#//And mind spirals enough to make him up and leave; either abruptly or with a stiff 'I need a moment'. But he needs OUT immediately

[adumbratrapedme]

tsukishima x reader | teen pregnancy. pt 1 the news.

Synopsis. a teen pregnancy storie between tsukishima and reader.

wc. 3,5k words aprox. | genre. angst to fluff | cw/tags. angst to fluff, teen pregnancy mentions, etc. TW: BAD ENGLISH X,D

links: kenma | hinata | kageyama | yamaguchi | yachi(!? teen pregnancy series masterlists here!

important ! Please read the note at the end! And make sure you reblog if you liked it heh-

General Headcanons:

╭⋅ When you first tell him, his initial reaction is complete silence. His golden-brown eyes widen for a brief second before he pushes his glasses up, avoiding eye contact. ╭⋅ His rational mind immediately jumps to practical concerns: finances, school, and future plans. ╭⋅ I also have this idea that Yamaguchi would be the first one he would go to, although we see Tsuki as someone cold, I know he trusts Yamaguchi with all his being. ╭⋅ Probably a little rude when you first break the newssz… ╭⋅ Tsukishima isn't one for grand declarations, but his actions speak volumes. He starts researching everything - prenatal care, parenting, balancing school and work. ╭⋅ Becomes incredibly protective of you. If anyone dares to judge or gossip about your situation, his glare alone is enough to silence them!!! ╭⋅ He goes out of his way to make sure you're comfortable. He'll bring you snacks, make sure you're not overexerting yourself, and even argue with doctors if he thinks you're not being taken seriously but don’t ya’ dare make a comment on it or he will deny how much he cares!! ╭⋅ Though he's still sarcastic and snarky, his teasing becomes lighter, more affectionate. You'll often catch him staring at you with a mixture of awe and worry.

The words hang in the air between you.

“I’m pregnant.” At first, Tsukishima freezes. His gaze locks onto you, and for a moment, you wonder if he even heard you. His eyes widen slightly behind his glasses, but he doesn’t speak. His silence feels suffocating. “…Say something.” Your voice trembles, barely above a whisper.

He finally shifts, letting out a harsh breath through his nose, running a hand through his blond hair.

“You’re serious?” His tone is sharp — defensive.

You nod, tears welling up in your eyes.

“I wouldn’t lie about something like this, Kei.”

Tsukishima stands abruptly, pacing the room like he’s trying to escape the weight of the news. His mind races. He’s always prided himself on being in control, on having a plan for everything. But this? This was never part of the plan. “We’re still kids,” he mutters under his breath. “We can’t… we can’t do this.”

His words cut deep.

“I know it’s not ideal, but… unfortunately it’s happening,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

But Tsukishima is spiraling. His insecurities — his fear of being useless, of being a failure — consume him. He feels like the scared little boy he used to be, watching his family fall apart. “What about school? What about your future?” His voice is colder now. “Do you really think this is going to work out? Do you think I’m ready to be a father?”

The tears you’ve been holding back spill over.

“I didn’t expect this either, Kei. But I thought… I thought you’d at least try to be here for me.” His heart cracks at the sight of your tears. He wants to comfort you, but he’s too afraid. He’s terrified of messing everything up — terrified that he’ll hurt you or the baby. So he says nothing.

You shake your head, grabbing your bag.

“If you don’t want to be part of this, just say it. I won’t force you to stay.”

The door slams behind you, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

That night, Tsukishima doesn’t sleep. He stares at the ceiling, replaying your words over and over. He called Yams a few minutes after you left to explain the situation. He ranted about his fears and admitted how he treated you. Of course, Yams was shocked by the news, but he made sure to make Tsukishima realize how rude he’d been toward you—and kind of pushed him to apologize.

The guilt gnaws at him. He knows he hurt you — knows he’s running away from his own fears. But he can’t stop thinking about you, walking through this alone, carrying his child.

The next day, he shows up at your door, like he usually would when walking to school together —except this time yams isn’t here — His hands are stuffed in his pockets, and he looks exhausted, dark circles under his eyes.

When you open the door, you’re surprised to see him, but you quickly mask your emotions.

“What do you want?” You tell him as you hang your backpack on your shoulder and close the door behind you.

For a moment, he doesn’t know what to say. But then he steps forward, closing the distance between you. “I’m sorry.” His voice is low, almost a whisper. “I was scared.”

Your eyes soften, but you stay guarded.

“You think I’m not scared too?”He nods, guilt washing over him.

“I know. And I should have been there for you.” He takes a shaky breath. “I… I don’t know if I’ll be a good father. Hell, I don’t even know how to take care of myself and even our relationship sometimes. But…”

He reaches out, gently taking your hand.

“I want to try. I’m not going to leave you — or the baby. We’ll figure it out. Together.” You can see the sincerity in his eyes — the vulnerability he rarely shows anyone.

“Kei…” Your voice breaks, he pulls you into a hug, holding you tightly. For the first time in days, you feel like you can breathe again. His arms around you feel like home, even if the future is uncertain.

“I’ll be better,” he murmurs against your hair. “For you. For our kid.”

A soft laugh escapes your lips through the tears.

“Our kid, huh?”He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. His expression softens in a way you rarely see. “Yeah. Our kid.”

There’s still fear lingering in his heart, but for the first time, it’s outweighed by something stronger — love.

As he rests his hand gently on your stomach, a rare, genuine smile tugs at his lips.

“We’re going to be okay.” And for the first time in a long while, you believe him.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Tsukishima isn’t perfect, and he knows the road ahead won’t be easy. But he’s determined to stay by your side, to be the partner and father you both deserve.

chan's note: hihihi soo as i said before this will be a series for all haikyuu boys, i'll try to cover all the aspects of a teen pregnancy by chapters such as: breakin the news to friends, birth, first days, etc. As for now i'll finish all karasuno's first years (and kenma) and ill continue with the second years & 3rds years.

TAGLIST:

@chilichopsticks @dreadnoughtus101

if anyone else wants to be part of the taglist just tell me heh..

[aeb-art]

We're Both Still Here

Loop x Siffrin

Summary: Siffrin kept trying touch therapy with people who wouldn't remember and no longer reacted. Why didn't he just do it with Loop instead? (This starts from the third touch therapy conversation.)

CW: Depersonalization (briefly in the begining) and Body Horror (it doesn't go into too much detail, but I took liberties with Loop's anatomy)

(ao3 link)

Siffrin was visibly panicking and he felt exponentially worse knowing there was an audience.

Loop had only wanted to know how his touch therapy was going and not only was Siffrin not getting any more comfortable with physical contact, but he stopped getting any reaction to his attempts at all. Loop definitely had a feeling about all of that, they were either really good at theorycrafting or he was right about them being able to read his mind.

His eye was blown wide looking down into the dirt, but unable to see anything at all. Sitting there in silence, his mind spiraled down into a pit. His thoughts grew so deafening, the world around him disappeared.

His friends used to react when he touched them. Why weren’t they reacting now? Poke, poke, poke, poke. He kept trying and trying, loop after loop now, but nothing changed. It was like he wasn’t even there anymore, it was like he was being erased. Was he there? Was he even alive?

Someone, anyone... Please......

A voice cut through the overwhelming static in his head. “I see you, Stardust.”

Siffrin’s head shot up to look at Loop, still sitting across from him. Even without a clear head, he could see as Loop tried to not shrink under the intensity of his haunted stare.

“I see you. Y-you’re still here, look!” Hesitantly, they reached out a hand. It was just a quick poke, just a press of their finger to his palm, just enough pressure that it could be felt through his glove. They were warm… “Stardust. You’re here, with me.” Loop seemed to smile at him with their eyes.

Siffrin took in a big shaky breath, before exhaling. Then he repeated it again, steadier now, more stable. His face grew a bit more relaxed as his breathing evened out, though his shoulders remained tense.

“You’re also here,” Siffrin finally smiled back. “with me.”

“...!” Now Loop’s eyes widened and their posture straightened abruptly. Their head seemed to glow a little brighter. A surprised laugh escaped them as they struggled to respond to his words or even process them. “Ha... I sure am!!!!!!” Their voice got way too loud, completely out of their control.

Siffrin tried to hold back a laugh, but couldn’t help it when he got to see them flustered for a change.

Sparks flew from Loop’s head and fizzled into nothingness before they hit anything. They crossed their arms over their just with a huff and turned their eyes away from him. “Here I was trying to comfort you and you laugh at me? I never knew you to be so cruel, Stardust!”

“Thank you, Loop.” He relaxed more in his seat on the root. Normally he’d leave after this, but this actually turned into a nice distraction from his usual thoughts, so he decided to push it. “I just thought of something actually.”

“And what might that be?” They gave him the most bombastic side eye he’d ever seen.

“I keep trying touch therapy with people who don’t know I’m doing it and won’t remember. Even if they were still reacting, I wasn’t really making any progress, was I?” He looked away from them now, his resolve almost dying under their scrutiny. Get to the point, Siffrin. He exhaled. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to try it with you?”

Loop just stared at him silently, eyes wide. Their head grew even brighter. They were really off-kilter today, weren’t they? Siffrin was on a roll.

“I’m not gonna force you, obviously...” His own cheeks darkened a little. He wasn’t really thinking about Loop’s comfort when he asked that. That was a little insensitive, wasn’t it? They definitely weren’t used to being touched.

“I don’t see how touching me would help you touch them... I’m not them.” They rubbed at their upper arms as the skin there frizzled in and out of shape. “I wouldn’t react like them.”

“If it helps me not flinch, then I think it’d be worth it.” He shrugged. “Besides, physical contact apparently makes people more... normal... I think we both need that.”

“...You could’ve worded that a lot nicer.” They glared at him before their shoulders slumped. “But I suppose I am getting rather stir-crazy. At least you can walk around.”

“How come you never leave the tree?” Siffrin scooted over on the root where he sat and patted the spot next to him.

They groaned, but hopped up from their seat anyway and gestured down to themself with a flourish. “I don’t exactly look human, Stardust. I don’t want to deal with the townsfolk mistaking me for some wandering Sadness or anything like that.” They had a skip in their step as they closed the distance and twirled around before they sat beside him, thankfully on his right side. He assumed they’d move like that, but he’d never seen them get up until now.

Siffrin hadn’t really considered that Loop looked unusual, he’d gotten way too used to being around them. If it wasn’t their glowing star head and night sky patterned body, it would be the unnaturally stretched out limbs. When they first met, Siffrin thought it looked like their bones were too long for their skin, but after months stuck with them, he was pretty sure there weren't any bones in there at all. Their body vibrated sometimes when they got emotional, like they would literally tear themself apart if they didn’t calm back down.

What was touching them going to feel like? Maybe Siffrin could take his gloves off to find out? No, no, Loop would think that was out of character for him and they’d be right. Loop was normally right, and he couldn’t let them be right about another thing.

“So how are we doing this exactly?” Loop turned to face them. “You aren’t just going to poke and prod at me all afternoon, are you?”

“Well, I mean... What am I allowed to do?” Siffrin shifted to face them better too, if felt rude not to match them.

“Oh, so I’m expected to lead this dance then? Typical.” They scoffed and held out their hand. “Give me your hand before I change my mind.”

Siffrin immediately, obediently, lifted his hand up and put it in theirs. They both flinched, but Loop grabbed him before he could pull back. They loosened their grasp when he settled and their thumb softly rubbed the back of his hand. Even through the glove, he could feel they were comfortably warm. Actually, being this close to them made him feel warmth radiating from them. Just having them near was like waking up in a warm bed in a cold room.

“See? We’re both still here, Stardust.” They seemed to smile again.

Siffrin squeezed their hand and smiled back. “We are.”

“This is probably already more than you’re used to, so... I’m not sure how much you want to push this.”

“Mira’s been brushing my hair near the end. That’s more than this.”

Loop just blinked at him for a moment. “You want me to play with your hair?”

Siffrin’s cheeks darkened. “Well, no? I mean, that’d be... nice... But I just meant that I can handle more.”

“Ugh...” Loop abruptly stood from the root and pulled Siffrin to stand up with them. “C’mon, we’re gonna go sit up in the canopy.”

“Huh? Wha- why?” He tried to get an answer out of them, but they already let go of him and started climbing. He knew they probably hid up in the tree when he wasn’t around, but watching them scale it so easily was still jarring to watch.

“Show some hustle, Stardust!” They looked back down just to tease him. “You don’t have all day!”

They had all the time in the world, but now didn’t seem like a great time to bring it up.

Siffrin sighed and started climbing. He hadn’t climbed a tree in a while and it was even worse feeling Loop’s eyes on him the whole way up, but he managed! He only slipped up twice!

Loop reached out a hand when Siffrin got to the top and helped him the rest of the way. There was a comfy bed of leaves at the top, perfect for napping apparently. Siffrin had been up there before, for their unfortunate little hangout… That day had actually been really nice until the end… Nowhere near nice enough to repeat though, not even close.

“Come here.” Loop was sitting down and patting their lap. Their head was glowing brighter again, their body betraying their empty expression. “Lay down.”

Oh, they were really going to play with his hair, huh?

Siffrin, with hesitance and excitement in equal measure, scooted over and rested his head down on their legs, setting his hat down beside them. They jolted, but put a hand on his head before he got back up. This was fine… There was absolutely nothing weird about this…

Loop’s fingers gently brushed his hair out of his face. Their fingers felt like… like a soft sand almost? It was weirdly grainy, but not uncomfortably so. It definitely should have been uncomfortable, but the moment their fingers scratched a little behind his ear, Siffrin was practically melting in their lap. Thinking about Loop’s weird body could wait until later, when his brain turned back on.

“Pfft- you are like a cat.” They held back laughing too hard, so they wouldn’t shake up too much. “Your allies don’t know what they’re missing.”

That comment certainly soured Siffrin’s mood. What was Loop’s problem with his family? They always got so weird about it! Before he could say anything though, Loop’s hand brushed his neck and he squirmed.

Loop paused. “Stardust... Did you just squeak?~” They would have the most devious grin on their face if they had a mouth.

“No!” His cheeks flushed and his hands covered his mouth as he glared up at them.

“You’re soooooo cuuuuuute!~” One of their hands pinched his cheek while the other twirled some of the hair at the nape of his neck around their finger.

He couldn’t stop the whine that left his throat before he could slap their hands away. He sat up quickly holding his hands around his neck. “My neck is off limits now.”

“Boooooo! You’re no fun!” They whined and reached out for him as he backed away. “You were doing so good!”

“How would you like it if I touched your neck, huh?”

“I don’t think that qualifies for your touch therapy, Stardust, unless you plan on choking that Fighter of yours.” They held a hand over where their mouth would be as if that would at all prevent giggles from escaping them. “Not that your tiny hands could ever fit around his big neck anyway.”

“I would never do that.” His face scrunched up in disgust.

“Buuuuuut... I suppose fair is fair.” They sighed and beckoned him closer. “Though I reserve the right to push you away from me.”

“Just don’t knock me out of the tree...” He grumbled and crawled back to their side. It would be quite the embarrassing way to die, wouldn’t it? That was assuming it killed him though. He could wind up simply injured, which would be more embarrassing if he was being honest; he’d have to hear Loop laughing at him for far longer if he lived.

Loop leaned down a bit, which offended Siffrin more than he’d like to admit. They weren’t that much taller than him, they didn’t have to rub it in. He tried to hide his pout as he reached out to them, but he could tell they seemed pleased as punch about it.

Gently, Siffrin brushed his fingers along where Loop’s collarbone would be. They shivered and little spikes popped in and out of their form, poking at his hand. They didn’t pull away, they didn’t move at all, so he kept going. He trailed a finger slowly up the center of their neck before scratching where their chin would be between the star’s spikes, watching with rapt attention as Loop’s head tilted up and their back arched.

“Oh, now who’s like a cat?~” He teased them, squinting his eye as their head grew brighter.

“Shush...” Loop’s voice didn’t have any heat to it at all. They just leaned further down so he’d keep scratching, though he doubted it was a conscious decision.

He brought his other hand up to try and see if the spikes near where an ear might be would feel good scratched… Apparently it was, because Loop was immediately melting with a happy little hum. They almost fell forward and had to hold onto his shoulders so they didn’t completely collapse. Siffrin flinched when they did it, but they were far too out of it to notice.

“Uhh... Are you still with me, Loop?” Siffrin’s scratching turned into petting, running his fingers along the spikes and watching as sparks of light flew off and fizzled into nothingness. It was weird, the spikes were solid at first, but as Loop relaxed, his hands passed through them until he touched the core that was their head. It felt like his hand waded through the light, before it eventually felt like there was nothing there except the warmth they radiated. Even weirder was that Loop’s head never looked any different, the shape remained the same, but he could see his hand floating in it.

“Mmh...” They hummed and their eyes slowly opened, not even realizing they closed them at all. “Sorry, it’s... nice.”

“This is the happiest I’ve ever seen you.” Siffrin smiled at them.

“I’ve been happy loads of times.” They seemed to be pouting at him.

He laughed fondly. “You’re not as good an actor as you think you are, Loop.”

Very suddenly, Loop’s hand was on Siffrin’s face and they were shoving him away from them. He shrieked and flailed as he was forced down on his back.

“Loooooop, c’mon!” He whined and smacked at their arm. Their hand was still pressing his head down against the tree. “You were doing so good!” He couldn’t help but throw their own words back at them, perhaps they were rubbing off on him.

“This is supposed to be about you...” They were blushing harshly now, which is to say that Siffrin couldn’t see anything for a minute.

“It was still helping me! I don’t think I’ve held anybody’s face before and- and... you got really close... so...” Siffrin petered off, flushing. Loop did get pretty close to his own face, huh? It didn’t feel that intimate until it was over, but reflecting on it had his heart pounding in his ears. “A-anyway it helped- er, helps?”

Their hand moved away from his face, but before Siffrin could sit back up, a weight on his chest held him down.

“For your crimes, I’m making you the pillow for my nap.” Loop’s voice was somehow muffled against his cloak despite the lack of mouth… He tried not to think too hard about it.

“L-Loop, you know I still have to get back to the clocktower for dinner.” His hand hovered over them. Was he allowed to hold them? They were literally laying on him, so probably? But should he ask?

Loop’s arms squeezed him to shut up his thoughts (he squeaked again). “When your allies come looking for you, you can wake me.”

“O-okay...” He hesitantly wrapped his arms around them. Their skin prickling against the bare skin on his wrists made him shiver, but they didn’t tell him to let go so he didn’t.

Honestly he hadn’t had a restful sleep in a really long time, so maybe… Maybe napping with Loop would be better. It was worth a shot, right?

He only closed his eye for a minute before he was out like a light. (Ehhh? No? Okay, tough crowd…)

---

Siffrin almost fell out of the tree when he woke up to Bonnie and Isabeau calling for him. Loop, with widened-eyes, had to have a death grip on him to keep him steady, before letting him climb down. Of course, his allies were laughing and poking fun at him for falling asleep in a tree (again apparently, though Siffrin couldn’t remember the last time he’d done so). He actually forgot to grab his hat at first, but it conveniently floated down from the canopy the moment after Odile commented on it. [You’re welcome, Stardust!!!]

He looked back to the tree as he was led away and upon seeing that familiar light in the opening between the branches, he smiled and waved good night.

Siffrin really didn’t expect any of that to happen, how could he? But he couldn’t shake the smile off his cheeks for the rest of the night. Hopefully he could convince Loop to do this again next time. Afterall, they seemed to enjoy it too.

[C’mon, time to focus now, Stardust. It’s showtime! You could always come back during intermission. I’m not going anywhere.~]

He tripped and fell into a tear that loop.

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

(edit: hey that was the end, but i want you to know this fic got fanart! please go check it out, i love it a lot)

[eloiseloves]

consumed by thoughts of post-war Bucky and Buck with a kid.

Perhaps they’re living together, a slow mellow life outside of the city where there’s less people, less questions and they’re slowly recovering from the war together. Then a knock at the door upends their whole world because a lady he doesn’t recognize is standing on their porch, hand-in-hand with a little girl she claims belongs to John. He’s a father to a little girl and he didn’t even know it, barely even knew her mother - just a night spent together in England and now she’s gone and he’s this child’s only option. But it’s not a choice for John, not really, not when his own eyes stare back at him, wide and terrified - a feeling he’s intimately acquainted with. He sees her and loves her instantaneously, knows he would bend over backwards for her, but he panics too, knows he’s wholly unequipped to raise a child.

Buck isn’t home when she arrives, and gets the shock of his life to find John seated on the couch with a small child who definitely wasn’t there he left in the morning. After John tactfully explains (little ears are always listening, John knows this from growing up with sisters) what has happened, it’s not a question for Buck either, though Buck is far more apprehensive about it and doesn’t do a great job of reassuring Bucky. Instead he mutters a rushed “We need things, Bucky.” And turns right around to head for the store.

He leaves abruptly, doesn’t even introduce himself to Bucky’s daughter and forgets to ask her name. Instead, he’s consumed by thoughts of his own father and it sends him into a spiral. He goes to the store but doesn’t know what to buy, so he hits up probably too many stores and buys too many things. What do two year-olds eat? What do they wear? Does she have toys? He thinks he’ll buy her lots of toys, doesn’t want her to feel unloved and unnoticed like he did. Do two-year olds know how to read? Buck doesn’t know. This only serves to panic him more, suddenly aware of how much he doesn’t know. Between that, and what Buck feels is the influence of his own father, he worries all afternoon and evening, but is determined to do right by her. Eventually, when he’s been out on his errands for long enough that the afternoon drifts into evening and then even later, he realizes that he never learned her name and that perhaps his entrance and exit were not well-executed and probably has Bucky losing his mind.

John for his part, is losing it and trying not to let the little girl sat next him know it. He's taken her hand and shown her around the house and the expansive yard, even the horses that Buck bought (which maybe he shouldn't have done - are horses too dangerous for a two-year-old?) and now they're seated back on the couch with Bucky making up stories to entertain her. But he can't stop thinking about Buck. Buck probably spent all of four minutes in the house with them - long enough to learn what happened and then turn right around and head back out the door, barely a word said to John. They’d never talked about children. Why bother? They intended to spend the rest of their lives together but children weren’t on the table between two men. John is keenly, painfully aware that this isn’t what Buck signed up for. He doesn't know what he will do if Buck doesn't want to keep her; he will love Buck endlessly to his dying breath but he loves this tiny thing he now possesses, too.

As the day bleeds into night and Buck still hasn't returns home, his worry crawls back to the forefront. But just as he's thinking of throwing his daughter into the truck to go find Buck, the front door opens and through it spills a mountain of bags, brimming with toys, clothes and food. Beneath it is Buck. Relief melts through him, the likes of which could touch that of their stalag reunion. "Oh, thank God." John says, tone dripping in worry as he unhands the bags from Buck. "You scared the daylights out of me, I thought, I thought you left. I know we haven't talked about..." He trails off, caught off guard by Gale's expression. He looks profoundly lost in way that Bucky has never seen.

"She... she needs toys, John. I didn't have any toys."

John could have cried. Gale was staying, they could tackle this together. He grabs Gale forcefully, drags him into a tight embrace and presses his face into his neck. "We'll love her, okay? She'll be loved. You're not your father. Alright?" He feels Gale nod into his neck. "Why don't you come meet her, huh?"

He drags Gale over to the couch, crouches down in front of her and drags Gale down too, putting them on her level. Gale is struck immediately by her eyes - John's eyes - peering back at him, timid but curious.

"Darling, this is Buck. He's my friend, he's the one who has the horses."

Buck whips his head over to stare at Bucky. "You showed her the horses? Bucky, she's three!"

[69misato69]

Genesis (Zhongli x Diluc) ✦ smut, 5k

archive of our own ✦ twitter ✦ masterlist

established zhongluc that never had sex before, diluc loses his virginity, both amab and cis (he/him pronouns)

cw: blowjobs, unprotected sex, ejaculation, overall heavy sexual themes

writer's note: explicit +18 content, please view at your own risk. thank you, have fun !

Top Zhongli x Bottom Diluc

Diluc turns over the page. He’s eager to find out what happens next, drunk on the story that he finds so captivating, and equally embarrassing. Zhongli also seems intrigued by the book he holds, though it is easy to guess that it’s likely a lot different than the story Diluc currently indulges in. 

What will happen next? The couple finally got together after a heated, heartbreaking break-up. With them ending up at the woman’s house, tipsy and filled with the joy of reunion, naturally they are bound to have some intimate moments. 

Intimate moments that Diluc likes reading about even though he has never experienced it for himself. The most he can relate to is the kissing, which he truly enjoys. Pressing his lips against Zhongli’s, how he always cups Diluc’s face gently. 

The intensity, however, is still far from what he reads about. It can only match what happens before events escalate, and the duration is much longer. They kiss for hours, lazily lying on the bed, sitting at the dinner table, cuddling on the couch. 

But then, nothing happens. 

Either they fall asleep or one of them has to leave, something comes up before Diluc can muster up the courage to attempt more, and he knows Zhongli won’t initiate anything before he does, knowing that Diluc is not only inexperienced but also insecure about many aspects of his body. 

Zhongli cherishes the fact that Diluc feels comfortable enough to open up about his issues and his lack of a sexual history, but to him, the fact that Diluc never aimed for something more is concrete evidence that he isn’t fully comfortable yet.

Zhongli doesn’t really see it as a ‘wait’, considering the possibility that it might never happen, which he is fine with. The things that made him fall in love with Diluc are far from physical reasons, they will always be there, and Zhongli will always feel lucky to exist in the presence of such light and beauty. 

