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saltwater-and-woodsmoke · 2 years

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Twenty Six Letters || JJ Maybank

Warnings and authors note: This is sad, like so sad, my friends say it rips their hearts out. I’m sorry. Title credit to black butterflies and deja vu by the maine (the lyric is “there’s only twenty six letters I can use just to tell you I won’t let go”)

This specific story is an alternate ending to another fic I wrote, but I haven’t got that one transferred here yet, I am in the process of moving all of my works to this blog from my main.

Word Count: 2,350

July 17

Y/N,

The doctors came out and told me they tried everything, but they couldn’t save you. They’re transferring Charlie to the mainland where they have a NICU, they’re life lining her. The amount of police that had to hold me back from hurting that doctor, I’m embarrassed. This was supposed to be our dream, our family. I needed to write my thoughts down, I know you can’t read this, it’s ridiculous. I can’t lose both of you. I love you so much.

July 19

Y/N,

Charlie weighs a whopping 1 pound, 2 ounces. She’s the tiniest thing I have ever laid eyes on. I’m staying on the mainland until she gets to come home, thanks to the community, really. Sarah started a fundraiser for Charlie’s medical care, your funeral, and the community really showed their support. No word on who did this to you, but I will find out. Charlotte Rose Maybank is a fighter, just like her mother. I love you.

July 21

Y/N,

Today we laid you to rest. Even though your parents didn’t like me that well, they both put that aside today. John B and Pope had to practically hold me up at the cemetery. We were supposed to grow old and gray together, but today I had to put you six feet under at twenty three. It hit me that I am a widower at twenty-five. I am a single father of a four day old “micro preemie”. I’m at the hospital now. I’m not supposed to be in the NICU this late, but the night nurse knows what happened and can understand my need to be close to the last thing I have of you. I love you more than you will ever know,

PS: I did as you wished and made JB and Sarah her godparents. They’re coming tomorrow to see her for the first time.

July 25

Y/N,

I spent the night in jail last night. You see, they finally figured out who the pick up belonged to. I hadn’t seen him since we got married two years ago, but I was so pissed off when I went into the jail to talk to Shoupe. I asked him for five minutes with him, which was granted. I was yelling, and I’m not embarrassed about that actually. I told him I was going to make sure he went away for a very long time. That he killed the love of my life, that because of him his fucking granddaughter is fighting for her life right now all because he felt like it was okay to drive drunk. That motherfucker showed no remorse whatsoever. He fucking smirked at me Y/N, so I punched him. Square in the jaw. Of course, I was promptly booked for it, but I was told this morning that they weren’t going to actually press charges because in Shoupe’s eyes he deserved it. They put it on the books as a purely cooling down period. I came back to the hospital, and Charlie is stable. They said if she keeps improving like she is, I might get to hold her for the first time soon. I’m trying to be strong for her, for you, but I miss you so much. You should still be here, she should still be safe and growing inside you. But it wasn’t meant to be. I love you more than the moon and stars,

August 9

Y/N,

So I haven’t written in a while and that’s because we have a pretty rocking kid, you know? I got to hold her for the first time last week. It was an emotional affair, I was sobbing the moment they placed her on my chest. She’s still so tiny, but she’s gaining weight and is starting to look more like an actual human instead of an alien. I made sure the nurse took a picture when I held her because I want to remember how small she was the first time I held her, even with all the wires and tubes. I may be writing less frequently but I’m gonna keep writing. It makes me feel better. Like, I’m still close to you with this notebook. I love you, I love you, I love you.

September 17

Y/N,

Happy two months Lottie Rose. I know we were going to call her Charlie, but the new night nurse started calling her Lottie, and I’ve kind of fallen in love with it. It just fits her. She’s almost three pounds now! I’m so proud of her. It’s wild to me that she would be due in almost six weeks. The doctor expects her to be home by her due date, and I promptly will be taking her to your grave. She’s always going to know how much you loved her, Y/N. I made sure your mom put “Mother of Charlotte” on your headstone. When she’s older I’m gonna take her to our favorite spots. I want her to know who you were, because I know that the person you were, is why she’s here. I love you more than I can count.

October 31st

Y/N,

Happy Due Date Lottie Rose Maybank! We’re going home today, Y/N. Lottie weighs a whopping 6 pounds now. I’m so proud of her. She is tiny, but she’s gonna catch up fast. She passed her car seat test with flying colors. She can eat from a bottle, but the nurse noticed that she wasn’t as responsive to sound as most of the other babies when they’re ready to go home. She suggested she might just be desensitized to the noise of the hospital, but they wanted to recheck her hearing before we leave, so I am writing this while I wait for them to finish that. I just signed all of her release paperwork. Last night, I was contacted by the local news to do an interview about how Lottie is, and how everything has affected me. I think I should do it, John B and Sarah said they would watch Lottie while I go to the station.

Okay so they brought Lottie back, she didn’t pass her hearing test so we have to set up an appointment for a hearing specialist. Honestly, if she needs hearing aids it isn’t the biggest deal in the world. I’m not going to love her any less. She’s our kid, she can handle anything that's thrown in her way. I love you bunches,

December 24

Y/N,

This single dad thing is hard. Tomorrow is Lottie’s first Christmas, and we are going to church with your parents. I know you always liked to go on Christmas and Easter at least, so I thought that could be one tradition I kept with Lottie. I’m also keeping the tradition of buying a personalized ornament every year for the Christmas tree. It’s wild to think that at this time last year, we had just agreed to try for a baby, and this year everything is different. You’re not here, we have a five month old daughter who is the size of a three month old. I’ve got to tell you, losing your wife brings things into perspective. I want Lottie to have a set of grandparents that love her unconditionally. I’ve spent a lot of time with your mom and sister the last month or so, and I know your mom will love her no matter what. No matter how we get along, Lottie comes first. She’s our priority. Merry Christmas, Baby, I love you.

July 17

Y/N,

One year. You have been gone one long year. This time one year ago, I was working on Pope’s dad’s truck. It seemed like every single siren in the town went out, and I remember thinking “That must be a bad accident.” If only I knew then. If only I knew that in an hour, you would be gone, that I’d be standing in the waiting room of the hospital while they worked on you until they couldn’t anymore. I remember the anger, Shoupe and another officer holding me back before I just buckled in my own grief. I remember your mom and dad coming, having rushed over from the mainland. Your mom knew, as soon she walked in the waiting room where I was a mess on the floor, JB on one side of me, Pope on the other, she knew. We sobbed together, we became numb together. I vaguely remember telling her they were lifelining Lottie to Raleigh. I remember her looking at me and telling me, “John James, you listen to me. You get to Raleigh, your daughter needs you. Do you hear me? She needs you.” It was the only time in my life I didn’t mind hearing my full name. I didn’t get to see her until she was already two days old. Today we have a happy, healthy, one year old. She’s catching up with kids her age, which kind of shocks the doctors. She’s growing on track, she’s hitting milestones. She just started crawling, but she can already get wherever her little heart desires. I’ve made a conscious effort to not be sad in front of her today. We are having a big party for her, she’s going to love it. I miss you, sweetheart. I love you

August 10

Y/N

Time flies, you know? It seems like yesterday I was bringing Lottie home from the hospital. Where has five years gone? Today, I dropped her off for her first day of kindergarten. We had a long conversation about how if anyone was mean about her hearing aids, to tell her teacher and how it wasn’t a bad thing to ask for help. I want her to have a better school experience than I had, I want her to like school. That didn’t stop me from sobbing like a baby the whole way to work. Of course, my boss knew I’d been crying and just patted my shoulder and told me “if you think this is the only first day that you’ll cry, I have news for you.” I told him Lottie is an only child, I’m probably going to cry at every first day of school. It’s strange to think that if you were still here we’d probably have another little Maybank running around. It’s okay though, your sister had twins two years ago and JB and Sarah are having their first soon, so she’s got cousins to play with. I love you sweetheart.

July 17

Y/N.

Uh, we have a teenager? Like a full ass practically fully grown human in our house. Thirteen years and it still feels like yesterday. We got the news yesterday that Luke Maybank died in jail over the weekend. Y/N, I have to tell you, our daughter cracks me up. I told her that her grandfather passed away, and she told me she hopes you take a trip down to hell and kick the shit out of him. I told her that I beat the shit out of him thirteen years ago when she was barely a week old. She found the news articles about the accident, and asked me to talk to her about it. I did, but it was hard. I’ve never shut up about you so she knew who you were. She also asked me why I never remarried. It’s simple, really. Half my heart was buried with you 13 years ago, and the other half divided to recover and love our daughter just as fiercely as we loved each other. I love you honey.

May 31

Y/N,

Okay, we’re old. It’s fine. Charlotte Rose Maybank, you know our pretty rockin’ kid? Yeah, she graduated high school today, as valedictorian. She’ll be 18 in July, Y/N, and then in August she’s going to the mainland for college. She wants to be a doctor. Watching her walk across that stage, in her cap and gown, I was sobbing. I was an absolute mess. JB had to take pictures for me because I couldn’t stop shaking. You’d be so proud of her. I know I sure am. I love you more than I can breathe,

October 25

Y/N,

Our baby girl got married today. Of course, I could go my entire life without knowing that JB and I are going share grandkids someday, but really Alexander is a great kid, and he loves Lottie. I know that someday, she’s going to find all these notebooks and read them and I hope she laughs that I shared every milestone with you like you could read these. She’s got one more semester of school left, then she will officially be Charlotte Rose Maybank-Routledge, MD. I personally think the hyphenating of her last name is really complicated, but that’s what she wants. She looks absolutely stunning in her dress, I hope you can see her. I love you, gorgeous,

November 13

Y/N,

We became grandparents today. It’s wild to think that 27 years ago, I was holding our daughter in the same hospital where Carter Jonathan Maybank-Routledge arrived early this morning. The Maybank genes are still strong in this one, Carter looks so much like Lottie it’s not funny. I told JB maybe the next one will look like his side, ha. Okay sweetheart, I love you. JJ

March 6

Mom,

I had absolutely no idea that Dad wrote you a letter every week, sometimes every day, for 36 years. He fought the cancer for a very long time, Mom, because he simply didn’t want to leave me and the boys. I found the notebooks, I’ve spent the last week reading them. He loved you so much, he loved me so much. He wrote to you up until the last day. That’s beautiful. I know you are back together now. You’ve got 36 years to catch up on. Tell him we’ll be fine.

I love you both,

Lottie.

#obx fic #jj maybank x reader #JJ maybank #obx #outer banks fic #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks #JJ maybank fic #jj maybank fanfiction #JJ maybank angst #obx angst #obx fanfiction #dad!jj maybank

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queenofalpaca · 2 months

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“Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss/Mansplain, Manipulate, Malewife”

Pleeeease

Jesus fucking Christ.

Of course you’d pick the single darkest and most fucked up wip I own. Alright, I said I’d do it, here goes:

TW for gaslighting, drugging, murder, child death, other death, Bode being entirely unhinged (I swear I love him very much), and Cal having a very bad time (I swear I love him too)

This one’s inspired by a Tweet I saw once about drugging someone and then gaslighting them about it, and pushed along by The Evil Chuckle (1:1 what I called it in that wip) that Bode can do in the final battle.

I guess I’ll just slap down some notes from the wip and you can… do with that what you will (except judge me, keep that to yourselves)

Context:

Kata dies, Bode kills Merrin (and Greez too I guess), BD gets broken? I dunno. And Bode ends up completely fucked in the head and treating Cal like a pet one second and his dearest beloved lil boi the next

Outline

Start out with Cal thinking he can fix Bode

Willingly gives in to some of Bode’s demands

There’s no fixing that man

They end up killing each other

Gaslight:

Shove medication/drugs down his throat and then pretend he didn’t

Tell him that his memory is so unreliable, that why he always needs BD around, but now that he’s not here, Bode can take over that task

Girlboss:

Brutally murder some people to keep Cal “safe” (they might’ve been trying to save Cal from Bode)

And now for some snippets, because this is never getting finished or published anyway, so I might as well.

Malewife

Bode reached out and caressed Cal’s freckled cheek with the back of hand. He looked so… soft while he was asleep. All of the weight, the struggle, the pain of the day gone and replaced with vulnerability and compliance. He traced Cal’s eyebrow with his thumb, smoothing out the slight crease in his forehead.

He really was beautiful. His eyelashes splayed elegantly against his pale skin, the freckles across his nose, his soft, slightly parted lips. Bode ran his thumb over Cal’s bottom lip. It yielded readily to his touch. The skin was a little dry. Maybe he should buy Cal some chapstick. Cal liked practical gifts. He’d told Bode once that non-functional gifts just sort of felt like a burden. It was a shame. Bode would’ve happily showered him in gifts, but he didn’t want his Scrapper uncomfortable. But chapstick would be fine.

He stroked over Cal’s upper arm. “I’ll be back in a little bit. Still have some stuff to take care of,” he murmured. “Love you.”

He stood from the bed and made his way out of the room quietly, safe in the knowledge that the drugs would keep Cal under for at least another five hours. Making him swallow another pill then would be easy as long as he was still soft from sleep. Bode smiled to himself.

Murder

Bode gasped softly as Cal ignited the saber through his stomach.

“C-Cal?”

Cal tried to stumble away, but Bode gripped his arms and held on tightly. Cal squeezed his eyes shut so he didn’t have to see Bode’s face. Bode had no right to look so- so scared and confused. His heart felt like it was being ripped out of his chest. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. Bode had hurt him. He should’ve been the one to feel guilty for his actions. Cal just… he just wanted it to stop, why did it hurt? He wanted Bode gone.

Bode sunk to his knees, pulling Cal with him. They hit the floor with a dull thud.

“I’m sorry,” Cal whispered.

“W-Why?” Bode placed one hand against Cal’s shoulder, bracing himself.

Cal looked up, into Bode’s hurt eyes. “I can’t take it anymore.”

“I just-“ Bode whimpered as the lightsaber in his gut shifted a little. “I just wanted to take care of you.”

Cal sobbed. No. No, this wasn’t fair. He hadn’t- he’d hurt him. He’d drugged him and beaten him and humiliated him and now he wanted to be thanked? No! It wasn’t- he didn’t-

Cal shook his head. Bode had fed him and cuddled with him and soothed him when he couldn’t sleep. He… he had taken care of Cal. And now Cal was thanking him by murdering him.

But then why did Cal flinch every time Bode touched his lower back? Why did he cringe away from any glasses of water Bode offered, afraid of what he might have in his other hand?

Why was there a collar in the drawer upstairs?

“I’m not your pet. I’m a p-person.”

Bode laid a hand against his cheek. “It’s okay.”

A scream got stuck in Cal’s throat as a searing hot pain stabbed through his gut. He looked down to see Bode’s hand on the lightsaber, thumbing the ignition of the other half. His hand dropped away as he swayed into Cal.

“I love you.”

Cal dropped the lightsaber like he’d been burned. It turned off and rolled away with a soft clatter. There was- there was a hole through him. It still felt like the lightsaber was inside.

Bode fell into him and pressed against his shoulder, his hands tightly gripping Cal’s back. Cal hesitantly wrapped his own arms around Bode. He… he was dying. He’d killed Bode and then Bode had killed him and now they were both dying.

Tears were rolling down his cheeks. He wasn’t sure if he was crying again or if he hadn’t stopped. He wished… he wished someone was here. He wished someone would hold him and tell him that it’d all be fine.

But he’d killed Bode. He could feel his presence in the Force fading. The ever present threat of punishment going with it. Cal missed the way he’d once felt. That steady boulder in the stream, the safe haven in a chaotic galaxy. But that been a lie. This toxic whirlpool of anger and fear and obsession had always lurked beneath the surface.

But Bode really had loved him. And he’d loved Bode. And now it was all broken. It would all be over soon.

He didn’t know how long they kneeled there, hugging, before Bode’s muscles went slack and his arms dropped. He didn’t know how long it took after that for death to claim him too.

More Unhinged Stuff

“Hey, Scrapper.”

Cal couldn’t hide the flinch at the familiar nickname. Bode forced down a smile at the visceral reaction. “Brought you some food.” He crouched down a safe distance away from Cal, watching Cal’s body move with slightly stuttering breaths.

“What did you do?” Cal was trying oh so hard to sound hard, grounded. But his voice couldn’t hide the fear threading its spidery web through the wildfire that burned inside of him.

Bode sighed. “I don’t think you want to know. Come on, you’ve gotta eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.” Cal curled in on himself further, as much as his splinted leg would allow him.

“I don’t care.” Bode stood and stalked toward Cal, primal pleasure curling around his shoulders as Cal tried to scramble away. This time, he couldn’t suppress the grin that stretched across his face. “You do as I say, now, Cal.” A sloppy kick was easily sidestepped, and without much effort, Bode had his little Jedi pinned under him.

“I gave you a choice. I gave you so many chances. And you wasted them all.” He grabbed Cal’s wrists and pinned them beside his head. Cal thrashed under him, anger bleeding into rage, trying to relight the dark spark he’d gripped during their fight. Bode let the dark wave of his own presence crash over Cal, suffocating the attempt. He was in control now. The Dark Side was his. Cal was his. He leaned down and set his forehead against Cal’s as the man under him gasped through the shock of being blanketed by Bode’s presence.

“No more choices now. Now, I’m deciding what’s best for you.”

Context

I love Kata, Merrin, and Greez, also. I promise.

This is your last warning. Turn back now or suffer the consequences

“Stay back!” Why did she insist on trying to get in the way? Couldn’t she see that he was doing this for her? He just needed a little bit. He’d defeat them soon enough. Cal was struggling futilely against his headlock and Merrin, hah, her grasp of the Force was wholly different. He could rip through her little spells faster than she could chant them. As long as Kata just-

A resounding crack splintered something anchored in his heart. He gasped, his vision greying out for a moment as freezing numbness swept through him. What- what was that? What had just happened?

“Kata?” He let go of Cal, who dropped to the ground with a harsh wheeze. Merrin’s hurried approach was ignored as he staggered to his feet and over to where he’d pushed Kata. He almost fell to his knees a few times, every other step either too light or practically cracking straight through the floor. “Sweetheart?” Why couldn’t he sense her?

His daughter’s tiny little body laid unmoving on the ground beside a large fallen boulder. Bode dropped to his knees at her side. “Little Star?” He gently shook her shoulder. Her head lolled weakly with the movement. The numbness began turning to fear.

He hadn’t pushed her that hard. It had just been meant to get her out of the way - out of danger; she should’ve barely stumbled; why- why wasn’t she waking up? “Kata.” He picked her up, cradling her body in his arms. She was so small. “Kata, sweetheart.” He brushed the hair out of her face. She had that little furrow in her brow when she was asleep, like Tay had said he did too. Bode had spent many nights sitting by her bedside and smoothing his thumb over it. It wasn’t there now.

Kata wasn’t asleep, was she? She was gone.

His body shook as he curled over her, a feeble attempt to shield her body. From what? She was dead. He’d killed her. He hadn’t meant to. She was dead. He’d killed his own daughter. He’d killed the last person who meant anything.

Soft footsteps approached from behind. Cal. Merrin. “Bode?”

He took a shuddering breath and carefully put down Kata’s body. There was nothing he could do for her now. It was over. His body wouldn’t stop shaking. He clenched his hands into fists. Everything he’d done. All of it for nothing. What good was Tanalorr now? The person it had been meant to shelter was dead.

He laughed quietly. Well, if nothing mattered anymore, there was no sense in trying to hold on to any semblance of sanity. What was there to fear? Nothing. Nothing left. And the Dark beckoned so sweetly.

“Bode?” The sound of Cal’s lightsaber igniting hissed through the air. Bode climbed back to his feet with measured movements, then rolled his shoulders back.

If he couldn’t have Kata, he’d take Cal. He whirled around and grasped the power at his fingertips to wrap it around Merrin’s neck and crush.

Cal’s anguished scream echoed through the room. Bode ducked under his swing and rammed his shoulder into Cal’s stomach. His lightsaber turned off as it fell from his hand and bounced harmlessly off Bode’s back. Bode followed with his momentum to send them both crashing to the ground. Before he was even able to draw in another breath, Cal was already clawing at him, mad with grief.

