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yandere-daydreams · 4 months ago

Text

Title: Foxglove and Oleander.

Pairing: Yandere!Sukuna x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 6.0k

Commissioned by the very lovely @letstalktea.

TW: Heian Era AU, Wildly Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Blood + Violence, Deliberate Manipulation, Obsessive Behavior, and Implied Cannibalism.

Sukuna first arrived the night your chrysanthemums bloomed.

That was the only reason you weren’t in the temple when the fire reached it. Against your better judgement and the wishes of your superiors, you’d committed yourself to spending the night in the courtyard, carefully monitoring each delicate bud as they slowly unfurled and stained your garden with scattered blotches of bright, bleeding scarlet. In the morning, it would be your responsibility to gather each flower, dry their petals, and deliver them to the temple’s healers to use as medicinal herbs before you were allowed to get to your less seasonal chores, but tonight, the chrysanthemum belonged to you.

From your little corner of the courtyard, you watched as flames climbed the side of the side of the mountain, consuming the forest that surrounded your home before latching onto the servants’ barracks, then the outer sanctuaries, before finally reaching the main body of the temple. There were a few screams to accompany the fire’s first arrival, but they were quickly drowned out by the fire’s deafening roar, by the sound of buildings already mostly burnt away collapsing into themselves and putting their unfortunate occupants out of their misery. You could feel the heat, hear the others begin to flee, but it was only as the fire reached the peak of its gluttony that he emerged, entirely unscathed and painted with the blood of those you supposed you may have cared about, if you’d had more time. Sukuna, although you wouldn’t know to call him by that name, just yet.

It went without saying that he was hideous. Too many limbs, too many eyes, too many mouths – every part of him distorted with bulk and muscle and ink. His teeth struck you first, bared and glinting in the blinding firelight, then his clothing, the tattered and charred remains of what appeared to be a once fine kimono tied around his waist. He was carrying a spear, but he drove it into the ground as he stepped out of the inferno. There was something slung over his shoulder, too – a corpse, male and burnt beyond the point of recognizability – but that was abandoned just as thoughtlessly, left to rot on the outskirts of your garden. You were glad. Your chrysanthemums wouldn’t survive being crushed by such dead weight.

He didn’t notice you immediately. You stayed where you were, kneeling in the dirt, as he turned in either direction, taking in the devastation with a full-chested laugh. The noise was, in kinship with his appearance, unspeakably gruesome.

Finally, he turned to face you, his eyes lighting up in spite of the stark shadows cast over his face. His spear was still within arm’s reach, but he made no attempt to retrieve it – holding out an open hand to you, instead. “Are you a monk or a maiden?” he asked, his voice more of a growl than anything proper, anything human. “I’ve already had my fill of the former, tonight.”

“A servant,” you answered, bowing your head by way of greeting. “I tend the gardens, among other things. Are you the one killing all the acolytes?”

“Among other things.” His tone had a mocking lilt, although he seemed far from vicious. You’d been warned about that, once, by someone very dear to you. You couldn’t remember the specifics, but the sentiment was still clear enough. ‘Do not fear the animal that bares its teeth, but the creature who lures you closer before it lunges’, or something like that. “I’m afraid I only have a taste for holy meat, tonight. Although, if you run, I’ll certainly take more enjoyment in striking you down.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but—”

“Lord,” he corrected. “Make that mistake again and it’ll be the last time I allow you the privilege of using your tongue.”

“My apologies, my lord.” Again, you bowed your head. “The high priest can be harsh with his discipline. My ankle is still healing, and I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to move quickly enough for either of us to get very much out of it.”

He grinned, and the fire raged on behind him. “Grovel, then. Perhaps, if you manage to please me, I’ll be merciful and kill you quickly.”

He was clearly a man (man? monster? beast?) of great ego. You pressed your tongue against the roof of your mouth, trying to block out the taste of something harsh and acidic rising up from the back of your throat. “If it’s all the same to you,” you managed, eventually, sparing one last glance towards your chrysanthemums. They really were beautiful. You could only regret that you’d never get to see them in the light of day. “I’d really rather not. It seems like it be easier, to just… uh, let you get the job done, as it were.”

In his defense, his pride overshadowed his shock. That, or you simply weren’t the first person he’d met to pay your own life such little regard. “I’ve cut down braver men for bolder suggestions.”

“But you cut them down all the same.” You swallowed, dryly. It’d been a while since you’d last had anything to eat or drink – the better part of a day, at least – but you supposed you wouldn’t have to worry about that for much longer. “I’m sorry, my lord. I would try to run, but my ankle really does make things difficult.”

He regarded you for a moment, as yet another wing of the temple buckled under its own weight. You decided, as you stared back at him, that his eyes weren’t so terrible – the pair he was supposed to have, at least. Although currently narrowed and creased around the edges, they had a pleasant color, a unique shade of red that seemed to glow when it caught the firelight. At least one part of him was bearable to look at.

Finally, he broke the silence, his resonant voice taking on a more authoritative cadence. “Come.”

He didn’t extend a hand, or gesture for you to follow, only trekking onward – towards the temple’s gates, left open in the panic of the exodus. Gingerly, weary of your injured ankle, you pushed yourself to your feet and hastened to his side. Sukuna only paid you glance by way of acknowledgement, but you didn’t mind. “Are you going to kill me in the woods, instead?”

“Uraume’s been asking for another set of hands.” You weren’t sure what he was talking about, but you nodded as if you understood entirely. He spared you a small, thoughtless smile, and you decided that he was also the type of man who often enjoyed the luxury of never being questioned. “If they don’t care for you, I’ll kill you wherever I wish.”

“Ah.” You passed under the temple gates by his side. Not long after that, you heard the great crash of stone into earth, and knew that those, too, had collapsed. “I hope it’s somewhere with lots of flowers. I’ve always wanted to die somewhere beautiful.”

His only answer was another, more lingering glance in your direction, a low bark of a laugh. Satisfied, you let the conversation lapse into silence and walked into the night by the side of a monster.

“How do you choose where to go?”

He didn’t respond, not immediately. Instead, one of his spare hands brought yet another grape to your lips, and with a pleased hum, you accepted it, savoring the sour tinge that accompanied the sweetness. From what you gathered, he preferred savory to sweetness, sweetness to bitterness, and bitterness to all other flavors that followed. He rarely ate anything that wasn’t the strange, ambiguous meat prepared by Uraume, his ever-smiling mastress of rituals, but the last village you’d passed through had a surplus of fruit. It’d seemed like a waste to let all of it rot, now that there was no one left to enjoy it.

It was strange – traveling with Sukuna and Uraume. They seemed to be on a pilgrimage of sorts, the destination unknown and the purpose one of endless carnage. Not that either of them expected you to participate in the devastation. No, as far as you could tell, you were regarded more as a servant, meant to be of aid to Sukuna when Uraume was otherwise occupied. Except, Uraume never seemed to be very occupied at all, and Sukuna very rarely needed aid, and you were often left in a position more akin to that of a pet than anything else – kept around predominantly because Sukuna found it entertaining to do so. Not that you minded. Pets were cherished and coddled. Pets never went hungry. Pets weren’t expected to be anything other than endearing and obedient, which wasn’t totally dissimilar to the things you were always expected to be, regardless of what you were supposed to call yourself.

Currently, you were taking shelter in an abandoned shrine not quite dilapidated enough to be considered unlivable, Uraume tending the hearth while Sukuna stared absent-mindedly at a map pilfered from the shine’s stockroom, the colored ink nearly too faded to read. You paid little mind to either of them – content enough to remain sprawled across Sukuna’s lap, one of his arms wrapped loosely around your waist. This was the first time you’d spoken in minutes, reluctant to break the comfortable silence. Sukuna didn’t seem to mind the sound of your voice, and you didn’t want that to change. “I don’t,” he admitted, eventually. He only spoke for himself, but it was given that you and Uraume would follow. “I go where I please. I only like to know that, when I arrive, there’ll be something worth my time waiting to receive me.”

“So particular, my lord.” You felt something tap against your bottom lip, and opened your mouth to accept a perfectly sweet, perfectly ripe strawberry. “Tell me, then – what would please you?”

He seemed to think for a long moment. Finally, he asked, “What village were you born to?”

His intention went unspoken, but the implication was clear. Sukuna’s sole pastime was destruction, with the target of his ire being any person, town, or creature unfortunate enough to cross his path. Although you’d never seen him go out of his way to find prey before, you were sure willingly pointing him in the direction of vulnerable quarry would result in a predictable outcome.

“Oh, I wouldn’t know. Things like that can be so hard to remember,” you said, which wasn’t untrue. Your memory was a fickle thing – uncooperative on your best days and deliberately misleading on your worst. “You know, being a baby at the time and all.”

His fingers drummed thoughtfully against your side. “You must have family somewhere, servant.”

“Not necessarily.” You shut your eyes to stop yourself from squirming, sighing as you rested your head against his shoulder. “My parents abandoned me before I was old enough to learn their names. A scrap collector took me in some time after that, but he traveled quite often, and I lost track of him years ago.” You paused, shook your head. “Like I said, things like this can be difficult to remember. I’m sorry, my lord.”

There was a slight hum, a momentary lapse. Abruptly, you felt his hands shift to your waist, Sukuna repositioning your smaller form with all of the strength and all of the thought it might’ve taken an ordinary person to right a toppled-over doll. Your back came to rest against his chest as one of his spare hands cupped your chin, directing your attention towards the yellowed map. “Pick somewhere,” he muttered, his voice low and his lips close enough to ghost over the shell of your ear. “Anywhere. Before I pull your unhelpful little tongue out of your throat.”

“Of course, my lord.” Acquiesce came first, a real answer second. Your gaze fell to the map in front of you. It took a second, but you found what you were looking for quickly enough. “Here,” you said, pointing to an area north of your current location. “There’s a village in the eastern corner of this valley with a small population of young farmers and very little in the way of redeeming qualities. But, in the town square, there grows a cherry blossom tree tall enough to scrap against the belly of the sky with branches that stretch as far as the eye can seem. When it blooms, its petals are great enough in volume to carpet the surrounding acre in pink.” You straightened your back, decisively avoiding sinking back into his chest. “I… I wouldn’t mind visiting it again, if it would please my lord.”

It was a dangerous thing to do – showing your hand so plainly. You’d grown so used to keeping your cards tucked snuggly against your chest, even talking this openly felt as if you’d been stripped bare and put on exhibition in front of him.

But, if Sukuna realized that he was the audience to your performer, he neglected to acknowledge it. He only looked toward Uraume, who perked to attention immediately. They were good at that – pretending not to listen. Not as talented as you, of course, but good nonetheless. “We start traveling east tomorrow,” he said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’m adding another leg to our journey.”

His primary attention remained on them, but a few of his unblinking secondary eyes – repulsive in their lack of necessity – darted to you, watching for any signs of satisfaction, of pleasure. You only schooled your expression, retreating into your own mind to count the days until the cherry blossoms bloomed.

It took a surprising amount of time for you to catch Uraume in the act. Not overly long, but more time than you would’ve expected with them making no particular effort to hide the evidence of their ‘ritual preparation’ and you making no exceptional attempt to avoid finding out why their snow-white sleeves were so often stained red. If allowed to, you might’ve gone on living in the bliss of plausible deniability until your time with Sukuna and his chosen companionship came to an end, but he was not so kind, and there was little entertainment to be had in such a passive participant.

Still, you would’ve liked another week, another month, another season. You’d never cared for kitchens, but you cared for them least when they reeked of rotting meat.

The stench was almost worse than the sight – almost, but not quite. Then again, you were struggling to think of something worse than Uraume, all practiced tranquility and iced-over smiles, elbow-deep in the cavity a long dead middle-aged man, his body bare and spread over the stone countertop. You recognized him not by his face, but by his features – his wealth-fattened face, his uncalloused hands, the lack of definition to his legs that those who toiled could rarely afford to go without. He must’ve been the lord who owned the palace you currently found yourself residing in – a sprawling, decadent structure that it’d taken hours to clean after the massacre. Sukuna would survive wherever his whims lead, but he preferred to be comfortable. You didn’t mind. You preferred it when Sukuna was comfortable, too.

It was clear they hadn’t been expecting you, either. Their dark eyes bored into you where you lingered in the doorway, a wicker basket on your hip and your robes still dusted with soil. Most of your day had been spent in the palace gardens. Its former caretaker had planted their shiso along the garden wall, where it would only receive partial sun in the best season – a common enough mistake, for how easy it was to mistake for basil, and a tricky one to correct. An experienced caretaker should’ve known better, but as the herbs were still alive while their keeper was very much not, you could consider their negligence repaid.

You made the first move –bowing at the waist by way of greeting. “Lord Sukuna asked me to fetch his tea,” you explained, as you straightened your back. You didn’t feel the need to mention that’d he’d sought you out in your gardens to do so. “I thought I’d bring you a few herbs in the same trip. My apologies, it wasn’t my intention to disturb you.”

The corner of their lips quirked downward. It wasn’t quite a frown, but it was the closest thing to one that you’d ever earned from them. You weren’t upset. Even glowering, they would’ve been breath-taking. “He wanted you to see my—” They paid a glance toward the dismembered lord, their arm still buried in his chest. “My preparations.”

“It would seem so.”

“And he wanted to know how you’d react. There’s a good chance he’ll ask me about this, later on.”

“I’d say it’s more of a certainty.”

“I’d understand it, if you wanted to leave. I know there are few ordinary humans who can stomach tasks so—” Another pause, this one longer than the first. Clearly, they were making an attempt to watch their tongue. “—needlessly visceral.”

“If I did try, how long would you give me before telling Sukuna?” This time, they choose to hold their tongue entirely, their slight frown deepening into a full-blown scowl. It took everything you had not to let your own satisfaction shine through.

Rather, you paid them another shallow bow before the threshold and setting down your basket on the nearest length of empty counter. “It’s mostly shiso, but I found some usable ginger and garlic, too, and a few stalks of parsley. Is there anything I can do to help?”

After a moment of consideration, Uraume shook their head. It only took a few minutes to make the tea you’d been sent to fetch, but they were minutes passed in silence, undisturbed save for the quiet chime of ceramic against ceramic. They didn’t start their own work again until you’d left the kitchen entirely, which you were thankful for. They’d been right. There were few humans with stomachs so strong as to withstand such grisly tasks, and you’d never counted yourself among them.

Sukuna had claimed the master’s chambers for himself, of course. You let yourself in without knocking, immediately finding Sukuna sprawled across the wonderfully ornate futon that dominated most of the floorspace. He smiled when he saw you, but his expression fell as soon as you returned the gesture.

He didn’t mention Uraume, or the kitchens, or the thick stench of iron-tinged blood that now seemed to fill every corner of the vast estate. You hummed as you poured his tea, and remained at his bedside as he took a long drink, followed shortly by an approving nod. You tried to make your escape quickly, already fantasizing about retreating back to your secluded garden, but Sukuna caught you before you could so much as turn towards the door. “Attend to what you must,” he started, his tone simultaneously dismissive and attention-seeking. “But return here, when you’re done. Bring your belongings, too – you won’t be going back to your bedroom again.”

You didn’t falter, but not for lack of reason to. You’d chosen your bedroom carefully, surveyed the better half of the residential wing before finding quarters that suited you. It was sparse by way of comforts and furniture, but the sole window looked over the mountainside, the landscape stretching on for miles upon miles without interruption. You would’ve been pressed to think of a finer view.

“As you wish.” And then, with a chirp of a laugh, “You know, we spend so much time with one another while traveling. I thought you would’ve taken our stationary periods as an excuse to get away from Uraume and I.”

“If I had a weaker will, maybe.” He reclined, let his head lull to the side, as if inviting you to counter, to protest – or worse, to step closer. “Why? Do you have something to say, servant?”

“Only how pleased I am to be of service to my lord.” You could’ve bowed, but decided against it. This time, when you took your leave, Sukuna was kind enough not to get in your way. Then again, he didn’t have a reason to.

He must’ve known that you were always going to come back.

“Who gave you permission to leave, servant?”

No one, but you’d hoped he wouldn’t notice until you were already gone. Stifling the urge to cringe, you turned on your heel and retreated back to the riverbank, not far from where Sukuna had left his robes, deliberately keeping your eyes on the ground. He rarely let you leave his side, but having you remain within eyeshot while he bathed was a newer development – and a tricker one to justify to yourself, at that. You were still allowed to remain more of a voyeur than a participant, but you weren’t naive enough to believe that he’d allow there to be such a great distance between you for much longer.

“I’m sorry, my lord.” Your eyes may have been downcast, but your voice was a light and as upbeat as ever. “I only hoped to catch Uraume before they finished. Servants have to bathe too, you know, and those of us with no limbs to spare can be rather hesitant to do so alone so deep into the forest.”

“Join me, then.”

Ah.

You should’ve been expecting that, honestly. You had no one but yourself to blame.

“My lord,” you managed with an airy laugh, feigning disbelief. “I’m just not sure if someone of my position should—”

Considering Sukuna’s size, he could move impressively fast. You’d only managed to take half a step back before you felt a hand curling around your wrist, pulling you off of the bank and into the river. You managed to take all of two stumbling steps forward before your foot caught on a slick river stone and you fell to your knees, ice-cold water immediately soaking through your thin robes. Sukuna made no effort to catch you, laughing as you tripped over yourself. He’d always seemed terrible to you, but you couldn’t remember the sound of his voice ever being so vile.

Biting back a sigh or some other, more telling show of displeasure, you started to push yourself to your feet, but stopped as soon as you felt Sukuna’s fist curl around your collar, another finding the back of your head. In a brief moment of blissful obliviousness, you thought he meant to help you – or, to restrain you and savor your humiliation for a few seconds longer, at the very worst. You almost thanked him, as little as your gratitude meant to Sukuna.

Then, your head was forced below the water, and you thought better of it.

It happened too suddenly to brace yourself. Your first reaction, operating purely out of instinct, was to open your mouth and try to breathe in – an idea as primal as it was unhelpful. Frigid water flooded into your mouth, your throat, liberating you from any amount of air you might’ve been able to hold onto and filling the now-vacant space with a chill that seemed to bite into your throat and leave everything it touched throbbing, numb. Your second was to thrash against Sukuna’s hold – which was, predictably, equally as useless. He was stronger than you could ever hope to be, than any real human being ever should be. Thick fingers threaded themselves into your hair, the hand holding the collar of your robes falling away only to find the nape of your neck, cementing your place at his mercy.

You tried to be rational, to exhale, to not panic, but something thick and solid seemed to be lodged at the base of your throat, and you couldn’t think about breathing without choking, and it was hard not to panic when you were hyper-aware that you were going to be drowned in some godforsaken river in some heartless forest at the hands of an unlovable monster. You were running out of air too quickly – you were supposed to have more time. He couldn’t have dragged you down any longer than a minute ago, but you could already feel an acute throbbing in your temples, make out dark spots dancing in the corners of your vision. Your body thrashed and stiffened in turns, but it was only when your form went limp in his hold that Sukuna jerked you back to the surface – hauling you back to the shore and letting you collapse onto the welcoming sand. He stood by, his grin the embodiment of mirth, as you hacked up acid-tinged water and blinked back tears, sucking in shallow breaths between coughing fits. Every inhale left your chest tense and aching, though, and every exhale felt like you were giving up something precious, something irreplaceable. You did your best to ignore the strain, to put it out of your mind. You had a feeling it would be some time before you could breathe painlessly again.

It took long, agonizing minutes for you to so much as begin to recover, but Sukuna remained by your side, waiting patiently. At some point, he lowered himself to your height – falling into a crouch and bringing a hand up to your back, rubbing circles into the apex of your spine as you coughed and clawed at the shore. He didn’t hum, or speak, or apologize, but you hadn’t expected him to. To initiate would be to taint what he sought so violently: your reaction. He wouldn’t do anything to spoil his prize, not so close to victory.

No, he wouldn’t dare.

The responsibility of denying him fell solely to you.

“My—”You tried to raise your head, to look at him, only to cut yourself off – another lungful of brackish water forcing its way past your lips before you could find your voice again. “My lord,” you managed, eventually. “If you’d like to bathe together, please give me a moment to undress, first. You know how long it can take cotton to dry.”

To his credit, his composure held. There was another throaty laugh, a sudden edge to his smile. “You should be more careful, songbird. One day, I’m going to eat you alive, and your last words to me are going to how glad you are to serve your master one last meal.”

“There would be no greater honor.” You managed an unsteady smile before dropping your head low, curling into yourself, and coughing up until your throat burnt and your rib cage seemed ready to burst. Sukuna only shook his head, taking you by the shoulders and leaning you against his chest, ensuring your stability before his attention shifted to your robes. With a surprising delicacy, he undid the sash bound around your waist, shrugging off your ruined yukata and carrying you back into the water. Your nails bit into his chest, but if he felt your involuntary resistance, it wasn’t enough to deter him.

