#to look over the edge of a tall bridge just to see whats there. that i can look all i want but i was being held onto so tightly i wouldnt

[forelsho]

toji fushiguro x female reader, smut nsfw 16- dni !

tw— cunnilingus, spoilers for his backstory, both of u guys are sexdrunk, he drinks your squirt straight from your hole, ass to mouth, reverse cowgirl, talks about period but no period sex, switch toji? full nelson, he's so whipped bro, no words exchanged, filthy, not proofread, use this to masturbate idk !

note— my 'first' smut guys! be nice pls :(

big man toji and his stupidly attractive scar. you'd be lying if you said the first thing that caught your eye wasn't his enormous biceps or the deep scar on his lips.

you know how that scar was born, you know it's origin, so it does make you feel guilty when you just can't stop itching for your lips to slide over the dented skin of your man, or the feel of it gliding across your clit as you desperately hump and grind on his face.

but he, does he feel guilty about it? does he think he should be ashamed of such a bruise being etched into his skin as a terrible memory of his past?

.

.

no. why would he? he embraces it. he takes pride in the way men and women alike swoon over the line across his lips, how it highlights the shine in his teeth, he lives for it. oh, and he also loves the way you get so desperate on top of his face, riding his tongue like the muscle was a dildo; after completing a bounty with a hefty amount, he thought it would be a good idea to pierce his tongue. and oh, how a good idea it was. he just needs to stick out his tongue and you're already on him, sucking on the smooth muscle, eyes rolling to the back of your head when you feel the metal glide over your teeth. he needs to momentarily pull you away before you start squirting and cumming in your panties from a makeout sesh with him alone.

sometimes, it doesn't even take much effort to work you up, he just yawns, adam's apple bobbing and mouth agape. his tongue sticking out and by the time he can close his mouth, you're already suffocating his nose with you clitoris and all he can taste is you. you, you, you. it doesn't take long for the both of you to get drunk on each other, his hands coming up to your thighs to stabilize you, to prison you, to leave you glued on his mouth until you both fall asleep. he eats cunt like a mad man too, and it he doesn't even have to eat you out for you to be squirting all over him— riding his face in reverse cowgirl, your hole pulses when she feels the smoothness of his skin, how the bridge of his nose is sharp and can send you over the edge. he's not doing so well either, you clit directly on top of his nostrils, his sense of smell over clouded by the scent of your pussy despite his heavenly restriction. fuck, he thinks, how much of a goddess do you have to be to even break the boundaries of someone's cursed restriction?

he can feel it, it's coming. his eyes shoot open and he slides you directly into his mouth, tongue lapping at your cunt as you yelp and moan, hands holding onto his pecs. you feel it too, your hips buck and twitch against him, you look at his throbbing cock. standing tall and large, what catches your eye the most is the purple hue from the base to the tip and if you squint, you can see his swelling balls. poor guy, you've left him blue balled. the thought of that, the thought of your usually dominant boyfriend begging for your walls around his member, being so desperate for your warmth, makes you throw your head back, and squirt all over his face. luckily for him, most of it goes directly into his mouth, he has no problem drinking it up like it was those $1000 cocktails rich people drink. his hair is soaked in your gush, eyes closed to prevent any of the liquid to get into his eye sockets too. he relishes in the pleasure he gives you. you could see his dick twitch and pulsate, cute.

.

.

in a similar situation, you sit on his face again, this time, with your foot playing with his member. he's holding a vibrator to your pussy, of course, he would never let a lady like you do such a thing like pleasure yourself. not when he's around. his tongue pistons in and out of your asshole, reminiscing about your protest from earlier. about 'but 'ji, it's so disgusting!' and 'it's dirty down there so don't!' but don't you realize? it's the same thing as your pussy, don't you bleed from your pussy too? dumbass. your ass is just as tasty as your cunt anyway, he'll gladly eat your ass out like it's a full course, five star meal. he'll gladly be your chair with his dick as a footstool, of course he would, he has no qualms in pleasuring you. he won't stop eating your ass out like a mad man, his pink muscle already deep inside of your cavern as the thumb of his left hand caresses your rim. where was this piece of meat when he was starving?

.

.

during oral, you're always the one in control, he, every time, goes into a submissive headspace in moments like these. wherein you're using him as a chair, or when you're sucking his soul out through his cock. either way, he can't get a break with you. both your pussy and throat hold his cock and tongue in a vice grip, like rubber. so, when his cock goes into your pussy, both if you get drunk on each other, turning into nothing more than horny bunnies fucking until the next February 29th.

you loooove getting fucked in full nelson, where the back of your knees are supported with his arms, ankles parallel to your ears and big cock snugly fit in your small pussy, one wrong move and toji could break your cervix and womb fuck you. your tits bounce and shake with every thrust he lets up in you, both his hand on the back of your throat holding you in place, making you watch as his dick brutally pistons in and out inside of you, proof of this is when the bulge of your tummy appears and reappears with each thrust he makes. you love your boyfriend, but heavens, toji junior sure does come into a close. you know never do this to someone like you, but everytime he just throws you on the bed with cum sopping from you pussy and leaves the room, you can't help but giggle. even knowing he's just going to fetch a rag from the bathroom to clean you up, it's nice being treated like a sex doll.

despite having gone for three rounds straight already, your hand still reaches down between your legs to rub your clit, you could hear toji mutt through the walls 'where is this goddam' thing..' and that only fuels your fingers more. going ham on your little pussy, you can't wait for your boyfriend to come in and fuck your cunt again. no way you'll be stopping your little sex escapade soon.

[peeweekey]

cliff talk | sebastian x reader

word count: 2.1k

summary: sebastian brings you on a ride.

tags: emotional hurt/comfort, slight angst, dialogue heavy, sebastian and reader have a heart to heart

a/n: i never thought i'd be writing for the emo boy but here i am. hope you guys liked this as much as i liked writing this! :D

Like the green rain phenomenon or the cute little junimo creatures that live in the community center, there’s always something new to experience in the valley. As odd as it might be.

Hunched over, tending to your crops—is like living in wait, the calm before the storm, the thrum of anticipation as you await the next exciting thing.

Like today—now.

“Ah, there you are.”

The garden shears in your hands are dropped into the thick down crawl of growing fruit. You look up, squinting your eyes due to the warm beat of dying sunlight.

“Sebastian?” you pause, looking up at him from your spot amongst growing melon vines. Your overalls smeared with dirt and damp with sweat—this is the last state you’d want to be seen in.

“Hey farmer,” The keys dangling from his index finger jingle as he gives you a close-lipped smile. “Wanna go for a ride?”

—

The place Sebastian stops at is quiet.

But not in the way most people think—the valley is never quiet, birds chirping, the breeze singing through tall grass and the rustle of branches swaying slowly. You’re aware of the sounds in the recesses of your mind. 

The view is breath-taking.

The sun set long before you arrived on Sebastian’s cliff side spot. It’s cool and grassy, ticking your ankles as you walk through the field. The air, no longer warm but a cool breeze that you greedily inhale.

You stop right before the edge, there’s a big drop that you'd rather not slip and fall into. Zuzu city lay just under the horizon, a smatter of light in the otherwise now-dark forest. A cluster of flashing lights that remind you of stars—that have fallen and gathered from the night sky.

“Amazing, I know.” Sebastian says, a few steps behind you. He’s leaning against his bike, staring at the same view as you. “Zuzu city is miles from here, but there’s so much light—you can see it even from high up.”

You fold your arms, turning your back at the view—facing him. “Well, it is nicer from afar.”

Sebastian gives you a look, then nods his head to the grassy patch behind him. “Mhm. Let’s sit?”

You settle down together, side by side. You, him, and his motorbike beside him—there’s barely any space between your legs. You feel the warmth of proximity—so close. What you’d give to bridge that gap once and for all.

“Want a drink?” he asks, pulling out a beer bottle from his hoodie pocket—your brow raises, a miracle it didn’t break on the way. “Only got one though.”

You shrug, taking the bottle. It’s warm—warmed by his body heat. “S’okay with me. We’ll just have’ta share.”

He looks at you, eyes momentarily flickering to your lips as you use your teeth to pop the bottle cap off. “I guess we do.”

—

The beer is settling warmly low in your stomach, loosening every tightly wound muscle in your body. You feel weightless, the edges of your mind made fuzzy. 

“I’ve been savin’ up a lot,” he suddenly says, picking absentmindedly at the blades of grass underneath him. “Almost have enough too. Once I do, I’m skipping outta this town on my bike.”

You nod your head. “It is a pretty cool bike.”

“Mhm,” he drawls, patting the side of his motorcycle—almost lovingly. “It’s gonna take me all the way to Zuzu city.”

“Zuzu city,” you repeat slowly, feeling the sound of the words in your mouth. It’s unpleasant, Zuzu city is a place you’d rather leave behind. You look down at the view of it, squinting. “Why go there?”

He pauses, inhaling the cool night air deeply. His fingers itch—like they’re searching for the comforting hold of cigarettes he so enjoys. 

A part of you wishes you didn’t ask. Difficult conversations and cliff sides don’t mesh well together, you think. You don’t dare move a muscle as you wait for him, your eyes drifting back to the glittering light-filled view of Zuzu city.

“It’s suffocating here—everything about the valley,” he replies mirthlessly. “I live in the basement of my mom’s house for fuck’s sake. I know how she looks at me, like she could’ve done so much more to make me less of a shitbag. Maybe she could’ve, I don’t care. It’s way too late now.”

A low whistle escapes past your lips. You swirl the beer bottle loosely in your grip. “I see…”

Sebastian narrows his eyes at you, scoffing. “You’re pretty shit at comforting words, y’know that?”

“Harsh,” you look at him quizzically, shoving the beer bottle into his hands. He accepts it immediately. “What do you want me to say, Seb?” 

“Nothing,” he smirks, downing a generous gulp of beer, the bottle is a little less than half full now. “‘m just teasing. Don’t gimme that look. I didn’t want comfort anyway, I’ve had enough of that. I want you to tell me the stone cold truth.”

“Promise not to get pissed off?”

Sebastian clicks his tongue against his teeth, then smiles. “Depends on what you say.”

“Wow, guess I’ll have to lie.” you joke.

“Hey—”

“Kidding.” You laugh softly at his pinched expression. His eyes narrowed—lacking any real aggression—at you as you poke harmless fun. 

You grin, slowly turning back to the view. “You won’t find yourself there,” you say simply, taking a slow sip of beer, the smoothness of it running smoothly down your throat. “Believe me, I’d know.”

Sebastian turns to face you, irritation spelled out in every feature of his face. 

“Smartass…”

“Hey, you asked for the stone cold truth,” you lift your fingers into air quotations to emphasize your point.

“Tch. Tell me this then. If I can’t find myself there, or here in the valley. Where the hell do I go?” 

You pause, clicking the bottle with your nails idly. He’s irritated obviously. But you think more frustrated and confused than anything.

You sigh, then smile. The valley hasn’t been the kindest to its resident shut-in.

“Mid-life crisis at 24,” you tease gently, poking at his side. Sebastian shoots you a heatless glare. “Don’t worry too much Seb, your hair is gonna turn gray.”

“Ha-ha,” he replies sourly. “You talk as if that isn’t the same reason you moved to the valley.”

“Hey, I gave a generous amount of my life to Joja,” you snort, shifting your feet into a better resting position. “I paid my dues over there before I found some semblance of peace here.”

“I can’t just sit around and wait my whole life.”

“Then don’t,” you reply simply. “God knows I wish I followed my dear old gramps’ footsteps sooner.”

“It isn’t that simple.”

“Yep. It isn’t. It does get easier though.”

“You say it so easily.”

“Sometimes, it just is.” you reply. “Only sometimes, though.”

For all you remember, your grandfather absolutely adored the valley, though he couldn’t convince you in the height of your angsty teenage phase to do the same. You’re long past that now, life didn’t go as planned and you ended up right where your grandfather said you would be.

Funny, how fate works so mysteriously, so weirdly.

You shake that thought away, turning to Sebastian—who has the same contemplative expression as you.

He’s silent, thinking. His fingers grasping and twirling the drawstrings of his hoodie. “You never told me the story.”

“Well,” you purse your lips, handing him the bottle. He drops the drawstrings to grab it.  A wordless agreement between the two of you to share what remains of the liquid. “You n’ver asked.”

“I wanna hear it,” he says, looking at you at the corner of his glittering obsidian eyes. “please?”

“How polite,” you laugh, he lightly hits you on the back of your head with his palm. “Ouch. No need to be rough w’me, I’ll tell you.”

You clear your throat with an obnoxious ahem. “Once upon a time…”

“—C’mon farmer, stop messing around. I wanna know your story,” he interjects, and it almost sounds like a plea. “No theatrics.”

Your lips flatten into a grim line. He’s being unusually insistent on the topic. But now that you think about it, you haven’t told anyone why you moved into the farm. Not your mother, not your father, and definitely not anyone else in Pelican Town.

Sebastian may be your first, you think to yourself—innuendo unintended.

You hug your arms closer to your chest, the cool draft sliding over your skin—making you shiver. No better way to battle the uncomfortable situation with an even more uncomfortable conversation. You take a deep breath.

“I was a fresh graduate when I started working at Joja—worked my way up from customer service to marketing. Crazy, right?” you chuckle, though it sounds hollow even to you. “All the pretentious proposals I would write and those useless meetings that’d take forever. There wasn’t a day where I didn’t hate my 20 year old self for starting at Joja. 5 years down the fucking drain when I quit. Let me tell you, it’s the best decision I made in my stupid corporate slave life.”

Sebastian says nothing, he hands the bottle back to you, which you take a generous swig of. You grip the bottle tightly around its neck, the warm feeling of alcohol loosening your tongue. 

You exhale deeply through your nose. “I was in my cubicle when I just ‘bout had enough—by the way, I hate that they’re called cubicles, I felt like a number in some executive’s spreadsheets instead of a living breathing person.” all that talking and your throat itches for more of the sweet burn of alcohol—you oblige it with another weighty gulp. “Grandpa left me this letter, told lil’ old me not to open it until I really, really needed to. Now that I think of it, he knew.”

Your voice cracks by the end of it. Your tongue feels way too thick for your mouth. And your eyes blur—there seems to be twice as many stars as usual.

Sebastian stays quiet, reflective even. Though his hands have stilled, and he feels closer than he was earlier. It’s warmer, you think.

If he asks, you’ve decided you’ll blame it on the alcohol.

—

You and Sebastian talk for hours after, the bottle of beer being passed between the both of you too often. You feel a tad tipsy—having drank the lion’s share of beer. Your head lolls onto your arms as you talk about everything then nothing. 

There’s a fair moment of silence that blankets the two of you after—certainly not uncomfortable. You feel Sebastain knows the fact more than anyone. He seems to thrive in the quiet moments.

“I don’t think I’m leaving the valley any time soon, though,” he says softly, breaking the tranquil silence. 

So he’s been thinking. “Why so?”

He shrugs his shoulders, taking the final sip of beer that finishes the bottle. “Something’s makin’ it worth staying a little longer.” His eyes meet yours, albeit for a second—before he refocuses on the cliff side view. 

Ah, you understand.

Suddenly, alcohol isn’t the only thing making you feel so warm. You thank the stars for the dark, for hiding any warm pinkness in your expression. You smile, more to yourself than anything. Taking the bottle from him, brushing your fingers over his perpetually cold ones.

The bottle is lighter than it was at the beginning of the night—your shoulders too, less achy, less stiff. With all that weight off of them, you can afford to be less wound up. 

You tip the bottle over the grass, nothing but a single drop comes out. You watch it fall and drop into the grass. “Good. This something thinks you’ll come to like it even.”

Sebastian tilts his head, a tentative smile playing on his lips. “That’s presumptive.”

You shrug, smirking. “I have a sense for this type of stuff.”

“Really now?”

“Mhm. I don’t just lie for no reason. And my senses are telling me you’ll be alright.”

You hear the silent hitch of his breath, the momental widening of his eyes and the tremble in his jaw. It saddens you slightly, no one has probably reassured him of it before.

God knows you needed some while working at Joja, you’re just returning your dues to the universe—and to him.

He laughs softly, and bitterly. His fingers twitch again—for that darn cigarette. “God, I sure hope so.”

Sebastian will be just fine, you know that. And it’s about time he knew it too.

[saetoru]

#𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍

☰ SYNOPSIS ⋮ it’s his best friends big day, and your first real encounter with geto suguru, but gojo insists suguru won’t notice if you disappear for just a little while

five places rb! gojo shouldn’t fuck you series

pairing ⋮ rich boy! gojo x reader

length ⋮ 3.3k words

contents ⋮ nsfw 18+, fem! reader, college au, rich boy! gojo, needy gojo, fingering, cunnilingus, edging, hand jobs, unprotected sex, clothed sex, clit slapping, creampie

notes ⋮ well this was supposed to be posted in the day but now it is 2 am jdshdgf. thank you to my lover boy scout for beta reading i adore you <33

gojo satoru is spoiled—painfully so.

which is to be expected given his upbringing, and it’s not as though you don’t already know it—you just haven’t been made aware that you’ve also been a part of the problem until now. you don’t realize just how often you give into him until you have to say no.

and he’s rather good at getting what he wants—with his lips curled in a convincing pout, wide blue eyes that stare at you innocently, large hands roaming your sides as they gently rub up and down the expanse of your hips. you should be firm, you should be reminding him he can’t always have something just because he asks, but it starts to hit you that maybe you’re just as bad when it comes to spoiling him.

and if he’s rather good at getting what he wants, he’s especially good when he wants you.

“satoru, we’re at your best friend’s birthday—”

“but suguru has so many spare rooms—”

“no,” you hiss, making his lips pout even further.

gojo satoru is also insatiable. just when you think he’s had enough, it seems to never be enough. he always wants more. you think there should be exceptions to that fact, like being in the wrong time and the wrong place perhaps, but you've been proven wrong time and time again (as you always are when it comes to him.)

“he won’t even notice we’re gone,” he whines, hands trailing down to grab your ass. you swat his hands away and glare, sighing and pinching the bridge of your nose in irritation when a few people snicker as they walk past you. 

“satoru—”

“that’s toru to you,” he corrects, glaring at you. 

you almost forget he’s also a bastard. 

“toru, now is a horrible time,” you scold, “this is my first time meeting suguru—i even got a new dress for this party, see?” you gesture at the (expensive) dress you’re wearing, which seems to only do the opposite of what you hoped. he only stares at you up and down, eyes lingering on your curves as they turn a shade darker—a shade you’re all too familiar with as his orbs gloss over with lust. his hands firmly give your waist a squeeze, and as his resolve only hardens, you find yours slowly crumbling.

“you never get new dresses for me,” he complains, tugging you closer by the hips. 

by now, you’ve gotten used to the burning stares of people in the distance when your boyfriend insists on being difficult, but what you don’t expect is a smooth chuckle from behind you as a tall figure with dark hair approaches you. 

“jealous she got all dolled up for me, satoru?” geto teases, making gojo huff as he pulls you flush against his chest. 

“she didn’t dress up for you,” he scowls, “she dressed up for me. right, baby?” he looks at you hopefully, smiling at you as if he expects you to pick his side.

“no, i dressed up for myself,” you roll your eyes. 

“that’s right,” gojo agrees instantly, nodding seriously as he speaks, “she dresses up for no one but herself. but sometimes for me too,” he adds the last part with a smug grin, making you purse your lips and geto roll his eyes in amusement. 

sometimes, you seem to also forget that gojo satoru is shameless too. 

“well, you almost said the right thing,” geto snorts, making you crack a smile as you chuckle, “you at least get points for effort.” and for what feels like the millionth time in the last ten minutes, gojo shoots you a pout as you join in with his best friend’s teasing. 

“he’s trying his best,” you giggle, gesturing at gojo with one hand, the other laying flat against his sturdy chest, “he’s not the brightest.”

“no he’s not,” geto laughs softly. you watch as he gently bumps his fist at gojo’s shoulder, and you take in the soft smile that blooms across your boyfriend’s lips. 

it’s rare to see gojo this carefree when he’s not in private—you’re used to his smug attitude and witty jeers, used to seeing the carefully built exterior that makes him gojo. but he’s always been satoru when he’s with you, and he seems to be satoru when he’s with geto too.

you decide you like geto suguru—decide that maybe, just like gojo, he’s not so bad for someone you’ve always deemed a privileged snob. 

“baby, why would you pick his side? you’re suppos—”

“happy birthday, by the way,” you turn to geto, interrupting gojo (and ignoring his protests about not listening to him), “toru’s told me a lot about you.” geto’s eyes seem to soften some before he shoots gojo a smug look. 

“i gotta hear everything toru’s said,” he grins, “i’ll be back after i greet all the guests.” with a polite smile to you and a firm clasp to gojo’s shoulder as he pats his back, he’s off—and as soon as he’s out of earshot, your earlier headache returns. 

“see? he’s gone,” gojo whines, “baby, please? you look so pretty, i just gotta have you,” he whispers huskily against your ear, sending shivers down your spine at the low rumble of his voice against your skin. you let out a shaky breath, pretending not to notice the thumbs that rub circles into your hips and the warm breath that fans against your skin.

but something tells you gojo is well aware that he just about has you where he wants you. 