Despite all that, how Diluc slowly wiggles his legs extended onto Zhongli’s lap is a bit suspicious, especially when he fully retracts them and abruptly places the book facing down on the table. 

“Are you alright?” Zhongli asks without looking up from the page. 

Diluc clears his throat, “Yeah.” 

He stands up, heading out of the room.

“Do you want anything?” 

This time Zhongli does look at him, with a soft smile that forms on his lips involuntarily at the sight of Diluc’s baggy shirt, wrinkled pyjama pants and messy hair.

“No. Thank you, dear.” 

Diluc hurries to leave, even faster when faced with Zhongli’s expression. 

He stares at the book Diluc left on the table, still open at where he just left off.

Would it hurt to take a peek? 

Meanwhile, in the bathroom, Master Diluc fights an opponent that is awfully difficult to rival. 

A fire in his belly that should ideally go away, but refuses to do so. He tries to clear his mind of the filth he has just read, but it is a futile attempt. It infects him as much as the feeling of Zhongli’s legs under his own and the smile he just struck at Diluc. 

On the contrary to what Zhongli assumes, Diluc is ready. He feels ready, but being inexperienced at an age such as his undeniably creates an immense amount of pressure, sending him spiraling into a state of anxiety. 

Maybe today is the day he finally leaves it behind. He hopes, for it is getting harder and harder to restrain himself. 

When he makes his way into the living room once again, a loud gasp escapes him. 

Zhongli is leaning forward, holding Diluc’s book in his hand this time. 

“Hey!” he protests, to which Zhongli slowly leaves it back on the table with a gentle thud. 

“Oh, apologies.” 

Diluc stands by him, looking down with arms crossed at his chest and brows slightly furrowed. Zhongli looks up at him innocently, as if he hasn’t just seen the most vulgar and explicit sentences ever written. 

“Were you reading it?” Diluc raises one brow, trying to read his expression but failing to do so. Zhongli leans back again, his back meets the couch as Diluc stands between his parted legs. 

“Just a few paragraphs, yes.” he admits. 

“What do you think?”

Zhongli places one hand on his chin, pausing with a hum before elaborating, “It’s certainly very captivating. A bit unrealistic at times, but I believe that is necessary to an extent while writing erotica. It is someone’s lustful fantasies, after all, so I could overlook that.” 

Seeing how he only speaks on the form and avoids saying anything about Diluc reading this obscenity, the redhead settles next to him. 

He opens his mouth, then closes it again. A few more times, he knows Zhongli is patiently waiting for him to speak up. 

“You know how to do all that, right?” 

Curiosity eventually gets the best of Diluc. 

“How to give a blowjob?”

Zhongli asks so casually, as if it is so inconsequential, as if it isn’t already making Diluc’s cheeks heat up. 

“Yes.” he avoids looking at Zhongli. 

“I believe so.” 

Diluc nods, “Okay.” 

But Zhongli doesn’t pick up his own book again, and neither does Diluc. There’s one more thing he wants to ask, and Zhongli is almost certain that the question is coming even though he is unaware of its content. 

They sit side by side, their outer thighs barely touching, but Zhongli still can feel how warm he is.

“Would you…” 

An almost unnoticeable pause, it’s too late to swallow it now.

“...teach me?”

“Oh?”

Oh. 

Out of all the things he expected, Zhongli certainly hadn't seen this coming. 

“Of course.” he hides his surprise.

Diluc scoots closer to him, which signals to Zhongli that it’s not a plan into the future, Diluc wants to learn now, right here. 

He turns his head to face the redhead, smiling at how close they already are. 

Staring at Zhongli, Diluc always realizes how much he has missed him. Even when they are in the same room, spending most of their days together, reading on the couch with Diluc’s legs over his lap, it doesn’t erase the never-ending yearning from his heart. 

Diluc has heard the term 'honeymoon phase' before, referring to how couples can never get enough of each other during the first few weeks or months of their relationship, and he has waited. Waited for it to go away so his heart could stop sinking whenever Zhongli had to leave his side. 

But it doesn’t. 

Looking at him now, Diluc can’t focus on anything but the urge to press forward, so he does. He closes the gap between their faces, pressing a kiss onto Zhongli’s lips hesitantly. His confidence grows as Zhongli presses back, leaving gentle pecks on Diluc’s lower lip. 

But then, the kiss deepens. Diluc can’t put his finger on it, but he feels his breath go shaky under Zhongli’s lips. It’s different from the comfortable, lax nature of their kisses. Diluc can feel the weight of it, and soon enough, Zhongli’s tongue slowly slithering into his mouth. 

Diluc holds back a gasp and parts his lips, his chest heaves with excitement, unsteady breaths failing to catch up to the surge of adrenaline that roams his veins, until a hand reaches out for his, intertwining their fingers together. 

Zhongli’s palm kisses his as his thumb brushes against the back of his hand soothingly. 

Zhongli is comfort and safety, exuding warmth in a drastically different way from Diluc. 

Diluc finds his own flames destructive, frivolously impulsive at times, ready to devour all in his path, sometimes ripping out beloved things from his heart as well. 

The damage he inflicts is irreversible, unpredictable and dangerous. Bright flames that burn all to ashes and then burn the ashes themselves until there is nothing left. 

Nothing left to bloom, even the soil fried away with unbridled rage. 

Zhongli, on the other hand, his warmth only ever comforts Diluc. Compared to himself, Zhongli is like the sun. His rays shining down on you from afar, too gentle to hurt. He lights up the path, uncovers the unknown, conquers all that one might fear. 

As strong as Diluc’s flames, but instead dissipating in the air, entering all with the intention to nurture, to preserve. Seeping into the deep cracks inside Diluc’s heart, he fills them with love and light, patching up all his wounds and restoring the sparkling pupils of his broken smile. 

Diluc feels so weak against him, but so strong with him. 

He crumbles under Zhongli’s movements, how he holds his face and roams the inside of his mouth with his tongue, tugging at Diluc’s bottom lip with his teeth teasingly. 

When they’re both out of breath, Zhongli pulls away, the two pant into each other’s mouths lustfully as Diluc’s heart thumps on his ribcage. 

Zhongli tangles his fingers in the silky, crimson red locks, “It's important to prepare your partner mentally, first. The body responds faster than the mind when it comes to these matters, at least based on what I have observed.” he explains in an impressively level-headed manner. Diluc doubts that he could put two and two together, let alone speak this eloquently while the strange yet beautiful sensation invades his mind. 

Zhongli’s hand travels down to his neck, then over to his chest and his tummy. Though, with no grip, only fingertips brushing against Diluc’s clothes and eventually stopping at his lower-abdomen. 

“May I touch you?” he asks over a kiss he places right below Diluc’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine. 

Diluc would slaughter an entire Fatui camp on his own for Zhongli to touch him. Well, truth be told, he would also slaughter a Fatui camp for fun. 

He nods, and Zhongli lightly palms over his erection. 

“Please stop me if you feel uncomfortable.” he presses another kiss on Diluc’s lips. He feels more than comfortable, fighting the urge to grind up into Zhongli’s hand as his fingers move over the outline of the thin fabric. 

“You ease into it. Because it feels pretty selfish when someone else is doing all the work. So they should feel that…” Zhongli’s lips hover over his neck, “...you're excited about it as well.”

He leaves a wet trail with his tongue, gently sucking and brushing against the sensitive skin with his teeth. 

“That you don't see it as a chore, and you wish to please them, truly.” Zhongli’s hand finally slips inside his underwear. 

Diluc already feels like he could release at any moment, his jaw clenches, yet a sharp hiss escapes from in between his teeth. Fingers that are cooler against his burning skin, wrapping around his core that desperately, hungrily begs for attention. 

Zhongli slides forward and back, pushing his thumb into the slit, eliciting muffled noises of pleasure between Diluc’s erratic breaths.  

Zhongli perfectly feels how flustered he is, working Diluc out until he’s close and then slowing down purposefully. Compared to his usual self, Diluc is much easier to read now that he squirms and pants under his touch. 

Even with his attempts to silence himself, Zhongli can expertly calculate an ideal course of action. It is a situation he wants to handle as delicately as possible, but with Diluc turning into a sweaty mess with every passing minute, Zhongli doesn’t want to let him go. His heavy-breathing is music to his ears.

He retracts his hand, getting ready to settle between Diluc’s legs as the redhead tugs on his shirt. 

“What’s wrong?” Zhongli kneels down on the floor, looking up at Diluc when what the motion indicates is already clear. 

“Take it off.” 

Diluc immediately regrets speaking up. His voice is so hoarse, so needy, it even cracks a bit towards the end of his sentence, yet he notices the sparks that light up in Zhongli’s eyes. 

He hums, swiftly removing and folding the shirt as Diluc hurriedly tosses his away. 

With a look of confirmation, Zhongli rids Diluc of his pants and underwear as well, leaving him completely naked on the couch with precum dribbling down his tip. 

“You can also lay on top, but I personally find this angle more comfortable. It’s easier to move around since your head isn’t weighing down.” Zhongli continues the class calmly as the vibrations of his voice send a twitch into Diluc’s cock. 

More comfortable. How many times has he done this, Diluc can’t help but wonder. 

“There's no need to rush, take your time and start out slow.” 

With his last piece of advice for the moment, Zhongli leans forward, one hand stroking Diluc’s thigh and the other wrapping around his base. He licks off an incoming drop of precum forming at the slit, swirling his tongue around the tip at an excruciatingly slow pace.

Diluc can’t tell what he feels, a sensation that could easily make him cry if he wanted to. 

Zhongli’s beautiful eyelashes flutter, looking down as Diluc watches him intently. He grips tightly to his seat when Zhongli begins to work his way down, tongue slicking Diluc diligently. 

But just as he expects Zhongli’s lips to close around him, he pulls away. 

“It is pretty sensitive, and your mouth is warm and soft, so as long as you keep your teeth out of the way, it can't be too bad.” he smiles while Diluc shuts his mouth tight to hold back a whine.

“You conceal them with your lips and ideally flatten your tongue, and there should be plenty of space.” he explains and then illustrates the desired shape with his lips. 

“Understood.” Diluc replies, in hopes that it will help him get back to it as swiftly as possible. 

Luckily, Zhongli doesn’t waste another second before entertaining his silent request. 

Soft lips engulf him, inch by inch. Diluc freezes, static as a statue except for his heaving chest and the drops of sweat trickling down from his forehead. 

It feels absolutely heavenly when Zhongli reaches the base, bobbing his head back and forth while attaining a slow rhythm. 

Diluc moans, glued to the seat. He can't peel his eyes away from Zhongli. Diluc wants him to look up, to see his face clearly while his lips are stretched over his cock. Unfortunately, his state isn't quite ideal for speaking. As if he can read Diluc's mind, Zhongli suddenly looks up, pushing himself all the way forward until the tip is captured by the back of his throat, an area so tight that a few drops leak from Diluc as he stops himself mid-orgasm. 

A sharp pain settles on his groin, a groan from Zhongli's lips vibrates around his cock when he finally gets a taste. Diluc's resolve is impressive, but Zhongli is dedicated to break him down. He gags again, this time staying out for longer and swallowing loudly so that his throat contracts around Diluc. 

Too much to handle, especially as Zhongli looks up at him daringly. Diluc's head falls back, gaze now facing upward while he tries to steady his breaths to the best of his ability. 

Zhongli doesn't hold back, choking and gagging, somehow very elegantly, until he pulls away, out of breath with his cheeks flushed, “And of course, take breaks when you get tired.” he advises, one hand wrapping around Diluc’s cock so that he doesn’t suffer from a lack of stimulation. 

Only this time, even his hand is enough to drive Diluc insane, oversensitive and slippery with Zhongli’s saliva. 

“What do you like?” he asks softly. 

Diluc feels his limbs freeze once again, too shy to gaze down at Zhongli so he keeps watching the ceiling trying to understand the question. 

“Anything that stands out?” he rephrases. 

Diluc can’t think of a non-vulgar way to phrase it, and realistically he is enjoying all that Zhongli has been doing up to now. “W—why do you want to know?” he asks abruptly, making Zhongli chuckle. 

“Well, it can serve as a guide, trying things you like on yourself when you're with a partner. You don't have to tell me, of course. But coming up with an answer might help you out as well.” 

Diluc takes a deep breath, neck still resting on the couch. He truly wants to tell Zhongli, solely for having him do more of it, the thing Diluc has taken a liking to almost immediately. He wants to tell Zhongli what it is, to let him know how much it riles him up, to beg for more. 

“I like the thing where you... When it was... deep and you... gulped.” he sloppily gets it off his chest, sounding a lot less distinguished than he originally planned.

Zhongli hums, his warm breath hovers over Diluc as he pushes him all the way back into his throat without a warning. 

“Fuck.” Diluc gasps, incoherent moans and pleas involuntarily leave his mouth while he trembles and fights back the tears of pleasure forming on the corners of his eyes. 

“Keep doing that. Zhongli—I'm gonna—hah…”

It’s his most successful attempt to form a sentence, cut-off again, not because of Zhongli, but because of his own hips spasming intensely as he spills down his throat. Though Diluc can’t see, he can feel the abnormal amount he produces, a heavy load that Zhongli silently drinks up. 

When Diluc is finally done, Zhongli pulls back, leaving gentle, soothing strokes all over his thighs to help him come down, “Was that helpful?” 

Diluc lets out a long, relaxed exhale, gaining composure once again.

“Very much so. My turn, now.” he slides off the couch onto the floor.

Zhongli’s eyebrows raise, in awe of how Diluc wants to go on despite his spent and drained body, “Oh, you're going to... Now?”

“Well, how can I get better without proper practice?”

Zhongli smirks, an eager scholar, he is pleased to find out. 

They switch places, Zhongli’s pants are lowered to his ankles quickly. Diluc places his hands on his thighs and raises to meet his face.

He rubs his cheek on Zhongli’s neck lovingly, like a grateful cat he snuggles over his chest, knees already aching over the hardwood floors. 

Zhongli’s fingers run through his hair as he leaves the crook of his neck to face him.

“I'm not saying this because of what you said earlier but, I really do want to do this. The books are... something I have indulged in ever since I was a teenager, I don't think much of them. But now they… make me think about…” 

Diluc falters. 

“What I mean to say is that I find myself imagining—”

The words stay put in his throat no matter how much he wants to push them out. How he wants to tell Zhongli that all he can think about while reading those novels is him. Usually not the story behind it, as he doesn’t particularly enjoy the tropes, the miscommunication, occasional cheating, the unhealthy dynamics and the fights.

His reality is so much better than those poor characters suffering, but as soon as things get hot and heavy, he can’t help but picture himself under Zhongli, moaning and writhing.  

“Imagining us?”

Zhongli finishes the sentence for him, hoping to put an end to his misery.

Diluc nods, abashed of the thoughts that cross his mind. 

“I'm embarrassed to ask, but… I really want to—learn how to please you.” he settles on the floor fully without looking up, eyes lingering on Zhongli’s lean muscles, his beautiful hands that rest over his thighs. 

Excitement and sudden confidence runs through Diluc’s body, realizing how close he is to touching Zhongli, to tasting him for the first time. 

He looks up, “It’s a book after all, so I can’t hear it but—how would you sound? I would like to hear it.” 

“I would never deprive you of it, my dear.” Zhongli replies sincerely. 

Diluc gulps. He wants to see this man euphoric, wallowing in lust, having the best time of his life. He wants to make Zhongli feel as good as he does him, not right away of course, but over time. 

Diluc wants to find out every little thing that makes his heart skip a beat. 

But, even a journey of a thousand miles starts with a step, so he takes it. Slowly, wrapping his tongue around Zhongli, trying to emulate it the way he did. 

Seeing how hard he is helps Diluc build more confidence. Zhongli almost fully erect just from sucking him off, an enticing sight. 

After a few, long drags with his tongue, he envelopes Zhongli within his lips, moving down carefully not to hurt him. He tries to go off of what he knows, even though he has no experience with this, Diluc masturbates occasionally. Not so frequently when they are together, but a slightly concerning amount when Zhongli is away. 

Despite being very intelligent, Master Diluc fails to notice the pattern.

What he knows for sure is the existence of a few sensitive spots that drive him insane, so he tries to simulate the movements of his hand with his tongue, sucking on experimentally at those areas, until he hears a grunt. 

He stops, then laps his tongue over Zhongli’s base again to receive a similar reaction.

An experiment.

To see if it was an accidental noise, yet it arises again.

Diluc looks up, he gazes deep into Zhongli’s eyes and repeats the motion one more time. 

His eyebrows, even if it’s for a split second, create a desperate look of pleasure before settling into their original places. 

Delicious, something so miniscule but enough to make Diluc grin mischievously.

He continues, generously abusing the weakness he has stumbled upon.

The side of the couch squeaks, Diluc doesn’t need to take a look to know that it’s Zhongli’s fingers squeezing the fabric tightly. 

He now feels more confident about taking him in even though he struggles to go all the way, but watching how Zhongli’s amber pupils light up motivates him. 

Until Zhongli tenses up with a sudden hiss, “Teeth, Diluc.” 

He pulls back anxiously, noticing how he was slipping up.

“I’m sorry.” 

Zhongli cups his face as the sharp, momentary sting vanishes, “It’s okay. It’s a bit hard to adjust.” he coos, “You’re doing great. Are you tired?”

“No. Can I go on?”

Zhongli smiles, who is he to say no when Diluc asks with that flustered expression?

“Of course, I’m all yours.” 

All his. 

Diluc wants to feel it in a different way tonight. He yearns for Zhongli to claim him, to hold him close and utter his name in lust. 

It encourages him even more, so he slides forward until the tip of his cock reaches the back of his throat. 

Zhongli gasps, caught off guard since it isn’t the most beginner-friendly technique. It is a bit sloppy, how he fails to close his mouth properly due to the intrusion, but it is such a tight space that Zhongli can’t help but groan. 

Diluc repeats the motion a few more times, continuing regardless of the gagging and choking he has to suffer through. Primarily because he finds the feeling of fullness a lot more enjoyable than he anticipated, and also because he doesn’t want to stop drinking up the sweet sounds that spill from Zhongli’s lips. 

Diluc reaches for his hand, dropping it at his hair as Zhongli latches on. His movements are a bit weaker, turning slapdash as he gets more tired. Zhongli takes over, seeing that he wants to continue but is too exhausted to do so.

He slides Diluc’s head back and forth, impaling his throat with every thrust as their moans fill the room. Though, when Zhongli feels close, he pulls the redhead away. Even if he’s doing alright so far, the taste is less than pleasant.

Diluc doesn’t protest. He watches, mesmerized as Zhongli gives himself a few harsh tugs and releases down Diluc’s chest. The rush is unmatched, hearing low grunts and watching Zhongli shut his eyes tightly as warm liquid drips down Diluc’s skin. 

Both out of breath, they spare a few moments to calm down before Zhongli leans forward to clean him up with his shirt. 

He holds Diluc by the neck, pressing a loving kiss on the top of his head as Diluc holds onto his wrist. He raises his face up to Zhongli, longing for their lips to touch with an unchaste gaze. 

But they don’t until Diluc slowly climbs up to his lap, sinking with a sigh as his own saliva wets his thighs. Zhongli’s arms wrap around his waist, admiring his beauty, kissing at his blushing cheeks and pulling him even closer. 

Diluc sloppily traces his lips with his tongue, pushing it into Zhongli’s mouth zealously. 

His body trembles and melts under Zhongli’s touch even when he’s barely doing anything. 

One of his hands trails down, brushing lightly against his entrance. 

Diluc breaks away from the kiss with a laugh, ticklish at the smooth touch. Zhongli smiles, the sound of his laughter that he absolutely adores. He’s the only person granted the opportunity to hear it everyday, and he holds that blessing near and dear to his heart. 

Zhongli adjusts his grip, pressing a finger more firmly against his hole, careful not to tickle him, “Better?” 

Diluc hums, eager to have him inside. And when Zhongli finally pushes in, a sensation Diluc only knows from his own fingers, turns into something that makes his entire body jolt instantly. The silly smirk lingering on his face leaves its place to eyes veiled with desire. 

“Beautiful.” Zhongli coos, retracting his hand and pushing forward again. 

“Zhongli…” Diluc wavers, its intoxicating, lighting a spark of greed in his lower belly.

“You are.” Zhongli holds him in place by the waist, “The prettiest one I have ever laid my eyes on. Inside and out.”

He adds another finger, seeing how Diluc is already grinding down at his hand, “I am truly lucky.” 

Diluc buries his head in Zhongli’s neck, inhaling the sweet, oaky scent, allowing his fingers to stretch him out.

He loves Zhongli, and he loves being loved by Zhongli. For once in his life, Diluc feels deserving of someone’s affection. 

“I love you.” he breathes out. 

This time, his declaration is feral, not only from the heart but also from between his legs, kissing up at the man that overwhelms him with pleasure, whispering in his ear how much he needs him. 

Zhongli pulls his fingers out, jerking himself a few times before lifting Diluc’s hips and lining up under his quivering hole. 

Diluc hisses at the intrusion, eyes widening at the girth as he second-guesses whether he can take it all in. His muscles tense up, it gets gradually harder for Zhongli to work his way through. 

“Breathe.” he brushes the sweaty red strands away from Diluc’s face, “We’ll stop if it’s too much.” 

Diluc submits, clearing his head, taking a deep breath and releasing the strain on his lower body. Eventually, he feels himself become more spacious, allowing more to slide inside with ease. Soon the pain vanishes, leaving only waves of pleasure that ripple through his body. 

Sounds and expressions that Zhongli only recognizes from the battlefield, only when Diluc is consumed, but now without his brows furrowed with rage. A complete lack of fury and an abundance of passion, a rare occurrence for Master Diluc. 

Zhongli pushes him all the way down, brushing against his prostate experimentally, but Diluc remains undisturbed. He growls for more, now assisting the movements with his hips as well. 

Zhongli leaves kisses on his chin, happy to notice a look of pride on Diluc’s face, "Knowing what a rebellious spirit you are, should I be flattered that you're so obedient with me?" he jests, voice so raspy that it makes Diluc’s insides squirm. 

"Simply because you have more experience in the field." 

Diluc feels his hips get raised again, but the plunge he anticipates doesn’t follow. Zhongli tilts his head slightly to the side, keeping only the tip inside. 

"Ah. So when you're well-versed, you'll be ordering me around?" he brushes his nose against Diluc’s as the redhead cups his face.

"Would you like that?"

"Oh, absolutely. Command suits you, my love." 

Zhongli’s eyes darken, a bright light flashes across his pupils when Diluc attempts to wiggle his hips down. 

"Then you should teach me well." he hisses, prayers answered in a more aggressive manner than expected when Zhongli harshly slams him down, tip digging into his prostate viciously. 

Diluc’s eyes widen, a shrill cry at the pleasure and pain and the brutal stretch as Zhongli splits him open. 

"Good enough?" he licks at Diluc’s parted lips. 

Diluc’s heart drops all the way down to his stomach, his limp body collapses onto Zhongli, yet he holds on tight.

“Keep… going…” he whimpers, allowing Zhongli to fuck him senselessly while his own bodyweight further facilitates the intensity of his deep thrusts. 

Zhongli holds him close, proud of his beloved for handling it so well. So tight for him, inviting and warm. Daring and cheeky. Shy. All facets of Diluc he witnesses during daily life, packed into one moment. 

“I’m glad to be your first.” Zhongli can’t help but remark. 

It’s a sentence he never expected to utter, considering how the concept of virginity matters so little to him compared to mortals. But it is important to Diluc, being able to open himself up, lucky enough for it to be with a person who has cherished him deeply for years, someone who has never passed down judgment on him even during his darkest hours. 

Seeing Diluc comfortable and content, Zhongli would sacrifice his all for such a noble goal. 

Diluc wants him to be the second and the third, the hundredth and the thousandth. He wants all of Zhongli, and he wants nothing but him. No one else wrapping their arms around him, no one else running their fingers through his hair. 

“Be my last, Zhongli. Promise me.” 

He watches a glossy layer set over Zhongli’s eyes before warmth overtakes them both. 

“I promise.” 

[cybrpwup]

ɪ’ʟʟ ᴡᴀʟᴋ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ || ʟᴀʀʀʏ ᴄʀᴏꜰᴛ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ - ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ

Larry x f!reader !

content warnings; Implications of an Abusive Relationship summary; Larry hears noise coming from Sammy & Y/N’s apartment; he investigates. Requested?; No !

Blue = flashback

Afternoon sun seeped in between where the window curtains in his bedroom met, creating a diagonal slash of light across Larry’s face. Eyes closed; light brown eyelashes rested softly on even softer cheeks. Their natural blush toned down in his unconsciousness. Lips relaxed to be parted the tiniest amount, enough to let out small mewls as he slept: more like purring than snoring.

He appeared delicate enough to break with a single glance. Peaceful. Calm. Unproblematic. Unlike when he was awake.

Clattering of cookware and the smell of burnt are both unpleasant things to wake up to. Combine the two, add muttered cursing in his flatmate’s distinct voice, and that would be Larry’s alarm clock.

Ten hours of dead sleep ended abruptly at a SLAM of a kitchen drawer followed with the metal clash of pans and the refrigerator door being opened and shut repeatedly. It was odd. Tanner was usually a quiet presence to have around. Often loud-mouthed but always light on his feet.

Larry groaned and squeezed his eyes tighter, but he was not able to ignore the noise. Rolling twice over, he moved to one side of the bed and dragged himself out from under his duvet. Retying the strings on his pajama bottoms – which had slipped to be sitting precariously on his hips – he scanned his room. Deciding to load his arms up with food wrappers and half-full glasses before leaving.