A handful of hair and a slam into the floor left Cal dazed for long enough to let Bode flip him onto his front and press his arms into his back. Bode tilted his head in thought as he watched Cal struggle under him. Now what? Oh. Right.

He shifted so he could lay a hand on Cal’s thigh. “Sorry about this, Scrapper. But I can’t have you running away while I take care of some stuff.” Cal was all blunt force, sweeping waves of power blasting groups of stormtroopers off of cliffs. Bode’s talents were a bit different. A pinpointed attack had bones cracking clean in two, and Cal screaming in pain. That would do.

Now, where was that annoying Lateron?

#mind the TWs #these parts be dark #I think I’m going to leave this one untagged #every other fic I’ll happily inflict onto the fandom tag but this one #this one stays at home with me

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mothmxwhump · 2 years

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Is this a week late? Yes. Am I posting it anyways? Absolutely.

Whumptober Prompt No. 1 A little out of the ordinary

Adverse Effects | Unconventional Restraints | “This wasn’t supposed to happen”

Tw/cw: hybrid/nonhuman whumpee, dehumanization, pet whump, heavily conditioned whumpee, Stockholm syndrome, blind whumpee, ableist implications, abandonment issues, institutionalized slavery

Poppy squirmed in his owner’s grip. She slapped him, continuing to drag him along by his leash.

“Please, ma’am, p-please, I’ll be so good! I’ll do whatever you want!”

“Shut it, Poppy.” she snapped.

“B-but I love you! I-I--I thought you loved me! Please, mistress--”

“That’s enough, Poppy.” His owner snarled, shoving him against the wall. “I never loved you. I said that because you’re so fucking weak that that’s all it took to break you. I don’t fucking want you any more and it’s not your goddamned place to tell me what I should do with my property. Now stop struggling and behave yourself.”

He sobbed, his blindfold soaking with tears. Still, he lowered his head and followed Lucia, tail tucked in between his legs.

“Your highness! I-I apologize, we weren’t expecting such prestigious company--” a man’s voice began.

“Enough with the formalities. You buy and resell second-hand pets, correct?”

“Erm, y-yes, ma’am--”

“Good. I want this one appraised. I don’t even care about the money, just take him off my hands.”

Poppy desperately whined. “Mistress--pl-please, I’ll be good--”

“Shush.”

“Mouthy one, eh?” the shopkeeper chuckled.

“Not normally. He’s perfectly well behaved normally. Just a clingy little mutt.” Lucia hands the man Poppy’s leash.

“Well, based on appearances… I can probably give five grand for him. Any issues with him?”

“He’s blind and has very visible facial scarring, will that devalue him?”

“Yes, I suppose. But his demeanor is worth a pretty penny. Probably around four thousand, five hundred?”

Poppy whimpered, reaching out to cling to his mistress’s sleeve, only to have her smack him.

“That will be fine.”

Once they’d reached a deal and the shop keeper had handed over the money, Lucia abandoned Poppy like he’d never meant anything. Like he was just a toy to be tossed out and forgotten.

He tucked his legs against his chest once he was in his crate, sniffling. The trainers who Lucia had hired told him that if he’d behave, she wouldn’t leave him. That if he was good, he would be safe with her forever. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to be thrown out like he meant nothing, left behind and forgotten by his beloved owner.

#pet whump #whump #whumptober2022 #whumptober no. 1 #Poppy #Lucia

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primofate · 3 years

Text

Smile for Me (Part 5) Zhongli x fem!reader

Summary: Zhongli never smiled at you the way that he smiled at his memories of Guizhong. Thinking that the only way Zhongli would ever be happy is for Guizhong to come back again, you secretly set off on a journey to bring her back to life. But it comes with a price: Your life.

Warnings: pining, angst, one-sided (at first), hurt, angst again, drama, some Guizhong x Zhongli, hints of Xiao x reader, MAY NOT FOLLOW THE ACTUAL LORE, not proofread.

Notes: This took longer than expected too. It’s just that I didn’t want to take too long explaining what happened and everything, I didn’t think that was the main focus, but my OCD self still wanted to include an explanation so...

Read: (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 6)

“I told you not to do anything reckless,” was the first thing you heard when you opened your eyes. You hadn’t even processed anything yet. Not where you were. Not who was talking. Not even who you were. It came back to you very slowly as the ceiling started to become clearer. You rolled your head sideways to see Xiao, arms crossed and glaring at you. You blinked. As if missing pieces of your brain slowly coming back and you shot up from the bed, gasping. In alarm, Xiao stands as well and places his hands on your shoulders out of instinct. “What’re you doing?!” he hisses and you only look up at him, horrified. “Rex Lapis found out?” you whispered, eyes not hiding the fact that you were crestfallen.

If you were back, it only meant one thing. Someone took you back and you knew who it was. Xiao’s lips turn into a tight line, but he urges you to lay back down on the bed. Wangshu Inn. You recognize the decorations.

“Rex Lapis found out,” he confirms, but his fists ball up tight. Xiao himself had forgotten about you too, and the guilt he felt at that seemed to have increased his burdens. “...and he was enraged, Y/N, more so than normal,” Xiao explained and your shoulders slump, head down towards the hands on your lap.

“...and so was I... I warned you not to go to Wuwang Hill!” You winced at Xiao’s tone, but he had said nothing after that. You fell into silence as well. The only sound between you two were the birds chirping outside. “...I thought...” before you knew it the droplets were landing on your hands. Xiao stiffened up at the realization you were crying. “I thought it’d be better if she came back and I left,” your voice is barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to take care of him, Xiao. I don’t know how to serve Rex Lapis for him to be at ease, the way he was with Guizhong. I don’t know how to make him smile the way Guizhong makes him smile. I--” and your sobs are soft, because you hold them back, because the last thing you wanted to do was to come back and face Rex Lapis and his questioning gaze.

Xiao suddenly stands. Your eyes dart over to him in question. He’s looking at you with guarded remorse, and yet, his face is stiff. You blink up at him, and watch as he walks backwards off to the side and bows towards the door that you hadn’t noticed had opened.

Your eyes widen, amidst your tears you can see the unmistakable blur of Zhongli standing there. Expression unreadable.

In the next moment, Xiao has left the room.

You cannot process what just happened. He continues to stand there, as if a statue, the only indication that he was living was the soft rise and fall of his chest. A shiver runs down your spine and you wipe the remaining tears you had left, reduced to just sniffling under his gaze.

“You must be wondering what transpired,” Zhongli starts, but doesn’t make a move to come closer. Not really, you think. You didn’t really care about what happened. There was only a deep set embarrassment in your stomach.

“It turned out to be an evil spirit residing in the tree for millennia. Trapping lost souls...Chongyun and Xiao had to help me restrict her.” He seemed to take in a ragged breath. “It’s nothing short of a miracle that we got you safely out of her realm,” here his voice changes. The tone hiding a type of anger that was slowly boiling over, like a volcano about to erupt.

“I could not imagine what would force you to go through such lengths, Y/N,” you could see the bits of lava spurting out now. “and to discover that I was the reason. Xiao is correct. I was enraged in the process,” the volcano was rumbling, and you didn’t know how to escape it’s wrath, you only fiddled with your fingers. As if a child being scolded.

Surprisingly he ended his speech there, and the volcano had simmered down. Rex Lapis was not one to lose his cool, specially after hearing what you said, and finding out the reason for it. You could hear the unmistakable sound of his shoes walking over, but you refused to look his way and look him in the eye. You didn’t have to though, because his fingers touch your chin and gently moves it towards him.

“...But I was more unsettled because of my own shortcomings. My lack of ability to see through you and stop you,” he drops his hand when he was sure you were going to hold his gaze. “You have misunderstood, Y/N. Guizhong is a past memory, I’ve long since accepted it. But of course, no matter how much time has passed, I still cherish those memories,” He takes the chair that Xiao was previously on and even sitting, he’s still a tad taller than you who is on the bed. “And so how do you imagine I felt when I discovered you’d chosen to erase all memories of you? Those memories that I cherish?”

Your head moves to try and look away from him but he catches it yet again with his hand and levels a gaze on you. He doesn’t want you to look away. “There was nothing to grasp at,” he starts and you notice his voice descends into a whisper. “Nothing to remember you by, it was by sheer luck that I found out,” you see that something shifts in his gaze, an emotion you’ve never seen in his eyes before. “Despite remembering your face I could not recall your name.” He doesn’t say it but you can see the frustration in his golden orbs and your lips part in wonder. “I had only realized it then but forgetting you completely is...” he pauses, searching for the right words to say. “...is like losing myself,”

He takes his hand away from your face and fresh tears start to pool around your eyes. “...I’m sorry,” you croak out but he shakes his head. “The apologies...should be coming from me,” his hand then slips into a back pocket, and retrieves a small rectangular box. A golden one, something that you seemed to recognize but not completely.

“I had one made for you,” and hands it over. Your hands grasp around it delicately, and the front flap opens up to reveal a fa-zan hairpin, the crystal design at the end of it were...blue Forget-Me-Nots. The type of blue that usually matched your qipao. Your eyes widen a fraction, and your lips upturn at the irony and thoughtfulness of it all the same. At the corner of your eye he seemed to relax at the expression on your face, but he covers one of your hands with his and you look at him curiously.

“Please do not think that I have done this out of pity,” Zhongli, in some ways, knew you quite well. “It’s something...that I should have done a while ago, but my own inadequacies and hesitance had prevented me,” he takes your hand, and as his eyes close, his lips presses on your knuckles briefly.

“But there is no rush, Y/N, I will gain your trust back, as it deserves to be gained,”

His lips part from your hand, and his eyes gaze upon yours.

“I will protect you, as you deserve to be protected,”

and then there’s an unmistakable fire of determination in his eyes.

“and if you allow it... I will court you as you deserve to be courted.”

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24hlevi · 3 years

Note

can i just say that i've just finished reading that angst headcanons/imagines/scenarios or whatever it's supposed to be called about the boys reacting to y/n dying and i'm just...i'm just a sobbing mess.

it's well-written so 1000/10 for that, but whY MUST YOU ATTACK MY HEART IN THIS MANNER???? i love your work, but my poor heart ack-

btw is there any possibility to ask for a request for a same scenario but for kazutora, mitsuya, and hanma? like for kazutora's part, imagine if it wasn't yknow who died but its y/n 🥲

omg you’re so nice first of all thank you 😭 and OMG YES

TR Boys Reaction To You Dying Pt. 2

Tokyo Revengers Boys (Kazutora, Shuji, & Takashi) X Gn!Reader

Genre: Pure Angst

Warnings: Swearing, Suicide (kind of? it’s what happened to baji did so idk what to label it as 🤷‍♂️)

Hanemiya Kazutora:

All Kazutora could think was that it was all his fault that this happened. He was too caught up in his own world that he didn’t even know what he was doing anymore. He didn’t even know you had shown up to the fight until he stabbed you instead of Baji.

“Y/n?” Kazutora asked, dropping the knife immediately when he saw you standing between him and Baji, blood dripping onto the ground below you. He completely froze, not knowing what he had just done or why he even did it. “Baby, are you okay?”

You held onto the stab wound, coughing up blood as you looked at your boyfriend. “I just wanted you…to stop.” You choked out before collapsing to your knees.

Everyone had stopped and was watching you by now, shocked that you had even protected Baji from both sides when your whole body landed on the car below you. Spitting blood out of your mouth, you laid on your back, staring up at the blue sky that was dusted with white clouds.

“Y/n!”

You heard multiple people yell your name, but you couldn’t even tell who it was until you saw Kazutora kneeling beside you. “Y/n! Keep your eyes open, okay?!”

You shook your head from side to side, raising your hand to put it on Kazutora’s face before quietly speaking, “Give it to me, the knife.”

“What? Why? Look, Y/n you just gotta stay awake okay?” Kazutora spoke fast, clearly freaking out on both the outside and inside, not even caring about the gang fight anymore.

“Hand it over, Kazutora.” You said his full name which caused him to go quiet, staring down at you with saddened eyes before handing you the knife that already had your blood on it. “Thank you, babe. I love you.” You told him.

“I love you too, Y/n.” Kazutora said to you.

You bundled up your shirt at the top, putting it in your mouth so you had something to bite down on before plunging the knife into your stomach and twisting it around, then pulling it back out and dropping it.

Kazutora wrapped his arms around you and held you close to him as you lived your last moments, and he couldn’t even say anything. “I’m sorry, Y/n. I always will love you.” Was all he said after you died.

Kazutora then took the blame for killing you, resulting im him ending up in jail again but he wasn’t angry about it. He was just sad. So sad that he didn’t even try to get out of jail and get back into the gang life. He just sat around, continuously saying,

“It’s all my fault.”

Hanma Shuji:

Shuji swore that he would never allow you to get hurt while he was away doing gang activities that he didn’t want you included in. That’s why he always had someone beside you and a bodyguard to make sure you would always be safe. But even then, it didn’t work.

It was half past 1 in the morning when Shuji’s phone rang while he was with the other Valhalla members, beating up some random other gang member. Shuji stopped punching the other male, standing up straight and took his phone out of his pocket and opened it, answering. “Yes?”

“Shuji…”

Shuji’s breath hitched when he heard your shaky and quiet voice, and he immediately knew that something was wrong. “Y/n? Where are you, darling? Is something wrong?”

“I’m…at home. B-But someone..got in.” You tried your best to reply, but it was coming out shaky and slow.

“I’ll be there in five minutes. I promise, baby. Okay? I love you.” Shuji told you before turning around and looking at everyone, taking the phone away from his ear. “Kazutora, you’re in charge until I get back, understand? As for everyone else, just do what you’re told.” He said to everyone, proceeding to then walk out and make his way onto the streets when he started to sprint down the different roads.

Now he was just making sure that he made it to your place in five minutes like he said he would, which usually he would be able to do easily, but he was more determined now that he had heard something had gone wrong whilst he was away. Upon reaching your place, he saw the front door opened already and he quickly rushed inside. “Y/n?! Baby, where are you?!” He called out as he started to run through every room in the house.

He finally made it to your room where you laid on the floor, a puddle of blood beneath you as you were taking shallow and slow breaths. “Y/n!” Shuji yelled out your name, going over to you and kneeling down beside you. He grabbed you and lifted you up, holding you in his arms as he checked for your pulse. When he felt it he let out a sigh of relief but it was very weak and barely noticeable which made him realize he probably only had a few more moments with you.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. For not being here when I should have. I’m so fucking stupid, I should have just stayed here with you. I’m sorry, darling. I’m sorry.” Shuji said to you, his voice cracking halfway through as tears welled up in his eyes.

You looked up at him and smiled lightly despite you dying in his arms. “It’s okay, Shuji. Don’t...blame yourself. I still love you.” You had never seen the boy cry before, that’s how you knew that he did really love you, that he wasn’t just saying it so he could manipulate or get things from you.

“I love you too.” Shuji whispered out.

Soon enough, your head went limp and your eyes were stuck open, all of the life drained from your face as blood dirtied the floor and Shuji’s clothes. “Y/n? Y/n? Wake up, please.” The boy pleaded to your now deceased body, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to get you back. Not ever again.

Shuji became what you would have never wanted him to become, a terrible person who killed anyone if they even looked at him the wrong way, and most importantly, one that drank all of his feelings after the day was over, crying to himself over your death still.

Because he would never get you back. And he regretted that the most.

Mitsuya Takashi:

Takashi was the most important person in your life, just like you were to him. He had told you on multiple occasions that he wanted to be with you forever. And he thought it would really happen. Boy, was he wrong. So, so wrong.

You two were walking down the busy street, eating street food while going inside stores and just admiring the night scenery. Everything was going perfectly normal, until it all changed within a few seconds.

“Hey, babe?” Takashi said, looking over at you.

“Yeah?” You repled.

“Do you wanna get married some day in the future?”

The question that came out of your boyfrien’s mouth shocked you, and you didn’t know how to reply. You both were still teenagers, how the hell were you supposed to know? “Only if it’s you I’m marrying.” You aswered with a smile.

Takashi smiled back and pressed his lips against yours before pulling away quickly after. “Same here.” He told you.

Suddenly, car tires screeched on the black cement road and one zoomed around, an all black van. It’s windows opened and guns pointed out of them before they started to fire. Takashi quickly wrapped his body around you and covered you with his, not even caring if he would end up getting killed because of it.

After the car drove off, Takashi looked at you and asked in a frantic voice, “Y/n, are you okay?”

You looked at him, then down to your side, shaking your head as you spat out blood. Takashi’s eyes widened as he yelled out your name, but you had collapsed onto the ground, grabbing at your abdomen where the gunshot wound was, blood beginning to soak through your clothes and onto the sidewalk below you.

“No, no, no. Y/n! Stay with me!” He yelled, taking his phone out of his pocket and about to call the polce when you grabbed his hand, stopping him. “What?”

“Don’t. It’s okay.” You told him, a small smile on your face.

“It’s not okay! I can’t lose you! We-We just talked about getting married some day!” The boy continued to yell.

“Maybe...in another life, we will.” You spoke barely above a whisper, your vision starting to darken and turn blurry. “I love you, Mitsuya Takashi.”

“I love you too, Y/n.” Takashi replied to you but you didn’t respond. “Y/n?” He reached his hand over and shook you gently, and when you didn’t move he looked at your face, then realizing that you were gone. He sat on the ground, and put his hands over his face, beginning to cry.

Takashi cried and mourned over your death everyday, despite people telling him to move on. He just couldn’t. He would never be able to find someone he would love like he loved you. He knew that. So that’s how it remained the rest of his life. Lonely, and depressed.

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beels-burger-babe · 3 years

Text

A Pain You'll Soon Regret - Pt. 4

***Here we go! Okay. So a reminder to everyone to read SAFELY! Please make sure you check in with yourself and your mental well-being before, during and after the fic. Know your triggers, know your limits. Be careful, dears. ❤❤ Also just a HUGE thank you to everyone for supporting this series. I am so glad you've all loved it so much. It's been a process, but I'm glad you've stuck with me throughout it 😊***

Poly!MC Summary: MC and the demon lords get in a fight resulting in MC leaving. They planned on going to Purgatory Hall until things cool off, but they never quite make it there. TW: Heavy Angst, Violence, I don't know what to tag this, but there is a pretty nasty verbal fight, Gore/Injury Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Inside the Purgatory Hall was a sight that no one had seen since the end of the Great Celestial War. The seven Avatars of Sin sat defeated around a broken, bloodied body as they held on tightly to one another with tears running down their face.

They each held on to a part of you as they bowed their heads in despair for the damage done to you and regret for inadvertently causing it to happen. They sat in silence for the first twenty minutes, simply basking in the utter sorrow that filled the room, before Satan spoke up. "L-Lucifer?" He asked with a woeful tone. "How do we fix this? C-Cause I've read all the books a-and I don't know how we can make this better." If the severity of the situation wasn't already so obvious, that fact that Satan, of all people, was turning to Lucifer for advice made it glaringly so. And then it got even worse.

Lucifer, not even looking up at his brother, squeezed your hand and he pressed his forehead against it. His shoulders shook as sobs began to come from his mouth. "I-I don't know, Satan. I...I just don't know if we can." Seeing Lucifer crack was enough for the entire group. Soon they were all leaning on one another, sobbing as they mourned what their relationship with you once was and feared for what would come in the future. In the midst of the crying, Leviathan felt a small squeeze on the hand he was holding. He quickly looked over at you and tried shushing his brothers. "I think they're waking up!" Lucifer looked over at Asmodeus. "Go get Simeon and Solomon!" Knowing that now wasn't the time to argue, Asmo merely nodded before taking off. There was some movement behind your eyelids, and you squeezed Mammon's hand tighter, but still no words or opening of eyes. Belphie ran a hand through your hair from where your head was in his lap. "Come on, Angel," he whispered desperately, "open your eyes for me. Wake up." A small groan came from you as the door flew open and Solomon, Luke and Simeon rushed into the room.