“baby, you can have me as soon as we’re home,” you press a lingering kiss to his jaw, and it’s meant to soothe him, meant to convince him against his very inappropriately timed request—but you both know your lips pressing into him like that only further riles him up.

and perhaps you too, even if you don’t want to admit it. 

“please,” he bats his lashes—and gojo satoru has dangerous eyes. they’re all too alluring, pulling you to the depths of the ocean until it’s too late not to drown in them. “i promise this’ll be the only time,” he murmurs, pressing soft pecks along your jaw before he meets your gaze once more. 

you look into his eyes, and suddenly, you’re pulled in deep—not one chance of survival. 

“you’re a liar,” you breathe, but he smirks when he hears the need in your own voice. 

“ah, well…i guess you got me,” he chuckles. “can’t expect a man to resist all this,” he says lowly, hands rubbing up and down your sides again, making the room close in on you as your breath seems to become more labored, “that’s too cruel.”

finally, the last thread to your composure snaps as you grip his shirt with your fist, sighing deeply before meeting his eyes. they’re smug—like they know what you’ve decided long before you have, and they almost make you want to rethink your decision. maybe you would if it wasn’t for the dull ache spreading between your legs. 

“it can’t be anywhere people can find us,” you warn. his eyes turn a shade darker almost instantly as he nods. 

“done,” he says smugly, like it’s too simple of a request. “i know just the place. it’ll be perfect.”

————————————————

evidently, the “perfect” place in question is geto’s own bedroom. your jaw drops as soon as you step in, turning to gojo to protest, only to have two strong arms guide you to the bed, your back falling against the soft mattress with a thud as he hovers over you. 

“t-toru,” you stutter, trying to ignore the soft nips at your neck as his lips map your skin. “are you crazy? we can’t do this here,” you say in disbelief. 

“why not?” he shrugs, hiking your dress up your legs, letting it bunch up above your hips. “no one’s gonna interrupt us here,” he purs, kiss after kiss pressing into your jaw, down your neck, along your collarbones and stopping just at the swell of your breasts. 

“but this is…this is his room…we sh-shouldn’t—”

“shh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “you think too much.” his finger runs along your slit through your underwear, and a cocky grin paints his features as he feels the wetness through the fabric. “excited, huh?” he wriggles his brows.

“we haven’t got all day,” you hiss, rolling your hips to press against his hand for more pressure. chuckling deeply, he pulls you into a heated kiss, lips molding against yours as his tongue tastes you. you moan against his mouth, and he feels his pants tighten at the sound. 

“gonna fuck you in this dress,” he hums, “did you pick this color for me?” he raises a brow, admiring the bright blue of the silk, large hands gripping your thighs before wrenching them further apart. gasping, you whine in protest. 

“toru, this dress is expensive, you have to take it off so—”

“i’ll be careful,” he protests, making you click your teeth in irritation. 

“you’re never careful with anything,” you huff, cheeks puffed up and lips curled in a cute little pout that makes him grin. chuckling, he leans down and presses a trail of kisses along your inner thigh, grinning to himself smugly as you shiver from the attention. 

“i will be,” he insists, “and if i’m not, i’ll buy you another one. buy you as many as you like if i get to keep doing this,” he grins. you don’t have another chance to protest, too busy waiting, hoping for his next move as you feel the familiar ache build in your heat. “that’s it,” he smirks, fingers slowly hooking around your underwear and inching it down your legs. you whimper when he presses a soft kiss to your clit, feeling it throb from just the slightest attention. “you just keep arguing and arguing, but you want it just as bad,” he grins up at you.

you click your teeth, scowling at him—and you’re stubborn, always have been. but gojo thinks he wants you like this, still as stubborn as the day he met you.

“if you don’t do something, i can just do it myse—fuck, toru,” you mewl, interrupting yourself as his fingers sink past your folds, curling into your spot just right. his lips attach themselves to your clit, sucking slowly, tongue lapping at you as you whine while your fingers curl into the soft sheets under you, head sinking into the plush of the pillows.

“taste just as sweet as i remember,” he groans, tongue slowly fucking into you, your slick covering his chin as he sloppily makes out with your pussy. gojo has always had a rather sweeth tooth, and he’s always hungry. he hikes a leg over his shoulder for better access, a warm hand running up and down your leg soothingly as you gasp, grunting happily when your fingers move to thread through his locks and tug at the roots.

“toru, toru—fuck,” you chant, grinding your hips to get more friction from his tongue, “feels good, k-keep going.” almost as if to spite you, he pulls away, snickering as you stare at him incredulously.

“you have any idea how loud you’re being?” he asks smugly, thumb trailing to find your clit, rubbing circles over it as you grit your teeth and glare at him. he’s too smug, too ignited by the idea of pushing your buttons as he shoots you a cheeky grin.

you suppose some things were never meant to change.

“satoru—”

“ah-ah, sweetheart,” he tuts, “it’s toru, remember? you always seem to forget that.”

“toru, quit it,” you whine, “please i need it,” you insist, pouting down at him. it mirrors the look he gave you earlier, needy and so, so desperate. all traces of pride leaves your brain when you feel his fingers tease your slit and rub along your entrance, just barely sliding into you before pulling away. you whimper at the throb between your legs as the slow build-up to your climax from earlier dies down.

“knew you wanted it as bad as me,” he chuckles lowly, fingers sinking into your heat once more, fucking into you relentlessly all too suddenly as his tongue glides along your clit back and forth, making you mewl as your thighs quiver. “always act like you’re so responsible, but you’re just my needy little baby.”

you let out a loud moan—dangerously so, and if you weren’t so close to your high, you’d be mortified that he was right earlier. you are being loud.

“gonna cum—fuck ‘m gonna cum, toru,” you sob, thighs squeezing around his head and caging him against your cunt. 

“yeah? so soon? ‘s gotta be a new record, baby,” he groans against you, the vibrations of his voice making you gasp, and suddenly everything’s turned white—you let out a shrill squeal as you cum, feeling his fingers thrust into you roughly as your walls spasm around him.

your thighs are shaking over his shoulders as he continues to suck on your clit—right until you whine and buck your hips to try and move away from his hungry lips. he finally pulls away, a satisfied grin on his face as he wipes the slick and drool from his chin with a very expensive shirt sleeve.

“someone has to be responsible,” you scoff, “look at you. you are so irresponsible,” you chide, eyeing the newly damp spot on his sleeve.

“we’re fucking on my best friend’s bed,” he snorts, “i think we’ve established that.”

he moves back up to hover over you, and you stare down at the tent in his pants, noticing the slight wet patch that’s starting to form from the pre cum, making your hand reach to palm him through the fabric. the reaction is instantaneous—and it’s satisfying, really, to make gojo shut up for once. 

especially when he lets out a soft whine at the slightest touch from you.

“fuck, baby,” he gasps, “need you so bad. been driving me insane all night.” his hips roll to grind against your hand, chasing more friction as his pants get more ragged, shaky moans ringing against your ear as he buries his face into your neck.

“who’s needy now,” you grin, squeezing around the outline of his cock, giggling when he lets out a strangled groan. “you’re about to cum in your pants.” growling, he glares at you, but his movements don’t falter for even a second.

“i’m the one who wanted this,” he reminds you, huffing slightly before cutting himself off with a surprised grunt when your hand sneaks past his waistband and frees his cock. he hisses as the cool air hits him, shuddering with a soft whine as your thumb smears the pre cum leaking from his slit around his tip. “unlike someone, i know what i want.”

you roll your eyes as you stroke him slowly—just as slowly as he teased you earlier, and he gifts you with a needy whimper.

“more,” he rasps, “god, fuck baby, i need more. please.” with a soft kiss to the side of his head, your hand squeezes around him tighter, stroking his thick length sloppily before guiding him to your entrance. he’s pulsing, hot and heavy in your hand as you rub his tip against your wet folds and feel his cock twitch as you shudder at the sensation of him grinding against your clit.

“then take it,” you murmur against the shell of his ear.

and he does—he doesn’t waste a single second before his cock sinks into you, curving along your walls perfectly as his tip presses against your sweet spot. you both moan at the intrusion, your chests touching and nipples grazing through the fabrics of your clothes.

“s-sweetheart,” he gasps shakily, “so tight, fuck you always feel so good.” 

“s-satoru,” you whimper, clutching onto his shirt, fisting it tightly in your hand as he bullies his fat tip deep into you with each snap of his hips. you feel his hair dampen with sweat as it brushes against the skin of your neck, walls clamping down on him tighter with every raspy moan he lets out as he burrows his face deeper into your shoulder.

“so good,” he mumbles, “feel this?” he growls, cock slamming into you as he rolls his hips harder, hands grasping your hips with an almost bruising grip. “anybody ever fuck you like this? make you feel this good?”

you don’t answer save for the choked sob you let out as his thumb rolls over your clit once more. 

“answer me,” he demands, hand leaving a warning slap against your clit, making your back arch off the mattress as you whine. “anyone else ever fuck you like me? or am i the only one?”

“you, jus’ you, toru,” you slur, “only ever you.” 

“‘s right,” he rasps, breath coming out in labored pants as his hips take a sloppier rhythm, balls slapping against your ass as your legs wrap tightly around his waist. moaning wantonly, his thumb rubs harshly at your clit once more to get you closer to your peak, feeling his own approach. “this pussy was made for me—never gonna feel anyone fuck you as full as me,” he reminds you, voice breaking off into a soft whine as he feels your clamp down on him. 

“close—‘m close,” you babble, chanting his name as your nails dig into his shoulder through his shirt. “gonna cum again, toru. p-please.”

“go ahead baby,” he pants, “cum for me, sweetheart.” your second orgasm crashes over you in tidal waves, body pressing up against his as your walls flutter around him tightly. you let out a muffled scream as his lips press onto yours in a messy kiss, drinking in your moans. 

with a few more snaps of his hips, his face falls to your chest, your hands cradling his head as he ruts his hips into your abused cunt, riding out his own high. you feel his cock twitch with each rope of cum, painting your walls white with thick spurts. 

“sh-shit, baby—that’s it. y-you’re something else, sweetheart,” he mumbles incoherently, feeling his cock throb with pleasure as he finishes. “can’t…can’t ever get enough of you.”

with a few last pumps of his hips, he collapses over you with a low groan, panting erratically along with you as you both catch your breaths. your hand moves to stroke through his sweaty locks, scratching weakly at his scalp as he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses to the exposed skin of your chest. 

“suguru’s gonna know we were in here,” you groan woefully, feeling gojo’s arms snake around your body as he flips you both over to lay your head on his chest. 

“yeah, so? he’s fucked plenty of girls in my room,” gojo shrugs. you make a face, glaring up at him in disgust. 

“and we sleep on that bed? where other naked girls have been?” smirking, gojo boops your nose before pressing a delicate kiss to your forehead. 

“i replaced the sheets.”

“not good enough,” you mutter through a pout. you shuffle to lay closer to him—until you feel something sticky leak down your thigh before you register damp cloth against your skin. “toru,” you gasp, slapping his chest, making him jump slightly at your outburst. 

“what?”

“my dress,” you scowl, “you ruined it.” 

and when he chuckles, simply collapsing against the mattress again as he pulls you closer, you think to yourself that perhaps you’ve spoiled gojo one too many times. 

“s’ok,” he chuckles, “told you i’d buy you another. a nicer one too, okay?”

“i liked this one,” you sulk. “i’m never letting you rope me into something like this again.”

“yeah?” he challenges, staring down at you with a smug look on his face—one that tells you he knows you a lot better than you think. “we’ll see, sweetheart. you seemed to enjoy yourself.”

“i’d say you both seemed to have enjoyed yourselves,” you hear an unimpressed voice say, making both of your heads shoot up in shock to meet geto’s pursed lips as he stands by the door with crossed arms. 

© sakusins do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend on platforms outside tumblr such as tik tok

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Peace Offering

Yandere Male Orc x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Dub-con/Non-con, smut, cock warming, orc, general yandere behavior, escape attempt, all a big misunderstanding) Word Count: 3.4k (I think I dropped the ball a bit on the smut scene, if it seems a bit disjointed that is because I wrote the last 1/3 of the fic over the course of 3-5 nights and I apologize, I still think it is good enough to post and the rest of the story makes up for it in my opinion, I hope you all enjoy.)  For as long as you could remember the people of your medium sized town had been caught in a fierce and bloody feud with the woodland orcs that had come from the mountains and settled the forest across the river from your home.  The bad blood between your peoples had gone on for so long that no one even remembered what had originally sparked the conflict.  Almost all of your fellow townsfolk were content with their bloodlust and thirst for revenge, but not you. You had always been interested in other cultures and the orcs were no exception, you knew if you could meet with their leader you could broker a truce!  Whenever you spoke out your wishes for peace and diplomacy most of your fellow townspeople just rolled their eyes at you, thinking you were hopeless. Orcs, to them, were ruthless barbarians that had to be put down.  But you were not to be deterred! You would do your best to put an end to the attacks on one another and you’d learn about their culture in the process!  You studied every piece of information available to you on orc customs and culture, it was mostly stuff you had already known, but it still gave you more confidence in your self appointed task.  You spent weeks making the preparations for your diplomatic trek into orc territory. Everything had to be absolutely perfect. You painstakingly made the proper robe. Not only did the style need to be specific but the color had to be lavender, which was the color for cooperation according to your research.  Finally the day came when you were ready, you set off in your attire, gaining many odd looks as you left the safety of your town.  You crossed the bridge that lead from one side of the river to the other. Soon you came to the edge of the sprawling forest that the orcs called home. Despite your resolve you were still extremely nervous. Not just about meeting the orcs, but also of wild animals, and you did not even have a weapon on you as if the orcs caught you with one they might assume that you had malicious intent.  With a deep breath to center yourself you entered the orc’s land. You called out loudly and clearly the orc term for peace, they spoke very little of your language and you had to make sure they knew your trespassing into their home was because you were on a mission of peace.  You held your hands up in the universal way to show that you had no weapons and were no threat to them. You traveled for several minutes, seeing no signs of any orcs, but they saw you almost immediately upon entering their land.  Nrybul, the orc leader, gasped when he saw you. A soft squishy little human walking right into his forest dawning the ceremonial courtship robes and calling out the orc term for “gift”. Your intent was abundantly clear to him. You were offering yourself, or being offered by your people, as a gift/mate to him for peace.  He was intrigued and decided to watch you warily for a few minutes to determine if this was a new human ploy.  When the orc man had decided that you were probably safe he and the guards he was on patrol with made themselves known to you. You almost fainted from fright as three large orcs, weapons in hand, slammed down from the trees and landed a mere few feet in front of you.  They each had to be 7 feet tall. At least.  One of the orcs approached you. He wore a full set of dark plate armor. Rough and rugged, it had clearly seen many battles. The visor of his helmet was up revealing his red eyes and two large, almost tusk like, bottom teeth. This could only be the infamous orc leader that instilled fear into humans on the battlefield.  You could see why, that armor made his already intimidating size that much scarier. You were shaking and sweating nervously.  The orc said something you could not understand, but it seemed neither angry nor hostile. He took you by the hand and gently pulled you close before picking you up bridal style. You yelped a bit in fear from so suddenly being literally swept off your feet.  Nrybul could see you shake and sweating. Poor thing, humans were softer than orcs, but you were clearly far more fragile than most humans. It must have tired you out so much to make the long track here.  It was no wonder to him that you were offering yourself or being offered as a peace tribute to a strong orc. You were so soft and delicate. Clearly no mere human could keep you safe. You were even shaky and exhausted from just a little walk. He was kind of angry that your fellow humans did not give you an escort, clearly you had a weak constitution. But no matter, you were with him now, and he would gladly take up the task of being your mate.  You had no idea why their leader had decided to pick you up, but he did it very gently. Orcs were known for many things, but their tenderness was notably absent from that list, so you took it as a good sign. If they had been taking you as a prisoner you would probably be marched to their town at sword point so you forced yourself to try and relax in his hold.  Though you were by no means able to speak fluent orc you managed to get across your name to Nrybul on the way to their home and you also managed to discern Nrybul’s name.  Nrybul quite liked your name, as even your very name sounded soft and delicate in comparison to orc names.  He said your name several times over the course of your journey, almost as if he was savoring it or trying to embed it in his brain. You of course took this as a positive sign you must have made a good impression!  At long last you came within view of their town, strong wooden walls were erected all around the perimeter with a small guard tower near the main gate. The other two orcs that had patrolled with their leader left and returned to patrol.  As Nrybul approached with you the guard on duty motioned for the gate to be opened and Nrybul entered. His choice to hold a human in this manner, and your attire, granted you two many quizzical looks, though no one said anything other than a curt nod or awkward greeting to their leader.  Your own personal orc escort noticed you were no longer shaking or sweating so he figured you might like to walk a bit and stretch your legs. Nrybul put you down gently and allowed you to walk beside him.  He took you with him into a well lit mine where a few human prisoners were supervised as they toiled for ore. You did not know their names but you recognized them as people from your town, they had been captured during a mission into orc territory and presumed dead.    While Nrybul had a discussion with the orc guarding the humans you told the prisoners that you were trying to establish peace. They ignored you and laughed, assuming you would soon add to their ranks. They were stunned in silence when they were lead out of the orc settlement and set free.  He released the prisoners! You had done it, this was a sure sign that your attempt at peace was solidified. You took a few steps intending to go with the released prisoners back home but Nrybul grabbed your wrist gently and pulled you back into town before the gate shut with a resounding thud.  Nrybul knew you just wanted to escort your friends back home, but he really could not go with you and he absolutely would not have you going without him. What if you became fatigued again? You should never be without him attending to you if you are going to be outside the walls. And, preferably, that would not be a thing that happened too often.    He really wanted you to get a meal and rest, as tomorrow you would need to officially consummate the union of yourselves and the peace between your people.  You were extremely confused as Nrybul guided you gently into a large building that you could tell by the amazing smell inside was clearly a dining hall of some type. Maybe he wanted to share a meal with you to commemorate an end to hostilities? Or maybe this was more a part of making peace than it was a celebration of it, like a tradition that must be respected to make it official.  Either way, you had no intention of offending him and ruining all of your hard work so you let him lead you into the building and sit you down at a table as he left for a few good minutes. When he returned he had removed his armor, his attire was sleaveless, showing off his large biceps. You could now see his long red hair. He was quite handsome and you blushed and looked down quickly, hoping he had not caught you staring at him.  He set down a plate of food for each of you and then sat himself down a bit uncomfortably close to you.  You did not notice because you were looking away in embarrassment, but Nrybul was smirking as he had certainly caught you checking out his muscles and looks in general. He was very pleased, he was glad his soon to be mate was so impressed with him.  You started eating when you felt his left arm wrap around your waist and pull you a bit closer. You were unsure what this gesture meant to their kind, but it made you a bit nervous. But of course you could not offend him for fear of the consequences so you allowed him to keep you close while you just looked down and focused on continuing your meal of roast boar and vegetables.  Nrybul thought you were just so cute, acting all shy as he pulled you close. It really endeared him to you how you had been so determined to offer yourself to him despite being as feeble as you were. And now you were all shy and blushing. You were such a perfect mate for him.    When you finished your food you had expected to be allowed to leave. There was still enough daylight to make it home in time before dark. But Nrybul had a different idea of where your home was.  Nrybul held your hand and guided you once more. He lead you towards what was clearly his personal house. This was where you thought something may be wrong, from all the reading you had done you knew orcs did not allow strangers into their homes.  Could it have been possible that all of your gestures and behaviors had been indicative of a desire for courtship? He did seem to hold your hand a lot… But orc sex was rough and you were rather small, Nrybul was handsome, but you did not really intend to leave your friends, family, and home.  You noticed that a hunting party was coming back into the town and the gates where wide open. Screw peace, you did not want to upheave your entire life for it!    You slipped out of his loose hold on your hand and bolted across the town and through the gates. You left the trail so you would not be spotted so easily and headed in the direction that would take you home.  You did not spare the second that it would take to look back, but you heard him call out your name in the distance. You ducked low and made your way slowly through the bushes and weeds and crept away, hoping that they would pass you by on the trail and not bother to search off of it. Or at least not until you were gone.  Your heart was pounding, your legs were shaky, and you were sweating profusely both from the effort of getting away and from the anxiety that flooded you. You had not heard anything in a while so you started running as fast as your burning legs could carry you.  It looked like you were actually going to escape, the bridge would be in view soon and from there it would not be a long way to your home.  Suddenly though you were yanked back from behind, you screamed and kicked but Nrybul hardly noticed as he carefully put you over his shoulder and began the walk back to his town. You continued struggling for a minute or two, but soon gave up due to sheer exhaustion and the fact that he was clearly much stronger than you could ever hope to be. He was not even panting from the chase or from holding you.  Nrybul had actually been thrilled you had ran, as it is an old orc tradition that one mate must chase the other and capture them before their union is consummated. Not many still practice it, but it made him more than happy that you were so invested in immersing yourself in his culture. In fact, because of your efforts he was now sure that he absolutely loved you.  In truth though he was worried, you had demonstrated such a frail constitution earlier and were just so small and weak compared to a big orc man such as himself. He had actually been close to you the entire time, but he did not want to catch you too soon and make you feel like you were weak or unworthy of a proper chase. You had put so much effort into respecting his traditions, he did not need to show off and catch you immediately.  Nrybul decided he would wait a bit and when you seemed too tired he would snatch you up and then once he had you he would take you back to his bed for a nice, deep, well deserved fucking.  Soon enough you were already being carried back through the gates and into his town and shortly after you were entering his home. He wasted no time in rushing you to his bedroom and laying you stomach side down on his bed.  You dreaded what would certainly be a very rough and traumatic sexual encounter with a large orc.  That isn’t exactly what happened though. Nrybul had taken note of the fact that you were so delicate and would never risk hurting you. You were his little human mate, it would be dishonorable and cruel to hurt you. He gingerly removed your garments and appreciated your naked form from behind.  He disrobed then traced his strong hands along your sides down to your ass which he then groped.  Nrybul began massaging your ass cheeks. He figured the day had been very eventful for you and he was sure that you were eager to mate with him and make everything official, but he could tell you were very tense.  The orc pulled some special oil, a secret orc recipe, from a drawer and coated his hands before applying some to your shoulders, back, ass, and legs. It smelled strongly of spice with a hint of citrus. He firmly massaged your shoulders and neck first. The massage was very relaxing, but you were still extremely nervous.  He proceeded to massage down your body thoroughly. Leaving no inch of your back, butt, legs, or feet untouched by his loving ministrations. You realized that there must have been something in that oil he used because now you were very relaxed. At least physically. Despite your anxiety and fear your body remained at ease.  Seeing that you were feeling better from the treatment he had provided Nrybul decided it was time to start readying your hole so he could mate with his beloved (Y/N). He applied more of the special oil to your entrance, liberally applying it until you were dripping. He took one of his large thumbs and kneaded it into your hole as carefully as he could until he could slide in a few fingers into you easily.  The oil must have also enhanced sexual sensations because even just his fingers felt amazing inside of you. Nrybul massaged your insides until you were almost ready to come from his fingers alone, but before he did he stopped and lubed his fully erect cock.  Earlier you had your head buried in a pillow but when he stopped using his fingers in you you looked over and saw his dick for the first time. It stood, almost proudly, at a bit over 10 inches. But you were so eager and stretched now from him fingering your hole that you were now a little less nervous and a little more eager to have it inside you.  You would not have to wait long at all. Nrybul climbed on the bed with you so small and vulnerable below him. He lined up his throbbing cock with your entrance and prodded you before exceedingly slowly sliding into you. Despite the prior loosening it taking him fully still hurt a bit. Mercifully he kept the pace slow as he thrust in and out of your depths.  Quickly the small twinge of pain was replaced by waves of pleasure.  You heard Nrybul whispering your name gruffly over and over as he pumped into you. The orc was still going at a snail’s pace, afraid to hurt his tiny human, but it was agonizingly slow for you at this point.  You moved yourself back against his thrusts until he got the message. Seeing how you were handling him so well and how eager you were for his dick he began plunging into you in earnest. He still was far gentler with you than he would be with an orc partner of course, just a bit harder and faster than he had been with you previously. You whined in an exhilarating mix of pain and pleasure as you felt your stomach bulge out a bit from his sheer size penetrating you fully.  Disappointingly he pulled out, but it was only to flip you over on your back so he could see your face as he mated with you. Nrybul drove his cock back fully into you easily and continued at a steady pace, his large nuts smacking you loudly as you were fucked.  He started speeding up a little more as he stroked a strand of your hair out of the way and pressed a surprisingly soft kiss to your forehead. Then, as he thrust deeply and filled you thoroughly with copious amounts of warm orc cum, he slammed his lips roughly into yours and kissing you in a manner more in line with how you think orcs typically kiss.  You came hard while he kissed you as his still throbbing cock continued pumping cum into you. Nrybul kept you on his cock as he laid down and repositioned the both of you to be laying down. He laid behind you, holding you closely.  As he started to fall asleep with his stiff cock still firmly inside of you Nrybul could not be more content with the peace offering he had been given. He would have settled the costly feud between your town for much less than what he had received, but he would gladly accept and keep this perfect mate that had been offered to him.  You tried to squirm free from his strong arms and cock, but he did not even notice your resistance, leaving you to pout and accept your place as his cock warmer as he began snoring peacefully behind you.  The former prisoners would tell everyone you had them released and lasting peace would be cemented between your people, and all it took was accidentally giving yourself to a large orc warrior who wanted nothing more than to own you, baby you, keep you safe, and fuck you constantly.     

