#I can’t wait to get into my own truck so I can pace around and write | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

suguwu · 1 year ago

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lover be good to me: part four

You meet Kita Shinsuke on a rainy summer day, with a sea of hydrangeas swirling at your feet. You know him instantly, as only a soulmate can. He seems like a good man. Like a good soulmate.

But it’s your wedding day.

masterlist

minors and ageless blogs do not interact

pairings: kita shinsuke x f!reader, oc x f!reader

notes: we are finally at the end. thank you so much for coming along on this ride with me. this fic truly is dear to me and i can't believe it's finally done.

as always, massive thanks to my beta for both the edits and the endless support throughout the process, especially when i thought writing this fic would never end.

title and part title are from hozier’s “be”

tags for this part (contains spoilers for fic): soulmate au (first words), this is a very reader-centric story, slow burn, pining, hurt/comfort, reader and kita are implied to be around their 30s, food consumption, non-graphic partner death (not kita), grief/mourning, healing, love as a choice.

wc: 12k

You settle into the farmhouse.

It’s easier than you thought. Maybe it’s the way Yoshida is brusque but kind; she’s not careful with you. It’s a refreshing change of pace.

You find yourself at her side most nights, chopping vegetables or marinating tofu as she tells you about growing up in the country. She spins stories like thread, weaving them together like the expert seamstress she is. Her son joins in some nights too.

You still get lost sometimes, though.

The early mornings are the worst.

The birds sing you to wakefulness, their song high and trilling, and you press your face into the pillow with a groan. “Loud. Shut the window, Aoshi,” you mumble, shoving out at him. Your hand hits empty space and your brow scrunches. You push to your elbows and find a room that’s not your own, though you blearily recognize the suitcase tucked into the closet.

You shift on the bed and realize it’s too small. A twin.

It all comes pouring back in.

“Fuck,” you say, low and quiet. The tears pool in your eyes, burning hot, and you try to blink them back to no avail. You curl in on yourself like a fiddlehead as you lie back down.

You do not move for a very long time.

The world has gone blue when there’s a knock on your door, twilight settling in like the ocean tide, easing its way across the sky. You don’t answer. Another knock comes and then there’s Kita’s voice murmuring your name.

You almost ignore him. But there’s something in his voice you can’t resist, a melancholy thread woven in through the syllables of your name. You get to your feet and open the door.

Kita studies you for a moment. “C’mon,” he says. “Let’s go.”

You blink. “Go where?”

“My place. I’m cookin’.”

“Shinsuke—”

“I know.”

You bite at your lower lip. Kita meets your gaze steadily, his amber eyes darkened to a deep, sweet brown by the dim lighting. There’s a promise in them too.

“Okay,” you say at last. “Let me get dressed.”

He waits downstairs as you throw on some clothes. You can hear him talking quietly to Yoshida. He gives you a little smile when you join him at the genkan.

“Ready?”

“Yeah.”

It’s true autumn now and the slight chill in the air proves it. The rice stalks are spun gold, swaying in the wind as the truck trundles down the road to Kita’s farm. You watch a stork wade carefully through the fields. It dips down with its long, elegant neck and disappears from sight.

The radio is playing quietly. Kita hums along with it sometimes, mostly at the old, crooning ballads. You watch the countryside roll by, the farmhouses little ships in the night, their lit windows a beacon as dusk falls.

He bundles you into the farmhouse when you arrive, handing you a pair of house slippers that have little radishes on them. You can’t help your smile.

You follow him into the living room and settle at the kotatsu when he points you there. It’s close enough that you can see into the kitchen through the open archway; he rolls up his sleeves and starts gathering ingredients from the fridge and the pantry.

“Can I help?” you ask after a few minutes, getting to your feet and joining him.

“Sure,” he says, handing you a freshly-washed daikon. “Slice that real thin, please.”

You make a cut. “This thin enough?”

He peers over. “A little thinner,” he says. “Can I?”

You nod and he takes your hands briefly, guiding them to the thinness he wants and pressing down. His hands are warm, his fingers and palm rough with calluses that catch lightly against your skin. He curls his fingers around yours, his tendons going taut, and pushes down. The knife slides through the daikon and stops against the cutting board.

“There,” he says. “Like that.”

“Okay.”

He nods and heads back to his cutting board which is laden down with a bright medley of varying vegetables. “What’re you doin’ tomorrow?'' he asks.

“Nothing,” you say. “Why?”

You sound more defensive than you mean to. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, a sharp flicker of amber, but says nothing.

“Was thinking you could come out to the fields with me.”

“I don’t know,” you say.

“It’d be good for you to get outside,” he says mildly. “Rather than being up in yer room all day.”

Your knife thunks against the cutting board. Kita is unperturbed, only glancing your way briefly to make sure you’re not injured. He goes back to peeling carrots, his lean, strong hands moving quickly and with steady confidence.

You study him for a moment, taking in the set of his lips and the soft furrow of his brow. You sigh.

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll come.”

He flashes you a tiny quirk of his lips, a smile that’s as fleeting as a summer storm and just as warm.

“Good.”

He keeps cooking as he talks, pulling you from your thoughts when you get lost in them, when the fog starts to roll back in like a marine layer. It’s uncanny, how well he can tell when you’ve been set adrift. He’s a mooring you didn’t know you needed.

Kita hums his thanks as you give him the daikon. He slips them into a pickling mix before handing you a cucumber.

“Peel and cut thin?” you ask.

“Yup.”

As you peel, you can’t help but watch as he moves about the kitchen. He moves as efficiently as ever, no wasted movement, but there’s something soft to it too. You can’t quite pin it down.

“Yer staring.”

“Am I?”

“You know you are.”

You shrug, starting to cut up the cucumber. “I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“Nothing important,” you say, waving him off. “Tell me how Aran is doing, he and I haven’t talked for a while.”

The rest of the cooking goes by quickly as you talk and soon you’re both settled at the kotatsu. It’s radiating warmth. You snuggle deeper into it; with the sun fully set, it’s grown even more chilly outside despite the heat of the day. Winter is still a ways off, but you can feel the first touch of it hidden in the autumn breeze that leaks in through the window Kita had left cracked to keep the kitchen from overheating.

You glance over the food. Kita’s kept it simple but hearty. There’s steam curling through the air in little smoky wisps. You watch as it dissipates and then take the plate that Kita hands you with a small thank you.

It’s a good meal. The two of you talk through it with ease, never missing a beat and rarely with an awkward pause. When you lapse into silence, it’s comfortable.

“I should go,” you say eventually, glancing at the clock. “I don’t want to wake Yoshida when I come in.”

“Alright.”

He drives you home, the headlights of his truck cutting through the night. The moon is out now; it bathes the fields with light until they practically shimmer. The crickets are calling, their song audible even over the low purr of the truck’s engine.

When you pull up to Yoshida’s, there’s a light still on at the engawa, a soft glow to lead you home. It warms something in you.

Kita walks you to the door.

“How early do I have to get up tomorrow?” you ask. “Do I even want to know?”

He laughs quietly. “Ya don’t need to keep my schedule,” he says. “I’ll come get you after lunch.”

“Okay.”

He looks at you. His usual stoicness has faded into something warm and open; you take a deep breath. You bid him a quiet goodnight that he returns just as quietly, his amber eyes knowing.

You go to sleep with your hand wrapped around your wedding rings.

***

“Sunscreen,” Kita says, holding out the tube to you.

“I know, I know,” you grouse, taking it from him. “You don’t have to remind me.”

“You forgot last time.”

“Point taken.”

You apply the sunscreen as he gathers what he needs. He’s still rustling around when you finish. You turn your face up to the sun, letting the rays brush over your skin like a lover, a sweet kiss of heat.

When you open your eyes again, Kita is watching you with a tiny smile, a crescent moon of a thing. Something in you pangs.

You glance away from him and look to the rolling fields instead. In the bright sunlight, they’re Midas-touched, scorched gold with a hint of green at the bottom of each stem. It’s a sea of rice, rippling in the breeze like kelp caught in the ocean’s current, and it’s beautiful in a way that makes you feel small.

Kita comes up beside you and gazes at his farm.

“It’s pretty,” you tell him.

“It’s gotta get cut,” he says.

“I know.”

He glances at you. You blink as he reaches out and smudges his thumb against your cheek. It’s gentle, his touch careful despite the rough calluses on the pad of his thumb. “Ya missed some sunscreen,” he says, rubbing it in with a light sweep. He lingers for a moment before pulling away.

“Oh. Thanks,” you say, biting at your lower lip as he turns away.

“C’mon,” Kita says.

You follow him deep into the field, to a swath of already cleared land. The two of you settle at the edge of it. You watch as he lays out a woven bag with a label stamped on the front of it. He crouches down by the nearest stems of uncut rice and runs a hand over them, thumbing at the panicles with a deft movement.

You don’t think he knows he’s smiling.

“What do you want me to do?” you ask.

He glances back at you. “Can you lay out the bags? One at each pole should do.”

You nod and set to work. He starts cutting at the rice. He makes it look easy, slicing through the stems as if they’re butter. The rice stalks start to pile up beside him as you make your way down the field with the bags.

He’s made a significant dent by the time you’re back. He leans back on his heels as you approach again, wiping off his forehead with the back of his hand. His hair is clinging to him, dark with sweat, deepening the color to slate gray, like the winter sea. He smiles at you.

“Can I try again?”

He’d taught you how to cut last time after you asked, citing the fact that you’ve been coming to the field with him for almost two weeks without trying.

“Sure,” he says. He hands you a pair of gloves; you slip them on. “D’ya remember how to hold it?”

You kneel next to him, wrapping your fingers around a handful of stems. “Like this, yeah?”

“Thumb pointing up,” he says, reaching out and adjusting your grip. “And tighter.”

He tightens his grip around your hand to show you, his strong fingers flexing. You copy him and he lets go when he’s satisfied with your grip. He hands you the knife—curved with a wicked edge—and sits back on his heels again.

“15 centimeters, yeah?” you ask, setting the edge of the knife against the stalks there.

“That’ll work.”

You slice in a downward angle; the stalks part beneath the blade like silk. You hand off the rice to him to add to the pile. You keep working, feeling the sweat start to gather on your back, a few droplets rolling down before getting absorbed by your shirt.

“Good,” he says.

He lets you do a few more handfuls before he takes the knife back. You watch him work. He’s much quicker than you, moving with an easy grace.

“Why don’t ya head back to the truck,” he says, slicing through another handful of stalks. “I’m almost done.”

You listen to him, heading back to the truck and settling in the bed of it, swinging your feet off the edge. You lay back and turn your gaze up to the sky, watching as a flock of birds goes soaring past, their wings dark against the deep blue of the sky.

Kita joins you after a bit. You’ve been watching a hawk circle, riding the current high above you, and you don’t bother to sit up when you hear him approaching.

He climbs up into the truck bed. He settles next to you and then lays down beside you, staring up at the sky with you.

The two of you are quiet. You watch as the hawk wheels and wheels overhead before it dives down, dropping like a shooting star through the sky.

You turn towards him; he’s already looking at you. His amber eyes are soft and you suck in a breath, your stomach flipping.

“Shinsuke,” you say gently. “You know I can’t give you what you want, right?”

“I’m not askin’ you for anything,” he says, just as gently.

“I know. I just—I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, with Aoshi gone.”

He studies you for a moment. Then he smiles, warm and sweet and a little bit sad.

“It’s always what you’re willing to give,” he says. “Nothing more and nothing less. That’s the only idea I have.”

You suck in a breath, fidgeting with your sleeve.

“Okay,” you say. “Okay.”

You both go quiet again.

Kita pushes up to his elbows; you peer up at him.

“C’mon,” he says. “Let’s get going.”

“‘Kay.”

He hops down from the truck bed gracefully before holding out a hand to help you down. You hesitate. He waits patiently, looking up at you. You take his hand without a word, his calluses rough against your palm.

You’re both quiet on the drive back to Yoshida’s. You spend the time looking out the window, watching the fields roll by. There are other farmers still hard at work, their blades flashing in the last dregs of the sunlight, like a dance. It’s a sight you never tire of.

The sun has almost set by the time Kita drops you off. You toe off your shoes in the genkan and find Yoshida in the kitchen, scrubbing down the counter. There’s something savory in the air, rich and thick, and you spot a pot bubbling away on the stovetop, steam curling up from it like smoke.

She eyes you for a moment. You don’t know what she sees in your face, but she gestures you into a seat.

“The fields are doing ya some good,” she says, her eyes still on the soapy counter.

“Are they?”

She nods decisively. “Yer different. You’re coming back to the world.”

You bite at your lip, worrying the flesh between your teeth. It doesn’t feel like it to you; some days you think you’ll never be in step with the world again, destined to always be just a few paces behind.

“It’s hard to see it in yerself,” Yoshida says. “But it’s there.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

You can’t help the smile. A smile blooms on her lips too, small but sure.

“I need to weed tomorrow. Could use your help, unless Shin-chan is going to steal you away again.”

“I’ll help,” you say, ignoring the last bit.

She studies you with keen eyes, opening her mouth to say something, but the front door opens and her son calls out a greeting.

The rest of the night is quiet and morning comes before you know it.

You stare up at the ceiling as the sun rises, watery light leaking in through the sheer curtains. For a moment, you consider rolling over and going back to bed, but you can hear Yoshida shuffling around in her room. You resign yourself to getting up for the day.

A light breakfast later, you’re on your knees in the garden. The soil is still wet with morning dew and it sticks to your skin. The scent of wet loam rises around you, like the earth is welcoming you home. You let it fill your lungs.

The garden is a beautiful one, lush with autumn vegetables. You weed around the fat, sunshine yellow squashes, each one brighter than the last. The carrots are just peeking above the soil, little suns creeping up over the horizon. Their greens sway gently in the breeze.

You’ve forgone gardening gloves despite Yoshida’s offer. It feels good to sink your fingers into the dirt, to pinch the weeds’ roots and pull them up gently.

You’re still working when Kita’s truck trundles up the driveway. You sit back on your haunches and wipe the sweat from your brow as he gets out and comes your way.

“Hi,” he says with a little smile. “Hard at work, I see.”

“Gotta earn my keep,” you say, earning a snort from Yoshida who is working just a garden bed over.

“You have time for a break?”

“Depends,” you say, glancing at the bag he’s carrying. “Are those snacks?”

“Yup.”

“Then I do,” you say, pushing to your feet. “Let me go wash my hands.”

You eat together on the engawa, gazing out into the farmland. The wind chimes rustle above you, clinking lightly, a crystalline symphony just for the two of you. You sit back on your hands as Kita unpacks what he’s brought.

It’s onigiri. They’re still warm, steam curling up from them when you break one open. A little bit of the filling spills out but you’re quick to catch it on your thumb, popping it into your mouth.