“Morning,” Tanner called over his shoulder as he pushed a spatula around in a pan in short panic-fueled movements. A light smoke spiraled up into his face.

“Is it?”

“Close enough.” He moved the pan off the stovetop. “Almost half past one.”  

Flipping the glasses in his arms upside down and loading them into the dishwasher, Larry smiled to himself. Knowing whatever it was his roommate was making – he would end up eating. It was not that either of them were terrible cooks just that both were impatient and set temperatures higher than should be or was recommended. To be fair, things did come out faster but also often simultaneously burnt in parts and still raw in others.

“Nick wants to know if you wanna be in a video.” Tanner piped up as he pushed his concoction from the pan onto a plate – an identical one next to it.

Larry closed the dishwasher and put the food wrappers in the kitchen bin. He took a bar seat and watched Tanner finish up. “Yeah, sure.”

Tanner slid the spatula and pan he used to cook, into the waiting water of the plugged sink. Taking a plate up in each hand, he moved to take a bar seat and placed in front of Larry a very crispy looking omelet. It was cheese and ham and mushroom.

“Thanks,” Larry mumbled around the fork already shoveling food into his mouth.

It was quiet for a few minutes as both men ate at their respective speeds: Tanner with small quick bites and Larry with large, almost inhuman bites he did not necessarily chew before swallowing.

Omelets were eaten. Plates were cleared and cleaned. It came time for both to go return to their separate sides of the apartment into their separate lives and separate understandings. Larry reached for the handle on his bedroom door.

—

Larry flopped himself onto his bed and started to scroll through his photos with the group. There was not much choice, so he took the least blurry one and posted it to twitter – with a bright filter and a sarcastic caption that took him longer to come up with than he would have liked.

Fifty minutes he spent scrolling through twitter, occasionally checking back to watch the likes on his photo go up and to reply to some of the first commenters. It was mind-numbing in the good and proper sense.

Until he saw it – and it was not his fault, he just happened upon it – and it sent his thoughts into hyperdrive.

A post. A photo. Y/N sitting on her sofa in the dark with the one light source (presumably her television) from behind the camera casting a blue light across her face. One hand clutching the blanket in her lap as the other hand was held up. Jewel-like eyes peering through her fingers and connecting with the camera. A smile playing purposefully on her lips.

If Larry’s thoughts at that moment were put into a blender, they might still have come out making more sense than they did in his head. Eyes. Lips. Blue. Watching? Angelic. Eyes. Fingers. Dancing. Blue. Lips. Taste. Lips. Soft. Photographer. Photographer.

Before he might ask for the app to load more photos, Larry's burst of energy and hectic but classic over-thinking was interrupted. From above him came the sound of muffled shouting. He held his breath, stilled as if a prey animal not wanting to be spotted, and focused an ear to the noise.

There were no words he could pick out, but from what he could tell – or from the details he filled in – it was not a light argument of few words but something that might supersede a genuine scrap.

And it was coming from Y/N's apartment.

As he listened, his imagination wandered. Larry visualized himself, rushing to Y/N's aid and wrapping his thin arms around her in more emotional comfort than physical protection. He saw her turn to him with wet eyes and a red nose before burying her face into his shirt.

It would be uncomfortable – as it is to be around distressed people.

Yet it would be comfortable – as she would fit against him so well.

Again, his imagination wandered. Larry visualized himself as the one shouting at Y/N and growing angrier as she refused his hard-hitting gaze. He saw her turn to him with wet eyes and a red nose before hiccupping out a sob and dashing from the room.

No. That was not right. It was wrong.

He would not— could not do that.

Jolting from the grasps of his own vivid imagination, Larry was sickened with the twisted scene and shocked with himself for conjuring it. What am I doing? He looked to his phone – to the photos, he poured over moments before and recoiled at his actions. He closed twitter and shifted around on the bed: embarrassed to be listening as the shouting from above continued.

He needed an excuse to leave his bedroom, or else he might start thinking again – about it – about her. He did not want to start thinking; he had switched off his feelings and did not want them back.

From above him came the familiar sound of muffled shouting followed with a new sound – the shattering of glass. It was loud enough to hear over his music. Larry pulled his earbuds out and laid still, cocking his head a tad, as he listened.

All couples fight. Larry knew that. First of all, because he was not an idiot. Second of all, because he had gotten into it with all his past partners at some time or another. Now he also knew he was not an aggressive person nor intimidating in most situations. But he had gotten rather angry before – pulsing neck vein kind of angry.

He had shouted and been met with stunned quiet.

He had shouted and been met with shouts of equal anger.

It was never pleasant. It solved nothing, and he regretted it after.

Muffled shouting remained indistinct but grew in volume. Larry closed his eyes tighter; he was weak in the stomach like he was going to be sick and felt lighter like he had been bloodletting. His breathing picked up. He tried to ignore it – the shouting. With rattling hands, he put his earbuds back in and practiced some of that self-talk.

All couples fight. It is normal.

There is nothing to be anxious about.

I am not there. It does not involve me.

There was a second shattering sound from above. An army of nightmare scenarios invaded his head.

He did not know what was happening.

He did not know what was happening and it. was. killing. him.

What if I did nothing and Y/N’s in genuine trouble?

Larry took to his feet in a flash. Slipping his phone in his pocket and snatching his keys off his desk, he stormed out of the bedroom like he was escaping a fire.

“Larry,, where are you going?” Tanner dropped what he was doing, jumped to stand, and near hurdled over the sofa in a race to reach the front door first. In a stern command, he called, “Stop.”

But the younger was not listening. Larry had his hand on the door handle, pulling it open just ten centimetres when Tanner appeared to the side of him and closed it with one hand, trapping him inside.

“Let me go.” He pulled the handle, gaining no more leverage.

“Not until you tell me where you’re going.”

“I—” It was apparent he wanted to get the words out, but before another distorted syllable could be spoken, Larry stopped and turned his eyes up to the ceiling: to the muffled shouting.

Rigid in stance, Tanner scrunched up his forehead; he did not move his gaze from Larry. “No. You have to let it be. You have to—just, don’t get involved.”

After dropping his focus to the floor, and looking to his feet for a short second, Larry pulled his eyes back up – pathetic and pleading. Desperate for something but trapping all possible answers inside. Opening his mouth and closing it again, he appeared liable to spring a leak or deflate entirely. “Please.”

Tanner complied. He removed his hand from the door.

And Larry left the room.

He was the same person in the same hall he had been in a thousand times. Yet. It was different that time. Familiar but wrong – spoiled – a rip-off version of a beloved video game.

Might have been the lights were about dead and not shining as bright. Or the carpeting had not been hoovered recently and was stiffer under his shoes. Or some decoration had been removed from the walls, something large enough that his peripheral recognized it as being absent.

Might have been, but Larry could not be sure.

Weaving around the crumbling blockades of rationality and through the ripped recklessness filter, a spark carrying a thought completed the obstacle course from stem to the front of his brain: You’re not a fighter.

Even if Larry walked straight into Sammy and Y/N battling it out on the floor above, what was he expecting himself to do?

Could he even act logically in such a situation?

When just the thought of it had riled him up so terribly?

Each step Larry walked, the stale air expanded further beyond the physical limits of the hall. Goose pimples bubbled up on the skin of his arms. His own footfalls sounded distant behind his breathless breathing and the ring in his ears.

At reaching the lift doors, the feeling of suffocation broke to little relief. Not broke like a fever, with the hope of good health ahead, broke like snapping a pen in half, leaving it useless. Surely, he would be useless.

His index finger smashed against the call button; the sliding doors opened. Anxious fires died down while worried coals remained warm and present. He needed to know what was happening – not with himself – that was a question he could not answer. But with Y/N. Lovely, Y/N.

DING. Larry cleared the doors and took the hall above his own in quick strides until he stopped outside Sammy and Y/N’s apartment.

Shouts could be heard from behind the door, first from Sammy, “You never remember any of the good things I do!”

Y/N interjected, “I—”

“No. I’m talking. You’re such a depressive bitch to be around – everybody agrees. Oh, go on. Get all teary-eyed. Can’t you see how manipulative that is? Where are you go—? Y/n!”

Larry raised his fist to knock when the handle jumped, and the door was thrown open. Startled, he stood stock-still as Y/N harshly shoulder-checked him. She fled up the hall – opposite the lift – to the door for the stairwell.

Nothing in her hands.

Not even wearing shoes.

“Larry? What are you doing here?” Sammy stepped forward from his hidden spot inside the apartment and into view; his frame took up almost the entire doorway. A reserved but friendly smile stretched across his mouth. His cheeks were not flushed red with heat, and there was not a speck of hostility in his stare.

Neither acting nor looking like he had just been screaming. As if he had flipped a switch, the second Y/N was out of sight; shifted into a new skin entirely.

“Um—I,” Larry babbled as he dragged his focus from the door Y/N had disappeared behind. “I—there was a crash. It was loud, and Tanner thought I better check-up on you two, make sure everyone’s ok.”

Putting his hand on the smaller man’s shoulder, Sammy jostled him a touch. “No worries. That’s actually really cool – very thoughtful. Yeah, when Y/n gets agitated, things can get out of hand fast.”

“Tanner and I, we’ve gotten a good number of noise complaints before, and we’re still here. But I’ll be honest. Keep going like that, and the eviction notice will be slid under your door tomorrow.”

“Good looking out. We got security called on us yesterday. Poor guy had to practically tear Y/n off of me.” Sammy held his hands out and curled his finger in a representation of cat claws. “I don’t expect there to be much noise going forward. She’ll calm down. Best to just leave her alone for a bit.”

Larry was decidedly not going to do that. “I could talk to her.”

“I wouldn’t bother, but I won’t stop you.” Sammy’s face brightened. “Actually. You know what? That might not be a bad idea. Less chance of her causing a scene if she’s with someone. And your type is well good at handling women and the emotional stuff, aren’t you?”

“My type?”

“Oh?” Sammy raised his head. “You’re gay?”

Tanner started, “Well, he’s bi—”

“Yeah.” Larry cut him off. Sometimes it was easier to just be “gay” than to get specific with someone who might not understand or even accept further explanation.

Sammy breathed out an, “Oh.”

“Is that an issue?”

“It’s a relief! Don’t have to be worried about you trying to chat up Y/n.”

“Oh!” Larry forced a smile, “My type right. I got yous.”

“That’ll be perfect. Much better to have you giving Y/n advice than—well, just remind her that you’ve known me long enough to know I’m a good guy and stuff.” Sammy stepped back and wrapped his hand around the door to close it. “Maybe, tell her I’m sorry or something.”

“Got it.” Larry turned and walked up the hall to the stairwell door. He heard Y/N’s whimpers and then jogged up one flight of stairs and found her.

Y/N sat on the edge of the landing with her bare feet planted on the step below. Crying quietly, despite stairwell echo, as she held a hand over her mouth in a bid to suppress each hiccup and each broken noise. Her her head hung low.

Others might have described her as a portrait of lost strength after holding out for so long: a tragedy-struck Venus: an inspirational and poetic muse. Larry would not. He saw nothing analogous to artwork.

Y/N was not a subject to be romanticized in her lowest moments.

She was not a canvas, painted pale with a couple of blue-tinted tears.

She was a person, shuddering while red blotches bloomed across her skin.

“Hey, Y/n. I—uh…heard what happened, and I’m sorry for following you, but I was worried.” His heart gushed with empathy or sympathy – if he had ever bothered to learn the difference, maybe he could tell.

All Larry knew was his core ached with physical pain when he looked at her.

There was no reaction to his words nor his presence. Y/N did not lift her head; Larry ducked to see if he could perhaps catch her eyes, but they were screwed shut. Tears carved rivers down her cheeks. The hand over her mouth remained and was accompanied by her other hand as her sobs reached a new peak. It did not seem she would be speaking anytime soon.

And what was Larry supposed to do? He could not force her to want him there, so he reluctantly turned around and started back down the stairs. While he walked, a voice broke the silence in his head: Y/N’s emotional state and relationship issues are not your responsibility. It is not your job to help pick her up.

True. It was not Larry’s job to be there, and that was reason enough for him to leave without guilt. He was not responsible for her, and that should have stopped him from thinking about it again.

It would have stopped him if he had not lived the life he had.

If he had not known how frustrating – how debilitating it was to feel so helpless. To need others so desperately while also unable to ask for that help.

Leaning on the push bar of the stairwell door two floors down, opening it to his hall, he could see the door to his apartment, and where he knew Tanner would be anxiously waiting for him.

Larry traced his gumline with his tongue. What am I doing?

Spinning around, he took the stairs two at a time back up to Y/N.

True. It was not his job to be there. Larry wanted to be there.

Even if Y/N was not in a position to understand that.

Returning to the landing, he stopped for a breath, unsure how to approach the crying woman, just watching her for a short moment. He sat beside her and planted his feet on the step below. A pair of shoes set next to a pair of bare feet.

When his bottom touched the floor, he felt the full weight of Y/N pushing on him. Her sobbing renewed as her arms wrapped around his neck, and her hands found the back of his shirt with clinging grasps. Larry wrapped his arms around her. Y/N brought her legs in closer and practically pulled herself into his lap.

From how limp and pliable Y/N was as she spilled over him, it was clear there was no anger behind her tears. No rage. No thought that she might start shouting obscenities or stomping her feet. Nothing like that. These were cries of exhaustion. But how she clung onto Larry like she was trying to ground herself, like he was the one real thing in her world at that moment, made him think there was more to it. How she had pacified herself with her hands earlier and how she buried her face in Larry’s chest to similar results. Y/N was frightened. Scared.

Tears formed wet spots on his shirt. Larry tried to keep himself as stable as possible, and he was, for the most part, considering how the woman he held shook like a coke-addicted pomeranian. It was not as uncomfortable as he might have thought. There was no talking, shushing, or humming. Larry and Y/N just sat in their relative quiet for however long it took.

Eventually, the hiccupping slowed.

Stopped. Then it was just them and the quiet.

Larry asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

Y/N’s limbs stiffened, and Larry relaxed his hold to allow her to untangle herself from him; she did. Pulling back, she swung her legs and situated herself to be sitting perpendicular to him. Her puffy, wet eyes hesitantly met his dry ones.

“Is it normal? For couples to fight like us?” Y/N asked somehow able to keep eye contact as she did but not able to raise her voice much above a whisper. “For him to throw things?”

“No.”

“Oh. I’m sorry you had to—”

“You don’t have to apologize. It was scary.” He assumed as he ventured to place his hand lightly on her knee. “If you ever want to talk to someone, I’m here. Whenever you want to drop in, just do it. Seriously. I got lots of free time; I’m basically unemployed.”

“Thank you.” Giggling, Y/N wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks and dropped her hand to her knee – curling her fingers around his hand; she gave a small squeeze. “You’re sweet.”

“You’ve said that before.”

“Have I? Huh. It must be true then.” The words were barely out her mouth when she dropped her newfound smile entirely, and her brows furrowed in seriousness. “I should—it’s time I head back.”

Larry bit his lip, wanting to protest, wanting to scream and shout, but knowing he could not risk starting an argument with her – not now, not about this. “Ok. I’ll walk with you.”

[goldenfox3]

(WIP...? Unfinished snippet?) Time traveller Rob gets dangerous aka I was gonna sleep early but divine inspiration hit me at ass o'clock as usual and I scrambled to write this down before it left me.

I hestitate to call this part of Möbius verse because I originally had a scene envisioned where Rob purposely gets himself sent on the fateful Zoda mission and blown up instead of the Summers because he is, in his mind, "less important to the timeline" (only to wake up to both Summers crying on him in his hospital bed). However, the idea of a darker Stewart would not leave me—what would entice such an upstanding man to become more ruthless? What else, if not love and the pursuit of good? Taking a page from Hold Me Like a Grudge Rob's book, here is that what-if.

~

Zoda is…a large part of the timeline, as reprehensible as Robert finds it. As much as his life was manipulated from the start to be part of it. Acting against him means spiralling off into the great unknown, the vast oceans of unpredictability where even greater dangers could lurk.

What happens is this: Robert is, this time, assigned to a certain fateful mission. He follows along behind the Summers, where he belongs. Where he’s always belonged. There’s a shootout, which Robert holds his own in.

Then Zoda steps out with the rocket launcher, aimed straight at Robert’s entire world. His Summers.

What happens is this: white-hot fury, cold flames devouring all sense and reason. What happens is the unwavering hands of a surgeon discarding his gun for another. Robert may specialise in robotics, but he’s also a chemist, a biologist. A scientist in every sense of the word. He knows exactly how to bring a body back from the brink of death or to send it there in an instant if he chooses.

What happens is this: Robert aims his gun armed with degenerative serum and fires. And fires. And fires.

People often scream when they’re in pain. It’s something Robert’s heard many times as a surgeon. It’s something he imagines is unsettling to others who don’t have the background he does. He must have grown numb to it, because the sound of Zoda shrieking as his flesh and bones dissolve into ashes does nothing but bring about a grim satisfaction.

“No one,” he starts, silken steel in the ringing silence, “no one gets to hurt what’s mine.”

Cleanup is easy, after that. The rest of the crooks either hightail it double time or have lost their nerve enough that they’re easy to subdue. Robert tucks his guns back into their holsters, checks that his knife is still attached, and looks up to find Andy standing in front of him with a stricken expression. Jody hangs back behind her brother like she hasn’t since she was a child.

“Doctor,” Andy chokes out.

The frigid flames blazing within him die out abruptly, replaced by all-too-familiar churn of guilt. Not for killing Zoda, though he’ll doubtless have to deal with far too many consequences. For letting the Summer siblings see that side of him. For making them watch as he murdered someone in the worst way possible. For claiming to do it for their sake. As if he hadn’t done it for his own selfish heart.

[asykriel]

Love is the Death of Duty - 3.

® do not repost or translate !

☆ Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Male! Targaryen OC

☆ Status: Ongoing 

☆ Summary:  

“He is half of my heart.”

War made monsters of them all, but it also brought the two second sons together in a flurry of death, love, deceit and delusion. The story of Aemond Targaryen and the eldest son of Daemon and Rhaenyra, Maegor Targaryen, second of his name. 

☆ Warnings: Sexual content, explicit violence, dark themes, targcest etc.

☆ AO3 ☆ || ☆ Wattpad ☆

☆ CHAPTERS: (Prologue) / ( 1 ) / ( 2 ) / ( 3 ) / ( 4 ) / ( 5 ) / ( 6 ) / ( 7 ) / ( 8 ) / ( 9 ) / ( 10 ) / ( 11 ) / ( 12 ) / ( 13 ) / ( 14 ) / ( 15 ) / (16 from now on upcoming chaps only on-  AO3  ||  Wattpad  )

☆ Masterlist ☆ ||  ☆ Spotify Playlist ☆

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Chapter 3

Evening found Maegor pacing impatiently in circles around the guest chamber he shares with his older half brother, Jacaerys. Half a day passed since the events that unfolded took place and he could not still himself. If anything he felt even more nervous if that could even be possible. 

Half a day since he killed a man.

Half a day since Aemond caught him in a vice grip with no words or touch.

To make matters worse and add more wood to his raging fire, King Viserys was feeling slightly better - albeit aided by milk of the poppy - and he had announced a large supper with just the two families together.

"Why are you pacing like a caged beast, brother? Has taking a life frightened you so much?" Jacaerys questions, amused from the chaise lounge he was sprawled on. Clearly the eldest in a mood to play jests to ease his boredom. 

Maegor stops abruptly, fists clenched. Something dark flashes before his eyes but he does not yield to it. 

Smug bastard. 

"That may be it indeed, half-brother." Maegor retorts and his glare alone is enough to make Jace forget about picking on him and divert his attention on something else. Now that they were grown up his brothers grew weary of his hot temper. Maegor was quick to take offense and react much like his father.

I did everything while you hid behind mother.

 At least Lucerys was with Joffrey otherwise he was sure he would not hear the end of it by dinner time. 

No one should know what truly made him so restless, so angry and riled up. Maegor could bear with a few more childish jests from his brothers. He could even bear with them poking him constantly. Saying that he was afraid when he made his first kill because he was shaking like a leaf. Because he was so restless he could not resist sitting still longer than a moment. 

The fact that he was burning because of Aemond however, that was his secret. Their secret.

Maegor resumes pacing, more furiously this time just to keep his mind distracted from spiraling into thoughts about the Prince again. Eyes on his feet he was counting his steps in silence like a mantra. 

A heavy knock stops him again before the large wooden door is opened.

"My Princes you are awaited for dinner as per by request of their majesties the King and Queen." Ser Criston Cole enters to deliver the announcement. Maegor scowls at him but is the first to leave the chambers much to his elder brother's surprise who remains behind, escorted by the knight.

He was as eager for the supper as he was dreading it. Half of him hoped Aemond wouldn't attend and half was dying to see the Prince again. Dying to talk with him and just bask in his presence.

In the hall where the feast is held the gods curse and gift him at the same time. Maegor is seated at the head of the table next to Aemond right across Lucerys and Rhaena. One second son next to the other. Someone was either playing jokes or aiding him, he could not tell. 

Maegor could not help but steal glances from Aemond and when no one else was paying attention he was staring at him shamelessly in front of everyone. 

The One Eyed Prince looks at him once, glancing at him briefly while the main attention was on Viserys entering the hall on a seat carried by several of his guards. Everyone seated at the table stands for the King who keeps his dignity despite his sickness and grunts of agony. Maegor's throat went bone dry but brazenly he maintains the eye contact.

Then Aemond turns away. But he doesn't. He keeps his eyes on the Prince's side profile while the rest of his family is seated back. Maegor shifts in his chair, keeping a proper posture while he observes the rest of the people at the table with a fleeting glance. Most of them either purposely avoid his eyes or they are too engaged in other matters to notice. He does not mind, he only craved the interest of a sole person in this room and he was going to get it.

Maegor meets the eyes of his half brothers and scowls. Jacaerys and Lucerys exchange several lines that he can't hear from his side of his table and then they start quietly chuckling together. They were never going to grow up.

Shameless brats.

Maegor doesn't feel like wasting his energy tonight entertaining the jests of his childish brothers when the source of his burning pyre was seated next to him. He can understand why his mother was sheltering them when the majority of lords and ladies in the Kingdom knew they were bastards. Some wanted them dead, they were dining in this moment with several of those people. As their brother it was one of his duties as well to protect them even with all their fooling around. 

However, tonight duty could wait. Aemond was his most pressing matter and Maegor needed to continue what they silently started in the throne room. He desired Aemond's attention like that on him again. 

Unfortunately, patience never numbered among Maegor's virtues but he kept his facade as best as he could, feigning interest in all the dishes that were brought on the table but not touching any of them. Food was not what he was hungry for.

 Pretending to close his eyes soberly when the Queen held her prayer for Vaemond Velaryon and his guard when in reality he was relieving the rush of the kill and Aemond's expression full of fervor and desire was replaying on and on in his head. 

His father, Daemon in particular seemed to be the most amused during the prayer, not even trying to fake the mildest guilt like he was doing.

 Maegor gripped the edge of the table, eyes still closed and sighed louder than he intended to still himself. He almost forgot that the real Aemond was right next to him. The Prince gave him a curious look but remained silent, choosing to observe his silverhaired nephew instead of speaking to him.

"This is an occasion for celebration it seems. My grandsons, Jace and Luke will marry their cousins Baela and Rhaena further strengthening the bond between our houses." the King announces, his voice slightly faltering in clear pain. 

Maegor opens his eyes only when he hears the commotion of toasts pouring for his half brothers, as they are congratulated on their engagements. He feigns interest again, raises a glass in their honor and fakes the ghost of a smile. However, he doesn't feign interests when Aemond begins to steal glances instead. His skin is starting to feel tingly.

"Well done Jace, you finally get to lie with a woman. You do know how the act is done, I assume?" Aegon leans over and whispers in his ears, louder than he probably intended as it reaches to both him and Aemond but neither pay any mind to him. One thing never changed from six years ago - Aegon was still a fool and a drunkard.

"Let us toast as well Prince Lucerys... the future Lord of the Tides." Viserys continues and Luke awkwardly fakes a smile. 

Aemond shifts in his chair - barely noticeable - but Maegor immediately sees the change in his demeanor when the Prince stares down Lucerys. Something dark flashes behind that violet eye but Aemond tries to mask it with a sip of wine from his glass. 

Maegor need not guess what was causing his displeasure. Luke was the one who took out his eye and right now he was being put on a pedestal in front of him. He contemplated starting a conversation with Aemond and offer some kind of distraction but decided otherwise when Viserys staggered and stood up from his chair drawing all attention to him.

"It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table. The faces most dear to me in the world yet grown so distant from each other in the years past." The King removes the golden mask, revealing his grotesque face, his flesh eaten all the way to the bone. Everyone's eyes are set on him except for Aemond's who avoids looking at his feeble father.

"Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided." Viserys hits his cane on the floor.

"Set aside your grievances if not for the sake of the crown then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly." The cane thuds louder before the King slumps back in his chair, exhausted. 

Rhaenyra followed, standing and raising her cup to the Queen, extending a peace offering to which Alicent returns it half heartedly. 

Maegor observes everyone with mild interest before he returns to his main interest. He could feel Aemond's uneasiness. It was faint but Daemon trained his perception not just his swordmanship so he managed to pick apart the signs. Maegor's tongue was itching to just tell him something. Anything.