"All of you out," Solomon ordered as he shoved Levi out of the way and took his place. All of the brothers instantly tensed in defence. They opened their mouths to argue, but Solomon raised a hand to silence them. "We don't have time to argue this. Considering the situation when MC last saw you, I don't want to risk stressing them more by them waking up being surrounded by the seven of you. You can wait outside. We will let you in again if, and only if, they want to see you. Now, go," his words were quick and heated, though the wizard wasn't even looking at them, too focused on you. Lucifer growled lowly, before shaking his head and turning away from the wizard. "I hate to admit, but they-" "When he said we don't have time, he meant we don't have time!" Luke snapped and pointed at the door. "Out! Now! You should be grateful we even let you see them for this long!" Satan's head snapped towards Luke at those words. All of the rage that had been lying dormant inside of him, suddenly washed over him as he went to charge at the small angel. Luke didn't so much as flinch, even as Beel restrained him and the demon began snarling and thrashing. He did, however, react as a whimper spilled from your lips and you turned you began to move restlessly. "I said out!" he picked up the closest item to him, a pillow, and threw it harshly at Lucifer. "Take your feral brothers and leave." Lucifer glared at the child but did as asked. With some not-so-mild complaints from the others, the lords left the room. Luke stomped over to the door and locked it shut behind them. Simeon replaced where Belphegore had been sitting, and placed your head in his lap gently, as he watched your eyes begin to softly flutter open.

*** Pain and shouting. That's all you could hear and feel. What was happening around you or what even happened to you, you couldn't recall. You wanted the noise to stop. You wanted the pain to go away. You tried to open your mouth to ask for as much, but all that came was a whimper. The shouting got worst, and the ringing in your head grew and grew until finally, a peaceful silence filled the room. It was now just you, the darkness, and the pain. Or so you thought until you felt someone place your head down on something soft. Mustering up what little strength you could pull from your body, you slowly blinked open your eyes. Blue eyes. At the sight of them, you instantly felt the panic that you hadn't even realized had built up, deflate within you. Blue eyes had saved you. Of that much, you were sure. You couldn't quite remember the details. But you knew that a person with blue eyes had saved you from something...something horrible. These blue eyes in particular were surrounded by warm brown skin and framed with dark hair; making you realize that this was not the person who saved you. Simeon

Your mind provided. His name is Simeon. Simeon smiled peacefully at you. "Hello, MC. It's lovely to see you with us again." You heard little footsteps rush across the room. When you looked over you found your true saviour, Luke, looking at you with a concerned, teary-eyed expression. "Are you in pain? Do you remember what happened? Simeon said that you hit your head pretty hard, but we wouldn't know the extent until you woke up. D-Do you remember me?" You chuckled, though the sound was dry and cracked from disuse and you nodded. "Of course, I remember you, Luke. You saved me," you croaked. At hearing your voice, Luke gasped and grabbed a glass of water from the side table. He handed it to you as a white-haired man, Solomon if you could recall, helped you sit up. "Th-That's good! That means you're okay! R-Right, Simeon?" Luke stuttered tearfully as glanced up at his superior. You weren't listening though. As they moved you into a seating position, you had suddenly become fully aware of something, or rather, your lack of something. "M-My...My leg," the room fell silent as you lean forward and brushed your fingers against the bandages. It all came flooding back to you. The fight. The demons. The complete and utter terror that filled your body. The excruciating pain as you believed that you were going to be eaten alive. You gasped and pulled back as though you had been burned. "Oh-Oh my god!" you choked out as you brought a trembling hand to cover your mouth as you stared at the space where your leg used to be. "Th-they- I almost- I-I think I'm going to be sick." Solomon's eyes widened as he quickly grabbed a nearby vase and placed it under your face. You gripped onto it tightly as you spilled your stomach contents inside it. Simeon whispered small words of comfort as he rubbed your back. "Let it out. You'll feel better afterwards. " You whimpered and passed the vase off to Solomon who set it aside. Your heart was racing in your chest as your thoughts travelled at a mile a minute. Your body trembled as a few cries slipped from your lips. You felt nothing and everything at once. What were you supposed to do? Simeon, Solomon and Luke were here, and you were so grateful for them. But they weren't who you wanted. They weren't who you needed. "The brothers-" You sobbed as you gripped onto the blanket that hardly maintained your modesty. "I-I want my boys. Please? A-Are they here? D-Do they know a-a-about...about-" Solomon gently squeezed your arm as you began to sob. "They know and they're here. They're a bit of a mess, but they're here," although his tone was soft, there was an edge of displeasure in it. "We know about the fight, so we thought we would give you the choice of whether or not you wanted to see them." You nodded your head weakly. "Bring them in." Luke whined and lightly pulled on your hand. "B-B-But MC! It's their fault you were out there! How could you possibly want to see them after all of that?" His eyes were wide with both desperation and confusion. He couldn't understand how you would want to see people who had caused you so much pain. He couldn't fathom why you would want to see the men who shared the same infernal species as your attackers. He didn't know why you would rather their hellish presence over his angelic comfort. But you did. You wrapped your arms around yourself as you answered. "I don't care what they did, right now. At the moment, all I care is that they're here, which means that they must have some level of concern for me. Right now all I want and need is my significant others to hold me and tell me that I'm going to be okay," you looked over at Simeon with water-lined eyes as you pleaded. "So can you please bring them to me. We'll sort the rest out later. Right now, I just want them by my side."

Simeon's lips parted in shock of your words and, for a moment, a flash of disappointment flickered across his eyes before it was quickly replaced with acceptance. The angel smiled gently at you before placing a kiss on the top of your head. "Of course, little lamb, I will fetch them right away." From your right, Solomon let out a heavy sigh as he squeezed your shoulder once more. Simeon merely had to unlock the door, before your lovers came tumbling into the room. They all rushed over to you, quickly blanketing you in hugs, kisses, and frantic apologies. While you were buried in the chaos, Simeon sadly smiled at the group before leading both Luke and Solomon out of the room. You shushed your boys and felt your heart warm at the feeling of being in their arms once more. "Apologies can come later," you began, causing Beel to whine in protest. "We have a lot to talk about, yes. B-But right now, I just want you guys to love me and hold me," your bottom lip began to tremble as you choked on your tears. "I-I know that I'm asking for your attention, once again. A-And I know that having to share me with each other is a-a-a lot but-" You were cut off by Mammon pulling you against his chest and burying his face in your hair. "I never should'a said any of that, treasure. I was wrong. S-So fuckin' wrong." Lucifer pressed a kiss to one of your inner palms before placing it on his cheek. "But, it's as you said. This is a conversation we'll have when you're ready. For now, will you allow us all to love you unconditionally, just as you deserve?" You could only nod, as sobs overtook you once more. You were held in every direction. Kissed on your wounds, as though the magic of your love could heal the damage that was done. Praised in the gentlest and most affectionate of whispered. Caressed with hands so careful and attentive, that you would think they were holding the world. And if you asked the lords, they were. Things weren't fixed, and they weren't perfect, but for the time being, you didn't need them to be. For now, you were all together. You were all loved, and you were all alive. And just for now, that was enough.

***There you have it, folks! That is A Pain You'll Soon Regret. I plan on writing an epilogue that will probably touch on the discussion they all need to have, MC getting their new leg, and potentially Diavolo? I haven't decided on him yet. The epilogue probably will be another couple of days, but in the meantime, I hope you enjoyed this sob fest. Remember to take care of yourself and to be kind to one another. Love you all -B*** TAGLIST: @obey-mes-treasure, @holygarm, @sufzku, @rivera-tickles, @angelprotectress, @theother4, @ester-is-here, @bissshitsu, @drsquishysquich, @leviathan-is-a-pretty-name, @zxlaki, @mammons-wife, @letsblazewolf, @levislui, @gallantys,

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spinningintheshadows · 3 years

Text

Twenty Six Letters

Warnings and authors note: This is an alternate version of I'm Gonna Love You Through It, where Reader dies instead of miscarrying after the accident and follows through her life. So warnings: character death, grieving husband and dad JJ, I'm sorry for ripping your heart out. Title credit: Black Butterflies and Deja Vu by the Maine (Lyrics: There's only twenty six letters I can use just to tell you I won't let go)

Word Count: 2,350

July 17

Y/N,

July 19

Y/N,

July 21

Y/N,

PS: I did as you wished and made JB and Sarah her godparents. They’re coming tomorrow to see her for the first time.

July 25

Y/N,

August 9

Y/N,

September 17

Y/N,

October 31st

Y/N,

December 24

Y/N,

July 17

Y/N,

August 10

Y/N

July 17

Y/N.

May 31

Y/N,

October 25

Y/N,

November 13

Y/N,

March 6

Mom,

I love you both,

Lottie.

#jj maybank #jj maybank fic #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank blurb #outer banks fic #outer banks #obx

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theaspen · 2 years

Text

FINALE PART 1

Synopsis: 4 bodies, 4 different places and only one person connecting them all.

Genre : thriller, horror, angst, mystery

Warnings : suicide, talks of depression, panic attacks,violence,b descriptions of blood, death , knives etc. Please read with caution. I do not portray enhypen this way in real life.

_____________________________ previous chap.

next chapter.

A/N. : Wtf we're at the finale already. K hope you enjoy this chapter I'm sorry if their too short. This is the best i can do. I'm ver excited hope you guys are as well. Please please I'm begging you leave a feedback if you liked it or constructive criticism you all have no idea how much difference that one small comment can make.

______________________________________________________

Heesung and Sunoo had made a groupchat with Jungwon that day, determined to solve this "mystery" by themselves. And frankly Jungwon wasn't too sure what to feel about this. For one, he didn't really consider this some sort of mystery, for him this was a very real problem and a problem that he's scared he's one of the causes for it. And second he felt selfish.

Yes they had apologised to him, but was it selfish of Jungwon to not forgive them immediately? To not leave it all in the past? He just didn't get it. Years of torture and he's just supposed to leave it behind because they apologised now? Right when they needed his help? He briefly wondered if acting petty right now would cause more damage or not.

All these thoughts raced in his head tripping over one another as he walked to his school. Every day it seemed to him that the school was just a huge assortment of traps laid all around and he was the only animal stupid enough to step into all of them , creating a safe place and a lesson for the rest of the animals.

Jungwon was very late, but he really could care less. As he passed by the classes he noticed that the classes and-really everything else was just as same as before. No one would look twice into this school. He briefly wondered if he should just skip his classes, wouldn't be the first time and if he got caught he could always create a sob story for the counselor to get away with it. He knows it's bad but he had bigger shit to deal with than detention. Infact detention seemed like heaven at the moment, just a small moment of being….normal.

He was going to step into the empty bathroom cubicles when he noticed Heesung out of the corner of his eye. He stopped for a second- wondering if he should call him out. However the look on Heesung's face made him stop. Why did he look so shifty and weird?

Heesung looked around for a few moments, fortunately not noticing Jungwon from the bathroom, and then he bolted upstairs. Jungwon contemplated for a second. Should he follow him? Deciding to just fuck it he threw his bag carelessly on the dirty floor and took careful but Swift steps right back Heesung.

Heesung just kept going upstairs without a break and when they finally reached the rooftop he stopped. Heesung unbolted the door making a pound noise echoe through the emtpy place. Just then, a disturbing thought came towards Jungwon. Heesung wasn't going to the rooftop for what he thought he was going to do…right?

Before his subconscious could stop him Jungwon called out to Heesung with fear.

""Heesung!! Stop!" He yelled carrying his voice out.

Heesung flinched a bit, turning with surprise etched in his face, "Jungwon?"

"What-what were you doing here?" Jungwon asked panting for breath. The three flights of steps really took his energy away.

"I just came here for some fresh air." Heesung said, still preplexed by Jungwon's sudden arrival.

"But- were you following me?"

"What-? What no! I wasn't! I just- just came to ask you for some notes!" Jungwon said hurriedly.

Heesung looked unconvinced, but nodded nevertheless, later going down and handing Jungwon his notes. Jungwon took it gratefully.

____

Later that night, Jungwon stared at the notebook Heesung gave him. He tried to get his mind to the notes because even with the whole fiasco they still had exams going on. So much for giving a shit about students' mental health.

Jungwon stared at the notebook and the sloppy way Heesung wrote his "A's" his mind once again wondering back to him.

The lump in his throat tightened and his stomach caved in when he thought what would have happened if he didn't follow Heesung. He didn't want another person to die because he didn't care enough, or if he for once thought about himself. The book lay forgotten in his lap and his mind thrifted away to dreams haunted by a certain someone.

______________

Jungwon really really should have stayed home. Anything would have been better than what he would witness for the next 7 hours. Immediately when he arrived he knew something was wrong. He could tell from the atmosphere which was the same one as the day of Jake's death which now seemed ages ago.

Crowds had gathered around and now no one was seen to be gasping, no one looked scared or shocked. Just pure undeterred faces of sorrow and dejection. No one whispered to their friends anymore or stood on their tip toes to take a better look. Everyone just knew by now, collectively that there was something very very wrong and the realisation seemed to just settle in.

And this type of reaction was far worse.

Jungwon ran through pushing everyone aside, his hands shaking madly hoping that whoever the crowd was gathered around wasn't who he was thinking off.

And when he saw the bloodied face of Park Sunghoon the initial relief vanished with a new type of fear. He bent down sinking his knees into the dark blood staining his uniform. A sob choked out of his mouth, his hands going forward to remove the piece of paper that was on Sunghoon's back pocket.

His tears just raced down as he read the note. There was something just so off about this whole situation, the dead body, the weirdly familiar note, and the fact that no one had seen it coming.

Someone snatched the paper out of him and Jungwon looked up to see his principal, who for once looked just as dejected and sorrowful as everyone else.

"Go wash up, boy." He said, placing a hand on Jungwon's shoulder.

And somehow Jungwon did exactly that. He doesn't really recall how in the world he even managed to get his limbs to function, much less how he was able to walk. Perhaps it was his determination that he was definitely not going to throw up or pass out in the hallway.

When he entered the washroom four things registered into Jungwon's brain in a sequence.

One was that the harsh voices he heard were not just a figment of his imagination.

Two were that the voices were of Heesung and Sunoo.

Three that Heesung was screaming with a knife stuck into his arms .

And four that Sunoo was holding said knife.

And then Jungwon's vision turned black.

_______________________________________________________

Taglist is open!!

@hiqhkey @mykalon @koreaneminem

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nctsworld · 3 years

Text

the yuletide boyfriend

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ your one wish this year is to not be single during the holidays. yangyang, as your best friend, takes it upon himself to be your temporary boyfriend. soon enough, both parties begin to wish this new arrangement could last beyond the holidays. // part of the x-mas in ncity collection WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ implied ‌anxiety attack (during the first part of dec 24th – skip if need to), smut, mutual m*sturbation, couch s*x, angst, miscommunication, swearing RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ mature TAGLIST ⇾ @infnteen

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ this is my longest fic to date and also... might be my worst b/c i feel like the angst plot points don’t really make sense... but i hope y’all still enjoy!!!

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t share or repost without credit!

NOVEMBER 30th

“So, anything special on your wishlist this year?”

Your best friend, Yangyang, asks you as you two sit next to each other on one of the many plush lounge couches in the Psychology building. It’s the usual lunch spot where you meet with him during your break between lectures.

The Psych building held much sentimental value for both of you because you met in Psych 101 during first year. Fast-forward three years later, neither of you expected to be the close friends that you are today.

Chewing your sandwich, you ponder on his question for a bit. Through the transparent glass walls leading to outside, you see the trickle of students heading towards the building since class is about to start for the noon round of lectures. A couple, you assume by the tight hand-holding and nose kissing, giggles as they enter the building, glued to one another by the hip.

“Not really.” You drop your head downward to your lunch container, smiling to yourself. “I’m honestly just happy to have Mark in my life, especially at this point in the year.”

Yangyang nods in accordance and smiles too, understanding the story behind your sentiment.

The boyfriends you’ve had since first year have always broken up with you before the holidays, right before the end of November. Since you only became close during second year, Yangyang’s been around for two out of three of your cursed holiday break-ups.

To have Mark, your latest boyfriend, be with you and it being already December tomorrow, it was truly a blessing for you and a silver lining that maybe this was the year to break the curse. Yangyang was grateful too, wanting you to have the utmost happiness.

You take another bite of your sandwich and tilt your chin toward the ramen eater.

“You?”

Yangyang slurps a few more noodles before he answers.

“I mean, the new Playstation would be nice,” he hums, mouth full.

Pointing the tip of your sandwich, you joke, “I’ll get it for you, but only if we share custody over it.”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head during a mid-slurp. “You know I can’t promise that.”

Both of you laugh in unison, living in the calm before the oncoming storm.

DECEMBER 5th

The E-Sports club for the university is hosting a party tonight and because Yangyang’s on one of the professional teams, he asked a few weeks ago if you and Mark wanted to attend. Of course you accepted; Mark also had some friends in the club.

However, when you text Yangyang in the afternoon, stating a change of mind, he knows something’s off.

Half an hour before the party starts, Yangyang decides to visit you. Thankfully you both lived on campus, but even if you lived across town, he’d still bus out to see how you were doing. He does it all the time to visit his family, anyway.

In the living room, the two sudden knocks at your door startle you. Peering through the peephole, you see the usual sight of your best friend, his lips curled upward and thumbs tucked in his pockets as he rocks on the balls of his feet.

It feels like an eternity for him when you unlock your door. The hinges squeal as you open it hesitatingly, your face barely appearing through the agape crack.

Immediately, his smile dissolves. Your face is drained and blood-shot eyes avoiding his own confront him.

Yangyang has only seen you cry twice in the three years he’s known you:

Once, when you were freaking the fuck out over potentially failing a course (but, on the upside, you ended up passing the final to save your grade).

The second time was at his house for a family dinner, when his mom accidentally added too much hot chili sauce to her homemade beef noodle soup (let’s just say you weren’t the only one crying that night).

Those were tears of dread and physical discomfort.

But this… this was crying he’s never seen from you before. His chest collapses inward, fearful of the reason behind your tears.

His voice shakes as he asks, “What happened? Are you okay?”

Neither of you are major huggers and only exchange them on the rare occasion.

However, this situation screams the necessity of it, so Yangyang lunges towards you, the collision swinging the door out of the way. His arms embrace you like a large, warm blanket. Comforting and safe.

Despite the affection, emptiness has taken over your body. Tonight, you’re a dead, empty shell of who you normally are.

You feel weak to the bone, but you muster up enough energy to scarcely raise your arms over his back to return the hug. Your eyes are dry from all the crying you’ve done all day, but apparently you have more tears left in you to spare.

Your eyelids snap shut and your jaw clenches.

“Mark broke up with me.”

Your words are muffled into his shoulder, but Yangyang hears it crystal clear.

You break down, sobbing out of control over the statement.

As aforementioned, Yangyang’s been around for your last two, now three, break-ups. Sure, he’s aware of how grumpy and distant you can get, but you never cried in front of him. You made an effort to never have him see you at your lowest point.

And yet, here you are, drowning him in your misery. Guilt washes over you for drenching his bomber jacket, but Yangyang couldn’t give two shits. His arms squeeze tighter while he rubs your back tenderly.

After several minutes pass and your waterworks abate, you peel away from him. You sniffle and rub your nose with the back of your hand.

“Sorry about cancelling last minute.”

“Hey, no need to apologize,” he whispers soothingly.

“I’m just… so fucking frustrated.”

With fatigued eyes, you drag yourself back inside your apartment. Yangyang discreetly closes the door behind him and hurriedly uses his feet to push off his shoes. As he does so, your mouth begins to run off while you slowly pace around aimlessly.

“Fucking done with boyfriends, especially when they think it’s so fucking awesome to keep breaking up with me right before the holidays.”

He kicks off his last stubborn shoe and catches you raking your hands through your hair, pulling it back firmly. Your lips are trembling, along with your entire frame.

“Like I get that I’m horrible and needy and emotional—”

His mouth opens, wanting to cut in to disagree with you with all his heart, but he clamps it back shut and swallows, allowing you to blow your steam off.

“—but can’t they wait until the fucking new year? I don’t know, or maybe just don’t date me in the first place! I don’t know, I don’t fucking know anymore. I’m just cursed, Yangyang...”

You flop down onto the couch and sink into the ocean of shiny pleather, shutting your eyes and trying to stop crying for the nth time. The deep sting behind your eyelids pain you, but it pains Yangyang more to watch the events unfolding ahead of him.