“Thank you,” you say, giving him a nudge with your elbow. “They’re good.”

“Yer welcome.”

“You take care of me so well,” you say with a little laugh.

“I try,” he says, utterly serious.

You flinch. It’s tiny, but from the way his gaze finds you, a firefly flicker, he notices. But he doesn’t say anything, choosing instead to take another bite of his onigiri.

“Shin-chan,” Yoshida calls. “Come help an old woman with the watering.”

You glance up to see that she’s heaving a full bucket of water towards the garden. Kita pushes to his feet immediately, crossing to her in a few easy strides. He takes the bucket without even pausing, lifting it with a single hand.

“Granny,” he chides. “Ya could’ve gotten hurt.”

She shrugs. He follows her to the garden beds, glancing back to send you a little smile. You watch him as he carefully waters the garden under Yoshida’s rigid instructions. The sun catches in his hair, bronzes his tanned skin. That same smile he’d flashed you lives on his lips, a quiet contentment tucked up secret into the corner of his mouth.

Kita comes back to you when he’s finished watering, settling at your side on the engawa once more. He eats the rest of his onigiri quickly.

“I’ve gotta get back to the fields,” he tells you. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you say. “Go do your job.”

He smiles at you, his eyes crinkling with it.

He leaves soon after. You watch him go, until all you can see of his truck is the cloud of dust being kicked up behind it, until the horizon swallows him.

Yoshida stands next to you on the engawa, shading her eyes as she watches him go too.

“He’s a good man,” she says casually.

You glance at her.

“He is.”

“You could do much worse in a man.”

“It’s not like that.”

She raises a brow.

“It’s not. It’s just…complicated,” you say, winding your fingers through your necklace’s chain. Your rings clink against each other softly, the sound lost in the myriad of wind chimes surrounding you. For a moment you drift, tears pricking at your eyes before you blink them away.

“‘Course it is,” she says. “Most things are. But ah, pay no mind to an old lady. Let’s go harvest some of the squash.”

You spend the rest of the day in the garden, harvesting away. The first frost isn’t too far off and you need to make sure you don’t lose any of the vegetables to it. Yoshida tells you exactly what to pick and what to leave.

Night falls and you cook the first of the squash, painting it with a sweetened miso glaze that gleams stickily as you serve it. Yoshida makes a few side dishes too, putting them in pretty kobachi dishes. They’re delicate things, the soft silver of the moon, and you find yourself thinking of Kita.

You shake yourself free of the thought before it fully forms. Yoshida’s son pulls you into a conversation and you chatter the night away, until you’re yawning between sentences. You finally trudge up to your room.

The window lets in the faintest hint of gossamer moonlight. You gaze out into the night, into the endless countryside. You can just barely make out the next farmhouse, a lighthouse in the sea of darkness, its lights glittering on the very edge of the horizon.

It looks lonely. You think of Kita again, of the little island of his farmhouse, how it’s tucked between the paddies with no other home in sight. You think of him alone at the kotatsu, reading glasses perched on his nose, and feel something in your chest clench.

You pull the curtains shut and go to bed.

***

The rest of the week rolls by and so does the next. It grows colder each day, winter’s first kiss. The leaves are going orange, as if little fires are catching the edges. It sets the trees ablaze with color. You hop from leaf to leaf as you and Kita walk along the road, delighting in each little crunch.

“Having fun?” he calls out.

You turn around to face him, shading your eyes with one hand. His more sedate pace has left him lagging, but he’s quickly catching up now that you’ve stopped. “Can’t you tell?”

His breath mists in the air, a marine layer, and his lips quirk up into a little smile. “I can,” he says. “Just be careful, yeah? There’s still some frost lingering.”

You hum an acknowledgement and stomp on your next leaf. He chuckles quietly and you fall back to walk with him, shoving your hands into your pockets to ward off the cold.

“Hey,” you say softly. “You know my sabbatical is almost over, right?”

He nods. “I know.”

“I think I’m gonna go home midweek next week,” you say. “Just to give myself some time to settle before I have to go back to work.”

“Makes sense,” he says. “Let me know the details and I’ll get you to the station.”

The two of you keep walking, huddling into each other slightly when the wind picks up. Some of his hair wisps across your face, the touch like silk against your skin. You shiver with it and return your gaze to the countryside, to the rolling hills and the shorn paddies.

One or two of the trees are already fully bare; they reach towards the sky with long-fingered branches. There’s a murmur of swallows nestled in the nearest one, so numerous it’s as if the tree has leaves again. As you watch, they take to the skies, undulating through the soft gray-blue of it.

“I’ll miss it,” you say softly.

“Bein’ here?”

“Yeah.”

“Ya can come back anytime, y’know. There’s always a place for you.”

You glance at him. His stoic face has softened and you think of the thaw of a spring day. How the quiet warmth of it melts the chill away.

“Thanks, Shinsuke.”

“Mhm.”

The two of you walk together quietly before turning around to head back to Kita’s farm when the chilly breeze becomes a whistling wind. It whips through the fields to cut through your clothing and you press into Kita without thinking, seeking the warmth of his solid form. He unwinds his scarf and drapes it around your neck; you don’t bother to protest. He’s immovable about things like this. Instead, you burrow into the warmth of it.

You all but tumble into the genkan of the farmhouse. Kita follows you at a more sedate pace. You toe off your shoes and slip on your usual pair of house slippers. He does the same and you watch as he puts his shoes away carefully, arranging them perfectly within the cubby.

You both settle at the kotatsu, huddling under the thick down of the blanket. You trace a finger over one of the origami cranes patterned into it. They’re perfect, so different from the clumsy paper cranes you’d both made with some of the local children the other day.

Kita turns on the kotatsu. It starts to warm almost immediately and you sink into the heat of it with a quiet sigh.

“What’re you smiling about?” you ask him.

“You,” he says simply.

You roll your eyes. “Okay,” you say.

“D’ya want tea?”

“Sure.”

He slips out from under the kotatsu and heads into the kitchen. You turn enough that you can still see him; you like watching him make tea. He’s careful and respectful of the process from beginning to end, but you like how it loosens his shoulders, how he unfurls, a night-blooming flower.

He rejoins you at the kotatsu once the tea is made, handing you a steaming cup. The scent of it billows through the air. When you sip at the tea, it settles warm in your chest, pushing out the autumn chill.

“You’ll have to teach me how to make tea like this,” you tell Kita.

He smiles into his cup. “It’s not hard.”

“Says you.”

“Might not have time to teach you before you go,” he says with a frown. “The farm—”

“You can teach me when you visit.” You pause. “You will visit, right?”

“Of course.”

“Good,” you say, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “You can teach me then.”

He agrees and the conversation flows until it’s late. You peer out into the darkness and see the moon—full-bellied with light—is beginning to set, sinking through the dark ocean of the sky like an anchor.

“Shit,” you say. “I didn’t mean to keep you up.”

“S’fine,” Kita says. “I don’t mind.”

“I know, I know. Ugh, I’m gonna wake up Yoshida when I get in.”

“You can stay, y’know.”

You glance at him. He meets your gaze steadily.

“I have a guest room,” he reminds you.

“Okay,” you say after a moment. “Okay.”

“You’ll have to get up early, though.”

“That’s fine.”

He smiles softly. “Okay,” he says. “Let’s finish cleaning up.”

You clean up the kotatsu quickly; despite the late hour, Kita still takes the time to wash the dishes. He washes them with careful concentration and something in your chest pangs.

“Go ahead to the guest room,” he says. “‘M almost done here. I’ll see if I can find you somethin’ to sleep in.”

“It’s fine,” you tell him. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm.”

“Alright.”

The guest room is homey, with a handmade quilt patterned with rice plants that almost look like they’re rippling in the wind. You trace a finger over one of them as you glance around the rest of the room, taking in the way the stark cleanliness is offset by the items scattered about: the fan patterned with cherry blossoms hanging on the wall; the plant at the window, lush despite the season; a paperweight on the desk, glass swirled through with blue and white, the ocean roiling within it. It’s not quite Kita, but you can sense him in it all the same.

Kita knocks on the door frame. You turn to look at him. “Here,” he says, holding out a toothbrush and toothpaste. “Thought you might need these.”

“Thanks,” you say, sending him a little smile. “Appreciate it.”

“‘Course.”

“Night, Shinsuke.”

“G’night,” he says. “I’ll wake you in the morning.”

“Sounds good.”

He disappears into his room.

You get ready for bed and slide under the covers. The quilt is heavy and warmth builds quickly under it, like a banked fire. You turn your face into the pillow to hide from the moonlight slanting in through the window. The pillowcase smells vaguely like Kita and the simple detergent he uses.

Sleep comes easily.

So easily that it feels like you’ve only been asleep for a second when Kita’s knocking on the guest room door to rouse you for the day. Blearily, you slip on your clothing before trudging into the kitchen.

Kita glances up as you enter. His hair is still damp from the shower; it glistens like the gray winter sea beneath a bleak sun.

“Mornin’,” he says.

“Hi,” you grumble.

He breathes out a quiet laugh. “C’mon,” he says. “Let’s get you home.”

You drowse on the ride back to Yoshida’s, just aware enough to hear the quiet hum of the radio as it fills the truck’s cab. The sun is starting to rise, the first fingers of light painting the horizon orange, like embers just beginning to catch. You turn away from it, curling into yourself in the front seat.

The truck rumbling to a halt wakes you. You grouse and Kita laughs again. He doesn’t bother to dodge when you swat at him.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” you say with a yawn, one hand on the car door’s handle, already looking forward to crawling back into bed.

“‘Course,” he says. “You always have a place with me.”

You pause.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “I know.”

His eyes crinkle with his smile.

“Go to work,” you tell him.

“Yes ma’am.”

You hop out and head to the genkan. You hear the truck rumble to life behind you, the engine practically purring. By the time you make it to the genkan and look back, Kita is already down the road.

You watch until he’s gone from view.

***

This early, the train station is quiet.

The sun is still rising, casting pale golden rays across the parking lot. It haloes Kita in light as he pulls your suitcase from the truck bed, his muscles flexing with the movement. You take it from him and the two of you head towards the platform together.

“Travel safe, alright?” he says when you come to a halt just before the doors.

“Shinsuke,” you say, “thank you for everything.”

“Anytime.”

“You’ll visit?”

“I’ll visit,” he confirms. “You?”

“I’ll come back,” you say.

“Good.”

He smiles at you, a slow, sweet thing that makes you think of the sun’s rise. It’s steady and sure, unshakeable.

You throw your arms around him in a hug. He stumbles for a second, caught off guard, but he catches himself quickly and wraps his arms around you. He holds you tightly. You bury your face in his shoulder. He smells like plain soap, fresh and clean, with the faintest kiss of lemon, a touch of sour citronella that you know he uses for the fields.

When you pull away, the tips of his ears are pink.

“Bye, Shinsuke,” you say.

“Bye,” he says softly.

You head inside the station. When you glance back, you can just make out the silhouette of him, lean and strong. He must be able to see you, because he gives a little wave before he turns away.

The train is almost empty when you board it and you settle in a window seat. You close your eyes and turn your face towards the sun, the gentle rays just barely starting to warm as they brush against your skin.

You open your eyes when the train starts to move, peering out of the window as the countryside speeds by. The rice fields are shorn short now but the gold of them hasn’t faded. The remains of the stalks reach towards the great blue sky, two expanses meeting. Beyond the fields, even the hills are going golden, though they’re slower, with green patches scattered across them like lily pads in a pond.

You think you might be leaving a part of yourself in the expanse of the country. That the fields have swallowed up some part of you, like the earth swallows a seed. It makes something in you pang.

Soon enough, the countryside melts away into the suburbs. Then come the neon lights of the city, streaking by like fireflies, little blips of color that blink to life here and there.

You hadn’t realized how much you missed it.

The house is quiet when you step into the genkan; only the musical clink of your keys fills the space. The greeting is on the tip of your tongue, but you catch it behind your teeth and swallow it back down. You take in a deep breath and set your suitcase down before brushing by the photos in the entryway, most of them facedown.

It takes time to unpack. Most of your clothes are clean, but you run a load of laundry anyway, listening to the way the water swishes and spins, the low rumble of it filling the house. You text Kita to let him know you’ve arrived safely and then collapse onto your couch, staring up at the ceiling.

You don’t know how long you lie there before you hear the door to the house open. Muffled bickering floats to you from the genkan and you push yourself up just as Abe comes barreling around the corner.

She skids to a stop just before the couch and grins down at you.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi,” you reply. “Did you break in?”

“No,” Yoshikawa says, appearing from around the corner. She twirls something around her finger; it glints in the light. “Used the spare.”

“It’s funny,” you say. “I don’t remember inviting either of you over.”

She shrugs elegantly, her long hair swaying like kelp in a current. “Did you really think we were going to miss you coming home?”

“No,” you say with a little laugh. “I didn’t.”

“Good.”

You exchange hugs with both of them, holding them tightly and yelping when Abe spins you in a circle. Yoshikawa is more sedate but her hug is strong and warm. You blink away the tears before they can fall.

The three of you settle into the living room. You catch up with each other easily, swapping stories and laughing together, the sound billowing through the room to fill even the darkest corners with joy. Your heart aches as Abe throws back her head and laughs, her dark hair shimmering in the light, her hand over her mouth to muffle the sound.

“You’re too easily entertained,” Yoshikawa informs her, but there’s a smile playing at her lips too, downy-soft and deeply pleased.

“Shut up,” Abe says, still giggling.

For a moment, you just watch them, taking in their features, their smiles, the sound of them. You want to commit them to memory, parts of them that you’ve taken into yourself to treasure, to keep. Pieces never to be lost.

“Hey,” Yoshikawa says. “What’s wrong?”

You realize that your cheeks are hot and wet. You scrub a hand over your face as more tears fall.

“Nothing,” you say. “I just really missed you.”

She hums, but doesn’t push you on it, sending Abe a look when she opens her mouth. “We missed you too,” she says. “Do you want us to spend the night?”

“Yeah,” you say softly, thinking of how empty the house was before they filled it. “That would be great.”

“Okay.”

The conversation picks up again, only pausing when you order takeout as night falls. Though you’ve spoken consistently with them while you were in the country, there are still stories to tell. The three of you talk and talk, full of laughter and love, and it only feels a little bittersweet.

As the night deepens, Yoshikawa and Abe go to the genkan and grab the bags they’ve brought, much to your embarrassment. Abe pats you on the shoulder as you bury your face in your hands. Neither of them comment.

You tumble into bed with them in a mess of limbs. When the dust settles, you’re curled up on your side of the bed, almost pushed off the edge by Abe’s starfished limbs. You poke her in the stomach and she curls up with a groan. You reclaim the space quickly.