He is successfully interrupted again when Aegon suddenly comes between him and Aemond and hooks an arm around his shoulder, leaning into Maegor's ear.

"What about my favorite nephew? Where is your betrothed? Surely by now you have women throwing themselves at your feet." Maegor clicks his tongue in annoyance but does not engage in Aegon's antagonizing. He shouldn't waste energy on fools.

"Unlike your elder brother I'm certain you know all about how the deed is done." Aegon pressed on, patting Maegor over his back. Aemond sighs in annoyance and shifts further away in his chair to put some distance between him and his elder brother.

"Or maybe you prefer men instead? That's fine too, no shame in that. Just ask Aemond, I personally took him to an establishment when he was 13 to get his wet for the first time. He cried a week straight after that." Aegon laughs in his ear, his wine filled breath hitting his nose.

He tastes blood again.

Spineless fucker how dare you.

Maegor stands up abruptly to face Aegon. They're the same height so his venomous glare easily finds Aegon's alcohol glazed eyes.

"I would invite you to the sparring grounds right now if I didn't know you were too busy emptying wine cups instead of brandishing blades, uncle." It is his turn to lean in Aegon's ear. 

Maegor places his hand on his shoulder, mirroring the gesture and squeezing it in a vice grip until Aegon's mouth twists in obvious displeasure. A clear, blunt threat. If only he would take his invitation so he could obliterate him on the training grounds.

Aemond watches him with interest and a glint in his eye humming in approval at the mentioning of blades.

"A toast for our children." Daemon suddenly clears his voice. His expression is amused but the gaze he holds towards his son is a firm, cold one. Maegor immediately understands and complies, seating himself at the table again. Causing a scene now would cast an ever darker shadow above his family.

Aegon returns to his seat as well irritated. He needed more to drink his humiliation away.

"Aegon enjoys taunting people to get reactions out of them. He just needs to get put back in his place." Maegor suddenly feels a hand on his knee and Aemond's hair brushes against the skin of his cheek as he leans in to whisper in his ear. 

Instinctively he flinches in surprise and snaps his head towards the source, finding himself just inches apart from Aemond. They were practically breathing in eachother's air. His skin was burning again, but Aemond's breaths felt hotter against his face. The scorching heat from where Aemond touched him travelled all the way up to his head making him dazed.

Gods give me strength.

Jace suddenly jumps up, his fists coming in contact with the table. All eyes dart to him in surprise. Maegor bites back his tongue and curses his half brother and that drunkard fool for the interruption. Aegon moved back to his elder brother and Baela to taunt them again with his perverted comments. 

Aemond stands up abruptly. Maegor was suffocating from his earlier gesture but now the tension that was coming off him was even more unbearable. Aemond's violet eye silently stares down Aegon until he returns to his seat, shuffling nervously then it moves to Jacaerys. Maegor's elder brother is equally as uncomfortable, avoiding Aemond's stare and searching for an escape. 

"To Prince Aegon and...Prince Aemond." Jace swallows with an empty mouth. The hesitation and slight pause before mentioning Aemond's name is not missed. 

"We have not seen each other in years but I have fond memories of our shared youth." Jace continues, testing his luck like a fool. He swallows again, realizing those fond memories also referred to the constant taunting Maegor and Aemond endured in their childhood and the loss of the latter's eye.

 "And as men, I hope that we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family's good health, dear uncles." Maegor saw Aemond's jaw tighten and clench. Maegor casts a glance of disapproval to his half brother and thankfully Jace wasn't so dense to press on the matter.

"To you as well." Aegon muttered trying to shift his shoulder away from the hand Jace placed on him. He looked uncomfortable. Maegor smiled under his glass of wine at his discomposure.

All the eyes moved from Jacaerys to Aemond, awaiting for his own response feigning goodwill like everyone else was doing for the past length of this dinner. Aemond scowls, in obvious irritation and avoids the expectant stares of his parents. He was about to make a toast when Maegor's hand brushes against his leg under the table. Aemond's eye blinks in surprise but he  retakes his seat. They exchange fleeting glances, Maegor offering an apologetic look before they resume their cold facades. 

"Well done my boy." Viserys hits his cane in approval.

"Beware the beast beneath the boards." Helaena mumbles drawing Maegor's attention for a brief moment. 

No one else pays mind to her until she stand up to make a toast to Baela and Rhaena. She spent most of her childhood alone, trapped in her own world but Maegor pities her fate that got her tangled with her vile brother. Aegon's preferences were well known in and out of court but he was glad his younger brother was nothing like the failure he was.

Music is ordered to be played. Jacaerys extends his hand to Helaena offering an invitation to dance to which she happily obliges. Aegon initially disregards his wife and mother of his children but then looks dumbfounded as he slowly begins to process his drunken thoughts. He searches for his younger brother to which Aemond just glares back at him coldly. Aegon scoffs and decides the wine is still the best company for him.

"I was wondering if you would indulge me with that promised sparring session one of these days, uncle." Maegor taps against the table with his fingers. Aemond's head immediately turns to him and he swears he sees the ghost of a smirk against his lips for a moment. Or maybe he was just going mad.

"Ah yes. I shall keep my promise. I always do." Aemond hums touching Maegor's wine cup with his own before sipping some of the drink. For once tonight it would seem he was less irritated. 

Maegor's heart swoops with victory at the thought that he was the only one in the room Aemond seemed content interacting with without displaying hostile behavior. A genuine smile is returned to the older Prince and for a moment the violet eye seems to soften in response. 

Suddenly the exhausted King is carried back to his chambers by his guards at the same time more plates with food are brought in by the servants. A steaming, juicy roasted pig is settled right in front of the two of them. Aemond's fingers twitch and his violet eye no longer carries any softness. 

Behold the Pink Dread. 

The voices echo through Maegor's mind and he is certain they are likely overwhelming Aemond as well. Before him, the older Prince was the main target of all the pranks and taunting, that was until he claimed Vhagar. No one dared to talk back at him after he became the rider of a conqueror's dragon. Aemond turns his head towards the nearest wall and avoids looking at the main course.

Lucerys suddenly chuckles staring right at them from across the table. 

It was enough to make Aemond's head snap towards the source of the irritating noise. He stares him down but Luke continues to snicker in defiance just like he did years ago when he went down in the dragon pit and brought Aemond that fucking pig for him to ride.

Maegor shoots a glare to his younger brother, urging him silently to stop but if anything it only riles him up even more. Somehow it was more hilarious to his younger half brother that he was seated next to Aemond. 

A fist comes crashing against the table as Aemond jumps up, gaining everyone's attention and surprise. 

"Final tribute." Aemond states sharply. Darkness flashes against his features and Maegor could almost taste his rage on the tip of his tongue.

"To the health of my nephews." Aemond feigns calmness but the twitch of his fingers against his wine cup says otherwise.

"Jace." A violet eye stares Jacaerys down who shares a puzzled and wary look with Maegor then with Lucerys. Jace silently asks Maegor to intervene before it's too late.

"Luke and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise… hmm…" Aemond continues in a collected manner and stops briefly as if searching for an appropriate adjective. Maegor knew what was going to follow and tapped the table to gain his attention, practically begging him silently to stop.

"Strong." Aemond doesn't stop.

"Aemond." Alicent Hightower warned, faintly shaking her head in disapproval but he blatantly ignores her.

"Come. Let us drain our cups to these three." The Prince raises his wine cup higher to which Aegon mirrors his gesture, joining him in amusement but he probably was already too drunk to realize the severity of the situation.

Maegor sucks in a nervous breath and places his hand on Aemond's leg under the table like he did earlier, urging him to stop.

"Strong boys." Aemond concludes satisfied with himself. He does not comply to Maegor's silent plead but he does not slap his hand away either.

"I dare you to say that again." Jacaerys warns, his fists curled in rage. His body is tensed up but he holds his head lower as if he knows the balance of power between them.

"Why? Twas' only a compliment." Aemond questions, masquerading his innocence before he shifts away from Maegor's touch to advance towards Jace.

Maegor stands up immediately sensing the tension that was brewing and was about to be unleashed. He was conflicted about his options. The urge to defend his family for it was his duty was battling the instinctive urge to defend Aemond. 

"Do you not think yourself Strong?" Jacaerys throws the first punch but Aemond barely staggers. Maegor freezes up.

"Jace!" He hears his mother shout and he bristles up but he can't act without remaining neutral. 

 Lucerys jumps up to charge after Aemond but is swiftly slammed face first against the table by Aegon who clearly had a streak for going after those weaker than him. The drunkard's force makes Luke's vision cloud for a moment and it was the trigger Maegor needed to pick a side and intervene.

Aemond shoves Jacaerys roughly against the floor and chuckles in response of the grunt filled rage he receives in return when the guards manage to hold him back.  

"That is enough!" The Queen demands with no avail. 

Maegor darts besides Aemond, hitting him against his shoulder and making him slightly falter on his feet in surprise. Maegor lunges at Aegon offering an escape to Luke who is dragged by the guards as well. He flanks him from his side until Aegon is painfully slammed with his back against the floor where Maegor pins him down in a vice grip.

Aemond looks pleased by his doings, observing the chaos that was unfolding before his eye.

"Why would you say such a thing before these people!?" The Queen demands in desperation. She really thought a single dinner had the potential to heal all the wounds along years of bitterness.  Aemond scoffs at her. 

"I was merely expressing how proud I am of our family, mother. Hmm, though it seems most of my nephews aren't aren't quite as proud of theirs." The One Eyed Prince is not quite done yet but Maegor hears how he accentuated most.  Almost imperceptible but clearly referring to him. A silent refusal to place him in the same pot as his half brothers. Respect and acknowledgement and perhaps something more.

Rhaenyra moves next to her children to soothe them down but Jace and Luke start struggling against the guards again at the fresh offense thrown in their faces. 

"Wait, wait!" Daemon intervenes at last, lifting an arm towards his step sons and it is enough to stop them from charging after Aemond. They obey him immediately and he herds them back to their mother silently with his commanding presence alone. Maegor turns his head to his father briefly, easing his grip against Aegon momentarily.

The drunkard takes advance of the distraction and spits in Maegor's face, kicking his shin in a poor attempt at breaking loose.  

He sees red. 

All the fire triggered by Aemond earlier turned into blinding rage again.

"I killed a man today. Don't make me kill a second." Maegor growls in Aegon's face as his hands move from the the collar of his tunic where they were curled in fists to wrap around his throat. He hears gasps of shock but he ignores them until he feels a familiar burning gaze on him.

 There's an itch Maegor feels as if Aemond is silently daring him to try. Daring him to kill someone in front of him again. It was tempting.

It takes Daemon to grab him by the back of his collar and yank him off Aegon to put an end to his thoughts and drive him too next to his half brothers. Maegor curls his lip in anger but complies. 

"Go to your quarters. All of you go now!" Rhaenyra demands, exhausted and irritated. It was a long day and she was having none of it anymore. 

At the command, Jace, Luke and their betrothed shamefully return to their chambers with their mother following closely behind to make sure they would obey. 

Maegor doesn't follow, standing next to his father that was certain to scold him after all this was finished. Daemon stands tall with a seemingly amused smile on his lips, staring down Aemond in silence. He was the one daring Aemond to try anything now with eyes full of disdain but the Prince just hums in response feigning interest. The air was tense between them and Maegor could just hope Aemond was wise enough to not start an offense against his father as well.

Thankfully, Aemond gives in first, choosing to leave instead of antagonize. His hand lightly brushes against Maegor's unseen when he departs. A silent invitation.  

Maegor doesn't take his eye off his back and how his long silver hair sways when he exits the hall. The rush was already fogging his thoughts. There was only a thin line of reason left in his brain that was stopping him from chasing after Aemond right under Daemon's nose.

"Go to your chambers. Enough ruckus for one night." His father commands in an exhausted voice but there's a certain look in his eyes that his son can't figure out. Maegor nods and disappears swiftly not waiting to see if any scolding would follow.  Wandering aimlessly in the hallways, he finds himself in front of his chamber. 

Maegor stops in front of the door and contemplates his choices for a moment. The hour was late, most were surely sleeping including Jace with whom he shared the room. Certainly his older brother would not mind his absence.

 He decides to go against Daemon's words in the end and makes his way towards the sparring grounds with the intention to blow steam off and clear his head. Tonight he made progress with Aemond but Maegor was still not satisfied. 

The training grounds are quiet and empty like he expected them to be. Solitude was sometimes his greatest aid in times of uncertainty such as these. 

Nightbringer is unsheated with a sharp sound and Maegor closes his eyes. He begins his dance, striking invisible foes down with his blade certain he was the only one outside at this hour. The night air is crisp and cold on his scorching skin. It soothes Maegor.

"Like I said, I always keep my promises." A familiar voice makes him stop abruptly with a stagger. Aemond reveals himself from the dark with a slight smirk on his lips. His violet eye is blazing.

He tastes fire.

Maegor throat is bone dry. He does not utter a word, just nods in response, accepting the sparring invitation. He tries to straighten his body and retake a proper posture fit for a warrior. Embarassing himself in front of the older Prince would be the last thing he does. 

Aemond unsheathes his own sword and allows his nephew to make the first move. They begin to move freely in unison, dancing as steel clashes against steel. The sound of metal echoes through the training grounds. 

Maegor touches heaven at last. The force of the power displayed is enough to make him dizzy with bliss. The only thing that keeps him grounded are the heavy strikes of his opponent meant to disarm him to which he responds with equal strength. Neither of the Princes had any intention of yielding to each other. Which each strike of steel their breaths become heavier, their movements slowing down with tiredness but just as relentless as they were in the beginning. Maegor was getting more than a little excited.

With a deep inhale and the rush of renewed energy, Maegor twists his body and surges forward after a particular heavy strike. He uses the short window of time and comes from his blind eye, mirroring Aemond's move that assured his victory in front of Ser Criston Cole earlier at their reunion. 

The older Prince stops in surprise when he feels the cold kiss of Nightbringer under his chin, threatening to bite his skin open. Maegor holds a victorious gaze full of confidence and he feels his spine set ablaze. 

Aemond smiles and yields in defeat sheathing his blade and raising his hands in defeat. There's a strange spark in his violet eye that peaks Maegor's curiosity and lures him in like a fly to a spider's web. 

Nightbringer is removed from Aemond's throat and Maegor barely has time to sheathe it when he is suddenly grasped by the collar of his tunic and pulled upwards. His uncle slams his lips against his own in the heat of the moment. It only lasts a few seconds as they both pulled away equally as stunned by Aemond's actions.

The air no longer feels crisp. It's burning. It's scorching his lungs painfully so. He cannot breathe and it feels like he is dying.

 They exchange a brief stare that feels like hours, a war of confliction raging in both of them before Maegor decided to act first this time. He went after Aemond, catching his face in his hand and pressing his lips against him in a tentative and inexperienced kiss, rising his body on his tiptoes to be able to reach him. The older Prince immediately reciprocates and they shift from the middle of the courtyard to the nearest wall where Aemond takes lead and presses Maegor with his back against it. The kiss is quickly deepened when Aemond's hands find their way inside the other's tunic and Maegor shamelessly moans in his mouth like a man starved all his life. 

He knew it was utterly lost and broken at that moment. There was no going back now for either of them. 

It takes every ounce of strength for Maegor to keep himself standing and not crumble down like a castle of sand when they paused briefly to gasp for air. He takes his time and observes Aemond's face from close proximity. Maegor's fingers trace his features slowly, hesitantly touching the tip of his scar. Aemond allows him, studying his face with a soft gaze. 

The fingers trace higher until they hit the edge of the leather eyepatch. Maegor pauses then advances boldly, touching softly the tender tissue under the eyepatch until he finds the glassy surface of what feels like a polished stone.  The gasp he manages to draw out of Aemond's quivering lips hits him right in the depths of his core. 

"From the moment I met you I always knew you were a true dragon, not like those bastards you call brothers." Aemond closes every bit of space between them and leans his head down so he can press his mouth against his nephew's neck.

"Is that true uncle? Would you let me burn you then?" Maegor smiles victoriously, renewed with a new kind of boldness and confidence he never experienced before. He shivers at the heat that was coming off from Aemond. 

"Would you let me burn you until the wind scatters your ashes and fills my lungs with your being?" Aemond groans loudly at the thought and grips Maegor's slender waist with both of his hands as if he had to hold onto something so he wouldn't falter.

He was making Aemond feel like this. It was him alone and no one else. All the bottled up tension from the past day finally spilled over in the best ways possible.

"We shall burn each other like we were always meant to do." The One Eyed Prince whispers, only for them to hear. He inhales deeply the scent of his nephew with a loud sigh.

It was paradise. Maegor no longer held any doubts that Aemond did not reciprocate the feelings and fire that was scorching him. 

Both men were branding their minds with every possible sensation of their beings. It could be years until they saw each other again. It could be the last time they ever saw each other.

 They stay like that for a few moments longer in each other's arm, basking in the heat, craving the scorching touch until Aemond uses all of his willpower and straightens up with a silent sigh and an apologetic look in his eye. 

Maegor understands. If anyone caught them after the events that unfolded during dinner earlier it could bring more unwanted consequences on both of their families. These crumbs that were hastily thrown had to sate their craving for the time being.

Aemond turns to take his leave reluctantly.

"I always keep my promises. Do not forget that." He stops and gives Maegor one last look before departing to his chambers as quick as his walk allowed because he was certain if he stayed a moment longer, if he stole another glance it would be impossible to leave. 

Maegor leans back and groans in frustration, sliding down against the stone wall until he finds himself sitting on the ground. The leather pants he was wearing were painfully tight and his mind was in a haze. Aemond was his greatest sin.

We shall burn each other like we were always meant to do.

Everything inside him was howling in both delight and irritation. Dragonless or not the vigor inside him could allow him to slay through an army of men at that moment. He was certain of it.

Somewhere from the cover of balcony, unbeknownst to anyone, a pair of eyes closely watched the two Princes with a glare of scorn.

[flightfoot]

Swallowing Rings Is Bad For Your Health

So I read part 34 of @buggachat Bakery Enemies AU and was inspired! Thanks to @khanofallorcs for betaing!

AO3

Marinette thoughtfully chewed on her croissant. Maybe Adrien wasn’t so bad? And he’d looked so eager to have her try his baking, like a puppy that’d just been told he was a “good boy!”

Or a Chat who’d just gotten a compliment from His Lady���

She shook her head violently. NO NO NO BAD MARINETTE DO NOT THINK ABOUT THAT. What was up with her subconscious connecting Chat with Adrien lately?! NO, subconscious, she did NOT have a crush on Adrien, STOP CONNECTING HIM WITH THE BOY SHE LOVED.

“Are you looking for something?” her dad said, somewhere behind her.

“I- I can’t find my-”

Marinette bit into something hard.

“GAAAAH!”

She whipped around, holding the hard, round thing between her teeth.

“MY RING!” Adrien screamed, tearing out his hair, looking at her wildly.

As she made to spit the ring out, it slipped sideways. 

Between her teeth.

And near the back of her throat.

Reflexively, she swallowed.

They both froze, staring at each other in abject horror.

“NOOOOOOOOO!” A guttural scream ripped from Adrien’s throat.

He seized Marinette’s shoulders “I NEED HI- IT BACK! I HAVE TO GET THAT RING BACK OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT!”

“IS THE RING SAFE AM I GONNA DIE OH GOD IT’S TOXIC ISN’T IT I’M GONNA DIE!” Marinette screamed back, hyperventilating nearly as badly as he was.

“Okay, okay, calm down,” Tom said, putting up his hands. “Look, swallowing metal isn’t good, but this isn’t time to panic. Your mother swallowed the first engagement ring I tried to give her when I hid it in the bread I baked for her and she’s still alive. It should pass in a few days-”

Mom had? Okay, so maybe things would be ok-

“I CAN’T LOSE THAT RING!” Adrien screamed, not having calmed in the slightest. “SHIT SHIT FUCK WHAT IF IT’S TOO LATE WHAT IF IT’S DESTROYED WHAT IF I KILLED HI- IT! KILLED IT!”

Tom gently put an arm around Adrien, rubbing his back. “It’ll be okay, son. Things’ll work out. Let’s just sit down for a bit and rest…”

He led Adrien away towards the living room, Adrien staring straight ahead, clinging to her father for all he was worth.

--------

A ring slowly began glowing, pulsing with light, getting brighter and brighter.

Until…

*FWOOSH*

A small black cat spiralled out.

And promptly hit a wall.

Green slitted eyes blinked. “Eugh, where’d that kid put me?” Plagg grumbled, reaching out a paw to feel the obstruction.

It was weirdly soft, stretchy, and damp. Though at least not as wet as the “floor” of wherever Plagg was - his tail would’ve been soaked if he hadn’t kept it insubstantial.

No light, either. Even with his night vision, he couldn’t see a thing.

With a jolt, the surroundings moved, taking Plagg with them. Weird shrieking noises emanated from nearby, though he couldn’t tell from where exactly - it felt like everything around him was vibrating.

Nope, not staying here. What was Adrien thinking, leaving the ring in this weird place?

Plagg turned insubstantial, phasing out of the weird container just enough to take a peek at his location-

“DIE CHESTBURSTER DIE!” 

“AUGH!”

-and found himself unceremoniously whacked into a wall (a non-moist one this time) by a rolling pin.

Plagg blinked up from the ground.

An irate Marinette Dupain-Cheng stood over him, holding a rolling pin aloft. Slowly, her expression softened, turning from ‘I’m going to murder you where you sit’ to ‘Oh crap, what’ve I done’.

“Plagg?” She called out hoarsely, as if afraid that saying his name would make him disappear. “How- What- I’m so so so sorry I didn’t mean to hurt you oh crap what if he’s dead oh cr-”

“Camembert…” he groaned.

Marinette abruptly stopped panicking. “What?” 

“Camembert… will heal… all my injuries… I’ll die without it… I need three wheels of cheese…”

“Yeah, you’re fine,” Marinette concluded.

Plagg shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

“What were you thinking?!” Marinette said. “Poking around like that and then sticking your head out through my torso - I almost had a heart attack!”

She froze. “Wait… how’re you here? Where’s Chat Noir?!”

“You tell me, you’re the one with my ring inside you.”

The blood drained from her face. Fumbling around, she shakily made her way to the nearest chair, collapsing in a heap. “Your ring. I have your ring. Inside me.”

Plagg tilted his head to the side. “Yessss…?”

“I swallowed Adrien’s ring,” she said dazedly, staring straight ahead. 

“You know, I don’t care if you play tonsil hockey with my kid, but could you not use my Miraculous as the puck?” he said conversationally. “I don’t enjoy ending up inside of creatures as much as you do.”

Marinette’s eyes bulged, “I- WHAT- I DO NOT!”

“You end up leaping into mouths a lot…”

“AS PART OF MY PLAN TO DEFEAT THE SUPERVILLAIN!”

“But you’re always smiling-”

“SHUT UP.”

--------

Adrien trudged to work. 

What else could he do?

Keeping away wouldn’t bring Plagg back.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid, how could I be so careless,” he muttered to himself, throwing open the bakery door. It slammed into the wall. He couldn’t bring himself to care.

Marinette greeted him, looking unusually upbeat. Adrien’s spirits lifted a little, despite himself.

“Morning, kitty,” she said, sauntering over to him. He blinked, his brain trying to process what that meant, as she dropped his ring into his hands. “We have a lot to talk about.”

His mind spinning, coming to conclusions that he couldn’t comprehend just yet, he latched onto anything that didn’t disrupt his world, anything solid, as he gazed down at his Miraculous.

“It looks pristine! How did you-”

“THAT IS NOT ONE OF THE THINGS WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT.”

[delimeful]

(don’t) take this the wrong way (7) (END)

final chapter of dtttww :) i had a lot of fun with this verse so i may take requests set in it in the future, and this might receive some more copy editing later, but for now this is the epilogue!

warnings: mild injury, mild hypnosis, for once no miscommunication :)

-

[Several months later…]

Sunlight trickled down through the water in wavy bands, illuminating the shallows and growing fainter and fainter as the distance from the surface increased.

Virgil didn’t spend much time in the shallows, too wary of being without escape, being made vulnerable to human vessels or poachers. Despite his dark and gloomy aesthetic, he couldn’t go too far into the depths either, simply because his fragile fish bones weren't built for it. His eyes weren’t built for it either, and down there where anything could be lurking, he would need more than speed to avoid danger.

So, on an average, sunny day like this, he could be found miles offshore, in waters that were easily too deep for unsuited humans to reach, but still well-illuminated by the light above.

There were a few old wrecks scattered about the ocean floor here, and though they’d probably been stripped by a pod in the past, he figured he’d go through them and check for anything that was left behind. Things that weren’t useful to a pod could certainly be things that were useful to him, after all.

He’d been poking through the undercarriage of one of the larger ships for an hour or two, relaxed as he ever got. He could take his time. The only creatures around to judge him were the shoals of fish and layers of barnacles built up amidst the metal, wood, and rust.

Actually… Virgil paused in his inspection of an old cutlery set to glance around.

What had happened to the fish?

Through a hole in the ship’s hull, he watched as a broad shadow passed over the ground and ships alike, large enough to belong to a whale.

There hadn’t been a single shred of whalesong above.

Virgil edged further back from the hole, eyeing the outside warily as the shadow receded, leaving behind only wavering sunlight on sand as though it had never been there at all.

There was nothing here that was worth sticking around.

He carefully made his way back to one of the other exits, in the opposite direction of where he’d seen the shadow head, the strokes of his fin cutting through the water with barely a whisper. The porthole was easily wide enough for him, and the ocean stretched out blue and vast before him, a promise of safety if he just moved fast enough.

