the doorway.

“How do you turn on the shower,” he asked, as Essek nearly threw his pen in his haste to turn away. He braced his elbow against the desk, a hand swinging up to shield his peripheral vision.

“You’re naked,” he stated, with false cheer.

Mollymauk clicked his tongue. “There weren’t any towels either.”

Essek very nearly slammed his head down into the desk. He stood up, unclasping his mantle in a rush and shifting towards Mollymauk to hold out the garment, waiting until he was certain through the corner of his eye that the tiefling was covered up to look at him. A dangerously polite smile was affixed to his face. “I will show you how to work the shower,” he said, ever helpful, ever calm.

“It’s appreciated.” Molly trotted back down the hall, somehow perfectly unbothered that Essek had seen exactly how far those tattoos reached. His ears flickered madly with the tiefling’s gaze off of him, trying to bat the embarrassed heat away.

It was a little gratifying when Molly nearly tripped on the length of his mantle.

Essek wrestled himself back into composure before he moved ahead, showing Mollymauk the individual crystals embedded in his shower wall and how they worked. “The large gemstone in the center here turns it on. Press it once for the faucet,” he demonstrated, a stream of water pouring out from the lower faucet at his touch. “And again for the shower. The one beneath it turns the water off. Here, this crystal is for temperature —”

It was all relatively simple. The crystal turned in place, its color flowing through a gradient of blue to purple to red depending on the water’s temperature. Even with the simplicity of the system, he was pleased to turn around and find Mollymauk wide-eyed and beaming up at him, tail curling with excitement.

“I could kiss you,” he declared. “You, sir, have just given me the greatest of gifts. I mean, there’s room for improvement. If you happen to have something more in the line of a spa, please let me know what I need to do to get that, but this? This will do just fine!”

Essek did, in fact, have something akin to a spa, but it was connected to his bedroom, and he was not about to offer up that space. “I am pleased that it’s to your liking,” he smiled. Then, serious again, “Please just leave my clothes outside the door, after I have left. I will bring a towel and a robe for you. Before I leave, is there anything else?”

Mollymauk poked his head into the shower with a hum. “Soap, shampoo, conditioner, check check and check. I am golden, my friend. You’re free to go.”

Thank the Luxon, Essek didn’t say, only dipping his head to drift back out of the bathroom. He stalled his servant from its task to bring a towel and robe up, returning to his study. Once he tackled a grocery list, he could hire someone to collect it all for him.

Essek found his statuette of an ivory raven, running a finger down its beak to bring it into flesh and feathers. It stood, attentive as he cleared his throat and dictated: “Seamstress Brirr, this is Shadowhand Essek Thelyss. I need to commission a full wardrobe for a guest, a tiefling. Do you have a slot tomorrow?”

Once the message was given and the recipient described, the bird took wing through a window and out into the city.

Down the hall, Essek heard the pattering of water stop. The door opened some minutes later, the sound of hooves announcing Molly wherever he went. At least Essek knew he could find him.

There was a short knock at the doorway. Essek turned, not without trepidation, and nearly sagged with relief to find Mollymauk wrapped in his robe, hair bound in a towel. “That was wonderful,” Mollymauk sighed, leaning against the frame. “I would have stayed longer but my hair is unforgivable.”

“A hairbrush,” Essek remembered, nodding. “Of course, let me get that for you. Just, ah, make yourself comfortable.” He’d evidently forgotten to stock the guest chambers properly. Embarrassment seized him again, something he tried to shake off with the reminder that at least it wasn’t Kryn nobility he was scorning. It could be far worse.

When he returned from his own quarters, Mollymauk had indeed made himself quite comfortable. He was sprawled in one of the armchairs, his robe falling open around the scarred chest, modesty protected by the tie that bound it shut. Molly’s eyes flicked up to him from where he’d been idly examining the bookcase, and he sat up with a grin. “Excellent, thank you,” he said, lifting both arms to curl his fingers in a way that said gimme.

Did Essek catch a wince, there? He frowned, noting that along with the scars there were fresh bruises on Mollymauk’s chest, creeping under the sleeve of his robe. As Molly began to pull his hair over one shoulder, there was a definite tension that pulled into his shoulders. His tail lay perfectly still, betraying nothing — and its quiet said far more about Mollymauk’s current state than if it had been lashing.