[messysketchyobeyme]

Not a Nightmare

Lucifer/Reader

Summary:

Lucifer doesn't get nightmares, nor does he need comfort for one.

A/N:

Lucifer does pin MC down at one point, so keep that in mind!

Word Count: 1,578

---

The door to your bedroom creaked open. A sliver of light from the hallway shone against your face. You opened your eyes to see a tall figure standing in the doorframe. His fingers clung to the edge of the door, as his face peered inside your bedroom. His eyebrows perked up when he saw you staring back at him.

"I apologize," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I didn't mean to wake you." 

You rubbed your right eye with the back of your wrist. "That's okay, Lucifer. I wasn't sleeping anyway." You sat up, ignoring the way his fingers twitched. "What are you doing here anyway? Did you throw up?"

Lucifer's nose wrinkled in disgust. "No," he said, "I check up on everyone before I go to bed. It's grown into a habit of mine." There was a quick beat before he continued. "Since I have done what I set out to do, I suppose this is goodnight." 

He moved to close the door but stopped. You wouldn't say he was hesitating per se, but it did seem like he was waiting for something. You stared at Lucifer, already dressed in his blue silk pajamas. His hair was combed through, but a couple of unruly strands stuck up in the back of his head. You grinned.

"Aw, did poor wittle Lucifer have a bad dream?" You teased him. The end of your sentence was punctuated with a short chuckle.

Lucifer groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. He muttered something under his breath that sounded vaguely like a swear. "I refuse to dignify that with a response."

"So, that's a yes."

"No. It's a no. I don't have nightmares."

You scoot over to the side of your bed. "Everyone has nightmares, silly. I mean, just last week Mammon told me about how he dreamt about a haunted peanut butter sandwich." You pulled down the blanket so that the spot next to you was uncovered. "Trust me. It was scarier than it sounds."

Lucifer scoffed. "Are you trying to compare me to Mammon?"

You fluffed up the pillow to your side. "I'm just saying that having nightmares is a perfectly normal part of growing up."

"Don't talk to me like I'm some child."

You smiled at him and tilted your head toward the space next to you. When he didn't budge, you said, "So…"

Lucifer's eyebrows furrowed together. It looked like he was about to pop a blood vessel. "So what?"

"So, are you going to get into bed with me or not?"

Lucifer's lips pressed into a thin line. He opened the door wider. "Like I said, I only came here to check up on you. I'm not staying the night."

"Most people like to be comforted after having a nightmare."

"I did not have a nightmare."

You settled back into bed, pulling the blanket up to your chin. "Alright, fine. I get it. You didn't have a bad dream or whatever," you said. You tilted your head so that the hallway light was no longer hitting your face. "Well, I'm going to sleep. 'Night." 

You closed your eyes and waited to hear the familiar click of your door. When that didn't happen, you cracked open one eye. Lucifer was lingering in the doorway. He was giving you a long, hard stare like he was analyzing you under a microscope. 

"I could spare a few minutes," Lucifer said quietly.

"Then, what are you waiting for?" You looked expectantly at him, as he stepped inside your bedroom and closed the door behind him. He shuffled over to your bed. Without making a sound, he lifted the blanket and lay beside you. 

Your bed wasn't small by any means, but it wasn't made to hold two people. Even with the vines along the wall pressing against your back, Lucifer's shoulder was still touching you. You didn't mind. Lucifer's body warmth was a welcome comfort, especially when a certain someone turned off the heat at night to save electricity, despite being rich enough not to need to do that. 

Lucifer's scent took over your senses. He smelled a little like hell coffee. You wondered if he downed a cup before heading over here. You wouldn't be surprised considering the proximity of the kitchen to your room.

As he was getting comfortable, you asked, "Do you really check up on your brothers every night before bed?"

He nodded. "I do. I mainly do it to make sure Mammon isn't sneaking out to gamble all of our life savings at the casino, again."

"Is there another reason?”

Lucifer shot you an annoyed look before sighing. He turned away from you, focusing his attention on the ceiling. 

"You're right." Lucifer's voice was so quiet that you strained to hear him properly. "It's odd, but I can't seem to relax if I don't know where they are at night." He glanced over in your direction. "That includes you."

You let out an endeared huff of air. "You really care about them, huh?" It was sweet knowing how much he loved his brothers…and you, you guessed. You reached over and placed your hand on his chest. You felt the hammering of his heartbeat and sighed.

Lucifer laid his calloused hand on top of yours. You don’t think you’ve ever felt his bare hands before. It was rare to see him gloveless. For some inexplicable reason, your cheeks grew warm.

“I care about you, too.”

“I know.”

You lifted your hand out from under his hand. He flashed you a confused look before you started to squeeze his cheek between your thumb and forefinger. 

He huffed, “Stop that.” Lucifer shoved your hand away.

“Aw, but your cheeks are so soft and puffy.” You reached over to poke his cheek, but Lucifer was quick to stop you. “It’s fun.”

“They’re not puffy.” He smacked your arm aside. “I will leave if you don’t stop irritating me.”

“No, you won’t.” Before you could poke him again, Lucifer grabbed your wrist and pinned your arm to the bed. “Hey!” you protested, ready to fend him off with your other hand. He caught that one, too, and pinned it down next to your head for good measure.

Now, Lucifer was leaning over you. He was scowling, but you were hoping that there was at least some level of enjoyment hidden underneath his annoyed gaze. “I hope you’re ready for your punishment.”

“Punishment?” You swallowed anxiously. Being Lucifer’s soft spot, you were rarely the subject of any of his punishments, no matter how defiant and rude you were. (You suspected that he liked it when you did those things, but you never commented on it.)

You weren’t sure what Lucifer could be planning, but if it was anything similar to the stuff he forced onto his brothers, you have the right to be at least worried.

Lucifer moved so that he was holding both of your wrists in one hand over your head. “Be prepared to face my wrath.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut. Your mind reeled with all of the possible things Lucifer could do to you. He could…could…okay, you actually had no idea but there was no way it would be good.

Something pinched your cheek. You opened an eye to see Lucifer grinning at you. “What?” you said, your voice slightly muffled by Lucifer dragging your cheek out to the side.

He began poking at your cheek repeatedly. “You’re right. This is fun.” Lucifer chuckled. “You should have seen the look on your face.” When you stuck out your tongue, he said, “Now, now, there’s no need to resort to such childish methods.” He squeezed the sides of your lips, forcing you to make kissy faces at him. 

Lucifer started to give you a dreamy, far-off look. It wasn’t the type of expression you were used to seeing on a usually stoic demon. You had no idea what he was thinking about, and you weren’t keen on finding out. 

While Lucifer was distracted, you wiggled out of his grip. Before he could open his mouth to protest, you shoved him to the side and pinned him down on his back. “Got you,” you said.

You expected Lucifer to go back to being annoyed, but he started laughing, instead. It made you falter for a second. “S-sorry,” he managed to stutter out through his laughter. Lucifer tried speaking again once he began to calm down. “It’s just that…you’re…you are quite endearing.”

“Gee, thanks,” you said. 

Lucifer glanced at the clock at the far side of your wall. “It’s getting late. Why don’t you settle down and get some sleep? We both have to be up early tomorrow.”

“Excuse me? Why don’t I settle down? You’re the one who started this!” Despite your words, you moved to get off of Lucifer and laid back down in bed. You pulled the covers over yourself, and Lucifer did the same.

“I disagree,” Lucifer said, taking the time to tuck your comforter up to your chin. You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you said.

“Good night.”

You closed your eyes. After a second or two, you called out into the dark, “Hey, Lucifer?”

“Yes?”

“Do you feel better? After your nightmare?”

There was a long period of silence. You wondered if Lucifer was going to start arguing with you again, but a low laugh stopped that line of thinking.

“Yes,” he muttered, “Yes, I do feel better.”

[bbanghiitomi]

| killing me softly with your song

synopsis: what if you were a talented child prodigy once? living life in lavish, spending years in the spotlight but a tragedy happens and you're forced to leave and hide. what if you meet a super hard-headed girl on the docks? what if you fall in love with her?

— nonidol!guitarist!kminji! × nonidol!pianist!fem!reader

(⁠￣⁠(⁠ｴ⁠)⁠￣⁠)⁠ﾉ (⁠￣⁠(⁠ｴ⁠)⁠￣⁠)⁠ﾉ (⁠￣⁠(⁠ｴ⁠)⁠￣⁠)⁠ﾉ(⁠￣⁠(⁠ｴ⁠)⁠￣)

“miss! hey! what are you doing?!” minji shouts from a few meters away as she spots a girl standing by a lone boat just floating near the docks, staring aimlessly at the sunset, while her hand is gripping the gunwale of the boat, just a gust of wind enough to knock her to the ocean and leave her drowning. minji furrows her brows at how you ignored her. she couldn't believe such a reckless person would just be standing at the edge of the docks and waiting for someone to push them into the sea.

“miss, you can't just stand there, it's dangerous! did you see the waves? if the boat gets knocked over there's a chance you'll drown!” minji continues to express her stress over the stubborn girl standing by the boat surrounded by other boats. if you were to fall over it'll be hard for you to swim upwards due to the boats floating around the area of the water.

minji runs to your direction and from afar you feel the vibration of her platform shoes hitting the wooden floor of the dock, you look behind to see her figure running towards you and you squint, bending your lips to a frown before once again turning your back against her. “please don't ignore me, you really shouldn't be out here at this hour.” minji adds, starting to get frustrated at your stubborn behavior that she couldn't quite understand.

you can hear most of what she was saying but has a hard time forming coherent thoughts of what was clearly said. you step out of the boat, with minji looking intently at your footsteps and guarding you if you ever fall. “careful —” she mutters, in which you shrug her by saying.

“move.” simply just like that you stand on the wooden platform of the dock while she looks at you in disbelief, your eyes still watching the sunset being buried under the dark shadows of the mountain. to your interest, you didn't care about what minji thinks — she is nothing more than a stranger who thinks they know what to tell you. she's just like those other people who think they can boss you around with what you want to do with your life.

minji squints her eyes and frowns. “are you not leaving yet?” she asks, you hear it this time although it was still quite muffled you knew what she is pertaining to.

“why do you care?” you ask her, your frank tone indicating the irritation you get by her constant prying over your business. minji scoffs, shaking her head. “hey, i’ve been calling out to you for the past few minutes because what you're doing is dangerous. did you even hear me?” you glare at her, your eyes narrowing as if warning her with every single word she says.

“i asked, why do you care?” you repeat the question but with a tone harsher than the first time. minji freezes — eyes darting at your eyes and the frown on your lips, unsure what to feel at the sudden nonchalant outburst. she starts to feel how her heartbeat got faster, her hands were shaking and she doesn't understand why she's suddenly so nervous.

“b-because… my family… they own the boat and if you fall over and drown, we’re screwed.” minji’s eyes soften as if she was begging, for you to understand and stop being mean! you stare at her eyes only for a bit, to her brown pupils then to her tall nose bridge. “fine, i’ll leave.” you mutter before leaving, the sole of your shoes tapping the wood surface.

minji watches you leave before following like a tail, you don't realize nor quite hear her but you feel the vibrations of her shoes along with yours. “i feel like you're following me.” you tell her, not even bothering to turn around and look at the tall girl. minji shrugs. “i am, it's dark here and you didn't even tell me your name.” she says, it ticks off something inside of you and you stop walking to take a deep breath.

“would it kill you to leave me alone? or do you want a restraining order against you?” you frankly tell her, expressing annoyance in her pursuit. minji looks at the back of your head and shakes her head. “no… i promise, i’m not a bad guy. it's just because i've never seen your face before and what if something bad happens to you?” minji expressed benevolently, standing still as if waiting for your answer.

“i live in the building standing beside the nakamura suite.” you tell her, your tone is apathetic — you couldn't care whoever this person was, what's her business and what she wants. but you find her amusing, a little — maybe it her persistence, her diligent aura and how she really wants to chase after you as if it'll gain her anything.

minji looks up on the night sky and sees the two tall buildings standing right next to each other, with the nakamura suite being taller and sparkling under the dark skies.

“wow…” she whispers.

“i’m nakamura y/n.” you face her once again, your eyes darting at her pair of round eyes — with a small tug of your lips, you take her breath away.

“i’m kim minji.” she mutters under her breath, left in awe with every second she stands right in front of you.

“you're just gonna stare or what?” your voice is assertive as you ask her.

minji blinks and laughs, rubbing her hands together and finding herself avoiding your distant gaze. “uh, i don't know. i have a car… if you don't mind i can give you a ride.” minji bites her bottom lip in hesitance, embarrassment of some sort — there's a lingering curiosity inside of her stemming from your mysterious presence and the looming aura of elegance.

“i don’t.” you answer her short and quick.

minji nods and leads you to a small front yard, where a old and used car is parked. minji dashes to the door of the driver's seat and grabs the keys dangling by her waist and unlocks the door, she — you couldn't believe it — crawls on the seat and started swatting non-existent objects on the passenger's seat and the backseat.

“...what are you doing?” you ask her, raising a brow at minji — your tone derisive as you speak.

minji groans as she crawls back out of the car and looks at you. “i just made sure it's not messy inside.” minji smiles. you nod and walk your way towards the passenger seat and notice her following behind.

you look at her as you stop in front of the car door and as you were about to reach for the door, minji immediately opens it for you. you take a step back, surprised.

you were about to speak but decided to just enter inside the car and sit properly.

minji runs to the hop inside the driver’s seat and starts buckling the belt. you follow her motions and relax your weight on the seat.

the drive to the building was quiet, you stare at the window outside while the gusting wind continues to blow your hair from your face. it's quite comforting, the scenery of the small houses and the blow of cold fresh air, it's enough to put you in a sense of tranquility — away from the noises of the bustling shibuya streets, screams of greedy people that burns inside your head, banging your eardrums till it hurt, too much.

sometimes, when you stare at a pool of water — it feels like the underwater is calling out to you, for you to jump. the feeling of water surrounding you, where you have nowhere else to turn to, nowhere else to swim but just a shallow water and a surface so far from your reach and you’re close to losing oxygen — the immense strength of the underwater slowly crushing your weak body and the lack of sound that is muffled by the water blocking your ears, everything is all too familiar for you.

that's probably why you were so pulled by the ocean waves around the small boat you were standing on earlier, and the bright sun that's about to set and disappear.

it hits way too close to home.

it's the same feeling of being under pressure, when your fingers are reaching for the piano keys, trembling with every second that passes by and it feels like you're stuck, unable to move or run away because there's just nowhere else for you to hide. you can't hear anything but the muffled noises of chatters from a sea of audiences, watching you from their seats and the light from the chandeliers of the theater is blinding.

suddenly, you can't hear anything.

“...y/n?”

“hey… you there?”

“...here…”

“miss!” you shoot your eyes open when you hear minji’s voice, you look at her with a glare but immediately change expression when you notice her confused expression.

“are you okay?” she asks, you blink and notice your eyes are wet… from tears. you wipe them away as you nod your head dismissively. “...yeah, i’m okay.” you tell her, you look at the window and see the entrance of the nakamura building.

you couldn't help but feel — annoyed, mad or whatever it is you just don't understand, you open the door and close it almost immediately before minji could react.

“y/n!” she calls for you but you have already ran away.

minji sits there, confused and asking herself what just happened but how would she know? it's making her crazy just how odd you were, how odd things are.

CAMPLAB (light music club)

danielle: where was aristotle when all of this was happening?

hanni: wth do you expect aristotle to do?

hanni: plus, calm down kim chaewon is just being dramatic.

hanni: how else would she stop us from being an active band? we don't need validations from prefects!

danielle: i certainly think we do if we want to actually have a degree in the future.

danielle: i just don't understand why she won't let us have the empty clubroom when we’re legitimate!

danielle: i can play drums and you can play bass, minji’s good at guitar! what else does she need?

hanni: minji we know you're online, can you at least help us think!

minji: idk i’m thinking too.

hanni: i doubt it.

minji: i swear i am.

danielle: where were you even at yesterday? i came to visit your family’s gift shop and you weren't there.

hanni: i doubt your rusty car could even travel past the bus stop.

hanni: HA! maybe you were getting it repaired or something.

minji: can you get ur brain repaired too?

minji: let's all be serious, it's the college board’s decision to not allow us. chaewon’s just following the rules, we can't have the clubroom if we don't get our letter signed, we can't get it signed if we only have three members.

hanni: oh god.

danielle: so does that mean we have to recruit? how else would we do that?

minji: geez, idk. maybe play a gig somewhere and find people in our campus who is interested.

minji: i just can't think right now…

hanni: whatever, can we at least meet at the campus park?