A moment’s pause, to make sure he didn’t hear or see anything out of place, and then he was out, flitting from rock outcropping to bone reef and scanning the seas above. Not for the first time, he wished his scales were a little less distinctive in the day.

Behind him, an ominous creak.

He froze, and watched with mounting apprehension as a shadow spilled over him, looming closer and darker than before. The silhouette of an arm stretched out, heading towards him…

“Virgil, you must help,” a huge voice pleaded, “I’ve been had.”

He twisted around just in time to see a huge arm flop down onto the floor next to him, kicking up a cloud of sand and panicked burrower fish in the process.

It was wrapped in heavy wire netting from fingertips to forearm, and behind it, a giant mer was pouting at him with the best seal pup eyes he could manage, which, considering who his best friend was, were fairly potent.

Roman was huge, and he was a shark, with teeth and claws designed to shred and tear, and hands that could enclose him entirely-- but his elbows were braced against the ground with delicate balance so he wouldn’t crush anything, and he’d never grabbed for Virgil past that first disastrous encounter, and even now, his brow was furrowing with worry.

“Pufferfish status?” he asked, voice lowered from the dramatic plea of before.

Virgil’s mouth pulled up at the corners without his permission.

Roman was huge, yes, but he was also theatrical and eager and witty, full of sharp return quips for every barb Virgil had to offer.

He could hurt him, but he wouldn’t. Virgil believed that much.

“Prickly for a second, but I’m smooth now,” he answered, shrugging away the last of the tension. “Try not to sneak up on me without a warning click?”

“You have my word,” Roman replied, and if someone had told him months ago that he’d dare to ask anything of a giant mer, he’d have laughed in their faces. Now, Virgil knew that just like all the other requests, Roman would do his best to heed it.

“But really, my fingers are starting to feel numb. Help?” he entreated with a tilt of his head, shifting his net-wrapped hand a little closer.

Virgil rolled his eyes, but his smile didn’t go away, though it tilted more towards amused now. He darted forward, twisting in a spiral around Roman’s hand to try and see the extent of the damage.

“How’d you even manage this? At least I had the excuse of being caught up in a storm,” he snarked, picking at a loose section with his claws. Roman’s fingers twitched a little, and he shot him an apologetic glance.

“I was… perhaps… trying to get a glimpse of those sailors that Logan mentioned patrolled the coast?” Roman offered, more than a little sheepish.

Virgil’s gaze turned sharp in a heartbeat. “Did they spot you?”

Logan had warned both Patton and Roman several times that not many humans would take as kindly to their long-term existence near human settlements as Logan himself had.

“No!” Roman assured, “I was very stealthy, truly, I was just… so focused on being stealthy that I missed the other vessel and the nets it had dragging along behind it. It could have happened to anyone!”

“I seriously doubt that,” Virgil replied dryly. He’d snapped a few of the looser wires with his teeth, but already his jaw was beginning to ache with the strain. “Well, you get to explain this to Specs, ‘cause we’re going to need his expertise in detangling for this one.”

Roman groaned in answer, dropping his head to plonk against the ground.

---

Logan carefully set one foot in front of the other, all of his focus on the thin strip of rock below him.

If he switched his gaze to even a few inches to either side, he’d be faced with the sight of a vertigo-inducing drop to the waves below, one that would have all but the most experienced tightrope walkers dizzy with panic.

His gaze didn’t move, though, unerringly focused on the ground beneath him, and on his own body. There was no need to look at anything but the ledge, a soft presence confirmed in the back of his mind, because he wasn’t going to fall.

Another part of him was skeptical, seeing as he wasn’t known for a lack of clumsiness by most. There was just so much to get distracted by, and it was so easy to look away and miss a curb or accidentally trip over his own feet--

But not now. Now, he was focused on just this one task, a gentle voice dragging his attention back whenever it began to stray. He was hyper aware of where each of his limbs were and where he needed to put them to continue forward, step by careful step.

Only a little farther…

“Logan!”

The harsh call snapped him right out of the trance, and he was abruptly made very aware of both the distance he could fall and the effects that sudden instinctual terror had on his sense of balance.

“Newton’s fucking Cradle,” he swore, and then wobbled again, precariously close to falling over.

There was the sound of water crashing against rock, and in the next moment, two giant hands had curled up on either side of him like the shells of an oyster. They provided him some much needed stability to lean his weight against, and he struggled to steady his breathing as relief swept through him.

“It’s okay, Virgil, I won’t let him fall! No cliffs, ands, or buts about it,” Patton’s voice was muffled, but not enough to miss the pun.

Logan sighed loudly, but he also shifted to let his full weight rest against the curl of Patton’s left palm, tapping twice to let him know it was alright for him to move.

His stomach still swooped slightly as Patton slowly shifted his hands away from the thin rock ledge, but there were some things that one had to adapt to when living with two very affectionate, grabby sea giants, and being toted around was one of those things.

Before long, he was level with the flattest segment of rock that made up their meeting place, which could be called an island if one was feeling gracious, but was really more of a collection of rocky spires and bridges that stuck out of the ocean.

Logan was barely able to sit up before Virgil pulled himself up at the edge of Patton’s palm, expression thunderous but his hands gentle as he carefully checked him over for scrapes or injuries.

“Nearly gave me a heart attack,” he grumbled, a phrase that he used much more frequently around Logan for some reason. Logan had already been reassured that it was an exaggeration and Virgil had no heart problems he knew of, so instead of worrying, he bore his friend’s fussing with good grace. “Did we or did we not agree that you need a spotter if you want to play around with bullshit sirensong magic?”

The mer paused. “No offense, Pat.”

“None taken!” Patton replied from where he had sunk further into the water to put himself closer to eye-level.

“I figured you would be along shortly,” Logan defended, and then perked up at the reminder of his most recent experiment. “Besides, one of the things tested in this trial was if the siren song could overshadow significant fear or even terror, and I wouldn’t have been nearly as afraid if you’d been there with me.”

“Aw,” Roman cooed, curling his tail up and leaning against one of the larger rock outcroppings, his posture slightly off.

Virgil dragged a hand over his face with a sigh, and then flapped a ‘go on’ gesture at Logan, distracting him. “So, what’d you figure out this time?”

Logan needed no further encouragement.

“Even the lightest application of a siren’s song can overwhelm other emotions,” he started, recalling the utter honed focus he had experienced. “While in the past I’ve felt distant or removed from my body while under its effects, this time I had Patton focus on requesting a very specific task, and due to the intense concentration it took, I was very present in the moment while fulfilling that task.”

“You didn’t snap out of it until I called for you,” Virgil interjected, more curious than wary. “Was it harder than normal to use the grounding tactics?”

One of the first things Logan had investigated was what it took for him to resist and even break free from Patton’s song, a task that Virgil had demanded in order to let him run any experiments with the siren’s magic. Back then, Virgil hadn’t expected Patton to agree, and he’d outright sulked for weeks to cover up the nerves he felt whenever the siren thralled Logan.

“It was,” Logan said, his excitement growing as he considered the new information. “Without significant outside stimulus, all of my attention was focused on the task, and so I couldn’t pull away mentally to do my normal grounding techniques!”

“I’ve never heard someone so excited about being hypnotized better,” Roman commented wryly.

“He should get a hypnoprize,” Patton added, and Virgil grinned, because he was a traitor who enabled Patton’s wordplay habits.

“Is there an award for smart people doing dumb things?” Virgil mused teasingly. “Logan could be voted ‘most likely to throw himself into danger in the pursuit of knowledge.’”

“That’s why he has us, Finding Emo,” Roman countered, gesturing extravagantly with one hand. “We would never abandon him to the cruel clutches of his own nerdiness.”

Logan couldn’t help but feel a thrill of pride at the casual way that Virgil ducked beneath one of Roman’s sweeping gestures, no trace of the blatant fear or suspicion that had been present as recently as a month ago.

They’d really come a long way from the misunderstandings of that first encounter, all of them.

A glint of light at the edge of the shark mer’s submerged forearm caught Logan’s eye, and he frowned. “Roman, what’s happened to your arm?”

Roman’s prideful grin dropped into sheepishness immediately. “Well, about that…”

“Princey here was abandoned to the cruel clutches of his own reckless dumbassery,” Virgil informed him, ignoring Roman’s trill of offense to drift back and shove at the hand in question until Roman finally lifted it, displaying the impressive collection of netting that he’d managed to get tangled in.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Patton clucked sympathetically, and Roman soaked in the attention like a very dramatic sponge. Virgil rolled his eyes even as he sawed at a few of the looser wires, and Logan sighed in fond exasperation as he reached for his pocket knife.

Perhaps some things would never change.

[euphoriic-dysphoria]

Blue hair - Bucky Barnes

Firs time posting something like this on Tumblr, I welcome constructive criticism, anything to make my writing better and easier to read. As long as you're not an ass about it.

Summary: you've wanted to dye your hair for sometime now, but you're too scared to do it all by yourself and it seems like a whole big thing now that you keep kinda wanna do with a friend. Yes I'm projecting😅😅

THERE MIGHT BE A PART TWO, NOT REALLY SURE YET.

Warnings ⚠️ : none, just extreme flustered bucky, whipped bucky, fluff ig yeah. Without further ado,

Bucky was falling for you. Hard. He fell more each and everyday, but somehow, you were either not into him at all, or painfully oblivious.

He said painfully, because everytime you expressed even the slightest discomfort, even if on the Quinjet you just couldn't fall asleep, bucky just had this inexplicable urge to suddenly bring you all the pillows in the world to make you happy and laugh and smile your beautiful smile.

Bucky wasn't stupid. He'd seen how smart you were on missions, and how fast you'd solved riddles to annoy Tony. You would never be oblivious to things like this. He'd long ago accepted that he was just gonna be a friend to you, of course that didn't stop him from daydreaming about you, or freezing up everytime you brushed your arm with his.

After all, some might assume what with bucky falling head over heels for you (literally, but that's a story for another time, including Sam and being at the beach) that you guys were probably best friends or at least pretty close. Nope. Bucky was embarrassed to say that you stole away all his old fashioned Brooklyn charm the minute you were in a 2 meter radius. He was so nervous he stumbled over his words and opted to just stay quiet and enjoy your presence.

Of course, you thought that bucky was just naturally shy, and well- akward. It never occurred to you that you were the cause of that shyness, but you didn't mind. You found it endearing and utterly adorable the way a pale pink would wash over his features, and brush across his nose.

Today, he was utterly relaxed, pink free, in his room in the Avengers tower, reading and trying to get the thought of you out of his mind. That was hard when abruptly a hard knock sounded at his door, and he was just about to turn around and ignore it, when he heard you mumbling and thinking outside. Supersoldierhearing

Closing his book, he straightened up and furrowed his brow, thinking as to why you'd be outside his room. He hoped everything was alright.

"buckkyyyyyyyy! Woa-hiya, how are YOU on this verrrry fine morning?" You stumbled into his room, bucky was so deep into his thoughts he wasn't aware he opened the door so suddenly, you almost fell in.

A whirlwind of chaotic energy, you recovered quickly and jumped about, before turning back to where bucky was frozen at his door.

You were only wearing a T shirt.

Now, it was 7 in the morning, and most of the avengers were well aware that you walked around in a t-shirt in the mornings, well, only Steve and Nat cause they were the only ones that woke up then. Normally, bucky wakes up earlier to do his run, and so by the time you wake up, he's showered and reading in his room.

Shaking his head a bit to uh, clear up his thoughts, he quietly trudged back to his bed, where you were sitting and excitedly bouncing up and down on.

You gave him a good morning half hug, as you were practically buzzing with energy.

Oh. That alone was more that enough to make Bucky's cheeks start to glow a dusty pink.

However, you were already setting up the boxes of hair dye on his night stand.

"ok. Alright buck, are you ready for maybe the most important decision of your lifetime?? Ahem-" Buckys eyes widened as you did a little drumroll, jiggling your thighs and bringing up your shirt a bit, but you were too absorbed in the boxes you didn't even notice.

In your best announcer voice, you looked at him and grinned. "Blue, or red?" Holding up each colour respectively.

Huh? Bucky was so focused on your smile he practically missed what you said, which would've been hella embarrassing.

"uh- I'm not- where is this coming from?" Bucky almost winced at his voice, coming out hoarse and deep.

With an angelic smile on your face a devil would fall for, you patiently explained the hair dye situation. You wanted to dye your hair. Check. You already bought the hair dye. Check. And last but not least, now you were waiting on one of your friends to reply to you about dying their hair too. This wasn't a demanding act, for you only hit up the people you knew also had wanted to dye their hair too.

"i-i uh whyreyaaskingme?" Oh god. Before Bucky had anytime to mentally smAcK himself for mumbling like that, you were already replying.

With a soft smile you said, "well of course I'm asking you buck, I don't think it's very nice to knock on people's doors at 7 in the morning unless they're awake, and Nat and Steve left together to get coffee. Plus, I trust your opinion, I'm sure you have an excellent sense of style." You teased, reminding him of the time he refused to wear a ridiculous suit that Tony had jokingly, not really, designed.

Buck sighed quietly, as you made your way to the bathroom to compare the colours. Ouch. It was never a nice feeling to know you had come to him out of necessity. Little did he know, you had earlier rushed Nat and Steve straight outta here, in attempts to build a closer bond with bucky. Those two just shared a smug little knowing look, before hightailing it right out of the tower.

Lost in his thoughts, bucky didn't realize you had stopped muttering to yourself about the hair colours.

It was quiet. Too quiet. In the bathroom, there was absolutely no sound.

Bucky frowned, making his way over, and knocked on the door.

"can-uh do you mind if I come in?" Bucky knocked.

The door creaked open, and Bucky peeked inside to find your dejected expression and little pouty lips as you sat on the edge of the sink counter, scrolling through your phone.

"hey- wh-whats wrong doll?" Aw jeez. Cut it out, he said firmly in his head. Stop stuttering, just talk to her like a normal person.

"you- wanna tell me why you're looking like a sad puppy down over here?" Bucky's breath hitches as he's in the middle of berating himself for comparing you to a puppy, when you finally look up and meet his eyes, droplets threatening to leak and break past your waterline.

Bucky's heart just about cracks at the sadness radiating off of you. As far as he knows, you of all people should never have to feel this sad. All nervousness forgotten, he quickly bends down and tilts your chin up, tenderly wiping away the tears that have now started their journey down your cheeks.

It's been 5 minutes of you and him, leaning against each other as he wipes away the quiet tears that keep replacing each other.

Finally, in a quiet voice, you explain. At first it was just the dissapointment of no one wanting to really dye their hair with you. But you understood. Really, it was early in the morning, and it was easy to see why people didn't wanna dye their hair right away, or at all even. You completely and totally respected them and their choices. But then, you thought, maybe they're annoyed at me. Maybe, they don't like me anymore. Maybe they wish I'd leave them alone. Maybe they'd be better off without me.

You were well aware you were spiralling, but after the negative thoughts started, it was hard to stop. You had anxiety of these types of things.

Countless times, Nat and Wanda had had to reassure your wanted presence and that the team did love you.

While you were explaining, Buckys arms slowly snaked around to embrace you, and put his chin on top of you head. He was sad, simply because you were.

But listening to your thought process made him realize that you were human too, and it opened his eyes to listen to your anxiousness, no matter how much it still hurt.

Uh oh. The feeling was coming back, tugging at bucky, eating him away, making him want to do anything to make you happier.

Tightening his arms around you one last time before releasing you, he blurted, "uh- I'll dye m-my hair."

Your eyes widened. A small smile slowly creeped onto your tear streaked face. "Yo-you'd do that f-for me?" You hiccuped.

Holy shit. Oh man. Bucky would've tattooed his face if it gave you that little glowing smile and hopeful face you were giving to him now.

"Oh doll. You wouldn't believe what I'd do for you."

PART TWO IS NOW UP

[mcyt-imagines]

hi hi ! first off, just a tip if you'd like more requests/asks in general you should prob turn on anon since this is like the only time i've sent a non-anon ask. but anyways, i'm assuming requests are open and i'd like to ask if you would write either just ranboo fluff in general or something like the tommy confession headcanons but w ranboo :D what you've posted so far is great <3

Thank you so much for letting me know! I thought I had anon turned on already, but it’s 100% turned on now! Regarding your request I got a little carried away and wrote both some general fluff and some confession headcanons for Ranboo so this post is a little long... Hope you enjoy! :D

(It’s important to note that these headcanons are a combination of ones pertaining to his Minecraft character in the dsmp and him outside of the dsmp roleplay!)

General Ranboo Fluff

- Dreamsmp Ranboo -

The first time Ranboo cries in front of you is when you confess to him and he is so happy and relieved that you reciprocate his feelings. He even smiles through the pain of his tears as you panic to cover the skin beneath his eyes, so your hands catch his tears to stop the pain.

Ranboo likes to ask if you need any resources from time to time and once you finally give in and answer, he spends the rest of his day trying to collect as much of it as he can. This has led to a few incidents in which you came back to your shared indent in the snowy mountain to find a chest stacked full with polished stone and countless ores. You’ve scolded him but the way he responds with big puppy dog eyes wishing to “just be helpful.” Sets the butterflies caged in your chest free every damn time.

Ranboo in addition to asking you for want you want he is also very observant in noticing what you need. Any tools close to breaking? Brilliant, he’s already got three more of the same tools ready for you to grab when you need it. He also names them using the anvil to some silly super cheesy pet names.

One of his favourite things to do with you is stargaze. You both travel to the top of your snowy mountain and clear out a space free of snow to lie down and simply hold each other. Ranboo has started asking Techno (on the nights you are away) to point out the stars and tell him their corresponding stories. He happily relays all of this information to you in exaggerated detail, looking at you in awe as your expressions change with the twinkling lights above.

Ranboo almost always carries a little umbrella around with him in case it begins to rain. Most of his friends notice and all start to buy him some. He now has a full collection that line his wall just next to the door. It’s those small things that allows him to remember who his real friends are.

Ranboo LOVES having his hair played with. He will fall asleep within minutes of you beginning to tousle his hair as he rests his head in your lap. He may make soft enderman noises, but you don’t dare tell him. Content on keeping that little secret to yourself.

Ranboo has to be kinda careful around snow considering that if it melts it will hurt him. Meaning he has to sit out on any snowball fights that occur. And they occur more frequently than you would think. It usually starts with Phil throwing a rogue snowball at Techno when Phil notices him slumping his shoulders. Which means it doesn’t take long until it’s a full-blown war. You usually find yourself smack bang in the middle of it and have to dive down to avoid getting pummelled in the crossfire. Ranboo will call you over to hide behind Techno’s house. As the onslaught continues between the two. you giggle and commentate over the fierce battle together.

- Outside of Dreamsmp Ranboo - 

Ranboo enjoys watching you whenever you are focused on something. He’s incredibly observant and finds himself mimicking the small little nuances he sees you exhibit. He gets incredibly flustered whenever you notice that he’s picked up on them, but he doesn’t bother to deny it.

Ranboo finds himself staring at you a lot. He doesn’t mean to but he can’t help it. You catch him frequently, “Watching me real closely, hm?” He tries to stutter out an answer to defend himself, but you just smile and tell him it’s okay.

Ranboo finds a lot of comfort in doing ‘domestic’ activities with you. However, one of his personal favourites is when the two of you go out to get groceries together. His mum will give him a small list and he’ll try his best to dawdle around the store whilst swinging your intertwined hands to make the visit as long as possible. It makes him think of a future in which the two of you get to do this every single week and that alone warms his heart.

Ranboo always has to be near you, he doesn’t have to be physically touching you but he prefers to just be stupidly close to you. It always makes you laugh when he sits just close enough to you that you don’t touch, so now he has to do it forever.

Your laugh is one of his favourite sounds. To the point that if you giggle or laugh at something, he will just keep doing it over and over again for as long as you keep laughing at it. Which eventually leads to the both of you red-faced and gasping for air.

Ranboo is a terrible cook. But he tries so hard to follow recipes and they always flop. He also for some reason, cannot attempt cooking without making an utter mess of himself. Whether it’s spilling flour all over himself, getting egg yolk splatter somehow in his hair or just spilling copious amounts of milk on the floor so that he slips. This boy is a walking, talking kitchen DISASTER. So now he can only cook with you supervising him. Which turns out, wasn’t as much of a punishment as it should have been. As your tutelage seems to have slightly improved his cooking skills. However, now you also get flour spilt all over you as well.

Ranboo Confession Headcanons

- Realising he likes you - 

Ranboo denies he has feelings for you at first. Believing that you’re just a good friend whose company he really enjoys. But the more he focuses on your friendship the quicker he realises he would prefer if you were more to him than that.

This thought alone sends him into a little bit of a spiral for a few days. Grappling with the thought of rejection and the guilt he would feel if he ever hurt you.

He spends most of the time grappling with his feelings he continues to try and act as normal as possible around you. You finding out would be his worst nightmare.

Ranboo realises he has absolutely no history in the dating department and desperately needs some guidance. He may ask Phil on a whim who would try his best to give the poor panicked boy some words of wisdom. Ranboo takes the advice to heart immediately, promising Phil he will update him on how his feelings for you turn out.

Ranboo finds himself writing about you in one of his many journals. He finds putting words on the page seems to help clear his mind. He tries to script his confession a few times. Desperately floundering to find the right words, but he always seems to fall short. He usually ends up scribbling all over those pages until you can barely tell someone had even written on them. Hoping to somehow erase the thoughts in the process.  

He even tries drawing you a few times when he finds himself with enough spare time. He doesn’t think they’re any good though. Sure, the sketches look like you, but they don’t make him feel the way you do. When he looks at the page his chest doesn’t tighten because of your beauty, but instead because of the way you’ve made him feel. Which he comes to the sad conclusion is something he simply cannot capture in his words or his drawings. He has to show it through his actions. Not exactly his strong suit. But he’s determined to do right by you. So, he devises a plan.

- Confessing to you - 

This boy plans the whole day down to a t, he has multiple back-up plans just in case his first one falls short.

Ranboo invites you over for lunch. Arriving at his place you notice how clean it is. He spent the last few days cleaning it top to bottom.

You spend a few minutes in the house chatting. You notice Ranboo is on edge almost immediately. Shoulders a pinch too tight, his smiles a little too wide and none of them reach his eyes.

You ask what you’re going to be having for lunch and he reveals a wicker basket from his kitchen. “A picnic!” Your heart warms, “I would’ve brought something if you’d told me beforehand.” He smiles at that, “Exactly. I even cooked without you, you should be proud.” 

He shuffles on his feet a little, wishing to be praised, “We’ll see how the food tastes first, maybe then I’ll tell you how proud I am.” You tease, moving to elbow him lightly. You notice the way his face flushes as you move into his space. His mother appears from upstairs, “Are you two leaving? I could drive you, y’know!” “No thanks mom!!” He is quick to grab your hand and practically drag you out of the house and away from his all knowing mom.

The bus ride is on the longer side and you find yourself feeling brave enough to scoot a little closer to Ranboo. “Hey, is it okay if I?” You gesture between your head and his shoulder, the cute, shocked expression he sends you causes you to grin. “Uh s-sure!” 

You softly press your head against his shoulder, “Thanks, pretty comfy shoulder you got here should’ve asked you to share it sooner.” You tease, nuzzling his shoulder lightly just for a reaction. And you get one alright, his skin goes such a lovely shade of red all the way up to the tips of his ears. You giggle softly, trying your best to hold it in and failing miserably.

You even manage to fall asleep despite your own heartbeat quickening at Ranboo’s closeness. You are tapped awake by him, “Hmm?” You rub one of your eyes knowingly appearing adorable and the way he looks at you makes it all worth it. “It’s our stop soon, we gotta get up.” 

You nod and lazily stand and he follows suit. Only for the bus to brake abruptly, promptly shoving you into his chest. He wraps his arms around you quickly to steady you whilst you desperately cling to the wicker basket, “You okay?” You both mumble to each other before laughing it off and nodding. “Oh crap.” Ranboo grabs your free hand and you both scramble to get to the front of the bus to hop off. Sparks fly up your arm at the extended contact, even as you jump off the bus.

Ranboo happily leads you to a spot he had picked out earlier in the month. A soft patch of grass below a large willow tree that now sways softly in the warm breeze. You set up your carefully packaged feast with haste now that your stomachs are grumbling.

Ranboo forcefully tries to make himself relax knowing you’ve probably noticed his tense state by now. But you choose not to push him on it, taking an educated guess on why he’s so stressed.

You are quick to compliment his cooking skills when he divvies out a freshly baked quiche.  Even though you know his mom for sure did most of the work. It’s the thought that counts. You hope that may snap him out of the stupor he seems to be in. However, no such luck.

“Hey Ranboo, do you want to talk about something?” Ranboo goes into full panic mode. He did not have a plan for you asking something like this. He thought you weren’t confrontational!! You watch as his expression changes rapidly. You look away, “You don’t have to tell me, it’s okay. I just thought you might want to-“ 

He takes one of your hands in his. Why is he doing this??? This isn’t part of the plan at all! “I…” His throat goes dry. All those hours obsessing over what he was going to say to you are sent out the window when he finally meets your eyes.

“I think I like you.” He hasn’t realised he’s even said it until its waaaaaay too late. Your eyes widen, you didn’t think he’d actually admit it to you. You squeeze his hand as you watch his eyes seem to lose focus, “I like you too.” He is silent for several long moments until he starts blinking rapidly, “Huh!?” The look of utter surprise on his face causes you to burst out laughing.