“You’re staring again,” Molly pointed out lightly. This time, Essek didn’t back down.

“You’re hurt,” he returned.

Molly widened his eyes in mock surprise, mouth opening as he breathed, “No, really?” He smirked at Essek’s flat expression. “Your friends were a bit rough with me. It wasn’t like they just frogmarched me to your prison, no, they had to get a good beating in first. Your little trick in the cell certainly didn’t help.” He snorted.

Essek’s ears folded down. He grimaced to himself, a pang of not guilt so much as regret needling at him. The Nein would not be happy with him. As much as they seemed willing to beat each other up, the moment another person laid a hand on them they were staring down a pack of snarling Moorbounders.

On an impulse, maybe pity, maybe a distant hope that Molly just won’t tell, Essek extended a hand. Molly furrowed his brow, slowly offering the hairbrush. With then, Essek dragged a footrest over with a beckoning motion, patting it and saying, “Sit here. Back to the chair, please.”

“You mind explaining?” Molly asked, but did as he was told. Essek took the seat he’d just occupied, frowning at the mess of hair. He’d once worn his own long, when he was younger. It had just been a very long time since he’d had to do more than tidy it upon waking.

Essek scooped a section of hair to his back again, holding it as he began to work the brush through the tips. Molly’s tail flicked, sitting up straight for a moment before the tension loosed from his shoulders. “Oh so you do know how to treat a guest right,” he purred.

“Was I treating you wrong before?” Essek demanded. He got to the first matted section, glad that Molly had wet his hair before this as he began to tease it apart with quick motions of the brush. “For the sake of my sanity, let’s judge my service as a host only from the point where you entered the property.”

“Wise decision,” Molly drawled. “... Mmmm, but for the most part I was only fucking with you. And believe me, with this all previous criticisms have been rescinded.”

“I would still like to know the criticisms,” Essek muttered, and only got a breathy laugh in response.

It was slow going, working through each mass of tangles without ripping his hair. It needed to be trimmed as well, uneven and broken at the tips. A shower had done him well, but a single wash hadn’t been enough to undo neglecting it for so long, oil still streaking the roots of his hair as Essek ran the brush through them. Mollymauk tipped his head into it, an angle were Essek could see his face, eyes shut and lips parted.

“Do you prefer your hair loose?” Essek asked, setting the brush down. He took up his notepad again, adding haircut to the list.

Mollymauk hummed as he ran his fingers through it. “I think so. Let’s try it. Where’s the rest of my stuff, by the way?”

As Essek halted his servant’s work again to bring Molly’s belongings up, he laid out tomorrow’s itinerary. The raven returned, delivering Brirr’s response. They would get Mollymauk’s measurements taken care of, purchase some sets of casual clothing until the new outfits were finished, visit a place to get Mollymauk a haircut.

The bag was brought up partway through the conversation. Molly frowned, his hands pausing as he dug through it. Tarnished jewelry, a pouch of incense, a brooch depicting a draconic god. He produced a rusted metal helmet that made Essek blurt out, “Why do you have that?” and Molly tip his head back, shrug his shoulders, and say, “I have no fucking idea.”

His snickering nearly made Essek join in, smiling faintly at this… bemusing creature. He knew very little of this person from the Nein’s brief allusions to him. Assuming he was even the same person, memories of his companions gone but still understanding facts of the world. Had Mollymauk Tealeaf been this to them, someone who could make you bristle as easily as laugh, a disarming union between sincerity and utter bullshit.

He was frowning, now, staring at the emptied bag and all the little trinkets he’d removed from it. Essek cleared his throat, asked, “Is something missing?”

“My scimitars,” Mollymauk said, immediately. Tiefling ears weren’t as expressive as elven, but they flexed backwards in a familiar manner. “I was buried with two scimitars, I had them when I was arrested, and now I don’t have them.” His tail curled and then lashed to the other side of his body, the spaded tip brandished like a knife.