Your body was lowered gingerly into one of the river’s shallower portions, and Sukuna kneeled behind you, one of his hands coming up to cup your cheek. You shut your eyes, but you could still feel his thumb tracing idly over your cheek, his chest reverberating against your back as he all but purred in delight. “I could hear your heart racing as I pushed you under.” And then, with a feather-light kiss to the top of your head, “It’s a relief to know there’s at least one part of you I can trust to be honest with me.”

You didn’t answer – only smiling as you melted into his palm.

The cherry blossom tree was larger than you’d remembered.

The village that surrounded it had grown, too. That made sense – it’d been years since you last passed through this area, and such a lovely corner of the world was bound to attract merchants and traveling warriors and those who, like yourself, simply found themselves drawn to beautiful things. You’d been able to see its wonderous branches rising above the horizon days before you were supposed to reach the village, started catching sakura petals on the breeze while you were still hours away from the nearest scrap of civilization, and a small part of you died upon being told that you would have to wait until after sunrise for your reunion, until Sukuna had finished glutting himself on blood and death and misery. Not that you listened. Uraume was tasked with looking after you, but they weren’t difficult to slip away from. They seemed to be fond of you – or, at least, surprisingly sympathetic to their master’s newest pet. Either way, they let you go without much of a struggle.

An hour or so after midnight, you made your way through fleeing crowds, maneuvering around mounds of disembodied extremities and between flame-eaten farmhouses, still in the early stages of burning down. Wherever Sukuna went, the fire seemed to follow, so you tried to stay where the light seemed the dimmest, where the smoke seemed the thinnest, focused solely on finding your way to the center of town – to the cherry blossom. You couldn’t make out its silhouette against the pitch-black landscape, but you didn’t need to. You would’ve been able to find your way to it on instinct alone.

That being said, now that you stood before it, you found it hard to believe that you’d come to the right village, let alone the right tree.

You didn’t remember your cherry blossom looking quite so… absent.

It was as if some great and wrathful deity had broken your sakura off at the base and spirited its body away, leaving only a charred stump behind. There was evidence that there had been more, at some point – pale pink petals littering the ground, a rope fence that had to have once guarded more than desecrated remains – but the cherry blossom was gone, as the village built around it would be by sunrise. It was cruel, really, when you could put your own despair aside long enough to use such tame vernacular. It was monstrous.

Speaking of monsters – yours was quick to rear his ugly head.

He’d never looked more terrible. Ash tainted the pale color of his hair, blood and gore staining his chest, his face, his hands. As always, he carried no weapon, and as always, he was entirely uninjured, untouched save for the byproduct of the devastation he’d wrought. You watched him approach in your peripheral, bracing yourself a moment before four arms wrapped around your smaller body and pulled you into a stone-hard chest. You knew better than to attempt to resist Sukuna, but this might have been the first time you were tempted to try.

“Songbird,” he muttered, the petname salt to a fresh wound. If he was surprised, let alone angry that you’d snuck away from Uraume, your disobedience caused him no strife. “I come bearing gifts.”

The upper of his two left hands uncurled, revealing a long, stick-like object. A hairpin, you realized, after a moment, the prong of a fine dark mahogany. It boasted only a single ornament: a small, expertly made glass flower. A cherry blossom, to be more specific.

You’d never been quick to anger. For as long as you could remember, in fact, you’d never found yourself angered by much of anything before.

You tasted blood before you realized you were biting your tongue; swallowing back a scream, or howl, or some other unsightly noise. It took you longer than you would’ve liked to regain your composure, but Sukuna was preoccupied, his attention dedicated solely to burying his face in the crook of your neck, to clutching onto you so tightly, you had to wonder how he’d ever managed to let go. It’d been inane to ever compare yourself to a pet, to something so cherished. It’d been inane to ever believe you were anything more than the favored plaything of a drooling, overgrown mutt.

With trembling hands, you plucked the hairpin out of his palm and held it up appraisingly. When Sukuna raised his head, his pointed teeth still lingering against your throat, you did the only thing you could think to – smiling as you leaned into him. “It’s beautiful.” And then, with a sigh, “It’s only a shame to have missed the real thing.”

For all of Sukuna’s faults, you could only be thankful that pride was among them.

“You don’t have to worry.” A hand found your jaw, holding you in place as he pressed a kiss into your temple. “I had more than my fill before you arrived.”

As you watched the village burn in his arms, you thought only of the color of chrysanthemums and the taste of iron, heavy on your tongue.

Someone had told you, once, that all the loveliest flowers bloomed under moonlight.

You watched the sky as you waited – your eyes never leaving the sliver of it you could see through small, barred window built into the opposing wall. He’d taken you to another vacant temple, tonight, claimed the head priest’s chambers as his den, and you’d followed lovingly, never uttering so much as a word of complaint. You’d let him rest his head in your lap, raked your fingers through his hair, and brought a cask of sweet wine laced with bitter herbs to his lips whenever he threatened to stir. Eventually, his eyes eased shut, his pulse slowing and his expression dulling into something calm, something docile. If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve started to doubt that he was a monster at all.

You didn’t move, didn’t shift, didn’t make a run for the door. You only reached into your sleeve, fetching the cherry blossom hairpin he’d gifted you weeks ago, now, the hairpin you carried dutifully ever since. You waited for him to turn onto his side, revealing the unarmored half of his face, before aligning the pointed tip with his ear, raising it above your head, and plunging it—

You felt his fingers dig into your thigh, another hand latching onto your hip. Your back slammed into the stiff futon with enough force to knock the air out of your lungs – leaving you breathless and paralyzed in an instant. When you recovered enough to think, you found Sukuna above you, straddling your waist, a hand planted on either side of your head. He was breathing heavily, as if excited. You knew it was impossible, but you found yourself wishing that he’d find a way to regurgitate his own lungs and choke on them.

“My lord,” you started, each word measured. You were careful to keep your voice low, your smile perfectly saccharine. “I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

His response was a manic smile, a bark of a laugh. “It’s too late to play innocent.” He lowered himself that much closer to you, his chest a hair’s width from making contact with yours. “How many times have you poisoned my wine, songbird?”

“Poisoned? Never.” You’d let go of your hairpin in the collision. Currently, it was lying against the wall to your right – just an inch or so out of your reach. There were other, more accessible weapons closer to you, but if you were going to kill Sukuna, you wanted it to be with that abomination. “If my lord is asking how many times I’ve treated his wine with herbs and spices, then twice. Once to see how he handled his drink, and tonight.”

You’d done him a disservice – writing him off as simply monstrous. He was more beast-like than anything, with his back arched and his talons dug into the bedding, with eyes so wide and so vibrant you believed, if only for a second, that he would manage to burn holes through your skull. “A day will come,” His anticipation was palpable. It was a wonder how such a glutton could ever sound so starved. “Where nothing will fall from you sweet lips but my praises, and I will know beyond the shadow of a doubt that you mean every last word.”

For once, you could only say what you meant. “I’d rather fucking die.”

There was a change to his animal posture, a glint of white teeth in moonlight, and then his mouth was crashing into yours – all fangs and tongue and intensity. Mindlessly, operating off of your own sort of base impulse, you reached out, your fingertips just barely brushing against the prong of your hairpin.

It was only as you curled your fist around it that you kissed him back, unable to suppress your grin.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk imagines #yandere jjk #yandere sukuna #sukuna x reader

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psychedelic-ink · 9 months ago

Text

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘

ㅤㅤjoel miller x plus size!f!reader

genre: romance, flowershop au, jackson era, minors dni

word count: 7k

summary: you own a small flower shop in Jackson, when Ellie comes to visit, your life inevitably becomes tangled with the man who cares for her; joel miller.

warnings: age gap, piv in the middle of a flower field, no one sees, praise kink, some angst because joel, oral (fem receiving)

a/n: hello everyone! it's been a while and honestly, life has been kicking me in the gut lately with everything its got.

This originally was a commission, reader had a name and I've been working at it for months but sadly the person who commissioned be backed out last second saying they weren't interested anymore meaning I'm not getting paid for this work. Again, it's on me. Admittedly I've been slow on commissions due to my living situation and work and I should've taken half the payment upfront but trusting it was a joel fic I didn't really take extra precautions.

I decided to share it anyway, and the person who commissioned me said that I could. Any kind of writing has been hard for me to do lately and I really like how this one turned out. But since now I'm not getting paid for this work I decided to take out readers name and make some changes to the overall plot that I was given.

Sadly, I can't take any more commissions at the moment before finishing the ones I have left, but I'd be grateful for any kind of support you guys can give. I need to move out this summer (if I don't, I don't have a shadow of a doubt that my aunts will tell me to leave anyway) and I've been trying to save up as much as I can. Everything just has been a lot lately and I'm feeling anxious about my decisions and lost.

Again, any kind of support is greatly appreciated even tho I know I don't deserve it at this time:

my kofi

**dividers by @saradika-graphics 💜

You unlock the door to your quaint flower shop, the antique bell that you found and Tommy fixed chiming softly in greeting. Stepping outside, you're immediately embraced by the warmth of the morning sun, its golden rays dancing playfully on your skin. The air carries the unmistakable scent of spring, a delicate blend of fresh blossoms and earthy notes that fills your lungs with every inhale.

Dressed in a flowing dress, you feel perfectly in tune with the season as you begin arranging the colorful array of flowers on display outside your shop. The fabric of your dress sways gently in the breeze, a soft symphony of movement that mirrors the graceful dance of the petals.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes and tilt your face towards the sky, basking in the gentle caress of the sun's rays. Above you, the cerulean expanse is dotted with fluffy white clouds, their shapes shifting and morphing with each passing moment.

With practiced hands, you arrange the blooms with care, each stem finding its place in the intricate tapestry of colors and textures. The vibrant hues of the flowers contrast beautifully against the backdrop of the weathered brick walls of your shop, creating a scene that's both inviting and enchanting.

As you work, you can't help but smile at the thought of the joy these flowers will bring to those who pass by. It’s been hard adopting to a new and broken world, but ironically, you have found your passion. Something to make you eager to get up in the morning. Of course your heart still ached for those you had lost, the suffering, but working on flowers, something living and growing and adapting just like you managed to lighten the weight on your heart. Whether it's a simple bouquet to brighten someone's day or a thoughtful arrangement for a special occasion, your creations have a way of spreading happiness and light wherever they go.

With the last of the flowers arranged to perfection, you step back to admire your handiwork, a sense of pride swelling within you. With a contented sigh, you turn to head back inside, ready to greet the day with open arms and a heart full of gratitude.

That is, until, you hear a surprised gasp.

“Holy shit—”

Turning around at the sound, you're met with the sight of a familiar face. A young girl you've seen around town quite frequently. You haven’t officially met her yet, but you know her name: Ellie.

Realizing that the young girl has never visited your flower shop before, you understand the source of her surprise. With a warm smile, you approach her and greet her by name. "You're Ellie, right? Tommy's niece?"

Ellie nods enthusiastically, her eyes bright with excitement. "Yeah, that's me! Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I've just never been here before. The flowers are... fucking amazing—"

She suddenly claps a hand over her mouth, looking towards you apologetically. The gesture makes you laugh.

"I'm glad you like them," you reply, feeling a sense of satisfaction at her reaction. "Feel free to take a closer look if you'd like."

Her eyes light up at the invitation, and she eagerly follows you inside the cozy flower shop. The atmosphere inside is warm and inviting, with shelves lined with potted plants and bouquets of flowers in various stages of bloom. Sunlight filters through the windows, casting a soft glow over the space and illuminating the vibrant colors of the blooms.

As you lead Ellie further into the shop, you can't help but notice the curious glances she casts around, taking in every detail with a sense of wonder. The air is filled with the subtle fragrance of flowers, a delicate scent that lingers in the air and adds to the charm of the space.

"So, Ellie," you begin, breaking the comfortable silence as you approach a display of freshly cut flowers, "Anything you like? I’d be more than happy to gift you some."

Ellie's eyes sparkle with excitement as she looks around the shop. "Really? But there’s so many, how can I even choose?"

"Well, you're in luck," you reply, gesturing towards the colorful blooms around you. "I can just make you a bouquet of everything. Just pick out your favorites."

Ellie's gaze drifts over the display, her expression thoughtful as she considers your question. "Hmm, that's a tough one, they all look so fucking cool," she muses, her brows furrowing slightly in concentration. "How about sunflowers and. . . daisies? There's just something about them that feels... I don't know, hopeful, I guess."

You nod in understanding, a fond smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Sunflowers are a wonderful choice. They symbolize warmth, happiness, and positivity. Definitely a fitting choice for someone as vibrant as you, Ellie."

She grins at the compliment, "Thanks,. So, what about you? Do you have a favorite flower?"

“That’s a tough one, but I’d had to say daffodils. They just make me feel right at home. . . even though home has become a difficult word.”

She doesn’t answer you, at least not in a way that you would expect. She nods and says,

"Let's add some daffodils to the mix too. If that’s okay.”

“If course it is. I said any flower didn’t I?”

With Ellie's choices in mind, you set to work gathering the blooms she selected, expertly arranging them into a vibrant bouquet. Your hands move with practiced precision, the gentle rustle of petals and stems filling the air as you weave the different flowers together.

Each blossom is a work of art in its own right, vibrant hues mingling together in a harmonious dance of colors and textures. Sunflowers, with their golden petals reaching towards the sky, stand tall and proud at the center of the bouquet, symbolizing warmth and happiness. Daisies, with their delicate white petals and cheerful yellow centers, add a touch of innocence and purity to the mix. And finally, the daffodils.

Beside you, Ellie watches with rapt attention, her eyes shining, "It's so pretty," she remarks, her voice filled with awe.

You smile at her words, feeling a sense of pride swell within you at the sight of her delight. "Flowers have a way of bringing joy and beauty into our lives," you reply, your voice soft with reverence. "They remind us to appreciate the simple things and to find beauty in the world around us."

Finally, the bouquet is complete, a stunning masterpiece that radiates warmth and joy. You present it to Ellie with a flourish, a sense of satisfaction washing over you at the sight of her delighted expression.

"It's perfect," Ellie exclaims, her eyes shining with excitement as she admires the bouquet in her hands. "Thank you so much. This is amazing."

"It was my pleasure," you reply, your heart swelling with happiness at her words. "I'm glad you like it. And remember, if you ever want to learn more about flowers or need some help with anything, you know where to find me."

Ellie nods eagerly, her enthusiasm infectious. "Definitely. Thanks again. This means a lot."

As Ellie turns to leave, a sudden thought seems to strike her. She pauses, her hand on the door, before turning back to face you with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Hey," she begins, a playful smile dancing on her lips, "do you need a flower assistant? I mean, I’d be nice to work here, and you seem really cool."

"Well, Ellie," you reply with a teasing grin, "If you're serious about helping out around here, I'd be more than happy to have you on board."

Ellie's eyes widen,. "Wait, really?" she asks, her voice tinged with disbelief. "You mean it?"

You nod, your smile genuine as you reassure her. "Of course. I could use all the help I can get, especially during busy times. And besides, it'll be fun having you around. Consider yourself officially hired as my flower assistant, Ellie."

A grin spreads across Ellie's face, her eyes sparkling with excitement at the prospect of working alongside you in the flower shop. "Wow, I don't even know what to say," she admits, her voice filled with genuine gratitude.

"No need to say anything," you grin. "Just don’t be late."

As Ellie nods, a sense of anticipation fills the air, signaling the beginning of a new chapter in both of your lives. With a shared sense of excitement and determination, you and Ellie set to work, ready to take on whatever challenges and adventures the future may hold for your blossoming partnership.

The next day unfolds with a golden hue, promising another beautiful day in Jackson. As you prepare for the day ahead, a sense of excitement tingles in the air knowing that you'll be mentoring Ellie, your newfound flower assistant. Ellie arrives earlier than you expected, her eyes oozing with sleep.

"Good morning, Ellie," you greet her with a warm smile, gesturing for her to come closer. "Ready for your first day?"

Ellie grins back, nodding enthusiastically. "Absolutely. I’m just not used to waking up so early."

With a chuckle, you lead her to the work table, where several potted plants await repotting. However, before diving into the day's tasks, Ellie's curiosity gets the better of her.

"How do you find all these flowers?" she asks. "I mean, with the infected and everything, it must be hard."

"I have a few spots outside of Jackson where I like to go to collect flowers. There's a field not too far from here that's brimming with all sorts of blooms."

Ellie's eyes widen and you can tell she's intrigued by the idea of venturing beyond the safety of the town's walls. "That sounds amazing," she breathes, her voice filled with wonder. "Do you go there often?"

You nod, a fond smile playing on your lips as you recall the countless trips you've taken to the flower field. "Yes, whenever I need to restock or find something special," you reply. "But I've also started growing some flowers myself. It's a work in progress, but it's been rewarding to see them bloom."

"That's so cool," she exclaims. "I'd love to see the field sometime, if you're up for it."

With a grin, you nod, "I'd be happy to take you," you reply. "But for now, let's focus on getting these plants repotted. We'll save the field trip for another day."

As if on cue, the shop door swings open, and a customer steps inside, a worn backpack slung over their shoulder. They approach the counter with a friendly smile, their eyes scanning the colorful array of blooms on display.

"Good morning," you greet them with a smile, your attention shifting to the customer. "How can I help you today?"

The customer returns your smile, reaching into their backpack to retrieve a small item wrapped in cloth. "I have something to trade," they explain, placing the item on the counter before you.

You unwrap the cloth to reveal a delicate piece of jewelry, a handmade necklace adorned with intricate beads and charms. It's a beautiful piece, clearly crafted with care and attention to detail.

Ellie watches with interest as you examine the necklace, her curiosity piqued by the exchange taking place before her eyes. "What are you trading for?" she asks, her voice filled with curiosity.

You glance at Ellie with a smile, impressed by her keen observation. "Well, Ellie, sometimes customers trade items in exchange for flowers," you explain, turning back to the customer. "It's a way for them to get something they need while also supporting the shop. As for how I decide what the flowers are worth, it's based on a few factors—like the rarity of the flowers, the time and effort it took to grow them, and of course, their beauty."

With a nod, you accept the necklace, carefully placing it aside before selecting a beautiful bouquet of flowers to offer in exchange. As the customer leaves the shop, their smile brighter than before, you can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction knowing that you've made another person's day a little bit brighter.

“Ellie, I’m not sure me bargin’ into your new workplace is the best introduction,” Joel says.

“You’ll be fine,” she says, dragging Joel by the arm. “Besides, weren’t you the one grumbling about not liking me spending all my time with a stranger? What else was I fucking supposed to do?”

Joel lets out an elongated sigh. “Language.”

He can’t see it, but he knows she’s rolling her eyes at him. The tiny, rundown flower shop soon comes into view and Joel can’t help but think of all the improvements he could make: the crooked step, the splintered door, the moss growing from the bottom of the woody exterior—

This shop won’t last next winter, he thinks with furrowed brows. And even though he’s been skeptical about Ellie spending all of her time here, he’s seen the improvement in her mood. Things just haven’t been the same since their return from the hospital, he couldn’t shake the distant feeling between him and her no matter how hard he tried. It had become something even he couldn’t fix.

But then, one day, she’d come home with the most beautiful bouquet of flowers he’d ever seen, with a wide smile plastered across her young face. Then she mentioned the keeper of the shop. Ever since then, his interest had been piqued.

Approaching the shop, he notices a figure outside arranging flowers, your silhouette bathed in the warm morning sun. You appear younger than he anticipated, your beauty catching him off guard. The way your dress contours your curves adds to your allure, a sight unexpected yet captivating. A gentle breeze tousles your hair as you work, momentarily leaving him speechless.

Contrasting his hesitation, you bound up to the shop with your usual cheerfulness. "Hey there!" Ellie calls out. The woman turns at her greeting, a genuine smile gracing her lips as she sets down the flowers. "Good morning!"

He hangs back, observing as Ellie effortlessly initiates a conversation with you. Your interaction flows with ease, suggesting a familiarity beyond your brief acquaintance.

While you chat, an unsettling feeling settles within him. There's an inexplicable pull towards the shop owner, despite his attempts to resist. Watching Ellie interact with you stirs a strange longing within him, leaving him more unsettled than before.

Before he can dwell on his thoughts further, Ellie snaps him out of it. "Joel, don’t be a stranger! Introduce yourself, she's the one I've been telling you about."

With a sigh, he steps forward, his approach cautious. As your eyes meet, a peculiar sense of recognition passes between you, as if you've crossed paths in another life.

"Hi," he manages to say, his voice gruff yet not devoid of warmth. "I'm Joel."

As he clasps your hand, a spark ignites between you, a connection unfurling with each passing moment.

“Joel?” you say slowly, as if tasting his name in your mouth. “Joel as in Tommy Miller’s brother?”

Your hand feels soft and delicate as it clasps his own, and he can't help but notice the subtle tremor in your fingers. It's a small detail, but it speaks volumes, hinting at a vulnerability that he hadn't expected from this beautiful stranger.

"Yeah, that's me," he responds with a nod, offering a friendly smile in return. "Tommy's my brother."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Joel. Ellie speaks very highly of you."