“Rude,” she tells you.

“You were taking up the whole bed!”

She grumbles but doesn’t bother to argue.

Quiet falls, only the gentle sound of breathing filling the room. You snuggle down into your comforter, pushing closer to Abe and relishing her warmth.

“I invited Shinsuke to visit,” you breathe.

Yoshikawa pushes up to her elbows behind Abe, peering down at you with her dark, knowing eyes.

“Here?” she asks.

You nod, the pillowcase crinkling against your cheek.

She hums, low and sweet, a honeyed thunder. “You’ll let him stay at the house?”

“I don’t know,” you say, thinking of Takao, the way he’d been flayed open when he asked you to not bring Kita to the house. “Aoshi—”

“Isn’t here,” Yoshikawa says gently. “You don’t have to hold on to that promise if you don’t want to.”

You blink against the tears as they swell up, beading on your eyelashes like little diamonds. Abe reaches out and cups your cheek.

“You’ll figure it out,” she says softly. “You don’t need to know now.”

You close your eyes, a few more tears trickling down. The pillowcase is damp beneath your cheek. “Yeah,” you say quietly. “You’re right.”

“I always am,” she says, and then yelps when Yoshikawa pinches her. “Ow, Yocchan!”

Yoshikawa ignores her, settling back down onto the bed with a yawn.

It’s contagious; you find yourself yawning as well and snuggle down deeper into the comforter once more. Abe shifts closer, seeking heat.

You fall asleep with her pressed tight against your side.

It feels like coming home.

***

Fall fades away.

The trees lose their leaves entirely, leaving branches that reach into the sky with scraggly fingers. Frost creeps over the windows in icy whorls, a cobweb of winter, fanning out in intricate patterns that melt when you breathe on them. The winter sun glows in the softened blue of the sky, only to be replaced with gray clouds.

The first snow is falling when you go to pick up Kita.

The flakes are fat and fluffy, perfectly crystalline. They flutter through the air like butterflies, spinning in great, lazy arcs as they drift to the ground. They melt as soon as they hit the pavement.

They catch in Kita’s hair as the two of you head into the house, little dew drops that make his gray hair shine. He’s cherry-cheeked with the cold, his face half-buried in his scarf. It’s cute. Something in you pangs when he sends you a little smile, only discernible by the way his eyes crinkle at the edges.

The two of you peel off your outer layers in the genkan. Kita puts his away carefully, at odds with your slightly haphazard method of kicking your boots away to find later.

“It’s future me’s problem,” you tell him and he just shakes his head, a small smile caught in the corner of his lips.

You show him to the guest room, freshly made up for his visit, and linger in the hallway as he stores his suitcase.

“Dinner?” you ask as he steps out into the hall again.

“That’d be great.”

“C’mon, I’ve got some things ready in the kitchen.”

“Sounds good.”

He follows you into the kitchen and insists on helping. You direct him to the plates as you check on what you’ve made. There’s colorful tsukemono, each pickled vegetable bright in its own way, stained to watercolors by the pickling liquid. The curry is thick and bubbling, with chunks of heavily marbled meat and vegetables coated in the sauce. The rice is steaming lightly and so are the nikuman, each bun pinched shut perfectly.

“Ya didn’t need to go to all this trouble,” Kita says, eyeing the food as he sets the table.

“Too late,” you say cheerfully. “Eat.”

He smiles softly, shaking his head, but sits down when you gesture. You join him and the two of you start to fill your plates.

You talk quietly as you eat, all easy chatter. Part of you can’t help but think of the beginning, when everything with him was stilted and careful. That’s changed through the years but it’s even easier now, the conversation flowing like a river, calm and unchanging.

When you’re done eating, Kita collects the plates and brings them to the sink. He rolls up his sleeves and turns the water on. You sigh but don’t bother to say anything. Instead, you settle in next to him with a dish towel in your hand.

He’s radiating a soft, gentle heat. It takes conscious effort to not lean into him.

He washes and you dry, falling into an effortless rhythm.

“Are you seeing Aran while you’re here?” you ask.

“He’s away trainin’,” Kita says, handing you another dish. “So’s Atsumu. I’ll see Osamu, but you know I’m here to see you, right?”

Your cheeks heat. “I know,” you say. “But two birds, one stone, y’know?”

He hums, rinsing off the final dish and drying his hands. He leaves his sleeves rolled up, exposing his forearms. For a moment, you watch the play of his muscles, the way they coil beneath his tanned skin as he picks up the dry dishes and brings them back to the cabinet. You look away when you realize what you’re doing.

You both go to bed early that night; Kita’s tired from his usual early wake-up and the travel. You try not to laugh as he bids you goodnight. It’s cute, the way he blinks sleepily, his amber eyes softened to a honeyed brown.

You can hear him as you get ready for bed, the quiet little noises of another person’s presence. It soothes something in you.

You glance at your wedding rings, ensconced in a little jewelry dish on your nightstand. They gleam in the light. You run your fingers over them, tracing the cool metal gently.

You put them away in a drawer before you go to sleep.

***

The snowstorm hits on the last day of Kita’s visit.

The wind whips between buildings, catching the snowflakes and tossing them about like ships on a stormy sea. The snow piles up into thick drifts, the silken white of it gone yellow beneath the glow of the street lights, like a melting pat of butter.

You and Kita watch the storm from where you’re tucked under the kotatsu. You’d pulled it out when you’d heard the forecast, the two of you working together to get it set up. It still works, luckily, and the two of you sit next to each other and bask in the soothing warmth.

The wind slows; you gaze at the snowflakes as they slow, drifting like dancers across the stage, each puffy flake a part of its own ballet. Everything has gone quiet, muffled at the edges. It’s like the world is waiting to take its next breath.

“What are you thinking?” Kita asks softly.

When you glance at him, he’s already looking at you.

“I don’t know,” you say, your voice just as soft as his. “All sorts of things.”

He hums quietly.

The wind picks up again; the windows rattle with it. You shiver, snuggling further under the kotatsu. Kita shifts. His leg presses against yours, a line of warmth even under the heat of the kotatsu.

You glance at him. He’s watching the storm. It reflects in his eyes, lightening them, taking them from amber to gold. You think of the rice fields at their peak, when they’re treasured gold, and can’t help the small smile that curls around your lips.

Perhaps he feels your gaze, because Kita turns to face you. In the low light, he’s softened at the edges, a watercolor being. His eyes are aglow, like sunlight pooling. He gives you a small smile.

“What is it?”

“I’m so lucky to have you,” you say quietly, the words pouring from you like a waterfall, something unstoppable.

He goes still for a breath, a statue of old. Then he softens again.

“You’ll always have me,” he says, and you used to hate how true it is. Now, though—now it feels different. Just a bit.

“Thank you, Shinsuke,” you say.

Something flickers over his face like heat lightning, too quick for you to comprehend. You think you might have disappointed him.

You turn your gaze away. It lands on a picture frame placed face-down. You suck in a deep breath. Before you can stop them, the tears are burning behind your eyes, starting to trickle down your cheeks. You scrub at them with one hand.

“Sorry,” you say to Kita.

“S’alright,” he says. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you say, even as another tear trickles down to pool salty on your tongue.

He reaches out, his hand hovering in the space between the two of you. He waits.

You nod.

He cups your cheek and sweeps his thumb under your eye. His touch has the same aching tenderness of a fresh, swollen bruise. You lean into his palm, keeping your eyes on his, your cheeks hot as he smiles at you sadly.

He wipes away the tears before pulling back. You can see the gleam of them on his thumb.

“Thanks,” you say softly.

“Course.”

You scrub away the remains of the tears and then blow out a big breath. “Wanna watch a movie or something?”

Kita studies you for a moment. You don’t know what he sees in your face, but he nods, giving you a soft smile. “Sure.”

“Great,” you say, pushing to your feet. “You choose.”

“If you want,” he says, standing as well and heading towards the living room. “No complaining, though.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll be there in a minute,” you call after him, leaning down to turn off the kotatsu. You tuck the comforter in, tidying it up lightly. You nod to yourself. When you turn around, you pause for a moment, your gaze settling on the face-down picture frame.

It’s a photo you know well, one of you and Takao on the beach, the ocean a vast expanse behind you, glittering with the searing blue of the tropics. You’re caught mid-laugh as Takao plants a kiss on your cheek. It’s always been a favorite.

Before you leave the room, you stand the picture frame back up.

***

You drop Kita off at the train station early the next day. You breathe him in as you hug him goodbye, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He tightens his grip around you with a little laugh.

“I’ll come to the farm in spring,” you tell him. “I promise.”

“Good.”

You wave goodbye as he enters the train station; he glances back right before he disappears through the doors. Something warm blooms in you. It settles in your stomach and flutters there.

When you’ve made it home, you pull out your phone. You settle onto the edge of the couch as it rings, your shoulders stiff.

It rings until the voicemail clicks on and Takao’s voice floods your ears. You close your eyes as his voicemail message plays, letting his voice wash over you like a summer storm, a warm, sweet rain. You listen to Takao talk, relearning the cadence of his voice, the way it rises and falls, the way his tongue curls around words. You hadn’t realized how much of it you’d forgotten.

“Hi,” you say when the tone beeps. “I miss you.”

You’re quiet for a moment; the line carries on, reflecting you breathing back to yourself.

“Shinsuke just left,” you say. “Aoshi—I think I like him. More than I ever thought I could. Is that alright?”

The line is silent.

“I didn’t mean to like him,” you say. “I really didn’t. But he’s good, Aoshi. He’s so good.”

You sniffle.

“I don’t know what to do,” you murmur. “I don’t know how to leave you behind. But I think—I think he’s okay with that. I just—it feels like giving in. Like our choice, the one we made over and over again, was for nothing.”

You take in a deep, steadying breath.

“I know that’s not true. I know that our choice was for everything. That it never really was a choice in the first place, not for me.”

“I just—I really think I like him, Aoshi. Is that alright? Please tell me it’s alright.”

The voicemail beeps; you’ve hit the end of the time you can record. You hang up and bury your face in your hands.

“Fuck. Fuck!”

You lay back on the couch, rubbing at your eyes with the heels of your hands. You curl in on yourself.

You grab your phone and dial again.

“Hi.”

“Natsumi.”

“Oh, shit, no nickname, that’s not a good sign.”

“I think I like Shinsuke.”

She pauses. “Is that a bad thing?” she asks gently.

“I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

“It just—”

“Feels like giving in?”

“...Yeah. Was this always going to happen?”

“Maybe,” she says. “But maybe not. You don’t have to be with him, you know. If you don’t want to, that is.”

“I don’t know what I want.”

“I think you do,” she says gently.

“I don’t, Nat-chan.”

“Okay. Okay. Let me put it this way: is your only issue with Kita the fact that he’s your soulmate?”

“He’s not Aoshi.”

“No one is going to be Aoshi. You know that.”

“I do.”

“Liking Kita isn’t giving up on Aoshi. It’s not leaving him behind. It’s just moving forward. You’ll bring him with you no matter what, no matter how far forward you move,” she says, and you bite at your bottom lip until you can taste blood.

“I don’t want to be with my soulmate just because they’re my soulmate.”

“Do you really think you might like Kita just because he’s your soulmate?”

“...No.”

“It’s not bad to like him,” she says, not unkindly. “You’re not bad for liking him because of who he is.”

“I don’t even know if I really like him.”

“Sweetheart,” Abe says, “we wouldn’t be having this conversation if you didn’t.”

You go quiet. As her words settle in, you glance out the window. The snow on the ground is still pristine; it glimmers under the bleak winter sunlight. The neighborhood children are starting to stomp through it. They’re bundled up tight, practically waddling as they play. You take a deep breath.

“Maybe you’re right,” you say.

“I don’t know how many times I have to say that I always am before you believe me.”

“You’re wrong way too much for me to believe that.”

“Don’t be mean!”

You smile. “Thanks, Nat-chan,” you say softly.

“Any time,” she says. “You’ll figure it out.”

As you hang up, you know that you will.

***

Winter melts into spring.

The snow gives way to crocuses, which bloom like bruises, deep purple with stamen peeking shyly out of the center. The trees come to life, budding quickly, little specks of green dotted along the branches like stars.

And on the farm, there are ducklings, tiny and fluffy, their down pollen-yellow.

“Oh, Shin,” you say as he hands you one, dropping it carefully into your hands. It peeps its protest before snuggling up in your palm like a tiny sun. “I love them.”

He chuckles softly, the sound low and rich. “I thought you might. Do you wanna name ‘em?”

“Really? You’ll let me?”

“Course.”

“I’ll have to think of good ones,” you say. “Can I have a few days?”

“Take as much time as you need,” he says. “They’re not going anywhere.”

You nuzzle up against the one in your hand; it peeps again, as if grumbling at you. When you glance at Kita, he has a fond smile playing on his lips.

He takes you around on some of his other chores. There are seedlings in the garden, tiny little things just barely poking out of the ground, a promise of green growth. You water them carefully, wary of their thin, delicate stems.

Finally, you find yourself back in Kita’s genkan. Your boots—a pair of his, really, laced tightly to keep them on—are muddy, so you stop just inside the door. You’re leaning down to untie the boots when Kita kneels before you.

“Shin…” you say and he glances back up at you with mischief in his smile. You decide it’s not worth it to try and stop him.

He makes quick work of the laces with his deft fingers. You watch his bent head quietly, taking in the thunderstorm gray of it, edged with blackened clouds. You catch yourself before you run your fingers through it.

“Up,” he says. You steady yourself with a hand on his shoulder as you step out of first boot; he wraps his hand around your wrist.

It’s not long before both boots are off. Before you can even start to move, Kita has your house slippers in hand. He takes your ankle in his big hand, waiting for you to lift your foot so he can slip on the first slipper.

You almost balk. But he looks up at you with his keen amber eyes and you can’t help yourself. You lift your foot and he slides the slipper into place. He does the same thing with the second slipper.

“Thanks,” you say, cheeks hot.

He nods. He pushes to his feet, a graceful ripple of motion, and tilts his head at you. “Lunch?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say. “That sounds good.”

You cook together with ease. You know his kitchen by heart now, able to pull pans from their place without looking, knowing which of his fresh herbs to clip without double-checking with him.

It makes something in you ache.

Kita returns to the fields after lunch. You choose to not go with him, deciding instead to curl up on the engawa with a book. You settle into place with your book on your lap and stare out into the countryside.

It’s just beginning to go green with the flooded paddies glinting in the sun, a false ocean. The water glimmers with movement as the breeze rolls over you. A stork prowls through the paddies, long and elegant, moving with slow precision. Its beak flashes as it darts down to snap up some little creature. It takes off after that, spreading its wings wide and soaring into the blue expanse of the sky. You watch until it’s no more than a dot in the vastness.