Essek made a private note: inquire about Mollymauk apparently waking up in his grave. He was beginning to understand now why the Nein connected talk of the Beacons to this person.

“What if we do this,” he started, weighing his chin on his fist. “I will drop you off at a local spa tomorrow, and while you get cleaned up, I can return to the Shadowspire to reclaim your weapons.” And examine them for any odd enchantments.

Molly turned his head back, an odd sort of smile on his face. “That will do,” he said, simply. Then he rose to his feet, stretching, and turned to fully face Essek. “Now then. Why don’t you show me to my bedroom, good sir. You would think after waking in the dirt I’d be done with sleeping.”

“A bed is superior to a grave, I would think,” Essek murmured, standing with him. “Not that I have the experience to compare.”

Mollymauk barked out a laugh. Essek showed him to one of the spare bedrooms, promising to have his clothes clean and dry by morning. As he was turning to move back down the corridor, hoping to get some work done before settling down for his own meditation, he was stopped by a touch to his arm.

Essek shifted away from it, finding Mollymauk’s hand outstretched. He was still smiling, a softer thing now that it was weighed with exhaustion. “Thank you,” Molly said, emphasizing each word. Then he shut the door.

Essek stared at it for a long moment before nodding to himself. He drew a deep breath, moving down the hallway and outside, towards his laboratory. As much as Caleb and Nott assured him the mishap had been a result of a curse, Essek wasn’t satisfied. Perhaps he could find a way to make the spell dig deeper.

And perhaps he could take a breath and prepare himself for his next day playing host to Mollymauk Tealeaf.

#Mollymauk Tealeaf #essek thelyss #shadowmauk #widomauk #shadowgast #shadowwidowmauk #calebessekmollymauk #they need a ship name folks #cr #cr2 #cr fic #my writing #mollymauk #essek

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the-odd-job · 4 years

Text

So... What if Megatron really was captive at the same time as Sideswipe, and they met?

I was told it’s good to be self-indulgent sometimes (like I’m not that way all the time), so enjoy. The what if.

Misery Breaking

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Graphic Depictions of Violence Category: Other Fandom: Transformers > Merformers Characters: Megatron, Sideswipe Relationships: Megatron/Sideswipe Additional Tags: Captive Mers, First Meetings, Violent Sex, Sex Related Injury, Physical Abuse, Sexual Abuse Words: 2877

Sideswipe has a new tankmate. He really wishes he didn’t.

The first thing he noticed about the new mer was his size. He was easily twice Sideswipe’s own mass, maybe more.

The next thing he noticed was that the humans seemed scared of him. They brought him in, drugged out of his mind by the looks of things, and left the scene as soon as they could. The door closed behind them, and soon after Sideswipe could see them crowding behind the one glass wall of the tank.

Caution and curiosity warred. This was another mer, so... Curiosity, because it was a member of his own species and he dearly, dearly wished for more of those. The solitude they’d forced upon him wasn’t as beneficial as the humans seemed to think it was.

But caution, because it was a stranger, one significantly larger and stronger than him.

Sideswipe hung back while he waited for the beached mer to come back to his senses, occasionally popping his head above the surface to view the ledge they’d left him laying on. Based on the time it took for the other to resurface from his haze, Sideswipe guessed they had been generous with the sedative.

Because they weren’t sure how much a mer that size needed, or because of something else? He didn’t know, but he hoped the stranger’s scales wouldn’t dry out too badly before he was well enough to slip into the water.

It took about an hour, but eventually, finally, the stranger began to rouse. It was small things first, a twitch of fingers or a tail, or fluttering eyelids. Sideswipe followed the process carefully. Little signs turned into bigger signs until the stranger was trying to push himself upright, arms shaking from the aftereffects of the sedative.

But after that it was only minutes before he managed to drag himself off the ledge and dove headfirst into the water.

Sideswipe put as much distance between them as the tank allowed him to as the big mer sank to the bottom to wear off the rest of the drugs. He looked a lot less out of it than Sideswipe had expected, though. The red eyes were sharp when they roamed the tank, eventually landing on Sideswipe.

And Sideswipe had never quite felt as much like prey as he did then.