As you exchange pleasantries, he finds himself drawn to the warmth in your gaze, a warmth that seems to seep into his very soul. There's an openness about you, a genuineness that he finds both refreshing and disarming.

While you talk, he can't help but be captivated by the way your lips move, the gentle cadence of your voice. It's a strange sensation, this sudden fascination with a woman he's just met, but he finds himself unable to look away.

Your conversation is interrupted by Ellie's playful interruption, and he reluctantly tears his gaze away from you, feeling a pang of disappointment at the thought of leaving your side. But as they follow Ellie into the shop, he can't shake the feeling that meeting you has stirred something within him, something that he can't quite articulate.

Entering the shop, he can't help but notice even more things wrong– the creaky floorboards, the peeling paint, the flickering lights overhead. It's evident that the place is in dire need of renovations.

Despite the less-than-ideal surroundings, Ellie's excitement is contagious, and he finds himself getting swept up in the moment. She points out various flowers, their vibrant hues and delicate petals bringing a welcome burst of color to the dreary environment.

"These lilies are my absolute favorite," Ellie exclaims, thrusting a handful of flowers towards him with a mischievous grin.

He can't suppress a surprised sneeze as the pollen tickles his nose, and they both dissolve into laughter,and momentarily, all his concerns seem to fade away.

But just as they're catching their breath, you enter the room, your presence once again capturing his attention. There's something about you that intrigues him, a warmth and kindness that draws him in effortlessly.

A sheepish smile spreads across his face as your eyes meet. You return the smile, your gaze gentle and understanding, and for a fleeting moment, it feels as though you're the only two people in the room.

“Who helped you fix the place up?” Joel asks you as Ellie runs off to change the water of the vases. “

"Tommy actually," you explain. "He's been a tremendous help, especially with all the repairs."

Joel’s brows knit together and he ignores the way your smile falters as he speaks, “Well, leave it to my brother to do a shit job. This shop won’t last next winter.”

“O–Oh. . .” you hug yourself, thumbs moving along the contours of your arms. His heart sinks in, leave it to him to make someone feel bad.

“Not to say it can’t be fixed,” he continues abruptly. “I can help you out. Wouldn’t want Ellie’s new favorite spot to get buried under the snow.”

“Really?” you gasp, smile returning. “You would do that?”

“‘Course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I just. . . I just wasn’t expecting such an offer thank you. It means the world to me.”

Suddenly Joel feels stiff from how deeply you stare at him, and then he realizes how close they are, only a breath away between their lips. He turns his head, grunting, “Don’t mention it,” a stuttered breath leaves him. “Really. Don’t.”

Your growing smile surprises him, as does your not backing away.

“You got it, Mr. Miller.”

Watching Joel work on fixing the roof of the shop, you can't help but feel a flutter of warmth stir within you. His muscles ripple with each movement, his arms bulging with strength as he lifts heavy beams and hammers nails into place. Beads of sweat glisten on his forehead, catching the sunlight and creating a halo of light around him.

You find yourself mesmerized by the sight, unable to tear your gaze away from the sight of him. His white tank top clings to his chest, damp with sweat, and the short-sleeved flannel he wears hangs open, exposing the tank top underneath. Every movement sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but feel a flush of heat rise to your cheeks.

The sound of his grunts fills the air, low and guttural, and it sends a thrill through you that you can't quite explain. There's something primal about the way he works, a raw energy that draws you in and leaves you feeling breathless.

You watch as he reaches up to adjust a beam, his muscles flexing with the effort, and you can't help but imagine what it would feel like to run your hands over his warm, sweaty skin. The thought sends a shudder coursing through you, and you quickly look away, feeling flustered and embarrassed by the intensity of your thoughts.

But no matter how hard you try to focus on something else, your gaze keeps drifting back to Joel, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. And as you watch him work, you can't help but feel a strange sense of longing stir within.

But for now, all you can do is watch and admire from afar, content to bask in the warmth of Joel's presence as he works tirelessly to repair the roof of the shop. And as you watch him, you can't help but feel a sense of gratitude wash over you.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself with determination as you clutch the bowl of freshly picked black mulberries and raspberries in your hands. With a quick glance up at Joel, who is perched precariously on the ladder, you gather your courage and make your way outside.

"Hey, Joel!" you call out, your voice tinged with nervousness as you approach the ladder. "I brought you some fruit and iced tea. Thought you could use a break."

Joel looks down at you with a grateful smile, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "Thanks. That sounds great."

As he descends the ladder, you can't help but feel a surge of excitement mingled with nervousness. With each step he takes, you steal glances at him, unable to tear your gaze away from the sight of him.

But it's when he reaches the bottom of the ladder and stretches upwards to take the bowl of fruit from your hands that you feel your breath catch in your throat. The movement causes his tank top to ride up slightly, revealing a sliver of his stomach, and you swallow thickly at the sight.

As Joel settles down to enjoy the fruit and iced tea, you find yourself drawn to the empty spot next to him on the porch. With a nervous glance in his direction, you take a seat beside him.

The warmth of the wooden porch beneath you contrasts with the cool breeze that sweeps through, and you can't help but feel a sense of calm settle over you as you sit beside Joel. The silence between you is comfortable, broken only by the occasional sound of birds chirping in the distance.

“Lovely day, ain’t it,” Joel takes a bite of the freshly picked black mulberries, the deep purple juice stains his lips, a stark contrast against the ruggedness of his features, and you find yourself mesmerized by the sight.

The juice glistens in the fading sunlight, tracing a vivid trail along his lips as he savors the sweetness of the fruit. Each movement of his jaw seems deliberate, each bite a study in pleasure as he indulges in the simple pleasure of the moment.

A soft breeze rustles through the trees, lifting strands of his hair and sending them dancing in the golden light. But your gaze remains fixed on his lips.

The silence and sight makes you light-headed and eager to say anything, no matter how idiotic it might be.

“Aren't you a little old to be doing this much heavy lifting?”

“Aren't you a little too young to be lookin’ at me like that?”

Your shoulders rise, blood rushing to your head as you look down. Your heart thuds loudly in your chest. Butterflies flutter madly within you, the wings tickling the insides of your stomach. You only swallow. “Your lips are stained from the mulberry.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

He takes another one, biting down with his lips, he finds your gaze. You watch a tiny drop go down his chin. The two of you are close. So incredibly close. It’s been like this since he started working on the shop. A pull that is too hard to ignore.

“Well,” he breaks the silence. “Better finish up before the sun sets.”

Joel stands and your heart breaks a little. You blink from where you’re sat, staring at him, yearning for him.

“Yeah. Wouldn’t want you trying to find your way home in the dark.”

“You know, I could’ve come here on my own. I always do.”

“I know. Just wanted to make sure you have someone lookin’ after you.”

“For someone to be known as a grump, you’re quite a softie.”

“I’m leavin’.”

“No—!”

Your fingers close around his arm, the warmth of his skin sending a shiver down your spine. For a moment, you find yourself frozen in place, your pulse quickening as you realize just how close you are to him.

Joel's gaze meets yours, and you can see a flicker of something in his eyes, something that makes your heart race even faster. His eyes drop to your lips, lingering there for a moment before snapping back up to meet your gaze. You notice the hints of a fading smile, “You were joking,” you say slowly, letting go of him.

“That I was, wildflower,” he doesn’t move away and neither do you. Your breath catches within your throat, the moment stretching between your two like rubber. Before you can say anything Joel’s eyes flicker to something behind you and he smiles. “I think we’re here.”

As you turn around, your heart skips a beat. The field of flowers stretches out endlessly, a sea of color and beauty that seems to go on forever. The grass has grown taller since the last time you were here, swaying gently in the breeze and creating a soft, rhythmic rustle that fills the air.

The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm golden light over the landscape and setting the flowers ablaze with color. Reds and yellows, blues and purples, a riot of hues that dance and swirl in the gentle breeze.

You take a step forward, the grass crunching beneath your feet as you walk further into the field. The scent of poppies and blue hyacinths fills your nostrils, sweet and intoxicating, and you can't help but close your eyes and breathe it in.

The wind sweeps across the field, sending waves of grass rippling in its wake. The sound is soothing, a gentle whisper that seems to carry you away on a tide of tranquility.

For a moment, you forget about everything else – the worries and the doubts, the uncertainties and the fears. All that matters is the beauty of this moment, the beauty of this place, and the beauty of being here with Joel.

With a rush of emotion swirling within you, you turn to Joel, your heart pounding in your chest as you meet his gaze. He's still standing close, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that takes your breath away.

Without thinking, without hesitating, you lean forward and press your lips to his. At first, Joel is taken aback, his body stiffening in surprise. But then, he caves, his lips moving against yours in a slow, tender rhythm.

His hands come up to cradle your face, his touch gentle yet firm, as if he's afraid you'll disappear if he lets go. You feel his tongue on your bottom lip and open up for him eagerly, the taste of him feels like electricity shooting through you. Heat pools between your legs, Your breasts tingle with the mere thought of having his hands on them, nipples aching and hard.

Joel breaks away briefly, then closes the distance again. Small hisses against your swollen lips over and over until neither of you can breathe. He hungers for it almost. And so do you. “Joel,” you whisper, eyes cloudy. “Please.”

“Is that what you want, wildflower?” he drags his nose down the side of your cheek, facial hair scratching delightfully against the sensitive skin of your neck. “For me to fuck you here? Right out in the open?” his voice trembles. “Like animals?”

“God, yes—” your insides clench. “I would want nothing more. Been thinking about you since the day I met you, your hands, your mouth, you as a whole.”

His hands drop to your ass and he gives the tender flesh a strong squeeze, “You want me?”

“I do.”

You suddenly find yourself on the ground, the grass tickling your exposed legs and arms, the skirt of your dress rolled up to your waist. Joel’s weight is a welcoming comfort on top of you, another gust of warm wind blows. With a groan, he pulls down the sweetheart neckline of your dress, exposing both your breasts. While holding one, he kisses the other, drawing the stiff nipple into his mouth. He sucks harshly, your body jolting with pleasure. The soaking mess between your legs grows.

“Joel,” you moan, back arching. “Fuck—”

He swirls the tip of his tongue around the nipple and grazes his teeth against it. Calloused fingers play with the other. Your mind is swimming in pleasure. He brings the skirt of your dress further up and traces his lips down the fabric, when you look down, you see him between your legs, his eyes darker than normal as he stares into your soul. The tips of his fingers dance along the elastic of your panties, asking for permission.

You breathe out a yes, barely audible, but he nods and tugs the fabric down. When he latches his mouth on to you, the world stops. His mouth feels divine. His tongue delves between your folds, the bridge of his nose rubbing against your clit. You shudder against him and he moans into you. The reverberations of the sound force a gasp out of you and you swear you feel him smiling.

His fingers trace patterns along your thighs, teasing and stroking as his mouth works wonders between your legs. You're on the edge, the pleasure building up with each flick of his tongue. You reach down and bury your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, guiding him where you need him the most.

Joel picks up the pace, his tongue moving faster, his fingers slipping inside of you. You can feel your body starting to tighten, the coil in your stomach about to unravel. You grip onto him tighter, your hips bucking against his mouth, and with one final flick of his tongue, you come undone.

You cry out his name, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm. Joel continues to lightly lick and suck, drawing out your pleasure until you're completely spent. He makes his way back up to your lips, kissing you deeply as you both catch your breath.

“That was…” you trail off, unable to find the right words for the mind-blowing experience you just had.

“Amazin’,” Joel finishes for you.

You nod, still a little breathless. You wrap your arms around him, pressing your body against his. Joel's hands roam over your back, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You can feel his erection against your thigh, and you know that he needs release just as much as you do.

“Been so long since I’ve tasted somethin’ this sweet,” he rasps. “Thank you.”

You hear the blood rushing in your ears, “You’re the sweet one,” you mumble, tenderly touching the scratchy surface of his cheek. “So sweet.”

He smiles and as he kisses the curve of your palm, shuffles above you, starting to get up. A deep frown forms between your brows. “And where are you going?” you pout, wrapping your arms around him. You feel the outline of his length as he lowers himself once more, the tips of your noses brushing against one another.

“I thought you wanted to gather some flowers.”

“Not yet,” you murmur, eyes glazed. “At least, not before feeling you inside me.”

“Fuck, darlin’,” he lets out a whimpering breath, grinding himself against your bare cunt. “You really know how to get a man goin’.”

“Prove it.”

His eyes flicker with an emotion you can’t quite describe. His breath stutters, then, without even looking, he unbuckles himself, never breaking eye contact. Joel’s hair ruffles with the wind, yet he doesn’t even blink. The head of his cock catches against your clit, ripping a moan from your throat. He fills you with one sloppy thrust, the length of him stretching you enough to have your eyes rolling to the back of your skull.

“Joel—Oh my god—”

“That’s it, good girl, takin’ my cock so well. Feels good?”

Slack-jawed, you nod. He goes deeper. “Want you to feel me for weeks, wildflower. And I want you to think of me every time you come to this god—” thrust. “—damn” thrust. “—field.”

You can only moan at his words, his hands grip your lovehandles, squeezing and pulling you closer to him every time he rocks forward. His head falls into the crook of your neck, sinking his teeth into the sensitive skin, he sucks. Your body convulses, shaking against him.

Sparks ricochet through every limb of your body as you feel the heat pooling in your core. Joel moves his hand from your lower back to cup your breast, his fingers teasing and plucking at your nipple. The pleasure ricochets through your body, making you feel like you're on fire.

“Come for me, darlin’.” Joel growls into your ear, his voice rough and primal. “Come on my cock.”

His words send you over the edge, your body shaking and convulsing beneath him as he continues to thrust into you relentlessly. The world blurs around you, all your senses consumed by the feeling of Joel's body against yours.

"Joel—" you moan, your voice lost in the wind as you reach your peak.

He groans in response, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chases his own release. After one final, deep thrust, he pulls out and spills over your stomach, his body shaking against yours. You both ride out the waves of pleasure until finally, you collapse against each other, panting and spent.

You lay in the flower field, a tangled mess of limbs and sweaty bodies. Joel's arms are still wrapped tightly around you, his face buried in your neck as he tries to catch his breath. You run your fingers through his hair, feeling the warmth of his body.

"I've never felt anything like this before," you say quietly, almost to yourself.

Joel lifts his head to look at you, his eyes softening. "Me neither, wildflower. Me neither."

As the sun begins to set, you both lay there, entwined in each other's arms. The field has become a symbol of something more than beauty. And as long as those flowers bloom, you know your love for each other will continue to grow.

A week.

A week without hearing from him, seeing him, touching him.

A painful week.

It’s almost as if he never existed. As if the moment in your favorite field was nothing but your imagination. The only reason why you know it's real is because Ellie still comes by every day, and despite knowing it’s impossible, you still feel him deep inside. It only heightens whenever you have to travel back to the field to gather flowers for the shop.

You watch as Ellie places more daisies into a vase. She’s been her usual self, joking around, telling you about all the details of her life. It’s hard not to ask her about Joel and how he’s been.

Some nasty part of your mind whispers words of discouragement, telling you he only wanted you for your body, for your charm, and got what he wanted. Your heart clenches. It might be true. You were young after all, emotional, broken. He’d already gone through all that, killed to stay alive, for loved ones, gone through grief—why would he want to take on another’s problems as well?

“Hey, Ellie?”

She turns to you, eyes slightly wide due to the rasp of your voice, “Yeah boss?”

“Can you watch the shop for a second, I have something I need to do that I forgot about.”

You don't wait for her nod as you exit the shop. You know he’s home. He has to be.

Luckily it doesn’t take you long to reach their house, your knock is loud and swift. You know you’ve taken him by surprise by the expression when he opens the door. His mouth is slightly ajar, his brows knit together.

“What are you—”

“I came to talk,” you brush past him, heading inside. Joel lingers at the door but soon after follows you inside anyway.

He sighs, “What do you want to talk about?”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what's to come. "Us," you reply, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside you. "I need to know what happened, Joel. Why you've been avoiding me."

Joel's jaw clenches at your words, his gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to meet yours. "I ain't good for you," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "You deserve better than someone like me."

You feel a surge of anger rising within you at his words, frustration bubbling up to the surface. "That's for me to decide, Joel," you say, your voice tinged with defiance. "I'm not some fragile flower that needs to be protected. I can make my own choices, and right now, I choose you."

Joel's expression softens slightly at your words, but there's still a hint of sadness in his eyes. "You don't know what you're saying," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm a mess, a broken man with too much blood on his hands. You deserve someone who can give you the world, not someone who can barely keep himself together. You’re young. You still have so much ahead of you—"

“No! That’s not what I want. I want you, you’re the only person who’s made me feel like. . . like myself. . .before. And wanted.”

Your voice begins to shake, you see the hesitation within his body, hod his hand slightly moves forward to hold you, to touch you, but he doesn’t.

“I can’t do this to you,” his hands slide into his pockets, he gestures to the door. “Get out.”

The blood freezes in your veins, your eyes grow wide, your chest constricts, “What?”

“I said to get out,” he repeats, a little louder this time. “Get out, please.”

And you do.

“You need to get your shit together.”

“Language, Ellie, dammit.”

She glares at him from across the table. It’s an early morning, earlier than he’d liked. He’s been feeling hallowed out ever since your visit. He could see the hurt in your eyes, the betrayal. He knew that he’d broken something when avoiding you, something tender and not so easily fixable.

But what was he supposed to do? You were young, he didn’t want to trap you, didn’t want you to throw the best years of your life for an old man like him.

Briefly, he squeezes his eyes shut. His head hurts. All he can think about is you, your body, how eager it was to take him, the delectable curves he couldn’t get enough of.

He misses your taste on his tongue.

“She’s miserable too, you know.”

Joel’s eye snap wide open. “Who?”

“You know who,” she shakes her head. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but she’s definitely upset and so are you—Just fix it. Don’t be an asshole”

He let’s out a sigh, she’s right. He needs to fix this somehow. Joel stares at Ellie, her words hitting him harder than he expected. He hadn't realized just how much his actions had affected not only you but also Ellie. The weight of his own guilt settles heavily on his shoulders, a constant reminder of the mess he's made.

"Yeah," he mutters, his voice rough with emotion. "I know."

He runs a hand through his hair, the tension in his muscles making every movement feel heavy and strained. He knows he needs to make things right, to somehow find a way to mend the rift he's created between you and him.

But how? How could he possibly make things right after everything that's happened?

"I'll talk to her," he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll fix it."

Ellie nods in approval, her expression softening slightly as she looks at him. "Good," she says, her tone gentle. "Because I don't want to see either of you hurting anymore."

She was right and he knew it.

“The shop’s closed today,” Ellie says as he grabbed his jacket. “I don’t know where she is.”

But he did. He knew exactly where you would be. The place he tasted you, the place he felt your body against him.

Joel's heart sinks as he approaches the flower field and sees you sitting there, your shoulders hunched over as you hug your knees to your chest. He can hear your sobs from a distance, the sound echoing through the quiet morning air.

For a moment, he hesitates, unsure of what to do or say. But then, with a heavy sigh, he pushes aside his doubts and makes his way towards you.

As he draws closer, he can see your whole body trembling with the force of your emotions. His heart aches at the sight, knowing that he's the cause of your pain. He kneels infront of you, gently touching your wrists.

"Hey," he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's me, Joel."

You startle at the sound of his voice, lifting your head to look at him with tear-streaked eyes. For a moment, there's a flicker of surprise in your gaze, followed by a wave of raw emotion.

"Joel?" you choke out, your voice thick with tears. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to find you," he says, his voice filled with regret. "I couldn't stand the thought of you hurtin’ like this."

"I thought... I thought you didn't care," You sniffle, wiping away the tears with the back of your hand.

Joel reaches out to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch light and tender. "I care more than you know," he says. "I made a mistake, a big one, and I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I just didn’t want you to. . .I didn’t think I deserved someone like you."

"I missed you," you admit softly, tears still streaming down your cheeks.

Joel's heart clenches at your words, a rush of emotion flooding through him. Without hesitation, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close as you bury your face against his chest.

"I missed you too, wildflower," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "And I promise, I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy."

He hears the smile in your voice.

“You already do.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #plus size!reader #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic

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verofleur · 4 months ago

Text

A Swan's Embrace

‎

pairing : five hargreeves x fem!reader

wc : 13.7k+

warnings : takes place a bit after season three (only mentioned like twice), mentions and descriptions of death / violence, uses of the term “yn”, and a few alterations to the original plot of the show

synopsis : they had lost each other once before, only to find themselves face to face again. perhaps it was fate’s way of giving them another chance to be together — or maybe just another form of torture. only time could tell.

a/n ⦂ the ending of this one made it worthy to finish writing. apologies for any mistakes ofc and the few alterations, though i hope you guys enjoy !! requests are still open btw + series coming soon, so pls look forward to that. tons of love — n <𝟹 ‎ ‎ ‎

‎

“I guess you're not that bad to have around..” he said, his eyes fixed straight ahead. She glanced at him, a small smile tugging at her lips. His words were genuine.