You curl up and start reading and don’t notice when evening starts to fall. That’s where Kita finds you when he comes home from the fields. You hadn’t even noticed his truck trundling up the driveway.

“Hi,” you say as he comes up on the engawa, marking your place and getting to your feet.

“Hi,” he replies. “Have you been here all afternoon?”

“How’d you know?”

“Just a guess.”

You eye him, trying to figure out what’s given you away. Kita stays stoic, as if carved from stone, and you huff.

You follow him inside, kicking off your outside shoes before he can even try to kneel, and hop up from the genkan. As usual he goes to shower, ready to rinse off the fields. You keep reading.

He comes padding back into the kitchen a while later with a towel wound around his neck. His hair is still damp and you can see a cowlick curling at the back of his head. His tan skin glistens.

“Dinner?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say. “What do you want to make?”

You discuss your options in front of the fridge, crowded in next to each other to see what he has. He’s still warm from the shower. You press closer to him and see him glance at you from the corner of his eye. He smiles, soft and sweet, and turns his attention back to the fridge.

Eventually, you finally decide. Kita hands you a handful of carrots and you start to julienne them thinly, your knife—perfectly sharp, the most well-maintained kitchen knife you’ve ever seen—flashing in the light.

He starts halving baby bok choy, little gems of green and white. The pan hisses when he drops them in, giving it a good toss before he moves on to his next task.

“Is it really okay for me to be here during such a busy season?” you ask.

He glances at you. “I wouldn’t invite ya if it wasn’t a good time.”

“True.”

“Besides, I told you there was always a place here for you, and I meant it.”

Your cheeks heat. “I know.”

“Good.”

Quiet falls, broken only by the sound of your knife against the board and the hiss of the pan as Kita stirs it again. It’s comfortable, though, and you feel no need to fill the air. The two of you cook away, moving around each other easily in his small kitchen, as if it’s a dance you’ve always known.

It’s comforting in a way you’d almost forgotten.

You take a deep breath, your stomach churning a bit, and Kita glances over at you.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Just tired.”

He smiles softly. “If you wanna go to bed early, I don’t mind.”

“We’ll see,” you tell him. “Now finish up, I’m hungry.”

He laughs, but the two of you are done cooking not long after. You settle down to eat. You tell him some ideas you’ve had to name the ducks (“Duck is a perfectly good name, Shin!” “If ya say so.”) and he tells you about his day. It’s peaceful. Easy.

You’ve just finished eating when you reach out and cover Kita’s hand with your own. “Shin,” you say. “Thank you.”

“Fer what?”

You shrug, unable to put the jumble inside you into words.

He turns his hand over under yours and laces your fingers together. You don’t pull away.

“Yer always thankin’ me,” he says softly. “You don’t need to.”

“I do, though.”

“You don’t.”

You look at him. He meets your gaze easily, amber eyes gone whiskey-dark. He gives your hand a little squeeze.

“You don’t need to thank me for anything,” he says.

You squeeze back. “I will, though.”

He sighs but doesn’t argue.

For another moment, you both sit there, hands intertwined. You watch each other. You can feel the strength in his fingers and the hint of sweat on his palm. It’s warm and solid and real. Something in your chest stirs.

You’re the one that pulls back first, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Kita lets you go without a word.

The rest of dinner is quiet; you both go to your rooms early, influenced by Kita’s schedule. You murmur a soft goodnight in the hallway. You can still hear him when you’re in the guest room, listening to him rustling around before it all goes silent.

You gaze out the guest room window, taking in the rising moon. It’s waxing, almost full-bellied with light, pouring over the fields. It reflects off the water of the flooded paddies, a distorted mirror of itself. Under the moonlight, the fields go silvery, delicate and gossamer as they start to come to life. It’s beautiful in a foreign way.

You curl up on the bed with your book, texting Yoshikawa and Abe here and there as your phone lights up. When the moon is high in the sky, you finally get ready for bed.

You fall asleep thinking about the weight of Kita’s hand in your own.

***

Something shifts between you.

It’s slow like a dune in the wind, the sand taking on a new shape, but neither of you have mentioned it. Maybe you don’t need to. Maybe it’s all said in each fleeting glance, a language written in the amber of Kita’s gaze.

The days pass in a flicker of quiet moments. You spend a morning naming the ducklings, tucked in close to Kita’s side so he can see which one you’re pointing to. You repeat yourself as he takes them in, his brow furrowed as he notes the name for each nearly-identical duckling.

Some days you join him in the fields, kneeling down into the muck to sow a shoot into place. He guides you with careful hands, his warm fingers wrapped firmly around yours. You eat lunch in the bed of his truck, mud flaking off of your boots, and bask in the spring sun.

It’s easy. It’s terrifying.

You think of the taste of ozone, how it crackles on your tongue. The slow, sharp bite of it.

You know something will give. That the storm will break over you and change everything in its path.

You think you might finally be ready for it.

***

You come awake with a jolt.

The sheets stick to you, caught in the layer of sweat accumulating on you. You sit up and press a hand to your heart, thrumming like a hummingbird’s wings.

Once you’ve regained your breath, you stumble over to the window and pull it open. The countryside breeze billows inside. It still carries the sharp bite of winter, but it’s mellowed under spring’s tender bloom. You close your eyes and let it flow over you.

The breeze cools you, your sweat going tacky before it dries down completely. The dream rolls over you again and you shudder.

You find yourself padding down the hallway without realizing it. You stop just in front of the door. You tug at your lower lip with your teeth before taking a deep breath.

You knock gently on the door and then open it.

“Shin?” you whisper.

The lump on the bed stirs. Kita pushes up onto his elbows. He’s bathed in moonlight, his hair haloed silver, the dark tips a moon’s eclipse. He’s bleary-eyed but he focuses on you instantly.

“You alright?” he asks.

“Bad dream.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

You hesitate.

“That bad?”

You shake your head. “I just…can I lay with you for a bit? Is that okay?” you ask, heart in your throat. You need to know he’s still here. That he’s real.

His eyes widen before they go soft. He pulls back the covers and scoots over to give you more room. You’re across the room in an instant, slipping onto the futon. It’s still warm with his body heat and you shiver, goosebumps dancing across your skin.

You keep a small distance between you when you lay down, but you let your head turn towards him. He’s still up on one elbow, the muscles in his bicep bunched with it, and he’s studying you carefully.

He’s handsome, you realize, not for the first time. He’s sleep-rumpled, his hair messy and ruffled and his shirt wrinkled and bunched up just enough to show off a silver of his paler belly. The moonlight plays over him like a lover, lingering on the arch of his cheekbones and the dusting of freckles sprayed over his nose. His thick lashes flutter as he blinks, showcasing eyes gone golden, and you almost sigh.

He lies back down when you don’t move. The space between the two of you is small but it feels massive, a gulf between your two bodies, separating the shores of you.

“You okay?” he asks again.

You shake your head.

He reaches out and hesitates halfway, his big hand hovering in the air. In the moonlight, the constellation of his scars is more visible, little nicks and cuts that gleam bone-white in the light.

“Can I?” he asks.

Your nod is tiny; the sheets crinkle with it.

He cups your cheek. His palm is rough against your skin but he’s careful with it, touches you as if you’re made of glass. It’s almost reverent. He sweeps his thumb across the apple of your cheek.

“What did you dream of?” he breathes.

“You.”

“Me?”

“I couldn’t find you,” you murmur, leaning into his touch. “I looked and looked, but you weren’t there.”

“I’m here now.”

You hum.

“I’m here now,” he says again and it sounds like a promise.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “You are.”

You shift on the futon. The sheets smell of him, of the faintest hint of the salt of his skin and his soap, and you close your eyes to let it envelop you. You nestle down into the pillow with a little yawn.

“Go back to bed,” Kita murmurs, caressing your cheek with careful fingers. “You’ll be tired in the morning.”

You stir under his touch, opening one eye. He’s watching you, his amber eyes unbearably fond, and something in you pangs. You press closer to him; he radiates a gentle warmth and you relax into it.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” you ask quietly. “Please?”

You pretend to not hear the way his breath catches.

“You sure?” he asks.

You press closer, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“Yes.”

“You’re gonna regret it when my alarm goes off at dawn,” Kita says, a smile written in his sleep-rough voice.

“I won’t,” you say. “Promise.”

He hums skeptically.

“Maybe you’ll regret it,” you whisper into the salt of his skin. “You might.”

He stills, and then he’s coaxing you up to look at him. His eyes gleam in the dim, a flash of amber, of the richness of the earth. He leans forward and presses his forehead to yours.

“No,” he says. “I could never regret you.”

He always hears what you can’t quite bring yourself to say.

“Never?”

He nudges his nose against yours.

“Never.”

His breath stirs against your lips, and you take it in, make it your own. You sway closer, undulating like kelp, half-dizzy with it, and then you sway closer still.

He waits for you.

(He always has.)

When you kiss him, it’s simple. It feels right.

Kita sighs into it, one big hand coming up to cup your face, his rough palm reverent against your skin. There’s no urgency to him; he’s honey-slow with it, melting into you under the cover of night.

You kiss him again, and again, like the tide against the shore, lapping at the edges of him until you’re etched into his skin. He meets you each time, sweet and steady.

You kiss him until he is all you know, and then you kiss him once more.

You don’t even realize that you’re crying until he sweeps his thumb over your cheekbone.

You part your lips, and he presses a little kiss against them before he pulls back. In the dim, his amber eyes have gone whiskey-dark, deep and heady.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You don’t have to explain.”

You press your face into the warm crook of his neck again. He smells of plain soap and a lingering hint of citronella from the fields, sweet and stinging. You breathe him in, let the scent of him settle into you, a part of him to carry always.

Kita curls a gentle arm around you.

“Go to sleep,” he breathes, and you pull back to look at him. He watches you, his vulpine eyes unbearably fond, and he smiles against your lips when you kiss him again.

He cups your cheek and pulls you into a deeper kiss before he backs away. He sweeps his lips against yours in a chaste peck and says again, “Go to sleep.”

“Fine,” you murmur. You curl up into him as his breath starts to even out. You listen to the tide of it, the ebb and flow, a balm against a bruise you’ll always have, and close your eyes knowing that he’s right there.

You wake to the quiet beep of his alarm clock. He rises from bed with quicksilver ease, the thick muscles of his back rippling under his sleep shirt. It’s barely dawn; wan light filters in through the curtains like an azure sea, outlining him faintly as he moves around the room. He looks like something out of a painting, sketched out in broad strokes of soft shadows.

He looks too good to be true.

“Go back to sleep,” he murmurs as you shift on the futon. His sheets are well-worn, the type of broken in that comes with years of use and careful care. “It’s early.”

Instead, you get up with him, slipping out from beneath the warmth of the comforter with a soft sigh. Kita gives you a little smile, a crescent moon tilt of his lips, and your cheeks heat. You glance away and hear him huff out a laugh.

He disappears into the bathroom, and you make up the futon, smoothing your hands over the wrinkles until they disappear.

By the time he pads into the kitchen, the old coffeemaker is hissing and gurgling, spitting out a steady drip of liquid. He brushes by you to get a mug, his hand warm on your lower back as he sidles past. The heat of him lingers.

The two of you eat breakfast in a comfortable silence. He slides his portion of your favorite onto your plate without a word; you push your share of pickled daikon into one of his small kobachi dishes. He says nothing,, but his lips quirk at the edges, the faintest hint of a sweet smile.

He gets up when you’re both finished, pushing to his feet in one fluid movement. His muscles coil with it, going taut beneath his tanned skin. It’s more distracting than you thought it would be.

You peer at him from the corner of your eyes as he starts to clear the table. He moves with careful intent, his big hands steady against the delicate porcelain.

You want to kiss him again.

Instead, you get to your feet and finish clearing the table, handing him dishes when he gestures for them. You wash the dishes together. Over the whisper of the running water, you talk about your upcoming day, trying to decide if you’ll be able to eat lunch together as well. You can’t quite keep the smile from your lips.

When the dishes are put away, you walk with him onto the engawa. He cups your cheek, sweeping his thumb over the arch of your cheekbone, and smiles.

“I’ll see you soon,” he says.

“I’ll be here,” you say, soft and full of promise, and his eyes crinkle with his smile.

You watch from the engawa as he disappears into the distance, into the paddies, swallowed up by the verdant world he’s created with his own hands. He glances back at you once, just before he disappears from sight.

You raise your face to the gentle warmth of the rising sun.

It’s a new day.

#kita x reader #kita shinsuke x reader #hq!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #bee writes hq!!#.lbgtm

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rafecameronsslxt · 2 years ago

Text

Hooked

Warnings: Toxic Relationship, jumping Pope, and Violence.

Synopsis:Rafe and Topper jump Pope, acting like nothing happened until Pope gets his revenge. Adriana goes to the beach for a break and JJ finds her, letting the words overflow, but the annual movie night becomes a complete disaster, filled with fire and hurt.

Rafe Cameron x OC

Part 3 of series. (Can be read as stand alone)

Part ONE- Part TWO- Part FOUR- Part FIVE- Part SIX- Part SEVEN

Masterlist

I watch as my own boyfriend and brother jump my best friend. After they’re done beating Pope up, I run to his side with tears in my eyes. My knees slide against the sand. “Oh, my god. Pope, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” I repeatedly say it until Toppers' hands grab my shoulders to get me up. Pope has blood in his mouth, covering the left side of his teeth. I feel Pope grab my hand and squeeze it before Topper drags me away.

The whole walk home, Rafe’s hand resides gripping my lower back. While he and Top casually talk like they didn’t just jump someone, I try to pry his hand off me, but I physically can’t. His grasp makes me think by the time we arrive home; my side will be completely red, maybe a little bruise. I see the glint of my pink golf club in Topper's hand, along with his club. I look down at my knees, scraped up and filthy, covered with sand.

Finally, we make it to Rafe’s house.

Rafe lets Topper go into the house and pulls me aside. “I’m sorry.” Rafe puts his hand on my cheek. “You’re always fucking sorry, Rafe. ALWAYS.” I start hitting his chest forcefully while tears freefall. He tries to grab my wrists, but I escape quickly and slap him across the face. I pause and look up at Rafe's towering body over mine. His cheek is red, and Rafe’s face shows no emotion. Rafe scoffs while shaking his head. I don’t say anything but look down at the gravel.

We stand there in silence until the front door opens. I quickly wipe my tears away, hoping my makeup will hold up. Rafe’s thumbs pat my cheeks, and he nods at me; he turns around, slinging his arm over my shoulder, and we plaster smiles on our faces. “Ward?” I say, surprised. “Dad!?”