But the eyes moved on from him without paying him too much mind. That was... Probably a good thing. For some reason he didn’t want to be the center of the stranger’s attention.

Something just... Made his skin crawl.

Sideswipe swam a small circle in the farthest reach of the tank as he waited for the other to get his body back under his control. It didn’t take too long, after that. Before Sideswipe knew it, the stranger had started to swim, a little carefully at first, before he came to trust that all of his extremities were cooperating. Sideswipe knew that feeling.

He had to admire the other mer, though. His shades of grey weren’t exactly eyecatching, but his size sure was. His strength was obvious in every ripple of his muscles, every sway of his tail. And those eyes. He still didn’t pay Sideswipe much mind, but every time that gaze came his way, Sideswipe got that feeling again. Like it was in his best interest to play very, very nice with this one.

Danger.

And he couldn’t exactly run away from it.

So he continued to keep his distance as the other started to circle the tank, attentive to every corner of it. Exploring, not that there was a lot to explore, or a way out, if that was what he was looking for. The humans kept observing, though Sideswipe wasn’t sure what they wanted to see.

And when nothing happened for the longest time, aside from the big mer swimming around and Sideswipe avoiding him to the best of his ability, the humans’ numbers started to thin. It was late into the day anyway, many of them were probably leaving for the night.

When there were only two left, Sideswipe decided to risk it and introduce himself to the other mer. Chances were they’d be stuck with each other for quite a while, so the best he could do was hope for cordial relations. That decision made, Sideswipe narrowed the distance between them, but only so much that he wasn’t even by accident intruding on the other’s personal space. He knew how big those bubbles could be from his brother. “Um, hi,” he started, and suppressed the wince when the red eyes snapped to him.

Why did this feel like such a bad idea? “I’m Sideswipe. It’s... Nice to meet you?”

Not one twitch of expression from the other. Sideswipe resisted the urge to fidget as he waited for something.

What he got was a calculating look that roamed over his entire body, and it was the absolute worst feeling to be on the receiving end of it.

He couldn’t stop himself from fidgeting.

“Megatron,” the other mer eventually said. His voice was deep and gravelly, making it feel as if the water was vibrating all around him. Very pleasant, honestly.

It was also disinterested. Sideswipe felt some relief at that.

And that was the end of their conversation, apparently. Megatron shifted his attention away and continued swimming and circling the tank, leaving Sideswipe a little confused in the middle of it.

They were supposed to be a social species. Granted, Sideswipe’s experience with other mers that weren’t his brother was exceedingly limited, but even so he wasn’t prepared to be dismissed so thoroughly.

He couldn’t help but feel it was still the best outcome, though. And he should... Probably respect the other’s indifference. He couldn’t see anything good coming out of an attempt to push the matter.

But he felt a little awkward. They were stuck together and apparently were just going to ignore each other, even though they could barely even leave each other’s field of view.

If that’s what Megatron wanted, though... Sideswipe went back to giving the other mer all the space he could, watching as the last of the humans left. The lights started to slowly sim, signaling that nighttime was indeed approaching.

But Megatron wouldn’t stop swimming, and neither did Sideswipe dare to stop in fear of getting in his way, or otherwise turning up too close to him.

It was dark aside from the small nightlights when Megatron finally deigned to acknowledge his presence. “Sideswipe, hm?”

The mer in question jumped at the sudden words, turning around to face the approaching giant. “Yeah?” he asked a little uncertainly, terribly skeptical he wanted the attention. There was an edge to that voice he didn’t like one bit. Megatron kept approaching, and without trying to be too obvious about it, Sideswipe kept retreating just enough to keep a safe distance between them.

“How long have you been here?” Harmless questions, right? Maybe Megatron was just genuinely curious and had changed his mind about obviously not wanting to make friends.

Why did Sideswipe have the feeling that wasn’t the case?

“Since before I was a yearling,” he nevertheless answered honestly, and the subtle widening of Megatron’s eyes did seem sincere.

“You’ve never been out of this tank after that?”

“Never.”

Megatron kept coming closer and the disquiet Sideswipe felt kept growing larger. “How sad,” said the grey mer, and slowly Sideswipe came to the realization that he was being herded against one wall of the tank. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed it was the one leading to the ledge, which meant he had one direction to escape to if it came down to it.