Have you ever experienced that moment at the end of the day, when you lie in bed beneath a dark, unadorned ceiling? The silence becomes noticeable, pressing in from all sides, as your mind spins in a chaotic whirl of thoughts, lacking any clear direction.

Gradually, the weight of the facade you’ve so carefully constructed begins to lift. This facade was your armor, your second nature, designed to shield you from the world’s relentless demands and its indifferent inhabitants. Alone in the quiet, you let it all fall away, exposing the raw vulnerability beneath.

In that fragile stillness, a single question reverberates endlessly in your mind, like the persistent drip of a leaky faucet : How did it come to this?

‎

She knew precisely how she had ended up here. Slowly beginning to lose all hope of change and the ability to move forward as she once had. It was her choice to tread the path of denial rather than face the harsh truth head-on. Now, that decision tormented her with unyielding self-doubt, growing more insistent with every step she took down that road.

It was simple, really. Tragic, yet undeniably simple.

Amidst the haze of pain and the fortress of walls she had meticulously built, there was a time when Yn radiated genuine happiness. Her laughter was unrestrained, her smiles effortless, and she embraced each day with a heart wide open, finding beauty even in the most fleeting moments. That was before the weight of her choices began to press down on her, before denial became her refuge.

Recruited at just sixteen, Yn was thrust into the clandestine world of the Commission, an organization dedicated to safeguarding the Earth’s timeline. This recruitment was no ordinary decision; it carried a weight so profound that it would forever change the trajectory of her life.

Her role was that of a time correction assassin. As an agent of fate, she was charged with maintaining the delicate balance of history by removing those who threatened its continuity. It sounded insane when put into words, but she never dwelled on it, nor on the life that had soon slipped into a dim memory. The cases eventually consumed her, demanding she forsake her morals and take lives merely because their names appeared on a piece of paper or in a file.

Though the nature of her work was undeniably gruesome, those within the Commission who knew her well would offer remarkably consistent descriptions when asked about her character.

She was like a warm, sunny day after months of cold, freezing nights, effortlessly bringing smiles to those around her. Her positive spirit seemed like an eternal spring, her presence making others feel at ease. Her laughter was infectious, her comfort genuine, and her eyes sparkled with an innocent mischief, a curiosity about the world that remained untouched by the harsh realities she would later encounter.

Even as a child, she had a remarkable ability to find beauty in the mundane. While others were captivated by grand adventures and heroic tales, she delighted in the simplicity of a blooming flower or the rhythmic patter of rain against her window. This innate sense of wonder, though it set her apart, also made her endearing. Friends sought her out for comfort and advice, drawn to her sunnier, more hopeful perspective.

The Commission was the last place anyone would have expected her to end up, especially in the correction division. It wasn’t truly her choice; the job was thrust upon her. Yet, she accepted it with the same quiet grace that had once marked her approach to every simple joy.

Now in her early twenties, she had grown into her role with a remarkable blend of skill and subtlety, surpassing expectations without ever seeking recognition. Her approach was neither overzealous nor indifferent; she performed each task with great efficiency, provided support when needed, and stepped into leadership when called upon. She wouldn’t describe those decisions as mere obedience. She just had a keen sense of doing what felt morally right for her or those around her.

As good as she was, some would argue that one of her weaknesses lay in her tendency to let emotions guide her over logic.

A defining moment of this flaw surfaced during a mission, taking place around the 50s. Her target, despite their grave crimes, displayed a tender affection for a pet cat. The gentle care with which the target nurtured the animal sparked a deep hesitation within her. Faced with the incongruity of violence against such innocence, she found herself unable to reconcile the act of killing with the peaceful presence of the pet, leading her to falter.

That moment of internal conflict led her to establish a stringent personal rule: never to undertake missions involving pets. This rule became a steadfast principle, and fortunately, it remained intact.

Away from the demands of her official duties, she had a knack for building connections amidst the ever-shifting landscape of her workplace. Regardless of the constant influx of new faces and the roster's frequent changes, she managed to forge a tight-knit circle of colleagues. These were the individuals with whom she shared her breaks and quiet moments, creating a semblance of stability and camaraderie in an otherwise transient environment.

Among her closest allies was Dot, a crucial partner in their intricate web of operations. Dot's role was to track and identify threats that could disrupt the world's delicate balance. Their relationship went beyond mere professional interaction; it was a deep partnership built on mutual trust and understanding. Dot supplied Yn with essential intelligence and cutting-edge gadgets for her missions, but their connection was far more than just professional. They shared late-night conversations that explored the deeper meanings of their work, confided in each other amidst a world that demanded unwavering strength, and found solace in the occasional office gossip.

Even despite the demanding nature of her job, Yn was rarely alone. Her presence was a constant in the bustling corridors of the work place, whether she was engaged in solitary training, delving into cases, or simply enjoying a quiet meal while reading. She appeared content, immersed in her routines.

Or so she believed.

The term "once" now carries a heavy, poignant weight. What she had once cherished with all her heart had somehow transformed into a source of profound resentment, forever entwined with the reasons that led her to her fateful state.

“What’s this?” he asked, his gaze fixed on the cup of warm black coffee on his desk. His tone was calm, but his expression was all sharpness.

She glanced at him quickly, a hint of nervousness in her voice. “Uh.. I noticed you were working late and skipped lunch. I thought you might need a little pick-me-up for the rest of the night ─ assuming you’re planning to stay longer, of course.” She offered him a small, hopeful smile to accompany her words.

It didn’t take long for Yn to catch wind of the news.

The air crackled with whispers ─ murmurs exchanged over lunch, fragments of conversation during idle moments, and the oddly gleeful chatter of the Handler, who brimmed with enthusiasm about a new recruit whose name she couldn’t quite recall. It all stirred the atmosphere within the place.

She wasn’t one to overlook the subtleties of office gossip. Gradually, she pieced together that the source of all this buzz was a newcomer. The people around her were not particularly skilled at keeping secrets; their careless murmurs and occasional slip-ups unveiled fragments of information about... him.

The rumors painted a captivating picture. He was said to be the sole survivor of a 2019 apocalypse, an event heralded as doomsday. Somehow, he had traveled forward in time, navigating a ravaged world alone for years. Whispers about a companion named Delores circulated, but these tales were quickly debunked ─ the man had arrived alone. Unfortunately, Yn had missed his arrival, having been on an extended mission at the time.

Upon her return, Dot could barely contain her excitement about the new recruit, who was already being hailed as a legend. The stories of his prowess were nothing short of remarkable, especially given his short time with the Commission. His skills had quickly surpassed those of several seasoned assassins, stirring both envy and admiration among his peers. Yn, however, found herself particularly captivated by his story, intrigued by the enigmatic figure who had endured so much.

The prospect of working alongside someone with such exceptional skills filled Yn with genuine excitement, a feeling that grew steadily when she learned that he had been assigned to her division.

On another late evening, Yn found herself enveloped in the soft glow of the office's dim light, listening intently to Dot’s animated recounting of the new recruit’s latest exploits. Dot’s eyes gleamed with excitement as she described the recruit’s recent mission, highlighting his exceptional ability to handle the demanding tasks set by the organization with remarkable skill and ease.

Yn’s thoughts wandered, picturing the trials he must have faced ─ bearing the solitary weight of being the last survivor and the immense strength needed to forge ahead alone. The notion of enduring such hardships, especially at a young age, evoked a profound sense of empathy within her.

But it wasn’t just his story that captivated her; it was the resilience woven into it.

She understood the relentless pressure of being thrust into a world that demanded more than one’s limits. Her own early days of recruitment had been fraught with the weight of preserving the timeline and the emotional toll of her work, as she struggled to adapt to a new reality. She could relate to his struggles, at least in part, and that kinship only deepened her small fascination.

"You don’t really mean that; you’re just stressed out," she said softly, her voice trembling slightly but remaining steady. "... I’ll give you some space for now. Just talk to me when you’re ready." As she walked toward the office door, her footsteps were almost hesitant.

"Yn, wait—" he began with a sigh, but his words were cut off as she gently closed the door behind her.

His name was Five, she discovered.

He was the same age as her, and yet despite working in the same expansive facility, she had not fully encountered him. He had been with the Commission for a month by now, but the large corridors and relentless demands of her duties had kept her from making more than fleeting glimpses of him. She’d seen his office and caught glimpses of him in passing, but her curiosity remained only partially satisfied.

Five. The name itself was enigmatic and intriguing. It seemed almost too simple for someone with a history as extraordinary as his. His reputation for exceptional combat skills, unparalleled intellect in solving cases, and the rare ability to time travel by himself unaided by the Commission only deepened her curiosity about him.

What was he like beyond the cold efficiency of his work? What was his true self like?

Yn knew he was special, gifted with extraordinary abilities ─ a truth she was familiar with. When she first joined the Commission, she had heard tales of children born under extraordinary circumstances, each endowed with powers that defied the ordinary. Back then, those stories felt like a myth. However, discovering that Five was one of these uniquely gifted individuals had rekindled her interest and dispelled her previous skepticism, transforming legend into a living reality.

Her curiosity was only piqued once more when she was summoned to the Handler’s office one evening. Dot, her voice filled with barely contained excitement, had informed Yn earlier in the day that her presence was required in the main office. Although Yn was uncertain about the reason for the summons, she couldn’t help but speculate that it might involve the mysterious, yet well-known Five.

The walk to the Handler’s office was brisk, punctuated by brief exchanges of pleasantries with her colleagues. Yn’s customary bright smile elicited warm responses as she passed by, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floors. Dot’s excitement was almost contagious, and Yn found herself feeling a twinge of anticipation as they approached the grand office.

Her relationship with the Handler was complex and multifaceted. Known for her favoritism toward select recruits, the Handler had a particular affinity for Yn. She often summoned her to the office for impromptu discussions, assigned her missions that seemed specially crafted for her skills, and frequently chose her for key roles within the division. Their relationship was characterized by a blend of mentorship and preferential treatment, creating a dynamic that was both supportive and marked by a distinct favoritism.

While they got along well enough, Yn couldn’t help but sense an undercurrent of unease beneath the Handler’s polished exterior. In spite of the pivotal role she played within the organization, she felt a persistent unease about the Handler’s motivations. And although her leadership was undeniably effective, contributing to the division’s smooth operation, Yn harbored suspicions that her decisions were often driven by self-serving motives rather than purely strategic or organizational interests.

Though, she refrained from voicing her concerns, well aware of the severe consequences faced by those who questioned the Handler. The atmosphere surrounding her office seemed to always be thick with an unspoken tension, leaving Yn with an internal shiver whenever she thought too deeply about it.

Arriving at the grand, imposing door of the Handler’s office, Dot knocked three times with practiced precision. Yn straightened her posture, drawing in a steadying breath to calm her nerves.

“Come in,” the Handler’s voice resonated from within, smooth and authoritative.

Yn pushed open the heavy door, stepping into the richly adorned office. Antique furniture and curious artifacts lined the room, each piece meticulously arranged. Behind a large mahogany desk sat the older woman, her sharp eyes gleaming as she regarded the two recruits. A delicate cup of tea rested in her right hand, steam curling up in soft tendrils.

“Yn, Dot..” she greeted, her voice carrying a subtle note of welcome as she set down the porcelain cup. “Please, have a seat.”

Yn and Dot settled into the plush chairs facing the desk. The Handler’s gaze lingered on Yn, a glimmer of something unspoken in her eyes. “Yn,” she began, her tone carrying a subtle hint of eccentricity. “I’ve summoned you here for a special small assignment, one that’s uniquely suited to your skills.”

“As you may have heard...” the Handler began, her tone carrying a hint of intrigue, “we have a new recruit ─ Five Hargreeves. He’s been making quite an impression, and I believe he would benefit from working closely with someone of your… experience. I need you to keep a close eye on him.” Her words were wrapped in an enigmatic quality, her gaze locked intently on Yn.

Yn's eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Oh.. well, then I'd be glad to assist," she replied, a small smile spreading across her face. Her assumption had been correct, though the task of 'keeping an eye on him' did feel somewhat peculiar.

The Handler’s expression softened into a rare smile, and she let out a soft chuckle. “I knew I could count on you. He shall join you on your next mission, which is only a few days away. You’ll receive the details in due time. Consider it an.. opportunity to assess his skills and see how well he integrates into our operations.” She raised her cup to her lips, taking a deliberate sip, her eyes never leaving the young woman infront of her.

Yn nodded, a flicker of excitement in her eyes that she quickly masked with composure. Her hands rested neatly in her lap. “Understood. I’ll ensure a thorough evaluation and report once we return.”

“Good,” the Handler said, leaning back in her chair with a satisfied sigh. “That will be all for now. You both may go.” She made a dismissive gesture with a slight flick of her wrist, her gaze drifting toward one of the grand windows that framed her office. “And Dot, don’t forget that report I asked for… two weeks ago,” she added, a small glimmer of annoyance in her voice.

“Y-Yes, ma’am! I’ll make sure to deliver it tomorrow morning,” Dot said, rising abruptly from the lounge chair, a smile spreading across her face.

With a small, anticipatory smile, Yn and Dot exited the office. As they walked back through the corridors, Dot’s enthusiasm bubbled over. “Looks like you’ll finally get to meet him, bestie! I’m thrilled for you,” she said, her excitement evident as she adjusted her glasses.

Yn chuckled, her mind buzzing with possibilities. Despite her own swirling thoughts, Dot’s excitement was a welcome comfort. “I guess so, Dot,” she replied, sharing in her friend’s infectious energy.

The next few days were a whirlwind of preparation. Yn immersed herself in the mission details, meticulously reviewing every aspect to ensure nothing was overlooked. A blend of anticipation and anxiety simmered within her. This mission was pivotal not just for its success but also for gaining insight into Five, whom she had yet to fully understand.

Finally, when the day had arrived, she found herself back in the Handler’s office, this time with Five beside her. He wore the standard Commission uniform with an effortless grace. His calm demeanor and composed expression were a striking contrast to her own slightly fluttering nerves. He exuded sophistication, his presence a blend of confidence that was both intimidating and captivating.

“Five,” the Handler began, her voice smooth and authoritative, “meet Yn. The woman I mentioned before. She will be your partner for this mission ─ and potentially beyond.” As she spoke, she continued to shuffle through papers on her desk with practiced efficiency.

Five turned to the Handler, his expression a mixture of surprise and resolve. “I don’t need a partner—”

“Ah, well, that’s a shame, isn’t it?” The Handler cut him off with a dismissive wave of her hand, before fixing her gaze on both of them. “Yn, Five has demonstrated exceptional skills thus far. I expect you two to work together seamlessly, understand?”

Yn exchanged a glance with Five, her posture straightening as she offered a small, reassuring smile. “Of course. We’ll do our best.”

Five rolled his eyes discreetly, his annoyance barely concealed beneath a facade of composure. The Handler observed their interaction with a tight-lipped smile, her gaze unwavering.

“Good,” she said, her tone leaving no room for error. “Your target is a high-profile individual. Unfortunately, the last two recruits I sent were unsuccessful. Precision and coordination are paramount. You both are the best we have, and I expect nothing less than perfection.”

With a practiced motion, she stood, retrieving a briefcase from beside her desk. Her eyes briefly met theirs, a silent reminder of the gravity of their task.

“Do not disappoint me,” the Handler said with a stern finality, her expression hardening before she quickly replaced it with her usual preppy smile. She handed Five the briefcase with a practiced grace.

Yn nodded, her gaze shifting to Five. He appeared slightly tense, his expression a blend of irritation and resignation, but he offered a curt nod in response. The Handler’s words lingered in the air, a weight of expectation pressing down on them.

As they exited the Handler’s office and began walking down the corridor, Yn turned to Five with a bright, enthusiastic smile. “So, this is exciting, isn’t it? Our first mission together! I’ve heard quite a bit about you. I’m Yn, though I’m pretty sure she mentioned that already. Just wanted to make sure you knew...” she added softly, her smile warm and genuine.

Five responded with a small scoff and a slight shake of his head, his eyes scanning the hallway ahead. One hand rested in his pocket, while the other gripped the handle of the briefcase with a tightness that betrayed his irritation.

Unfazed, she pressed on with her attempt at conversation. “I’ve been with The Commission for a while now,” she began, her voice light and conversational. “It’s a bit crazy, isn’t it? All the time travel and missions. I find it intriguing… well, except for all the killing and such. But what can you do, right?” She chuckled softly, her hands clasped behind her back as they walked in step through the corridor.

Turning to him with a curious look, she asked, “So, how are you finding it here so far?”

Five’s gaze remained forward, his demeanor reflecting clear irritation. “…It’s fine,” he mumbled, his tone flat and almost monotone. This was the last thing he needed, he thought.

They soon arrived at the armory, where the clatter of weapons and the hum of machinery filled the air. Yn began selecting her gear, her fingers moving with practiced ease over various items. She glanced at Five, hoping to bridge the gap between them.

“I’ve heard you can time travel without the equipment,” she said, her tone warm with genuine curiosity. “That’s pretty amazing. If you don’t mind me asking, how does it work exactly?” She continued to scan the array of weapons, her eyes lingering on a sleek butterfly knife and a sturdy pistol.

Five’s gaze shifted to her, his eyes narrowing slightly. “It’s complicated,” he replied curtly, a hint of defensiveness in his tone.

She chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m sure it is. But I’d love to hear more about it sometime. Maybe we can chat after the mis—” She began, picking up her chosen weapons and absently flicking the knife open and closed.

“Can we just focus on the mission?” Five cut in, his voice edged with impatience. He turned to her, a small frown creasing his brow as he met her gaze.

Yn stopped twirling the knife, her smile fading as she shifted her focus. “Right, sorry,” she said softly, her tone apologetic. She carefully stowed the knife and pistol in their respective places on her waistband.

Five shook his head with a dismissive sigh, his attention now fully absorbed in the assortment of weapons and gadgets before them. Yn sighed inwardly but kept her expression upbeat. Determined to break through his stoic exterior, she resolved to be patient and persistent, even if it took time.

“I’d be more than glad to help,” she said, her posture straight and her tone resolute as she made her offer. The conviction in her voice took him by surprise, though he quickly masked his astonishment. “But why?” he asked, his voice tinged with hesitation and doubt. They weren’t even entirely close, and this gesture seemed unexpected.

“It’s what you want, isn’t it? To save your family... leave this place behind,” she replied, her gaze steady and understanding. “If that’s your end goal, then I’d rather support you than stand in your way. I can see how much it means to you... even if you don't wanna admit it.” She concluded with a small, knowing smile, her eyes reflecting genuine empathy as she observed him.

The mission unfolded smoothly, a testament to the skill of its participants. Five outlined the plan with precise clarity, and Yn listened attentively, recognizing the thoughtfulness behind his strategy. She trusted his judgment implicitly, and it was clear she was right to do so.

Their operation proceeded as planned until an unexpected ambush forced them into combat. Yn typically dreaded these moments, but with Five’s expertise, the violence was manageable. The scene, grim and chaotic ─ blood spilled, the harsh clatter of her butterfly knife against flesh, Five’s grunts of exertion ─ was grim by any standard, but they remained focused, undisturbed by the carnage around them.

Even though their interactions were limited, Yn observed him closely. Amid the chaos, she noticed his fighting style ─ a unique rhythm, almost elegant in its precision. Despite the violence, Five fought with a fluid grace, seemingly detached from the brutality. He used his powers sparingly, only twice to bridge gaps between enemies, but his movements were so adept, he hardly appeared to struggle.

For anyone else, his detached demeanor might be unsettling. But for Yn, it sparked a flicker of admiration. His calm mastery, his ability to make violence seem almost like an art form. It seemed almost captivating.

As the last adversary had fallen and the tension began to ebb, she let out a deep breath, her face streaked with a few smudges of blood. She glanced at Five, her voice gentle yet laced with a note of relief. “Well, that went well, didn’t it?” she said softly, hoping for some acknowledgment.

Five, however, remained absorbed in his task, grunting softly as he wrested the briefcase from one of the unconscious assailants. The briefcase’s presence was a slight puzzle to Yn ─ she had no idea how it had ended up in the hands of their opponents, but Five's careful handling suggested he intended to be more vigilant with it in the future.

With a look of expectation, he turned his gaze toward the woman as he prepared the case for their return. Recognizing his unspoken cue, she straightened her disheveled appearance, her smile unwavering despite the blood staining her face. She walked over to him, maintaining her composure.

Five observed her quietly, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he shook his head slightly, almost imperceptibly. Both of them placed their hands on the briefcase, and with a synchronized effort, they were transported back to the Commission, leaving the battlefield behind.

They reappeared outside the briefcase room, the familiar yet unsettling sensation of the time jump still lingering in Yn's body. She took a few deep breaths, steadying herself. Though she had grown accustomed to these jumps, they still left her feeling disoriented sometimes. Beside her, Five exhaled quietly, seemingly unfazed, as he walked into the briefcase room to return the case. He discreetly glanced around at the other cases, taking note of their placements, before stepping back outside after a minute.