“Hey, Adriana. Wow, what- um, happened to your knees?” Ward asks with a concerned look and comes up and kisses my head. Ward had been like a second father to me until he started getting physical with Rafe. “Ad and Top had been playing around while we were golfing, and she slid across the sand,” Rafe answered for me, and Ward seemed to believe because why wouldn’t he? Ward nodded, telling us he needed to go out.

Rafe and me watch Ward leave in his truck, and I throw Rafe’s arm off of me. “I’m going home. I don’t want you or Top to message me or come over to my house or anything. Leave. Me. Alone.” I state clearly, not missing a single syllable. I walk away, not waiting for a response back.

Things go wrong every day for me. It’s either Rafe and Topper or something with the pogues. It’s hard to try and act ok when your boyfriend is becoming unhinged and a million other things on top of that.

I pace quickly around my bedroom, clean and in changed clothes. We were having such a good day. I look at my lower back in the mirror; it’s still all red and hurting. There are hickeys all over my neck and breasts from this morning and the night before. I lightly trail my fingers over my neck, missing the way Rafe’s soft red lips feel against my skin.

I arrive at the Cut, the only place I can escape Rafe. I step into the sand feeling better and hold my surfboard to my side, looking at all the waves. I look down at the bracelets on each side of my wrist. I had one for Rafe and my pogue friends. Kie, JJ, Pope, and John B.

I stop reminiscing and start surfing—the calming noise of the waves crashing together and the wind breezing ever so lightly now and again. It had been peaceful. I can’t hear anything else besides nature overtaking me in its glory. I feel unstoppable.

Something touches me, and I fall off the surfboard into the water– wrong timing. Good thing I hadn’t been too far away from shore, or I’m sure I’d be dead right now. I wash up on shore, feeling sore.

JJ stands over me while white splotches go in and out of my peripheral vision. “Jesus, are you ok?” I sit up. My first time surfing JJ pushed me off my board since the pogues had taught me and to say the least I was mad at JJ for a while after that.

“Not the first time you’ve let the sea undertake me.” I laugh a little but hiss in pain. “Good day?” JJ questions me, most likely seeing all the hickeys Rafe had made on me. I look up at him and shake my head. “It’s been far from a good day,” I said, sighing. JJ puts his hand out for me. I take it, and he pulls me up. “Wanna talk about it?”

Within a second, I started spilling everything to JJ. The night at the party, the following morning (without details), and the golfing trip. “Pope told me he wasn’t mad at you. I mean, he was- you know how Pope is, Adriana, but it’s fine because he got his revenge.” JJ smiles out at the ocean. “What!?” I say aloud. Revenge? “Nothing, nothing.” He waves me off, changing the subject. We talked for over an hour about random topics, and the sun had started setting.

I look up into the orange and pinkish sky. The perfect view of the sun setting, which glares off the ocean like a painting. “You ready to leave?” I nod my head standing up. “See you at the annual movie night?” JJ questions me with a grin. “Obviously, I’ll be sitting with you guys.” I let out a breathy laugh. JJ and me wave to each other, and I get into my jeep driving away from the cut.

I make it to my house and jog upstairs to my bedroom, needing to get changed for the third time today. I turn my bedroom light on and see Rafe lying on my bed. I shriek and drop my things onto the floor. I pick them back up.

“I told you specifically not to bother me today.” I throw my purse onto my desk. Rafe doesn’t answer me but watches my every move while I walk around my room.

Finally, I wander to the right side of my bed and tell him to get up. “Baby, can you just come here?” He pats his stomach, and I give in too easily, making my way on top of him. Now I sit on top of the guy that I should’ve kicked out a while ago.

This was the problem with Rafe and me; even in fights, I saw him every day. It didn’t matter if he just beat up my best friend. I would always go back to him, and he’ll always come back to me, but I wish we hadn’t been like this because it hurts.

After arguments, I paced around my room, bit my nails and missed him, and it hadn’t even hit an hour. We’re so dependent on each other that I couldn’t imagine a life without him. I think I’d kill for Rafe.

“Are you going to the annual movie night?” Rafe questions, and I feel his hands run all over my body. I nod my head. “Rafe, I think it’s time for you to go,” I tell Rafe, yet I don’t get off of him. Instead, he pulls me down to his chest, and I lay my head down on him. “Do you remember when we first had sex?” His hand rubs my cheek gently. “Yes, but why does that matter right now? I mean seriously.” I sigh. “Ninth grade, we had waited the whole day just for the night to come and for you to sneak in. In that moment, It felt like I was on cloud nine. Adriana Albright sneaking into my room!? I hadn’t thought that was going to be the night.” I let out a laugh.

I picked up a random rock and threw it at my newly boyfriends' balcony door. I saw Rafe and smiled at him. I had been biting my nails all day till they got down to the ends. He gives me a thumbs-up and runs back into his room.

The front door opens up, and I see him. The moon glares off our faces, the only thing making light for us. The sky had been bright and starry. The stars shined more luminous than ever that night. “Come on.” Rafe takes my hand, quietly leading us upstairs until we hear a creak and stop in our tracks. “Shhh,” I say, putting my index finger over my lips and get in front of him, then looking into the hallway from behind the wall. I nod my head, and we keep walking to his room.

We finally make it, and he shuts his door quickly. “So, Adriana Albright, what shall we take pleasure in today. Smoke, watch a movie?” I look at Rafe sitting against his desk. I bite my lip and look at him seductively.

“You were bold for initiating the first move, especially for being a virgin. You’d actually been somewhat of a bad girl back then. Now you’re my good perfect girl. A woman, most men, would kill to have, but you went to me.” I move my head to look up at Rafe, and he runs his thumb over my bottom lip.

Young Adriana had thought of this a million times that day. That night had been one to remember for both of them. But, despite her first time being on a desk, and most would think it hadn’t been as memorable, it was, and then it was set.

It was officially Rafe Cameron and Ariana Albright against the world. No ONE would become in between them.

“That night was when we both agreed it was us against everyone. We didn’t have to say it. We just knew.”

“And then we got caught– red-handed.” Rafe chuckles. “God, I got grounded for a week, and our parents had to talk to each other about it the next day. It was so embarrassing. After that, I couldn’t look at your dad for long.” Rafe leans down and gives me an open kiss. He doesn’t push it. His fingers slowly run up and down my palm, hovering.

Rafe’s door abruptly opens with no knock. “Oh my god!” Ward expresses in shock, shutting Rafe’s bedroom door. Rafe quickly throws his shorts on, and I fall onto the floor, trying to get mine on. Rafe burst out laughing. I kick his ankle, making him fall with me, and then I start laughing while I zip up my shorts, toss Rafe his shirt, and throw mine on. Rafe stands up. We look at each other sweaty and embarrassed but almost dying of laughter.

“Are you guys decent?” Ward inquiries suspiciously. We open the door together. “I’m sorry, Ward.” I didn’t exactly know what I was saying sorry for, but I did. He nods his head and looks between Rafe and me. Ward inhales and exhales. “Ok, children, let’s just– Adriana, I’ll take you home, and I’ll have a talk with your parents tomorrow. Rafe, you’re grounded.” Ward states firmly. We nod our heads and look at each other again. I put my hand over my mouth, and Rafe starts giggling. I wave bye to Rafe as Ward takes me in his truck and starts driving to my house.

Rafe sits us up against the headboard. “I just want you to know you will not be happy with me after tonight, but midsummers are tomorrow, and I still very much would hope for you to go with me.” My phone starts going off, and it’s JJ calling me. “Hello.”

“Where are you twenty minutes before the movie starts. Ad, I swear if you're with him after everything he’s done the past few days.” I sigh, looking at Rafe as he smiles. “Hey, Maybank-” Before he does any more damage, I cut Rafe off and cover his mouth. “Yes, JJ, I’m coming as we speak. Bye, love you.” I run my hands through my hair. “I love you too, Ad.” JJ hangs up, and I look at Rafe and get off of him. “Oh, that's what you’re doing now. Acting like you hate me after all of this, knowing tomorrow you’ll be at my side at midsummers. Mine, Adriana, not JJ’s!” Rafe yells at me, getting up from the bed. “Is that jealous, Rafe Cameron, I’m hearing?”

He scoffs. “Me? Jealous of JJ fucking Maybank- No.” He shakes his head that I’d even make such an accusation.

I say fuck it and kiss Rafe. Instead of being anxious all night, I’d end this on something good. We kiss each other with the right amount of everything. It was chaste and a longing kiss, like maybe there wouldn’t be another tomorrow. He lays his forehead on mine. “Adriana, despite everything, I love you. It’s us against the world.” I press my nose against his and kiss him again.

“Rafe, I love you too. It’s us against the world.” I interlace my hands with his. He looks at me with only love. How do I react when he’s going to do something terrible, and I know he’s going to?

I make it to the annual movie night ten minutes before the movie starts. Kie spots me and smiles. I sit beside her. “Not with lover boy?” She says teasingly, hitting my shoulder with hers. I shake my head, kicking her foot, look over at Pope, and fold my arms nervously. I hadn’t talked to him about what had happened, and I was scared of his response. Would it be terrible or good? “Hey, Ad, it’s not your fault,” Pope says reassuringly, but I still have guilt. He holds his hand out, and I take it. We both lock our hands together tightly and smile at each other. I start giggling, and Pope lets go of my hand.

“You guys must be a package deal, never without one another,” JJ says thoughtfully, looking over Pope’s shoulder and making us all turn our heads. Rafe, Topper, and Kelce look very threatening toward Pope and JJ. We all look away in sync. Kiara darts her eyes at JJ and Pope. “What did you guys do?” I question skeptically, looking at JJ in general. “Pope just got his revenge is what happened,” JJ says and raises his hands up in the air. “What does that even mean!?” Kie throws her hands out, confused about what they’d done.

The movie finally starts, and I sneak a look at the guys to find them sitting there, not looking like the happiest audience. I turn around slowly, fixing the hat I looted from Rafe. I take it off for a second to get my hair out of my face and then put it on backwards.

I then start to hear whispers. I look past Kie’s body and see JJ and Pope quietly talking and hitting each other's chest about something.

JJ announces he and Pope are going to the bathroom. Kie and me looked at them as if they were people we didn’t know. Pope pushes JJ, getting him to move faster. “What’s up with them?” Kiara asks me. “I don’t know. They won't tell me.” I run my hands down my face and pinch the bridge of my nose in anger. Why do things always have to happen? It couldn’t just be a regular night.

A couple of minutes pass, and Kiara and me get worried.

So we took a hike to where the two boys had gone and quickly heard the sounds of people getting hurt.

I blacked out during the rest and got pushed to the ground along with Kie, but Topper hadn’t thrown me. Rafe did. “Ad- Adriana. Do you have a lighter?” Kie pushes my shoulder, and I look at her for a second. Kiara hits my face, slightly stinging, and I grab a lighter out of my pocket and throw it to her.

The only reason I started carrying a lighter in my pocket was because John B never had one to start a fire wasting the gasoline and night to leave just the stars and friends inside his house.

Kiara sets the projector on fire. After that, the mass of people who were watching started screaming and leaving rather slowly. Topper and Kelce get moving, but Rafe looks at me. I won’t spare him a glance or a look.

“Come on, pretty girl,” JJ says, coughing while holding out his hand. I don’t take his hand but instead, pull myself up. JJ nods, confused but doesn’t question me. He throws his arm around my shoulder stabilizing himself, and he starts breathing heavily. “Not so bad pretty boy.” I look up at JJ and smile. He’s got a couple of cuts on his face, but nothing I couldn’t manage. He laughs, and we start trying to catch up with Kie and Pope.

#rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron angst #outer banks fanfiction #rafe obx #rafe fanfiction #Angst #rafe cameron x oc #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron imagine

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beyoursbb · 2 years ago

Text

€uro Tra$h Series: Dipped in $ugar (Part 2)

Pairing: Billy Butcher x You (Reader) || Rating: Explicit || Word Count: 3.3k || Link to Part 1 and Link to Part 3 - final (Timeline for this work is Season 1 btw)

Summary: Billy comes back from work with The Boys. He can't say what he was up to, but makes sure your wait for him is worth it.

Author’s Note: Really happy to post this sequel as I appreciated the love and feedback Part 1 got. Would like to know how this work compares to Part 1 (I feel like I let this one go more lol, tried to make the smut a little hotter, and be intentional with pacing the story) and hear any writing advice in general. I’m excited and enjoying getting back into it!

Warnings: same as before — sugar daddy / daddy kink (use of the name daddy 2 times), age gap (implied, not specified), swearing, protected p in v, tiny bit of choking and degrading reader

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

You woke up startled. The sound of several deep, booming male voices arguing outside the room reverberated through the door. You hardly had time to blink the sleepiness out of your eyes before the latch unlocked and Billy came striding in followed noisily by three other men all talking at once. You lifted your head and instinctively covered your arms around your frontside even though you were completely clothed.

“Jesus, fuck!” one of the men exclaimed, just as startled. “Butcher, who the hell—”

The sound of a heavy, blunt metal object clattering onto the table cut off the question and made you flinch as Billy stared at your rigid figure laying on the bed.

“ ‘m sorry, sweetheart, thought you would’ve left by now,” he said.

Your eyes flitted between him, the group of strangers frozen in place on the motel’s sage green carpet, and the large semi-automatic rifle laying next to your half eaten dinner. You forced yourself to take a shaky breath as you noticed Butcher’s battered physique — in fact — you realized all of them were in pretty bad shape: clothes tattered, arms cut and bruised, faces caked in sweat, grime, and dried blood. Each had at least one handgun tucked into the waistband of his pants.

“I’m going to get us another room,” the tall, skinny man announced awkwardly. “Come with me, Frenchie.” The shortest man nodded, took a moment to shift his gaze between you and Billy, then back to meet your eyes in a gentle glance as if he wanted to say something, but instead, he darted out quickly.

“Un-fucking-believable. This where you been fucking off to, Butcher?” the man who was left asked, glaring at Billy. “How fucking old is she, by the way?”

“She’s a fucking consenting adult so mind your fucking business,” Billy shot back.

“I would, if your business, like maybe the fucking plan tonight, didn’t always end up fucked up.”

Billy had been staring off at the far end of the room, but now turned toward his associate. He took one, slow, menacing step forward, squaring up chest to chest with the man, who was honestly built like a truck. Billy was obviously huge, but this guy’s biceps alone were bigger than your head. Billy’s gray eyes were piercing and stone cold, which you’d never seen before. They never broke contact with the pair of brown eyes across from him. You held your breath waiting for the first swing that never came.

Billy’s voice was low and sounded angry, yet also eerily calm when he spoke.