Leaving the water didn’t particularly appeal to him, but neither did staying there with Megatron.

“Yeah, well, sometimes it be like that.” Sideswipe went for casual with a rueful grin, trying to diffuse the situation. Things were quickly growing tense. Mostly from his end; Megatron seemed perfectly relaxed if it wasn’t for the twitching of his tail. Sideswipe could recognize that gesture easily, having been guilty of it more than once himself.

Frustration.

Frustration was bad. Sunstreaker flew into rages because of it.

He didn’t want to find out how it affected Megatron.

“You’ve never wanted to get out?” Megatron asked. So innocuous still, but Sideswipe’s back hit the tiled wall.

And he really didn’t think Megatron would just let him swim away. He had the reach to stop him, being so much bigger.

Sideswipe’s heart began hammering and the dread grew almost unbearable. This had to be bad. There was no way it was good. Those piercing eyes had pinned him down, their focus unwavering.

“There’s no way out,” he whispered, and he was sure the both of them knew it wasn’t just referring to leaving the aquarium anymore.

Megatron’s face split into a fanged grin a second before he growled, “Come here.”

Sideswipe took that as his cue and turned around to pull himself onto the ledge and away from the danger he now deemed certain.

Before he was halfway out of the water he felt a big hand wrapping around his tail, sharp claws sinking into his flesh before he was yanked back underwater. “Didn’t I say come here?” Megatron snarled over his pained cry, grabbing his arm and pulling him against an intensely muscular chest.

Under different circumstances Sideswipe was pretty sure that might’ve been titillating. Right now it was only terrifying.

“Let go of me,” he growled right back, fighting against the grip on his arm.

But it only tightened until it was a bruising vice. The ease with which Megatron kept him still was frightening and Sideswipe felt his heart hammer a mile a minute, so prepared to run away.

Except there was no escaping the claws that dug into his aft and pulled his lower body against Megatron’s.

And that was about when Sideswipe guessed exactly where this was going. He began to struggle in earnest, but his own strength was pitiful in comparison to Megatron’s. The claws only dug deeper, the grip on his arm only firmed. “Let go of me!” Sideswipe repeated shrilly, this time this side of desperate.

Megatron had the audacity to laugh at him. “No, I don’t think I will,” he rumbled, a grin showcasing rows of sharp teeth.

Sideswipe let himself panic a little when he felt something nudge up against his stomach. A brief glance down confirmed it was indeed Megatron’s member, and Sideswipe couldn’t withhold his sob at the size of it. Megatron was proportional.

And Sideswipe knew he wouldn’t make it out of this in one piece if Megatron got his way. He showed no interest in Sideswipe’s comfort.

He writhed in Megatron’s hold, forcibly ignoring the pain from the larger mer’s claws and the red that was beginning to saturate the water around them. His struggles were good for nothing, though, Megatron was far too strong and determined. He didn’t seem to even feel the rending from Sideswipe’s own claws, his best attempts at finding sensitive areas he could attack.

He switched to begging.

“Please please please don’t, I’ll do anything, just don’t-!”

Sideswipe’s words broke into a scream when Megatron lifted him enough to nudge against his opening and sunk in as deep as he would go without any preamble. His slit burned with the searing sting of a too sudden, too large penetration, and a gush of red escaped into the water around them.

But that was nothing compared to the pain deep inside, where Megatron violently rammed into his cervix.

And he wasn’t even all the way inside.

Megatron growled in frustration at that fact while Sideswipe was still too dazed to even try to do anything about it, and before he knew it, Megatron had pulled him back only to shove himself deep all over again.

He’d never hurt so much. He couldn’t find his voice, silently gasping when Megatron moved both of his hands onto his hips and began fragging him in earnest, pulling halfway out only to drive himself back in with no heed for the amount of pain he was causing.

It was beyond him to even try to fight the big mer anymore, and Sideswipe merely grasped onto the arms holding him, hanging on for dear life. Megatron didn’t react any more than he had before when Sideswipe’s claws dug into the grey skin; it sure as pit didn’t dissuade him one bit.