He paused briefly, surprised to see Yn still there, patiently waiting. She was wiping a few bloodstains from her clothes, humming softly to herself with a small, almost contented smile on her face.

Five let out a faint, quiet scoff, masking his curiosity with indifference. Without another word, he turned on his heel, heading toward the Handler's office. "Let's go," he ordered, his tone quiet but firm.

She snapped out of her thoughts, straightening her posture in surprise. She quickly fell into step beside him, her pace matching his as they made their way down the corridor.

The debriefing went swiftly. Both Yn and Five delivered their reports with precision, detailing the mission’s success. The Handler listened intently, her face lighting up with satisfaction at their feedback and accomplishments. She complimented them, her eyes glinting with a curious, almost predatory interest as she observed the two assassins.

When they were finally dismissed for the night, the Handler reminded Yn to submit her evaluation of Five the next morning. His face tightened into a faint scowl at the mention of the report, but he said nothing.

As the office doors closed behind them, the quiet hallway enveloped them, punctuated only by the faint hum of late-night activity within the building.

With a composed demeanor and a gentle smile, Yn turned to him. “At least that smoothly. I think we made a pretty good team." She paused for a moment, her gaze steady and sincere. “By the way, if you ever wanna talk or need anything, just know I’m here. I know adjusting can be tough—”

Without a word, Five continued walking, his back to her, making no move to acknowledge her offer. Her smile slighly faltered as she watched him retreat down the corridor. A sigh escaped her lips, her breath mingling with the cool air of the empty hallway.

“Well, goodnight then!” she called softly, her voice carrying a hint of disappointment. Despite her efforts to bridge the gap between them, it seemed Five preferred to remain distant. Yn stood alone for a moment longer, her eyes fixed on the shadowy figure of Five as he disappeared into the darkness, the corridor growing a bit colder in his absence. Maybe next time, she thought, holding on to a small glimmer of hope.

“I wonder what it’d be like to have your powers,” she mused with a chuckle, putting away a few files on her desk as she prepared to clock out for the night. The soft glow of the desk lamp cast gentle shadows around the room.

Five, leaning against a nearby wall with his hands in his pockets, stared at the ceiling. “They’re not that special,” he mumbled with a scoff.

She finished tidying her desk, casting a small, warm smile in his direction. “Well, I think they’re pretty cool, no matter what you say,” she said softly, her tone genuine.

His gaze shifted briefly toward her, his expression betraying a flicker of curiosity.

True to her word, the Handler had seen to it that, only two weeks after their initial mission, Yn and Five were officially assigned as partners. While they still occasionally undertook solo missions, more often than not, they found themselves side by side. Yn greeted the news with enthusiasm, though she couldn’t say the same for Five.

Life at the Commission soon settled into a monotonous rhythm for both Yn and Five, marked by a relentless cycle of missions and the increasingly predictable pattern of Yn’s attempts to break through Five’s stony exterior. She couldn’t fathom how a partnership could function without some semblance of camaraderie, so she took it upon herself to bridge that gap. Despite her persistent efforts, however, Five remained distant, his silence almost a rebuke to her cheerful attempts at friendship.

Some of her colleagues had cautioned her that trying to befriend him was a futile endeavor, pointing to his unyielding indifference toward her gestures of kindness.

But she dismissed their warnings with a quiet resolve, refusing to let their doubts seep into her spirit. Dot, ever supportive, continued to bolster her efforts, offering words of encouragement whenever uncertainty threatened to take root. Yn told herself that if Five truly wished for her to stop, he would voice it plainly. Yet, his responses ─ or the conspicuous absence of them ─ were limited to walking away or retreating into silence. To her, this was far from a defeat; in fact, she secretly considered his lack of outright rejection as a small, unspoken triumph.

And so it remained that way ─ until, inevitably, it didn’t.

The date marked nearly three months since Yn and Five had been paired as partners, a time filled with missions and tension. They had just returned from what could only be described as a near-disastrous mission. It had all been going smoothly until they separated to fulfill their respective roles. Yn's task was straightforward yet fraught with risk ─ she was to assassinate the final target. Five, on the other hand, was assigned to infiltrate the estate, gathering critical intel that would ensure the mission’s success.

As Yn prepared for the shot, a rare sense of anxiety settled over her. Despite her experience, this mission carried an unusual weight. One shot was all it would take, and failure was not an option. But as the moment of action approached, she faltered.

The target’s wife entered the scene, and through the scope, Yn saw something that gave her pause ─ the woman’s smile as she greeted her husband, the way they embraced, the contented sigh she let out. It was a simple, human moment, but it hit Yn like a punch to the gut.

Her hands trembled as she aimed the gun, her resolve crumbling. She couldn’t do it. Her body, usually so attuned to the demands of her job, refused to cooperate. The hesitation was costly. Security forces within the estate spotted her, forcing her to engage in a violent struggle that quickly drew the attention of her intended target. He barely made it out of the grand house before a bullet found him. His body crumpled to the ground, and as it did, Yn saw Five standing there, a small frown of anger creasing his face.

Without a word, Five appeared at her side, seamlessly joining the fray to eliminate the remaining security personnel with her. His movements were efficient, precise, a stark contrast to her earlier faltering. And as soon as the last threat was neutralized, Five grabbed her arm and, without a moment’s hesitation, used the case to return them to the Commission. The mission had been salvaged, but the tension between them hung in the air, heavy and unspoken.

That night had sparked an argument between them, though in hindsight, it was more a clash of frayed nerves than true animosity. The day had burdened them both with relentless stress, and the looming threat of failure had mingled with an unspoken fear of potentially losing each other… as partners of course. It was a volatile blend that inevitably boiled over.

Yet, as she reflected now, it was clear that without that night’s tension, the subtle shifts that followed might never have occurred. It was as if that moment of friction had unlocked something in their bond, something that would gradually reshape their future.

And it did. After that day, Yn had began to distance herself from Five, pulling back from her usual attempts to engage him following the words they had exchanged.

At first, he welcomed the newfound quiet, relishing the space she had granted him. But as the days turned into weeks, the hints of emptiness began to settle in ─ his routines, once merely solitary, now felt hollow in the absence of her persistent presence. It frustrated him that it had taken nearly half a year since his arrival to realize that, all along, she had been nothing but kind to him, even bringing him coffee out of simple, unreciprocated kindness.

Eventually, he couldn’t ignore the small void she had unintentionally left behind. So, he began to yield ─ little by little, he started responding more to her words, offering brief answers to a few of her questions. Though he tried to mask his intentions, to pretend that nothing had changed, Yn was perceptive. She noticed the subtle shift, and it warmed her heart to see him make the effort. Maybe, she thought, her persistence had finally paid off after all.

Five turned to look at her, a small, closed smile appearing on his face. “You really don’t give up, do you?”

Yn returned his smile with a warm one of her own. “If it means I get to see that smile of yours more often, then yeah, I’m not giving up.”

What began as a newly formed partnership and budding friendship gradually deepened into something far more profound ─ a bond marked by affection and love.

Nearly four years had passed since Five's arrival, with both now in their late twenties. How their relationship evolved to this point was almost a mystery, so natural and unexpected it was. There was no rushing, no planning of special days; everything unfolded organically, without them even realizing it until confessions were made during late-night talks in their offices ─ a ritual that had become part of their routine.

The Commission soon picked up on the shift. They noticed Yn’s brighter smile and Five’s subtle change in demeanor around her friends and colleagues. What caught their attention most was the increasing number of times they were seen together outside of work. The news only spread when Dot, eager to share the update about her best friend’s new relationship with the elusive assassin, let slip to some of her acquaintances. As the story circulated, more and more people became aware of their union.

It took considerable effort from Yn and a touch of intimidation from Five to stem the tide of gossip. They had to persuade their colleagues firmly and, in Five’s case, unwillingly make a few veiled threats to ensure that the news didn’t reach the Handler or become a matter of office chatter.

Those three famous words replayed in Yn’s mind often after they had been spoken. Five had been the one to say them first, catching her completely off guard.

She had been in the middle of a rant, her words tumbling out carelessly, when he suddenly interrupted her with that simple, yet earth-shattering declaration. She’d frozen up, stunned into silence, as she watched the panic flicker in his eyes, his awkward attempt to move on from the moment. But before either of them could overthink it, they shared a kiss ─ a kiss more meaningful than any other. She always reminisced about that day.

Being with him had brought her true happiness, but what she treasured most was the chance to truly understand him. To be one of the rare few who were close to the legendary Five Hargreeves.

It wasn’t the title that made her happy of course, but what it represented ─ his trust in her.

Five had eventually opened up to Yn about his past: the life he led before the apocalypse, the siblings he once fought beside, and the grueling years spent at the academy under the iron fist of his oppressive father. He shared the grim details of the apocalypse, the years he had endured in a world that was crumbling around him.

She even learned about his companion, Delores, who, to her surprise, truly existed ─ though not in the way she had once imagined.

Every revelation had brought them closer, slowly peeling back layers of Five’s stoic exterior. She listened as he recounted the challenges of growing up under such intense pressure, how the academy had shaped him, and how the isolation during the apocalypse had nearly driven him mad. Delores, a mannequin he had once loved, became a symbol of his desperate attempt to hold onto some semblance of normalcy in a desolate world.

Her heart ached for him as she realized just how much he had been through. She admired his resilience but also recognized the deep scars that his experiences had left behind. Despite all of it, she was still there, offering him the understanding and support he had long been deprived of.

One confession of hers always lingered in Five’s mind ─ the time she had offered to help him save his family, even before they had become a couple. It filled him with a sense of worth beyond his powers, knowing that someone as kind and admirable as Yn was by his side. Her willingness to stand by him, even when the odds seemed impossible, meant more to him than she could ever know.

In time, he shared his plan with her, every detail laid bare. And without a moment’s hesitation, she joined him, willing to leave the Commission behind and start a new life together. Though she seldom spoke of her life before the Commission, she knew that leaving it with him would be worth it ─ a step toward a new beginning.

All of it ultimately had led Yn toward her cherished goal of becoming a mother one day, to start a family with the man she knew she loved with all her heart. Little did she know how close this dream was to becoming reality, and the price she would have to pay for it.

She stared at the test in her shaky hands, her breath catching in her throat as the result slowly registered in her mind. It was positive.

The tiny plus sign on the strip seemed to burn into her vision, making her head spin. She had imagined this moment a few times before, but now that it was real, a wave of overwhelming emotions washed over her ─ shock, fear, and a flicker of something else she couldn’t quite place.

What would Five say? Would he be happy? Or would this news only add to the stress that already weighed heavily on him, especially with the endless equations he wrestled with, trying to find a way back home? Her thoughts had swirled in a chaotic spiral as she considered her options, eventually deciding on waiting it out. She’d tell him when the time was right ─ when he was a bit more at ease.

Two weeks had passed since that moment. Now, a few weeks into her first trimester, she still hadn’t told anyone, not even Dot. The secret weighed on her, but she carried it alone, choosing her words and actions carefully. She noticed that Five had started to pick up on her moments of distraction during their work, his concerned glances lingering on her as she zoned out during meetings or while analyzing cases.

It worried him, but he chalked it up to stress, something he was all too familiar with. As much as he tried to focus on the tasks at hand, he still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off with Yn. Yet, he held back from asking, not wanting to add to whatever burden she was carrying.

Yn, on the other hand, had still found herself caught between wanting to share her news with Five and the fear of how it might affect him. The thought of their future together brought both joy and anxiety, and she knew that the conversation would change everything. But until she felt the time was right, she kept her secret close, hoping for the right moment to finally reveal the truth.

That fateful evening, a mission had been thrust upon them both, one that stood out as particularly treacherous. Their target: a high-ranking official in 1930s London. The mission, fraught with peril and intricacy, was conveyed to them by the Handler with an urgency that unsettled Yn. The usual meticulous preparation was replaced with a frantic rush, additional colleagues and assassins hastily brought in to assist. The pressure of it all weighed heavily on her, nearly suffocating in its intensity.

But in the midst of the chaos, Five stood by her side, his presence a steady anchor in the storm. The warmth of his hand as it grasped hers provided a fleeting sense of comfort, a reassurance that steadied her frayed nerves. Their eyes met as they were handed the briefcase, the unspoken understanding between them clear.

“See you on the other side, love,” he whispered softly, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead.

A smile touched her lips, a brief moment of solace amidst the turmoil. She gently brushed a stray lock of hair from his face, her fingers lingering as she cupped his cheek. “As always, amor,” she murmured, her voice filled with a quiet resolve.

He returned her smile, a small, closed expression that conveyed more than words ever could. And then, with a final kiss, they vanished into the unknown, the briefcase unlocking their passage into the heart of the mission.

They lay on the rooftop, the world below a distant hum as they rested after another mission. The night sky above them was a canvas of stars, more vivid and clear than ever.

Her eyes traced the constellations, her voice carrying a note of hope. “Do you think it’ll work? Us leaving this place for good?” she asked softly.

Five turned his head to look at her, taking in the sight of her bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. For a moment, he found her breathtaking. “I’m not sure yet,” he admitted, his voice thoughtful. “I still need time to figure it out. But we will… as long as you stick with me and I do the same...”

She lost him that night.

The mission, designed with precision, had unravelled into a grim spectacle of chaos and tragedy. They had been separated away from the others, and the ambush that followed was relentless. As Yn fought her way through the fray, she felt the crushing weight of each strike and the ever-increasing number of enemies. The alleyway, dimly lit and narrow, became a crucible of their suffering.

Amidst the cacophony of gunfire and rain, Five was shot while shielding her from harm. The bullet’s impact seemed to shatter the fragile barrier between life and death. Yn’s mind was a maelstrom of fear and helplessness as she saw him stagger, blood staining his hands, his face etched with a painful resolve. His final moments were spent reassuring her with a promise to reunite, a promise that would never be fulfilled.

The rain continued to fall, indifferent to their plight, as she clutched him in her arms, her cries piercing the night. The agony of his loss was magnified by the brutality of her actions. Consumed by a blind rage, she had unleashed a vengeful fury upon the assailants who had stirred from unconsciousness. Her anger morphed her into a merciless avenger, the scene growing increasingly gruesome with each act of retribution.

The sight of a wedding ring on one of her fallen foes only fueled her anger, intensifying her wrath against a world that had stolen her love away from her.

The blood that soaked her clothes and hands served as a haunting reminder of the night’s horrors. When Dot and the other recruits had finally arrived, alerted by the delay of the two assassins, they found Yn amidst the aftermath, a lone figure in a sea of carnage. The scene was eerily quiet, save for the sound of rain pattering against the cobblestones, mingling with the crimson stains that painted the ground. Dot could only do nothing but cradle her shattered friend, her own heart breaking as Yn wept for her fallen partner.

“H-He's gone. He's really gone, Dot,” Yn had whispered, her voice barely audible through her sobs as she wept in her friend’s arms. The embrace, warm and familiar, somehow failed to bring the comfort she so desperately yearned for. His comfort.

Dot’s heart shattered at her friend’s words, a deep ache spreading through her chest. “I-I know. I know, love. I'm so sorry,” she whispered back, her voice trembling as she fought to keep herself composed.

“I never even told h-him…” Yn’s voice broke, the weight of her unspoken truth adding to her sorrow.

Dot’s confusion at the statement was fleeting, replaced by an overwhelming wave of empathy. She looked up at the others, tears forming in her own eyes as she held Yn closer. Herb and the rest of the team could only watch the scene with heavy hearts, their own grief mingling with sympathy.

They had lost one of their own that night, and the weight of that loss hung heavily in the air.

Have you ever heard the tale of two swans? One was as bright as freshly fallen snow, while the other was as dark as a moonless night. They lived on a tranquil lake, where the sun’s light danced across the water’s surface. The white swan was a beacon of sunlight, her graceful movements infusing life and light into the world around her. In contrast, the black swan bore the weight of shadows, his eyes mirroring the deep, somber sorrow of twilight, as if carrying the burdens of a cold and indifferent world.

Swans, it is said, find their mates for life. And though these two were as different as day and night, they were drawn together by a force that neither could resist. The white swan’s brightness softened the black swan’s gloom, while his depth gave her a new understanding of the world. They became the perfect counterpart to one another, a delicate balance of light and dark.

But as with all tales of love and loss, their time together was fleeting. The black swan, burdened by his own melancholy, grew weaker and eventually slipped into the stillness of death, leaving the white swan to mourn alone. There is a saying that swans give up when they lose their mate, but the white swan refused to surrender to despair. In her dreams, she saw him waiting on the edge of the lake, a shadow calling her back.

And so, she swam on, believing that their love was not bound by the limits of this world, but destined to reunite by fate, no matter how long it took.

The weeks following that night felt irrevocably altered, as though something fundamental had been lost. While only her closest friends sensed the void, it was undeniable: Yn had lost more than just a partner. She had lost a part of herself. Her light, her guiding moon. Everything that had once illuminated her world ─ was gone.

Discussions of Five’s passing were always weighed down with solemnity, spoken in hushed tones and soft whispers to avoid further distressing the grief-stricken Yn. The Handler had refrained from calling her in, adding to the sense of quiet that enveloped her. During this period, she had withdrawn from missions, spending her days confined to her quarters, while Dot provided steadfast support, her daily check-ins offering a small measure of comfort amid Yn’s profound sorrow. She resolved to properly express her gratitude to Dot someday.

As more weeks of solitude had passed, Yn’s growing stomach became increasingly noticeable, making it clear that she could no longer keep her condition a secret. Not that she had ever really planned to.

Surprisingly yet, she began to ease back into work, solving only a few cases here and there. Yet, the thought of returning to full-scale missions had seemed distant and unattainable. She couldn’t envision herself diving back into that world anytime soon.

When she officially had returned, her colleagues quickly noticed the changes in her. She was quieter, more reserved, and the brightness that once lit up her smile had dimmed. Her eyes, once filled with a lively spark, now held a subdued melancholy. Though her caring nature remained intact, it was tinged with a softness that hadn’t been there in a while.

The news of her pregnancy, discreetly shared by Dot with Yn’s permission, only deepened their understanding of her transformation. They often saw her gently cradling her growing stomach as she spoke with others, a tender gesture that contrasted with the weight of her loss. Despite everything, Yn still had extended a helping hand whenever her colleagues needed support, her compassion unwavering, though now shaded with the quiet strength of someone who had endured profound sorrow.

They had arranged a small welcome-back week for Yn, nothing extravagant, just a gesture to show their support and care. Dot and Herb had spearheaded the idea, wanting to comfort her during this difficult time. Though Dot nervously denied any relationship with Herb, Yn wasn’t fooled. She saw the affection in their interactions, recognizing the love between them, even if they hadn’t realized it yet. It was reminiscent of how she and Five had been before they got together. A part of her envied them, but she chose not to dwell on it, unwilling to descend into that sorrowful comparison.

That week passed quickly, but the one that followed brought an unwelcome tension. With Five gone, it was inevitable that someone would try to take his place as the best in their division. Unfortunately, it had to be a guy whose name Yn barely bothered to remember. She recognized him, though ─ the one who always glared at Five during meetings, muttering under his breath and plotting to outshine him. His envy had been palpable, and now, with Five gone, he seemed almost gleeful.

She was on her way to Dot's office when their paths crossed. He spotted her first, his smirk widening as he stopped, blocking her way. “Well, if it isn't Mrs. Sunshine herself. Oh wait, you're not a Mrs anymore, huh?” His voice dripped with mockery, each word carefully chosen to sting.

Yn paused, her gaze narrowing as she turned to face him fully. “What did you say?” Her voice was low, a warning.

“You heard me,” he sneered, taking a step closer, his voice dripping with malice. “What? What's with the glare? Your man isn’t here to cuddle you when you’re sad anymore? Aw, how tragic.” His tone was sharp, mocking. As his words hung in the air, a small crowd began to form at a respectful distance, sensing the tension.

Yn’s heart pounded in her chest, her grief and anger simmering just beneath the surface. He wasn’t done yet, though. His eyes flicked down to her growing stomach, and the smirk on his face turned vicious. “I'm sure it'll be sad for that child of yours too, no? Having to grow up fatherless—”

He didn’t get to finish. The sound of her fist connecting with his jaw echoed through the hall, followed by a sharp intake of breath from the onlookers. He staggered back, clutching his face, shock and pain flickering in his eyes as blood began to trickle from his nose. The once-smug expression was replaced with disbelief as he struggled to regain his footing, staring at Yn in stunned silence.

She stepped forward, her voice cold and unwavering. “You don't get to speak about him or our child. Ever.” She glanced down at him, now slumped against the wall, her eyes narrowing slightly before she straightened her posture, smoothing her jacket's sleeves with a practiced grace. A small, almost satisfied smile curved her lips. “I'm sure our boss can deal with you from here.”