“but seriously minji, where were you yesterday?” danielle looks at minji as she speak, minji’s eyes are somewhere staring at nothing… she can't process the present, stuck at what happened yesterday, all minji could think about is you.

“right, i thought you were at the dock yesterday. it's not like a girl is in your business, i doubt any girl would even look at you.” hanni adds, taking a bite out of her bread. minji sighs exasperatedly, rolling her eyes before she scoffs. “can you choke on that bread of yours? you act as if you don't go out your way to get noticed by that loser from the basketball team.” minji bites back.

“she's not a loser, she's ahn yujin! and unlike you she actually knows how to impress girls.” hanni huffs, danielle laughs at the bickering duo before butting in.

“was there a problem in the docks?” she asks.

minji closes her eyes to think, was it really a problem? minji doesn't know how to describe her situation yesterday, she's certainly sure she's isn't dreaming or seeing things.

“kind of, there was this girl who was standing on our boat by the docks, surrounded by other boats. she's just there… unmoving, and i got so nervous because it was dangerous so i asked her to leave but she couldn't hear the first two times i called her.” minji tells the story, the three of time stops by a table around the park’s corner.

“and what happened?” hanni leans on the table, invested.

“she was so, how do i descirbe this? skittish? i don't know. then she got off and just stared at the sunset. i asked her if she was leaving and she aksed my why do i even care. i told her it's dangerous and she repeated the question again. i told her we owned the boat and if she drowns we’ll be in trouble but when she was about to leave i asked her what her name was.” minji continues.

“what was her name..?” danielle asks.

minji looks at her friends. “she said she lived in the building near the nakamura suites, her name is nakamura y/n. i offered to give her a ride on my car to the building and she said yes. but when we stopped, she was crying. i don't know why but then she just ran away out of the car then inside the building.” minji fiddles with her fingers, the two girls look at each other, confused.

“why was she crying?” hanni asks. “did you do something bad!?” danielle points her finger at her friend.

minji shakes her head and puts her hands up. “no! i also don't know why!”

danielle brings her hands down and frowns. “then why?”

“maybe some personal stuff? probably you know? she's just sad.” hanni answers and they all shrug, taken back by the story.

minji was determined to see you again, it doesn't matter where and when but she's sure she'll find you somewhere on this island once again.

she's thrilled by the idea of you, your mysteriousness, the secrets behind your sharp eyes and harsh gazes — the way your lip taks, the words that slip out of your tongue. you're like a rose, tempting but covered in prickling thorns and such a sight to look at, unattainable at a certain point but with enough determination and persistence she can reach out for you, even if it meant shedding blood.

at the football field, danielle forced minji, hanni, haerin, and hyein to all play baseball — even if it meant playing at the wrong place. minji was sure things were about to get nasty when hanni starts hitting the ball a little too hard.

“hanni! there's windows on the other side of the field! if you get someone murdered, it's over for us!” minji warns hanni, motioning to her neck as if telling her they're dead if an accident was to happen.

“oh stop being a bitch! that's not gonna happen i swear!” hanni hisses, trudging her way to the faux home base out of minji’s old chemistry textbook.

and minji knew it, not even after five minutes, with a swing of the bat and danielle’s powerful pitch, the baseball comes flying straight into a window, crashing onto the glass and breaking it apart.

“holy shit hanni!” minji shouts and screams from the other girls are heard, hanni drops the baseball bat and puts her hands on her head. “we're screwed!” she shouts. “shut up!” minji shushes them and looks at the broken window. “i’m gonna go there and be quiet! leave this field and go to the campus park, i’ll be back.”

“minji are you serious?” haerin asks but minji dashes out of the field to the school building.

after scaling the floor and the number of rooms, minji comes to the conclusion that the room might be on the 4th floor and the 3rd room. she runs to the stairs and looks around to see if everyone has spotted her. after securing the perimeters, she rushes to the said room and is met by a sight she couldn't believe had just happened.

you lay on the cold floor, motionless, a pool of blood under your head and there were sheets of music notes scattered around your unconscious body. minji takes a step inside and looks around the room to find the baseball on the corner of the room. she tries to gather her courage and think properly. if the ball is not covered by blood nor is it sitting next to your body, then does that mean something happened to you before the ball hit the window?

and not even the traction of the ball made it possible for it to hit you, as it was too far on the top corner of the window.

she reaches for your body and notices you're still breathing, minji breathes heavily and carries your body outside of the music room. she immediately spots the nurse’s office and calls for help.

“what happened?” the designated doctor of the building asks as she sees your state in minji’s arms. “i don't know, i entered the room and saw her lying motionless!” minji places you on the bed and walks backwards while the doctor examines you.

minji hears the doctor call for an ambulance and she stands there, confused.

“minji, does she have her belongings inside the room you found her? grab it and get inside the ambulance. i’m gonna have to call her parents in the meanwhile.” minji nods and immediately rushes to collect your things you left inside the music room, as she comes back — her eyes land on the music sheets once again and it drives her crazy how they're all crumpled and somewhere ripped apart. she sees your bag and grabs it before running and following the group of paramedics.

as the ambulance rushes, her eyes are on your temple that's covered in gauze, your eyes that are tightly shut. she feels bad, paranoid at your condition but she tries to keep looking at you.

minji’s heart is beating so hard inside her chest and she leans in order to get a better look at your face, she lifts her hand and reaches for your face to push the strands of hair sticking to your face.

“you’ll be okay, i’ll make sure of that.” minji whispers, feeling a sense of responsibility inside of her, the need to protect and keep you safe — yet, she doesn't understand where this feeling is blossoming, it's just there, she knows it's there.

your body shifts, almost surprising her. your eyelids move, and your eyes open to look at minji but there it is again — the bright light blocking your view of her face and the loud ringing of silence, blasting in your ears.

after a while, you're finally safe and the college heads are investigating what happened — they haven't come to a conclusion yet but the whole group chat with minji and her friends is chaotic, all of them thinking they're in trouble.

SEPTIC BANK

hanni: FUCK MY LIFEEEE

hanni: is it really over for us?

hanni: what about my dream of becoming a popstar?

danielle: they're investigating the music room, and the baseball was left by the corner of the room…

haerin: minji didn't take it?

hyein: no, nakamura was lying on the floor under scattered music sheets with a pool of blood…

hyein: she carried nakamura’s body to the nurse’s office and got inside the ambulance with her.

hanni: oh we’re actually fucking dead istg!!!

hanni: I’M A CRIMINAL!!! I CAN'T BELIEVE I MURDERED SOMEONE!!

haerin: you didn't kill anyone.

haerin: somehow i’m sure the baseball wasn't the cause of the accident.

haerin: besides, we can ask minji for some updates as soon as nakamura wakes up.

hyein: yeah, but if they ever find out it's us. we're screwed, she's kazuha nakamura’s sister and from my research they're popular and rich.

danielle: well… they’re the daughters of the owner of the nakamura suites and kazuha’s a well-known ballerina.

haerin: now i think we're definitely screwed.

haerin: how about you plan your migration back to vietnam hanni?

hanni: oh you're not helping are you?

hanni: LOOK i know it was stupid and i am ready to apologize BUT what if they sue me???

hyein: i do believe it's not our fault, look from what i’ve heard y/n’s got some serious problems.

danielle: now you're calling her crazy?

hyein: no! it's just that she's a famous child prodigy in japan, and has played piano since she was born.

hyein: you can go look it up!

hyein: but one day, during a tournament when she was 14 in switzerland, in the middle of her performance she stopped midway and completely blacked out. she sat on the chair unmoving and suddenly she was clutching her ears and crying.

hyein: for 4 more years, she tried to regain her skills back but it was getting harder.

haerin: i heard she’s got some hearing problems.

hyein: YES! that's why she's given up playing piano and settled here.

hanni: what does that have to do with me obliterating her!???

danielle: yeah, i mean maybe she's deaf or something but what does that mean?

hyein: panic attacks, explains the scattered paper all over the floor and ripped pages of music sheets.

hyein: look, i might be grasping on threads here but hear me out! she must've passed out and fell from the chair.

haerin: i get it.

minji buries her face in her palms as she sighs, she can't reply to any of the messages because of the paranoia inside her — she can't do anything while thinking of your situation, she can't just do anything knowing you're still unconscious.

“wake up please…” minji mutters to herself.

as if the heaven heard her prayer, your hand shifts, she takes notice of it and stands up — it hasn't been that long since you wasn taken to the hospital but it already feels like forever.

your eyes open to see minji looking at you, still the light is bright but you were able to make out her facial structures, her long hair and her eyes.

“minji..?” you mutter, minji smiles and nods. “yeah, it's me.”

you remember what happened.

again, alone at the music room and the surroundings felt shallow, your fingertips are trembling as you force yourself to play a piece — you're not even using your ears anymore, you read along the lines of the music sheet following the notes and imagine as if you were playing with the waves of the ocean.

but it's so hard to play music without hearing anything.

you stop abruptly, smashing your hands on the keys — feeling the warm tears prickling in the corner of your eyes as the sound of the keys in unison exploded inside the room, but you couldn't even hear it.

you hate it so much, so much that you grab the sheets of paper and start ripping them apart and crumpling them, shoving them all to the wooden floor. tears continue to pour out of your eyes, as if the room is about to be flooded you couldn't breathe properly and just like that — you lost consciousness and fell.

but, how did minji even find you?

“why are you here?” you ask her, your voice is weak. minji’s eyes soften and you notice the way she looks at you, don't know whether to like it or not, be insulted or comforted.

“sorry, my friend smashed a ball on the window of the music room, i came to get it and saw you passed out with blood. i— i carried you to the nurse's office and the doctor patched you up before telling me to come with you to the hospital. your parents are on the way.” minji explains, she's in a rush — you can only understand a few of what she's saying, because the ringing inside your ears hasn't stopped yet.

“i don't remember a ball hitting the windows.” you mutter, thinking minji might be lying. minji widens her eyes, surprised.

have you forgotten?

“uh what? wait, you don't remember anything —”

“i do. i just don't know what ball you are talking about. i passed out immediately after i fell off the chair.” you tell minji, she nods and is about to add to her explanation when the door opens.

“y/n!” your parents enter inside, minji immediately moves out of the way and to the door — she leaves.

minji hears the sound of the bustling hospital corridors, numerous people walking around, doctors, nurses, and patients. she stands outside your room and looks down to her shoes. now that your parents are here, she figured it was time for her to leave, which — even if she didn't want to yet, she still did.

SEPTIC BANK

minji: guys

hanni: OH MY GOD MINJI

hanni: WHAT HAPPENED????

hanni: AM I SCREWED??

haerin: ur back

haerin: how did it went?

danielle: YOU'RE SAFE!!

minji: i am. i went home after her parents entered her hospital room.

hyein: wait, what did her parents say?

minji: i don’t know, but y/n told me something.

hanni: WHAT IS IT?

minji: she said, she doesn't remember nor know that a baseball hit the window of the music room.

minji: she said, she passed out immediately after she fell off the chair.

hyein: SEE I TOLD YOU

hyein: she panicked and probably lost her consciousness

haerin: does that mean we're not guilty?

danielle: must be, but how are we so sure?

minji: not so sure, they're investigating the music room and tests are still about to be revealed.

hanni: oh…

hanni: ༼⁠;⁠´⁠༎ຶ⁠ ⁠۝ ⁠༎ຶ⁠༽

minji finds herself standing on the dock where she first saw you, based on hyein’s research — you were really playing piano, and that accident that happened to you was a result of your panic attacks. minji thinks to herself, what happened?

she's so curious, worried or sick — she wants to know so badly, what's the reason why you feel that way?

minji needs to hold you in her arms, rock you and make sure no one hurts you.

but how is she supposed to do that?

she can't even reach you, you're so far from her. like a moth to a fire, she's drawn to your danger — drawn to your fiery and brightness. “i should've gotten her phone number.” minji mutters, hands on her mouth, thinking hard when she can see you again. “but it would be stupid of me to ask her.” she adds.

minji regrets letting you go every time, if only she can grasp you only for a moment and just hold you — it sounds like she's desperate, but seeing you like that makes minji more drawn to you. minji paces around the wooden platform, the sunsets above her, the waves are calm.

when am i going to see you again?

“whoever got that damn baseball on the window will pay for this!” your father grumbles as he paces around your room, you follow him with your eyes as you sit on your bed, a gauze in your temple from the injury you sustained that day.

“i told you, it's not because of the ball.” you tell your father, not even trying to calm him down — you understand that anger blinds him, and he loses his motor skills to comprehend the situation without finding a way to use his power in it. “but there's evidence! the ball hit the window and it hit you!” he argues, you understand his point but there's your own memories that serve you correctly.

you really don't remember a ball entering the music room.

“and that girl, the daughter of the kim gift shop — i know she and her stupid friends have something to do with this.” he adds, as if it changes anything. you can only shake your head in disbelief.

you can't help but think of minji, about when she was inside the ambulance with you — the silhouette in your view.

she really did save you, according to the campus doctor — minji wasn't lying about her entry.

“just a few more hours, we'll receive the reports from the investigation. for now, can you please give some time to think. i need to rest.” you speak, eyes not even bothering to look at your father. it's hard to look at him, even after that incident from 4 years ago, it's still hard to look at his face after he told you your performance wasn't enough.

it kills you, still.

and suddenly the air inside your room becomes suffocating just five minutes after your father left, you're itching to come see the dock again and you're hoping (denying) to see minji once again.

the air feels a lot more like reality when you step your foot in the dock, your eyes are at the sunset — the ocean that illuminates the color of the skies, the sound of waves and the blow of the wind. you feel human once again, like you're actually alive and that you're a person — with feelings and thoughts.

and not just a robot programmed by society and family expectations.

for once you felt like you weren't a burnout.

“y/n..?” minji stands behind you, you turn around and see her — a gig bag behind her, she stands still and her eyes try to look for something in yours. you blink and walk forward. “yes, why did you leave so early?” you ask her — minji laughs sheepishly, blushing and she can't help but feel embarrassed by the troubling warmth of her cheeks.

“uh, your parents, i figured you might need more time with them.” she shrugs and scratches her cheek, you feel something blossoming inside of you — something you think is unfamiliar, something so out of character for you to feel. you can feel your heartbeat racing faster.

“what's up with your bag?” you ask her once again, minki looks at you and smiles. “my band, we have a gig tonight. we're planning to recruit a member for our club.” she answers.

“you have a band?”

“yeah, we kinda suck but you can go and check out our gig tonight with me.” minji smiles wider and you swear it did something to you.

“sounds fun.” minji laughs, grinning.

god she feels like an absolute loser now.

“it is, my car’s parked there.”

your eyes glimmer under the dim lights of the club as you stand by the audio technician’s corner, watching as minji’s band plays their self-made songs as well as covers of other songs. the audiences are cheering and you feel your heart beating at every strike of the drums.

you start to bob your head to the music, you were scared that there might be a time you lose your hearing to the music but you're wrong. you can hear the strumming of the guitar and the slaps of the bass, maybe except for the chatting of the people around.

you feel as if you're actually existing and occupying a space in the earth, even if it’s just a small bit — there's people around and your eyes are fixated on minji's presence.

she's amazing.

you think to yourself, feeling your heart as if it's about to jump off of your chest.

“you did great.” you tell minji, with a small smile — your eyes connect with hers. minji’s heart is shaken up, there's more than just eye contact to your connection with her. minji looks down on her sneakers, then back at you.

“thanks, i hope someone signs to our club after.” she replies, you now understand their situation. it seems like they can't occupy a space in the school if they don't have enough members to complete the requirements for a club application.

“something is still missing?” you hum, her attention is only at you and you only, forgetting the world outside you and her bubble.

“i guess…” she says.

you find her amusing, so amusing that it excites you.

“isn't that y/n nakamura?” haerin, the club owner’s sister — watching you and minji from a few meters away. hanni joins in with a cup in her hand, leaning and squinting her eyes to take a good look. “holy shit it is her!” she exclaims.

danielle smiles. “they look nice together. you think y/n likes minji?”

haerin shrugs. “i don't know. she does look interested though.”

hanni scoffs and rolls her eyes. “ah, i guess lots of girls today still have shit tastes. i can also say she's got that look in her eyes.”

“does that mean we're not guilty anymore?”

haerin looks at her girlfriend. “we still probably are.”

“once y/n and minji kiss, we’re free.” hanni laughs. “cheers to freedom?” she playfully adds, earning whispers from her friends.

minji drives you home, and on the way home — you can't help but feel quite happy to be here with her. maybe her presence makes you feel a little more like yourself. something you are yet to discover once again.

it's that minji’s sheer honesty, her persistence, and her transparency make her such a likable person, maybe you do want her.

do you?

you hop off her car as soon as she opens the door, you look at her and smile. “minji, can i say something?” minji turns around and raises her eyebrows at you. “yeah?”

“i’ll join your band.” you tell her, you watch as her expression brightens — she has this sickening smile on her lips, her eyes shine so bright under the night sky.

“what? really?” minji feels as if the world is turning around, maybe not upside down but it is turning around.

her eyes are staring straight into yours. and just a little, yeah — you feel like smiling, wider than you have ever done your whole life. “yes. i’ll sign the application letter tomorrow.” hanni was right, you do have that look in your eyes.

“that’s great! i didn't expect you’d like our performance.” it was kind of bad if you were going to be honest, it wasn't one of the best ever but it felt so real and raw, it felt like human. there's emotions, there's mistakes, there's intensity and connection.

it was one of the most entertaining thing you’ve ever seen.

maybe that's why you loved their performance, because they were enjoying themselves, so honest and forgiving.

“i did, so much.” you wave your hand at her before making your way to the building entrance but before you maximize the distance between you and minji she calls out your name. “y/n! wait!”

you stop on your tracks but take a few seconds to smile before changing your expression and facing her. there's only a medium gap between her distance to yours, minji lifts her hand and closes it in a fist, then she brings her hand down.

“let's go out sometimes. doesn't have to be a date or anything. doesn't have to be just the two of us… is that okay..?” minji blinks, she's kind of nervous as of the moment — because you were always so unpredictable, in the past few days she's been with you, you're still surrounded by intangible walls.

but she's so close to reaching you.

you smile at her, your eyes glimmer a kind of spark similar to a firework.

this time, minji knows — she realizes and sees behind your eyes, your smile.

“yes, that's fine by me.” you turn around and leave, and minji stands there, motionless and speechless. starstrucked? probably. lovestruck? yes, this might be it.

minji can't help the boiling blood traveling to her face and coloring her cheeks red, the uncontrollable face muscles that contract to form a smile.

minji places her hands on her cheeks and starts breathing heavily, trying to control the pace of her heartbeat, the funny feeling inside her stomach — the way her knees shake.

minji, you must be inlove.

[sweetbutpsychobutsweet]

At Least We'll Be Together

Chapter 11

Thorin Oakenshield x AFAB!Reader

Summary: Thorin's greatest enemy is alive and well, and wants to put an end to not only your quest but your lives. It seems you're not the only one who wants his head...

Warnings: no use of y/n, angst, violence

Author's Note: Finally got this to post! This one is much more plot-heavy, but only as a setup for the next chapter. It's one I've been planning for a very long time so I'm excited to share it with you! hopefully very soon:) I think I've fully updated the taglist below but if there's someone I missed just let me know! ♥

Word count: 1945

“Cut off his head!” the Goblin king declares as they pin Thorin down. One of them raises a jagged blade above his head, but before a scream can escape you, the cavern is suddenly exploding with a burst of light. Your ears ring and your eyes burn as the force of the blast knocks you off your feet. The goblins holding you in place release their clawed grip on your arms as everything goes silent. Then, from the stillness: “Take up arms,” a voice commands. Blinking the stars out of your eyes a tall, gray wizard appears. “Fight,” he commands, “fight!” You and the rest of your kin spring into action, shoving the horde of goblins off of you as you go to reach for your discarded weapons. Bombur reaches the pile first, tossing weapons up overhead. Thorin’s blade soars through the air, returning to his hand just in time to stop the goblin king’s club from coming down on him. The king tumbles off the platform into the darkness below. Catching your own swords in mid-air, you bring them down on the trio of goblins skittering your way. Slashing through flesh effortlessly, your beloved blades help clear the path before you. “Follow me!” Gandalf calls, “quick!” You all take off in a sprint down the rickety bridges and platforms. Swarms of the angry creatures are hot on your heels as they seem to pour in from every direction. Gandalf leads the way through the caverns, slicing down goblins like weeds. Thorin follows close behind him taking them out three at a time as they continue pursuing you. One tries to crawl up the bridge beneath your feet and with a solid kick to the nose, you send it tumbling back down. Another one crawls up from the other side, grabbing your ankles with its claws. Before you can bend over to slice at its hand another one jumps you from behind, wrapping its arms around your neck and sinking its teeth into your shoulders. You cry out from the pain and Thorin looks over his shoulder at you, brow furrowed and steely gaze instantly locking in on the assailant. Pushing through the pain, you slice the goblin at your feet off by its fingers. Before you can remove the other one from your neck, Thorin is pulling him off for you and tossing him over the edge. Another goblin drops down behind Thorin, a jagged knife raised to pierce him in the back. “Get down!” you cry and Thorin does without a second thought as your blade swipes over the space where his head used to be, removing the goblin’s instead. You continue farther down the path, fighting your way to the mountain’s surface with the goblin swarm still close on your tail. Suddenly your path is blocked by the enormous leader himself. “You thought you could escape me?” he scoffs. “What are you going to do now wizard?” he sneers at Gandalf who thrusts his staff into his eye before slashing his sword across the king’s belly. “That’ll do it,” he grunts as the wizard delivers the final blow to his neck. His now lifeless body collapses, the weight toppling the bridge beneath you as it starts tumbling down, bringing all of you with it until you land on solid ground with a thud. “Well, that could have been worse,” Bofur supplies before he’s promptly crushed by the goblin king's corpse following your descent down.