Unsure of what to say, Yangyang walks around the room. His gaze falls on your laptop screen and he frowns at the mostly bare Word document that stares back at him:

“WISHLIST: -KEEP ONE (1) FUCKING BOYFRIEND DURING THE CHRISTMAS SEASON!!!!!!!! GOD FUCKING SDKMFLDS”

There are a few more lines below it with more profanities and keyboard smashing. He quickly darts away, a pang of guilt striking for invading your privacy.

Then, he turns to you on the couch again. You’re now covering your eyes with your forearm, pressing your lips together. His chest twists and his throat is arid as a desert.

You’re in shambles and he’s dying to pick up the shattered pieces of you, wants to glue you back together. On a regular basis, Yangyang’s a talking machine and can talk your ear off for hours, but right now, he doesn’t know what to say to you in your current state. He second-guesses himself, wonders if he’s even that great of a friend if he can’t comfort you in your worst times.

Blowing out a long sigh and removing your arm, you speak aloud, “You should get going to the party.”

Like awakening from a deep slumber, you rise up sluggishly and sit up on the couch, slouched over. The other figure in the room steps closer to you.

“Sorry about your jacket, by the way,” you say. Your body is still, but your glazed eyes move to the dark spot on the middle of his shoulder. He glances at it and shrugs.

“It’s better like this anyway,” he says with a gentle smile, and the tight knot in his heart softens at the flicker of your own smile, albeit a small one. Unfortunately, it fades in a few seconds. “I don’t want to leave you like this, though.”

You stare at the used, crumpled balls of tissues scattered on the living room table. Some also ended up on the floor. Break-ups are shit and 98% inevitable, but you know you’ll eventually get over it. You always do.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

He raises an eyebrow, as if asking, “Are you sure?” The lack of a worded reply causes you to notice the question written on his face.

“Go,” you plead with a feeble laugh. “Have fun for me.”

Both of you head towards your front door again. Crossing your arms, you lean your head against the door frame and attempt a smile for your best friend.

“Thanks again for checking up on me.”

Yangyang nods with a half-smile, half-pout, “Of course.”

You give him a departing wave prior to sealing your door.

Usually, Yangyang would bus from your place to the student union building, where the party is being held. Instead, he zippers up his jacket and stuffs his fists into his pockets, opting to bear the early winter chill to walk his thoughts off. His blazing self-doubt burns at first, but he overcomes it by focusing on ideas to fix your accursed dating rut instead.

Halfway through the walk, a light bulb moment occurs. A plan begins to brew on the surface of his mind and he thinks on it for the rest of the week.

DECEMBER 11th

It’s been almost a week since you last saw Yangyang.

Finals started already, so classes were done for the semester and thus, your lunch meet-ups halted too. On top of that, since you were simultaneously moping and studying, you hadn’t really texted him much, nor had he, besides the occasional check-up text on how studying was going and random memes. Yangyang knew you preferred time alone to heal and he respected that.

He also thought six days was enough time to get yourself back on your feet.

Yangyang’s at your front door once again, but this time with two bowls of his mom’s beef noodle soup in tow.

“Long time, no see,” you greet. Your tone is chipper, but your eyes look heavy, which could be partially from studying, Yangyang thinks. His smile deepens, content that you seem a lot better than the last time he visited.

“Delivery for two,” he raises the bag in his hand.

“And if I told you I already ate dinner?” you playfully retort.

The boyish man shrugs defeatedly, “Then I’ll tell my mom you hate her cooking—”

“You didn’t say it was your mom’s, Yangyang. Oh, my God,” you gasp, half-mockingly. You rush to grab the bags out of his hand and stroll towards your tiny kitchen. “Start off with that next time.”

As you remove the containers from the bag and onto the granite countertop, Yangyang shuts the door and takes his shoes off.

“So, I’m gonna be upfront and say that I may have come here with a proposal.”

“Changed your mind about the shared custody of the Playstation?”

“I’m still considering that one.” Finally in his socks, he slings his backpack off his shoulder and plops it onto the couch along with his jacket. He stands next to you by the counter. “But it’s on the same page as that. Remember that day we were talking about wishlists?”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum as you rip off the lid of one of the bowls. Blatant wisps fly upward and you inhale the savoury aroma, followed by a heavenly sigh.

“Last time I was here… I might’ve seen what you wrote on your laptop.”

Your expression immediately changes into full-on cringe. You bring a palm over to your face.

“Oh, God. Let’s not talk about that. That was just weepy, lonely me talking.”

Yangyang pops off the lid for his bowl and steps into your kitchen, rummaging through your drawers for chopsticks. “So you’re telling me you don’t want a boyfriend for Christmas?”

Your hand flies off your face. Eyes widening, you spew, “Do you have a boyfriend in your pocket, ready for me to have?”

In your open hand, he places a pair of chopsticks into it. “Well, actually, I was thinking—”

Sternly, you point the chopsticks at him. “Don’t you dare set me up with your friends.”

He counters and points his at you, “Even better than that.”

With your interest piqued, you slide yourself onto the counter stool and mix the noodles around, anticipating to hear Yangyang’s fantastic plan. Your friend sits on the other stool, facing you. He pauses for a second, taking a deep breath.

“Why don’t I be your boyfriend for the holidays?”

You freeze, and the noodles’ drips above your bowl are deafening to both individuals. Laughing awkwardly, you break your frozen state to drop your chopsticks and turn your head to look at him.

Sputtering, you say, “What?”

Unnerved, his mouth pinches to one side, thinking maybe he shouldn’t have even said anything in the first place. This was stupid, so stupid, but it’s out in the open and Yangyang already dug his grave—he may as well lay in it.

“Well, for one, it’s something on your wishlist that I can easily get,” he pauses mid-sentence, glancing upward in thought. “Well, really, fill? Is that a better way to put it?”

He continues, eyes back on you, “And two, I’m not setting you up with a stranger or someone you wouldn’t be comfortable with. I assume you know me well enough that you’re comfortable around me?”

Yangyang lifts an upturned palm and raises an eyebrow, waiting for a response to his assumption. Petulantly, you shake your head playfully and stick out your tongue at him.

Rubbing the back of his neck, his gaze drops down to the floor for his last point. His voice lowers.

“And, I don’t know, we’d just hang out like we usually do during that time, except we’d do more couple-y things.”

Realizing the implication of his words, he widens his eyes. “I mean, we'll do whatever you’re comfortable with, obviously. We don’t have to do any of the physical stuff—”

You burst into a giggle at his rambling and hold a hand out, cutting him off. “Okay, Yang. I get it.”

Yangyang watches your next moves carefully. You’re peering off to one side and picking at the tips of your fingers. After a minute that feels like forever, you nod slowly.

“I guess you have a point. We are sorta like a couple already.”

Your best friend sighs in relief, grinning that you’re not outright rejecting the idea.

“So,” you meet his eyes and bunch a shoulder up towards your ear. “We’ll just be a couple until what, New Year’s?”

“Yeah, sure,” he shrugs indifferently. “Whatever you want. It’s your Christmas wish.”

You chuckle and shake your head in disbelief that you two are actually making an agreement for Yangyang to be your temporary, holiday boyfriend.

Honestly, it’s a little crazy... but maybe it’s the perfect thing to get your mind off of Mark and the handful of holiday exes hanging above your head.

“Okay, since my last final is on the 21st, let’s start ‘dating’ then and we’ll play everything by ear, see how it goes.”

Yangyang bobs his head eagerly. “Sounds good, soon-to-be girlfriend.”

He sticks a hand out for you to shake. You take it firmly, sealing the deal and flashing him a grin.

“Soon-to-be boyfriend.”

Although the night goes on like usual between the two of you, you couldn’t deny how ecstatic you are to finally have a boyfriend during the holidays, even if it was technically your best friend as a stand-in.

DECEMBER 21st

Tonight’s your first date with Yangyang.

That sounds weird to say, you admit to yourself, but it’s the truth.

After you stroll out of your last final of the semester, Yangyang’s waiting for you inside near the main exit of the building with several layers on, including his hoodie over his head and a knitted scarf underneath. His attention leaves his phone and he stuffs it into pocket as he notices you heading over.

“Hey, girlfriend,” he welcomes you, beaming.

You snicker at the unfamiliar label. You wonder if you’re going to get used to this, even if it’s only for two weeks.

“Hey, boyfriend,” you grin harder as the word falls from your lips, trying your best not to outright burst into laughter. “Where we heading off to?”

Although you said both of you could play the dating by ear, Yangyang’s been keen on scheduling plans for the upcoming days. You told him he didn’t have to, however, he insisted by saying that he wouldn’t only be a horrible boyfriend, but a horrible friend if he couldn’t make the next weeks fun for you.

Yangyang was anything but a horrible friend, and the fact that he was willing to be your holiday boyfriend to make you happy proved it further. Nevertheless, you gladly let him take the reins.

“I was thinking the movies tonight? See the latest Marvel film?”

Concurring to the idea, you scurry towards the bus stop and are movie-theatre bound to the nearest one off-campus. Arriving at the theatre, Yangyang and you buy your tickets and a popcorn to share, then head into the respective auditorium where the movie is playing. Since the movie’s been running for a couple of weeks, the auditorium is fairly empty, giving you two the chance to snag perfect middle seats with nobody else is in the row.

Up to this point, aside from the name-dropping of boyfriend and girlfriend, this feels less like a date and more like any other hang-out with him. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing awkward.

But that changes during a third of the movie.

You’re both so immersed by the screen that neither party notices the other’s hand when both of you reach for the popcorn in Yangyang’s lap at the same time.

A jolt runs through as your hands brush together. The duo’s eyes tear away from the screen and flit to the action happening in real-time. The touch lingers for several moments.

“Sorry,” you quickly mumble, drawing your hand back slightly, but still hovering over the popcorn.

“Uhm,” Yangyang licks his lips and visibly gulps under the screen’s bright glare.

He whispers, his voice almost cracking, “As your boyfriend, can I hold your hand?”

Okay, this is just your best friend, acting as your temporary boyfriend, asking to hold your hand. No big deal, no big deal at all.

Yet, the thunderous knocking in your ears, louder than the explosions blasting through the theatre’s speakers, suggests otherwise.

You don’t even register it, but you’re already nodding in response. Your breathing slows to the rate of Yangyang’s hand inching over. At the anticipated contact, you gasp softly. His smooth fingers clasp over yours. Since the arm rest in the middle of you is positioned upward, there’s no obtrusion and you relax, letting your hands mingle in between the empty space.

Without looking at one another, both of you smile bashfully to yourselves as you try to continue to focus on the screen.

After a while, because you aren’t exactly holding hands, you spread your fingers, hastily doing so because you don’t want him to think you’re breaking the interaction, and twist your palm to properly interlock hands with him. You give Yangyang’s hand a warm, gentle squeeze. He does the same and even strokes his thumb against your skin.

Talk about playing everything by ear. Who knew you’d be hand in hand on the first date?

You attempt to not think much on it, but Yangyang’s hand in yours feels... so right, like your hand was made for this, for his to hold. Like you should’ve done this way sooner.

And if Yangyang’s thoughts could be heard, he’s thinking the same.

Despite the mutual fear of sweaty palms, neither of you desire to let go, so much that you not only hold hands during the rest of the movie, but throughout the bus ride back to campus and all the way until he escorts you to your front door.

With a certain charge in the atmosphere, you exchange sweet good-byes. That night, after the culmination of stress from finals and your worries of your holiday exes, you finally have a peaceful sleep, looking forward to your date with Yangyang tomorrow.

DECEMBER 22nd

“Babe, how do I look?”

“Very pretty, honey.” A bundled up Yangyang winks at you from behind his phone.

The second date is an evening at a Christmas light festival at a botanical garden on the outskirts of town. The lights illuminate so strongly; there was a glowing dome-like hue over the location that seemed to reach the dark sky as you got off the bus.

When stepping foot into the garden, all the encompassing lights mesmerize you. Lights on the various greenery, lights as decorative art pieces, lights lining the pathways. Different shades of colours and shapes engulf the massive area.

Yangyang’s currently in the middle of taking your photo near an arch tangled with dark blue, gold, and white bulbs. All night long, you’ve been mockingly using endearing terms, but, despite the frigid air, your cheeks heat up over something else he just said.

“You think I’m pretty?” you genuinely ask, breaking your pose.

He lowers his phone a bit, his jaw dangling.

“Uh, I mean,” he giggles awkwardly, nodding softly. “Yeah.”

Yangyang never told you, but he initially sat near you in Psych 101 because he thought you were the most stunning girl in the class. And sure, he was a little disappointed at the time to find out you had a boyfriend, but that didn’t mean you two couldn’t still be friends. Other than the first few weeks he had a crush on you, he’s never thought of you as more than a friend.

But those feelings are resurfacing, hitting him in the chest like a bag of bricks, due to moments like this one—you’re batting your eyelids, gaze straying elsewhere, and adorably chewing on your lower lip.

“And you’re not just saying that as my holiday boyfriend?”

Pouting to one side, he shakes his head cutely. “Mm-mm.”

On the flipside, the beginning with Yangyang for you was strictly platonic. You were dating Haechan at the time you met him. When Haechan broke up with you later that fall, you kept a distance from dating for a while, heartbroken from the high school love gone sour. During that period, you never told him, but you did run through the possibility of dating Yangyang since you got along so well... until you met Jaemin earlier the next semester, who stole your heart. Ever since then, you’ve never seen Yangyang under that light again.

Despite that, you can’t deny how attractive he is, and now that you’re single and technically dating him, you embrace the fact with open arms.

Beaming as bright as the lights, you tug him by the end of his puffer jacket’s sleeve to bring him closer to you.

“C’mon, handsome, let’s take some pictures together.” Prickles rise under Yangyang’s cheeks from the off-hand compliment.

Holding your phone up in the air at about an arm’s length away, the side of your heads touch to prepare for a few selfies. When you finish capturing them, Yangyang’s hovering over your shoulder as you scroll through to glance through the photos.

“We look good together,” you comment. “Don’t you think?”

In sync, your heads turn to meet each other. Your eyes waver from the blatant clouds of your breaths and over to his lips. The clouds become rapid bursts as you begin to lean forward. So does Yangyang.

“Do you guys want a picture together?” someone suddenly asks. The abrupt voice drags you both apart instantly, crushing the moment into pieces.

“Sure,” you peep, fumbling to hand your phone over to the stranger.

Posing, Yangyang’s hand rests around the middle of your back, which is the norm when you take pictures with him, but he pulls you in snugly. You smile even wider, relishing in the new-level of intimacy and allow yourself to be truly content among his presence.

“You guys are such a cute couple,” the stranger gushes while they return your phone prior to walking away.

“I guess we are, huh, babe?” you jut your tongue out in jest at him. This time, you indulge in the endearing term without a sliver of mockery.

Yangyang copies you, jutting his tongue out further than yours, and seizes your hand to continue the tour around the gleaming garden.

The almost-kiss isn’t mentioned for the rest of the night, nor is it acted upon, but both individuals dwell on the near occurrence before sleep that evening, staring longingly at their bedroom ceiling.

DECEMBER 23rd

For the third date, you find yourselves at the campus’ dedicated ice rink arena to partake in ice skating.

You’ve skated a few times in the past, but you’re by no means a pro. On the other hand, this is apparently Yangyang’s first time, and he’s already skating circles around you.

“Show off,” you grumble as he does another lap past you. Your gloved hands are splayed out in front of you, careful not to fall flat on your face.

Turning on his blades, he rebounds over to you.

“Sorry,” he pants. His raised cheeks glow an adorable shade of pink. “This is really fun when you get the hang of it.”

Yangyang intertwines his fingers with yours before you can say anything. “C’mon, take my hand.”

At first, it was sweet to skate alongside your holiday boyfriend, notwithstanding the few times you almost trip. As the minutes pass, you think you’re getting the hang of it, but suddenly, Yangyang unleashes your hand and glides ahead of you, abandoning you to slide at a swift pace that is definitely out of your comfort zone.

“Yangyang, what the fuck?!” you screech, completely disregarding the handful of surrounding parents with their kids, the former sending daggers your direction. Your ankles struggle to make a T-shape to stop, but the struggling only somehow makes you move faster.

As he spins to face you, now skating backwards with ease, he says, “See, you got the hang of it-oomph—”

Air’s struck from his lungs when you crash into his body. Thankfully, Yangyang skids his blades harshly against the ice and is able to steady and support you within his arms.

“You little fucker,” you gripe, lightly punching him in the arm.

He chuckles blithely, “Sorry, but it was kinda funny, you gotta admit.”

You breathe a large huff, which makes you note how your hair is falling over your face after the catastrophe. You’re about to lift your hand to rearrange the strands, but Yangyang beats you to it and is in the midst of tucking them behind your ear.

The knocking in your ears reappears with a vengeance and the physical source of the knocking is thrashing violently against your chest.

Your scorching breaths fuse in the refrigerated rink as Yangyang eliminates the inches of space between, his plush mouth ultimately converging with yours.

You have to constantly remind yourself to breathe under Yangyang’s intensity, and remind yourself that you’re in a public space and shouldn’t be making out like this.

But everyone’s skating around the couple, daring to not disrupt the affectionate display.

God, you don’t know when was the last time you’ve been kissed like this. Have you ever even experienced a kiss that was a fraction of this? Yangyang daintily cups your cheeks like you’re glass, but his lips press ruggedly into yours, inflaming your entirety and melting any existence of your figurative fragility.

You ignore the echo in the back of your mind that reminds you he’s your temporary boyfriend.

The Talk will inevitably occur, but your future self could deal with it. Presently, you’re too caught up, drowning in Yangyang’s embrace.

DECEMBER 24th

On Christmas Eve, Yangyang decides to bring you to an outdoor Christmas market.

Understandably, since it’s the day before Christmas, the place is absolutely packed. For the first fifteen minutes or so, it’s joyous being immersed in the Christmas spirit with the assorted little shops and their respective products. You’re holding Yangyang’s hand tightly, pointing and half-shouting over the bustle about the items that catch your eye.

Unfortunately, someone accidentally bumps against your arms and your hand is gone from his.

Swivelling your head, searching through the crowd, it occurs to you that you officially lost Yangyang.

Your feet come to a halt as your hand attempts to dig into your jacket pocket to pluck your phone out, but the moving crowd forces you to constantly follow the stream.

You yell for him, but words can’t materialize. Your windpipe tightens. Your breath is becoming shallower and shallower. Blood pulses in your ears alarmingly, blocking out the clamour from around you. Your mind’s running everywhere without control.

Where is your boyfriend?

No, scratch that, he’s not your actual boyfriend—where is your best friend?

Did he leave you? He would never.

Right?

But what happens when all of this is over? Will you still have your best friend?

You’ve avoided The Talk long enough, but you didn’t expect to catch feelings for him. Not like this.

Maybe you’re just destined to be alone.

Is this how it feels to actually lose him?

Tears fight your vision. You hear a faint call of your name, but you can’t urge yourself to turn around, sinking only further into the sea of anonymity. You’re just a face in a crowd, all alone, with no one who cares—

Yangyang grasps you by the arm and maneuvers you aside to a less busy area behind one of the vendor stands.

“Oh, God, thought I lost you there—”

You cut him off, hugging him with all your might and stuff your face in his chest cushioned by the downy layers of his winter jacket. Yangyang immediately drapes his arms securely around you, reading your uneasiness.

“Hey, I got you. I got you,” he soothes, running a hand through your hair. “God, not my best idea. Sorry for bringing you here.”

You shake your head, wordlessly informing him that it’s okay. You’re just glad to be with him again.

“Wanna go home?”

You nod solemnly, and Yangyang zips you out of there in minutes with his arm tucked by your side, ensuring he doesn’t lose you in the crowd again.

Fortunately, the jitters mostly disappear when you arrive at your place in the late afternoon. You’re in the middle of rummaging through your keys to unlock your door.

“Sorry I didn’t have anything else planned for today,” he mumbles, leaning with folded arms against the wall.

“Did you...” You insert the correct key and turn the lock, clicking the door open. Your gaze lifts to match his. “Did you wanna maybe have dinner with me tonight? I was thinking of ordering pizza in.”

The grin that reaches his eyes is a sufficient answer for you.

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” He hangs his arm around your shoulder and plants a kiss atop your head.