Without another word, Yn turned and walked away, leaving him and the stunned crowd in her wake. She didn’t look back, her steps confident and unhurried as she continued toward Dot's office, her mind already moving beyond the encounter, focusing instead on what truly mattered. Though, a closed smile appeared on her face. How cool was that, she thought.

The months that followed passed in a blur, filled with their own set of challenges and small joys. Yn navigated the pain of her growing baby, the sharp, unexpected kicks a constant reminder of the new life within her. Sleepless nights often plagued her, her dreams haunted by memories and nightmares of Five. Yet through it all, he remained ever-present in her thoughts, a constant companion in her heart.

The day she gave birth was a mixture of profound pain and overwhelming joy. With Dot by her side, offering support and comfort, Yn held her baby girl for the first time. The sight of the tiny, delicate face with her father's eyes brought tears to her eyes. Cradling her daughter in her arms, she was flooded with a wave of emotion that made the pain of childbirth fade into the background. The spark that had seemed lost during those dark months flickered back to life.

And that spark only grew stronger as the years passed. It now marked four years since the birth of her daughter and nearly five since Yn had lost her beloved counterpart. She had named her daughter Odette, inspired by her favorite tale of the two swans ─ a story she felt a profound connection to. Odette, in turn, grew to love the tale as well, often requesting her mother to read it to her.

She carried her father's last name, a small but significant gesture by Yn to keep his presence alive. She was more than just a reminder of Five; she was a living embodiment of him. From her eyes to her smile, she mirrored him unmistakably.

Yet her spirited defiance and curiosity, traits so vividly reminiscent of Yn herself, shaped her unique character. Together, these traits made Odette a perfect blend of both her parents. A tangible piece of Five that would always remain with them.

Odette breathed new life into Yn, rekindling the smile and joy she had lost. As her daughter grew older, she proudly introduced her to some of her colleagues. The young girl quickly took a special liking to Dot, who she affectionately regarded as an aunt.

Those around her couldn’t help but notice the remarkable transformation that occurred whenever she brought her daughter along. The once-muted spark in her eyes seemed to reignite, and the spirit and vitality that had once defined her returned in full force. With Odette by her side, Yn radiated a renewed energy, a testament to the profound impact her daughter had on her life.

Her friends and colleagues took pride in this progress, none more so than Dot and her newly announced husband, Herb. Yn had always suspected that Dot and Herb were destined for each other, and seeing their happiness only served to amplify her own.

Dot, however, knew her friend too well to be fooled by her composed exterior. She noticed the subtle longing in Yn’s eyes whenever she watched couples around them ─ a silent yearning that spoke volumes. Deeply worried for her friend, Dot resolved to address this unspoken sadness. So, determined to uplift Yn’s spirits, Dot had been collaborating with Herb on a plan for the inevitable. Their efforts were driven by the desire to bring a bit of joy and warmth back into Yn’s life, a gesture to remind her of the happiness she permanently deserved.

Now, as Dot stood at Yn’s door with a briefcase in hand and a hopeful smile on her face, the moment had finally arrived to put their plan into action.

Yn was jolted from her somber reverie by a knock that drew her from the depths of her reflections. Her mind, having been absorbed in vivid, melancholic recollections of the past few years, was momentarily disrupted by the unexpected sound.

Her habit of deep contemplation, honed through years of grappling with grief, had become a regular occurrence during her solitary moments. This subtle undercurrent of sorrow still lingered beneath the facade she maintained around others, save for her daughter, who was spending the day with Dot. The break was meant to be a well-deserved respite, a chance for Yn to step away from her responsibilities and unwind. Yet, as she lay alone in her loft, the quiet was filled with a flood of memories rather than peace.

With a weary sigh, Yn rose from her bed and switched on the lamp beside her. The soft glow dispelled the encroaching darkness, casting a gentle light across the room. As she moved toward the door of her small loft, her footsteps echoed softly in the quiet.

When she opened the door, she was greeted by Dot, whose face was brightened by a warm and inviting smile. Dot held a briefcase in her hands, the enigmatic glint in her eyes hinting at a purpose behind her visit that went beyond a mere social call.

“Hi, bestie!” Dot exclaimed with infectious enthusiasm, her smile beaming brightly. She seemed on the verge of bouncing with excitement.

Yn looked at her with a hint of confusion. “Hi, Dot. Where’s my daughter?” she asked, half expecting to see Odette right behind her friend.

“Oh, don’t worry about her,” Dot reassured her with a gentle smile. “She’s fast asleep. I made sure Herb checked in on her, so you don’t have to worry.” She then adjusted her grip on the briefcase, holding it with both hands as if presenting a treasured gift. Her eyes sparkled with a blend of excitement and urgency. “I need your help with something,” she said, her voice carrying a note of earnest appeal.

Yn’s gaze fell on the briefcase, and she let out a long, weary sigh. “Dot, you know I don’t take on missions anymore.”

Dot quickly interjected, her tone insistent. “I promise, this isn’t a mission. I just need your help with talking to someone for a report. I know I could have asked anyone else, but—”

Yn cut in, her patience wearing thin. “Dot, you don’t need to—”

Dot pressed on, her voice carrying a blend of determination and sincerity. “You’re the only one I truly trust with this. Wanda’s off on her honeymoon, and that leaves Harold, who.. let’s be honest, has a knack for forgetting things. And as much as I value his help, between us, he’s not the best at keeping details straight. Plus, this report would really benefit from your insight—”

“Fine!” Yn interrupted Dot’s rambling, her resolve finally breaking. “I’ll do it, okay? Would that make you happy?” A hint of a smile appeared on her face, softening her expression.

Dot’s face lit up with genuine delight at Yn’s response. “Trust me, this makes me very happy.” Her gaze fell on Yn’s casual appearance. “But before you head out, go grab a jacket. It might be chilly where we’re going.”

Y/N sighed, a small, resigned smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She turned away, heading to her closet to retrieve her jacket, her movements deliberate as she mentally prepared herself for what lay ahead. When she returned to the front door, she grabbed the briefcase from her friend, her fingers brushing against a small note that had been tucked underneath.

“Almost forgot to mention!” Dot said with a quick, bright smile, “It’d be better off if you went by yourself. I promise to take care of Odette while you’re away, okay? Oh, and apologies for any age regressions. It was the only way, I swear!” Dot’s words tumbled out in a rush, her playful wink adding a touch of lightheartedness to the situation.

Before Yn could respond at what she just said, Dot opened the briefcase and backed away. A flash of light enveloped her, causing her to disappear in an instant, leaving Dot standing alone with a satisfied grin.

The landing wasn’t graceful by any means. It had been some time since she last felt the jarring impact of a jump. The cold, unyielding concrete greeted her back as she hit the ground, the briefcase skidding to a stop beside her.

A groan escaped her lips as she opened her eyes, trying to make sense of her surroundings. She was in a lonely alley way. It was night, the stars above twinkling in the crisp air. The chill in the air seeped through her clothes, though she was grateful she had brought her jacket ─ despite it feeling slightly looser now that she had a moment to think.

Dot’s last words suddenly echoed in her mind, prompting her to sit up and examine herself. She had indeed regressed physically. Judging by the familiar feel of her body, she estimated she was close to twenty again. How she knew this was unclear ─ the knowledge had simply surfaced in her mind, as if planted there. The realization drew a sigh of frustration from her.

“Great. Just what I needed,” she muttered under her breath, releasing another sigh as she pushed herself to her feet. She reached down, grabbing the briefcase and staring at the note that had been hidden beneath it. With a curious frown, she picked it up and unfolded it, immediately recognizing her friend’s familiar handwriting.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ It’ll be worth it !!!

That was all it said, a simple message alongside a smiley face, an address, and an apartment number. The brevity of it puzzled her, but she shrugged it off, assuming it was just her friend's way of offering some encouragement. Folding the note carefully, she tucked it away and began to make her way out of the alley. As she walked, a strange new feeling tugged at her heart, something she couldn’t quite put into words yet.

The walk to the apartment was short, the address conveniently close by. She found herself enjoying the quiet stroll, the crisp night air, and the glow of the city around her. The pretty lights of closed shops and streetlamps reflected off the puddles of water on the ground, remnants of an earlier rain. For once, her mind was still, her usual whirlwind of thoughts subdued as she soaked in the peaceful surroundings. And before she knew it, she was now standing in front of the door marked with the number from the note.

The place felt oddly familiar, almost as if she were experiencing deja vu, despite never having been there before. She took a deep breath, steadying herself, and knocked gently ─ five small taps. It was a habit she’d picked up after meeting Five, a subtle, playful signal that it was her at the door.

She listened as the faint sound of footsteps approached, stopping just on the other side of the door, lingering as if the person hesitated. The pause made sense, though, the moment the door swung open.

And there he stood. Alive and breathing.

It took her several moments to even process what she was seeing. It didn’t feel real ─ it couldn’t be. She had been there in his final moments, holding him as the last breath left his body, his life slipping away in her arms. How could he possibly be standing here now? But there he was, unmistakably him, looking slightly younger than when they had first met.

His eyes, those familiar, piercing eyes she had longed for every day since his death, were now locked onto hers, brimming with a whirlwind of emotions ─ surprise, grief, shock. Seeing him again sent a jolt through her heart, unearthing a longing she had buried deep within herself.

This had to be a dream, she thought, a painfully vivid dream. There could be no other explanation. She was on the verge of convincing herself of this, of dismissing the surreal moment as nothing more than a cruel trick of her mind.

But then, just as her thoughts reached a fever pitch, everything came to a sudden, startling halt when he spoke.

“Yn?” His voice was a whisper, so soft it was almost lost in the space between them, yet it carried the weight of a thousand emotions. There was a tremor of hesitance, a desperate plea woven into the single word, as though he couldn’t bear for this moment to be anything but true.

He’d spoken her name like a lifeline. And that was all it took.

Have you ever watched a Studio Ghibli movie? The way characters embrace, with a weightless, almost ethereal quality, filled with a love so profound it borders on desperation ─ something so pure, so perfect, it feels almost unreal? That’s the only way she could describe what happened next.

Her hands, trembling uncontrollably, released the briefcase, letting it clatter to the floor as tears welled up in her eyes. In an instant, she was in his arms, launching herself at him with a gentle force that belied the intensity of her emotions.

The impact pushed him back, and he leaned against the couch for support, his arms instinctively wrapping around her. It wasn’t just a hug; it was an outpouring of everything they had both held back, a reunion that seemed impossible, now made real. In that moment, nothing else existed but the warmth of his embrace and the overwhelming relief of having him back.

It was like a forgotten melody, a touch so familiar yet distant that it brought tears to her eyes. She buried her face against him, her emotions overwhelming her after so many years of longing. It was as though time had folded in on itself, pulling her back to the moments they had shared ─ those quiet embraces when he would hold her close to soothe her fears, or when he sought solace in her arms, or the way they’d cling to each other before sleep claimed them.

Yet, even in this moment of overwhelming emotion, she sensed the subtle difference in his hold. As much as she wanted to believe that this was truly her Five, she knew it wasn’t.

She refused to deceive herself with comforting lies. But the sensation of his arms around her, the sight of him breathing once more, was enough to make her ignore that truth, if only for a moment. She felt his arms tighten around her, as though he, too, was desperate to hold onto this fleeting connection. And he was.

Unbeknowst to her, in this timeline, Five had lost her too, but the circumstances were even more devastating. They had been married in this world, their connection deepened by vows and shared dreams. But her death had been a cruel twist of fate, even more tragic because he hadn’t been there to save her. By the time he found her, the life they had built together was already shattered, the light in her eyes extinguished.

The pain of losing her, the one person who had made the chaos of his existence bearable, was a weight he couldn’t carry. The organization they had both served now felt like a prison, a constant reminder of the price he had paid. So he did the only thing he could ─ he walked away. Not just to escape the unbearable memories, but to honor the goal she had always believed in: saving his family, the one mission that had always mattered to him.

Her words, spoken with love and determination before that fateful night, became his lifeline. She had promised that they would see each other again, a promise that kept him going through the darkest of times. With that promise echoing in his mind, he returned to his timeline, a sixteen-year-old boy again, at least physically, carrying the scars of a life lived far too fast. He fought for his family, saving the world not once, but twice, driven by the hope that somehow, in some way, he would fulfill the vow they had made to each other.

Four years had passed since the harrowing events at Hotel Obsidian, when he’s been rid of his powers ─ a release that should have brought peace. Yet, a lingering emptiness remained, a deep ache in his soul that no achievement could ever truly fill.

And now, against all odds, here she was, cradled in his arms. She wasn’t exactly his girl, but she was unmistakably her in every way that mattered. It felt as though fate had woven its threads to bring them together for this fleeting, bittersweet reunion.

They both understood that this moment wasn’t meant to last, but for now, it was a precious gift. The chance to hold each other again was a final farewell, a way to honor the love that had once been the center of their worlds. They lingered in that embrace, neither willing to let go, as if parting would shatter the fragile reality they had managed to reclaim.

But with an unspoken agreement, their eyes met, and slowly, their lips found each other in a kiss that was both fervent and tender.

It was a mix of deep longing and careful delicacy, as if they were made of fragile porcelain, afraid that any sudden movement might break the bond they had just rediscovered. The kiss bore the weight of lost time and unspoken regrets, a bittersweet acknowledgment of a love that had once meant everything ─ a tentative step toward healing the trauma they had both inevitably faced and shared.

When they finally pulled away, it was with a hesitant urgency, both fearing the other might disappear, as if the moment had been nothing more than a dream.

A quiet, almost disbelieving chuckle escaped them both. With eyes shimmering and full of tears, they whispered in perfect unison, “You're alive.”

To anyone else, the words might have sounded grim, a strange thing to say with such relief. But for them, it was more than just an observation ─ it was a confirmation, a shared acknowledgment of the impossible moment they were living.

“I am,” they said in unison again, their voices soft but laden with mutual relief. A small, genuine smile touched their lips.

“How did you find me?” he asked quietly, his voice tinged with curiosity and wonder. Yn’s mind raced, piecing together why her best friend had been so insistent on sending her on this unexpected visit. She looked away briefly, lost in thought, before meeting his gaze again. “Dot did,” she said simply, her expression thoughtful.

Recognition and understanding flickered across his face. “She’s alive?” he asked quietly, a mix of surprise and confusion in his voice. Yn tilted her head slightly, her brow furrowing with genuine curiosity. “Well, why wouldn’t she be?”

He sighed, his face a canvas of conflicting emotions as he looked at her. “Long story, love,” he murmured, the term of endearment slipping out naturally as he gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, as if it were part of their unspoken language.

Yn’s smile only deepened, her eyes shining with a warm, nostalgic light. Hearing him use that term again brought a bittersweet comfort. “I’ve got time,” she replied softly, her tone inviting him to share more.

Remember the tale of the two swans? Even amidst the loss, the white swan held onto the belief that they were destined to meet again. In a way, their story mirrored this. Though fate had separated them, it had overlooked one truth: the possibility of reunion, whether in life or death. While no one could truly alter fate, that didn’t mean hope was in vain.

They proved this belief true. Though they were no longer fated to be each other’s, destiny had never decreed they couldn’t forge a new path together. The path ahead would be long and fraught with challenges, but even if they could never fully reclaim what they had lost, having another version of each other was a gift beyond measure.

It was a bittersweet acknowledgment that while they might never fully reclaim the past, the chance for a new beginning made every step of the journey worthwhile.

Three months had quietly unraveled since that singular encounter, each day slipping by like sand through fingers, leaving behind an unfamiliar yet comforting residue of contentment. It was a feeling neither of them had tasted in what felt like ages, a gentle calm that settled in the spaces where anxiety once reigned.

During this time, it was no surprise that Yn remained in contact with Five. Their connection, fragile yet persistent, was nurtured through careful secrecy. With Dot’s clever assistance, they managed to keep their rendezvous hidden, safely out of the Commission's sight ─ a vital necessity, for Yn was determined to shield him from the shadows of that life again.

Dot's ingenuity extended beyond mere meetups; she devised a way for Yn to send letters to Five whenever the tides of their busy lives pulled them apart. Each letter was a memorable, tethering them to one another across the distance, allowing their bond to reflourish quietly. And now, those letters had led them to this very moment, standing together outside Yn’s new home, anticipation in the air,

Five, usually so composed, found himself uncharacteristically nervous, a rare sight for someone who had faced the end of the world more than once. But the reason for his unease was clear.

Over those three months, countless conversations and reassurances had chipped away at his reluctance, finally giving him the courage to face a reality he had long avoided: meeting his daughter. It was not an easy decision. The idea of stepping into a role that once would’ve belonged to another version of himself had weighed heavily on him. He feared it might feel like replacing someone, a ghost of his own making.

Yet, despite his trepidation, curiosity still gnawed at him. A longing to know this person who shared his blood, but not his past.

Standing on that threshold, the soft patter of rain on the porch creating a delicate symphony around him, Five was suddenly transported back to another time, many years ago. He could almost feel the weight of a ring in his trembling hand, hear the murmur of vows as they escaped his lips, each word woven with threads of love and fear.

That moment, when he stood before his past lover, was etched into his memory with a clarity that time could never dull. And now, as the rain whispered against the ground, he felt the same mix of emotions stir within him, knowing that once again, he was on the brink of something that could change everything.

“Yeah, no, I can't do this.” Five muttered, his voice tight with sudden panic as he tried to turn and walk away. But before he could take more than a step, a gentle hand caught his arm, pulling him back with a softness that contrasted the storm brewing inside him.

The woman beside him, her eyes warm with understanding, smiled softly at his flustered demeanor. “It’ll be fine, I promise,” she assured him, her voice carrying a calm certainty that made his doubt seem almost foolish.

“How can you be so sure, though?” he questioned, his eyes searching hers for the reassurance he so desperately needed.

“Uh, I birthed her?” she replied with a teasing lilt, her smile growing as she tilted her head slightly. “I wouldn’t doubt her for a second, okay, love?” She leaned in, placing a soft kiss on his cheek, her lips lingering just long enough to leave a trace of warmth. “But… if you do feel like this is too much, then I won’t force you.”

Five hesitated, his eyes darting away as he wrestled with the weight of his emotions. But then, with a deep breath, he looked back at her, steeling himself. “No, no… it’s fine. I can do this.”

She gave him one last reassuring smile before turning to knock on the door. Within moments, the door swung open, revealing Dot, her face lighting up with excitement at the sight of them.

“Well, look who finally decided to show up!” Dot teased, her eyes twinkling as she stepped aside to let them in. “Come on in, you two. We’ve been waiting forever!”

Yn stepped inside first, Five trailing close behind, his nerves still coiled tightly. They shrugged off their coats, hanging them neatly on the rack. But before they could even gather their thoughts, the sound of tiny, hurried footsteps echoed from the hallway, accompanied by the soft giggles of a child.

Yn’s heart swelled at the familiar sound, and soon enough, a tiny head peeked around the corner, wide eyes brimming with curiosity, before breaking into a wide smile when she spotted her mother.

“Mama!” Odette squealed with delight, her little legs carrying her swiftly across the room. Yn dropped to her knees, her face softening into a warm smile as she opened her arms wide.

“There’s my little swan,” she greeted her, her voice tender as she scooped her daughter into a tight hug. Odette’s arms wrapped around her neck, her giggles muffled against Yn’s shoulder. “I missed you, my love,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her daughter’s head, savoring the sweet moment.

“I missed you more, Mama,” Odette giggled, hugging her mother tightly. After a moment, she eased back just enough to peek up at the man standing a few feet away. Her little face scrunched in curiosity before her gaze shifted back to her mother, her eyes narrowing slightly as if lost in thought.

Five stood a short distance away, watching the scene unfold with a mix of awe and emotion. It felt surreal, like he was witnessing something he never thought possible. The little girl had his eyes, even that familiar smile he wore in moments of joy. The sight filled him with a profound sense of completeness, yet left him slightly stunned, as if he were still trying to fully grasp the reality of it all.

Dot, sensing the need for some privacy, offered a knowing smile. “Well, I’ll leave you three to catch up. I’ve got a few things to wrap up at the Commission,” she said, waving as she backed toward the door. “Take care, and we’ll catch up soon, alright?”

“Thanks, Dot,” Yn said, her smile full of gratitude as she watched her friend leave.

Now, with just the three of them in the room, the atmosphere shifted slightly. Odette, who had been entirely absorbed in her mother’s embrace, suddenly turned her attention back to the unfamiliar figure nearby. Her curious eyes studied him for a moment before she cautiously inched closer. There was a brief pause, as if something clicked in her young mind, and then, without warning, she bolted forward.

Five instinctively crouched down, still stunned by the sudden movement. “Whoa—” he began, his voice faltering as Odette launched herself into his arms, hugging him tightly. The shock on his face quickly softened, and he hesitantly wrapped his arms around her, his heart swelling with an emotion he had almost forgotten.

She squealed with joy, her small voice bright as she nuzzled into his shoulder. Looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes, she asked, “Are you my mommy's boyfriend?”