You all groan and grumble, pushing off the debris of the collapsed bridge as you scramble to your feet. Looking up in horror you see even more goblins than before, headed right for you like a tidal wave. Far too many for the company to fight off. “Only one thing will save us, daylight!” Gandalf cries, pulling the rest of you out of the bridge’s remnants as he leads you toward the beam of light streaming through an opening to the surface. The underground caverns give way to the slopped mountainside, illuminated by the vibrant orange of the sun setting overhead as you all scramble down the steep slope. Only stopping to catch your breath when Gandalf finishes his head count. “Where’s Bilbo?” he asks. “Where is our hobbit?” None of you can recall seeing him since you first fell down into goblin town. You can’t remember if you’d seen him since your previous conversation that evening. You had been too focused on staying alive to notice his absence. “What happened exactly?” Gandalf demands, “Tell me!” “I’ll tell you what happened,” Thorin grumbles, “Master Baggins saw his chance and he took it. He has thought of nothing but his soft bed and his warm hearth since first he stepped out of his door. We will not be seeing our hobbit again. He is long gone.” The other dwarves look at each other in silence. “Can’t say that I blame him,” you grumble to yourself, wiping the goblin blood off your weapons with your pant leg. “No, he isn’t,” the hobbit reappears from behind the trees. “Bilbo Baggins,” Gandalf laughs, “I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life.” “Bilbo,” Kili sighs in relief, “we’d given you up.” “How on earth did you get past the goblins?” Fili asks “Well what does it matter, he’s back,” Gandalf interjects sensing the hobbit’s reluctance. “It matters,” Thorin insists, never one to let something go, “I want to know. Why did you come back?” “Look,” Bilbo scoffs, “I know you doubt me. I know you always have. And you’re right, I often think of Bag-End.” He shrugs. “I miss my books, and my armchair, and my garden. See that’s where I belong. That’s home. And that’s why I came back. Because…” He looks at all of you in turn, scanning your faces. “You don’t have one,” he says sadly, “a home. It was taken from you. But I will help you take it back if I can.” Everyone, including yourself is at a loss for words. Thorin looks like he’s about to say something, but before he can a howl pierces the silence. The orc pack has found you again. “Out of the frying pan,” Thorin whispers. “And into the fire,” Gandalf finishes, “run, run!” You all take off in a sprint as darkness comes over the mountainside, the wargs scampering down after you. They corner you on the side of a cliff, there’s nowhere else to go. “Up into the trees!” Gandalf says, “Climb!” You scamper up a tree as the rest of the wargs catch up to you, the orcs riding astride them with hunger in their eyes. One in particular breaks through the pack on his white warg with a knowing grin on his face. You’ve only seen him once before, but still, you’d know him anywhere. “Azog,” Thorin whispers in disbelief as the orc sniffs the air with a taunting smile.

Fear the pale orc rasps in black speech. I remember your father reeked of it, Thorin, son of Thrain Thorin’s knuckles turn white on the tree branch he clutches. “It cannot be.” You bite the inside of your cheek at the dark look on his face. He’s going to do something stupid, you just know it. Kill the others Azog commands as the rest of the wargs are unleashed, growling and clambering up the trees to nip at your heels. Branches snap and trunks shake, pulling free of their roots as they start to topple over like dominoes. You all leap from branch to collapsing branch, until your entire company is stranded on a lone pine at the very edge of the cliff side. There is only one defense left: magic. Lighting a large pinecone aflame above you, Gandalf starts to drop them down to you all in turn, one after the other you all start to hurl them toward the orc pack, setting the entire cliffside aflame. It seems to work at first until the tree beneath you starts to groan from the weight of your entire company. It topples over even further, dangling you all over the cliff’s edge. The roots crack and groan, and you’re so focused on not losing your grip on the branch that you don’t notice Thorin rising to his feet and drawing his sword. Not until he starts to stalk right towards the pale orc. “Thorin!” you cry as he runs straight through the flames, oaken branch held high overhead. With a ferocious cry, he charges at Azog. The white warg leaps over him, dodging the attack and knocking Thorin off his feet. Thorin stumbles, disoriented, as the warg captures him in his jaws with a crunch. You hear the others calling out his name but it all fades to white noise in the background, all you can hear are his anguished cries. You don’t know where you find the strength, but you manage to pull yourself all the way atop the tree branch you’re dangling from. It cracks beneath you in protest as you climb to your feet but by the time it starts to snap free beneath you, you’re already leaping to the next one, sprinting along the collapsed trunk with both blades held high, straight towards the white warg. Thorin struggles in his grasp as he tries to hit the beast’s snout with his sword but all it does is anger him. You jab your blade right under its jaw and it releases Thorin with a howl, tossing him aside like a rag doll. The warg swipes its large paw at you in retaliation. You narrowly miss its claws but still aren’t fast enough to avoid the blow to your head as it knocks you over too. Your head smacks against the dirt beneath you as you fall over, dizzy and disoriented. You can hear Thorin’s groans of pain close by and you blindly reach a hand out for him, your fingers clutching onto his arm.

Bring me their heads Azog commands one of the other orcs who stalks over to you with heavy steps. Using your remaining strength, you pull yourself atop Thorin’s chest, shielding his body with your own. If the orc is going to take your heads, he’s going to have to start with yours. Your eyelids feel so heavy as you rest your forehead against Thorin’s. The tickle of his breath against your face assures you he’s still alive. The orc grabs a fistful of your hair and you let out a pained cry as he yanks your head up, bringing the curve of his blade against your throat. Thorin’s eyes flutter open in alarm as the orc starts to lift your weight off of him, and in a panic, he tries to reach for the discarded sword by his side. The orc tightens his grip on your hair and raises his blade high overhead, ready to remove your head from your shoulders. But before he can bring the blade down, Bilbo of all people is tackling the orc to the ground. His grasp on your hair is loosened and you collapse back against Thorin. He sighs beneath you in relief and his eyelids flutter closed. “Thorin,” you croak against his chest. He brings a shaky hand to the back of your head. Gently cradling you against his chest as he loses consciousness beneath you. The cries of your kin ring out from behind you as they all charge into battle. Everything starts to go black as your eyelids flutter closed, the sounds of battle and the screech of birds overhead echoing around you. We’ll be alright now, you think to yourself. And if we’re not, at least we’ll be together.

Next

Taglist:

@mrsdurin @thetaekwondofeline @enchantingkryptoniteheart-blog

@exhausted-humxn-being @marsmallow433 @sverdgeir

@champagne-glamour@yve-barr @krampus236 @nerdthickly

@lyl1pad @bruhk

[kiwanopie]

Tell us more about lord crime sakusa please 🙊❤️

1.4K more crime lord!Sakusa lore + more lore for reader

Lemon sugar soap and airy high notes, your buoyant little song is cut in two the moment you see it in your living room.

The moment you see him in your living room.

Your face immediately drops. Freezes and then lours in broadening terror, until fright is stained across your face. Tears welling as you step back - you’re more exposed in your pajamas shirt than you ever were in those skimpy little getups they make you wear.

Because he’s not supposed to be here. He’s not supposed to cross that straight little line you’ve drawn. All the effort - the horrible things you’ve done to make sure those two sides never touched. Making yourself invulnerable, untouchable, non-existent. Breaking your back to make yourself as elusive as possible, and now he, Sakusa Kiyoomi, the most feared man in all of Asia is sitting in your living room.

He’s sitting in your living room.

You don’t even try to care about how utterly devastated you look, tears already running hot down your cheeks. He just threw all of that hard work in your face. Your peace of mind in your face. He’s not supposed to be there. He’s not supposed to be here. This is your safety. This is your everything.

Fresh flurries of earlier shower aroma whiff into the empty air of your living room as he stares at you from the couch, little hearts curling into the air and drifting in his direction. You smell like bundt cake.

Sakusa clears his throat as the tendons in his jaw flex, trying and somewhat failing to keep his body language as confident as possible. “I’d like to-“

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

The way your voice trembles only sets jagged edges onto the way you address him. “You’re not…” You shake your head. “You’re not supposed to be here-“

He raises his hands in an attempt to placate you. “I know. I’m sorry-“

“How did you find my address…?” Or get past your motion sensors. Lay a hand on the door knob without your blink camera alerting you, or break into your home without your dog so much as barking. “How long have you-“

Your eyes flicker to the aforementioned dog, who’s lackadaisical amble speeds to a giddy trot at the sight of the intruder. Tail waving contentedly as he raises his two front paws to perch them on Sakusa’s lap, and turning your world upside down as the grief in your stomach tightens.

Sakusa rubs distractedly along his floppy ears. “A while.”

He has the decency to look guilty about it at the very least. A little stiffened in his slouch as the apples of his cheeks turn a soft flowery. He’s in his usual two piece suit he wears during work hours. Save for the jacket thrown over the bridge of your couch, and the few relaxed buttons on his crisp button up; few enough to turn his collar loose.

“There’s a better way to do this. I know that.” Sakusa claps his hands in his lap. “But I knew this was the only way to get you alone.”

Your feet brush against the edge of the carpet as you slowly retreat - like a frightened rabbit. “What are you-“

“I’m not gonna hurt you.”

But even still you lock up as he stands, long legged strides now moving in your ever shrinking direction. All the more smaller when he’s tall enough to touch the ceiling with his arms bent. Fit from youth and exercise, veins in his hands and scabs on his knuckles. You don’t even realize through your terror that he’s only in his socks, padding your wooden floors in an effort to show you the respect that you deserve.

You notice his cheeks are actually a thin rouge now that he’s close enough. It softens the perpetual scowl oftenly carved into his face. “I’d… like to offer you a proposition.”

Sakusa tries to keep his composure at a glance of those misty doe eyes. You’re breaking his heart by looking so frightened. “I know how miserable you are working as a scout, and how much you despise being involved with those people - or even this business altogether,”

He surmised at first. It’s hard to imagine a pretty thing like you being treated kindly by an ugly trade like this. Short bruises on you that are close to healing nearly every time he sees them, but it’s a given that they’re renewed in his absence. The cold stare of your mask. Frigid and resentful the way you avoid the eyes of your employers the few times he’s seen you with it off. You’re young and beautiful, wilted and wounded on the inside as is everyone else with an early start to this profession. It’s only common sense that you’d be unhappy.

But then the Azure Dragon contract happened. And your reputation of being clinical and concise was disrupted by a slaughter that would even make a man like him a little queasy. - He had heard there was some bad blood between their leader and the people at your organization. Something buried in the past, but as all disputes with your employer's enterprise it was kept secret with that trademark air of taboo wafting around it. He was there when you were informed of the contract, he could see it in your body language. Locked up and afflicted, so much ire in the air that he could all but taste it. On watching you step out of the room, the first thought that crossed his mind was:

“It was a mistake to send her.”

“Hm?” Your handler lifts her head from the string of documents laid out on her desk.

Sakusa’s eyebrows cinch as he points his gaze toward the door. “Why not send a more… unkempt scout? She doesn’t seem right for a role like that.”

And although obscured by a mask, the look of quiet contempt on her face is visible in her tone. “All my scouts are killers, Sakusa-san. Especially in my elite class.”

“Yeah, but-“ But he stops there. There’s no way to make a gut feeling seem like an appropriate rebuttal.

Though still, She seems intent on making sure he leaves with little to no peace of mind. “She’s the one who asked for it, if that makes you feel any better. The women in our lineup very seldom leave their business unfinished.”

At hearing that, that piquant taste of ire sours to a pungent note of despair.

He wasn’t surprised when news came that the clan had fallen. After a few days of radio silence, Seiko Akie’s head was found perched on a spike, the word “COWARD” etched into the skin on his forehead.

What an ugly path to take. He thought. For you it was. For the goodness that still radiated off of you, for all the times he’s seen you hesitate at the sight of depravity, for your integrity. For anyone keen enough to look between the lines it’d be written all over you ~ that you had your limits, and even the few you’d crossed would fall further of the butchering that took place during that contract. You were being corrupted. What little good in him only shone through seeing the surplus of genuinity you had in you and if that was gone…

If that was gone…

He’s not going to let that happen. “I wanna give you a way out of it. All of it. I could make it disappear.”

“…What…?”

Sakusa’s gentle as he gathers your palms in his, tender over soft silken skin, unroughened even through your years of work. He holds you like you’re jewelry. Treasure sparkling in his grasp as he looks down at you with the kind of adoration you could only sing about. “I’ll buy out your licensing and have my lawyers write out an order that would make you completely inaccessible to them. I could even get your name wiped from their record just to be extra thorough about it-“

“What? W-Why?” Your tears still fall down the tops of your cheeks. “Why would you… do that for me…?”

He swallows hard. It’s strange to see a man like him look so meekend. “Because it would be right. Because that’s what you want, and it would be best for you.”

You stare at him a watery moment.

And then soberly, so removed from your current devastation that you almost sound like a different person. Wrought with the kind of baseline aprehensity that should come from a seasoned business woman, at least in this line of work.

You ask: “What do you want for it?”

He inhales deeply.

And he promises, swears on his life and the lives of all who he has ever cherished - that this’ll be the first and the very last time he’ll ever disappoint you.

He answers: “I want you to marry me.”

He answers: “I want you to marry me.”

He answers: “I want you to marry me.”

[quiteliterallyilliterate]

If you are open to requests, I would like to request anything with Fae!Hyrule or maybe a feral Fae!Hyrule (follows classic Fae rules, protect your name, don’t thank a Fae, don’t make a deal, etc) , or even a cute fluffy Fae!Hyrule X Reader fic. There just isn’t enough fairy Hyrule, especially X reader fics, they are practically nonexistent. I just read your last post of a fairy/malice Hyrule X reader and am hooked. Your previous work has fed my obsession, thank you 🙏 .

Order up!

Sorry that this ended up taking so long! Just wanted to make sure everything worked out. This unintentionally got really long and i didn’t wanna convolute things as I intend to do. Special thanks to @litrllyvoid who proofread this.

Hope you enjoy~

tw: Dementia loosely described

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Your mother always told you that you were blessed. You’d watch from your little stool as she weaved her fabrics, shuttle passing through the rungs of yarn with precision. Her words were low and hushed, embellishing every word with an air of mystery. You were six months old, she said. The forests were cold and menacing as they still were, and within those woods, she sung. An odd act many of the people now would warn against for the very same reason she did it. The fae. Tricksters of the woods with sharp tongues and sly deals, your mother had them bless you. Now, you see the price. While you never were injured as a child and never fell ill, your mother took the brunt of your illnesses. She sat now in her rocking chair, hands too worn to use her loom as her mind withers. Wrapped in the great blankets she used to weave, she doesn’t remember that she made them. She doesn’t recall who she used to be. You read her books about the fae sometimes and her tall tale is all she ever mentions anymore. The small smile she has is all that’s left of her —truly her— anymore. So, with a book, a green cloak and some payment, you set off into the forest with the hopes of recovering what’s since been lost.

You’ve since grown increasingly thankful for your cloak, the furry lining keeping you blessedly warm as the fog only grows thicker and thicker. The light begins to dwindle from your path despite it only being sometime around noon. The birds are gone now. Their chitters and chortles are replaced by wind whispers and the quiet sway of your breath. You stop at an odd formation of rocks stuck in the ground, crocus and clover flowers blooming around the edge of each rock that forms the circle. Carefully you step in, leaving a velvet bag of silver coins as payment for your intrusion. The air stands still and the humidity increases, each breath uncomfortable.

“Hello there” The voice is as cautious as you feel, and yet clearer than your vision at the moment. You turn to see a thin, scruffy looking boy, brown-blonde waves of hair tousled like a sea of their own. His head is tilted to the side, hazel eyes combing over you carefully. He holds out a hand in expectations. You hesitate as you hand him the bag, especially as his thin lips twitch towards a frown. “I do not want your money” He shakes his head, his nose crinkling at its bridge.

“Wh-“ You turn fully now to face him and he doesn’t feel as scary as the stories paint his kind to be, perhaps that makes them even more terrifying. “Then what do you want?” His lips part to a tight smile, the edges of his teeth showing, you can’t tell from where you stand if they’re pointed.

“Your mother could sing, couldn’t she?” A chill skitters down your spine as his deceptively innocent voice calls. You don’t even dignify him with a response, suddenly feeling unwelcome on the grass you stand. “My mentor actually dealt with it— not me” He chuckles at the end of his words, complimenting them like birdsong does to sunrise. “We love a good song you know” You can’t for the life of you tell what it’s supposed to mean, what he intends behind the simple words. And yet his pointed ears wiggle as he smiles reassuringly, as if you weren’t bargaining over a life.

“That’s the thing-“ You choke over the words, feeling yourself root down to your cause. “She’s unwell because-“ Looking at his curious eyes picking you apart, you feel bad at the sentiments you hold. It feels as if your mind is being mixed, and yet there’s nothing apparently wrong. “Because of the deal. I want to know how to fix it.” You’re unsure exactly of how you managed to keep your voice so even, but the boy in front of you buys into it. He nods in acknowledgement before his lips pursed, his sharp cupid bow shifting.

“An eye for an eye” The wind picks up, ruffling the trees. Suddenly the small boy in front of you no longer feels nearly as harmless. “A life for a life, one must understand.” His eyes close and he sinks in on his feet, speaking so calmly of mortality. Truly because his kind holds so much over it “To save yours, she sacrificed her own. That cannot be easily undone” His words make you sink as well. Nothing to be done. Not even for the ones who’ve done it. “Be not afraid. There is a solution” His smile is back, tight and lacking the warmth of a human. “A life for a life.” He giggles, as if the words were funny “Say you managed to bear me a child- Oh that won’t do. Too cliche. And horribly disrespectful” A freckled hand curls around the base of his chin as he ponders. “Are you unwed?” His eyes glint with a silvery light that you failed to see before. In the pure shock of the moment, you shake your head, shuffling back slightly. “Really? Wow- Sorry. If you are willing to spend the remainder of your life with me, I will save your mother. Only if we are married —wholly married, not simply for the sake of the spell— then will I save your mother. You'll still be able to visit and what not, but you'll live with me, as is proper.” He holds a hand out to you, and your fingers twitch at your side.

“Uh-“ You sip in some of the uncomfortably humid air and feel your head get lighter. An eye for an eye. Your life for hers. She was a good woman, one of unfortunate circumstances. Feeling calloused hand meet your own sealed your fate to something you could only hope to be respectable. The fae aren’t known for breaking deals. Nor are they known for breaking their pacts. Till death do you part, afterall.

[clouds-by-me]

𝓞𝓷𝓮 𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮

Characters ;; Xiao Warnings ;; Angst, slight comfort, then more angst, abandonment(technically??) Words count ;; 1.8k An| Inspired by "One last time" from Hamiliton

As you stood looking at your rightfully beautiful lands, the sun set off in the distance. A peaceful smile made a home on your face. The soft breeze touched your face, and the sun kept you warm. Everything around you was perfect, and rightfully so at that. As you stood watching the sun set, in your silk garments, and flowing clothing, you looked majestic.

When you heard a knock on the door leading into the room in which you resided in, you didn’t need to ask to know who it was.

“Come in.” Your words flowed off your lips and was carried by the wind. As softly as you spoke, your words stood tall and elegantly firm. With a soft click the door opened, revealing a young looking male with teal and green hair, and a purple diamond on his forehead; a gift from you.

“Yes, your grace? I was informed that you wanted to speak with me?” you could hear the shake in his voice, mixed with confusion. You had yet to look at him, but you were sure that if you did, you’d see him standing stiff and still, almost like a statue.

Softly, you huffed out a breath of air, and spotted an anemo crystalfly fluttering around. You raised your hand, putting out a finger for it to land on. When it did, you finally glanced back at him. Looking over your shoulder, you noticed how far away he was from you, as if terrified to get any closer.

Your warm smile had yet to leave your face, and you waved him to walk closer to you.

“Please, have a drink, relax.” You motioned over to the cart not far from you with various kinds of drinks, as per your request. You also took note how he refused to look at your face. He seemed to look everywhere else however. You returned your gaze back to the orange sky, and pink clouds. “I need a favor.” A soft tune sounded in your voice, which made you sound angelic.