After chomping down pizza and playing a few rounds of Super Smash Bros. on Yangyang’s Switch, you peer over to him on your living room couch while he’s figuring out which character he should play next.

The little mental voice in the back of your mind prods you, reminding that you should really, really have The Talk soon. The Talk that you swept under the rug at the start by saying you’d play everything by ear.

Four dates later, and the thought of this ending scares the living daylights out of you. This not only including the interim relationship, but the dire possibility of the friendship itself too. Is it possible to go back to how you were, flipping it off like a light switch?

But the internal voice is smothered as you’re drawn to his pouting lips in thought. His pouting, oh-so kissable lips. Following the ice skating kiss yesterday, you only shared a good-bye kiss when he dropped you off. Since then, you’ve been itching to have his lips on yours again.

Yangyang eventually detects your lack of focus and finds you gawking at his mouth. Your gaze dashes to his eyes, blinking innocently, but then his eyes flicker to your mouth.

The tension in the room snaps. You two carefully throw the Switch controllers off to one side and attach yourselves together. Unlike the crashing of your bodies at the ice rink, this one is purposeful. Deliberated, as his forehead presses into yours and his tender caress carries your cheek. Your body plummets backwards until Yangyang pins you completely into the couch.

Initially, the lip-locking is gentle and mild. Your fingers lay in the vicinity of his angular visage and sturdy upper frame, in contrast to his hand curling around your waist in a light squeeze.

Soon, hands traverse to other regions—his back, your thigh, his stomach, your ass. Each touch seeking, craving, whining. Tongues slinking and dancing with appetite. Your bodies buzz for more.

Open-mouthed kisses transition from the damp lips to each other’s necks. The touches dig deeper, thriving with hunger. Your back bows, body curving into his. Grinding ensues and his robust desire is blatant against your own pulsing passion.

“You don’t happen to have any condoms on you, do you?” you groan upwards to the ceiling.

He retracts from your neck to swing his head side to side, grumbling a “Sorry, we can stop...” yet you interrupt his apology by cupping his covered length. The guttural groan he exhales into your lips makes you shiver with pleasure.

“Doesn’t mean we still can’t have fun with our hands...” you say slyly.

“Fuck yeah,” he rasps, smirking, before diving in again to taste your mouth.

Clothes are stripped with the assistance of each other, leaving you with only your bra on while Yangyang opts to be completely bare. He tops your body in the same position once more.

On the couch arm rest, your head is perched with his hand clutching the space next to it for leverage. Both figures are too scatter-brained to delve into the exquisite nudity of one another, hands flying desperately to your respective arousals.

Your pretty fingers wrap around his possession almost exactly when he dips two digits into your warmth. In unison, two sharp, quiet gasps pierce the room.

“Shit, you’re so wet,” he hisses observantly. You’re so overwhelmed by the bliss that you can’t assemble any sort of response.

Your mouth’s parted to one side, chest soaring with each plunge. Through his clouded vision, he ambles over your curves and lines and yearns to see your breasts, but he respects your choice of keeping it on and opts to ambush the expanse with kisses. Your chest is launched further into his mouth and Yangyang assumes you’re enjoying this.

Fearing friction burn, you drop him from your grip momentarily, swiping a few licks over your palm. When your hand pumps him again, now drenched with saliva, grunts reverberate against your skin.

“Yangyang?” you whimper, causing his face to pull away from the temple of your body.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I’m-I’m close.” And he can attest to it; the contractions around him are increasing, harshly squeezing his fingers.

“Same,” he pants.

Your best friend flicks his wrist with ignition, securing your waves of elation. You attempt to do the same, but it’s difficult when he’s also sloppily thrusting himself into your fist, so you simply clench your grasp harder. His features pinch and choppy moans dribble as he yields to his climax, gushing himself over your stomach.

Still sucking in lungfuls of air, Yangyang kisses you tenderly before removing himself to clean up the mess he made.

Following the clean-up, while putting on your clothes, Yangyang expresses how he should get going since it’s getting late.

“Did you wanna stay the night?” you pipe up.

His mind races, debating on whether to leave or not, anxious to blur the lines of your relationship even further.

Sure, he’s your temporary boyfriend, thus staying over at your place shouldn’t mean anything. But this agreement is ending next week, and he’s questioning if you two can stay just friends after this, knowing that he’s going to want more. Yangyang has had a taste of the what if, and it’s now irrevocable.

He wants you all for himself. Selfishly, but deeply.

For the sake of keeping this a great thing for you, he shoves his thoughts aside. This is all about you and for your benefit, anyhow.

“Uh, sure, I can take the couch like I always—”

“Yangyang, you just put your fingers inside of me,” you snicker, snagging him by the hand to your bedroom. “C’mon.”

The rest of the night is relatively chaste with some kisses and touches here and there. Eventually, you fall asleep facing each other with your fingers interlocked, excited for the big day tomorrow.

DECEMBER 25th

Normally on Christmas, Yangyang and you spend it with your respective families, but coincidentally, both of your families, your parents being retired and all, ended up vacationing this year, leaving the two of you to spend it with each other.

After getting up around noon, Yangyang heads to his place to grab his gift. He takes longer than you expected because, as it turns out, he also went home to grab baking goods he bought beforehand since he wants to make butter cookies with you today.

The cookies end up fine, but the mess is another story. Besides the chaos on the counter, your faces and aprons are splotched with flour (you swear he started it, but he disagrees and stands his ground that you’re the perpetrator). With a damp cloth, Yangyang aids you to clean, but not forgetting to wipe your face and giving you pecks over your cheeks and nose.

The baking and aftermath occupies most of the afternoon, so dinner comes in the form of fancy, romantic instant ramen for two. Afterwards, you two sit in your living room and start to exchange gifts.

Yangyang hands his over to you first. From the size of the gift and the crumpled, oddly-shaped wrapping, you already can guess it’s a stuffed plushie of a cute animal to add to your never ending collection. You hug it tightly with a large smile.

“It’s so cute, thank you!” you squeal, but you change your expression in an instant to a serious pout. “But you can’t steal this one like you did with my Ice Bear plushie.”

“Hey, I didn’t steal Ice Bear, I just forgot to give him back.” You roll your eyes sarcastically and he laughs. “I’ll bring him over tomorrow, if it makes you feel better.”

Then, when it’s your turn, you head into your bedroom and come out with a large, white shopping bag. His eyebrows raise, unsure of what could warrant a gift this size.

“For being my holiday boyfriend,” you grin, placing the bag in front of his feet.

Despite the hugest smile on your face, his heart sinks at the label for a second, but he blinks and wills himself to look inside the bag.

His eyes shoot open, so much that you’re scared you might have to stuff them back into his sockets.

Yangyang slips the box out of the bag with precision and stares at it speechlessly.

It’s the new Playstation.

He shifts his eyes toward you. You’re swaying on the couch, pleased by his reaction.

“Your parents paid for most of it, so I can’t take all the credit.” Sticking a finger in the air, you add, “You just gotta promise to share custody with me though—”

A hand behind your head yanks you into a deep kiss. He’s not the only one left speechless on the couch. He places the top of his head against yours.

“You’re crazy, but I love—” He quickly catches himself from saying something he might regret. “—I love it so much, thank you. Now I feel bad for getting you only the stuffed animal...”

You shake your head softly, brushing your thumb against his cheekbone.

“Thank you for everything.” Your eyes twinkle. “I couldn’t have asked to spend the holidays with anyone else.”

Carefully, like a newborn baby, he safely situates the boxed Playstation to one side and nabs your lips with his again. The scene feels like repeat of last night as your bodies wrestle passionately on the couch.

“Not to be presumptuous,” he mutters between the kisses upon your neck. Your eyelids flutter at the sensation. “But I also grabbed condoms from my place when I stopped by.”

His words sends the two of you leaping towards your bedroom. Under the dim lighting, you fall into the bed as Yangyang pares your layers off, one by one. With each peel, his lips roam the revealing bare skin. You swear he has kissed you from your literal head to toe when you’re fully nude in front of him.

Your companion drags his shirt over his head, throws it off to your floor, and immediately targets in onto your nub with his mouth, finally satiating his craving from last night.

Fingers thread into his hair and over his flexed back. His tongue swirls and his teeth lightly tug on your perkiness, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. And he still isn’t even inside you yet.

After leaving love upon your other bosom, Yangyang fumbles with the condom, forgetting which way it should go on. Giggling, you perch yourself onto your elbows and assist him. Rolling it over his possession, you recline yourself back and spread your legs for him.

Pensively, he sticks his tongue out as he adjusts himself between your sex, easing himself into you, and upon the full impact, you meet his gaze head-on. His stare makes you feel vulnerable and exposed beyond the physical plane.

But, unlike the others you have been with, you trust him with everything, like you always have, and be free with him. Losing your inhibitions and submitting to your whims, you entangle and become one with Yangyang.

Behind his hazy vision, Yangyang’s simply thinking how beautiful you are, how he can’t imagine anyone else under his touch but you, how he is willing to give up anything to make you smile.

Well, in this case, he’s willing to give up anything to make you pleased.

However, it doesn’t seem like he needs to do much because you’re howling his name and clinging onto his skin and the sheets in a frenzy, like you’re about to die of exhaustion.

You perish a few times under him before he finally reaches his little death himself, convulsing into the sheath.

When air’s replenished into your bodies, you rest on his chest under your blanket. Glancing up at him, you move some of his tousled hair off his sleek forehead.

“Merry Christmas, Yangyang,” you whisper, snuggling him with a satisfied smile.

“Merry Christmas, babe,” he whispers back, giving you one last peck before you both drift into a deep slumber together.

DECEMBER 26th

Last night took so much out of the both of you, you don’t get out of bed until about the middle of the afternoon. Yangyang doesn’t have anything planned for today since it’s Boxing Day, since the crowds might be crazy wherever you go, so it’s officially a chill, rest day for you both.

When you step out of the shower in fresh clothes, from behind the couch, you watch Yangyang gaming on his Switch.

The little voice in your head looms, prompting that now is the time to have The Talk, and speaks up on your behalf.

“Do we have to end things next week?” you croak.

You see Yangyang’s shoulders stiffen, then he pauses the game and turns around to face you. His gaze follows you as you step closer to the couch, opting to stand.

“Uhm.” His Adam’s apple bobs and he shrugs. “It’s up to you, it’s your—”

“Yangyang, that’s not what I’m asking. I’m asking what you think, how do you feel?”

His lips press together and he’s staring at the floor. You can tell the gears are moving, but you can’t read his expression clearly.

“I’m down for whatever you want to do,” he says slowly, eyes still averting yours.

That’s a I’m-your-best-friend answer, you deduce. Not a I-want-to-be-your-actual-boyfriend answer.

He adds, stuttering, “I mean, I wouldn’t mind doing this a little longer if that’s what you want—”

Your face scrunches in annoyance. “Did you just sign up to be my short-term boyfriend so you can fill my empty heart?”

His eyebrows crease with confusion. “I mean, I never want to see you unhappy.”

“So it’s pity dating then?” you lash, raising your voice.

“No, I—” Yangyang bites down on his tongue, almost letting the one word slip out again. He blows out a lengthy sigh and runs a hand through his hair. “I care about you, so much. I’d do anything to make you happy.”

You’re defining his words as an affirmation of friendship and as an underlying rejection of your love.

You need to know for certain.

“Do you love me, Yangyang?” you blurt. “As more than a friend?”

This is it, Yangyang thinks. This is your chance to let her know how you feel.

But the distress written on your face makes him wonder if he should even go through with it, and it’s intensifying with every passing moment that he’s not speaking.

If only he knew your distress was deepening because you took his hesitance as absolute rejection.

Your heart is breaking because of him, and he technically wasn’t even yours to begin with.

You smack your lips together and gulp a few times, trying to make the huge knot in your throat disappear.

“You know what, maybe let’s just forget this arrangement and leave it all behind and forget about the sex and—”

“You wanna stop this?” he utters quietly.

The word “this” hangs heavy in the air. This, carrying the weight of not only being the temporary agreement, but also your friendship.

“Yeah,” you whisper, tears beginning to blur your eyes. “I think I do.”

DECEMBER 28th

Two days have passed since you last saw Yangyang.

That day before he left, Yangyang, feeling guilty for how events unfolded, wanted to give back the Playstation, but you insisted for him to keep it. In spite of everything, it was a Christmas gift to him from you and his parents.

But both of you weren’t sure if the shared custody promise was going to be held up.

In hopes that things would eventually get better and heal itself, Yangyang thought it’d be best to leave you alone for a while, like how he usually did.

And maybe he was right to do so, but this time is different.

Because he’s on the other end of the stick now; he’s the one who broke your heart.

Under regular circumstances, whenever you needed space, he was always ready to be there by your side.

But Yangyang’s uncertain if you’re going to let him comfort you this time.

And you’re uncertain if you even want him to.

DECEMBER 30th

Today, Yangyang finally makes the move to get in touch with you, texting you to call him, but you don’t, so he leaves a voicemail later in the evening.

“There’s a New Year’s party I’m going to tomorrow,” he starts off, then spews the specific details.

There’s a pause and you hear shuffling in the background. You assume he’s pacing around.

“I know you ended our agreement, but I wouldn’t mind fulfilling my end since New Year’s is the last day tomorrow. I’d be really glad if you came to the party with me, whether it be as my friend or my girlfriend.”

Another pause.

On the other end, Yangyang rubs his palm over his face, considering whether or not he should say it. If you picked up the phone call, he was going to do it anyway, but this just felt improper. He wants to say it when he knows you’re listening in real-time, so he ends off the message with:

“I miss you. So much.”

DECEMBER 31st

It’s 8:40PM. Before Yangyang buses out to the party, he’s back at your front door for one more shot. His fist taps at your door, cognizant that you wouldn’t be elsewhere since your other friends are out of town for the holidays. Despite that, you don’t come to the door. Nevertheless, he speaks to you through the wooden barrier.

“Hey, I know you want to be left alone, but I just wanted to see if you changed your mind about the party.”

Still no answer. He lets out a sigh and prays the following will incite a reaction from you.

“About the question that you asked me that night...”

He closes his eyes and allows his mouth to carry him.

“I do. I do love you. As both my best friend and more. I’m sorry if I hurt you that night by not saying anything, but I love you so much and I think we should give us a shot.”

Still no answer. Yangyang continues.

“Look, I know it’s scary and crazy to date your best friend. I’m scared too, but you know what? I’m okay with being scared. I’ve watched you gone through those assholes over the last few years and maybe you’re scared I’ll end up like one of them, but unlike them, I don’t think you’re horrible or needy or emotional—you’re beautiful, intelligent, and strong for putting up with all those fuckers.”

He leans his forehead gently against the door.

“And even if we ever do break up, and this is a big if because I’ll always try my hardest with you to make it work, I’ll still be your friend. I promise. You won’t lose me ‘cause I need you in my life. I gotta keep my end up for the custody of the Playstation, right?”

A smile breaks over his face from his joke, but still. Radio silence.

“Can you at least say something?” he begs.

After a few minutes, realizing he needs to probably give you more time to be left alone, he departs and heads to the party.

Originally, you actually were planning on attending the party to see Yangyang to make-up with him.

Unfortunately, out of all the days you had to take a late afternoon nap, it had to be today.

And you overslept. Big time.

At 10:55PM, you scramble awake, realizing you’re absolutely late to the event. Since the party’s downtown, you know calling an Uber or Lyft there would be fast, but tonight’s the worst night for any share riding service and there aren’t any available drivers. Thus, you have to manage with busing there.

It’s 11:40PM when you finally reach downtown, but the bus can’t take you all the way to the core centre where the party is; hordes of people are out on the streets and traffic is dreadful. God, you’re going to be cutting it close to midnight, but you make a run for it.

You’re grateful the party is on the second floor of a small building because you slide in right through the entrance at 11:58PM. You rush to call Yangyang’s phone, hoping he’ll pick up as you try to find him in the scattered groups of people.

You begin to holler for him in hopes he can hear you, but the countdown is happening, drowning out your voice. Thirty seconds left until the clock strikes for the new year.

When his number finally goes to voicemail, you redial his number. Suddenly, a hand grasps you by the wrist.

Yangyang looks at you, dumbfounded.

“When did you get here?”

The harmonious chanting around you floods your surroundings.

“Ten, nine, eight...”

Getting closer to him, you practically scream into Yangyang’s face, trusting he’ll hear what you’re about to say.

“I know Christmas is over, but I want to change my wish.”

“Seven, six, five...”

“I know you might not feel the same and I know things might not work out.”

“Four, three, two...”

”But I wish to date you past New Year’s until whenever, however long we last.”

“One...”

“I love you, Yangyang—”

The one you love snatches you by the waist and your cheek, stealing your lips at the last millisecond before midnight.

“Happy New Year!”

A wave of noisemakers, clappers, and hollering erupt around the room. After it dies down a bit, Yangyang shocks you with a scolding.

“Why didn’t you say anything when I came over?!”

Confusion rushes over you. You realize he probably came by when you were sleeping.

“You came over?!”

“Yeah, I confessed my love for you.”

“Wait,” you blink blankly, unsure if you heard him correctly. “Your love?”

“Yeah,” he nods, giving you his cheesy, adorable smile. “I love you.”

“As more than a friend?” you clarify.

“Babe,” Yangyang’s thumb caresses your cheek. “I don’t think I could ever go back to wanting less with you.”

Your lips tremble with relief as your gaze melts in his.

“And, anyway, who else am I going to share the Playstation with?”

“Well, I mean, you do have Hendery, Xiaojun, Winwin...” you start to count his infinite list of friends on your fingers.

“Yeah, but I need you so I can constantly beat your cute little butt at games.”

“You do not constantly beat my cute little butt at games, I’ll have you know that I beat you at—”

Yangyang shuts you up with another kiss, the one of many for the rest of the night.

JANUARY 2nd

It’s your second morning at Yangyang’s place. You’ve only done it a few times now, but you realize that waking up in his arms is one of the greatest feelings in the world, second only to his kisses.

In his bed, spooning you from behind, he grumbles into the nape of your neck, “Morning, girlfriend.”

Half-awake, you mumble back, “Morning, boyfriend,” and sink deeper into the curve of his body.

Content, you finally broke your string of cursed holiday break-ups for good.

And all it took was to be with the one who was in front of you all this time.

2K notes · View notes

holylulusworld · 3 years

Text

Hostile takeover (1)

Title: Hostile takeover

Square Filled for @spnaubingo: Apocalypse AU

Square Filled for @spnabobingo: Leather/Anise/Gunpowder

Square Filled for @spnquotebingo: Quote: (“If I have to choose between one evil and another, then I prefer not to choose at all.” - The Witcher)

Square Filled for @spnmixedbingo: Hiding an injury

Square Filled for @j3bingo: Same presentation pairing

Pairing: Alpha!(Endverse) Dean Winchester x Alpha!(fem) Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester, Endverse!Castiel, Rufus Turner

Warnings: angst, language, violence, a hint of blood, a/b/o, a/b/o territorial behaviour, fighting, scenting, mentions of groping, mentions of sex, Dean is a confused alpha, he’s into the reader even though she’s an alpha, mentions of drugs/group sex (no description and it’s Endverse!Cas)

Summary: An alpha wants to take over your pack.

Word Count: 2,3 k

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Part 1/?

You don’t know how you ended up in the dirt. Hands and face bloody, body aching and at least three ribs broken.

One day another alpha came into your territory, tried to take over leadership, and decided you must step back. He gave you choice, offered to take over your pack peacefully.

How very merciful…

Of course, you didn’t agree. Why would you? No one would give up their pack on free terms. You swore to always protect the men, women, and children trusting you with their lives.

At first, you offered to give him resources and asked him, very politely, to fuck off…

As you can imagine, it didn’t go well. He was the kind of alpha making your skin crawl. Cocky, overly self-confident, scent overwhelming.

Three weeks later he came back, the same offer, the same answer. Only this time, he wanted a fight for dominance.

You agreed, telling your pack to stay back and not step in. Fighting was always your last resort, sadly most of the other alphas out there don’t follow your example.

The alpha agreed to your conditions, knowing you will never take him down.

“Listen, you should just give up,” the alpha lands another punch. This time your legs give in, and you drop to your knees.