Five blinked, caught off guard. “Uh... yeah, I suppose so,” he replied, slightly bewildered. Odette beamed and hugged him even tighter. “That means you’re my daddy!” she declared with the certainty only a child could have, her innocent enthusiasm filling the room.

He chuckled softly, a sense of ease enveloping him as he hugged her back, the weight of his past worries melting away. “I guess it does, huh, little one?” he murmured, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Yn watched the scene with tears brimming in her eyes, overwhelmed by the sight before her. This was the moment she had dreamed of, and seeing it come to life was more than she could have ever hoped for.

Odette, brimming with energy, quickly pulled away and started chattering excitedly. “Mama told me about you! She said you’re really strong, have pretty eyes like me, and have super cool powers! Can you show me? Please?” she begged, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Five hesitated, his smile tinged with a hint of regret. “I wish I could, sweetheart, but I can’t right now. Maybe another time, okay?” he gently declined, ruffling her hair.

Odette’s face fell slightly but then brightened again. “Okay… But you’re staying with us, right? Forever?” she asked, her voice full of hope.

Five looked into her big, expectant eyes and nodded. “As long as you’d like me to,” he promised, pulling her close once more.

Yn watched them, tears finally spilling over ─ tears of happiness, relief, and love. The family she had dreamed of for so long was now becoming a reality, and seeing it all unfold was more than she could have imagined. In that moment, as she observed the genuine connection and warmth between them, everything had felt perfectly aligned.

‎

#five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy x reader #reader insert #fem reader #imagine #fanfic #aidan gallagher

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iustitians · 6 months ago

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His arrival here was not entirely planned, and he was not particularly thrilled to be here. He had been gone longer than he had said he would be, meaning Fontaine might just be descending into nation-wide panic while he was sitting here, he had at least seventy-three forms, forty-nine funding applications, seven complaints and twelve trials to get through that were waiting in his office, and most annoyingly of all, it was really warm.

For that reason, he had been spending almost this entire time underwater. It was still considerably warmer water than what he was accustomed to, but it was nevertheless cooler than open air, and provided protection from the sun. There, he had been mostly resting, swimming around a little to appreciate new scenery, and already forming responses to some of those documents he remembered from his desk in his mind - may as well get a bit of a head start if he could.

Movement above the surface of the water drew his attention and broke his chain of thought, however. It looked like something, or someone, was there. Most likely one of the other people who had arrived on the islands, but Neuvillette thought he might as well check.

Slowly he ascended from the depth and closer to the surface. The water was sparkling like glitter, a sure sign that if the Iudex really intended to rear his head, he had to be ready to be assaulted by the sunlight the moment he did. Which was not an encouraging thought, but he had already decided to see who or what that was, and it was rare for him to give up on a thought due to simple inconvenience.

And so, the head of silver hair accompanied by a pair of blue antennae rose from under the waves, and the multicolored slit pupils looked to find the source of the disturbance: a tall man stood before him, evidently surprised to see him (Neuvillette could not blame him, really; he knew by now what was or was not normal by human standards, and the sight he just provided to the guy definitely was not that), and a few second of silence ensued, before the Iudex chose to break it.

"Ah, I'm sorry if I startled you. I was just hiding underwater from the sun."

splish splash splosh why is there a man swimming at me?

#sweepingthunder #✦ thread | splish splash splosh why is there a man swimming at me?.#✦ ic.#✦ commission season | bloom.#ghsolstice2024 #✦ interaction | jing yuan.#((hi almost forgot about this sdhjshdkldf))

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shirecorn · 2 years ago

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Shirecorn's Ponyverse Masterpost

So for the last 2 months I've fixated on doing redesigns based somewhat loosely on My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. I've had so much fun filling in the gaps and extrapolating until my version is less of a redesign and more of an AU.

"Ponies" are three species of sentient hoofed creatures that populate Equestria. They worship giant goddesses that fill the sky and ferry the moon and sun across the world.

Tag navigation

#Shire draws mlp - drawings only. Leaves out the lore

#Skyscraper gods lore - drawings, posts, and asks that expand on the world. Talks about biology, genetics, ritual, society, politics, religion, but mostly creature design and magic.

#Skyscraper Gods - Art, asks, posts, and fanart! Everything to do with both my little pony canon and my version of things. Includes drawings without lore, and lore without drawings. This is the tag to browse to make sure you see it all

Characters

In progress: Discord

○ The Mane Six ○ All Alicorns,

○ Rarity ○ Fluttershy ○ Flutterbat ○ Applejack ○ Pinkie Pie ○ Pinkie Pie Pegasus ○ Rainbow Dash ○ Twilight Sparkle ○ Raritwi ○ Spike

○ Princess Celestia + Princess Luna ○ Princess Cadance + Shining Armor + Flurry Heart ○ Sunset Shimmer ○ Sunburst ○ Apple Bloom + Scootaloo + Sweetie Belle (Cutie Mark Crusaders) ○ Big Macintosh/Ochard Blossom (she is a woman) ○ Granny Smith ○ Mr & Mrs Cake + Pound Cake and Pumpkin Cake ○ Maud Pie + Mudbriar ○ Trixie Lulamoon + Starlight Glimmer ○ Cozy Glow ○ Zephyr Breeze ○ Escape Room Guy + Dusty Pages ○ Berry Punch/Berryshine ○ Vapor Trail ○ Bulk Biceps ○ Tempest Shadow ○ Flim and Flam ○ Queen Chrysalis + Thorax + Ocellus (Changelings) ○ Autumn Blaze (kirin) ○ Rain Shine (kirin leader) ○ Sky Beak (hippogriff) ○ Starcatcher and Skywishes (G3)

Lore

○ The 3 pony species ○ Breeding/genetics ○ The 4 Alicorns stories ○ Gods of non-pony species? Seapony god? ○ Unicorn Horns: Starlight physics, Different shapes, Alicorn horns, Horn colors, ○ Where did Spike come from? (1) (2) ○ Your daughter has won the favor of God (fic) ○ Nightmare moon playlist ○ Cutie marks are cultural not physical: (1) (2) ○ Starlight Glimmer's hometown and her cult ○ Alicorns don't fit inside buildings ○ Discord is a headache to behold ○ Government in the world of gods ○ Gender and matriarchy ○ Scootaloo's flightless disability ○ Equestria Girls Vs Skyscraper Gods, existential horror ○ Pinkie Pie breaks the forth wall because she hopped worlds once ○ Vampire fruit bat ecology and virus ○ How ponies caught it

Meta

○ Using Skyscraper Gods as inspiration (2) ○ Why I like expanding on MLP: its simplicity ○ MLP Creature designs are already good ○ If you don't like my designs ○ I'm just having fun: (1) (2) ○ Mane 6 doodle to finished design ○ After ponies ○ Designing based on birds and animals ○ Starcatcher dove

Shitposts and Doodles

○ My fursona in mlp style ○ Daytime! Nighttime! ○ Baby god ○ Local horse fistfights the sun ○ Shining armor alicorn ○ Sunset shimmer becomes god (2) ○ Poodle rarity ○ Zephyr Breeze thinks RD is a man ○ Season 9 ○ Why is EQ an hour long ○ Being held at gunpoint to watch Equestria Girls ○ World's gayest dash ○ 18 pounds of crake

Fanart by others

○ Fanart tag

Commissions

○ People request a lot and that normal ○ Prices are low because I'm already fixated

Ko-fi requests || Classic commissions

Shirecorn Discord

Join any tier of my patreon to access my art discord

○ See WIPs, discussion, the occasional meltdown, and more ○ The content is all done through discord, so if the patreon looks dead it's all just on the server instead.

I hope you enjoy seeing my MLP creations as much as I enjoy making them!

#skyscraper gods #shire draws ponies #shyscraper gods masterpost #mlp redesign #please tell me if any of the links are wrong #skyscraper gods lore

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nanomii · 9 months ago

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Hii guys!! Going to open IAP commissions again for these lovely items

Bloom Lilypad Umbrella ($14.99) CLOSED

Violin Triumph ($19.99) CLOSED

1x seasonal candle pack for a friend ($4.99) CLOSED

I‘ll draw your sky kid / OC in exchange for one of these items :3

For the violin and umbrella you get a full body drawing each while the violin also gets a doodle. As for the candles you get a doodle ( colored / non colored. Up to two characters ) ( samples below 👇)

SAMPLES:

PROCESS:

Friend me on sky (i‘ll unlock fistbump)

We wait 3 days for the IAP gifting time (can be skipped if we are already friends). During this, i‘ll work on your commission

At the end of the 3 days you gift me the IAP, and you get the finished artwork

Please DM me if you‘re interested ^^

#sky cotl #sky iap commission #sky children of the light

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babooshkart · 1 year ago

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“Luna takes time to tell Harry about every plant in the garden, what’s in season, and what Draco has enchanted to bloom despite the heat and the sun: bougainvillea and wisteria and jacaranda and Birds of Paradise and one English tea rose. It’s odd how at-home Harry feels in Malfoy’s back garden—they’ve only just barely become friends—but he does and Malfoy seems to like him there, anyways.”

art commissioned for LA, Who Am I To Love You? by @epitomereally for @hd-wireless 2023 🌱 thank you, El, for honoring me with this wonderful project!!! everyone please go read this decadent, sun-kissed fic!!

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iustitians · 7 months ago

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If Fontaine journalists could see him right now, they would probably get enough material to weave new gossip about him for a good couple years. Of course, it is not as though they are not doing that all the time anyway, but the stuff they could produce from this would have the potential to become... particularly problematic, especially with the tabloid writers' tendency to take things out of context, out of control and way too far.

For that reason, blessed be the Formidable Father that they cannot see him, because if he has learned anything about humans by now, that fact is saving him from at last four or five extra court cases.

Anyway, he should get out of these idle thoughts and focus on the situation at hand. Seated on a rock, he watches Navia create a line of the peculiar sheep for his convenience, fanning himself with some random, long outdated document he had found in his pocket in the meantime.

"... Miss Chiori, was it? I can imagine she will find good use of it... Alright, then."

Once she is done, he eyes the situation one more time, before holding out his arm. "Watch out," he says, out of a sense of obligation more than anything else, though his voice is devoid of any note of urgency. The stream of water he releases is weak and entirely harmless. He does not intend to hurt or kill those animals, after all.

Upon contact with water, the fleece on the sheep changes form and shape in a most peculiar way, indeed. The animals do not flee from the stream, either, as though this was a normal procedure to them.

... Interesting.

court of fontaine pressure washing co.

solstice / hosing off sheep

#dellarosula #✦ thread | court of fontaine pressure washing co.#✦ ic.#✦ commission season | bloom.#GHSolstice2024 #✦ interaction | navia.

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vefanyar · 2 hours ago

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No other player has there been, no other lips or fingers seen so skilled, 'tis said in elven-lore, save Maglor son of Fëanor, forgotten harper, singer doomed, who young when Laurelin yet bloomed to endless lamentation passed and in the tombless sea was cast.

As a little gift for the season, have a Maglor. I shared it on the SWG discord server before, but explicitly wanted to keep from posting it on tumblr until today. All my thanks go to the wonderful @naomilibicki gifted me a commission of my favourite Silm blorbo by @szaszkeh, who turned my ideas into this gorgeous, breathtaking piece of Maglor wandering along the shore, which hits me in the feels where it hurts the most every damn time I look at it. @szaszkeh, aside from being a fantastic artist, was great to work with, should you wish to consider a commission of your own. ♥♥♥

#tolkien #silmarillion #maglor #help i'm having maglor feels #szaszkeh #naomilibicki #i'll just go drown in feels now #merr crisis

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wri0thesley · 2 years ago

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home - hawks x reader (6.7k)

you miss him when he's not here.

cw: not sfw. reader is afab but no gendered language is used. chubby reader, insecurities mentioned. established relationship. possessive hawks. blood, injury (mild). cunnilingus, scratching, biting, multiple orgasms.

this was a commissioned work.

There are drawbacks to being a Pro Hero’s partner.

Oh, there are some positives, too - the nice things that you get sent, sometimes, in the hopes that you’ll post them on social media and the business in question will get some extra footfall from being papped on the significant other of the more popular Pro Heroes (putting aside the occasional frustration of paparazzi always tailing you, the free clothes and free tech and free gear and free meals are very nice). The fact that Keigo has a sizable fortune that he mainly uses to make sure that you and he have the best life he can provide. The swell of pride that rises in your chest when you think about him, and all of the lives he has saved, all of the people who are grateful for him.

The sunshine in Keigo’s face, too, when a small child tells him how much they look up to him - how they want to be just like him. The money that is funneled back by Keigo into charitable institutions for children. The fact that you’re doing a small part of good in the world despite your reasonably useless quirk (making flowers bloom at a touch is only useful when the flowers are not yet in season, after all - it’s a quirk that you can use maybe three months out of the year, and you’ve noticed flowers don’t seem to last any longer just because you’ve grazed them with your fingertips) by making Keigo happy, the way he deserves to be.

But there are plenty of negatives.

Those same paparazzi who sell photographs of you and Keigo to gossip magazines and comment on your appearance, your hair if it’s messy, your figure that you’re already not all that confident in. The online gossip-mongers who spend their time bemoaning how much of a better fit they’d be for a man like Keigo, if he’d just stop ‘pitying’ you enough to date you.

The nights you spend stroking Keigo’s hair as he buries his head in your neck and all of the ugliest parts of his job fall out of his mouth; the fear of being a pawn for the HPSC for the rest of his life, the things he’s asked to do that remain secret except in whispered gasps into your ear, his hands clinging to you so tightly you think about talons puncturing your skin. The long, long nights when he’s out doing hero work and you fear that he may never come back to you. The way time stretches interminably on when he says he’ll be gone for a little while and you don’t know if it will be days or weeks or months.

You wouldn’t trade anything for him. Keigo makes you feel seen and beautiful and loved and cherished in a way no other person could ever compare to. You get butterflies when he smiles at you. You cannot imagine a life in which you did not find each other, somehow.

But tonight, your bed in Keigo’s penthouse (big glass windows, so he can feel like he’s flying - a huge bed, with room for his wings) is empty and cold. You wear a too-big ‘Hawks’s Baby Bird’ nightshirt that falls down to your knees, a gag gift from one of your friends who is a member of your boyfriend’s fan club. The little cartoon depiction of him is not enough to make you feel as though he is there with you.

Tonight feels like one of those nights that might last forever.

You roll over in the bed uncomfortably, legs tangling in cool sheets that you wish were warmed by your partner. The space seems to stretch on for an eternity without Keigo’s wings there for you to good-naturedly grouse about as he laughs and pulls you in even closer.

You think not hearing anything might be the worst.

You know what he does is important, you know that he doesn’t always tell you where he’s going because he’s worried about you - you know that being shrouded in secrecy is better for both of you. But not knowing where he is or who he’s with or what he’s doing makes all kinds of worrying scenarios play out in your head as you wonder if you’ll ever see him again, or if the last time you kissed him on the cheek and told him to be careful (and he looked at you with all of the love in the world lighting his gold eyes, his gaze saying far more than his easy laugh and his promise he would come back) would be the last time.

Ugh. You flop onto your back and stare up at the ceiling.

Maybe you should try making yourself a hot drink; distract yourself from the thoughts swirling around your mind and the loneliness that’s eating at your edges. That sounds nice. You swing your legs over the side of the comically oversized mattress, the soft hem of your nightshirt riding high on your thighs - and then you hear a familiar sound, and your heart feels like it swells to double its size in your chest.

You quickly walk from the bedroom into the lounge, following the sound of beating wings and displaced air and something clinking against glass. There, on the balcony outside, stands Keigo - still in his hero costume, red wings in the process of being tucked behind him, keys tinkling in his hand.

Through the window, he catches sight of you - and his smile is so wide it could split his face in two, eyes crinkling at the edges. He fumbles even quicker with the keys, eager to get inside and back to you - and you walk across the room, your feet warm on the cold tiled floor, to meet him.

Up close, you can see that the night has not been kind to him.

Despite the smile that lights up his eyes and transforms his face, there are grazes all over his face; a rip in his hero costume at the sleeve, where he’s bleeding a little. His wings seem fine, but high on the left wing the feathers are bent out of shape and uneven as if he narrowly avoided trapping it somewhere. Your stomach drops somewhere in the region of your feet - and then, Keigo is through the window and it’s clinking closed behind him and you are embraced by all of him, all red feathers and fur jacket and arms wrapping so tightly around you that you can barely breathe.

“Keigo,” your voice comes out in a choked squeak. “Keigo, you’re hurt--!”

“I’m so glad to see you,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck, his normally light tone heavy with emotion. “I missed you so so much. I . . . I thought I might not see you ever again--”

His gloved hands cling to your generous hips, squishing into the soft flesh there, dragging you against him. He noses against your neck, breathing in your scent, as if he’s trying to reassure himself that you’re real and true and there.

“Let me look at your injuries--” You try to say, but Keigo instead pulls you into a searing kiss that makes your knees feel weak. Despite his relatively small stature - compared to most other Pros, anyway - he trains long and hard, and he pulls you into him as if you weigh nothing at all, the softness of your curves and pudge not presenting the smallest of problems. His mouth is hot and beseeching against yours; this is a kiss that says ‘I am alive, and I thought I wouldn’t be’. Fear is still rolling hot through your stomach, but it’s hard not to melt into him when he knows every spot of your mouth and every nerve of your lips as well as he knows his own. His teeth nip needily at your lower lip and you open your mouth for him - let his tongue mark you out as his, sliding across that spot behind your front teeth that makes you full-body shiver in his arms.

It doesn’t seem to matter to him that the two of you are in full view of the windows (not that any paparazzi would be fool enough to try and photograph from here, after the last time) - all that matters is that the two of you are entwined, that Keigo is there and you are there. His hands slide down your hips to knead at the soft globes of your ass, a motion that’s meant to be teasing but instead simply feels desperate.

You break apart from him with a gasp, your heart beating frantically against your ribcage.

“Keigo,” you say, hoping you sound more sure of yourself than you feel. “I need to clean your w-wounds.”

He looks at you all half-lidded and wanting, his mouth swollen from the kiss - actually, you don’t think his gaze has strayed from you once since he first laid eyes on you.

“I needed to kiss you,” he says to you, and he cracks a small smile that doesn’t quite mask the wildness in his eyes. “I needed to remember exactly what you were like. Remind myself you were mine, birdie.”

“The kiss could have waited,” you say, exhaling in a way that’s part laugh and part exhaustion. “You’re hurt.”

One gloved hand raises to your face; his thumb strokes over your cheek. The smile on his face is so sad and so wanting that it makes you ache.

“I could never wait to kiss you,” he says. “Not a second longer than I have to.”

You tug gently on his sleeve; there’s dirt all over the tan fabric. You wonder what happened to him on this mission, but you don’t ask - Keigo never wants you to have to worry about things. He keeps you as safe as he can - makes sure you can work from home, insists that if he can’t go shopping with you groceries are delivered . . . on another person, it might be suffocating. But on Keigo . . .

He hasn’t told you much about his life pre-Wing Hero: Hawks. Still, he has told you more than almost anybody else in the whole world knows, and you understand why he clings to the vestiges of a home he’s managed to build around himself. It’s hard not to be flattered that he considers you home - and you, in return, feel exactly the same way about him.

“Come on,” you say to him, a little more forcefully this time, and you give him a gentle smile so he doesn’t feel like he’s worrying you too much. “Let me clean these scratches and get your uniform off, and I promise you can kiss me as much as you like for as long as you like.”

He lets out a soft laugh but lets himself be tugged across the room anyway.

“My uniform off?” He asks, lightly teasing, the edge of desperation slowly ebbing away now that he is with you and knows you are safe. “Why, birdie, you’ve only gotta ask! Little forward, but I’m not gonna complain--”

You roll your eyes at him, but laugh all the same, as the two of you enter the kitchen and you bully him lovingly into taking a seat on one of the stools by the long breakfast bar. You reach up onto your toes to reach the first-aid kit kept in one of the high kitchen cupboards, feeling the hem of your shirt rise up to reveal the thin red satin underwear you wore to bed--

“Are those Hawks brand, too?” Keigo asks. You can’t see him, but you can just imagine the shit-eating grin that’s painted itself over his face. “Look, I know you want me to stay still whilst you tend lovingly to me, but you’re making this really difficult--”

“Shh,” you tell him, turning around with the little metal tin tucked beneath your arm. “You’re just trying to get out of the antiseptic swabbing, aren’t you?”

It takes you by surprise how quickly he’s shed his garments. You suppose that speed is his greatest asset, but still - you’d heard only a little rustling, and yet Keigo is suddenly sat behind you totally shirtless with his uniform discarded on the stool beside him. You can see almost all of him; the lean muscles of his pectorals, dotted with old scars - the corded forearms, the surprisingly strong hands . . .

You’re grateful to see that the wounds and scratches are only surface-level. They’ll need cleaning and bandaging up a little, but that’s all - he’s not at risk of any infections, doesn’t need to go see any healers or hospital workers. You’re glad - you don’t want him to be out of your sight for any longer than he has to be now that you finally have him back for a while.