“Wait, wait, wait you’re serious?” He grabs your arm as a grin slowly starts to creep onto his face. “Sure am.” And as you meet his gaze you realise that his grin actually reached his eyes, for the first time in a long while. 

“So, you gonna kiss me now or what?” You tease as his face shines a dark red. “W-well I, uh-“ His stuttering only allows for you to sneak closer and press a firm kiss to his cheek. Somehow, he grows even redder and you sigh pleasantly. “My heart definitely made the right choice with you Ranboo.”

Meanwhile Ranboo is too busy freaking out over the fact that you weren’t even meant to find out he liked you until you were stargazing together later tonight. His plans are utterly ruined! But as you squeeze his hand again to bring his thoughts back into the present, he wonders that perhaps spontaneity isn’t such a bad thing sometimes.

~My ask box is always open if you’ve got any requests or just want to vent about the dreamsmp lore!~

[somethingwritey]

How is the Rangshi long fic coming? Id love an update on ittttt!

Hello! I'm so glad you're still thinking about my Rangshi fic! It's currently around 20k at the moment—definitely getting a bit carried away!

Because you asked, here's another little out-of-context snippet ;)

-----

“Do you think the spirits would mind if I assassinated a world leader?”

Jinpa jerked his head up at the question, risking a glance behind him at her. Kyoshi knew she must be a sight to behold, laying out across the wide saddle and staring up at the darkening clouds. In her hands, she opened and closed a fan in time to her pounding pulse.

“I don’t think that’s listed as an Avatar duty,” Jinpa stammered, thoroughly taken aback by her proposal.

“Bummer.”

Jinpa was quiet for a few moments, no doubt trying to edge around the subject towards her reasoning. “I take it that meeting with the Fire Lord went… poorly?”

Kyoshi propped herself up on her elbows to stare him in the face. She hoped he could read how absolutely stupid that question had been. She’d emerged from the Fire Lord’s palace by stomping, causing tiny earthquakes as she marched over to the stables. That should’ve been indication enough.

“He’s out of control.” Kyoshi shivered—Rangi’s absence making itself very apparent just then; she could always be counted on for a little extra warmth while traveling.

Kyoshi went back to staring at the sky.

Zoryu’s words about the Firebender still echoed in her ears, doing more to chill her than the night air ever could. She wished she could put more distance between Rangi and the Fire Lord, despite being hidden away in Yokoya.

For a terrifying moment, she wondered if Zoryu somehow knew. If he could see the girl in her cotton shift, laid out on the infirmary bed with her hands knotted in the sheets. If he had discovered a way to look at the bruises on her face and the way her breath still rattled slightly whenever she breathed. Maybe this whole meeting had been a distraction, a diversion to take Kyoshi away from the infirmary and Rangi. Maybe, it was too late.

“Jinpa!” Kyoshi felt her heart pounding in her ears. “Fly faster!”

She worked herself up as they flew, imagining horrific scenes of injury and destruction—rivaling the iceberg or North Chung-Ling - only this time, it would absolutely be her fault. If anything happened to Rangi, the Flying Opera Company, even Hei-Ran and Atuat, she would be to blame.

Kyoshi gripped the edge of the saddle, her knuckles turning white from the effort. She watched the ground grow closer and closer as Yingyong spiralled into a descent. Her chest tightened with every drop in altitude, and once, she almost slipped over the edge and plummeted the last several feet to the ground.

“Quiet evening.” Jinpa seemed on the whole unaware of her own personal panic. He landed Yingyong with ease and dismounted, walking around the side of the bison to assist Kyoshi like he always did.

She didn’t wait for the monk to make it over to her. She tumbled from the saddle, falling hard onto the ground and scrambling back up to her feet.

“Kyoshi!” he yelled after her in disbelief.

She didn’t turn around, stumbling towards the infirmary to what she knew would be waiting for her. Blindly, she pushed open the door and tripped over the doorway, panting and gasping for air, to find -

No evidence of violence. No ransom note or bodies or trails of blood. Just Hei-Ran and Atuat sitting in a few chairs with bowls of noodles, with the rest of the Flying Opera Company still bedridden, but looking more vibrant than before. Even Rangi looked, on the whole, unchanged, propped up in bed. Someone had even taken the time to put her hair back up in its usual topknot.

“Well,” Hei-Ran said dryly, taking in Kyoshi’s haggard appearance. “Are you being pursued by wolfbats? Lion vultures? Spider snakes, perhaps?”

Kyoshi’s face flushed red, and she tried hard to catch her breath - smoothing down her skirts to remove the ruffles.

“Did the monk get eaten?” Atuat asked calmly, taking another bite of her noodles. Clearly, the two women were enjoying the joke at Kyoshi’s expense.

Rangi covered her mouth, looking as though she was trying to keep a straight face for Kyoshi’s sake and failing at it. Kyoshi glared at her.

“Not you, too.”

A little snort escaped Rangi’s fingers, and her eyes went wide.

“Some bison ride you must’ve had,” Kirmia ventured, surveying Kyoshi’s windswept state. “What did happen to that Airbender of yours?”

Kyoshi gestured out the door. “Probably unsaddling Yingyong,” she told them all, still somewhat out of breath. “I, uh, just needed to check something.”

“The Fire Lord put you on edge?” Hei-Ran put down her bowl of noodles, staring hard at Kyoshi.

She forced herself to look back calmly. The last thing she wanted was to let everyone know that she’d gotten worked up over some unfulfilled threats. And now that she was here, even Kyoshi could tell how stupid she’d been. The infirmary was the safest place for Rangi right now, surrounded as she was by Hei-Ran and Atuat and unable to make any wrong move the Fire Lord could use to justify an attack.

Kyoshi forced a smile, relaxing her shoulders the best she could. “Nothing of the sort.” She tucked her fans back into her belt. “The meeting was simply to confirm what he already knew. Pretty big waste of time, actually.”

Hei-Ran was still studying her skeptically, probably trying to pinpoint the reason for Kyoshi’s sudden change in demeanor. Kyoshi dared to look over at Rangi again.

Her expression mirrored her mother’s, lips slightly pursed and head tilted to the side. If Kyoshi didn’t want Hei-Ran to discover the true nature of her meeting with Zoryu, she definitely didn’t want Rangi figuring it out.

Rangi’s station meant everything to her, and she took her job very seriously. If she knew that her own Fire Lord was pondering possible ways to strip the girl of her life - or worse, her honor - she would lose it.

Kyoshi had already seen how Fire Nation citizens treated their disgraced ranking officials. Hei-Ran had been pitied, patronized, pet like an animal. If anyone were to take that tone with Rangi, well, Kyoshi couldn’t promise that she would be able to keep her Avatar State in check.

“Care for some noodles?” Atuat gestured to her own bowl, holding it up for Kyoshi to see.

There was no way Kyoshi could turn down food. She hadn’t eaten since… well, Kyoshi couldn’t quite remember the last time she’d eaten, and she could feel Rangi staring daggers at her.

“Yeah,” she smiled at Atuat. “Noodles would be great.”

////

It was three days before Rangi was able to stand.

Atuat worked on her the best she could, trying to heal the internal damage caused by Yun. She told Kyoshi that bits of his earth dagger had broken off inside her wound, causing irritation and leaving a large possibility for infection. It didn’t help that Rangi was a terrible patient.

“I can get up,” she kept insisting. “I’m fine!”

When Atuat finally let her try, Rangi leapt at the opportunity, getting to her feet much too quickly and nearly doubling over from lingering stiffness and pain.

“Careful!” Kyoshi cried, hovering nearby. The outburst earned her stares from both Rangi and Atuat.

When Rangi straightened up again—slower this time—Kyoshi could see the imprint of the bandages under her shift - wrapped generously around her torso like battle armor.

“Are you sure she should be doing this?” Kyoshi asked Atuat, probably only fueling Rangi’s determination. “She’s still got bandages on! What if she starts bleeding again? We can try again tomorrow! Or next week!”

“Kyoshi, what’s your problem?” Rangi narrowed her eyes.

She was being far too overprotective, Kyoshi knew. She should back off. Let Rangi manage her own recovery. But even though it was inviting Rangi’s wrath, Kyoshi didn’t want her Firebender’s stubbornness to impede her healing process.

Rangi needed to take it slow. Make sure she didn’t make things worse with her rush to get better. As much as Kyoshi wanted to see her girl back on her feet, she knew it wouldn’t benefit either of them if it happened too quickly.

That’s what Kyoshi told herself as she watched Atuat support Rangi and instruct her to gently raise and lower her arms - stretching out her muscles. Kyoshi just didn’t want Rangi to overextend herself. To tear open her wound. To hurry an infection along. Her concern was born from love and care, not selfishness.

Or cowardice.

As if to poke holes in her reasoning, Hei-Ran entered the tent, arms crossed. “Jinpa told me your meeting with the Fire Lord ended… abruptly.” She glanced over at Atuat and Rangi for the briefest of moments. “Rangi, straighten your shoulders. Injuries don’t excuse bad posture.”

Rangi huffed, but obediently did as she was told. She respected her mother’s authority, whether she liked it or not.

Kyoshi picked her next words carefully. Lying to Hei-Ran was never a good idea, but neither was letting on just how badly the meeting had actually gone. “I think… the messages of both parties had ample time for sinking in.”

The words could’ve come straight from Yun’s mouth—vague with just the right amount of high-brow language. Maybe she wasn’t a hopeless cause after all.

Hei-Ran seemed surprised by the response as well. “I see. And what message did the Fire Lord impart on you?”

Shit.

Kyoshi tried to think on her feet. “Politics,” she said at last. “The importance of… political relations.”

“Sounds like the stuff Jianzhu used to preach,” Rangi offered, crinkling up her nose at the mention of the departed sage.

Hei-Ran sniffed dismissively at the mention of the man who’d nearly poisoned her to death. Kyoshi wondered inwardly if the woman ever mourned Jianzhu, despite everything. He had once been her close companion, after all.

Every one of Hei-Ran’s old friends were gone, she suddenly realized - swallowing hard. Kuruk. Kelsang. Jianzhu. The once-inseparable gang hadn’t stayed that way for very long. Hei-Ran was the sole survivor.

Killed after hunting dark spirits.

Murdered by Jianzhu.

Murdered by Yun. And me.

What terrible fates had been waiting for the previous Avatar team, often at the hands of each other. Was that what waited for her? For Rangi? For Wong and Kirimia? Was every Avatar doomed to bring failure and annihilation to the people who loved them most?

“Atuat,” she said sharply, turning to look at Rangi who’d made good progress accompanied by the Waterbender. “That’s enough for today.”

“Yes, Avatar.”

As Atuat moved to help Rangi back to bed, Rangi protested - an angry haze settling over her face as she watched Kyoshi move towards the door.

“What?” Rangi twisted in Atuat’s grip, trying to break free, to run after her. “Who let her call the shots around here? Kyoshi, don’t you dare walk away from me! I’m not through talking about this!”

Kyoshi didn’t turn around. She couldn’t.

“Fine! Go clear your head! See if I care!”

And then Kyoshi made it out of earshot.

She would delay Rangi’s recovery as long as she possibly could, drag it out until the spirits themselves were begging the Firebender to get back on her feet. Because at least here in the infirmary, tucked away in Yokoya, she had people to keep her safe. She couldn’t get herself thrown into another life-threatening situation while she was still recuperating from the last one.

Kyoshi wouldn’t be the reason for Rangi’s obliteration.

And neither would Zoryu.

---

more coming soon! my commissions are open (and so is my ask box!)

[buckyownsmylife]

Like we did - John Winchester smut

The one where John hears you touching yourself and calling out his name.

Warnings: masturbation (m,f), the social construct of virginity, p in v, oral sex (f), dirty talk.

A/N: so this is for a request I got a while back! I hope you guys like it!

John’s P.O.V.

Another restless night. That’s what I was expecting when I got back to the bunker after a single dose of whiskey while the boys tried to find someone to go home with. Usually I’d be right there with them, trying my own luck in hopes of getting laid, but not tonight.

Tonight, the only person I wanted to bring back home was already there, but she wasn’t waiting for me.

Shit. I should be in hell for even thinking about her like this. She was Sam’s best friend, after all - young enough to be my daughter. I shouldn’t desire her like I did. And I should definitely not fantasize about her while she was sleeping in the bedroom right next to mine. 

But fuck, I was already doomed anyway. This wouldn’t make a difference in my permanently tainted slate.

Resigning to my fate and hoping that by giving my cock at least some sort of release I’d maybe be able to sleep, I stripped down to nothing and let myself fall down on the bed, staring at the ceiling as I tried to force any remaining guilt to disappear. I deserved this. It had been a lousy, stressful week, and I needed a way to get the tension out. Besides... she would never even know.

My dick throbbed in my fist as I slowly began to jerk myself, in no rush to get to the end as I sorted through the memories that I kept tucked away in a hidden corner of my mind specifically for nights like this one. The shock of meeting her at a run-down dinner, all short skirts and smiles as she shook my hand like I was seventy years old. How she looked with my jacket when I gave it to warm her up after we found her again during a hunt. The little smiles she gave me and the way she looked up at me from under her eyelashes whenever I said something that could be considered suggestive, right before Dean or Sam faked being repulsed by it. The smell of her when she had just showered, the fog from the warm water kind of filled with her, with her essence. I was convinced it was enough to make any living man hard, and if my sons didn’t notice it, it’s because they were dumbasses.

But I was happy that I didn’t have to worry about them taking advantage of the fact that I couldn’t pursue her and ended up dating the girl. I don’t know what I would do with myself - or actually, to them - if I had to deal with seeing my own sons’ hands all over the object of my desires.

In the middle of my walk down pleasure lane, I got so distracted by the feeling of my own fist tightened around my member as I now considered all of the stuff I wished I could do to her, that I barely heard it the first time it managed to slip through the gap in the door. 

The second time it floated around my bedroom though, it made me halt my movements all at once, at first startled to hear someone else in the bunker before realizing just who it was.

Y/N. And by the sounds of it, she was doing the exact same thing as me.

The realization awakened a new wave of desire inside of me, and I had to bite my lip to stop a groan from escaping. If I could hear her, that meant she could hear me too. 

Starting my movements again, I kept them slow enough to still be able to hear anything that might come from the room next door, thinking back on all the times I’d brought someone home and fucked them while thinking of her. Had she heard that too?

“Oh, God.” Sweet Lord, have mercy on my soul. Hearing her moans was one thing, but actual words, coming out in her voice when it was all breathy and whiny like that? I didn’t think I’d be able to keep hearing this without bursting.

I picked up my movements when I heard her whimper before saying another word, but I stopped abruptly when I couldn’t figure out what it was. Was it… Did she fucking moan out “Shawn?”

My heart was pounding as I sat up on the bed, trying to make sense of what I’d just heard. Who the fuck was Shawn? When did she have the time to meet someone ever since she joined us? Or maybe it was someone from her past? Either way, I did not like this at all…

“JOHN!”

This time the word was screamed at such a volume it was impossible to mistake it for anything else. It was my name. My name. She had just cum… screaming my name.

Before I could even realize what was happening, my feet had taken me out of my bedroom and right into hers, and I could only imagine what went through her mind as she tried to fight the post-orgasm haziness to understand what the hell was happening, as I burst through her door completely naked.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

John looked more feral than human as he stared at me, nostrils flared and cock looking painfully hard, but I was still under too much shock to properly react. Besides pulling the covers to hide my body from his gaze, there wasn’t a lot I could do - I wasn’t even sure of what I wanted to do, in the first place.

He looked so hungry, staring down at me completely naked, licking his lips like I was some prized meal he’d been dreaming of tasting. “I can smell your juices,” he commented, and I groaned in embarrassment, but still couldn’t deny the way my entire body tingled, as if calling out to him. 

And when he knelt on the bed, pulling me to meet his lips, that’s when I knew. I’d give him my body, my soul, whatever he wanted to keep getting intoxicated by the taste of his lips on mine.

“You are such a fucking tease, did you know that?” I seriously hoped he didn’t expect me to answer because as his hand trailed down my body, the sheets covering it slipping off of me, his fingers approached my leaking folds and I couldn’t think straight, couldn’t do anything else other than feel the way my clit pulsed in desperate need, like I hadn’t just cum thinking about the very man who was now touching me.

“Been dreaming of having my cock in you for so long,” he whispered against my skin, right when his digit met my throbbing nub, and he swallowed down the whimper I released by forcing my lips to dance with his. “Do you want it, sweetheart? Will you let me fuck you?”

It was so difficult to think with his thumb running circles over my clit, his beard tickling my skin as he rubbed his nose on the crook of my neck, but the question was much too important not to wake me from the spell he was casting on me.

“Y-You want to have sex with me?” John chuckled at my inquiry, that deep, comforting rumble that always made me feel warm inside, but I couldn’t feel relaxed by the familiar sound at that moment.

“How can you even doubt that?” He asked, reaching out to take my hand in his and I didn’t understand why until he was curling my fingers around his hardness, showing me just what he wanted me to do to his erection. Then he took off his hand, leaving me struggling to keep up with the movements he briefly taught me while waiting for my answer.

“B-Because n-no one has ever wanted to before.” The admission came easier than I thought it would, mainly because I was transfixed by my own actions and the member I held so carefully with my sweaty fingers. But then his hands were covering mine, steering me away from my new hypnotizing hobby, calling out for my attention.

“What the fuck do you mean?” I’d been around John for long enough to know that despite the seemingly harsh words, there was absolutely no heat in his tone, only curiosity. But I didn’t know what to say. I figured he’d understood what I meant, just didn’t believe me, and well… What explanation could I give other than the same one that had intrigued him?

When he realized I wouldn’t offer any further clarification, his eyebrows shot up, understanding clear in his features. I could easily hear my hearbeat spiral out of control, scared that this would be a turn off for him, that he wouldn’t want me anymore. I couldn’t even believe that he wanted me in the first place, what the hell would John Winchester see in a little virgin girl, anyway?

“No. There’s no fucking way.” Still, there was no sign of anger or repulse in his voice, only genuine surprise. I remained speechless, looking up at him with fearful eyes, until his arms reached out to embrace and pull me onto his lap. “Fuck, come here. Let me kiss you.”

This time when he pried my lips open to accept his tongue, it was sweeter, even gentle. There was still hunger, it was clear that he wanted me - I could feel his desire in the hard member that was pressed to my navel, instinctively making me grind against him. 

The whimper that escaped my lips had him smiling against my mouth. “You really are innocent, huh? Been driving me crazy all this time, and you had no idea.” A new flood of wetness came and I gasped as I struggled to hold myself on his shoulders, his rough hands forcing me to keep up with the movements I’d been making.

“So fucking beautiful,” he whispered, and I opened my eyes to find him looking at me with an expression that I couldn’t define, an expression that made my heart beat faster than it ever did before. “And you really have no idea, huh?”

I felt inclined to shake my head this time, and his hand cradled my face to caress my cheekbone before his thumb rested against my lips. Instinctively, I opened them to suck it, humming at the taste of his skin, not completely understanding why his sweat tasted so delicious to me.

John’s P.O.V.

I grabbed her face and connected our lips once more, the desire to kiss her far too strong for me to control it. “Don’t know how you’ve managed to remain a virgin,” I commented after we broke apart, grinning at her bashful expression. “But you won’t stay that way for too long. What do you say, hm? Will you let me take you, Y/N?”

The way she perked up at my words was unmistakable. She liked what I was saying, she liked the idea of being mine. I knew it even before she nodded, bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

“Good girl,” I growled, leaning over her to make her release that lip by forcing my tongue inside of her, and I only let her go when my own lungs were devoid of any air. “You’re mine now, darling. And I’m never letting you go.”

She didn’t seem to mind that, but I’d started to grow needy, sitting there with both of us completely naked, making out like two teenagers. So I started touching myself, wanting to relieve some of the tension my member had been accumulating ever since I heard her scream my name.

“Why are you staring, kitten?” The smirk on my face made it clear that I knew what she was so fascinated about, but I still wanted to hear her say it. Despite the pout on her face at my meanness, her pretty eyes were so easy to read. 

She wanted me, just as much as I wanted her.

“I take it you’ve never sucked a dick before, huh?” She shook her head but reached out to touch me, and I groaned at feeling her soft hand encircling my member. “God, you’re such a little angel and a fucking tease at the same time.”

A whimper escaped her lips, and that’s when I realized this sweet, innocent girl got aroused by my dirty ass mouth. “Oh, sweetheart… We’re gonna have so much fun together.” I kissed her once more, my hand wrapping over hers to stop her jerking movements.

“I can’t hold myself back for long enough to teach you how to suck me off, darling. But we’ll always have time for that tomorrow.” A pout still on her beautiful face, she still nodded. “And fuck, I really need to eat that pretty little pussy. Lay back for me, kitten.”

She hesitated for a bit, looking back at her own bed before slowly dropping against the mattress, her legs still over my own. “Open those up. Let me see my meal.” She moaned out loud at my order, but it wasn’t clear if it was the idea of being seen as something for me to eat or the tone that got to her.

“So fucking beautiful,” I whispered, running my knuckles over her spread lower lips before using my digits to open her up to my gaze. I knew she was getting embarrassed with my curiosity, the way she fumbled over the bed made that pretty obvious, but I wanted to explore her through every sense I had.

So in went one finger, until I was knuckle deep inside of her, and the way her breath hitched was just so adorable that I had to chuckle. “I know, I know…” My other hand went to keep her legs spread, but also caress the inside of her thigh, hoping to calm her down. “I bet it already stretches you more than you’re used to, hm? Cute little girl.”

Every single word of my last sentence was punctuated with a harsher thrust of my finger, but once I was done talking, I returned to the previous gentle, soft strokes. And then I leaned down to finally get a taste of her.

“Oh God…” I moaned against her pussy, not quite believing just how sweet she was. “You are delicious, darling. I’m gonna eat you whole.” With my mouth open wide, I could encompass the entirety of her little cunt, and it brought me endless pleasure to see just how wrecked I could make her with a few swipes of my tongue.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I couldn’t really fathom the amount of pleasure I was receiving. It was like nothing I’d felt before - beyond anything I could have provided for myself, above my wildest dreams.

The moans that left my lips sounded almost foreign to my own ears, and they seemed more like strangled cries than those beautiful melodic sounds I usually heard in porn. It was hard not to compare myself to the little I knew about the world of lust, but it was even harder to care about any deficiencies I may have when John Winchester was eating me out like I was his last meal on Earth.

Another finger slowly made its way inside of me, and I screamed -  more due to the surprise than the stretch. Still, despite the smugness in his gaze, John asked from between my legs, “Do you want me to stop?”

I only realized he was mocking me after I had already blindly reached out for his locks, keeping his face against my cunt, my legs wrapped around his head. “No, no, don’t stop.”

He obliged, keeping his fingers slowly moving in and out while his tongue lapped my wetness, and I could feel the fire rising inside of me. “No biting your lip, kitten.” I hadn’t even realized that was what I had resorted to do, in my efforts to keep my moans in. “I want to hear you.” 

And I tried, I really did. But there were already so many new emotions I was being exposed to, it was hard just letting myself go. And he noticed it. I witnessed the way his eyes darkened, the satisfied smirk disappearing to leave a hungry and terrifying expression on his face.

“You’re usually such a good girl for me… Always following all of my orders, never even questioning me once. What happened?” A shake of my head was the only answer I could provide, hoping my pleading look was enough to get him to take some mercy on me.

But I knew John Winchester, and he wasn’t a merciful man.

“I want to hear you whining for me, sweetheart,” he explained, the hand that wasn’t occupied with my pussy traveling up my body to squeeze a breast before it plucked my lower lip from my teeth, and I choked on his fingers when they buried themselves in my mouth.

Just his confession was enough to have me clenching around his digits, but it still wasn’t enough. I was too tense, the weight of the situation sitting heavily on my lower belly, where all the pleasure seemed to concentrate. I was having trouble breathing, and it felt like the climb towards that high was never-ending.

“Relax for me, hm? I need you to trust me.” I was squirming when his voice reached me, acting like an anchor, bringing me back to the reality of the moment instead of leaving me afloat on the foreign sea of sensations I was exploring. But his words shocked me to open my eyes and meet his, and that’s when I realized just what he meant.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he continued, and I knew. I was never afraid when he was around, and even now, with so many different feelings coursing through me, I knew there was nothing to fear. Especially since he was the one gifting them to me.

“I trust you,” I admitted, and the second his eyes softened, sparkling with something that resembled love, I relaxed in his arms, finally allowing the waves of bliss to crash and take me with them.

Ironically, after my muscles went lax, they tensed before they could relax again. That sea of pleasure, I was now drowning on it - and I never wanted to come up for air.

That is why as soon as I was able to speak again, I pulled on John’s hair once more, desperately pleading, “Please… Fuck me…” The sight of my wetness dripping from his chin just added to the need that seemed to only grow exponentially inside of me. “John, I need you!” I confessed, and that was all he needed to climb up my body and rub his member against my sensitive clit, making me twitch under him. 

Surprisingly, for as much as it hurt when he started to slide his length inside of me, it wasn’t a terrible pain. It was a stretch, and at first, I was sure I’d never get used to it, but there was so much to be excited about, I could only focus on the good.

Like the weight of his body on top of mine. The way he looked deep inside my eyes like he was seeing the most beautiful work of art. The feeling of his skin underneath my fingers, as I clawed on his back, in need of something to anchor me to this experience.

“You feel so fucking good.” Once again, it was his voice that brought me home, making me realize just how connected I felt to the man inside of me at that precise moment.

And then he started moving, and I just lost myself to him.