He’s strong, you give him that. What he lacks in manners he makes up in strength, speed, and endurance. That alpha attacking you is all you’ll never be.

"This is my pack and I need to defend them," you pant, struggling to get back up. Blood runs down your forehead and you know, one more hit, and you are done for. It almost seems like he hates to hurt you.

"A stronger leader," slowly getting back up on unsteady legs you glance at your pack. They already sniff in your opponent's direction, lowering their heads in submission. "Why?" you can't believe your pack doesn't have your back.

"We are sorry, but we are old and weak. Y/N, we need a strong leader, a merciless one," Rufus says and your heart drops. You always believed he would have your back until the end of the line. "You should give up and leave."

"Leave," unclenching your fists you lower your head, nodding silently. "You win. Why fighting for a pack not having my back? Maybe you are the better choice. You defeated me after all," you fight the sobs bubbling up your throat. “Be good to them, please.”

"I don't want you to leave," the alpha holds out his hand to shake yours, "I'm Dean, Dean Winchester and that's my pack. We have a safe place and I'd like your pack to join us."

"Why? You won and I must go. Those are the rules," he steps closer to press a bandana to your bleeding forehead, looking you all over. “What are you doing?”

"This wasn't about winning, alpha," he uses your presentation on purpose, shows you respect. "I want to strengthen my pack and with you by my side, it will get stronger."

"OH—" you can’t fathom why the alpha wants to keep your around. “It’s just, you won. Shouldn’t you celebrate your win? Every other alpha would do so.”

“Well, sweetheart,” he checks on your swollen face, wincing when you flinch away, “I’m not like any other alpha. If you want to, you can stay and help me protect our pack.”

“I took over the lead as they were desperate. No alpha was strong enough to help the pack and their alpha died in yet another fight. Sadly, the alpha killing their leader wasn’t interested in the pack. He only took two young omegas with him and left Rufus and the others.”

“Sonofabitch, that bastard shouldn’t be allowed to call himself an alpha,” you press one hand to your ribs, examining your broken body while the alpha steps closer to you.

You flinch away, try to bring distance between you and your opponent. “You won and I will leave—” voice cracking you look up at the much taller alpha. “Just take good care of my pack.” it’s the least thing you can do for your pack. Leave and beg the new pack leader to shelter them.

“Fine,” he steps into your personal space, looking down at you, eyes shade of dark emerald now.

“I’ll pack all my belongings and will be gone,” his teeth grit and you shriek when he’s in your face seconds later.

“If you don’t stay on free terms, I will make sure you will not leave. I won, that’s right and this means I can do whatever I want,” you feel his hand grasp for your left arm. He roughly shoves you toward one of the cars, ignoring you whimper in pain. “Get inside my car and be still.”

“Cas, make sure the others pack their shit. You—” jerking his head toward Rufus Dean grins, “wanted her gone so you will pack her shit too.”

“I didn’t want her gone, only to not get herself killed to protect us,” Rufus grumbles, watching you wobble toward the car. “She fought too many battles for us. Y/N deserves better.”

You almost dozed off when the alpha defeating you enters the car, slamming the door shut. “Morning princess,” he smirks when you jolt up in your seat.

A wave of his scent hits you with full force and you shudder, hating the alpha dominates even your sensitive nose.

“It’s leather and gunpowder, sweetheart,” he looks you up and down, frowning when you move away from him. “At least that’s what the omegas told me.”

“What?” confused you look at the alpha. Not so long ago he tried to kill you, threatened your life and now, he seems to flirt with you.

“My scent,” he says, starting the engine to let it roar. “The omegas like the mix of leather and gunpowder. Makes them all tingly and wet.”

”I still don’t know what you try to tell me,” you glare at the alpha, squaring your jaw. “You know that I’m an alpha too, right?”

“I know,” he sniffs in your direction, inhales your scent deeply. “Anis and chamomile, and there is lilac too. We should head out; the camp is a little far away from this place. It’s a miracle you made it for so long.”

“We tried to find a new place,” you mutter, glancing out of the window when someone opens the door to the backseat.

“Everyone is ready, Dean,” a tall guy says, glancing at you in the passenger seat. “We should go. Cas said more Croats are on their way. I think this was last minute.”

“What can I say?” Dean shrugs, looking at you next to him. “Their alpha was a stubborn little princess. She refused to follow my lead and I had to put her in her place.”

“I’m not a princess,” growling at the alpha you ball your hands into fists. “And I didn’t want to follow you as I do not trust you.”

“I gave you choice,” he muses, watching you make a face. “You could’ve stepped down and let me take over your pack without violence. There was no need to get hurt.”

“If I have to choose between one evil and another, then I prefer not to choose at all,” you retort, huffing when Dean shakes his head.

“I hate to break it for you, sweetheart, but you chose,” Dean grins before guiding the car onto the old street you know so well. “Your camp, it wouldn’t have made it for much longer. Believe me, I was your best choice.”

“I didn’t choose you, asshat,” crossing your arms over your chest, hiding the pain shoot through your body when you shift in your seat you snap at Dean. “This was my pack, and I would’ve defended them.”

“Against an army of Croats,” the man in the backseat huffs. “I doubt that.” You don’t like the guy, so you growl at him. “Dean, why did you bring her again?”

“I have—” Dean hits the breaks when a Croat storms toward the car. “Fuck, they are already here. That’s one of their scouts,” he jumps out of the car to shoot the Croat, looking around the area to find out if there are more to come. “Sammy, we gotta go. He won’t be the only one…”

“See, that’s why we had to bring you here,” Dean paces around the cabin he brought you to. “Did you see the Croats? They would’ve overrun you and your pack.”

“Just leave me alone, will ya,” you hiss while running one hand over your bruised ribs. “You are giving me a headache here. Can you not just enjoy you were right and defeated me? Do you need me to stroke your ego?”

“What’s wrong with you?” he steps closer to you, pushing your hand out of his way to check on your ribs. “Fuck, you’ve got at least two—” he moves his hand over your ribs again, shaking his head, “no three broken ribs. Why didn’t you say a thing?”

“Didn’t think you care,” biting your tongue you try to suppress a whimper when Dean lifts your shirt. “Don’t touch me!” you try to slap his hand away but he growls and you submit to him, tilting your head.

“I won’t hurt you, Y/N. You fought like an alpha and took your defeat like one,” he murmurs, carefully running his fingertips over your broken ribs. “I’ll tell Cas to help you bandage your ribs and to check on you for more injuries. Never hide an injury from me again, got it?” he breathes in your face, eyes narrowing.

“Got it!” Dean makes it hard for you to hate him. After he defeated your sorry ass, he treated you like an equal, and, to your shame, you have to admit he was right. Croats would’ve killed all of your pack. “Where can I sleep?”

“My place,” he grunts, dropping his hand. “I’ll be out and take care of—” he shakes his head in confusion. “I need to release some steam.”

“Okay,” there is a change in the air when Dean storms out of the cabin to slam the door shut. “Odd…”

“I mean, she’s a fucking alpha Sammy,” Dean paces back and front, frantically gesturing toward his cabin, “still I want to rail her like there is no tomorrow. I—I only agreed to that stupid fight to force her to submit to me, but...”

“She’s not an omega?” Sam smirks, watching his brother move closer to his cabin again. “I heard of bonds among alphas, Dean. It’s not uncommon, you know.”

“But—” his head snaps toward his cabin as Castiel leaves his cabin. “Cas, how is Y/N? Did I cause more damage? I mean, is she alright?”

“I fixed her ribs and taped her eye. She got a bruised ego but should be alright. Just make sure she doesn’t move too much or lifts heavy stuff,” the former angel says, giving Dean a stern look. “If you wanted to impress her, you could’ve chosen a better way, a less painful one.”

“Gosh, don’t give me that new age crap again, Cas,” Dean waves his friend off, grumbling under his breath. “I gotta check on her myself and make sure that stubborn alpha gets the rules.”

“Remember she’s not an omega, Dean,” Sam laughs. “Just saying, don’t give her orders. Y/N is an alpha, a strong one.”

“How do you feel?” he asks, stepping back inside the cabin, looking at you. “Cas said he bandaged your ribs.”

“That pervert tried to feel me up,” glaring at Dean you dare him to try the same. “I guess he forgot to tell you I backhanded him.”

“Cas is,” Dean laughs, shaking his head. “You must know, he was an angel before the world ended. Now he’s into new age and group sex, massages, and half of the time I find him high on something I can’t even spell.”

“That’s no excuse for groping me, alpha,” you step toward Dean to jab your index finger into his chest. “It’s your job to make rules and protect your pack. Good thing I’m not a submissive omega.”

“Wait, he would never—,” Dean swallows thickly. “I will talk to him tomorrow and tell him it’s not okay to touch or grope anyone.

“You should see your face,” you smirk, holding back a chuckle when Dean tries to find a way to make things up to you. “If you want to be the alpha of our pack you should learn to see through a lie.”

“Sonofabitch, you tricked me. I was close to yell at my friend. That’s not funny and against the rules…”

“Rules #25, this place is mine, but you can have the spare bed if you can behave. There will be no omegas in here or something,” Dean explains whilst you try to keep your eyes open. You lie on the spare bed to shelter your broken ribs. “We have no spare cabin at this moment, so we will share mine.”

“Why can’t I share with one of the women,” lifting your head you frown at Dean’s angry expresssion.

“You will not touch the omegas, Y/N,” he exhales deeply. “No mating our omegas!”

“I’m not into women, asshat,” you retort, “I think I’ll have a closer look at your brother when I feel better. I bet he knows how to handle a female alpha.”

“What? NO WAY!” the alpha growls. “You will not lay hands on my baby brother. If anyone gets his hands on you it’s me!” Dean bites his tongue, stepping backward, shaking his head.

“What?” you squeak. “Did you just say that?”

Dean runs toward the door, groaning your name. “What are you doing to me?”

>> Part 2

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shinkun · 4 years

Text

bloom: part 1/2 (18+)

aizawa shouta | eraserhead x student!reader

[ read part 2 here ]

word count: 3.4k

genre: alpha/omega, omegaverse, m/f, afab reader, student/teacher, smut with little plot

A late-blooming student finds herself trapped in the school, yearning for someone to ease her unfamiliar, painful urges.

warnings: 18+, smut, oral, fingering, cunnilingus

notes: Hello, just as a warning, this is my first time in many years posting any written work so I'm pretty rusty and self-conscious about it (please be gentle!) Also - my first time doing any form of a/b/o, so I hope it's okay!

Aizawa just released something feral in me that made me want to write a lengthy, lusty fiction about him.

This is Part 1 of 2 of this fiction. I wanted to see if there was any reception or interest in this piece before sharing the final part.

All characters are 18+. Reader is a mature student presumably finishing her final semester of school, or attending an extra year.

Anyway, please enjoy!

- - - - -

Aizawa gave a hefty groan, pinching the skin on the bridge of his nose. A nagging stress entered the back of his mind as he proceeded to the opposite side of the door.

When your classmate had cornered him in his office earlier, wailing about how “Y/N doesn’t want to come out! She said she feels too sick to go to practice!” He already knew what he was in for.

“Alright, I’ll go see what's wrong…” Aizawa nonchalantly replied, waving the boy away. “Go outside and start without her.” He commanded, not letting him get another word in. The student gave a compliant but nervous nod before exiting the room.

The professor let out a sigh, perking his ear up to the door. He hesitantly raised his knuckles up to the surface, knocking on it with little force, but enough that it could be heard from the other side. He held his breath for a moment. A sweet, tantalizing scent crept from beneath the barrier between him and his student.

“Don’t come in!!” Shouted a voice laced with panic in reply to the knock.

“Don’t worry, it’s me.” Aizawa said, lowering his palm to the handle of the locker room. He didn’t need to speak his name for you to know. He was patient, letting you bask in the silence for a moment. The scent emitting from the room made a couple beads of sweat roll down the back of his neck, but he was able to shake it off.

“I can’t let you.. see me like this…” Your tone was shaky and barely audible, but he’d caught it.

“I can help you.” He persisted to push the handle downward.

The bond you’d grown with your teacher in your three years at UA was strong and trusting. You knew that any advice he was willing to offer you would be right. He was always right. You were happy to have a mentor so willing to sacrifice his time and listen to you when you needed it, and this was no exception.

Aizawa delicately pushed the door open, only an inch into it before the odor was able to escape, already knocking him back; angelic, rosey scents filling his nostrils. Saliva pooled underneath the back of his tongue as he took the fragrance in. He shut his eyes and let out another soft huff before propping the door open with one foot. He could sense your panic rising as he shuffled forward.

“...I promise you’ll be okay.” He assured you, his hand curling around the frame. He continued to stay cautious and non-threatening, making sure you had enough time to prepare for his entry.

“I don’t want you to see me so..” you hesitated, attempting to stiffen a cry building up in your throat, “..weak.” The word rolled off your tongue like it was filth.

Aizawa entered the room, seemingly unphased by the aura of hormones that was now engulfing him. He gently let the door slide closed behind him, carefully locking it for any students that dared to interrupt them. A small but caring smirk graced his face as he looked before him.

He saw you curled up in the back corner of the changeroom, sitting on a bench with your knees tucked into your chest. You held the bunched up top to your gym uniform, hugging it to the flushed skin of your torso for safety, your chest covered only by a tightly binding sports bra. You sunk your head down, trying not to make eye contact with the teacher as he proceeded forward. He gingerly perched himself on the bench next to you, leaving a comfortable amount of space, before bending forward to look at you.

“Hey..” His hair curtained around his face as he leaned forward, softly cupping the opposite side of your face in his hand. He pulled your head over to look at him. The unexpected touch made you squirm, squeezing your eyes closed, but you refused to fight his caress. “You’re the strongest person I know.” His thumb massaged your cheek up and down. Your bottom lip quivered, still attempting to fight the surge of emotions that were coursing through you as you finally met his gaze. Your eyes brimming with tears, making your vision blurry, as you continued to choke them back. It was simple, but his words meant a lot.

You and him both knew that you had a complicated relationship with your femininity. You saw it as a burden, getting in the way from people taking you seriously. You blocked it out in any way you could, to reflect a more intimidating, headstrong persona. Focusing on close-combat studies and fighting techniques, convincing the staff to let you wear the boy’s uniform, attending all the extra curricular sporting events - the reason you were even here on a weekend to begin with. It wasn’t just a means of coming off as adrogynous though, you genuinely enjoyed these things.

“How can I be strong if I’m...” You looked away, afraid that admitting you were an Omega out loud would somehow make it worse. You didn’t want to come to terms with it.

“...C’mere kid.” He removed his hand from your face while straightening up, leaning his back against the wall behind him. His arm raised, placing it on your shoulder to pull you into his chest for a gentle embrace.

You’d been close to Aizawa before, but never anything like this. Playful jabs here and there, sarcastic shoves in the hallway, there was even that time he had to step in to use his binding cloth to stop you from beating on some punk that made fun of your quirk - but this tender feeling he was sharing was a whole new territory.

You took it in, allowing some of the pent up tears to escape from your eyes. A quiet sob forced itself out of your throat, your body vibrating with each cry. Aizawa rubbed your back, slowly, carefully, letting you bask in the feelings. The fear that you had reverberated throughout the room was beginning to subside, and he could tell. You laid against the man in silence for a moment, the heavy thumping of his heart lulling your anxieties. You breathed in gradually, putting your sniveling to rest, but as you did, you noticed something off.

A flush of red emanated from your face as your nose raised slightly gravitating toward Aizawa’s head. A waft of strong musk filled your senses. It was savory, and heavy, and…“Hnghh.” A breathy sigh escaped your mouth as your hand gripped the fabric of the teacher’s shirt. You had little control over your next movement, stretching forward to nuzzle your face against his neck, taking in as much of the aroma as you could. Now that you’d let your defenses down, Aizawa's dominant atmosphere was beginning to encapsulate you.

“Whoa there.” He let out a chuckle but continued to let you explore, eventually expecting this kind of reaction to his presence. He gracefully shifted his hand, placing it above your hip, both to keep you stable as you moved, and to give him the pleasure of being able to embrace the smooth, supple flesh.

“I’m...sorry..” You said, beginning to retreat from him as the realisation of what you were doing began to sink in. “Oh, oh no.. I’m sorry..!” Your heart fluttered as you pulled back to your safe spot on the bench.

He gave his head a shake and continued to give you your space. “No need to be sorry.” He assured you, scratching the back of his head. His voice was tender and dreamy to your ears, it sent goosebumps down your arms. Suddenly sitting in a lecture just to listen to your teacher’s dark, gritty voice rant about hero politics sounded appealing. Admittedly this brief embrace made the resistance to act on his urges much harder than before, but he persisted.

Suddenly you let out an aching gasp. You pulled your body toward yourself, your arm reaching around your abdomen as you felt that intense pressure building up inside your gut again, tinges of pain and aching threatening your core. You’d felt this earlier when you had the room to yourself. It made you hot, your breath beginning to pick up as your body reeled in a feverish sweat. You didn’t want him to see you like this and now that your guard was down, it was taking control.

“Hurt…. it hu..rts..” You managed to spit out. Shouta cocked his head to the side.

“Is this your first time..?” He planted his hand on your back once more, making sure you knew his company was welcoming. All you could do was let out a quick nod. You squeezed your legs together, feeling an intense heat present itself in your center, your gasps becoming more hefty and impossible to contain.

“Wow, a late bloomer.” Aizawa strategically pondered for a moment, “Well, I should go inform Recovery Girl of how you’r-”

“..No!” You cut him off before he could finish, a tremble in your voice. “Please, can you...” Embarrassment took over causing your speech to trail off, your arm shakely reaching out and clenching around the sleeve beside his hand. Your desires were continuing to take hold and Aizawa’s scent was becoming more and more irresistible as time went on, “..can you help me?”

The edge of his mouth curled up into a smile, disguising itself behind his shield of dark locks. Just as he’d expected.

Now, this wasn’t his first time dealing with a student in heat. Although the population of Omegas was on the lower side, there had been a few students in his years of teaching that had to get medicated and sent home for a few days to deal with their inflamed, unpredictable hormones. And professors, especially Alpha professors, were instructed on the responsibility of containing those natural urges and how to offer students help when they were in their most vulnerable state.

He did genuinely want to help. Seeing your pleas to get rid of this nasty heat made his heart ache and he didn’t want to deny you the option for any outside aid, but he knew you would place trust in him and he was willing to offer it.

Without answering Aizawa leaned forward. He curled his other hand up behind your head, letting his fingers trail through your hair to embrace your scalp. Immediately a shiver fell down your spine as he bent over you; first planting a kiss on your forehead, then he trailed downward, peppering a couple kisses on your tear-stained cheek. The weight of your head cradled into his hand as he continued, his mouth trailing down the length of your neck, his tongue messaging down the length of your skin. Your breathing increased as you let out a cute whimper, your core pulsated. He then paused just above your shoulder, letting in a deep inhale. Your scent was enchanting, sweet, and made his head spin. He dared to let his teeth graze that special spot, smirked, and then placed one final peck there before abruptly pushing his mouth against yours. You immediately felt a rush of heat rise into your stomach as his lips collided with yours. They were so soft and experienced, but juxtaposed by the rough facial hair that scraped against your chin.

Even though it was you who’d requested it, you were having a tough time wrapping your head around the order of events that lead you here. Finding it difficult to reciprocate the kiss, he began to ease his tongue inside your mouth. Your eyebrows raised, but eyes remaining sealed shut as the twitching muscle explored your mouth, the roughness of his flesh against yours causing you to feel slick drip between your thighs.

You pulled your mouth away releasing an overwhelmed heave, a string of saliva still leaving you connected to the man.

His eyes furrowed, a worrying expression plastered his face making sure you were okay.

“..I forgot to...breathe.” A rosy tint burned your cheeks before you both let out a small chuckle that eased the tension. He then placed his forehead against yours.

“Keep going..?” At this point he was probably too far gone but he thought he’d at least give you the false sense of reassurance.

Despite the flustering heat that Aizawa stirred into you from his kisses, the pain in your curve was urging on to the point of becoming unbearable. Your hands trembled but quickly grabbed his chest to pull him back into the embrace. He took this as a ‘yes’ and fell back into the deep kiss, proceeding to cup his hand around your left breast. He kneaded the bosom in his hand before trailing his mouth down your neck once again, this time pulling and suckling at the skin, leaving playful little bites - but not enough to bruise. His hands trailed down to the edge of your bra. You bit down on your lip as he yanked it upward and over your head.