“You lot are the ones who called me for help. The fucking plan tonight was me doing my fucking best to clean up your mess. So I can fuck off where ever I want with whoever I want because I’m not the one who needs a fucking babysitter. Next time you get in trouble when you go off on your own, MM, call Janine’s nanny.”

The man’s jaw was clenched so tight as he glared at Billy, you thought it would pop. After the longest silent minute you ever had to sit through passed, he shook his head, turning to you. “I’m sorry we scared you. I’m just pissed at this asshole.” With a final angry scowl thrown in Billy’s direction, the last mystery guy pivoted to exit.

As abruptly as the room had been filled, it had emptied. The distance between Billy and you felt like miles in that small, cramped room, alone. You checked the time on the digital clock on the nightstand and did the mental math of how many hours you’d been asleep. You didn’t even remember falling asleep, but from your estimate, you calculated Billy had been gone for five hours. Whether you wanted to find out what happened in those five hours, you weren't sure.

You didn’t move a muscle, and neither did he as he sat against the table, arms crossed over his chest with one hand holding his bearded chin. His body was tense, his face hardened and unreadable. His eyes stared out in front of him, deep in thought. The silence hung heavy like the humid summer air in a New York City alleyway.

You felt confused, but mostly scared. Your heart was pounding in your ears from shock, your breathing was shallow and uneven as if you were recovering from a run, and the tension held throughout your body, culminating in your chest, was almost painful. Yet you couldn’t tell if you were scared of him or for him. It leaned toward the latter.

“That was work?” Your voice came out smaller than you wanted.

Billy straightened up slowly, making eye contact with you for the first time since he’d returned.

“ ‘Fraid so, luv.”

That already sounded like the end of the conversation.

Billy moved to sit at the foot of the bed and started undressing, kicking off his shoes first. You scooted up so you were sitting against the pillows again and hugged your knees into your chest. It was cold because the air conditioning had been running when you accidentally fell asleep, but you didn’t want to get under the covers in case that crossed a line.

You didn’t normally stay the night and sleep with Billy; actually, it had only happened once, when he hit you up on such a whim, you both arrived at the hotel at the same time. The front desk staff only gave a couple weird looks when you two checked in, but Billy being his usual, completely unfazed self helped you ignore any awkwardness you felt. He had appeared a bit disheveled that night, but it was nothing compared to how he seemed right now. You didn’t even have sex; all he did was sleep next to you, one arm wrapped around your waist. He stirred slightly every time you reached for the TV remote or shifted to a more comfortable position, but in the morning when he unceremoniously handed you your payment, he mentioned it was the best sleep he’d gotten in a long while.

“How’d you get here?” Billy asked as he took the hem of his shirt and yanked it over his head.

Your voice was a little stronger, but still quiet. “I drove.”

He nodded absentmindedly. “Offer still stands. You don’t needa stay.”

“It’s okay. It’s late. I’d rather not drive at this time.”

He stood to remove his jeans.

“Unless you rather I go,” you added, quickly. Maybe he wanted to be alone after whatever the hell he went through with his coworkers.

“Don’t matter to me,” he replied plainly, shrugging and bending his arms at the elbow, palms facing up as he walked to the bathroom.

This time, Billy stayed in there longer, which made you feel like the amount of time spent waiting with your fifty burning questions you assumed he wouldn’t answer anyways was more than twenty minutes. He went straight for the bed when he came out and untucked the covers on his side to crawl under right next to you. The mattress springs creaked under his weight as he sank in slowly on his back, trying not to wince. After his second shower of the night, he had patched himself up with several bandaids and medical tape wrapped around a couple fingers and his left wrist.

Before you had the chance to stand and wash up in the bathroom yourself, Billy rested his hand against your thigh down by your knee. You immediately relaxed the muscles you didn’t notice were still tense.

“I know you probably have a million questions. I can’t answer ‘em.”

You looked at him understandingly, as if it was totally acceptable to be kept in the dark in regards to the whereabouts of a man whose BFG-50 was still pointing in your general direction, but at least he was straightforward.

“You were never meant to know,” he added.

Now that made you furrow your brows. Know what? You literally didn’t know anything about his life because he’s never told you anything. You and Billy were not close. Your irregular meetings meant you didn’t have a connection built with him like you did with other sugar daddies you saw frequently. Sure, you were madly attracted to him, borderline obsessed, but you were far from friends sharing secrets. The nature of your arrangement was always business, and said business was the epitome of “get that bread, get that head, then leave.” It was work you enjoyed, but the opportunity for meaningful conversation was severely limited.

Billy’s hand slid up your leg and you stiffened again. He slowed, but kept traveling up past your hip to the middle of your back, turning his body onto his side closer to you, his other hand wrapping around your stomach, until you realized he was simply pulling you into a hug. You tucked yourself under his bearded chin and inhaled his scent off his bare chest, his fuzzy hairs tickling your nose.

Now that his adrenaline levels were down, his naturally rough voice was a tad softer. “You shouldn’t be scared of me.”

He spoke in a way that made you think he was not saying to stop your emotions, but externally processing the full realization of how the guys’ surprise entrance and his argument with his buddy affected you.

“Not scared of you,” you explained. “I was concerned for you.”

Billy’s chest rumbled with a chuckle. “Earlier you thought MM might’ve killed me right then and there? Not a chance, darlin’.”

You shook your head. Being witness to angry men sizing each other up can be terrifying, yes, but you hesitated telling him the truth about how you were still unsettled by their bounty-hunters-who-got-badly-beat look.

“You're stiff as a board, luv,” he commented, gently separating you both and bringing one hand to lift your chin to look at him. It was true, you still hadn’t fully relaxed at any point since he’d been back.

Except at this moment — when his lips connected to yours. And you melted.

It was probably the most tender kiss Billy had ever given you, but it didn’t stay that way for long. His tongue started it first, slowly going deeper into your mouth every time he took a breath, but it was your hands that gripped him tighter until your legs became tangled and your hips grinded together. You loved a makeout session that forced you to lose all your senses to where you could only handle hearing, taste, and touch. With your eyes closed, your sight disappears, and since your nose has to concentrate on helping your lungs obtain oxygen, you’re not really focused on smelling. But the sound, taste, and feeling of Billy in your arms is enough to overwhelm you. The longer you go at it, the heavier both of your breathing becomes, interspersed with short gasps and moans, the sloppier your taste buds get in exploring every centimeter of the other’s mouth, and the more desperate your hands are to tug, squeeze, and mold to the shape of your partner’s best assets.

You didn’t usually take your time kissing either, maybe because you typically met on a time crunch, or you were just extremely horny around each other, so you tended to skip to the main event pretty quickly. But you got the sense that because of the night’s earlier situation, Billy wanted to slow down to make sure your head was in an okay space before proceeding, or not. You appreciated that; it was a gentlemanly move. You made sure he knew you were ready for more by rolling on top of him, straddling his hips, and grinding down against his hardening cock, all while keeping your fingers interlocked behind his neck and your lips mashed onto his. Billy responded eagerly, his fingertips gliding across the soft, smooth skin of your back, and creeping underneath your shirt to unhook your bra. He didn’t even bother to remove any of your top layers before feeling up your chest. You refrained from any wanton noises while he kneaded your breasts, but you did bite his lower lip a little extra hard when he teased your nipples.

When you finally separated, the shift of your bodies made you well aware of the wetness in your underwear, and you were practically panting, your hands still roaming his torso because they couldn't decide whether to grip his muscular back, shoulders, or arms.

“The other offer from earlier,” Billy said, his hands sliding down to your ass, giving it a squeeze, “also still stands.”

Catching your breath, you were so nervous of sounding utterly gone already without even being naked, all you could do was nod.

“That a yes? Want me to fuck you ‘til you’re screaming my name, princess?”

“God yes,” you almost moaned. “Please, Daddy.”

You were pretty sure he could hear the urgency in your voice, but you made it crystal clear how badly you needed him by cupping the imprint of his dick through his boxers. Billy grunted in response, and in less than two seconds, he flipped you both over and discarded your leggings and panties carelessly out of the way. Now you were both playing with each other — you stroking his length while any number of his fingers rubbed your clit and teased your folds.

“It’s more than wet down here, luv; you’re soaked,” he chuckled against your neck, his hot breath hitting your ear.

It made you shiver, but at the same time, you were burning up, so you whipped off your shirt and bra. He wasted no time diving in to suck one of your nipples to a hardened peak. When he did the same to its twin, you finally gave in to the loud moan that had been gathering in your throat. Billy released his mouth with a pop and gazed down at you.

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” he said, his eyes hungrily raking over your nude figure before he stood to finally take off his one article of clothing and retrieve a condom.

“That cock block of a call was bloody inconvenient,” Billy muttered as he rolled on the latex and lined himself up to your entrance. “Can’t wait to feel this sweet fucking pussy.”

His last word was punctuated by him sliding in fast and deep. Even though you watched him disappear inside you, you were still caught by surprise, evident in your eyes rolling back into your skull while your mouth formed a silent “O.”

Billy was so goddamn huge and he knew it.

“Somethin’ tells me your other daddies ain’t cuttin’ it,” he smirked. He didn’t give you any time to adjust, just grabbed your hips and set the tenacious tempo he wanted.

“They don’t fuck me like this,” you admitted through heavy breaths, reaching to bring him closer. Your hands settled on his lower back and he leaned forward, his arms moving to either side of your head to prop himself up above you.

“Like what?”

You knew what he wanted you to say. Like I’m a slut. But you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction so soon, even if it was true and you loved it. Your ability to form a coherent response was waning rapidly from his hips pounding into you anyways. The rhythmic slapping of his skin against yours made your brain go numb.

“Like what, darlin’?” Billy repeated. His right thumb swiped against your lower lip, ready to press into your mouth, while he pulled out and stopped, barely leaving his tip in you. The sudden emptiness brought you out of your daze. You opened your half lidded eyes to find his dark pupils peering down at you.

“Like—like you use me.”

“‘Course I do; what else are ya for?” he snarled.

His hand trailed down, fingers surrounding your neck, squeezing it just enough to hold you down to resume his relentless pace, sinking in deeper and deeper with every thrust.

All your sugar daddies “used” you so to speak, and you obviously used them for money. But with Billy, it never felt like you were fulfilling an obligation to the bit. It was almost natural to sink into the mindset of being nothing but a tool for his pleasure. It was easy because there was something so, so hot about laying spread open for him, allowing him to fuck you any way he wanted, and not caring how rough he was. Knowing you would be left to find bruises and deal with sore legs for the next few days after taking his cock excited you in the most feral, animalistic way.

You let your body go limp and closed your eyes to focus on the sensation of Billy’s dick continuing to stretch you out while he growled more filth disguised as praise in your ear. You were so distracted by his voice urging you to be a good little slut and let your wet cunt come all over his cock because you sounded so pretty moaning his name, you didn’t notice him lick two of his fingers and send them down between your bodies. If you weren't already laying down, the zap of pleasure that shot straight through your stomach from him circling your clit would have made your knees buckle. You were almost embarrassed at how fast your pussy clenched, though you knew it was just a compliment to Billy.

“Don’t be shy, luv,” he chided, as if he was reading your mind.

You gasped as your climax continued to build with each delicious stroke of his hips. The friction was like fire against your nerves, so close to setting your whole body ablaze. Billy was breathing hard now too, sweat beading at his brow. The thumping of the bed against the wall had long been ignored, but now was completely drowned out by Billy’s grunts and groans of how good you felt around him.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. Like your cunt was made to fit my cock.”

That elicited a loud, unrestrained moan from you. “Daddy,” you whimpered. It was futile to try to hold out longer. Your body craved release. “I’m gona—fuck.”

Your body seized and your mind went blank as pure ecstasy washed over you. The chant of his name filled the space and you wrapped your legs around his waist, sending him impossibly deeper. Billy groaned feeling your pussy contract around him, his climax following close behind. With a last couple thrusts, he shuddered to a stop as he milked himself dry.

Chest to chest, with Billy’s head resting next to yours on the pillow, you slowly came down from your high, unintentionally clenching his softening length as your breathing steadied.

He gave your sweaty forehead a quick peck as he rose up, removing his hand from your throat. You had honestly forgotten it was there, so engrossed in how your lower half had been responding to him. Billy carefully slipped out of you and took care of the condom while you adjusted the bed sheets.

Then he approached you with his wallet and held out two bills. “For staying the night,” he offered.

You shook your head while waving them off with a flip of your hand, not even looking at the number on them. You hadn’t checked the original amount he left in the envelope on the nightstand, but you figured he probably already paid more than what would be equivalent to the actual amount of hours you spent interacting.

“Special deal; cuddles are free, tonight only,” you smiled softly.

Billy returned a small, amused smile. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Oh, I’m very comfortable,” you sighed, opening up the blankets to let him under, and settling into the crook of his arm.

“Good, darlin’,” he replied with a yawn, his warm body pressed against yours, lulling you to sleep.

#billy butcher #billy butcher smut #billy butcher x you #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher fanfic #the boys #the boys fanfic #the boys smut #the boys tv #amazon the boys #karl urban #beyoursbbfic

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myveryownfanfiction · 1 year ago

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18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO

tags: @illiana-mystery

warnings: swearing, smut, public sex (sort of), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids)

AN: so this is slightly self indulgent mainly cuz I’m good with cars. So reader is short and isn’t afraid of getting down and dirty in an engine.

“Ow! Fuck!” I looked over at jake as he stood up. I raised an eyebrow at him as he inspected his finger before bending back over the engine of the pickup truck. “Damn truck.”

“everything ok over there jake?” I asked. He stood up quickly, hitting his head on the hood of the truck.

“Shit!” Jake hissed. “No. Everything is not ok. This damn truck won’t start and I can’t figure out what’s wrong with it.” He rubbed the top of his head and I walked over to look at his hand.

“I’ll say. You keep getting hurt.” I teased. Jake grumbled as I rubbed his finger to dispel some of the pain. “What exactly is wrong with it?”

“won’t start.” He grumbled again. I rolled my eyes as I climbed on the tire to look into the engine.

“yeah I gathered that.” I mumbled. “Does it make any noise? Turn over? What?” Jake shrugged.

“I don’t know. Eve said it won’t start. That’s all I know.” Jake finally responded. I nodded and leaned further in. Reaching over, I looked at the fan belt. Jiggling it, I shook my head. Leaning back, I hopped off the tire.

“Get me a flashlight.” I ordered. Jake nodded and went to get one. “Shine it over there.” I pointed towards the spark plugs. Grabbing the tools I needed, I looked over at them and made sure they were plugged in. Wiping my brow, I frowned as I noticed the grease on my hands. “All good there.” I muttered. “Keys?” Jake passed them over and I got into the truck. I put the key in the ignition and turned it on. It clicked when I tried to turn it on. Nodding, I climbed back out.