John’s P.O.V.

I couldn’t control myself, and I couldn’t decide on what to focus on: the feeling of her tight walls rhythmically clenching around me, the warmth of her sweaty skin under my fingertips, or the taste of her under my tongue as I nipped on her jaw, my fingers rubbing her nipples until they were but tight buds.

“Virgin little pussy but you take me so well.” By now, the words left my mouth before I could even process them, taken over by the passion I felt for the woman underneath me.

“Hold tight, darling,” I asked when I realized her instinctively jutting her hips up to meet mine, a clear sign of her discomfort beginning to fade and giving place to strong, untamed passion.

When her arms wrapped themselves around my shoulders, I picked up the pace, still trying to remain gentle as I searched for her sweet spot each time I bottomed out inside of her. She was still so innocent, and so sensitive. It didn’t take long at all to bring her to another orgasm, and when she reached that high, I couldn’t stop mine anymore.

I came so fucking hard a roar escaped my chest as my arms trembled with the strain to keep myself up so I wouldn’t just suffocate her. But when I was still trying to come back to Earth, it was her hands that guided me to heaven, cradling my bearded cheeks as I slowly tried to control my breathing.

“I’m gonna keep you chained to the basement, kitten,” I warned her, becoming completely hypnotized by her sweet little giggle when she threw her head back to laugh. “No one’s going to get near you again.”

[tobiosmilktea]

umpah umpah! smau

↪︎ bokuto x f!reader x iwaizumi

[015] — the half of it!

masterlist | prev. | next

a/n: keep in the mind that y/n doesn’t have a faceclaim so that instagram photo is not a visual representation

also this wasn’t proofread and lowkey i’m not sure if this entire chapter even makes sense. read with caution lmao

the night went by in a flash with the second hour passing just as quickly as the first one. you were grateful that there wasn’t a single ounce of awkwardness drenching the lighthearted atmosphere of the restaurant when bokuto arrived fashionably late—rather that’s what he told you and the rest of the ddd team when he slid into the booth right across from you.

however, if bokuto was truly being honest, he actually made it right on time, yet something in him had held him back longer. he probably took a good fifteen minutes sitting in his car as if he was waiting for a sign to fucking walk in already. bokuto would have been lying to himself if he didn’t believe (even for a second) that he was absolutely terrified to see your face. no matter how much he wanted to see you again, the mere thought of your past relationship with iwaizumi had his knuckles turning alabaster as he gripped his steering wheel.

the athlete scoffed at his state that was so unbelievably wrapped around this idea that happened such a long time ago. admittedly, why in the hell would thee bokuto koutarou of the msby black jackals be hung up over a girl from high school anyway? he wanted to laugh at himself because akaashi was right.

it simply didn’t matter anymore.

or at least that’s what bokuto kept affirming in his head over and over and over again as he marched himself into that restaurant. there was confidence in the way he approached the nearly filled booth, yet the moment you shifted your eyes towards him, it all melted into oblivion.

goddammit, why did akaashi force him to sit across from you? it’s almost like he knew exactly how to torment both you and bokuto just by asking sugawara to scoot closer to the other side of the bench.

surprisingly, bokuto can handle his alcohol and knows how to moderate his drinking habits, yet tonight was his only exception. with you constantly throwing him knowing glances that reminded him of your shared relationship, it was his only driving force that kept him throwing his head back with shot after shot of soju.

by the time the entire group was all set and done, everyone was considerably drunk. it was kaori, yuko, and bokuto who were so severely wasted that it honestly forced you and the rest of the group to hold back in order to get everyone home safe and sound.

semi, who was sitting next to you, stands up first as the bill is handed back. “kaori and i will head out first. you guys get home safe, okay?”

you nod, waving ddd’s musician goodbye as he helps a tipsy kaori from stumbling over herself.

“i guess i should get going too,” sugawara adds in a beat later, motioning to yuko with her eyes closed and rested against the wall right behind her. “i know damn well she’s going to make me carry her ass up to her apartment.”

“bye, stay safe.” akaashi mutters as the four exit the restaurant, leaving you, him, and a drunken bokuto.

you held back an amused chuckle as akaashi gave you a look satiated in aversion. you couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit guilty knowing that he’s going to be the one struggling trying to take bokuto back home safe despite knowing damn well it was going to happen sooner or later as the night of drinking continued.

akaashi let out a sigh, “well... guess i should take this one home too, shouldn’t i. you can go home first since you live close.” he offers, but you quickly decline.

“no, it’s fine.” you shook your head as you stood from your seat, “since i live so close, we could try and get him sobered up a bit so it’s easier for you to take him home.”

“are you sure?” asked akaashi as you gathered your things.

nodding, you make your way around the table to help bokuto stand. “yeah, i kind of feel bad. i don’t know if you noticed, but something was up with him today.”

perhaps akaashi was glad you didn’t notice the way his expression suddenly changed. he didn’t want to pry too much into your personal life or your past, but he knew damn well that the secrets need to be told. you two have been good friends since high school, yet it wasn’t until you and akaashi started working together with love cemetery did you two become so close. it’s never his business to be so caught up in whatever web you somehow got caught in literally years after everything happened, yet here you guys were.

he couldn’t stand and watch his best friend potentially hurt because of your in ability of communicate. granted, akaashi knew how personal those feelings were to you with no way to express it.

that’s the entire reason why you started love cemetery anyway—your both your relationships with iwaizumi and bokuto ended so abruptly, if you thought about it hard enough, there was no distinct closure despite ending on good terms with both of them. this, this sense of blurred lines of your webtoon and your past relationships were honestly just a coping mechanism for you.

how badly did akaashi just wanted to sit you down and talk your head on straight, but once again:

it wasn’t his business.

“alright, then.” akaashi sighs, helping you lead bokuto into his car. “let’s go.”

there was a special sense of silence in the air that tensed the moment akaashi started the car, engine humming in the background of the radio on low volume. the bright downtown tokyo lights simmered down as they reached the suburban areas of the city, filling you with a sense of serene peace as fatigue was slowly catching up to you as well.

a weight fell on your shoulder then as the car pulled into a stop. bokuto’s white hair brushed against your cheek as you looked down on him, pushing the man up and towards akaashi who had opened the door opposite from you.

the volleyball player muttered something incohesive beneath his breath as his weighted eyes attempted to open. bokuto had no idea where he was, but at this point, he couldn’t care less. he wanted to just crash into bed and sleep until the afternoon.

akaashi let out a grunt as he slung his best friend’s arm over his shoulders, following just behind you as the three of you walk up to your apartment. you threw a glance over your shoulder, watching your poor friend struggling to get the beefy athlete up the last flight of stairs.

an amused laugh left your lips, “are you sure you don’t need any help?” you offered as granted, you did offer to help get bokuto up to your apartment only for akaashi to say no. at this point, his struggle was on him.

“just hurry and unlock the door,” akaashi grumbles.

“right...” you mutter, reaching into your bag for your house keys only to feel a buzzing in your pocket.

“shit.” you say under your breath, forcing your seeping thoughts and increasing heart rate back as you opened the door.

your exes seeing each other at work was a different story. considering that neither of them knew of you past relationship with the ladder, it surely wouldn’t be a problem, but this was literally one of the last things you wanted to happen tonight. like seriously, doesn’t finding a drunk athlete that happens to be from the volleyball team you work for bad enough? surely having bokuto be in your apartment wouldn’t help your case either.

you stepped back into your living room, swallowing the bundle of nerves down your throat as bokuto seemed to regain enough conscious to form coherent words.

“kaashi~” he whined, voice muffled by the pillow he wrapped his muscular arms around. “i’m hungry.”

“we literally just had korean barbeque dude,” his best friend scoffs. 

“we literally just had korean barbeque dude,” his best friend scoffs. 

“we literally just had korean barbeque dude,” his best friend scoffs. 

“we literally just had korean barbeque dude,” his best friend scoffs. 

“okay, and?” bokuto pressed on, causing akaashi to roll his eyes.

“fine,” he deadpans before asking, “what do you want?”

the volleyball player smirked slightly, “ramen.”

akaashi stands up then, giving you an unenthused look as you approached him. you feigned a look of shock from appearing on your expression as you brushed past, frustration coating your very figure. this was not good.

a sigh left your lips as your brain scavenged desperately for a plan. at some point, the truth had to be revealed sooner or later whether you liked it or not. you just didn’t like how they both had to find out this way. 

you set the water upon the table in front of your sofa, setting the medicine gently upon bokuto’s palm. 

bokuto always thought you had the softest hands. he would often find excuses just to hold your hand back when you two used to date. it would always make him feel safe and warm, yet nowadays he still yearned to feel that sense of familiarity again—even if it meant it was the last time he would ever get to.

“thank you,” he says.

“yeah, no problem.” the words left your mouth softer than you had anticipated when bokuto made eye contact with you—familiar and warm as if you were home.

you didn’t know what to think then as you placed yourself next to him, yet still leaving space for comfort. bokuto looked so cute and vulnerable in such a state, how in the hell were you supposed to kick this guy out of your apartment?

the thought spiraled in your head. surely there had an excuse conjured somewhere up in your head. you cleared your throat, “never thought you’d be a lightweight.”

your words left your mouth in a hurry. it seemed a bit unnatural but at this point with bokuto wasted, you barely tipsy yet panicked that iwaizumi is on his way, and akaashi not knowing a single thing besides deliriously making ramen for his best friend—nothing about tonight was natural.

bokuto let out a playfully offended scoff, “i’m not! the alcohol was just strong tonight...”

“whatever you say, kou.” you mused with a smile that left bokuto’s heart racing.

your lips looked nice at the moment. with the dim florescent lights casting shadows upon your face, he wondered whether or not it was a good idea being this dangerously close to you. hell, now that you two were alone and akaashi was preoccupied this would be the perfect place to ask you the questions that had be plaguing his mind all day. that would have been the correct option, yet something within him wanted different with the way bokuto’s gaze flicked down to your lips.

you couldn’t help but notice the way he would look at you, deep brown eyes that would send red heat to your cheeks until it reached your ears. you weren’t exactly sure if he was going to do anything, but it wasn’t like you entirely opposed anyway.

bokuto cleared his throat suddenly as he pulled you both out of your trances. 

“can i ask you a question?”

your eyebrows furrow slightly with a tilt of your head, “hm?”

curiously filled you as hesitance drenched bokuto’s thoughts, drying out his mouth as he gulped his drunken nerves. “i know this is from a long time ago,” he starts, not even having enough courage to look at you. “but how come you never told me about your past relationships when we first started dating?”

bokuto’s words sobered him up—he needed to be i order to even comprehend an answer from you whether or not it would suffice. to no surprise did it catch you off guard either. as your eyes has widened into saucers, heart thumping against your ribcage, palm perspiring, all while you searched for a plausible answer in your head. you weren’t entirely sure if you should panic at the chance that bokuto did in fact find out about you and iwaizumi, or if he was just entirely curious.

it certainly didn’t matter if she lied, either, they were bound to find out now that both of them were in your life regularly and they’ve both read love cemetery, they are bound to find out sooner or later. bokuto and iwaizumi had all the clues placed out in front of them, it was just a matter of time when they would piece them all together and connect the dots.

you let out a shaky sigh. the best way to answer this was to be as calm as possible knowing bokuto was drunk and you weren’t entirely sure how he would react. “i just didn’t think think it was an important detail,” you mutter. it was neither a lie or the entire truth.

“i feel like it would’ve made sense to mention it at least.” says bokuto, “i mean... what happened to telling each other everything back then?”

god, you really didn’t want to have this conversation right now, especially when akaashi could easily walk back in. “i’m sorry that i didn’t tell you, but it’s not like it’s relevant now, is it? it’s been years.”

“it’s still very much relevant, you know.”

“how so?”

but before bokuto could part his lips to answer, the doorbell rings, sending a sharp echo throughout the apartment. your body immediately stood up, flinching and completely grimacing at the idea that both your pieces are only a few meters apart.

you couldn’t here anything then as you made your way to the door. your the beat of your beat was so loud that you swear bokuto could hear it quicken as you turned the door knob.

capturing your bottom lip between your teeth, you cracked the door open slightly with only your head peaking out through small opening.

“hey, (y/n),” the sound of his voice sent shivers down your spine, yet it still ended up comforting you more than expected. you just hoped bokuto couldn’t hear who it was.

“hi, iwaizumi.” you say almost in a harsh whisper.

you cursed yourself internally—of course out of all people, this would happen to you. you couldn’t help but grumble at the fact that surely this was some sort of karma life was giving you a universal punishment. whatever it was, you prayed it would end soon. maybe it should just put you out of your misery...

iwaizumi gave you a charming smile, the moonlight absolutely doing wonders as it casted shadows upon his chiseled face. seriously, can this guy get even more handsome?

you licked your lips absentmindedly at the thought of this as iwaizumi held up your belongings. “i brought your things! sorry for coming by so late, i just wanted to see you tonight.”

crimson red heat decorated your cheeks at his words. your thoughts were going hundreds of miles an hour just by your hands slightly brushing against each other as he handed you your jacket.

“thanks,” was all you could say.

it was calm and light as relief was almost near knowing you two were about to say your goodbyes. yet as fate always liked to give you the short end of the stick, footsteps clambered from behind you.

“(y/n), who’s there?” bokuto’s voice calls out to you rather loudly, causing your eyes to practically jump out of it’s sockets the moment the athlete pulled the door wide open. at the sudden jerky movement, bokuto revealed himself to a surprised athletic trainer.

his eyes blinked together multiple times as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. you see, iwaizumi has always been a rational person when it came to misunderstanding and he would never ever jump to conclusions but at this rate, what else could he really assume seeing his ex-girlfriend and his coworker together late at night?

there was a boiling limbic inkling within iwaizumi that he wasn’t know what it was composed up. it was like a mix of annoyance and unsolicited anger that he couldn’t help but feel his muscles tense and his hands tighten into fists.

the silence that ensued you three was so violently loud that you didn’t know what to do. never in a million years would you have ever imagined that this is how it would all end.

this is how everything would come crumbling down.

fun facts! —

while bokuto was in the parking lot hesitating to go in, satomi was hyping him up the entire time

meanwhile satomi and iwaizumi were actually still at work during all this

satomi thought it was a good chance of alone time with him, but the entire night iwaizumi was hurrying to get his work done so he could see (y/n)

taglist: (closed!)

@moonlightaangel @elianetsantana @k4tiepie @memorableminds @wheeshllumi @suhkusa @kitsunetea @airybby @noeminemi @truly-a-snitch @keichan @cosmicmermaid25 @bap-kingdom @saturnfarie @kwdflash @ennos-baby @dinablossom @chrisrue15 @seikamuzu @nestlevanilla @chasekudo @yammmers @pixcldust @iwaizluv @h0ngh0ngh0ng @emogril @tiredandkindaoverworked @tsumue @underratedmage @bokutosuwus @kellesvt @unstableye @oh-tapeworm @scrappyfka @alittlebitofrain @mxngy @tpwkatsumu @atsumuwoah @macchiatoast @dicerawr @kageyamasbabygorl @some-random-stranger-007 @vhskenma @wntrmn @little-plants @stargirlara @kissungjae @je11yfishwriter @sbaepsae @apollochjld

[sup-hoes-its-me]

Fine Line (Kakashi x Reader)

A/N: hey. Friends to lovers (the only trope i respect) You’re about to marry someone else, a prince from another village in an attempt to save relations with said village, only kakashi stands in the way of that, and everyone knows. 

Also, i know kakashi would never do this in reality, but gosh is it romantic to imagine

Word count: 5400

“Y/N, you really need to sleep,” Kakashi sighed, leaning on his fist which sat on the thin, flimsy armchair beside her bed.

She hadn’t slept properly for weeks now, day after day only falling asleep at random hours of the day, naps in the afternoon and a half hour of shut eye in the early morning. She ate sporadically, and her schedule had admittedly started to interfere with her friend’s. Kakashi found himself in her apartment, awake the majority of the nights trying to calm her down. 

But nothing was going to help this situation. Tsunade had decided already, after Y/N had hesistantly agreed. It wasn't as if this marriage was forced, but it certainly wasn’t ideal.

The woman never really imagined herself marrying at all, but if she had, she always dreamed it would be out of love for the other person, someone who would match her perfectly like a puzzle piece, essentially, someone who would complete her. 

Instead, she had been hastily shoved into an arranged marriage with a man she and Kakashi guarded on one of their missions. He was the wealthy crown prince in the Land of Frost. He was kind enough, and he respected her wishes when it came to the proposal, giving Y/N a month to decide whether she was ready to be wed to such a man.

He promised her the entire world. Jewels, clothes, children, a palace in which to live the rest of her days, anything she could possibly need he would have servants at her beck and call.

It hadn’t seemed like the worst idea at all, and Y/N shortly considered it. It wasn’t until Tsunade heard about it that things became serious. 

The relationship between the two lands was falling apart, and this was a last resort, she had said. It wouldn’t mean she could never see her friends again but meetings would be scarce, and she was positive he wouldn't let her train and go on the occasional, non-dangerous mission. It would be as if she were abandoning her entire life, she realized as the weeks passed after the engagement was set. 

And so the letter was sent back to the Land of Frost, and abruptly, Y/N L/N found herself engaged to be married in 3 months time. It seemed surreal, only having 90 days practically, to enjoy her normal life and prepare for an entirely new world. She hadn’t known anything else other than the way of shinobi, nor had she adjusted to other cultures. The Leaf was her home, and the thought of leaving it broke her heart.

For the first time in her life, it seemed she was petrified. Sure, there were times when she felt like everything was set up against her, that the enemy might win, but she hadn’t felt so hopeless and lost either. There always seemed to be a light at the end of the tunnel. 

Not this time. 

“Please, just finish your tea and rest. You’re wasting away,“ he told her again, whispering in a soft tone only the two of them could hear. She was in the medical ward for the night, low blood sugar bringing her in this time. The dangerous combo of not sleeping or eating had set her body into a panic. She was so weak.

As she sipped the tea she sighed, feeling that sting of warmth run down her throat and bring some feeling to her empty, weak stomach. She couldn’t look at the man sitting beside her, it would only bring her pain, she decided. How could she face him? She was leaving him after all this time. 

It had been decades since they were apart for longer than the standard mission time. He was always there right alongside her. They grew up on the same street in the same complex. They attended the academy together, fought in the war side by side, travelled the world as jounin just trying to make their way through the twists and turns of village politics. She felt like shit having to leave him behind. It wasn’t like her new husband was going to let her have weekly visits to her old friend, a man who was closer than anyone else she knew. It wasn’t plausible. 

Slowly, she had realized that one day would be the last day she could hug Kakashi, that she could look up to him and hear his calm tone telling her it would all be okay, that he would never leave her behind, that he would always be there to protect her as long as she did the same for him. It wasn’t going to be like that anymore, and it often brought tears to her eyes in the late of night in her apartment, tears saturating her pillows and face swelling from the suffocated sobs. One day would be the last time she saw him, and it just hurt so badly. At times she found herself gasping for air, so terrified she couldn't find breath..

So, no, Y/N couldn't bring herself to face Kakashi. Maybe if she distanced herself little by little as the few months went on, it would be easier leaving. Leaving everyone behind. Kakashi, Gai, Kurenai, all the students she had grown to care about over the years. To spend her last days avoiding the people she would miss so dearly seemed like a waste of time and irrational, but it was the only thing that seemed reasonable in her confused mind.

“I can’t,” she replied softly, setting her mug down on the table to the other side of her bed. “How do you expect me to sleep?”

He shook his head in disapproval, his arms crossed over his chest as he leant back in his chair. He replied, “I don’t know. Just close your eyes and it’s bound to happen. You could at least try.” His suggestion was pretty useless, and he knew that. Hell, the amount of times he stayed awake when she begged him to sleep, he should have known he wasn’t going to get anywhere.

“And if I don’t want to?” 

He sighed, his eyes rolling to the ceiling, as he muttered, “What is your prince going to say when he sees you with black eye bags and cheeks sunken in?” He felt disgusted, hearing those words leave his mouth. Not only was she to be married to someone she barely knew, but she had to impress him. She had to change herself to fit his narrative of a woman, stereotypically beautiful, effortless yet hard working at the same time. He felt sick to his stomach thinking about that prince, and the ploy Tsunade had put up in the way of arranging them together.

Absolutely sickened.

She peered over at him and frowned. “Between you and me, I don’t give a fuck what that guy thinks,” she whispered, her eyes resting on the doorway to make sure no late night nurses were walking through. “I wish he would take one look at me and break the engagement himself.”

“You don’t have to do this, Y/N.” His eyes now drawn on her, watching as she took another long sip of her tea, which he now suspected was spiked with something Gai had given her on his way out, something to numb the pain she was feeling. It burned her throat so good, and dulled her mind just enough to ease her. The Green Beast understood her desire to help the village, but he also sided with Kakashi in that she could change her mind at any point in time. 

Even Gai knew she wasn’t happy, everyone fucking knew.

“Oh, but I do, Kakashi. I don’t really have a choice at this point.”

“You do. Don’t let a spoiled prince take away your happiness,” he argued, his face turned just the slightest shade of red at his frustration. He wanted to wring this prince by the neck for what he had done, for the tough situation Y/N was put in. Either save the relationship between two nations or be selfish and do nothing. “Please, Y/N.”

A part of him liked to believe that his begging was simply to save his friend from a horrible fate, that he was just doing what a normal person would do and defend someone who seemed so helpless, only that wasn’t it. It was never that in the first place. He wouldn’t have been the one to fall apart in Tsunade’s office when she told him that the pair were engaged, screaming profanities at the Hokage who only looked up at him with pity in her eyes. And he certainly wouldn’t have run all the way across the village to her apartment and bang on the door until she opened. He wouldn’t have left her room that night with a tear about to fall from his eye, and vomit coming up in his throat. He wouldn’t have thrown up in the middle of the street that night. Not if he was simply protecting a friend.

He knew that the reason this hurt him so badly is because he loved her. He always knew there was something there, but there was never any reason to act on his feelings. They had all the time in the world it seemed, just the two of them soldiering on in this boring life. Telling her how he felt, how much he wanted her...that wouldn’t have changed a thing between them other than made things just that much more difficult.

Now, Kakashi found himself regretting everything. If only he had said something before, maybe she could have stayed here in the Leaf with him, and all her other friends who had become her family over these decades of struggling together. If only he had stepped up and been brave. He never faltered in the face of fear; why did it have to be the only time he did that screwed him over.

“Kakashi, I can’t go back on the engagement. It would cause us to lose one of our greatest allies,” she told him calmly, but her heart was once again beating too fast for comfort. She found herself falling into that downward spiral of hopelessness once again. She looked over at him with a quiver in her lip and tears bubbling up at her waterline, words softly leaving her mouth, so quiet he almost missed it. “I was fitted for a wedding gown two days ago. I-It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. He asked me to pick what flowers I want at the ceremony.”

“Ah, I see.”

“All I wanted to say was wilted fucking roses, thorns and all. Weeds and empty branches.”

“Just run away if you have to, run for long enough that he forgets about you,” Kakashi suggested, a bit of plea in his voice for her to listen to anything, anything that would get her away from that man, this horrible fate. “You don’t need to do this. Tsunade can make it work.”

“Kakashi.” Y/N paused, biting her lip. Her head was beginning to buzz from the tea she was drinking, one in which Gai added more than a bit of sake to numb the pain. Something the nurses at this godforsaken hospital refused to give her. She gazed over at him with a glaze over her eyes, her cheeks draining of any last bit of color she had in them.

“Yes?”

“I don’t want to marry him,” she confessed, that much was obvious. “I wish I was marrying you instead.”

“Y/N-”

“I’ve never even looked at someone twice because of you. I’ve only ever wanted you, for fuck’s sake.” she bit out harshly, her voice raising with every word. Her eyes were trailed painfully on his own, glaring fire into him. "All these years, all these long, painful years, it's always been you, Hatake."

Just as he was about to say something in response, she had leaned over and pushed him away from her. He opened his mouth to get out a word, but nothing came out. Her angry shouts filled his ears, and he found himself falling. He stood from his chair and backed away from her bed.

“Just get out, Kakashi. It doesn’t matter how the fuck I feel anymore. I should have never said anything. At this point, I'm just tormenting myself. Just get out,” she hissed. “Get out, get out, get out.” Her shouts were painful to hear, but he understood. He wasn’t angry, unlike the girl with the overwhelming emotions bubbling out from the ears. His heart raced at her words, at the rushing emotions flowing through his veins.

He walked out the door without saying goodbye, just hearing her crying behind him while he pushed open the cracked door. As he shut the door behind him, he noticed a particular pink haired girl standing against the wall. She stared at him in shock, having heard the outbursts from the woman in the room who she was just about to check up on to make sure vitals were okay. She heard the confession, and she heard the subsequent backlash. She heard the parts about Y/N not wanting to marry the prince as well. 

It wasn’t exactly well known that she resented the engagement, but it was fairly obvious if you spent enough time with the kunoichi, which Sakura surely did being a medical nin.

“Sensei, are you okay?”

“Yes, Sakura, I’m fine,” he breathed, finding himself at a loss for words and lungs utterly useless.

Sakura grabbed onto his arm, peering up at him with just an ounce of determination in her eyes. “You need to convince Y/N-sensei to break the engagement.”

“I know.”

“Did you talk to Lady Tsunade.”

“She won’t listen to me.”