A nearly inaudible “Wow..” escaped from his mouth as he leaned back to take your figure in, not sure if it was meant for your ears to hear. Your defenseless upper half was paler than usual and coated with a perspiring sheen due to your sickly urges.

“Don’t stare..” You grumbled, refusing to meet his eyes as his hand regained its place against your chest. He was shocked you were able to contain them within the bounds of a thin fabriced sports bra all the time, let alone while they were aching and swelling from your heat. You did a very good job of keeping it that way.

He smirked once more before lowering his head, taking the erect pink bud between his lips, lapping his tongue over it again and again. You shuddered as he sucked it into his mouth, his opposite hand fondling the other. But no matter how much he kissed and caressed your shivering body, it wasn’t satisfying the heavy hunger sweltering in the pits of your core. “Please..” You whined above his head, frustratingly clenching your fingers into your palms, “Mister Aizawa, please...I can’t wait anymore.”

Aizawa pulled his mouth away, nuzzling his face between your chest for just a moment before raising back up.

“Soon.” He simply but firmly stated, pulling his binding cloth above his head and tossing it to the floor, making sure it wouldn’t get in the way.

He then bent down, wrapping his arm around the calves of your legs and pulling them onto the wide bench. He moved his own leg over the opposite side of the bench so that it was now in between him.

“Now,” he looked as you impatiently quivered, trailing his intense stare down your body, “What’s the damage?” You let out an offended huff at his wording, but held your complaints in. You figured any sort of noncompliance would lead you to a one-way trip to the medic.

Shouta really didn’t need to ask, but your fluster enticed him even more. The bottoms of your navy gym uniform had a dark patch stained through them long before the moment he’d entered, by this point it had traveled down your legs.

“Looks like we’re gonna have to find you another pair of those, huh?” He reached forward tracing his hands around the edges of the waistband before pulling the sweats down. You shifted as it tickled your sides. He then tossed them to the floor alongside his equipment.

Your hands reached up to cover your face as his gaze pierced through you. No matter how desperate you were to get some relief, you still couldn’t get past the vulnerability of being sprawled out in front of him like this, let alone, someone actually known for having a deeply intimidating stare.

He tenderly pulled one of your hands away, taking it in his own. This was the first time you’d really noticed how big his were in comparison, cupping around your delicate digits. He closed his eyes, leaving a few tender kisses inside your palm before deeply inhaling the aroma radiating from your wrist. He let it go and looked back, his palms now resting on your thighs, pushing them apart with a surprising amount of ease. You aligned yourself on the bench, propping your back against the wall.

Aizawa bowed over your lower half, leaning into the heat pulsating between your legs. He hadn’t even touched you before your heart began to race, your breath trailing close behind. Your anticipation for him made his heart melt but he couldn’t resist dragging this out for as long as he could. He wanted to make your first heat special for you - memorable - even.

It wasn’t long before Aizawa’s mouth was trailing up the length of your leg. The closer he got, the more unbearably hard it was to not just let his primal instincts take over and ravage your pretty, little entrance with his aching cock. No, Aizawa. He cursed at himself for even thinking that.

Shouta’s tongue danced up your thigh before hitting the edge of your drenched panties. He left soft little nips with his teeth in your thigh, leaving you breathless, before kissing the fabric. He nudged his nose against the surface of it, prodding your sensitive core before letting his tongue fall down its length, intentionally heaving his hot, eager breath against you. You let out a loud gasp that left you clutching your mouth. He smiled once more before taking the edges of the fabric between his fingers and pulling them down, finally revealing your throbbing, leaking pussy.

“Oh, sweetheart…” He sighed into you, sharing a few more kisses before sliding his tongue through those tender, pink folds. You cocked your head back gently scooching your hips towards him, your humiliation suddenly masked by your intense lust for the man.

Aizawa took in all the senses surrounding him. The delightful squeaks you made as he trailed his muscle along your slit, the delicious distinctly omega flavours that drenched his mouth, the way you convulsed and your knees buckled every time he slid his lips or nose against your sensitive, budding clit. He then pulled your legs over his shoulders, giving him more leverage to dive into you.

You reached your hand out as your gasps deepened, he looked up from you inquisitively before reaching his out in return. You laced your fingers between his, yearning for that simple grasp. You held on to it as a form of security, giving soft squeezes to the man every time it was too intense, or a loving stroke of your thumb against his skin when it was just right.

He narrowed his focus back on you, slowly bringing his other hand to your slit. While his tongue massaged your pulsating pearl, he sank two fingers deep inside your entrance. Unsurprisingly your hole was ready and more than willing to accept them. The amount of slick you’d produced was evident enough. You bit down on your lip and let out a whimper as he now began pumping you with his fingers alongside his mouth, your natural lubricant gliding down his hand.

Earlier you’d tried doing the same, attempting to satisfy your intense craving with masturbation alone, but it was never enough. Nothing felt like enough. But Aizawa’s fingers reached parts that you couldn’t, curling and prodding that sensitive area, hiding toward your stomach.

“God..” Your eyes rolled back as you bucked yourself against him, but you still yearned for more. “S...Sensei..” He could see you getting close, your little hand clenching in his own as he rhythmically persisted, your breaths more shaky and sporadic. “Shou..ta..!!” He loved the way his name rolled off your tongue, his cock twitching against his leg from the sound of it. He pulled his hand back and plunged his long fingers even harder and more vigorously, this time including a third. You let out a little shriek while he basically drowned amongst your tiny folds, his fingers driving into you at a steady cadence. He felt as your plush, sensitive walls tightened around his dexterous touch, quivering as you climaxed before him.

You gulped hard trying to let your mind catch up to your body, releasing a steady pant.

“That was great, kitten.” He gave your thigh one last kiss before raising up. “...You did so well.”

2K notes · View notes

baku-bowl · 3 years

Text

broke 1,000 followers (the fuck? I don't even make content people), so decided to write up a list of some (but not all, I'll make other lists later) of my favorite Bakugou-centric fic recs. my tastes run towards hurt/comfort, as you'll probably figure from the list. if there are some Baku-centric fics that you've enjoyed that aren't on here, please add them - this is definitely not a complete list of the ones I've read and love, but I'm always up for some recs. <3

fair warning, most of these are wips.

------------------------------------------------

Social Media 101 by WindsChild8178

Part 1: Survival Guide to Fucking Up

[Solely Bakugou’s point of view]

Katsuki Bakugou doesn’t have a gentle bone in his body. He’s aggressive in everything he does and does everything with 100% of his heart in it. After the Sport’s Festival, Katsuki starts to get harassed by strangers for his unheroic demeanor. It starts with letters but it doesn’t end there. The moment Katsuki realizes the harassment has entered dangerous territory and he needs to tell someone, it’s already too late.

Part 2: Post Traumatic Life Disorder

[Point of View opens up to Bakugou, teachers and classmates]

When the Dorms are finally built, everyone is settling in well, but things become tense as people begin to realize something isn’t right with the recently rescued Bakugou.

[Cannon compliant right up to after the License Exam]

hands down my favorite fic in the fandom right now. it’s the one that converted me into a Bakugou lover. if you have any fondness for Bakugou as a character then it’s likely you’ve read this one already, but if not, I can’t recommend it enough. incredibly depressing, but with the hope that comfort is coming soon in the next few chapters.

The Kids Will Be Alright, Eventually by NotWithThatAttitude

Bakugou is spiraling in the aftermath of Kamino and his friends are starting to notice. He's stubborn, aggressively independent, and less than willing to dig into his past, but after a breakdown that ends with a painful secret revealed, he starts to get help.

Whether he likes it or not.

Meanwhile, a new kind of villain threatens an uneasy peace following the loss of Allmight. Whispers build as a new narrative slowly takes shape:

Hero society needs to change.

Feat. Therapy, Dadzawa, best boy Kirishima, dysfunctional families, healing, growing up, and the mortifying ordeal of being known

guys.. the medical accuracy of this fic is just... *chef’s kiss*

I rarely see mental health genuinely handled well in fics, but this one goes above and beyond. kudos to the author for doing such excellent research into psychology, and making the application of it in here not-boring. also, while this one does have abusive!Mitsuki, it’s done in a way that feels realistic, and how I usually will see it occur in real life, rather than just for the hurt/comfort feels.

fair warning, the fic can be incredibly triggering (themes of severe depression, PTSD, panic attacks, rape survival, abuse survival, suicidal ideation/attempted suicide, among other things), so be safe and heed the tw’s if you decide to read. legitimately one of my Top Favorite fics in this fandom.

Lock and Key by autochorystalize

Bakugou made a choked, gravelly noise before croaking out a low, “You can’t be serious.” His fingers ached to blow up everything in the room.

“I’m sorry, young man, but you can’t change reality! This sometimes happens.” Recovery Girl clicked through his file, adding a new symbol in a previously empty slot.

- - -

A pair of eyes discreetly locked on to an explosive blond plowing his way forward, parting people in his path. He recognized the kid, of course. Anyone in the underbelly of society would recognize him, after the publicity of both UA’s Sports Festival and the events leading up to All Might’s fall. The uniform he was wearing cast away any doubts about the young man’s identity.

It was a bit of a surprise that the little firecracker presented as an omega.

- - - - - - - - -

Or: there are certain types of evil that seemed too distant, archaic violations and perversions that would never actually threaten bright-eyed heroes-in-training in the clean, modern world...but sometimes those evils aren't as distant as one might think.

remember when I said that I love a/b/o fics that are full of plot and world-building and gender-induced tension? that’s this one. the OC’s are fabulous and you love to hate ‘em. also, it’s the fic that made me fall head-over-heels for the TodoBaku dynamic, so it’s got a special place in my cold, dead heart.

be warned, there are rather explicit non-con scenes between an adult (OC) and a minor (Bakugou) in this one, but the author warns for them in advance, and you could likely skip those parts without missing too much if you need to.

Never and Always, Eventually by Wawa_Boonliang

"Katsuki can remember the exact moment that he and Deku…that he and Midoriya Izuku became friends. He can also remember the moment he and Izuku became fierce rivals, a time when they were almost enemies.

However, what he remembers most clearly about their relationship is the moment that they moved passed rivals and became something more close than mere friends. Something more like brotherhood, something forged in fire and secured in the middle of a battlefield or in the midst of natural disaster where the number of the dead was climbing ever higher. And then it was torn from him."

Katsuki is given a second chance. A chance to save everyone. A chance to change everything.

But should he?

y’all. I’m a slutty, slutty whore for time travel fics. a time travel fic with autistic!coded Bakugou? it was love at first read.

Lessons Learned by Sif (Rosae)

Rather than the police station, Katsuki's friends bring him to a hospital after rescuing him from the villains. His wounds were minor, but it didn't make having them treated any less important. As it would so happen, Best Jeanist was also brought to this hospital after the attack.

Sometimes, small choices have a big impact on how a story plays out.

classic Bakugou hurt/comfort. this fic opened me up to the potential that could be a genuinely good Best Jeanist & Katsuki mentor-mentee relationship, and I kind of dig it and search ravenously for it in other fics now. I’m also a huge fan of the behind-the-scences Pro Hero Chat group.

Slope by sunfleurmoon

“I’m not a hero. Or a good person,” Katsuki says, giving Aizawa a pointed look, “So leave me alone. I don’t care about the League or UA, or you—” The two years he’s been away have been fine, more than fine, fucking fantastic actually if you ignore the bi-monthly near-death experiences. He doesn’t need this place. He doesn’t miss this place.

And yet, longing, a childish desire to tear up, or maybe blow something to bits, they all twist in his chest like a band of traitors regardless. “—I just want to go home.”

Or: the one where Katsuki and Izuku fail the first term exam, Aizawa discovers their pasts, and Katsuki is booted from UA. Featuring questionable descriptions of villain organizations, a slightly illegal moving shop, and your favorite emotionally constipated badass in distress with a newly discovered penchant for collecting strays.

paaaaaaiiiiiiiin. the hurt is ALIVE in this one. lots of tortured, angsty exploding child goodness. the OC’s are excellently crafted, and the Bakugou & Eri relationship? beautiful. definitely deserves a read.

Ground Zero by WindsChild8178

In the wake of Kamino, Katsuki is tested more than anyone could imagine. Bound by a villain’s quirk to keep his silence or die, he lives each day knowing it might very well be his last. He continues to work towards becoming a hero, keeping his secret from his classmates and teachers, focusing on making it through each day and trying not to allow the panic or depression to get the best of him. When the villain finally corners him with demands in exchange for his life, there is really only one answer Katsuki Bakugou can give.

honestly don't know which I want updated more - social media 101 or ground zero. this author's fics are amazing, and I really wasn't expecting the twist in this one. can't wait for windschild to come back to this fic some day.

The Defect by LadyGreenFrisbee

"Why do you want to win the Sports Festival so badly?"

Because I want to see if the defect could usurp the masterpiece.

(In which Endeavor holds a terrible secret and Bakugo has to suffer since childhood for it.)

a great concept, and I adore the shouto and Katsuki sibling interaction here. hoping the author will come back to this one some day.

A Name That You'll Remember by Heronfem

Kirishima Eijirou is a Hero. Bakugou Katsuki... is not. Trapped in his toxic workplace and increasingly desperate to get out, Red Riot's days are only brightened by a new villain known as Caution, who's not exactly villainous and keeps accidentally doing good deeds. But when a real villain appears, a threat from the past that demands that Red Riot make the ultimate sacrifice to keep the public safe, Bakugou is forced into saving the day... and eventually, Red Riot himself.

sob story good guy villains are my weakness, this fic is a gem, and I'd kill for the sequel.

Our Hero by AnonymousTwit

He felt everything jerk to the side and throw his balance off before he saw anything, dust clouding his vision and irritating his lungs as the earth itself opened up to swallow them whole. For a single moment, in a millisecond's time, his wild eyes locked with Raccoon Eyes', hers alight with fear and adrenaline-fueled desperation. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that it was the first time she'd looked at him with something other than long-deserved hatred in days.

And then he was free falling.

After a particularly nasty encounter between childhood friends, the class learns about Bakugou and Midoriya's dark history and practically ostracizes Bakugou while trying to defend Midoriya. An earthquake during an outing has all sides regretting their decisions.

just fucking tear apart my self-sacrificing faves in every way imaginable while their loved ones watch on in terror. 💖🥰💖 this one is heavy on the Bakusquad and Class-1A feels, and VERY heavy on the Mina & Bakugou relationship (platonic).

Running back the tape, watching it replay by Faralyne

For someone ripped from their time, ripped from the few but strong relationships built by time and personal development, by self-reflection and swallowed pride, ripped from the one thing that made him feel worthwhile and needed and put-together, and forced to forge everything over again—Katsuki thinks he is handling it pretty fucking well.

A villain’s quirk sends a 29-year-old Bakugou back in time to his middle school days.

am I a sucker for time travel? yes. am I a sucker for vigilante!bakugou? also yes. am I a sucker for this fic? literally refreshing the page in wait for an update as we speak.

Liability by sandelf

After All-Might dies rescuing Bakugou from the League, Bakugou is determined to prove it wasn't for nothing.

But the world is against him, his grief is overwhelming, and his stability is splitting at the edges.

very self-indulgent bakugou angst. tw for harassment, severe depression, and suicidality.

Special Mentions:

How To Win The Sport Festival: A Step By Step Guide by mhwright

Short re-imagining of the Sports Festival Arc if Shinso had planned a little better and worked a little harder to win the Sports Festival and if the match-ups had been slightly different. Self-indulgent fic of watching him succeed.

this is completely Shinsou-centric, not Bakugou-centric, but I love and adore it and am dying for a sequel. Shinsou is Best Boy here and you'll be rooting for him the whole time.

#fic rec #katsuki bakugou #bakugou #seriously though if you have a rec for me please always assume i will be unbearably grateful for it #and hit me up with it in the comments or through messaging #thanks for the follows y'all!

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albertasunrise · 3 years

Text

Just Another Conquest - Part 2

Masterlist

Warnings: You were sweet, innocent and completely infatuated with Javier Peña. After an incident at the Christmas party, you become the talk of the secretary's at the embassy and everything starts falling around you.

Pairings: Javier Peña x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of abortions, Mentions of Miscarriage.

Notes: Still a few touchy subjects in this chapter.

Part 1

You lay there waiting for the procedure to start, heart in your throat as you desperately tried to avoid his gaze. You weren’t sure why Javier wanted to be there for it, why he’d refused to leave your side since he’d found out you were in the hospital. You guessed he felt guilty, after all, he was the one that had gotten you into this mess so you had tolerated him. Had been civil. He had saved you from possible jail time, after all, flashing his badge and convincing the doctors not to report what you’d tried to do to your unborn child.

‘Right you ready?” The doctor asked in Spanish and you nodded, mixed feelings engulfing you at what was about to happen.

You nodded and she placed the probe on your exposed stomach, so you shut your eyes and waited, praying for it to be over. Javier watched you, his heart twisting as he watched the conflict you were suffering saturate your features. You had said you wanted this baby. That you were going to raise it alone and that he had an out. So why did it look like you didn’t?

Then he heard it and all thoughts disappeared like a puff of smoke.

The rhythmic thump of his child’s heartbeat filled the air and his own heart seemed to expand in his chest. He turned to look at the screen, the doctor pointing out the baby he’d helped create and he sobbed. He cried openly and you opened your eyes to see him staring at that small shape, hand over his mouth as he let his emotions flow freely. So you allowed yourself to look.

It was instant.

The feeling of love you had for this tiny being that you were growing inside of you. This tiny life that the doctor informed you were currently around the size of an olive. She then left the imaging on screen as she started to clean the jelly from your stomach and as soon as she was done, Javier placed a soft kiss there.

“Hello, little one.” He whispered and you swooned “I’m your Papi and I look forward to meeting you.” He finished before he looked up at you “If you’ll let me?”

You were at a loss for words. You’d not expected him to be so welcoming of this baby and a pang of guilt struck you. What if you had succeeded? You would have taken this away from him. You’d never stopped to consider that he might actually want this. Want to be a father.

You’d been too scared to consider it.

You were discharged later that day and Javier took you home, helped you get comfortable before putting away the medications and vitamins you’d been given. You weren’t sure when you dozed off but you’d been surprised to find that he was still there when you woke up later that day, carrying a tray of food with him as he set himself down on the bed beside you.

“Made you some soup.” He said softly as he placed the spoon in the bowl and handed it to you “Wasn’t sure whether you’d be up for anything bigger.”

“Why are you doing this Javier?” You asked, your brows furrowed as you gave him a questioning look.

“Doctor said you were going to be weak for a few more days and that you’d probably need a little extra help.” He replied, placing the bowl down when you didn’t take it.

“I know all of that I was there.” You grumbled, “I mean why are you helping me?”

“Because I care about you.”

“If you cared about me we wouldn’t be in this mess.” You spat and he flinched at the statement.

“You’re right I’m sorry.” He fumbled as he pushed the tray closer to you and stood “You don’t want me here... Fucking idiot.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Not you… I’m a fucking idiot. Thinking that you’d accept help from me.” He elaborated “Or that you’d be willing to let me be a part of this baby’s life. I have no right.” He finished as he shook his head and made his way towards the door “I’ll get Connie to come and help you. She's more qualified anyway.’ He threw over his shoulder as stepped through the doorway, only to be stopped when you called his name.

“You have every right to be a part of this baby’s life.” You started, expression softening a little “I just… I just don’t want you to feel like you are obligated to take care of me just because I’m carrying your child.”

“But that’s exactly what I am.” He turned to face you, tears pooling in those chocolate depths “It is my duty to care for the woman who’s to give me the greatest gift I’ve ever received. So I will do that however you’ll let me. Not because I need to.” He paused, locking eyes with yours “But because I want to.”

You nodded at him, giving him a weak smile before picking up the bowl of soup he left beside you and hummed in delight at the savoury flavours.

“Did you make this yourself?” You asked and he nodded shyly “This is really good. How did you learn to cook like this?”