“Yes, whatever you say, your grace.” His voice sounded determined, and confident. With your free hand, you grabbed with hand, and lifted, bringing the crystalfly closer to him. His breath hitched when you touched him, and you gently placed the small animal his hand. The crystalfly, glowed when it touched him, then flew around him before flying away.

“I need you to draft an address.” Confusion showed on his features, and you understood why. Before he could ask any questions, you continued; “So the people will hear from me one last time.”

You looked away from him, enjoying the long sunset in the horizon. Alarmed he stepped closer to you, confusion, and concern clear in his voice.

“Your Grace, what do you mean?” Without looking at him, you grabbed his hand, and walked closer to the edge of your open balcony. Carefully, you climbed onto the railing, standing tall on it. “Your Grace!” Xiao yelled, frightened as he still stood on the ground. You looked back at him, smiling brightly.

“Join me, Xiao. Let’s take a walk together.” Just as you finished, a bridge made of vines and floral plants formed from the plants that grew on the side of the castle. Wordlessly, he took your hand, not knowing what to expect, but having full trust in you. As you spoke, he listened to you intently.

"One last time~ The people will hear from me, one last time~" there was a soft tune in your voice, almost as if you were singing. You drew out your words as you talked and sounded almost too relaxed for your own good.

With each step that you took, more and more flowers flourished. softly the wind blew past the two of you. While you stayed relaxed, and calm, Xiao was having something like a crisis. So many thoughts ran through his mind, he wondered what was going on more than everything.

Why did you want to leave? And why did you choose to tell him, of all people?

"Your Grace, why?" Seemed to be the only thing that he could get past his teeth. His thoughts ran too fast for him to have been able to understand. Under him, he could feel his legs stop. The male looked down, to ashamed to look anywhere else. His world felt like it was crashing down all around him.

When you felt him stop walking, you stopped as well. Upon seeing the state that you'd put the teal haired male, you didn't know how to feel, but you knew what to do. Without letting go of his hand, you took your free hand and placed it on his cheek, lifting his head to look at you.

"Relax, take a walk with me, one last time." Your smile had yet to leave your face, or faulter, and as you looked at him you refused to let it do so. Gently, with your thumb, you whipped the tears that began to flood his eyes. Then after a second, you began your walk once again, never letting go of his hand.

So many confusing thoughts ran through his head, yet the comfort that you brought him eased his mind. Somehow, you always possessed that ability to radiate that comforting, and powerful aura. It was so welcoming and comforting that it was impossible to resist. Maybe that was a perk of being the creator.

"I wanna talk about what I have made. The hard won wisdom I have gained." Though, in the distance ahead, the sun was setting, it somehow was still bright enough to see. With your hand, you gestured to the groups of crystsalflies that flew around.

The small crystalflies, softly glowed in the incoming dark, illuminating the area around beautifully. Water in the lakes below flowed steadily, washing against the rocks and grass.

"As far as the people are concerned, you have to lead! You could continue to lead." he sounded desperate, imploring you to not leave, to just stay a bit longer. Now, unlike before, he never took his eyes off you. As if scared that if he did, you'd disappear before he could realize that you gone. His heart thumped rapidly in his chest, and somehow, breathing felt foreign to him.

"No. One last time, the people will hear from me. One last time, and if I get this right. We're gonna teach' em how to say goodbye. You and I~" He couldn't even think about his next words, before they seemingly flew out of his mouth;

"Why do you have to say goodbye?" His voice cracked, and his normally deep and reserved voice was breaking down by the second.

"If I say goodbye, Tayvet will lean to move on. It'll outlive me when im gone." By that time, you reached the end of the vine path. It stopped just at the end of a cliff. Xiao then looked around, confused. Just how far had they walked in that time, it felt like a short amount of time, yet they walked so far.

The massive castle in which was made for the Creator, was no longer visible, neither was any signs of civilization.

It all happened so fast, too fast.

There was a sudden glow that came from the creator, it lit the surround trees and grass. It was bright enough to be mistaken as the sun. Xiao looked away, knowing that if he continued to look, he'd become blinded by the light. Then he heard a voice. The familiar voice of his beloved creator.

"Deliver my message to Tayvat for me Xiao, I trust that you will see my final wish through." In a sudden realization that he could no longer feel the Creator's hand within his own, he opened his eyes.

A bright orb of light floated where his Creator once was. Particles of golden dust floated in the air, as the orb lifted into the sky. Ascending into the stars. The dust littered the ground, and his body. He watched as the orb moved further away, and tears ran down his cheeks like the rain. The space around him was now completely dark.

Aside from the rainbow Cryatalfly the fluttered around him. Landing on his shoulder.