“Then I’ll try to talk to her too. She's not a cruel woman, but she is set on this engagement. She believes it will unite the two villages for hundreds of years. Y/N is one of our best and brightest after all.” Sakura told the man in the darkness of the hospital halls, her soft voice echoing on white walls. “I know it doesn’t seem like things will work out, and maybe Lady Tsunade won't listen. But you have to convince Y/N to stand up for herself."

He nodded, but it felt hopeless even pretending that things would change.

“You two were meant for each other. You can’t just give up on that now.”

And with that, he left down the hall, waving goodbye to his student. He didn’t know  how exactly he was going to do this, work out this mess in his favor, but it was worth a shot trying. If he didn’t, it would mean losing the love of his life. He couldn’t lose anyone else, not this time. 

Please, just not this time.

________________________

Despite being dressed in all white, Y/N felt anything but pure. She had been dolled up the entire morning by her friends and the young girls of the village. Ino, Hinata and her sister, and a handmaiden sent from the Land of the Frost to prepare her for her wedding that day. Her dress was embroidered with small snowflakes and wisps of silver and baby blue details. 

Already she felt as if she were being taken from her village and her heritage with all this decoration from the other land. Not to mention she would be married off somewhere foreign and cold, alone without the comfort of her family and friends here in the Leaf. The only people to be escorting her to the other village would be the handmaid, a couple guards from the Frost, and Kakashi.

Her final request was allowing him to come with her just for the wedding. And maybe it was cruel, to have him there as both their hopes for a happy ending dissolve, but she needed him. There was no way she would make it through the wedding without him standing to the side supporting her, even if the support was purely obligatory.

She never said anything to Tsunade, in fear of being rejected or patronized for changing her mind. Instead. She just waited for the fateful day.

Y/N stood at the gates,  arms crossed over her chest as she stared out into the woods, a white and silver carriage sitting before her with 3 horses standing tall ahead. This was the life waiting for her across the boundary, in the faraway land she would never recognize as home. It would be her last day in the village for a long time, at least until she was allowed to leave. Still, her life wouldn’t be the same ever again. She never dreamed of living in a world where she was forced to be a housewife, alone in a giant house without her companions, without the rush of the hunt on missions, without feeling the chakra flowing thickly through her veins.

She’d said her goodbyes. Cleared out her apartment, leaving the majority of her belongings behind with friends and family. She wouldn’t be needing it where she was going. 

“Kakashi?” she asked softly, peering over her shoulder at the man leaning against the gate, a book in his hand, the other tucked into his pocket. He wore nice clothing. Better than usual, at least. He wasn’t an honored guest, honestly, he wasn’t truly invited, she was just bringing him along upon her own stubbornness. He looked nice, dressed up like he cared today. 

He lifted his eyes and hummed in reply, obviously lost in his own thoughts as well.

“I feel like I should have stayed longer in the village, to say goodbye. Our friends...Gai and all our students, Iruka...I feel like I'm just abandoning them,” she told him. “I just don’t think I’m ready to say goodbye. I guess I just don’t know how to say goodbye, a real goodbye. I’ve never felt like this- like I need to put so much thought behind a farewell because honestly, I’ve never felt like it would be my last one.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I have never intentionally left someone knowing that I’ll never see them again. It fucking sucks that I’m standing here knowing I’ll never see you guys again after this. I can’t accept it like that though. I keep thinking that after this is all over life will be back to normal, but it won’t.”

“I know. We should have tried harder to get you out of this mess. I could have said something-”

“It’s not your fault. I-I shouldn’t have agreed in the first place. I only agreed because I didn’t think I had a chance with you, so what would it matter leaving to be with someone else,” she blurted out, her truths coming out in heavy waves, “It would make me less lonely, I thought, even though it’s clearly done the opposite. I’ve never felt more impending loneliness than I do now.”

He sighed, shutting his book and stuffing it into his jacket pocket. It was like him to bring his romance novellas on a trip like this. She wanted to smile at his hobby, but her heart felt too heavy in her chest to even lift her lips. “I’ll see you again, Y/N. One day, I’ll get the chance to go back there and see you, as long as you let me in.”

“I don’t want it to just be one day,” she cried, throwing her arms down at her sides. She felt gross in these dreary robes, too decorated for her tastes altogether. “I want to see you everyday. I never want to go another day without you by my side. Jesus, this whole situation is just sick.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder and furrowed his brow. “Keep quiet. You’re gonna make a scene, Y/N.”

“I just can’t be quiet about this. Don’t you understand how I’m feeling? Aren’t you going to miss me too?” The woman asked, feeling her hands begin to sweat as she clenched them over and over. She stared at him, right into his exposed eye, her breaths becoming shallower with every passing moment. Panic creeped up her neck so quickly, smothering her thoughts, rationale flying out the window.

“Of course I will, L/N. That’s a stupid question, and you know it. I’m just trying not to get caught fraternizing with a future queen, yeah?” he mumbled, his voice hushed. "Just calm down. You're getting pale." He wanted to reach down and run his hands along her arms, smooth over her shoulders for just a bit of comfort, but he refrained. He didn't want to touch her in front of wandering eyes, the eyes of any Frost people.

After scanning the area, she grabbed a hold of his wrist, her fingers firm with no intention of letting go. “We need to leave. You and me, we can get out of here.”

“What?” He could only ask, completely stunned at her suggestion. 

“Remember what you told me in the hospital. You told me to run away. We run away from here now, for as long as it takes for the prince to give up on me.” How scandalous, he thought. He couldn’t possibly just take the bride and run, could he? He hadn’t even pondered that route in his nightly daydreaming before bed, tossing and turning trying to think of a way to save his friend from the depths of whatever this prince had to offer. 

“Y/N, I meant just you. I-I can’t just go against Lady Tsunade like that-”

“Kakashi Hatake, you’re my best friend, but more importantly, I’m in love with you. If I’m not wrong, the feeling is mutual. If that doesn’t make you want to run away together then I call cowardice,” she said boldly, her eyes never once leaving his own. “Come on, we don’t have the time for this.”

This could ruin him, he knew that full well. But there was just something about this woman he couldn’t let slip from his grasp. His entire world fell into her hands. When he felt that inevitable tug on his arm, pulling him into the familiar woods before them, he found himself following without a single restraint. The only thing he felt was his heart racing in his chest, bursting with an adrenaline he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

They pushed through the forest for as long as she could run, tripping over branches and roots along the way, but never losing grip of each other. Her blood pulsed through her veins, and honestly, she had never felt more alive. Her entire life she found herself bowing down to those superior to her, listening to each word they say and meeting their every beck and call. She accepted a proposal she desperately wanted to decline solely to please the Hokage, one of the worst mistakes of all because she needed to obey. 

It felt so fucking good to break the rules, to be disobedient for once in her sorry life. 

Finally, after running for what seemed like miles, she finally slowed to a stop next to a particularly large tree. Her palms pressed against the rough bark, wood chips digging into her calloused hands. He slowed to a stop beside her and watched silently as she caught her breath, her chest rising and falling under the thick robes she wore. 

“These shoes sure as hell aren’t made for running,” she mumbled, looking down at the pathetic slippers they’d given her. “I think we are far enough away that we can sit and talk for a little bit.”

“Yeah, you wanna talk about how you committed treason.”

“You did, too. Don’t blame this all on me.”

“You were the one with all your “cowardice” and “love” crap. God, this entire thing feels like it’d come out of one of Master Jiraiya's novels.”

She took a seat on the ground, not caring if the dirt stained her robes. Why would she care? She was dead either way. If Tsunade ever laid eyes on her again, Y/N knew she’d be a goner. That woman would kill with no hesitation, she was convinced of it. Y/N’s eyes trailed back up to her the man, and she could only groan. “Listen I know there were definitely better ways of doing this, but I’m not the sharpest kunai in the box. I was just doing what my feral instincts were telling me to do. You were the one who just followed after me like a lost puppy.”

He rolled his eyes, huffing out, “What was I supposed to do? Think rationally? You’ve got my brain turned to mush half the damn time; what do you want from me?”

“Don’t worry, you’re literally Tsunade’s best ninja- She’ll let you back into the village.”

“You’re not that bad yourself-”

“Yeah, that’s why she tried to pawn me off to the Land of Frost to be a stay-at-home mom. Things aren’t lining up, Kakashi.”

He sighed, finally deciding to take a seat beside her against the tree trunk. He leant his head against the wood, his eyes peering up into the trees. Things had taken a wild turn, that’s for sure. He really did feel like he was in one of his romantic drama, the only thing missing was the R-rated content-Not that that was what he was thinking about, of course not…

 How the story would end, he didn’t really know. 

“Well, what’s done is done. Whether it was a bad decision or not.”

“I really didn’t think this through.”

“Nope.”

She turned to him, her eyebrows furrowed deeply, frustrated with this entire thing. “Kakashi, I did this because of you. Because of what we have going on between us. Did you want me to be married off to that pig of a prince?” she questioned.

“No.”

 She nodded at his answer and leaned back in her spot. Her arms worked their way to being crossed over her chest, and she couldn’t look him in the eyes at this point, her sight set on a particular mushroom a few yards away. Her words were curt, if not awkward, “Speaking of which, we need to discuss what we are or how we feel or whatever.”

“I thought that was obvious.”

“Not really. I mean, I’ve told you how I feel already, but um, you haven’t said a thing.”

“But you clearly know.”

She shook her head, a bit of heat rising up her cheeks and ears. “Doesn’t matter. I gotta hear you say it, for real.” 

Kakashi let his eyes wander over to the woman, who sat there like a child with her arms crossed and her eyes tucked away somewhere else. He almost wanted to laugh. She reminded him of a student at times with her bashfulness. It was definitely one of the many things he liked about her. “What? Do you want me to tell you I love you, or something?”

“Yes, that would be nice after all the trouble I’ve been through for you.”

He chuckled that time. Of course, all the trouble…”Y/N, I guess I love you. I guess I spent all these years ignoring my feelings, and it took this whole arranged marriage thing to make me realize I was missing out on a really good thing,” he confessed, voice softer than usual. “When you told me in the hospital, riding out your buzz from the spiked tea Gai gave you, that you wished you were marrying me instead, I just knew I had to have you. Truly though, I knew on our first meeting that I wanted you.”

“I was such a clumsy idiot back then. I think I’ve matured a lot since then, don’t you think?”

“Maybe, you’re still a clumsy idiot, just one with great ninjutsu.”

“Hey!”

"All I know is that I loved the feeling of falling in love with you. How good it made me feel. I was more worried about you than ever before, but every time you smiled and said hello, anything you did really, started to make my days better and better,” he continued, “This life has been cold and harsh to me, but you just swooped in and made it worth something.”

She felt her heart beat faster in her chest hearing that, a warmth growing in her stomach as she scooted closer to him, inch by inch. He clearly didn’t take notice or mind, so she pressed her side to his, shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh. She felt ridiculous in these heavy ginormous robes, too bulky to move properly. She dropped her head on his shoulder gently, and felt him relax into her touch.

“I love you so much it hurts. My hands are shaking because of all the love that’s overflowing,” she told him with a sheepish grin, holding up her hand so he could indeed see that her hand was vibrating. He clasped her hand in his own and lowered them to his lap. His thumb ran over her knuckles in soft strokes, and she melted into the gentle touch of the man she cared so deeply for. 

“I’m glad I ran away with you.”

“Me too.”

________________________________

It had been about 3 days before someone found them wandering in a nearby village. It was only a matter of time before they were found and brought back to the Leaf, anyway, so no surprise to them there. It was exciting having a few days without responsibilities, just living almost as if they were civilians in love. 

People in the village stared as the pair walked through the streets of the town, whispers being heard and looks shared. It was only a matter of time before everyone knew about the Copy-nin and his battered bride companion being escorted into Konoha.

Tsunade was in her office waiting for them to arrive. The door shut behind them, and Y/N wished someone was there to witness the Hokage murder them, only, the fatal blow never came. Instead, calm words reached their ears.

“I’d say I’m surprised, but I’m really not.”

“Lady Tsunade, let me explain what happened-” Y/N started to say, but she was quickly interrupted.

“I really don’t need to hear the details of your 3 day sex-capade,” she dismissed, a look of disgust crossing her face. Y/N’s face morphed into that of pure horror, the thought of the Hokage and everyone in the village that knew they ran away assuming that’s what they’d been doing. It was humiliating, to say the least. She didn’t have time to process the fact before the Hokage spoke again, “I’m mad because you two essentially committed treason, but thankfully, the prince didn’t have any complaints. He apparently saw a psychic the day of the wedding who told him that his marriage was cursed for eternity, and was ready to call off the entire thing. Superstitious bastard.”

“So, the Land of the Frost and the Leaf are still allies?” Kakashi asked.

“Yes, fortunately," the Hokage stated simply. She lifted her eyes to the younger woman, and the exasperation was obvious in her appearance as well as tone. The girl in question nervously rubbed her forearm, embarrassed beyond belief. It was one thing getting screamed at, but it was another to be scolded like a child. "Y/N, if you wanted to break the arrangement, you should have just told me. I could have worked it out somehow. There was no need for all this drama.”

She bit her lip, not knowing what to say. She really should have said something before, but she was foolish. “I know, but I didn’t want to disappoint you," the woman mumbled awkwardly.

“Well, you did.” Ouch, so blunt.

“I know.”

She nodded, clearly having said what needed to be said. Her eyes dipped back down to her paperwork. The air wasn't nearly as heavy as when the pair first walked in, and Y/N finally felt air fill her lungs once again. Her nerves had really been for nothing, thankfully. 

“Very well, you two are dismissed. Don't go around pulling shit like this again, or I’ll see to it that you actually receive punishment.”

The doors shut behind them, and Y/N let a smile grow on her cheeks. She turned to the man at her side, her smile only growing that much more at the sight of his handsome face. “Things sure worked out for me. I didn’t get in trouble for my crimes, and I have a boyfriend now,” she gleamed.

He smirked, rolling his eyes. “Don’t get too cocky. You still have to deal with Gai.”

“I’m not prepared for the amount of hugs I am about to receive.”

“Neither am I.”

And as they heard those oh-so familiar, loud footsteps rushing up the stairs of the Hokage Tower, they knew they were in for it. 

"Kakashi! Y/N! I heard the joyous news of your return!"

Oh, boy.

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 7

Helmetless + Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader

Summary: Maybe you should have tried harder, or held onto him tighter. Maybe then you wouldn't be feeling this gaping hole in your chest where your heart used to beat.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,297

Warnings: Description of a dead body, major character death (but technically you already know it happened, just not how it did...so...), heartbreak, major angst, a bit of fluff at the end, a couple familiar faces may or may not show up

Author Note: Seriously, you all are the best readers I could ever hope to have. The response to Part 6 was unbelievable and I can’t thank everyone enough for the support, especially when I continue to be evil and end the segments with such horrible cliffhangers. 

Links to Part 1 and Part 6 and Part 8

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

Maker, your head hurts. 

It throbs angrily as if a mudhorn has impaled your brain on its horn. In fact, your whole body feels like one giant bruise. Grimacing, you take a deep breath, only to enter a coughing fit when you inhale a lungful of smoke. 

Cracking an eye open, panic seizes you when all you see is smoke. Ash gray and thick, it obscures your immediate surroundings from view. You can’t even tell if it’s night or day. 

What the kriff is going on?

Swallowing against the dryness of your throat, you slowly sit up and feel pieces of grit and rubble dig into the tender flesh of your palms. A quick look shows no blood, soulmate mark unaffected, and you sigh a quiet breath of relief. But then worry starts to sink in when you realize you can’t remember where you are or what knocked you unconscious. Before you can spiral into a panic attack, the ground beneath you starts to tremble, causing the tiny fragments of gravel to wildly bounce around.

A shrill metallic screech pierces your ears followed immediately by a massive burst of vibrant orange flames erupting in the distance. You yelp, hastily pushing yourself onto your feet and start to run in the opposite direction, ignoring the howl of protest from your aching body. 

You can’t even see two steps in front of you, effectively ruining your attempt at a quick escape as you clumsily skirt around piles of debris that appear out of the smoke and threaten to block your way. Every breath is a wheeze, lungs making it painfully clear they cannot draw in enough oxygen from the smoky atmosphere to support your chosen pace. But the mere thought of dying here in this nightmarish inferno is enough to urge you to keep moving, keep putting one foot in front of the other, even as it simultaneously creates a tight, anxious knot in your stomach.

Another explosion detonates behind you. The ground quakes and groans, cracks appearing at an alarming rate as if the planet itself is being torn apart by the chaos. Your foot catches on one of the rifts, eliciting a cry of shock to tear itself out of your throat when you’re unable to reclaim your balance and plummet forward.

Except it’s not the ground that rises up to meet you. 

No. 

It’s a body. 

A dead body, to be precise. Burnt to a blackened crisp, as if the person had been dropped directly into a sun. Their skeletal features are frozen in an expression of torture, mouth gaping wide in a silent scream. The stench of their seared flesh overwhelms your nostrils and ingrains itself in your brain, ensuring you’ll never forget the horrific smell for the rest of your lifetime.

Whimpering, you scramble backwards, curling your legs tight against your heaving chest. You look around, bile rising in your throat when you glimpse through the sea of smoke more charred corpses surrounding you. It’s as if you’ve stumbled upon a mass grave, and again the thought crosses your mind: what the kriff is going on?

You stand up, not wanting to linger another second in their presence, and continue moving forward, each footstep slow and careful as you maneuver around the bodies. The smoke is marginally thinner the further away you move from the fiery blasts, just enough for you to make out the faint outlines of collapsed buildings on either side of you, homes of families destroyed for reasons you don’t understand. Gut instinct keeps insisting that everything you’re seeing is wrong, that none of this destruction and carnage should have ever happened. 

Again, you attempt to string together your memories, forcing your brain to comply despite the pounding ache it produces in your temples. Honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if you had a concussion. 

Details slowly start coming to mind, little and meaningless by themselves, but when put together form a grander picture. You came here to visit your best friend. ‘Here’ being a Mid-Rim planet with a ridiculously long and multisyllabic name you couldn’t pronounce then, and your poor head certainly can’t identify now. The transport flight had been long and you’d arrived later than anticipated, verging on late afternoon when you’d stepped off the craft. 

On your way to your friend’s house, the sun had abruptly gone dark. Everyone had stopped to look to the sky, yourself included. A light cruiser, kite-shaped and unmistakable, hovered directly overhead. Its presence was ominous, evoking the crowd of civilian spectators to murmur amongst themselves. 

Then its weapons unleashed a storm of hellfire.

Oh, Maker. How could you have ever forgotten the screams?

You’re pulled out of your dismal thoughts by the appearance of a dark shape ahead of you, its outline standing out as noticeably different than the surrounding rubble. Gradually, your brain starts to distinguish human features: a head, broad shoulders and limbs. 

It also occurs to you that they’re coming straight at you.

Before you can decide whether to flee or fight or do anything remotely conducive to increasing your odds of survival, the human-shaped blur barrels straight into you, hitting you with such force you instinctively grip onto their coat, just above their wrists, to keep from falling backwards. The feather-light grazing of the edge of your palm against their skin elicits a buzz of shocking warmth, as if you’ve touched a live wire instead of flesh.

It’s you, the thought pops into your head unprompted, like a fact you’ve always known since you were born. The feeling is breathtaking and electric, a lightning bolt striking the center of your heart. Every cell in your body is radiating exuberance and cheering: it’s you, it’s you, it’s you! The one I’ve been waiting for!

You’re pushed sideways, a small cry of surprise escaping your lips.

“Get out of my way.” It’s a masculine voice, sharp with impatience yet it wraps itself around your heart all the same. He doesn’t spare you a second glance as he continues heading in the direction you’ve been coming from.

“Wait,” you protest, because it’s not supposed to be like this. You’ve started shaking, from adrenaline or the shock of his dismissal, you’re not sure. 

The man pauses, keeping his back facing you. His dark clothes are conspicuously clean, and you can’t help comparing them to your own which are sooty and torn in places. For the second time, your gut instinct is telling you something is wrong, but this time you ignore it in favor of listening to the screaming of your heart urging you to never let this man out of your sight.

“We’re soulmates,” you say, desperate for him to stay.

His fingers curl into fists, the only forewarning you have before he snaps your heart in half as he mutters, “You could never be my soulmate.”

And then you’re watching as he disappears into the smoke, not once looking back to gauge the aftermath of his rejection. You had always been a hopeless romantic, dreaming that you and your soulmate would meet and live a long, happy life together until Death came to reap your souls. In less than thirty seconds, your soulmate had just cruelly crushed those dreams without either of you exchanging names or seeing each other’s faces.

Maybe you should have tried harder, or held onto him tighter. Maybe then you wouldn't be feeling this gaping hole in your chest where your heart used to beat.

Acting on impulse, you start running after him. If you can just have a second chance to make a better impression, maybe you can change his mind. Maybe you can convince him to accept you as his soulmate, agree to take your hand and never let go. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll fall in love with you, deeply and profoundly, just like every soulmate pairing you’ve heard about.

 With a head full of maybes, you don’t even hear the bomb drop.

It hits the ground with a resounding thud, and then your world is an explosion of red and orange heat, consuming you whole without leaving behind any evidence you’d ever existed at all. Your vision shifts and blurs, memories of your lifetime flashing by too quickly to recognize each one, but through it all you hear a voice, his voice, echoing those dreadful words over and over again.

You could never be my soulmate. Never. Never. Never.

~~~

You wake up with a jolt, throat raw as if you really had been inhaling smoke. You’re drenched in sweat and you push away the heavy blanket covering you before realizing it is definitely not your blanket nor are you currently in your own bed. Looking around, panic begins to prickle along your nerve endings when you fail to recognize anything familiar about your location.

You’re in someone’s home, that much is obvious from the furnishings. The ceiling overhead is made of overlapping metal and is slightly rounded, reminding you of a cave or burrow. There is a lantern hanging on a nearby hook, but the light it emanates is dim compared to the sunshine pouring in from the four small, square-shaped windows cut into the wall behind you above the bed. The view through the windows is slightly blurry, but you can make out the blue sky and what you think is a corral of some kind. 

Rubbing a hand over your face to wipe away the lingering exhaustion, you’re surprised when your hand encounters something rough covering the side of your forehead. A bandage. Strange, you must have hit your head somewhere—

The past comes back in flashes: Din confessing his feelings, touching his hand, the spark of warmth, falling unconscious on the floor.

Where is Din?

“You are awake.”

The voice is expressionless and mechanical in tone, stating the obvious. Even so, you jump, not having noticed the droid sitting in the far corner of the room during your initial survey. Its red sensors and dark colored plating would make it look menacing if not for the tray it clutches in its hands, balancing cups and a pitcher.

“I am IG-11,” the droid says as it approaches.

“IG?” you echo hoarsely, sitting up with alarm. “As in one of those assassin droids?”

“I have been reprogrammed as a nurse.” It considers you for a moment, internal mechanisms whirring, and then the tray is held out closer for you to reach. “Tea?”

Hesitantly, you pour yourself some and hold the cup with both hands as you take a sip. The tea is warm as it slides down your throat, flavorful and far more exotic than the kind you’ve tasted back home in Umbriel. 

“Where am I?” you ask after you’ve swallowed two more gulps.

“Arvala-7.”

You blink, barely familiar with the name which only intensifies your worry about Din’s absence.

“Okay, but like, where exactly on Arvala-7?” you press, gesturing around the room. “How did I even get here?”

“Your current location is a moisture farm owned and operated by Kuiil,” IG-11 says, moving away to set the tray on a nearby table, though its head remains facing your direction. “Death brought you here unconscious with an injury to your central processing unit.”

“My central…” you trail off, squinting. “Was that supposed to be a joke?”

“Yes. It was meant to put you at ease.”

“Right.” You nod to yourself, reaching a decision. Downing the last of your drink, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and make a move to stand. “This has been great, but I’ve really got to go find Death so—”

A wave of dizziness washes over you, forcing you to sit back down. Kriff, you think, closing your eyes until you’re certain you won’t be seeing double anymore. 

“You won’t find Death here.” A new voice, crackling with age, informs you. His words are ominous, but his tone isn’t one of malice or ill-intent. 

Turning, you see an Ugnaught approaching from the entrance of the house. He stops beside IG-11, green eyes peering at you from beneath bushy white eyebrows, but you don’t feel threatened by his nearness. 

“I am Kuiil. Death entrusted me with looking after you until his return from Nevarro,” he says, sitting down upon a stool with his arms braced upon his knees. “You must continue to rest until you are well. I have spoken.”

You press a hand to your chest, feeling a pang of hurt at Din’s decision. “He left?”

“Death is bound by creed to the universe to reap the dead. Nothing, not even his soulmate, can be put before it.”

You choke on your spit. “Soulmate? We’re not—”

“Even if he had not told me,” Kuiil interrupts, unwilling to hear your dissuading opinion when he is certain of his own. “I would have known it from how he stubbornly stayed at your side and by how loathsome he was to leave you behind. In all my years, I have not seen him behave in such a twitterpated manner.” 

“He…” Your voice wavers, torn between hopefulness and disbelief. “He really told you we’re soulmates?”

Kuiil, reaching towards the table for the pitcher of tea, pauses and slowly turns back to look at you. “You were unaware of your matched connection with Death? Did you two not touch hands as most fated pairs often do?”

Any reply you might have said falters when you look down at your hands in your lap. More specifically, your left hand. The one Din had grasped.  The one that in your past life had brushed against your soulmate minutes before you died. 

Right there in the middle of your palm, innocently gleaming like it’s always been there and therefore isn’t at all responsible for the rapid increase of your heartbeat, is a soulmate marking.

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