“What? Why are you all smiles?” Jake asked.

“it’s either the alternator or the battery.” I said. “We can try to jump it off jenkins’ car and take it into town to get a new battery. If that doesn’t work, we need to call a tow.” I went to grab a towel to wipe off my hands. I passed it over to jake so he could do the same.

“or we could just call the tow either way and not mess this up.�� I nodded.

“could do that too.” I shrugged. Jake smiled at me. “Why are you all smiles now?” I asked. Jake walked over and leaned down to kiss me. I furrowed my eyebrows as he pulled away. “Uh ok.” I mumbled as he grabbed my hand and pulled me to the bed of the truck. Pulling down the tailgate, he helped me up before turning the lights off in the garage and outside. “Jake?” He climbed up next to me and kissed me again.

“I have this idea…” he whispered, hand playing with my zipper. His eyes searched mine and I giggled.

“I kind of like this idea…” I agreed as he undid my pants while kissing me again. “Under the stars too? You’re a charmer Jacob stone.” He hummed as he started to nip along my jawline.

“and you’re sexy. Grease and oil on your hands and face. Didn’t think I’d find it that attractive.” Jake chuckled as I went to take care of his pants. “Don’t think I can wait much longer darling.” He said as he positioned himself between my legs, pants pushed down to our ankles.

“then by all means.” I smiled at him. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he kissed me. Sliding home, he stilled with our hips pressed firmly together. Jake nuzzled into the side of my neck while I ran a hand through his hair. “Jake.” I whispered, making him pull back until he was nearly out before slamming back in. He repeated the movement a few times before starting to set a brutal pace.

“(Y/N).” He moaned above me. “I love you.” I moaned as he brushed against a spot that made me see stars.

“love you too.” I groaned. “Jake. Jake. Jake.” I chanted as my orgasm quickly washed over me. He leaned up to kiss me as his orgasm was trigger by my own.

“(Y/N).” He whispered as he did. Stilling, he leaned his forehead against mine. “We should have done this before.” He chuckled as he pulled out. Fixing our pants, jake sat back against the cab of the truck. He pulled me over and I curled up against him.

“we really should have.” I agreed as we looked up and out at the stars. “It’s a nice backdrop.” Jake chuckled before kissing my head.

“it really is.”

#jacob stone x reader #jacob stone #jacob stone imagine #jacob stone fanfic #jacob stone fanfiction #jake stone #jake stone fanfic #jake stone imagine #jake stone fanfiction #jake stone x reader #christian kane #christian kane x reader #christian kane imagine #christian kane fanfic #christian kane fanfiction

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augusteight2018 · 2 months ago

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Dear Kim Seon-Ho,

This morning, I wasn’t feeling well but decided to go to work anyway because I don’t have sick days. I did my best to pace myself and did the bare minimum just to make it through the whole day that seems to have somehow slowed down. At one point, I was so grateful to have made it to 2pm but then realized it was only 12:10 on the wall clock. IT came to “fix” my computer and it made me wonder if it was a gift from God. It took them a very long time and then I wonder if it was God actually telling me to just go home. Eventually, I did go home early and part of my body felt more sick for using my vacation time to be sick and leaving work early that isn’t 1 or 2 minutes.

The bus I wanted to take was so late. I was forced to go with plan B. On my route, I saw line of trucks as I’ve been seeing for a few days. The excitement grew inside of me but with traffic, I had to keep moving and was forced to accept that I might miss out on seeing a making of a movie. Where I ended up had more crowd and I’m thinking, it can’t be….

But it was, you. I quickly took out my phone to snap a picture of you. Thank you God, I said inside my head. How did my finally giving into being sick and missing the bus, have brought me within feet of this gorgeous actor? I don’t know, and I didn’t care. I was just so so happy. For the last couple of weeks, I’ve been re playing Hometown Cha Cha Cha and pointing out to my family, “that guy, he’s the one who is in our city, right now!”

There’s a Briget Jones Diary scene where she envisions herself getting married to her crush. It’s super creepy and if others do this with me, I would be so uncomfortable. However, I do this to almost every crushes I have since grade school. It’s twisted, the hypocrisy is irritating, I know.

When I first saw you, Kim Seon-Ho, I took my picture. I felt fortunate that you were looking in my direction and smiling. There was a crowd around you and I knew I wouldn’t get close, for several reasons: I didn’t have the energy, I wasn’t feeling well and you’re not even going to notice me.

I have an appearance of below average. Yet, part of my delulu was that you would tell your staff to go and get my contact information. But the other part of me quickly slapped the delulu out by reminding myself how I look like an actual homeless person.

But don’t feel bad for delulu because it has a strong spirit. Even now, hours after I left the spot, delulu still thinks that your staff is still trying to find me.

At the time, after snapping the one photo and taking a few moments to grasp the miracle I was witnessing, I started walking home. But then while waiting for the lights, I noticed you started walking too, toward the spot I was originally at when I took my picture. I now had a chance to take a better photo. I took 2. I went ahead and crossed the street and left. This was all in a span of ~3 minutes.

Of course, I’m kicking myself for not staying there longer. I’m kicking myself for not lingering and giving myself a bigger chance at connecting with my crush or even taking better pictures. But I wasn’t feeling well. It wouldn’t have been very nice to spread whatever I had.

However, my delulu still wonder what it would be like to hook up with a celebrity like you. But my no-nonsense-cruel-realistic-me would slam that dream down pretty fast.

Snapping back to reality:

First of all, I hate getting dolled up because I’m lazy and you probably want some perfect looking specimen. I don’t blame you, you’re a celeb, you have to look and act perfect so it would be hard not to have that same standard for your dates.

Secondly, I can barely manage my own single life let alone a regular couple life let alone a dating life with a celeb like you.

But my life is pretty sweet as it is and my worst critic is myself. I cannot imagine having the eyes of the whole world on me and everyone criticizing and hating every single thing about me just because I get to be around you.

I can handle being poor and a nobody but I don’t think I can handle the highs and lows of being with a celeb. Getting dropped might just be so painful to recover from.

Ha! You might just be delighted to not have met me after reading this lengthy letter but I think it’s a fair assessment of what it might be like. So, I will close this letter by thanking the universe and God for giving me that moment where I was a few feet away from you when you are normally across the world, instead. Thank you for taking on this role that got you filming at new locations, I can’t wait to see the final product. I hope you enjoyed your time here and I hope you will come back for more projects.

Sincerely,

Ps. You’re taller than I expected.

#kim seon ho #filming #delulu #miracle #sick day #bridget jones #my writing

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jazzystudios82 · 8 months ago

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His Lovely Rose - Chapter 3: A Super Saiyan God?

Previous. . . . Next Chapter. . . .

——————————————————————————

Location: Outer Space. . . .

“Hmm. . .I’ve forgotten again." Beerus muttered to himself. "Was it 'Super Seer God', or a 'Superior Sorrow Man God'? Wait, 'Supreme Soy-yan God', no that sounds stupid-” “Sounds like a grandiose, over-the-top name in any case.” Whis interrupted, slightly annoyed. Beerus had been thinking out loud for a while. “You can just use your power to find him for me, can’t you Whis?” Beerus asked. “Believe it or not my lord, but I do have my limits. I can’t find this needle of warrior in the haystack of a universe if you can’t even remember his name.” he answered.

“Well, you’re no fun." Beerus muttered. His stomach then growled, causing his attention to divert to something else. "All this racking around my brain has made me hungry, and now I want something sweet!”

“Be patient, my lord. You can eat as soon as we get home.” Whis told him. “I do seem to remember an exceptionally rare dessert waiting in the refrigerator.” This had captured Beerus’ attention. “Exceptionally rare? Are you sure about that, Whis?” he questioned. “Because if you’re wrong. . .” “Rest assured my lord, it is there.” Whis said. "After all, I was there when Kero bought them at that lovely little food market on Planet Caspian." “Alright. Hey Whis, I’ve been meaning to ask you, is this really the fastest that you can go?” Beerus questioned.

This made Whis’ usual smile go away, and the bright light surrounding them went away, leaving them in the vastness of space.

“I’ll have you know that I’m the fastest being in this whole universe, Lord Beerus.” he said. “Really, is that right? Sorry, my mistake. I suppose I should be impressed then.” Beerus apologized. Whis nodded and the light returned. “It’s just that Brier’s portals can do the job much faster.” Whis heard Beerus mumble.

“Now you see here, my lord, I-” “Alright! I get it! I don’t want to get into an argument with you right now, Whis. How about we agree that both you and Brier are the fastest beings in the entire Seventh Universe. Got it?” Beerus suggested, hoping that the angel would agree to it.

“. . .Yes, alright. I also don’t want to get into another argument with you.”

Location: The Sacred World of the Kais. . . .

Elder Kai was overcome with extreme worry. After feeling the recent destruction of a planet, he had gotten out of his chair and had been pacing back and forth, which worried Kibito Kai.

“What’s wrong, Ancestor?” Kibito Kai asked. “It seems Beerus the Destroyer has already claimed another planet,” Elder Kai answered.

‘I haven’t seen him like this since the destructive rampage of Majin Buu. Is this latest awakening of Beerus really so ominous?’ Kibito Kai wondered as he stood up from his seat and walked towards his elder.

“There are beings like us that exist to create and protect life in this universe. But the opposite is also true. Some deities also exist to end life. Beerus the Destroyer, is such a being.” Elder Kai explained. “Yes, I’m well aware of that, but as detestable as that is to us, there is a reason for his destructive ways.” Kibito Kai said.

“No. There is no reason at all. The inevitability for his existence does not give meaning at all. Beerus acts only on his own whims. He is nothing but bottled chaos, and we must make sure that no one shakes that bottle up.” Elder Kai told him. “The last thing that we need is some battle loving warrior to challenge Lord Beerus to a fight and win, therefore shaking him up to a destructive frenzy.”

“You say that as if you have someone specific in mind.” Kibito Kai said to him, following Elder Kai on his walk. Realization hits him like a truck. “!. . .Wait, you mean Goku!”

“Of course I do! That punch-happy moron will try to fight Beerus just for fun, which is why we can’t let him know that he exists!” Elder Kai exclaimed. “Well, that shouldn’t be too hard since Lord Beerus’ energy can only be sensed by other deities. And since Goku is back on Earth, he’s practically on the other side of the universe from Beerus. So there’s almost zero chance of the two ever meeting.” Kibito Kai said, still feeling a little hopeful.

“Well I hope you’re right,” Elder Kai said.

'Sorry to interrupt you.' a voice said in their heads. "?" Elder Kai and Kibito Kai both waited to see who was speaking with them. 'It's King Kai, my lords. I didn't mean to eavesdrop on your conversation, but I thought that I should let you two know about something important.' King Kai said. "And that is?" Elder Kai asked. 'You see. . .it's about Goku. He's currently training at my place.' King Kai revealed.

"What?! Goku's there?!" Kibito Kai nearly exclaimed. "When did that happen?!" "Hmm. . .so I take it that you too have noticed that Lord Beerus is awake?" Elder Kai questioned. 'I did. Although he woke up earlier than expected this time. But then again, he probably missed seeing Lady Brier, so I guess it's not that surprising.' King Kai said.

This caused Kibito Kai to become confused. Who's Lady Brier? And why would someone like Beerus miss her? Was she important? "In any case, you mustn't tell him!" Elder Kai nearly shouted, bringing Kibito Kai back to reality.

'Of course not. I won't tell him a thing!' King Kai promised.

'. . .Won't tell me what? What exactly are you saying about me, King Kai?' a new, and unfortunately all too familiar, voice asked.

' AHHH!'

Before Elder Kai or Kibito Kai could ask any follow ups, the psychic call ended.

"Elder. . .you don't think that that was Goku. . .right?" Kibito Kai asked nervously. "I'm afraid so." Elder Kai said. "Let's just hope that King Kai was able to come up with something to keep that fighting obsessed lunatic from finding out anything."

Location: Beerus' Planet. . . .

"Lord Beerus, we've arrived." Whis announced. The two of them had ended up at the front entrance of their home. "Home at last!" Beerus said, stretching his limbs after releasing his grip on the angel. "Do you think that Brier's done with her call yet?" he asked Whis as the two of them walked through the halls. "I'm afraid I'm not certain." Whis answered. "You know how much she and her father like to talk during these things."

"True. . .welp, it's time for dessert!" Beerus declared, causing Whis to roll his eyes (though he wasn't truly annoyed). "Now where is that hound of hers?. . ." Beerus wondered a loud. Not a second later, Kero walked by the two, holding a silvery tray that was filled with an assortment of grilled meat and veggies. "Ah! There you are!" Beerus said with a smile on his feline face. "?" Kero looked at the two, confused.

"Do you two need anything? I'm about to go on my break." Kero said. "As a matter of fact, yes." Beerus said. "Can you please get that super rare dessert that you bought for me on Planet Caspian?" Beerus asked. "Right away, my lord." Kero said. He, Whis, and Beerus walked straight to the dining room, with Kero placing his tray of food on the table before entering the kitchen. "By the way Kero, do you know where Brier is?" Beerus asked.

"She's in her room talking with Lord Arum." was Kero's answer. "I had some things to do in the kitchen and she didn't want to get in the way, despite the fact that I told her that it was fine. Though that could be because she wanted some privacy when they started talking about personal matters." He then walked out of the kitchen and went straight towards Beerus and Whis, holding two glasses filled with a turquoise colored liquid filled with chewy azure balls, and it was topped with a pink-purple colored jelly. "Here you go, a lovely dessert hailing from the sea-based planet, Caspian. Please enjoy." Kero said, placing two silver spoons near the dessert glasses. He then gave the two deities a bow before he took his tray of food and left to go on break.

"And if you two are still hungry, I made something for you both while you were away." Kero added as he left. "It's in the fridge."

"Thank you!" both Beerus and Whis said to the daemon-wolf butler. Beerus then used the silver spoon he was given by Whis and took a bite of his jelly-like dessert. It was sweet with a hint of the planet's sea salt to keep said sweetness from becoming overpowering. Truly wondrous.

"So, do you remember that name? That 'Super something' or other?" Whis asked. "Hmmm. . .nope. But that's fine. I'll just ask the Oracle Fish." Beerus replied, eating more of his dessert. "Ah, so you'll rely on the Oracle?" Whis said. "And what if I do?" Beerus questioned.

"Nothing, it's not my problem. Do as you please." Whis told him. Beerus nodded and stood up from his seat, and called out:

"Hey Oracle! Are you there?"

The only thing that was heard was silence. But before Beerus could try again, an object came thrashing about, creating a ruckus. It also collided with Beerus' glass, causing it to fall to the ground and spilling the contents on the floor. After that, a bright blue fish in a floating teal colored orb looked at Beerus and asked, "What do you want?" Instead of answering right away, Beerus looked at his now ruined dessert, and looked back at the Oracle Fish with an annoyed expression.