“Yes,” Megatron hissed lowly, one of his hands leaving Sideswipe’s lacerated hips. He had a delirious moment to think where it might’ve gone before it wrapped around his neck, tilting his neck back and blocking his gills in the area. “Look at me.”

He wasn’t sure when he’d closed his eyes, but out of fear of further retaliation Sideswipe obeyed, meeting a hungry red gaze. “I was alone for too long. It was very kind of them to give me such a pretty plaything.”

It was half a laugh and half a sob that broke past the hold on his neck. He knew he was attractive, him and Sunstreaker both were.

If he wasn’t, would this have happened?

Megatron’s grip tightened when the massive mer’s eyes closed and he focused on ravaging Sideswipe’s body. Sideswipe did his best to ride it out; there was little more he could do.

He wasn’t doing a very good job of it. Red was streaming from his slit, barely hindered by Megatron’s breadth, and the pain kept growing like he didn’t think was even possible.

Then Megatron struck in one more time, only to stiffen and tighten his hold on him so much Sideswipe wasn’t sure his head wouldn’t be cut from his shoulders. He grit his teeth together when he felt with agonizing clarity something shoot into his depths, scorching along the abraded lining of his channel.

He could smell blood everywhere. That was really the only thing he could smell anymore, the water red all around them.

Sideswipe was half surprised he was still alive, and even more surprised he was still conscious. His internals throbbed when Megatron pulled out and Sideswipe sagged in his hold, relief washing over him.

It was over. He was hurting like he hadn’t thought was possible, but he was alive.

Then Megatron laughed. “Oh, I’m not done yet, little one.” Sideswipe’s eyes snapped back open, wide as saucers as he stared at the bigger mech, who was once again grinning at him. “Please,” Sideswipe begged quietly, his voice raspy from the grip Megatron had on his throat.

“Begging for more? My, aren’t you a brave one,” the grey mer laughed. Despair kept Sideswipe from trying to correct him, not that he thought for a moment Megatron had mistook his plea for anything other than what it was.

One hand remained on his neck, the other moved to his side, and then Megatron swam them both to the bottom where he pinned Sideswipe against the floor. Sideswipe struggled weakly, but he hurt far too much to be any kind of opposition to the larger mer. Megatron purred at him, passing his gaze over his supine body as if he was admiring his handiwork---bleeding wounds, bruises that were slowly discoloring his skin, and a gaping, bleeding slit.

Sideswipe wanted to cry, but even that seemed beyond him.

Megatron shoved back inside and Sideswipe’s mouth opened in a silent cry when the agony began all over again, his body shaking from the pain as Megatron started to drive himself in and out. Against the bottom of the tank it felt even worse when his body was pushed to the unyielding floor with every thrust. The angle of Megatron’s penetration was even worse than before, hitting an all new locale of pain that made his ears ring, deafening him and trapping him inside a body being torn apart from the inside out.

There was so much red.

He barely twitched this time when he felt another hot burst of Megatron’s spill, fighting against the black creeping up on the corners of his eyes and debating if it wouldn’t be better to just give in anyway.

But he didn’t want to know what Megatron would do to his body if he lost consciousness.

He wasn’t sure he’d even wake up again.

Megatron pulled out and Sideswipe directed his hazy gaze to watch the other mer swim away oh so casually, as if nothing had happened.

As if he hadn’t done anything.

So. That’s why he’d had a bad feeling from the start.

He wanted to laugh, but his mind was far too numb.

Sideswipe fought back his cries when he pushed his upper body upright and slowly dragged himself to the nearest wall of the tank. He curled up against it, wrapping his arms around his middle, as if that would ease the pain at all. Red continued to gush from his slit, and for the first time in his life Sideswipe wished for the humans.

But there were none around, this time of the night. They’d come in the morning, though. They’d come.

He just wasn’t sure he had that long.

“Sunstreaker, I’m so sorry,” Sideswipe whispered to himself before he finally gave in to the pain and desperation and let the black overwhelm him.

#merformers #sideswipe #megatron #megaswipe #very unhappy megaswipe #heed the warnings #seriously #fic #2020 #captive mers

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