There he stood in the spot all night, a flow of never stopping tears rolled down his face, and the only sense of comfort he received was from the crystalfly, that reminded him of you.

~~~~~~~~

The next day, was easy from no one. Especially, Xiao. As he was one the whom had to bear witness to the the faces that he gave the information to. That was how he got to where he stands now. In his hands was a paper, new and crisp. He stood before a crowed of people, who were from different nations, and of different cultures.

There had to be atleast thousands of people from each nation there, all gathered in a large courtyard before the palace of the creator. Looking down at the paper, he reads off the words inscribed in the paper;

ɪɴ ʀᴇᴠɪᴇᴡɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ʀᴜʟɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴛᴇʏᴠᴀᴛ, ɪ’ᴠᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛʟʏ ᴘʀᴏꜱᴘᴇʀᴇᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴅᴇᴠᴇʟᴏᴘᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇʟɪɢɪᴏɴꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛᴇʏᴠᴀᴛ ʜᴏʟᴅꜱ. ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ. ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ʜᴜɴᴅʀᴇᴅꜱ ᴏꜰ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ ʀᴜʟᴇ, ɪ ɴᴏᴡ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴀꜱᴄᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴀʀꜱ. ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴇʟʟ-ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ʜᴏᴍᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɢʀᴏᴡɴ ꜱᴏ ᴅᴇᴇᴘʟʏ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ, ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴄᴇ. ɪ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴛᴀʏ ɢʀᴀᴛᴇꜰᴜʟ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏʏᴀʟᴛʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠᴇᴅ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴍʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ, ʜᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ᴄʟᴇᴀʀ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʙᴏᴅɪᴇꜱ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴇʏᴇꜱ. ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ, ᴛʀᴜᴇ ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʜᴀᴘᴘɪʟʏ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ, ᴇᴀᴄʜ ʜᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴄᴜʟᴘᴛᴇᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʟᴏᴠᴇ, ᴛʜᴇʏ ꜰᴀɪʟ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ʀᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ ꜰᴏʀ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇᴍ. ᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇʏ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀꜱ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ, ɪɴ ᴛʀᴜᴛʜ ɪ ᴀᴍ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴀ ꜱᴛᴀʀ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ʜᴀꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ʏᴇᴛ ꜱᴇᴛᴛʟᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪɴᴅꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴅᴏ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ꜰᴀᴄᴛ. ꜱᴏ, ᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴏʀ, ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ᴍʏ ʀᴇꜱᴘᴏɴꜱɪʙɪʟɪᴛʏ ᴛᴏ ɪɴꜱᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴀɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴏᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴀʟ ᴏꜰ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄᴀɴ ᴅᴏ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ʏᴇᴛ, ꜱᴇᴇ ɪᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ᴛʜᴇᴍꜱᴇʟᴠᴇꜱ, ʜᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ ɪ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ᴛʜᴇᴍ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ’ꜱ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʀᴏʟᴇ ᴀꜱ ɪᴍᴘᴏʀᴛᴀɴᴛ ᴀꜱ ɪᴛ ɪꜱ. ꜱᴏ ɴᴏᴡ, ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀꜱᴄᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ᴍʏ ɢᴏᴀʟ ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ᴍʏ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴀɴᴅɪɴɢ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇ, ꜱᴏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴜᴘᴏɴ ᴍʏ ꜱᴛᴀɢᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴀʀʀɪᴠᴀʟ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ. ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴀʀꜱ ᴡɪʟʟ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴ ᴀꜱ ᴍʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴄʟᴇᴀʀ. ᴀꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ, ɪ ɴᴏᴡ ꜱᴘᴇᴀᴋ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪʀᴇᴄᴛʟʏ, ɴᴏᴛ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴏʀ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴀꜱ ᴍʏꜱᴇʟꜰ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀ ᴜɴᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇ; ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ɢʀᴏᴡ ᴀɴᴅ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇ ɪɴᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅᴇɴᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴜʀᴇ.

[mlmxreader]

My Best Ally | Aragorn x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ “You will never age for me, nor fade, nor die.”With Aragorn please ❞

: ̗̀➛ Aragorn has an alliance with the general of an army, although it isn't just politics

: ̗̀➛ blood, injury, war, violence

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

There was no surrender, and there was no way that withdrawal would work either; the flap of the coat of arms flew high above you, displaying a great red dragon with claws as big as mountains and teeth as harsh as sunlight. There was only one thing to do - drive them through the hills, and out of your lands.

Just as your ancestors had done for years, it was now down to you to follow in their footsteps; it was down to you to ensure that the white flag with a red cross never took over. You would die before seeing your countrymen perish to those dogs.

Drawing your sword, you turned to your men, and took a harsh breath.

"This is the killing field!" You bellowed. "This is where we show them no mercy! Ride with the wind!"

They cheered, although you clenched your jaw in a vain attempt to stop your heart from hammering in your chest; with an absent hand, you reached up and touched the small chunk of metal around your neck.

The small necklace that Aragorn had given you, inscribed with an old elven saying, was always around your neck when you went to battle.

The men fell into line in their respective battle positions; cavalry at the front, archers at the back. All wearing bright red armour made from dense dragon scales.

They were never fearful of what may come, knowing that if the battle was lost then those bearing the white and red flag would take over everything; they would flood villages and ban the language, outlaw and violently suppress the culture and traditions. They would not allow the land of the dragon to flourish and thrive.

Your men could not afford to be scared.

"Ride them down!" You called out, getting up on your horse with a huff. "Hunt them until the last man!"

It was true that your battle tactics were always less than merciful; you always left one man alive to go back and warn his countrymen, and he was always on the brink of death.

If he refused, his horse would be sent back, dragging his body as his shoulder blades were forcibly pushed up and out of his skin, and they would always find rats feasting inside his stomach.

You were very good at breaking the enemy's will.

You charged with the cavalry, herding the enemy lines into a small circle so that they were completely rounded up with no escape; you liked to watch them beg for their lives with fear in their eyes as they dropped to their knees.

As they surrendered, you gave the order, and they perished.

But while the rest of your men stood tall as they marched home, you did not; you gave word to your right-hand, telling him to look after the group, before heading towards the woods.

You left your horse at the edge, and felt relief wash over you the second you stepped onto the mossy ground.

"Aragorn!" You called as you wandered down to the little bridge, taking a seat and letting your legs dangle over the edge as you waited.

He was never very long, always running out of some of the bushes before smiling and letting out a quiet laugh. "You lived."

"As always," you nodded, waiting for him to sit down before you rested your head on his shoulder. "Good thing about dragonscale armour - you don't get killed."

Aragorn laughed softly, although his eyes soon caught the spatters on your armour. "Did you get hurt?"

"It isn't my blood," you whispered. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come to see you before-"

"It's alright," he murmured. "You seem tired."

"It seems the more they try to take our lands, the more tired I become," you started, "it's difficult, disgusting work... slaughtering them like cattle... but we are only trying to stop them from destroying our land."

"I know," Aragorn nodded slowly, letting his hand rest on your thigh as he cleared his throat. "One day, they will sings of you."

"I sure hope not," you laughed quietly. "I do not want to be remembered."

"You have no choice," he mused. "You will never age for me, nor fade, nor die. I will never let you be forgotten."

"Now you're just rubbing it in," you joked.

He gave your thigh a little shake as he hummed. "You know, the woods are whispering again."

"Really?" You asked. "What is it this time?"

"They say that there is a war coming," he explained, "and that your lands will have to unite with the rest of Men in order to save the world."

"I would do it on one condition," you admitted.

"Which is?"

"It would be under your banner," you told him plainly. "You have my alliance, Aragorn, just as you have my heart. If you want my men, you will have them - but only under your banner."

He nodded slowly. "I hope it does not come to it."

"As do I," you breathed out. "But you know as well as I do that the woods are not wrong. Can't you feel it? Something... brewing."

He nodded slowly, chewing at the inside of his lip. "I feel it. But where there is anxiety, there is hope."

You extended your hand to him. "If you shall ever need an ally, promise you will call upon me."

He held your hand tightly, kissing your knuckles. "Always. You are my ally in every way, General."

You nodded curtly, daring to smile at him. "And you are mine, Ranger."

He smiled back, licking his lips. "Shall we walk?"

Slowly, you stood up with him, and linked your arm with his. "I might be a little slow, today..."

"I'm aware," he whispered. "You are fresh from battle, I wouldn't expect differently."

"Thank you," you told him softly. "Really, Aragorn, thank you."

"Anything," Aragorn insisted. "Anything that I can do for you, I will, always. You are, after all, my best and favourite ally."

[vyingeyes]

Project Crown - 1 - Ground Zero

Geonosis was the kind of nightmare that nobody could ever really prepare you for. The Kaminoans had tried, but the divide between training and a real battlefield stretched unfathomably wide, and the only way to bridge that gap is to experience the latter firsthand.

Course was one of many clones deployed to Geonosis. He also seemed to be the only one with a functioning brain.

“48! Get back in formation!” Kyr snapped beside him.

Course didn’t bother turning to see what trouble their idiot brother was getting up to this time, far too preoccupied trying to patch up the unnamed clone that a Geonosian had flung down to their squad from one of the ledges a few meters above them in the canyon. The poor guy was thoroughly dazed from his short flight, but his wounds weren’t serious.

Kyr’s steady presence hovered by Course’s left side. “Status?”

“Stable. He’ll be able to keep fighting as soon as he’s able to think straight.”

The newcomer groaned out something vaguely interrogative, and Course turned to address Kyr head-on.

“Give me two minutes.”

Kyr’s visor tilted toward the ledges, and Course knew he was on the lookout for more bugs. “Hurry.”

There’s not really much I can do to speed the process up, Course thought dryly as their unit moved to block the wounded clone from any new avenue of attack. Nonetheless, he leaned over the clone.

“Break’s over,” he said bluntly. “As soon as you’re up we can get you back to your unit.”

“What… Where…?”

A flash of annoyance flickered through Course, and he tried his best to smother it. It was reasonable that a trooper would be confused after such an atypical experience. It wasn’t his fault he’d hit his head. Probably.

“A Geo dropped you down onto my squad. We’re gonna get you back up to yours.”

“Oh.” The other clone pushed himself into a sitting position, crest waving like a flag as he looked around to try and get his bearings back about him.

“Is he up?” Kyr called from where he spoke with 48.

“It hasn’t been two minutes,” Course reminded.

“I’m up,” the clone announced, pushing himself the rest of the way up.

Course sighed, but offered the clone a hand, pulling him to his feet.

“Myth contacted his unit,” Kyr told Course. “They’re sending down their gunner to help bring him back up. We just have to stick around to make sure no Geonosians interrupt their climb.”

The gunner in question just barely peeked over the edge of the east-side ledge, fiddling with something, presumably in preparation to drop down. The ledge wasn’t too tall, maybe six meters, but the wall was sheer, and the Crown-Green unit didn’t have the gear to scale it even if they wanted to. Fortunately, the unit above them seemed to be prepared for this exact situation, and in moments, the heavy gunner was descending.

Course knew that Green Squad alone could probably handle bug-watching, so he didn’t hesitate to use the lapse of downtime to head directly over to Myth and drag him under an overhang to check him over.

“Wh- Course!” Myth yelped, staggering as Course pulled him along. “I’m fine!”

Course ignored him, opting instead to remove Myth’s upper bicep armor with a quick click and pull of the release mechanism. Immediately, the magnets deactivated and the rerebrace fell away from his brother’s arm in two pieces. Course twisted Myth’s arm to better assess the area where a stray bolt had skimmed him earlier that morning during their first big firefight.

Course removed the hastily applied bacta patch from the sliver of blister-bright skin revealed by the incision in the body glove, and Myth’s hiss through clenched teeth told Course that he wasn’t enjoying it. But the bacta did its job, and as Course applied a new one (more careful now that he had the time to dedicate to it, carefully centered so that the bacta-infused center sat flush with the worst of the burn), he grew confident that it would be fully closed by the time all this mess was over.

“Seriously, it was fine,” Myth muttered, his words just barely making it through the vocoder.

“Don’t be a brat,” Course said. “Infection is one of the stupidest ways you could die. I’ve been wanting to fix that patch for hours.”

“We’re supposed to be watching for Geonosians!”

The sound of blasters firing followed immediately by a bright, “Got it!” from their unit made Course raise an unimpressed eyebrow under his helmet even knowing his brother wouldn’t be able to see it.

“I think they’ve got it handled.”

Myth’s visor dropped toward the ground, and for a moment Course considered poking fun at him for being so petulant, but then Kyr ducked into the cover with them.

“Dral’s back with Orbit-Nexu,” he informed. “We need to keep moving.”

Course latched Myth’s rerebrace back on. “Of course.”

“Of course,” Myth echoed absently, already moving back toward the unit the moment his armor was secured.

“Any problems?” Kyr asked, a hint of his Leader Voice peeking in past the otherwise innocuous question.

Course shook his head. “Just took a second to redress Myth’s graze,” he dismissed. “Didn’t have time to do it properly the first time.”

“Good. Let’s get going, then.”

Together, they headed back toward the unit, where 48 was giving Myth a dramatic retelling of what Course guessed would be the Geo kill that he had just performed.

“—hit it right in the wing, it went spiraling, and I—”

“Alright soldiers,” Kyr interrupted, “break’s over. We’ve still got a rendezvous to make.”

48 threw his head back, clearly personally targeted, but he moved with the rest of them to get back into formation. Kyr and Punch side-by-side in the lead, followed by Myth and Push, then Course and Pinch, Pull and Punt, and 48 on his own at the rear of the group. Comfortable. Familiar. Protocol.

Technically speaking, it was protocol to have infantry at the rear to prevent any specialists from getting attacked from behind. Course knew that 48 specifically got put in that slot to prevent him from getting sidetracked trying to talk to the person beside him, but it felt like a bigger risk that he would get a bright idea and leave the formation, and then none of them would notice until he was already gone. Kyr clearly had more faith in him than Course did.

“8ball is heading back our way,” Kyr announced over local comms as they continued the trek through the dusty canyon. “He says it should be a clear shot to the landing field.”

Kyr did his best to conceal his apprehension, but unfortunately, Course was also familiar with their brother. Just because 8ball thought the path was clear, that didn’t mean that it was by anyone else’s standards.

And, as the Crown-Green unit caught sight of their scout dashing back toward them, a small horde of B1s trailing behind him, Course’s skepticism was rewarded.

Their helmet comms crackled as 8ball connected to the local frequency. “Hey guys! Help!”

Blaster bolts filled the air between the two parties, and in a frankly impressively short moment 8ball found himself barreling into their formation at top speed. He did not slow down once he got past the leads, and Myth and Push jerked to either side to avoid getting run over. Beside Course, Pinch moved to the right. So did Course.

8ball scrambled to slow down in the two meters he had to realize Course was stepping into his path, sending up a spray of dust and grit as he tried to hit the brakes. Course braced. 8ball hit him with a loud CLACK, armor colliding with armor, and Course stumbled backwards to keep them both from falling to the ground.

Course gripped his brother by his shoulders and bodily turned him back toward the droids, pushing him a bit to give himself the room needed to raise his own rifle.

48 shoved his way up to be with the two of them, shooting all the while. “Y’know, 8ball, typically you want to shoot the droids that are shooting at you.”

8ball snarled something distinctly offensive as he fumbled to equip his rifle with its sniper extension.

“Focus,” Course snapped at the both of them. “This isn’t a sim.”

48 straightened up theatrically. “Yes sir, medic sir!”

Course scowled, but 8ball laughed and began lining up his shots.

“What happened to ‘clear’?” Kyr demanded over their comm.

8ball fired off a shot, and Course watched a clanker fall bodily into its neighbor. “I said ‘pretty clear’! And it is! Once we get past these guys.”

There was a laugh from someone in Green Squad at that, and in front of Course, Punch shook his head in the resigned sort of way that most sane individuals did after more than ten minutes alone with Crown Squad. Course would know it. He did it daily.

“Charge primed!” Punt announced behind them, and the unit scattered like clockwork while the ordnance specialist readied his shot. In an instant, the path cleared, and the explosive was flying through the air toward the unit of droids.

Even from the moderate distance between the groups, Course could hear the cartoonish, “uh oh” that came from at least three separate droids when the explosive rolled neatly into the center of the group. The explosion itself was quick and controlled, enough to fill the comm channel with brief feedback from the sheer number of open lines, but not enough to shake the walls of the cliffs on either side of them.

“Nice shot,” Kyr complimented, lowering his gun now that the threat was neutralized. “8ball?”

8ball flitted to the front of the unit. “Yes?”

“What the hell was that?”

“Well, I snuck by them really easily on the first trip,” the scout started, “but then on the way back they’d decided to get in the way and I couldn’t get back without getting their attention, and it’d take too long to deal with them alone, and I knew the SBDs would be too slow to follow all the way back to the group so I thought—”

“Supers?” Punch interrupted, head jolting back the way that 8ball had come and half-lifting his Z-6 like he expected a Super to appear dramatically out of the dust, summoned by the very mention.

“It’s just the Supers now,” 8ball said, a bit defensive now at the tone of the other squad leader. “That’s why I said it was ‘pretty’ clear. It was just two squads of B1s and the SBDs. That’s nothing.”

Kyr went quiet, head tilting, and Course knew he was trying to be patient.

“How many SBDs?” Course asked, shooting a glance towards Kyr that hopefully conveyed it happened, cope.

“Just two,” 8ball said, and the tension drained out of Kyr’s shoulders.

“Alright, that’s workable.” Kyr glanced toward Punch, then Punt. “Do you have enough ordnance to deal with both of them?”

Technically they all had some ordnance, but Kyr would be trying to keep them all as armed as possible for as long as possible, so taking care of these Supers would fall primarily on Punt.

“Easily,” Punt said, waving him off. “Leave the clankers to me.”

“8ball, I want you to be with him,” Kyr said. “You know the drill with B2s. See if you can’t get their plating to crumble before Punt takes his shot.”

Punch examined the group. “It might be useful to have 48 with them, too. I know he knows his way around a grenade, if it comes down to it.”

48 lit up even through the thick layers of armor, practically glowing under the plastoid. “Happily, sir.”

Kyr shot Punch a look, then 48. “It’s not a bad idea,” he permitted. “You three will head in. Course, I want you with them. The rest of us will be behind you to prevent a flank.”

Course wanted to argue against that. It made more sense to keep the medic with the bigger chunk of the group, especially when the men taking point would be ideally staying out of range of the B2s. But it wasn’t his job to question the order, and if Kyr was the one giving it, he’d follow it. Hopefully the rest of the unit would be staying close enough to them that it wouldn’t matter in the end anyway.

“Alright,” he said. At least if he went, he’d be able to stop 8ball and 48 from doing something inadvisable. He didn’t trust Punt to do as much.

Kyr grasped Course by the vambrace and tapped their helmets together for a few short seconds. “Good luck.”

Bastard. “You’re better off telling that to 8ball.”

An amused huff crackled through Kyr’s vocoder, and he gave Course one last pat to the back before moving to give 8ball and 48 the same treatment. The second Kyr stepped away from him, Myth fluttered up to Course.

“SBDs are slow but they hit hard,” Myth blurted. Then, all in the same breath, “Their plating is blast proof but there are weak points at the edges of each plate that if targeted can cause the internal components to be exposed and leave them more susceptible—”

Course shook his head. “Myth. We’ve got it. You focus on keeping the Geos away from us, we’ll worry about the Supers.”

Myth hovered a second longer, arms moving in little aborted jerks like he had more to say, before his head snapped into a nod and he hurried back toward Push and Pull.

An arm slung itself around Course’s shoulders and he tensed, turning his helmet and nearly clacking his helmet against 48’s.

“So… Babysitting duty,” 48 dragged out.

Course blinked slowly. “Yes. Babysitting you.”

“Kyr’s mad at 8ball right now, not me,” 48 dismissed. “You’re babysitting him.”

“You broke formation. He’s mad at both of you.”

“Yeah, but I only broke formation. 8ball’s doing 8ball-level stupid shit. He takes the lead.”

“Alright Crowns,” Punt sighed, pushing himself into their little bubble and grabbing 48 by the strap of his armor. “Let’s go blow up some B2s.”

They steered toward 8ball and, having collected their last stray teammate, set out into the valley that 8ball had scouted.

8ball darted to take point. “They should still be pretty far in, the big ones don’t do well with uphill slopes, if they even bothered chasing.”

“What are we looking for, exactly?” Punt asked, glancing around the steepening cliffs with a wariness that you couldn’t help but gain after having one too many Geonosians appear out of nowhere.

“There’s a gap between the cliffs that we need to go through to get to the landing zone,” 8ball said. “But a little bit before that there’s this place where a bunch of these mountain passes meet at a sort of crossroads. The droids were down the left one when I passed the first time. It’s only a few minutes out. I was thinking we could scale one of the ledges that overlook it and take pot shots from there.”

Course breathed an impatient sigh. “Coordinates, 8ball.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sending them now.”

A ping on the corner of his HUD appeared, and Course accepted it to update his local map with a location marker.

“We should probably start climbing now,” 8ball considered. “It’ll just get steeper the further in we go.”

Nobody was going to argue with a scout about local topography, so they began to painstakingly increase the distance between themselves and the ground, following 8ball as he made occasionally precarious hops between the cliffside’s sporadic footholds. Course’s only regret was that he wouldn’t get to watch the rest of their unit attempt the journey.

Course trailed behind the three of them, focusing his attention on the cliffs around them more than the conversation going on over their comms. Any sudden shadow made by the clouds drifting above them could be a Geonosian gunning for them, if not for the undisturbed quiet of the canyon. Geos typically didn’t run at them, though. All of the ones that Course had encountered thus far flew, and their wings made a distinct droning buzz that had reminded him of the insects they studied in their flash training modules—they hadn’t included audio, but the description couldn’t be like anything else. The Geos were presumably louder than a traditionally sized insect, but so far, he hadn’t run across one to compare them with.

“What do you think, Course?” 48 prompted suddenly over their comm. They were on relatively flat ground, now, and his brother peered over his shoulder back at him.

Course did not know what the topic was, but given the clones present, he didn’t think it mattered very much. He fixed his visor on 48 and stared wordlessly.

“See? I told you Course would agree with me,” 8ball bragged. “Your idea is stupid anyway. There’s no way that you’d be able to—”

Course rolled his eyes. “Stay on task.”

8ball sighed, but if he kept talking, it happened on a comm frequency that didn’t include Course, which was really all he could ask for.

They made it to the overlook in good time. Kyr would be glad, given that their rendezvous was supposed to be in twenty-two minutes and they were already pushing it. 8ball made quick work of dropping to his stomach and propping his sniper while 48 stooped to help Punt arm the grenades.

“Told you. I think they might be stuck,” 8ball crackled through the comm.

Course glanced over the ledge to get an idea of the scene and saw that, as 8ball had suggested earlier, the so-called “super” battle droids did indeed seem to be stuck at the bottom of a fifty-degree slope. Course struggled to think of too many other reasons the droids wouldn’t have gone to reinforce the B1s’ attack.

“Either that or they’re guarding the pass,” 8ball continued idly. “That’s the way we need to go. You need to make sure that you don’t blow up the entrance or I’m gonna have to find a new route and then we’re really gonna be late.”

Course looked past the SBDs and saw what 8ball must be referring to. Half blocked by the hulking frames of the supers was a crack in the cliff face. A clone could probably fit, if they took their time and entered sideways, but an SBD had no hope. Course just hoped that the rest of the pass widened out, if that’s the way they’d be having to go soon.

“Alright,” Course said. “Get to work.”

“Yeah? And what’re you gonna do, watch us?” 48 demanded. 

Course knew intrinsically that 48 just wanted to get a rise out of him, but he couldn’t help the slight air of annoyance as he said, “I’m going to watch your six so you don’t get ambushed. Hurry up.”

48 laughed as Course turned and stepped away to watch their flank. Course never did understand the carelessness of his brothers, but he wouldn’t be wasting the time trying to figure it out now of all times.

He was aware, vaguely, of Punt and 8ball coordinating their attack a solid few meters away, but Course examined the rocky ledges above and below them. This planet had an eerie atmosphere— eerie in the way that it seemed to house enemies that could appear or disappear in a moment. On the gunship down, Myth had rattled off a hundred different facts about the planet’s geography, but the one that Course remembered most clearly was that the Geonosians lived primarily under the surface, in dingy caves and tunnels. It made sense, if you wanted to avoid the glaring heat of the Geonosian sun, but it also meant that Course could never be sure that a shadow was just a shadow. The natural texture of the cliffs meant that there could be a tunnel mouth hiding just out of view at any point, and none of them would know any better.

“Ready?” 8ball asked.

Punt’s comm crackled as he spoke. “Go.”

A deafening crack shattered the quiet as 8ball took his first shot, followed quickly by a second. Course looked over just long enough to see Punt lobbing his first explosive down at the droids, a muffled blast following just seconds after.

“One damaged, one staggered,” 48 reported through their local helmet comm. “Eighty, target the one by the wall. Punt, the other one should be easy to finish off, its hull’s warping—”

Another crack as 8ball fired his sniper rifle, but Course didn’t look to see if it hit. Punt said something about the SBDs below, loud in Course’s ears as he fumbled to mute the incoming audio. A high pitched droning echoed in the walls of the canyon, quickly growing louder as its source approached. Where was it coming from?

“Course!”

That wasn’t over the comms, and Course didn’t have time to identify which brother had called out to him before unyielding hands grabbed him and hoisted him into the air.

Course had been trained for a lot of things. Impromptu, uncontrolled flight was one of them, actually, but it had always been in the context of jetkits, not flying enemies. He couldn’t cut the fuel line or unlatch this carrier from his armor. He couldn’t even complete a fraction of a twist, due to the hold the bug had him in, so wriggling his way out didn’t look likely. The droning from before now rattled his skull as the ground shrank underneath him, and he couldn’t hope to hear his brothers even if they somehow knew what to do in this situation—Myth would, but he wasn’t here either way. Course was alone.

Plasma bolts flew into the orange rock around him as the others tried to shoot at the bug, occasionally accompanied by the resounding crack of 8ball’s sniper, but either Course had been picked up by a master of evasion, or they were too afraid of shooting him instead of it. He’d love to tell them to just commit, because he’d much rather die getting shot than by whatever this thing had planned for him. The sound of rushing air muffled the shouts coming from below him, and as Course craned his neck to peer down, he realized that his window for surviving getting away from this bug was closing rapidly. Damned if you do…

Course would take death by falling over a secondary location any day. With that thought in mind, he ducked his chin as close to his chest as he could manage and slammed his head back into his captor with all his strength. He doubted he’d hit it anywhere important—the bugs that were big enough to carry a clone trooper had eerily long torsos—but between the barrage of blaster bolts and the headbutt, the bug loosened its grip enough for Course to jerk halfway out of its hold. The two of them dipped in the air for a moment as the Geonosian fought to maintain its grip on him, but with one arm free, Course was free to wretch the medical scissors out of his belt and stab at the bug until it gave up and dropped him completely.

Hurtling toward the ground was louder than heading up; the rushing air was familiar, and the absence of insectoid wings was more than made up for by the blood that roared in his ears. Somehow, both of those constants disappeared to highlight the sound his armor made as he skimmed the rock wall of the canyon. Course wasn’t sure if it would have been enough to slow his speed, but he had no time to run calculations. If he’d been thinking, he would have counted how long it took him to fall. It would give him an idea of how he should go about treating himself, should he survive the landing.

Unlike the first collision, Course did not hear himself hitting the ground. He could tell you how he landed—feet first, and then crumpling forward onto frantically-outstretched arms—but nothing else. He must have blacked out for a moment, perhaps upon impact? One minute he was falling, the next, he was flat on the ground. He knew how it happened but would be hard-pressed to describe it in any detail.

Sound filtered slowly back in through his helmet. Fuzzy voices of panicked brothers, indistinguishable without focus that he did not have. No more blaster-fire, no explosions, nothing to suggest they were still in danger. He found himself still on his front. The others must have caught up, because Myth or Pull would be the only ones with enough sense through the chaos to tell the others not to turn Course over in case of injury to the spine.

Course ignored the voices for a moment to focus deeply on the feel of his legs. They were in sharp, searing agony, which was nice. It meant that at the very least, he probably wasn’t paralyzed. His arms, too, ached, though not nearly as badly. But he survived, somehow, and although the realization slowly dawned that he hurt all over—no doubt from the events of the entire day, not just his impromptu flight—there was little more he could ask for.