“I nursed my mum through cancer.” He replied honestly and you looked up at him in shock “Kinda taught myself to cook so that I could take care of her and pops. He uh… Well, he didn’t cope well with her illness. Even worse when she passed.”

“Javier I-”

“I’m glad you like it Hermosa.” He interrupted with a smile, changing the subject “I’ll be just out here if you need anything.” He finished and you nodded, watching him leave whilst your heart ached for him.

3 months along…

“So the baby is around the size of a plumb now according to the baby book I got.” Exclaimed Javier excitedly and you smiled sweetly at him.

“You read a baby book?” Snorted Steve as he laughed at Javier’s statement, earning a smack on the arm from his wife.

“I think it’s sweet.” Announced Connie as she gave Javi’s arm a friendly squeeze.

“Have you told work yet?” Steve asked you, taking a swig of his beer.

“No.” You replied, shrugging as you spoke “We wanted to wait another month. Just to be sure everything’s… well you know.”

“Makes sense.” Connie replied as she placed a steaming mug of herbal tea in front of you “So there’s been no complications from…” She trailed off and you caught the hurt that flashed in Javier’s eyes.

“No.’ You replied simply, giving him a regretful look “We’re both very lucky.” You finished as you placed a hand on your slight bump.

“Still can’t believe you tried to get rid of it yourself.” Said Steve, not seeing the glares he then received from you and Connie.

Javier felt his stomach twist at the memory of it. Standing abruptly from his seat and making a b-line for the bathroom, Steve watched his partner leave with confusion etched into his features before finally turning his head to see the angry stares of you and his wife.

“You really do need to work on your mental filter Steve.” Connie growled as she turned to look at you “I’m sorry. You okay?”

“I am but Javi…”

“He’ll be okay,” Steve waved off but you shook your head.

“No… You don’t...” You paused a moment, remembering the conversation you and he had shared a few weeks back ‘It still hurts him to know I tried.”

…

2 weeks prior…

‘So I got this baby book.” Said Javier as he placed a large paper bag down on the table “And don’t be mad, but I got a few other things.”

“Javier I’m not even 3 months along.” You chuckled “There’s still a risk that-”

“That what?” Javier asked, his tone taking you by surprise.

“That I could lose it.” You said, voice cracking a little when you saw the expression that spread across his face “I just don’t want to jinx it.”

“You tried to get rid of it and it came through that. I’m sure-”

“Why are you still holding that over me?” You snapped “I made a mistake Javier. You need to move on.”

“Move on?” He growled, tears forming in his eyes “Move on from the fact you tried to kill our baby?”

“I was scared, Javier!” You yelled “I let you in, gave myself to you and you rejected me. Quite publicly I might add.” You paused as you tried to calm your breathing “I’m then forced to take two months off because I became the talk of the embassy and in that time I find out I’m pregnant. How was I supposed to feel about it all Javier?”

“You should have come and talked to me.” He said, tears streaming down his cheeks “I would have-”

“You would have what?” You pried “Welcomed me with open arms? Told me that we could be a happy family and that you’d made a mistake telling me I was nothing more than a stress relief exercise?”

“I never said that.”

“Oh no… we were just two friends comforting each other right.” You scoffed “Except I was in love with you...” You stopped yourself there, unable to believe that you’d just blurted that out. “I’m glad you want to be a part of this baby's life, Javier. It’s not exactly the sort of situation I’d ever expected to have a child but we have to play with the cards we’re dealt. So why don’t we just agree not to discuss the horrific thing I tried to do and just celebrate and enjoy this experience.” You paused as you took his hands in yours “I’m sorry I nearly took them from you. I know it hurts you and it pains me that I inflicted that on you but they’re here.” You placed his hand on your stomach “Growing inside me, safe and sound. We’re going to be okay.”

He'd simply nodded, unable to say anything else on the matter but he knew that he needed to try and move on as you said. It had all turned out for the best.

Right?

…

Steve sat there in shock, reeling from what you’d just told him. His partner hadn’t talked much about what had happened, it had been Connie in the end that had told him, after gaining your permission of course.

“I should go talk to him.” You said as you pushed yourself to your feet, only to be stopped by Steve.

“Let me.” He said as he stood from his seat “My fault he’s upset.” He finished as he made his way to where Javier had gone.

He found his partner staring down at a sleeping Olivia, shoulders shaking as he desperately tried to keep his internal struggle from slipping to the surface. He didn’t notice his partner step up behind him and tensed when the man's hand landed on his shoulder.

“What you doing in here partner?” He asked softly, glancing at his sleeping daughter before returning his attention to Javier.

“What if I’m no good?” He asked, taking Steve off guard.

“What do you mean brother?”

“What if I don’t make a good father?” He asked, letting out a shuddering breath “She tried to terminate the pregnancy because she didn’t think I’d want this.”

“Well, you did publicly humiliate her.”

“Fuck I know that Steve.” Javier growled as he fell back into the soft armchair beside Olivia’s cot “I made a mistake but something really wonderful has come out of that. I just… I dunno how this is going to work.”

“Do you love her?” He asked, perching on the changing table opposite his companion.

“No.” He replied, shaking his head “I mean she's attractive and we had a great time but no… I don’t love her. I’m not looking for anything more with her.”

“Well, I dunno how to advise you then man.” Steve sighed, scraping a hand over his mouth “All I can say is that you’re an idiot. She's an incredible woman and you’d be lucky to be with someone like her.”

“Trust me I know but… I don’t know I guess I just don’t know her well enough.”

“Well then make an effort to. See where that takes you and if you still don’t feel anything for her then fine but you owe it to her and your baby to at least try and see if there’s something there.” His partner finished as he got to his feet and placed a comforting hand over his shoulder “Just think about it Javi.”

…

“I should see what’s taking them so long.” You said, your nervousness getting the better of you “I’ll be right back.” You said over your shoulder to Connie before getting to your feet and making your way to where you knew Steve and Javier were, stopping when you heard their voices.

“Well, you did publicly humiliate her.”

“Fuck I know that Steve.” You let out a stuttered breath as you continued to listen “I made a mistake but something really wonderful has come out of that. I just… I dunno how this is going to work.”

“Do you love her?” Your breath caught in your throat as you awaited his answer.

“No.”

Your heart shattered.

“I mean she's attractive and we had a great time but no… I don’t love her. I’m not looking for anything more with her.”

You couldn’t listen a moment longer. You made your way back to the kitchen where Connie was finishing up with the dishes, grabbing your cardigan and purse.

“You off?” She asked, noting the change in your demeanour as you headed towards the front door.

“Yeah, I uh…” You paused, trying to keep yourself together but failing miserably “I’m tired. Say good night to Steve from me.” You choked before heading out the door, finally allowing yourself to fall apart the moment you were out of sight.

…

“She gone?” Asked Steve as he and Javier made their way back into the lounge.

“Yeah just a moment ago.” Connie stated as she looked at them both “She seemed pretty upset.” Her concern was evident in her features.

Javier’s stomach dropped. He said nothing, just sprinted out the door where he found you curled up on the ground as your tears fell freely. He was at your side in the blink of an eye, crouching down in front of you as he tried, desperately, to get you to look at him.

“Hermosa.” He pleaded and you finally look at him “What's wrong? Is it the baby?”

“Leave me alone Javier.” You growled, your sadness dissolving into anger.

“What is it?” He asked again and you scoffed at him.

“I think it would be best if we go our separate ways, Javier.” You said as you pushed him away and got to your feet “This isn’t going to work. I’m going to go and you can go back to screwing whoever takes your fancy. You aren’t cut out for this.” You finished as you cradled your small bump.

He recoiled at that, his own insecurities finally breaking free.

“I won’t stop you from seeing them. I’ll send you my address when I’m settled and if you want to come and see them then that's fine.”

“You’re leaving?”

“We both know I can’t stay here.” You growled.

“But the baby.” He sobs “I’ll miss everything.”

“You were going to miss that anyway.” You spat as you made your way over to the stairs “You’re a fool if you think you were actually going to see this through. We both know you can’t commit.”

With that, you left, stalking down the stairs and leaving a broken man in your wake. You were right. Of course, you were. He wasn’t cut out to be a father, he was deceiving himself and yet he'd wanted so desperately to try. Steve’s words floated around in his head. He should try to get to know you, to try and make a go of it but how could he when you wanted nothing to do with him. He wasn't against the idea of a relationship with one woman, he'd tried once before with Lorraine but that had crumbled to the ground.

Could things be different with you?

Sinking to the floor he allowed himself to weep. To mourn the loss of his child for he knew that you’d keep them from him, you were right to. The floor is where Connie found him a short time later and it was where she held him as he cried. When his tears dried up she pulled him inside, comforted him as he slowly turned into a shell of the man he once was and Steve knew this was his fault. He had to fix it. He just wasn’t sure how.

2 weeks later…

Steve had worked hard to try and bring the two of you together. You’d not mentioned leaving again but you’d also not spoken to his partner since that night. He had pleaded with you to try, told you how broken Javier had been since then but you struggled to believe the agent. You’d heard what Javier had said, he didn’t want to be with you and that he wasn’t sure how this was going to work. You knew what that meant. So you knew you had to take matters into your own hands.

You had to do right by your unborn child.

Steve continued to plead Javier’s case, however, telling you that the man was terrified to approach you for fear you would slam the door in his face you gave the blonde an opening. If Javier could come to you and make you believe that he was serious you would stay. If he couldn’t you would leave. Little did you know that the two DEA agents would be shipped off to Medellin for two weeks before he even got the chance.

Javier knocked on your door, flowers in hand and he nervously shifted from one foot to the other but when no answer came his brows furrowed in confusion and he knocked again. He'd had time in Medellin to think about things. To think about how he did want to try and make a go of things. Just because he wasn't in love with you now... Didn't mean that wouldn't come with time. He'd started to picture the family he could have with you and his heart had swelled at the idea. Knocking a third and final time he let out a frustrated sigh.

Still nothing.

Resigned to the fact you weren’t home, he sprinted upstairs and knocked on his partner's door, knowing his wife would be home with, hopefully, a little update on how you were. He’d read in the baby book that morning that now, at 14 weeks, the baby was around the size of a nectarine and that had excited him to no end. He had wondered if your bump had gotten any bigger and how you’d been coping with the morning sickness, something that had been a struggle when he’d last spoken to you.

“Javi.” Said Connie as she opened the door, Olivia in her arms “What are you doing here?” She asked as she bounced her fussy baby in her arms.

“Is she here?” He asked, saying your name when Connie gave him a bemused expression.

“You don’t know?” She questioned, her face crumpling at the realisation that he couldn't have.

“Know what?” He asked, his pulse racing as he watched Connie’s expression change to one he struggled to read “Connie where is she?”

“She left.”

Part 3

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña #javier peña gif #javier peña fanfiction #narcos fanfiction x reader #narcos fanfiction x you #narcos x you #narcos x reader #narcos fanfic #narcos fanfiction #narcos gifs #narcos #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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highsviolets · 3 years

Text

INTERVIEW NO. 1: RACHEL @djarinsbeskar

hello hello! i am so happy to announce that rachel — aka the immense talent that is @djarinsbeskar — has agreed to be my first interviewee for this new series! thank you to rach and to each one of you for all of your support. to read more about the project, click here, and to submit an author, click here.

| why rachel? |

Rachel captured my imagination from the first time we interacted as mutuals-in-law. She’s bursting with energy and vivaciousness, with a current of kindness just underneath everything she does. Her work is no exception. Oftentimes gritty, raw, and exposing (in … ahem…more ways than one), Rachel challenges her readers to dig deeper into both the story and themselves. Her smut brings a particular fire as it’s laced with need, desire, and mutual trust that leads us deeper into the characters’ identities and how physical affection can mimic other forms of intimacy. She’s a tour de force in this fandom and an absolute joy.

| known for |

Engaging with and encouraging other authors, cultivating inspo posts, attention to world building & character development

| my favorites |

Stitches

Boxer!Din

Full Masterlist • Ko-Fi

| q & a |

When did you start writing? What was that project, and what was it like? Has that feeling or process ever changed over time? Why?

I can’t remember a time I wasn’t writing. I was an avid reader, as I think most writers are—and I remember, after picking up Lord of the Rings—that I could live so many lives, experience so many things, all from the pages of a book. I could make sense of the world through words and ink and paper. And it offered me a level of peace and clarity I wanted to share with others. So, I started writing.

My first project I remember to this day, was a short story about a dog. I had been so heartbroken when I learned that dogs were colourblind. I must have been about seven or eight at the time, and I was fixated on this idea that dogs couldn’t see the vibrant hues that made the world beautiful. It was something I wanted to change—and with all the righteous anger of a child not getting their own way, I sulked over the fact that I couldn’t. Until I wrote it down.

“How do dogs see colour?”

And much like my writing today, I answered myself.

“Dogs don’t need to see colour. Dogs smell colour.”

And so, I wrote a story, about a puppy being brought on different walks by its owner. And with every new street it walked down—colour bloomed with scent. Colours more beautiful and vibrant than we could ever hope to see with our eyes. And it gave me solace and helped me work through an emotion that – granted was immature and inconsequential – had affected me. To this day, I still smile seeing dogs sniffing at everything they pass on their walks. Smelling colour. It gave me the key to my favourite thing in life. I don’t think my process has changed much since then. Much of what I write is based on a skeleton plan, but I leave room for characters to speak and feel as they need to. I like to know the starting point and destination of a chapter—but how they get there, that still falls to instinct. I think I’ve found a happy medium of strict planning and winging it that suits me now—and hopefully it will continue to improve over time!

When did you start posting your writing, and on what platform? What gave you the push to do that?

I mean, fanfiction has always been part of my life. I think anyone who was growing up in the late 2000’s and early 2010’s found their way to fanfiction.net at some time or other. The wild west compared to what we have now! My first post was for the Lord of the Rings fandom on fanfiction.net. It was an anthology of the story told through the eyes of the steeds. Bill the Pony, Shadowfax—it was all very innocent. That was probably in 2010 when I was fifteen. I had been wanting to share writing for a long time but was worried about how it would be received. I didn’t really have a gauge on my level or my creativity and – one of the many flaws of someone with crippling perfectionism – I only ever wanted to provide perfection. That was a major inhibitor when I was younger. By wanting it to be perfect, I never posted anything. Until that stupidly cute LOTR fic. It was freeing to write something that no one but me had any interest in, because if I was writing for myself then there was no one to disappoint, right? And that was all it took. I had some pauses over the years between college and life and such, but I’ve never lost that mindset when it comes to posting.

What your favorite work of yours that you have ever written? Why is it your favorite? What is more important to you when considering your own stories for your own enjoyment — characters? fandom? spice? emotional development? the work you’ve put into it? Is that different than what you enjoy reading most in other people’s fics?

I don’t think it’ll come as much of a surprise when I say Stitches. While not original, I mean—it follows the plot of the Mandalorian quite diligently, it is the piece of work I really hold very close to my heart. Din Djarin as a character is what got me back into writing after what must have been five years? He inspired something. His manner, his personality—he resonated with me as a person in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time. And gave me back a creative outlet I had been missing.

It’s funny to say out loud—but I wanted to give him something? I spent so long thinking about his character that half my brain felt like it belonged to him—how he reacted and responded to things etc. and of course, like every dreamy Pisces—I wanted to give him love and happiness. So, Stitches came along. Personally, when writing—it’s a combination of characters, emotional development and spice (I can’t help myself) and when we can follow that development. With Stitches, it’s definitely the spice that is the conduit for development—but I adore showing how the physical can help people who struggle to communicate emotions too complex for words.

I don’t usually read for Din, as most people know—but I do enjoy reading the type of work that Stitches is. Human, damaged—but still with an undercurrent of hope that makes me think of children’s books.

You said, “much like writing today, I answered myself.” Could you talk about that in relation to Stitches?

So, I’m endlessly curious, it has to be said. Especially about why people are the way they are. Why people do A instead of B. Why X person’s immediate thought went to this place instead of that place. And I’m rarely satisfied with superficial explanations. One of the most exciting parts of writing and fanfiction especially, is making sense of that why. There can be countless explanations, some that are content with what is seen on the surface and some that go deep and some that go even deeper still.

Stitches is almost a – very long winded and much too long – answer to the questions I was so intrigued by about Din Djarin, about the Mandalorian and about the Star Wars universe as a whole. I often wondered what happened to people after the Rebellion, the normal people who fought—the people in the background. What did they do next? Did some of them suffer from PTSD? What was the galaxy like right after the Empire fell? That first season of the Mandalorian answered some of those questions, but I wanted to know more. So, I created a reader insert who was a combat medic—and through her, I let myself answer the questions of what happened next.

Regarding Din as a character, I wanted to know what a bounty hunter with a code of honour would do in certain situations—what made him tick, what made hm vulnerable. I wanted to explore the discovery of his identity. Din Djarin didn’t exist after he was taken from Aq Vetina. He became a cog in a very efficient machine of Mandalorians—and it was safe there. I wanted to see what – or who – might encourage him to step into his own. Grogu was that person in a familial sense, but what about romantically? What about individually? There’s so much to explore with this man! So many facets of personality and nuances of character that make him so gorgeous to write and think about.

Talk to me about the Din Djarin Athletic Universe. How does Din as all of these forms of athlete play off who you see him as in canon?

The Athletic Universe! How I adore my athletes. Despite being in a modern setting, I have kept the core of Din’s character in each of them (at least I hope I have!). I like to divide Din’s character into three phases when it comes to canon because he’s not as immovable as people seem to think he is. We discussed this before, how I see Din as a water element—adaptable, but strong enough that he can be as steadfast as rock. But I digress, the first phase is the character we see in the first episode. Basically, before Grogu. There’s an aggressive brutality to Din when we see him bounty hunting. He works on autopilot and isn’t swayed by sob stories or promises. He has the covert but is ultimately separate. Those soft feelings he comes to recognise when he has Grogu are dormant – not non-existent – but they haven’t been nurtured or encouraged. This is the point I extracted Boxer!Din’s personality and story from.

Cyclist!Din on the other hand—is already a father, a biological father to Grogu. And his personality, I took from that moment in the finale of Season two where I believe Din’s transformative arc of character solidified. He was always a father to Grogu, but I do believe that moment where he removes his helmet is the moment, he accepts that role fully in his heart and mind. And that is why I don’t believe for a second, that removing his helmet was him breaking his Creed. In fact, I believe it was the purest act he could do in devotion to his Creed—to his foundling, to his son. The Cyclist!AU is very much the character I see canon Din having should Grogu have stayed with him. This single dad who isn’t quite sure how he got to where he is now—but does anything and everything for his child without thought. It’s a natural instinct for him, and I like exploring those possibilities with Cyclist!Din.

You also said, “he has the covert but is ultimately separate.” What does it take for him — and you — to get to that point of being ‘not separate?’

I mentioned this above, but one of the biggest interests I have in Din as a character is his identity. He’s a Mandalorian, he’s a bounty hunter, he’s the child’s guardian but those are all what he is, not who. I think Din is separate while being part of the covert because he doesn’t know. I don’t think anyone can really be part of something if they don’t know who they are or, they struggle with their identity. It’s curious to me—how you can deceive even yourself to mimic the standard set for the many. In the boxer verse, he identifies himself in relation to his boxing—and every part of his outward personality exhibits those qualities. But when he’s given a softer touch—an outlet of affection, and comfort—we see the softer side of him surface. It’s very much the same with Stitches Din. Identity is like anything, emotions—relationships, bodies. It needs nurturing to thrive, an open door—a safe space. At least, that’s what goes through my mind when I think of him.

Who is your favorite character to read?

Frankie because there are so many ways his character can be interpreted and there are some stellar versions of him that I think of at least once a day. Javi because he reminds me of kintsugi-- golden recovery, broken pottery where the cracks are highlighted with gold. I also adore reading for Boba Fett, Paz Viszla and the clones!

Is there anything else you want your readers to know about you, your writing, or your creative process?

Hmm... only that I am quite literally a gremlin clown who is always here to chat Din, Star Wars, literature, book recs and anything else under the sun! I like to hear people's stories, their opinions etc. it helps me see things from alternative points of view and can truly help the writing process! Other than that, I think I can only thank readers for putting up with my ridiculously long chapters and rambling introspection. Thank you for indulging me always! ❤️

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