You cough as you rifle through the medical kit for anti-bacterial wipes, feeling your face heat up at his proximity and his nakedness. Keigo laughs softly, angling his body closer to you.

“You’re cute when you’re nervous,” he says to you, his voice low and soft. “C’mon. See something you like?”

“Could you stop flirting for one second?” You ask him, as you wipe over one of the nasty grazes on his arm - you don’t think you could look into those golden eyes right now without falling into them like molten pools. “I need to get this cleaned up.”

“You’d be flirting if the prettiest thing in the whole world was touching your naked body,” Keigo says to you, reasonably; and he laughs again when you fumble with the bandage you’re trying to affix to the spot in question. “C’mon. You’re even wearing my merch! How’m I supposed to just sit here and let you look after me when I’m thinking about pinning you to the breakfast bar and having my wicked way with you, huh?”

“Have your wicked way with me when I’m done,” you tell him, and now you have no choice but to turn your hand to the grazes on his cheek - and looking at Keigo’s pretty face takes your breath away in the same way it always does. His eyes are liquid gold, burning you as you gently wipe the blood from his sharp cheekbones. At the touch of your fingers on his face, he takes a sharp intake of breath - and one strong hand lands on the outside of your thigh, thumb pressing softly into the skin there. Your own breath stutters in your chest.

There’s a bloom of heat low in your core, to be looked at like that. Possession and adoration and hunger all mixed up in his gaze, your own body screaming at you that Keigo wants you and you want him and everything else should be thrown to the wayside in pursuit of the pleasure the two of you are clearly longing for.

He breathes out after a moment that feels like it lasts a week, and his voice has dropped a semitone into something rich and low and starving hungry.

“You’re nearly done now, right?” He asks, swallowing, the bob in his throat visible. “I’m not sure how much longer I can stop myself.”

You do not break eye contact as you drop the gauze, as you close the lid of the first-aid kit.

“I’d think a Pro Hero would have more control,” you say to him breathily. “Stop yourself from doing what, exactly?”

He smiles up at you with a wickedness that makes you weak at the knees, and you feel all of your concern about his grazes and bruises and the feathers that have been bent and ruffled in his wings melt away in favour of the persistent pounding in your core.

He moves lightning-fast; utterly deserving of all of his accolades, and before you know it you’re pressed against the breakfast bar, your ass pressed flush against the rim of the surface, and Keigo has dropped down onto his knees.

“Stop myself from eating you all up, birdie,” he says, with a grin bright and hungry, as he presses his nose softly against the plumpness of your thighs. “You’re looking delicious, and I’m starving after being away for so long. Won’t you let a guy have a taste?”

You gasp as he moves his face; as his nose nudges at your mound through the Hawks branded underwear. He breathes in deeply, savouring the scent of you on the air.

“I can tell you want it too,” he teases you. “I can smell you from here. That’s how I know how delicious you’re going to be.”

“Keigo,” you breathe out lightly, but there is no complaint in your tone. Your boyfriend takes this the way it is; your consent for him to do whatever he wants to you, and his smile is knife-sharp in the darkness as his fingers hook into the elastic of the underwear and slowly begin to edge them down your legs.

“Spread for me, angel,” Keigo murmurs, dropping a kiss just above your knee, peppering the skin he can currently get to with more feather soft touches of his lips. “Show me how much you want it. Let me see you; I’ve missed you. Feels like a century when I don’t see you for a day.”

You fall over yourself to please him. You’ve missed him just as much; too deeply for you to care if you seem desperate, when you spread your legs further and let him see the wet mess between your legs. Keigo’s eyes go half-lidded and wanting as he trails the pad of one of his fingers up your thigh to dip between the lips of your sex and into your slick.

“Look at you, pretty birdie,” he says, low and awestruck. “This is all for me? Aren’t I the lucky one? Aren’t you just the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen?”

Your face heats up at the compliments; Keigo is never shy about giving them, of course, but when the position is so intimate and he looks so fascinated it’s hard not to feel woozy with the want that drips off every syllable. Keigo moves his face closer; kisses at the plump spill of your very inner thighs, where they’re damp with your own arousal. Teeth bite into the flesh gently, nipping at you until you gasp.

“Y-you were being serious about eating me up, then?” You ask, a huff of laughter on your lips, as Keigo shifts his attentions to the other thigh, sucking love bites into the soft flesh.

“Just making sure you know you’re mine,” he says, breathless. “Marking you up so you know who you belong to. After I’ve eaten you up, I’ll get on to eatin’ you out--”

He kisses over your sex this time; his breath fanning hot against your most sensitive parts. Your knees almost buckle, and you have to cling to the rim of the breakfast bar to stop yourself from just falling onto him completely. You feel a couple of well-placed breaths away from collapsing onto the floor.

“Is that a . . . a promise?” You ask him, and Keigo chuckles and the vibrations seem to travel from between your legs and right up your spine.

“For you?” He murmurs, and his tongue darts out - laps up your cunt from perineum to clit, and you swear you see stars. “Of course it is.”

Once Keigo has had a taste of you, there’s nothing you can do. You know it from past experience sprawled out on the bed beneath him as he works you over until you’re putty in his hands - when he wants someone, when he wants something, when something is his and it’s his responsibility . . . he will not rest until he’s wrung several orgasms out of you and you can barely move. The kitchen is a brand new development for this kind of thing, but Keigo is more than a little possessive and when you’ve murmured in the heat of the moment about christening every surface in his apartment it’s always gotten him going--

So it’s all you can do, really, to let him eat you out like he’s a man starved and he’s having his final meal before his untimely end.

To let your fingers curl around the rim and to give yourself into Keigo’s mouth as it hotly works you over; his tongue dragging through your folds as if he’s trying to drink you in. Your own mouth falls open as your breath escapes you in little surprised gasps; it seems that for every slow lap of his tongue, he manages to do some kind of swirling trick of athletics that makes you feel like you’re melting into a pleasured mess.

In between the licks and the sucks, he turns his attention back to the soft fullness of your thighs; drops little growling interludes of;

‘Mine’. ‘So beautiful’. ‘So good’. ‘You’re mine’. ‘Mine, mine, mine’.

Kisses and bites and licks and mumbles, the soft abrasive scratch of his scruff making you dizzy and light-headed as you feel all of the pleasure that he brings you work itself into tight knots in your stomach. Sometimes he bites just a little too hard, as if he wants to ensure that the mark takes - and though on another partner, you might push him away, with Keigo it’s hard to not just let your lashes flutter and a soft moan escape at the thought of just how much he wants you to be his.

There’s something to be said about having the mark of ownership of a man like Keigo upon your skin.

He rubs his cheeks against your thighs, uncaring of how your slick is fair dripping from your sex; covering himself in your scent the same way he tries to cover you in his own. You’ve heard him complain when you switch shower gels or perfumes or shampoos; you know he can’t get enough of the natural scent of you. He never cares about cuddling up to you when you feel sweaty or gross - in fact, a couple of times, you’ve thought that it really gets him going--

It’s getting much harder to think the longer Keigo uses his mouth on you.

It’s hard to think of anything other than the sensation of his tongue, the prickling pleasant heat that’s running through your veins, the groans of pleasure that he keeps putting forth with every new lap and suck and kiss of your clit. Your fingers twitch, your thighs shaking wildly, as you hover on the precipice of your orgasm.

“That’s right, beautiful,” he murmurs softly. “Come on. Come for me.”

There’s no question of doing anything but.

Your entire body goes taut all over, like a string waiting to be plucked - and then snaps, as your orgasm washes over you in fierce waves, making your body tingle like fireworks are being set off beneath your skin. You don’t try to muffle your noises - Keigo had coached that out of you with kisses and begging and telling you how much he loves hearing you - so soft whimpers and moans come issuing forth from your mouth, bouncing against the kitchen walls. Keigo makes his own noise in response; a coaxing kind of reassurance that you can let yourself go with him, you’re safe. His mouth is still pressed against your sex, though, his tongue still drinking in the slick you’re pumping out with every clench and pulse of your release.

He stays there even as the orgasm slowly subsides and feeling returns to your extremities. You’re sensitive, your thighs shaking - and Keigo chuckles, pulling back and looking up at you with his eyes all blown with adoration.

“I’ve missed the way you taste,” he tells you, tone teasing. “I’ve missed the way you sound, too. I’ve missed . . . all of that.”

“I’ve missed you more,” you say to him breathlessly. “A-are you going to let me repay the favour?”

Keigo laughs again, and the sound makes happiness bloom in your chest.

“No,” he says, sounding very sure of himself. “I’m not done with you yet, birdie. I need to make sure that every perfect inch of you remembers me; I need to make sure that you’re always with me, that you’re imprinted onto every part of me, that you know just how much I love you and I need you and that I can remember every part of you with my eyes closed--”

Your cheeks are hot at this profession of adoration. It’s not that Keigo is shy about these things - he said ‘I love you’ before you did - but . . . he’s not always prone to these big, grand gestures. He holds your hands and pulls you close and keeps you next to him, plays with your hair and remembers your favourites and checks in on you to make sure everything is alright as often as he can. Love story confessions are not his style--

And that’s how you know that he means every single syllable.

“Th-that’s not fair,” you say weakly, as Keigo takes your hand and tugs you through the apartment instead, a mirror of you taking him into the kitchen to clean his wounds. “I want to do all that for you too--!”

“Ah, but you didn’t get to saying it before me, did you?” He shoots you a broad grin, pulling you into the bedroom. The sheets on your huge bed are still rumpled; he raises one eyebrow. “Not sleep well without me, birdie?”

“You know I never do,” you whisper, and his face goes impossibly soft. He pulls you closer to him, pressing his nose against your own so that the two of you are staring directly into one another’s eyes.

“I love you,” he says, plain and simple. His hands go to touch your hips, to slide up to your waist and to your chest, his touch reverent like a sculptor and his masterpiece. “I love everything about you. If it were up to me, I’d spend every waking minute with you - I’d never let you leave our bed. We’d have everything we need. I . . .” He swallows. “I want to be with you forever.”

“I want to be with you forever, too,” you breathe out - you bring your hand up to stroke over his shoulders, to delicately curve over the musculature in his back to where his wings stand proudly out. He lets out a soft noise of pleasure at the soft touch of your fingers on the downy feathers at the base, his cheeks going pink.

“Then let me take care of you,” Keigo murmurs, softly. “Let me come inside of you so many times you don’t remember what it feels like to have anything inside of you but me.” He takes a shuddering breath - and despite your earlier orgasm, your breath catches and your pulse beats between your thighs as if it’s agreeing that he can do whatever he wants with you. “Please.”

“Keigo--”

“Say I can, birdie.”

His touch gets desperate. His thumbs dig into the soft meat of your waist, the plump pudge there. You make the mistake of flickering your eyes away from his gaze, to between you and below your eye line, to see the way that his cock is tenting the front of his pants in need. You think about Keigo’s cock - about how it feels inside of you, about how perfectly it fills you up, about the sensation of having him come inside and keep going, keep pumping himself into you--

“Keigo,” you breathe, eyes flicking back up to him. “Of course you can.”

As much as you want to get on your knees for him and bring him the same pleasure he’s already brought you today, you can tell that this means a lot to Keigo - and so you’re not surprised when he groans out loud and pulls you back into a fierce kiss. Your lips are nibbled on, your tongue danced with, your entire body dragged into a kiss that Keigo puts every muscle into - until he pulls back, breathless.

“Can we get this off you now?” He asks, tugging at your nightshirt. “Kind of weird to be looking at myself right now, even if I do look very cute as a cartoon--”

You laugh as you pull the dark red cotton over your head. You have a brief moment of doubt - that same flash that comes across you every time you fully disrobe in front of Keigo, a voice in your head saying that you’re not good enough or pretty enough for him - but it’s a doubt that Keigo quickly dispels as he pushes you back onto the bed and begins to pepper every inch of your newly exposed skin with bites and kisses.

“I love these,” he murmurs, palming at your chest with rough calloused hands, plucking your nipples between thumb and forefinger until they stand to stiff attention. “They’re so pretty.” A pinch, and you whine, back arching. “And so sensitive--!”

His tongue follows the path of his fingers, swirling around the nipple and sucking on it with a soft pop until you’re whining even louder, spreading your thighs apart for him in a silent plea to get on with it.

“You’re being needy,” he tells you, with a bite to the swell of your breast that you can tell will leave a bruise. “And I love it. Ask me nicely, pretty birdie--”

“Please fuck me, Keigo,” you say, breathless with need and want and the dizzying desire to have him inside of you. “Please, I want you inside of me--”

He kisses you fiercely again; fabric is displaced lower down his body as he works his trousers off without for a moment breaking the contact of your two lips. His cock slaps against the roundness of your tummy, leaving wet precome in a smear over your navel - hard and long, stiff and aching to find anchor in your port.

“You have no idea what hearing you say that does to me,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. “Spread wider, angel, alright?”

You obey him, spreading your thighs so wide that it’s almost painful.

The two of you have had to experiment with positions many times - Keigo’s wings provide an interesting challenge for ensuring that both of you are comfortable. Even now, in this simplest of positions, his wings make a canopy over you and give a soft red-warm glow to everything beneath them. Keigo smiles at you so softly that it feels like melting, and then his cock is nudging the lips of your sex apart and slowly slowly slowly sinking inside of you.

It’s gratifying, to finally be full. His tongue felt good, but there’s a kind of intimacy in this that it can’t replicate - a feeling that the two of you are melding together, hearts beating as one. Keigo’s eyes flutter closed, a soft sigh escaping his pretty mouth.

“You have no idea how you feel,” he chokes out. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you--”

“You feel like home,” you say to Keigo, and he whines and sheathes himself fully inside of you.

His arms wrap around you, pulling you up so you’re not just laid directly on the bed. His nails - fingers a little sharp, like talons - rake down your back, scratching into you, as he gets used to feel of you hot and tight and wet around him. The two of you are both panting, your own arms wrapping around his neck so you’re as close to him as you can possibly be.

He crashes his lips against yours at the same time as he begins to move his hips in hungry little circles. He isn’t yet fucking in and out of you in wild abandon, but this is still overwhelming after being without him for a few nights and forgetting all of the places inside of you that are stoked like a brand new fire by his cock, stretching you out. You move your hips against him in tiny increments, his abdomen rubbing against your swollen clit in a way that sends pleasant little frissons of electricity up and down your spine.

The electric mixes with the scratches of Keigo’s hands, an overwhelming symphony of sensation that is at once too much and not enough. You lose track of time - you lose track of anything but the feel of Keigo inside of you, the pleasure of being stretched and fucked and taken and knowing you are loved.

His lips against yours, his words against your ear with whispers of how much he loves you and how beautiful you are and how good you are for him. Your own words, coming out slurred and breathless as you both chase your orgasms, wanting to crest that hill together.

“Keigo,” you’re whimpering. “Keigo, Keigo, Keigo.” Chants of his name spilling out of your lips like prayer beads, prayers that he drinks up with his kisses and his own soft entreaties of your name.

“I’m going to--”

“I want you to--”

“Fill me up, please--”

“Fuck--”

You both lose track of who is actually the one speaking; the words come out in a spill that’s mirrored by the twitch of your thighs and the coil of heat in your stomach. Your orgasm hits you like a train, and your fingers curl into Keigo’s short hair at the same time as he digs his teeth into the soft place where your neck meets your shoulders and his cock pulses inside of you, spilling his seed into your sex, marking you out as his. Your own release gushes over his cock, your cunt clenching around him as you pant and whimper. You’re light-headed and dizzy as you chase your aftershocks, gyrating your hips on his softening cock to eke out every last drop of pleasure you can. Keigo’s hands stay on you, sliding to the small of your back, encouraging you as he sucks and kisses on the bitemarks and lets his own pants fill the air.

The comfortable silence that follows your releases lasts only a moment.

He’s come inside of you once, and your body feels full and satiated with your own orgasm, but that’s not enough for Keigo. Even as he pulls out, his cock is already hardening again, a soft groan falling from his mouth as it slaps against the soft flesh of your inner thighs.

“Tell me I can fuck you again,” he murmurs. “I want you to be full of me, birdie. I want you to be dripping with my come for weeks. I need t’fill you up so bad--”

You manage to screw up all of your left-over energy - not that there was much of it - to roll over, gathering yourself up on your hands and knees, spreading your legs further apart and balancing yourself on your elbows. It’s a position the two of you have used often, made all the more comfortable by Keigo’s expensive bed. It means that you don’t have to do much more work than stay there and thrust your hips back into him - and, crucially, it means that Keigo gets so deep inside of you that you swear you feel him in your stomach.

“Yes,” Keigo breathes, already gathering himself up onto his knees. He drops kisses onto the places on your shoulder blades and spine he scratched earlier, soft feather-light whispers of how much he adores you. “Fuck, angel--”

He fits inside of you like a glove; your earlier exertions making him slide inside of you so easily you barely feel the stretch. Your fingers clench into the sheets as you moan out a prayer that sounds like his name, as Keigo continues to drop wet messy kisses all over you. He’s rambling now, about how beautiful you look like this and how good you feel.

“I should fuck you on every surface in the house,” he whispers, as he begins to work his hips back and forth, sliding easily into a rhythm. “I should christen every single one of them, so it feels like home--”

“Okay,” you breathe in return, moving your hips as much as you can. You’re going to come again, you realise, embarrassingly quickly. He just feels so deep inside of you - like there is no end to where he starts or you begin, like there’s nothing in the universe but the two of you and the places you’re joined. One of his hands slaps over yours, holding it as best he can in the position you’re in.

“I need to fill you up,” he’s panting. “I need you . . . need you to be mine, need you to know how much I love you, need you need you need you--”

“I need you,” you reply, in a whimper that feels like a sob as he adjusts his hips just so and oh, the spots he hits inside of you with every thrust . . . You feel born anew again; like this is the first time Keigo has fucked you and you’re as sensitive as a virgin. You squeeze your eyes closed. “I need you more-- please fill me up, I want to be yours, please please please--”

“Say my name,” Keigo begs into your ear, the words broken up with pants. “Say you love me.”

“K-Keigo--!” Your voice pitches as your orgasm clenches all up inside of you. You feel yourself tighten around him. The feeling of him inside of you, the wet glide of his cock, the sting of the bites and scratches from your earlier extremely enthusiastic love-making, all converging together until you can do nothing but let the white hot feeling take you over completely. “I l-love you--”

A moaning whimpering groan of your name, and the two of you are coming together. Keigo’s cock is twitching inside of you, spilling more thick ropes of his come as deep into you as he can to join his earlier load. You moan as you feel it trickle down your thighs, as he fucks it in deeper chasing the aftershocks of his orgasm and your body collapses into a jelly-like mass of nothing but feeling. Keigo lets you collapse and follows you down, breathless laughs turning into moans as you lie there for a few moments sweating and panting in the afterglow of your lovemaking.

It takes a little while for the two of you to disentangle yourself fully; for Keigo’s cock to pop out of you (followed by a little rush of your mixed fluids), for him to drag your sweat-soaked body against him without caring for how you must be messing up the sheets.

“I love you too,” he says, a belated reply to your call as you’d come. Your face goes hot at the reminder.

You curl up against his chest shyly, cheek pressed to his beating heart. Your fingers come up to trace patterns over his skin, and he makes a noise low in his throat almost like a chirp, pleasure at your touch melding with the pleasure of what has transpired between you both. He’s always a little more bird-like in this state; relaxed and sated and happy.

A phone rings somewhere in the distance, and he groans. Eyes fluttering shut.

“It’s in my pocket,” he mumbles in annoyance. “It’ll be the Commission.”

You make a soft noise of displeasure at the Hero Commission already wanting to monopolise his time when it feels like he’s been home for an hour or two at most.

“I’d hoped we’d have a bit longer this time,” you say, and you hope that you don’t sound petulant. You don’t want to resent Keigo’s job! You know he’s one of the top heroes for a reason! But curled up in bed, it’s hard to reconcile Wing Hero: Hawks and Keigo, your boyfriend, your lover, your home. You want longer with him. You want to keep him for yourself.

His mouth twists. Resolutely, he wraps his arms back around you.

“We will,” he says, as he continues to ignore the ringing. “We’ll have more time. They can wait a day. I still have more things I want to do to you.”

“Unfair,” you say, hiding your smile in his chest. “It’s my turn to do things to you.”

He laughs and presses a kiss on the top of your head. The scratches and bruises and bites from your earlier exertions sting pleasantly; a reminder of home, a reminder of Keigo, a reminder of belonging.

“Okay,” he says, with a faux sigh. “It’ll be a challenge, but I’ll take one for the team. I guess you can do things to me next time.”

Both of you laugh and snuggle in closer to one another.

The bed feels so much more right with Keigo in it beside you.

#commissioned work #writing #not sfw text #mha x reader #bnha x reader #hawks x reader #hawks smut #bnha posting #chubby reader posting #bnha smut #mha smut

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