Someone’s arm jostling his shoulder drew him out of himself, and a small sound of discomfort left him at the disruption.

“Course?” Kyr’s Leader Voice, unmistakably, which could only mean that he’d terrified his brother. “Can you hear me, vod?”

Course closed his eyes for a second. Can’t even fall out of the sky without having to do everything on his terms, he thought bitterly. He knew that was uncharitable. He also figured he was more than entitled to a little bit of a bad attitude, at that moment. He took a moment to brace himself. “… Yes.”

A chorus of identical voices broke out, quickly hushed, before Kyr spoke again. “What’s your status?”

Status? Course thought, astonished. That was… an unbelievable ask. He knew, logically, that Kyr falling back on protocol helped him to hold onto some sense of normalcy. His brother was definitely, certainly, very deeply concerned about Course. It still pissed him off. “… Blunt force trauma to the legs. Extensive. Probable minor damage to arms and skull,” he droned. “Recommended course of action is to administer one stim cannister to each leg and continue to the rendezvous.”

The chatter picked up again, and nobody shushed it this time.

“What?” Kyr demanded, pitch increasing in fractions. “You just broke both of your legs. You are not getting a stim and a pat on the back.”

“Protocol says I do.”

“This is an exception,” the Leader-Voice intoned, back in full-force and leaving no room for debate. “We’ve got seventeen minutes to get to the rendezvous. We can’t have you hobbling along behind us slowing us down. I’ll carry you.”

Course’s eyes shot open. “No, you won’t,” he argued, his normally flat tone lilting up with frustration and incredulity. “If you’d just administer the stim, I will be up faster than it will take you to figure out how to get me through that opening.”

“We’ll give you the stim and you can get through the narrowest part of the path,” Kyr agreed, “but once we can, I’m carrying you.”

“That is not protocol,” Course snarled, anger simmering up from his stomach.

“It’ll be faster.” Kyr’s voice held no concern for any potential breach in protocol. “The most important thing is that we make it to our rendezvous. How we get there isn’t so important.”

Course took a moment to process. If Kyr truly refused to relent on this… “Then I’ll be noting your disregard for protocol in my report.”

The quiet murmur of their other brothers cut out suddenly. Nobody said anything for a few long moments. A hesitant voice—who had to be either Myth or Pinch—was the next to speak.

“It’s really not worth it, Kyr. As long as we move now, we can still make it—”

“Write me up, then,” Kyr interrupted, ignoring the input entirely. His words grew sharper, edged in frustration. “I don’t care. I’m not having you walk on broken legs the entire way.”

He did not wait for a response, immediately injecting stim into the gaps between Course’s leg plates. Course supposed Kyr had spent the duration of the argument rummaging through Course’s med kit. A third, unexpected jab at the top of the neck startled Course, and he flinched away from it.

“I don’t trust that you didn’t hurt your back.” Kyr’s voice wasn’t so sharp now, perhaps in apology for the unwarranted extra shot.

Course did not grace him with any further reaction, instead rolling to his side and pushing himself upright. He ignored the influx of brothers at his every side, jerking to his feet with gritted teeth. Every pound of weight he put onto his legs sent screaming agony directly through his lower half, but he would not be encouraging Kyr’s disregard for regulation by doing anything other than breathe through it.

Kyr finally seemed to understand that he wouldn’t be getting acceptance out of Course today. “48, take point with 8ball.” Kyr continued to instruct the unit how they would proceed, fully ignoring the Green Squad Lead two meters away from him.

To Punch’s merit, he said nothing. He looked Course over and gave him a small nod as Kyr did his job for him. Course wondered how he just decided to let it go. Course wasn’t a squad lead. Wasn’t even kind of an officer, in any sense, other than being a medic, and even that being dismissed for what Kyr wanted to do was rage inducing. He couldn’t imagine spending his entire life being trained to lead others and then having some hard-headed ass swoop in and take that away from him.

They progressed to the ground level in a very nontraditional huddle of plastoid, half of them pointing their guns at every shadow on the rocks and the other half hovering around Course like he could turn to dust at any moment. If Course could focus on anything other than the amount of pain he was in, he was sure he’d tell them off so badly they wouldn’t ever look at him twice again.

The charred heaps of scrap that were once Super Battle Droids lay just in front of the narrow crevice that their unit would have to squeeze through. If Course was lucky, it would stay that narrow long enough for Kyr to drop the subject of carrying him.

Course glanced to 8ball. The scout inspected his sniper, uncharacteristically quiet, while 48 spoke lowly by the audio receptor of his helmet. What they were talking about, Course couldn’t say, but after a moment, 8ball nodded and pushed toward the front of the group to take point as previously instructed. He turned to the side and squeezed into the gap between the cliffs. A few steps in, he turned to face the unit again, waving cheerily.

48 went next, followed by half of Green Squad. There was a brief moment of concern where Punch nearly got his Z-6 stuck going through, but with a little pulling by 48, both clone and gun were in.

Kyr gestured Course to go first. Course assumed it was so that he could breathe down his neck the entire time, but bitterly followed the given instruction. Kyr followed close after. Blessedly, he did not attempt to hoist Course over his shoulder the moment they could walk straight.

Once the entire unit was confirmed to be in the passage, they began to make their trek. According to Course’s comm, they had approximately ten minutes before they were late for the rendezvous. Despite himself, anxiety began to bloom in the pit of Course’s stomach. The hard part of this deployment had already concluded—a brief firefight with Geonosian ground forces while the command class troopers and commandos knocked out the big stuff—and the only thing left was to show up on time.  What would happen to them if they failed to do something as simple as that?

He knew the others had to be feeling the same stress. Some of his brothers knew how to hide it better than others—he was pretty sure if Myth looked over his shoulder one more time, his neck would break—but every one of their lives hinged on a good combat report. Failure to do the one part of the mission that required them to think on their own feet wouldn’t look good. If they were lucky, they might end up somewhere nice and boring. If they weren’t—well, you don’t send your best troopers to fight on the front lines of losing battles. Maybe the Kaminoans would find the bleakest battle possible and deploy them there as cannon fodder.

About a minute later, the passage widened further, allowing them to pull up into a traditional two-lined formation lead by 8ball and 48 side-by-side. It was then that Kyr walked around Course and blocked his path.

Course fixed his T-visor on his brother. Kyr’s emotionless helmet peered back. He was sure both of them had their jaws set, could almost see the annoyed scowl Kyr must be wearing.  He knew all of their faces well, but he knew Kyr’s micro expressions better than anyone else.

Kyr didn’t seem eager to prolong their standoff any more than Course was. “You can let me carry you, or I will wrangle you into a hold.”

Unspoken: we don’t have time for this. Course knew that. At least Kyr didn’t feel the need to spell that one out for him.

Course said nothing for a moment. Reflected on the situation as a whole. Remembered the unspoken message he gave Kyr not an hour before—it happened, cope. He took a breath.

“It will be going in the medical report.”

“Fine by me.”

The air cleared suddenly. Course hadn’t realized it had ever thickened, but he felt it then.

Everyone else had expected him to cause a scene about it. They were waiting for him to dig his heels in and start an argument. Maybe because that’s what most of his batchmates would’ve done. Hell, if Kyr and Course were to trade positions, it was likely what Kyr himself would do. Maybe if they had any more time, Course wouldn’t let it fly so soon, but he knew that they didn’t have time to argue about it any more than they already had. So he let Kyr heft him over one shoulder.

Every step Kyr took, Course seethed. Not only was this a humiliating position to be in, but it was entirely unnecessary. Course had personally told Kyr of how every metric said they should proceed, and Kyr ignored him at every turn. The fact that he had gotten into this situation at all in the first place was ridiculous. There was no reason to send him on the team against the SBDs, except for that Kyr wanted supervision for the squadmates that he felt unable to trust with such a task. Which was stupid, given that all three had stayed on task just fine. Apparently, they even managed to take out the SBDs while trying to recover Course from the grips of the Geonosian. Punch should have been the one to go with 8ball, 48, and Punt. A heavy gunner would not only be helpful against the SBDs, but he would have stood a much better chance at deterring an oversized bug from trying to make off with a clone.

Anger rolled steadily through Course’s chest by the time they got to the rendezvous—with three minutes to spare, maybe Course had had some room to argue. Kyr set Course down just before they were swamped by other troopers. How kind of him. A company’s worth of clones milled about, a sea of shiny white plastoid ever-shifting as everyone tried to keep organized and stay with their squad while boarding the dropships meant to take them back to transport.

Kyr continued instructing their unit like he was the only one who knew what to do. Course listened as a formality, then turned to head toward the transport with their assigned number. They’d all read the brief—not just Kyr.

The troopers managing the transports gave him a nod as he limped up to the open door. Course couldn’t identify them, assuming he’d ever met them, but he did pity them a bit. Administrative tasks like they were doing weren’t the most impressive on a combat report. Might land them a title, but it’d be a title on some low-level base, given they weren’t command-class. It wasn’t the worst thing Course could imagine happening to a clone, but to many, it was world-ending.

Maybe clones were dramatic by nature, and it skipped a generation with him?

The rest of the unit piled into the transport, Greens brushing elbows with Crowns, and in minutes the ship was humming to life. Back to Kamino.

Course looked forward to his report.

-- -- -- --

Tumblr formatting is agonizing but I will learn it. Anything for my boys.

Chapter 2 can be found here

[cleverinsidejoke]

Part 2

Part 1 | Part 3

I had fun with this one. It's been fun getting this started, writing characters as best I can, and getting this show on the road! If there are any triggering parts in this, let me know and I'll add on a warning.

wc: 1957

  The air in the Angel’s Share had shifted. The drunk Bard’s loud singing and boisterous laughter had dwindled to silence. Diluc looked up from the inventory book, seeing Venti sitting upright and tense, hand wavering just by the bottle of dandelion wine, head inclined at a subtle angle, as though listening to the whispers of an unseen being. 

    Beneath the mountains of Liyue, Azhdaha ceases his cries as the world around him silences as Teyvat’s internal conflict resolves itself. The earth begins speaking again, indecipherable words that Azhdaha is accustomed to, growing louder and louder, deafening to his sensitive ears.

Zhongli hears it too. Even in this mortal form, he is still attuned to the stories Teyvat says, has grown accustomed to ignoring the senseless chatter of the world. The silence unnerves him.

    The entities of the Abyss shift in the ancient halls, quieting as something calls to them from afar. The Princess smiles to herself.

    In turn, Foul Legacy claws at the edges of Childe’s mind in a poor attempt at claiming consciousness. It settles for a quiet harmony of Abyssal murmurs. It feels strangely calm for the creature. Too human. Almost religious. 

    Teyvat has been disquieted, in disharmony with itself. It hides it well. Celestia cannot be allowed to know.

    The landing lacks the same harshness that pulled you to this strange world in the first place, instead landing you on the ground carefully, as you would a pet or a delicate heirloom. “So this is real, right?” You look over at Gene, collecting yourself. “We’re in Genshin Impact?” They shrug, looking around with caution. 

    “There’s the Dawn Winery.” you follow their gaze. Sure enough, there it was. You were on the heightened area near the Statue of the Seven, overlooking Springvale. From here, you could see the great city itself, windmills dimly lit by the moonlight. A crisp breeze blew in, rustling the tall grasses around you. With the quiet surroundings and the peaceful atmosphere, Mondstadt felt nothing short of home. 

    “I don’t care if it’s Buckingham Palace or Disneyland. I want to find someplace to sleep.” It turns out that being transported into a new world after a long day of stress wasn’t the greatest of feelings. You begin a careful descent towards the road, using Windrise as a point of reference. 

    “Likewise.” Gene follows, taking hold of your arm whenever your footing becomes unsteady. As Windrise grows closer, so grows your need for rest. You’re soon leaning on Gene for support. The gentle breeze fades as you approach the large tree. The Statue of the Seven looms larger than you expected, even stranger to see in real life. Gene takes the opportunity to touch it. The Statue’s light glows violet in turn. A slow transition.

    “Let’s just see if we can get some place at the Goth Grand Hotel or the Church. Surely the sisters can’t say no to us. The poor, helpless outlanders.” Slumping over their shoulder melodramatically, you yawn. “It’s getting too late.” The pair of you make your way to the city, with no real plan. Timmy is absent from the bridge. A shame. You rather liked tormenting seeing the boy interact with his pigeons. But it was late, and thus, understandable that he was absent. 

    “Halt, strange, yet respectable travelers!” The familiar line wakes you up a bit, your head snapping up to look at the speaker. It’s only Lawrence, accompanied by Swan, guarding the gate. Of course it wouldn’t be Amber. It’s not her duty to guard the gate, after all. “What brings you to the gates of Mondstadt so late?”

    “We’re only looking for a place to stay for the night, sirs.” Gene continues to shoulder your weight as they speak to the guards. They offer a disarming smile to the men. That same gentle twist of the lips that you’ve become so accustomed to. A smile that practically begs to be trusted.

    “The Church or the Headquarters may have a place for you to stay. Do you know anything, Swan?” Lawrence glances at the other man, probing for an answer. 

    “I’m not sure. I can escort them to the Church if need be.” Your drowsiness dampens the words, your body growing heavy. Soon, your weight is heavy on Gene’s back, unsupported by your consciousness as a deep slumber overtakes you.

    The Anemo Archon had become restless. The dandelion wine was left untouched on the counter, the solemn nature of the bard causing some unease in the tavern. Diluc almost preferred the boisterous and easygoing attitude. 

    Not that it mattered at the moment though. The tavern would be closing in a quarter of an hour. It was time to begin closing. Diluc began by approaching the other patrons, quietly asking them to leave and informing them that the tavern would close soon. Finally, it was down to Venti. 

    “It’s almost closing time.” The bard remained still, unresponsive. Then he turned, looking up at the bartender. 

    “The wind carried news, Master Diluc.” Venti’s soft smile is out of place, unmatched with his quiet tone. “Good news.” He seems to have been waiting for someone to ask. 

    “News?” He couldn’t deny his curiosity, especially if the Anemo Archon thought it was good.

    “The Creator has returned, Diluc! The Creator! And, if the winds are accurate, then they’ve brought another with them!” Venti grinned, standing from his chair. “They should have reached Mondstadt by now. Good night, Diluc.” 

    The influx of information causes Diluc to stiffen. The Creator? But the holy texts had predicted them to arrive much later. Venti pranced out of the tavern, leaving the bartender alone to his thoughts in the Angel’s Share. 

    Venti allowed the wind to guide him, whispers fueling his excitement. Following the new Anemo footprint of the Creator, he made his way to the Church of Favonius. 

    You awoke to the sound of idle chatter. Sitting up, you took in the sight of the well lit interior of the Church of Favonius. Gene’s laughter was what rang out across the church, allowing you to get up and track them more easily. You grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around yourself, following the voices.

    You had been sleeping on a pew in the back of the church, so it wasn’t all that difficult to walk to the front, where people were gathered and talking. As you picked apart the crowd, you could see Barbara, the sisters, Gene, and Venti himself. 

    “Oh, Y/N!” Gene waved you over, settling their hand on their neck as they turned their attention to the others. “This is my dearest friend.” folding your arms across your chest, you approach the group, giving an awkward wave. Part of you had hoped it was a dream. The reality was an uncomfortable one to be accustomed to.

    “Oh, so this is the esteemed friend you spoke of!” Venti approaches quickly, drawing a subtle flinch from Gene. “Of similar caliber to yourself, Creator?” The final word is what captures your attention. Creator? You had read the stories and Aus. This couldn’t possibly end well, could it?

    “Yes. Y/N is from the same realm as myself.” Their discomfort was obvious, in need of something to lean onto. You approach, draping an arm across their shoulders.

    “Yep! So… what tales of grandeur are said about you, Gene?” Perhaps if you can find what myths detail them, then you can prevent future danger.

    “I’m not sure. I’ve been away for so long…” With a nervous laugh, Gene looks back to the people. Long conversations with strangers, no matter how familiar they seem, had always been a bit difficult for them.

    “Do you have any tales, Venti?” You offer a point of conversation to the extroverted bard. 

    “Of course! I’ll tell you all about it. We’ve even got a whole, ehm... library, for you.” Venti laughed. “I’ll tell you about it when we get there. C’mon!” Approaching the end of the cathedral, opening the entrance to the basement. “Oh, Barbara! Is everything ready down there?”

    “Yes, yes!” A rushed voice called back, the stairs creaking. The blonde deaconess exited the basement, curtsying as she spotted Gene. “It’s really you! And your attendant! It’s truly my honor to be present so soon after your descent.” Her words are honeyed, too sweet for your liking. “Um, please come down! We’ve been preparing it for you.” She ushers you down the stairs quickly, the creaking accompanying you. 

    You’re greeted by the expansive basement, the far ambulatory chambers with statues in the likeness of each archon, another in the likeness of Gene in the center of the apse. The nave has pews closer to the statue, albeit only a few rows. Bookshelves line the walls closest to the front. It is a meager church, unlike what you read about. 

    “The worship of the Creator is prohibited by Celestia.” Venti pipes up. “In fact, all texts about you were abolished and almost completely destroyed. This is what remains after years of tracking them down.”

    “Venti happened to have a collection. After your signs began appearing across Teyvat, the churches and temples opened in secret again. I would say they began happening after the Traveler arrived in Mondstadt.” Barbara smiles sweetly. “You’re more than welcome to come here as much as you’d like.”

    “Thank you.” The pleasantries continue as you wander over to the bookshelves, looking for interesting titles and points to research. “The Books of Creation”, “The Heavenly Principles” “Prophecies of the Primordial One”... Each book proves worthy of looking over. Pulling one off the shelf, you begin to read, opening to a note in the beginning. It appears to be a dedicated journal.

    The Creator, on their own, is reality. The only god needed to prosper. With their blessings, our nation can prosper. Remember that, Alberr.

    You skim through the everyday things, gathering context clues until you begin to read fully.

19.8. 

    The field tillers are working better than we thought they would. Other nations have expressed concern involving them, but it is a breakthrough that we cannot allow to go to waste.

24.8

    Siarri consulted the books the other day. The Creator is due to return from their journey soon. Perhaps they can give us an ultimatum about the field tillers then. I don’t want to give up so easily on the years of work we’ve put into it. It’s worth being outcasted from the other nations. 

24.8 

    Siarri has taken to calling me names.

1.12

    The creator is late.

25.1

    Khaenri’ah has fallen. Celestia came in with no prior signs of hostility. The archons were there too, fighting with a vengeance. Almost like they were taking something back. Were they upset because their people were inclined towards our ways?

    Celestia has been in turmoil since then. Worship of the Creator has been outlawed. Does that extend to the archons? Aren’t they closer to the Creator than us mortals are? Barbatos and Rukkhadevata used to be all for the worship of the Holy one. Maybe the Cataclysm is what caused this change. It caused Khaenri’ah to fall, so I can only imagine what damage has been caused to Sumeru and Mondstadt. What damage it will eventually cause.

    We can’t blame anyone. But we can make inferences. I’m going to travel and make as many connections as I can. I’ll get another journal to write that down in.

29.12

To-Do

Buy a new bag journal   

Check in with the kids

Document Mondstadt

    The journal is gently taken from you, glanced at briefly by the taker, and set aside. “I’m afraid that wasn’t meant to go to the library.” The voice is immediately recognizable. You turn carefully. “Kaeya, Knight of Favonius. It’s an honor.”

[hungriestheidi]

Sebchal & confess

send me a pairing and a number and i'll write you a short fic!

so, i really like this vibe ngl. tw: catholicism i suppose!

The clock keeps ticking, a gimmick his head has concocted to let him know he’s wasting time. He’s waiting and waiting for a redemption that won’t come. He knew it when he first came here, begging for something he didn’t really want, hands and knees on the coarse wood of a confessional booth. 

“Father?” He says, softly.

“Son?” Is it weird when the priest calling you son is as young as your little brother? Does it mean anything when he can make the sharp cut of his profile and how lovely he looks in this dim light, a nose so noble it seems fitting of a sculpture?

“Are you going to…” Sebastian takes a deep breath, opens and closes his fists, nails digging into the meat of his palms. “I don’t, I don’t know, absolve me?”

“Confess,” the priest says instead.

Sebastian blinks slowly. “I just did that.”

The priest lets out an exasperated huff. Sebastian can see him pinching the delicate bridge of his nose, shaking his head, muttering something to himself. 

“Sebastian, you keep coming to my church and I must know what you want” he says, the words biting at him like a dog nibbling on a worn bone. “I need to know… if you want to sink me with your demons.”

Sebastian chuckles. 

“You are too righteous for that,” he shakes his head, a smile stretching over his lips. The collar of his shirt digs into his neck, rubs and rubs until the flesh is raw, like a noose would feel before it kills you. “You think me a filthy demon ridden monster, a married man, a father at that!”

“Sebastian…” The priest says, his voice is soft, airy, defeated.

“Father Leclerc.”

The priest laughs, a sound that enunciates the ‘haha’ with soft, lilting edges. 

“Fuck you calling me father—”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow. “Strong words, Father”

“—like it doesn’t turn you on just to say it.” he finishes. 

“Everything about you turns me on,” he responds, tightening his hold on the wood in front of him.

“Shut up,” he demands. It’s dark and dusty, and the sloshes of light carry specks of dust like little bugs in the night. The priest’s eyes lift, the light catches on the rivets of gold and green on the beauty of his irises. “Dear Lord, please spare me.”

“I say that night and night again, he’s not rushing to change me I’m afraid.” Sebastian licks his lips, his eyes are burning. “I still desire the flesh of men, even when I lay with a woman every night.”

A pause, a sharp inhalation. 

“Does she know?” The priest asks. 

“How could she,” Sebastian responds, shrugging. “Her father would have me stoned, old timey like that.”

The priest sighs. “Sebastian…”

“Father?” He asks in return. 

Father Leclerc takes a deep breath, his head bows, chin tucked against his chest. 

“I must not tell you what to do,” he says, careful, measured, “but you must confess.”

“Have I not already?”

“Confess what do…” his voice trembles, his teeth scraping over his lips and Sebastian wishes he could reach through the lattice work and touch him. “What do you want to do with me?”

Sebastian takes a deep breath, his hands fall to his lap as his head drops. They flex open and closed on the fabric of his slacks, black, soft and stiff all at once, a texture that makes him shiver if he thinks about it for too long.  

He lets out a long breath, a huff almost. “I want to kiss you,” he says, the filthiest of his fantasies always feel like mundane things he did with any girl when he was fourteen. “Hold you in my arms, loop my fingers through your hair and kiss you until you are breathless.”

There is silence and when he looks up the open space on the other side of the latticework is empty, a dusty sunlight in its stead.   

“Father?” He asks, his voice low and faltering, a thousand fears at once in the void that spears him through the heart. 

The curtain of his small booth flies open, violent and sudden. The priest is standing there, impossibly tall, divine. His features are hardened, eyebrows tightly knit, lips parted ever so slightly. He is trying to say something, Sebastian can read it in the movement of the muscles of his jaw, their rhythmical tightening and relaxing. Then he leans in. his hands pull Sebastian’s collar until he’s standing, elevated by a force not his own, by a body not owned by his will, and then Father Leclerc pulls him in, his lips chapped and beautiful like heaven must be against his own.  

“Heathen,” he says when they part, but there is a smile on his words and he lurches to kiss him again. 

[passivenovember]

“You know how I used to have a crush on you?”

Steve looks up from his math homework, sort of. Stuck in that space between awake and swimming. 

Billy won’t look at him. The end of his pencil has been chewed to shit, his rough draft for Erickson’s American History seminar laying blank and discarded on the lush green carpet of Steve’s bedroom floor.

“I guess so,” Steve tells him. Only, he doesn’t know. 

They’ve never talked about it. But, with Billy, it’s best to go along with what he says, most of the time. Unless Steve’s looking to get his head chewed off, and. 

Consequently, Steve needs his head for midterms.

There’s a powder-pink flush across Billy’s cheeks. An edge to his voice when he says, “I made a list,” 

Like Steve’s supposed to know what that means.

"You did?” Steve asks. Because he doesn’t know. He leans back against the footboard of his window seat, legs stretching like a bridge between them. “Is it a good list?”

Billy shrugs. His cheeks get redder, somehow.

He’s pretty. Like a sugared lollipop.

Steve leans forward, “It’s a pros and cons list?” 

Steve’s cocky. knows from dating Nancy that his pros outweigh his cons by a couple lines. Mentions of his cock and chest hair. 

He’s nervous, all of a sudden.

Doesn’t admit that even though there’s no way he’s getting into college, he hopes that someone as bright and magnetic as Billy will still want to neck at the drive in. 

Billy crosses his arms. Frowns. Says, “It’s a list of Icks,” all pissy, like Steve has control over that stuff.

And it makes sense Steve would find out that all his dreams are coming true when they can’t take a minute to celebrate. He feels like a shooting star, anyway. His head takes a break from swimming in equations and backstrokes through insurmountable joy.

He grins. “What’s an ‘ick’?”

“It’s something you do that makes my stomach turn,” Billy rumbles, so low Steve imagines rocks and pebbles jumping like popped corn on the ground outside. 

He sticks his legs out in front of him, leaning back a little so Billy’s faced with the long, lean line of him. 

One of Nancy’s pro’s. Tall.

“Tell me about ‘em,” Steve says. 

There’s every possibility that Billy hates him for stuff he can’t change. Like the way he smiles or how he laughs, but. Nobody’s perfect, right? 

"Fuck you, Harrington,” Billy says, baby blues tracing the bulge of Steve’s thighs, “I’m not--”

“You brought it up.”

“You’ll get your feelings hurt. Run crying to mama so I won’t be invited over anymore, and then who’s gonna help you get into college?”

Steve snorts. “I’m not getting in, anyway,” He uses his toe to poke at Billy’s knee cap, smiling when he rocks a little with the force. “C’mon. I wanna know what’s wrong with me so I can change and be perfect.”

Billy mumbles under his breath but he reaches around to his backpack, shirt riding up around his belly so Steve gets a peek at his stomach muscles. 

When he turns back around he’s got a piece of crisp, quartered notebook paper in hand. In the light from the window, Steve can see that it’s full, which.

Isn’t great for his esteem. 

Billy clears his throat. “Number one--”

“You numbered them?”

“From least disgusting to most,” Billy snaps. Like, duh. “Number one. When you do your Arnold Schwarzenegger impersonation and you dribble spit on your chin.”

“I gotta use my full range of motion to get the vowels right.”

“It’s gross,” Billy says, but he smiles. And giggles, happy like the Gerber baby and he’s so fucking cute Steve’s gonna die. “Can I keep going, or--”

“Be my guest.”

Billy smooths his list, mouthing the next line before reading aloud. 

Steve wants to add that to his own list, just to be spiteful.

“Number two,” Billy reads, “That time you went to the barber and he had to pump the chair a little to get--”

Steve laughs, bright and sudden.

He shuts right the fuck up when Billy glares.

“Number three,” Billy tells him, the paper shaking a little in his grasp. “The sound you make when you eat something spicy. Number four, any time you open an umbrella and the wind makes it pop inside out. Number five, when you tie your shoes too efficiently and the bow is really big--”

“I’m a present. The bow is essential,” Steve sits up straight, suddenly worried. “Let me see that fucking--”

Billy blocks him with a strong arm to the chest. “C’mon, let me get through it,” He says. Like it matters. 

Like it’s important to him. Billy’s continued survival hinges on this moment, so.

Steve settles down and listens to Billy read, all the way down to number twelve: when we play crack the egg with the kids on Dustin’s trampoline and you’re the egg.

And Steve has to ask, “How long have you kept this list, man?” Because that was last summer. 

And Steve remembers his stomach tying itself into knots when Billy dropped Max off and stayed until the sun set. He remembers going home after the kids fell asleep, Billy tagging along. Smoking pot and blowing clouds into the twinkling night sky. He remembers Billy laughing at his jokes staying up all night to catch fireflies with him. 

Steve remembers the sunrise, its first lavender rays bringing with it a sunburn across Billy’s freckles. He remembers falling in love. Or realizing it.

Billy shrugs, “I wrote the first one to help me get over you.”

Steve frowns. Hopes it didn’t work and says, “What’s the first one?”

Because if he knows, maybe he can change it. Maybe he can cheat the system and get Billy’s love focused on him again, burning hot and heady.

Billy stares at him for a long, breathless moment. “You dress up for Halloween,” He admits. “The way your nose supports the weight of sunglasses wigs me out.”

And.

Steve’s belly swoops low, like he’s been at the peak of the highest hill on a rollercoaster. Now he’s plummeting down to Earth. Right now, he’s a crash dummy colliding with the realization that--

“That was love, the first night we met,” Steve says bluntly. Billy’s cheeks look like apples, fresh and embarrassed. “That night, at Tina’s Halloween party--”

“I didn’t say I was in love with you--”

“I know, I’m saying I’m in love with you,” Steve admits, like. Leap.

A lot of things happen at once. 

Billy’s whole face cracks open. His eyes look like swimming pools overflowing with emotion until they turn into lakes and rivers and oceans, pulling Steve under with all their sincerity.

Outside Steve’s window, the sun shines.

It casts a halo of golden love around Billy’s head. He looks like an angel.

Steve’s never going to let him go. 

He leans forward, “Keep reading,” Steve asks softly. “C’mon, I wanna hear.”

Billy jerks into motion, tearing his eyes away to scan the page in front of him. “Number thirteen,” He tries, swallowing until his throat clicks, “When we’re swimming in the pool and you’re trunks inflate so it looks like you’re wearing a diaper.”

Steve chuckles, allowing his fingers to wrap playfully around the ends of Billy’s hair.

Now that the truth is out, he’s going to touch. 

Billy shivers. “Number fourteen, when you put on Chapstick and you’ve sharpened the applicator so it looks like a sword or a baby finger.”

Steve cups the back of Billy’s neck. 

Pulls himself forward.

When they kiss, Billy’s notebook paper glides to the floor.