After savoring the final bite of his dessert, he let out a sigh and said, "Right before my last nap, you once predicted in 39 years, a formidable opponent would appear." "He will. Sometime today." The Oracle Fish answered. "Ha! So I was right, Whis!" Beerus declared with a grin. Whis said nothing as he ate his dessert from his glass.

"And the name of this formidable opponent?. . .What did you say it was?" Beerus questioned. "I need to track him down." The Oracle Fish put a fin to his face and began to think. "His name. . .hmmm. . .I forgot!" he revealed. "You forgot?!"

"Come on, Oracle! Try to think a little harder!" Whis told the fish. "Hey Whis?" Beerus said, getting his attendant's attention. "The Oracle Fish is fed three time a day, right?" "Yes, that's correct, my lord." Whis answered. "How about we reduce it to twice a day instead?" Beerus suggested menacingly.

"!"

"What a wonderful idea! That means less work for me and Kero!" Whis replied with a nonchalant smile. "OH NO PLEASE!!" The Oracle Fish pleaded. "Not my food! Anything but that!" "Then earn your keep and try to remember his name, Oracle." Beerus growled. "Ok! I'll try to remember it!" The Oracle Fish then thought back to the day he gave Beerus the prophecy. "Let's see. Was it-no, not that. It was. . .it was. . .a Super Saiyan God!" he exclaimed.

"So I was right!" Beerus shouted victoriously. Then he thought out loud, "Now, if he's called a 'Super Saiyan God', does that mean he's a deity like me? How bothersome." "But Lord Beerus, according to my search, a person called a 'Super Saiyan God' currently doesn't exist." Whis told him, looking up from the orb of his golden staff. "Well then the Saiyans must know something." Beerus replied. "Ok. . .but didn't you order Frieza to destroy their home world, Planet Vegeta?" Whis questioned. "If I recall correctly, you did so right before you went to sleep."

"Oh yeah. I did do that, didn't I?" Beerus said. "Oh well, you know that they drove me nuts. Especially that old miser, King Vegeta. He was such an arrogant brute. The only good one was his wife, Queen Eschalot."

"Wasn't one of the reasons because one time you and Lady Brier visited, you claimed that you caught him staring at her chest during dinner?" Whis asked.

". . .So to sum it up, the entirety of the Saiyans were annihilated together with Planet Vegeta, right?" Beerus questioned, ignoring Whis' earlier statement. As if he'd ever admit that. "You're a bit wrong about that, sir." Whis answered. "Huh? How so?" "Most were annihilated, but those who were on other planets survived. For example, the King and Queen's sons, Princes Vegeta and Tarble, are alive and well. Though they both live on different planets."

"Hmm. Lucky fellows." was all Beerus said as a response.

Beerus then asked, "Whis, is it bath time already?" "A bath? At this hour? Didn't you also take a shower earlier today?" "I just had a fight with that barbarian from that planet. I want to get freshened up a bit before I see Brier." Beerus responded. Whis sighed and said, "Right away, my lord."

“Yes yes, I know. I promise that I’ll come visit you and the others some time soon. Alright?” Brier said to her father, now in her bedroom. “Truly? You promise?” her father said. “Of course. I wouldn’t make a promise that I know I couldn’t keep. Goodbye, Father. Love you.” she promised. Brier then ended her call with him, watching as the water slowly fell back into the silver bowl. She placed the bowl onto her dresser and exited her room.

Brier then bumped into someone in the hallway, almost causing her to lose her balance. The goddess noticed that she had bumped into none other than Kero. "Oh! I'm sorry Kero, I didn't see you there." she apologized.

"It's nothing, milady. It's not like someone of your dainty size could harm me." he joked. Her familiar noticed the tired expression on Brier’s face and asked, “Are you alright, my lady?”

“I am. Why do you ask?” Brier questioned.

“You seem tired is all,” Kero said. “Well, you know how my father is sometimes.” she told him. “I love him, but he’s difficult to talk to. Well, it's more like he drains me of my energy when we have long conversations like that one." Brier said, and sternly added, "Don't tell him I said that."

"Of course. What are your plans for today, Lady Brier?" Kero asked, now walking alongside her. "Well, for starters, I think I need to take a bath to relax.” she said. “Did Whis or Beerus contact you yet?” Brier added. “No, but they've returned from their usual duties, milady.” Kero answered. Brier perked up at this. "Really? Do you know where they are right now?"

"I'm afraid that I'm not sure. They could still be eating in the kitchen, or perhaps they've finished and are elsewhere." Kero added. "I see." Brier said as she walked away.

“Where are you going, milady?” Kero asked as he followed her. “The bathroom. I think I need to take a bath to relax.” Brier replied.

“Noted.” Kero replied. "Shall I get the bath salts then?"

Brier nodded and walked to her and Beerus’ shared bathroom. She and Kero entered only to find Whis and Beerus inside, her husband already taking a bath. ‘It appears that your husband had the same idea,’ Kero said to her through their telepathic bond, causing Brier to simply nod her head. Beerus took notice of their presence. “Your meeting with your father ended already?” Beerus asked her.

“Yes, and I can see that your duties have come to an end as well. How did it go?” Brier asked as she sat on the ground, near the built in bathing pool. “It was fine, I guess,” Beerus said. Kero stood near Whis and asked the angel, “Did he finally find what he was looking for?” “Sort of.” Whis said. "Huh?"

“Speaking of which, Whis, tell me what happened with the Saiyan survivors.” Beerus commanded, interrupting the two. His attendant then used his staff and looked into the shiny black orb, which glowed a bright cyan color. “Hmm, well for the most part they settled on Sector 4032 Green, on planet 877. The indigenous life there calls it planet 'Earth'.” he revealed.

"So some of the Saiyans survived what happened to their home planet?" Brier asked, surprised. "Indeed they did." Whis answered. "And like I was telling Lord Beerus earlier, most of them are living on Planet Earth now."

“Planet Earth? That name sounds familiar.” Beerus muttered.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that the planet where you wiped out some of those dinosaurs?” Brier questioned. “That’s right. Those creatures had quite the attitude problem.” Beerus said. “But I graciously spared their world, that was Earth, wasn’t it?

“Yes, however, it appears that one of the Earth’s Saiyans called Goku defeated Frieza, is currently not there.” "!" This revelation shocked Beerus, causing him to fall into the water.

He then emerged, fully drenched and shouted, “HE DEFEATED FRIEZA?!” Due to his shock, Beerus had forgotten that he had been bathing, so the others could see his naked form. Brier, Whis, and Kero all blushed at the sight before them.

“The water is not that deep, my lord.” Whis reminded him, looking away with an embarrassed smile.

Realizing his mistake, Beerus quickly submerged himself back in his bath, embarrassed. “S-Sorry.” he apologized, looking at Brier especially. Brier looked at him and said, “It’s alright, Beerus. Besides, it’s not like this is the first time I’ve seen you-" ''A-Anyway, Whis, tell me more about this Saiyan that defeated Frieza.” Beerus interrupted, getting more embarrassed. Brier couldn't help but playfully roll her eyes at Beerus. They've been married for so many years, and he's still blushes at the idea memory of their first time together?

How adorable.

“Right. As I said earlier, his name is Son Goku, but Kakarot is his given Saiyan name. As of right now, he’s doing some sort of training on the North Kai’s world.” Whis said, bringing Brier out of her thoughts.

“That’s suspicious. Can you show me what he looks like?” Beerus asked, having gotten over what happened earlier. Whis nodded and created a holographic projection using his staff. It showcased Goku’s battle with the evil space dictator, Frieza.

"So that's him? This 'Son Goku'?" Brier asked, also looking at the staff. "During his battle with Frieza?" "Indeed it is, my lady," Whis answered. 'Huh. . .he's a bit smaller than I thought he would be.' Brier thought to herself. 'But then again, it has been awhile since I've last seen a Saiyan in person.'

Beerus remained silent as he continued to watch Whis' orb. He was puzzled about Goku’s hair and eyes. His hair was golden blonde and his eyes were a bright emerald green.

“Remind me, but don’t Saiyans have black hair and dark eyes?” Beerus asked. “Yes, but it appears that Goku has the ability to transform into what is known as a 'Super Saiyan'.” Whis answered. "A technique that had been forgotten by the Saiyans for generations until now."

“Super Saiyan? Not Super Saiyan God?”

“Afraid not.”

Beerus sighed and exited his bath. He grabbed a towel that was on a nearby table and used it to dry himself. Beerus then walked over to Kero and put on a pinkish white bathrobe that the wolf familiar handed to him. “Super Saiyan. . .he’s no Super Saiyan God, but he comes close enough. Whis, how long will it take us to go to King Kai’s planet?” Beerus asked his attendant.

“Approximately twenty six minutes and forty six seconds, my lord.” Whis answered. “Are they really that far away?!" Beerus exclaimed. "Yes."

"Huh. So it’s about the length of your average anime episode.” Beerus said, muttering the last part. "I swear, you and your anime shows." Brier said in a joking manner as she walked up behind Beerus and gave him a hug. "Hey. You don't hear me complaining about you and those trashy romance novels you love so much." Beerus said, joking as well. "Hm. Fair enough." Brier said, giving Beerus a quick peck on the cheek.

Despite that sweet gesture from Brier, it unfortunately wasn't enough to make Beerus forget about the time it'd take to get to King Kai's home (although he'd be lying if it didn't help a little). “Ugh, I hate long flights,” he moaned.

“In that case love, how about I take us there?” Brier offered. “That way not only does Whis get a break, but we could get there faster with my portals. Does that sound alright with you two?” she asked. The two thought it over, and both responded to her offer. “It’s quite alright with me, my lady. Besides, I can use a little break.” Whis said with a smile. “Of course it's alright! Hey Whis, can you and Kero prepare lunch for when we get there?” Beereus said.

“Yes, my lord.” Whis said as he and Brier’s familiar left the bathroom and walked towards the kitchen.

Brier noticed the intense gaze of her husband. Curious, she walked towards him and stood by his side. “Beerus? What is it?” she asked. She normally never sees him this determined for, well, anything really. Unless it was getting Kero to make him seconds.

“No matter what it takes, I will meet that Super Saiyan God.”

——————————————————————————

AN: The reason why I decided to give Vegeta a mom in this is because I've always wondered if he had one in the series and it's driven me crazy. Was she a royal consort, was she actually the queen and King Vegeta’s wife, or was Vegeta and his brother Tarble made in a lab?

Either way, I just decided to create my own version in case I decided to write short stories that explore Vegeta's relationship with her if I ever wanted to do so in the future.

#dragon ball #dragon ball super #dragon ball fanfiction #beerus x original character #lord beerus #god of destruction #angels dbs #dbsuper #original dragon ball characters #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #anime and manga #anime fanfic #his lovely rose au #bride of the destroyer story #by jazzy 💖#jazzy's fics ✍🏻

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emmychee · 9 months ago

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Stargazing

Fem/Autistic! Reader + Ray Stantz (PLATONIC)

May contain mentions of ableism, and a minor wound

(1,936 words)

The shrill horns of cars, trucks and taxis bring a loud chorus of chaos; the usual term when hanging around streets of New York on a dry spring evening. Just at half-past seven. Normal nightly hours.

The chaotic surroundings aren’t your thing being an autistic woman in a city you’ve settled in. But you mask it well, keeping a set face when in public… and let it out privately when it has been too much. Let the tears out so they don’t abuse you with their words. Some New Yorkers don’t bat an eye on you, even if you are not on the verge of shutdowns. Only a few get the point, and a few in fact understand you. Warts and all.

Tonight, is the night for your stroll to Central Park. The large telescope in your arms wobble as you try to maintain your stamina as you push past pedestrians. Not an eye batted. But that’s alright. You want to keep going to find a good spot for yourself to look at the sky. One of your favourite interests.

You stop at the crossing, waiting for the light to turn green for you to pass. Vehicles speed from both directions, not one willing to stop. But one did and the crossing is free for you to cross to the other side where Central Park is just around the corner. You stumble a little. The telescope’s weight challenges your stamina.

‘Excuse me, miss!’ Somebody declares with a rather authoritative air. ‘Do you have a license to carry such equipment?’

You feel the hairs on your arms rise. A license for a telescope? That’s new. Knowing to answer to authorities you swirl around, tensing up for the confrontation… only to confront a familiar face.

‘Oh, Ray!’ You let your shoulders sag, and you fiddle your hands over the telescope. You feel yourself laughing. ‘You surprised me!’

Dr Raymond Stantz, the Heart of the Ghostbusters. He has clicked with you immediately way back and became tightly knit, despite him having to do a lot of dangerous work in finding the supernatural while you were busy practicing the arts or looking after his book shop in his stead. His six-foot frame towers over you, posing with both hands on his hips, but it is the playful heterochromia eyes (one green and one brown) that shows his amiable air.

‘Sorry, lil’ bean!’ He chuckles, which you respond with your own, hearing his affectionate nickname for you. ‘Whatcha doing out here?’

‘I’m off to the park for some stargazing. See if I can get a lot today.’ You fiddle over the telescope again. ‘Would you like to come? It’s fine if you can’t…’

‘Sure! I’ve just closed my bookshop, and ghosts must be laying low tonight.’

‘Yay!’ Your smile broadens, and your feet tap around excitedly. ‘I love to have some company.’

‘I thought you would.’ Ray eyes the telescope struggling in your arms. ‘Want me to carry that?’

‘Nah, I can handle it.’ However, your pace somehow cannot catch up, and you stop, lowering the telescope. ‘Well, maybe not so much.’

‘How ‘bout we carry it together? You hold this end, and I’ll hold this end.’

You mumble softly, moving your hands around the telescope’s legs while Ray handles the lens. You look around for any bystanders. Luckily none are aware. You’ve previously endured such situations, some vocally expressing their hostile opinions. Whether it be you flapping your hands or holding them like a squirrel would when on alert-mode. You would sense them ordering you to put your hands to your side, like a “normal” person would. But those matters have lessened when you and Ray became friends. His aura makes you feel comfortable.

Deeper in Central Park you two find a good spot to put down the telescope. Ray adjusts the legs, setting them in place. You wipe the lens with a tissue for any dirt. You tilt it towards the sky, only to find out there is something wrong.

You sigh. ‘Wonderful.’

‘What’s up?’ Ray asks.

‘I didn’t think it’ll have an overcast tonight.’ You glare at the thin sheets of cloud covering some of the sky. There are small specs of light from adjacent houses. ‘Not to mention there are still some houses with their lights left on.’ You crunch your hand over your hooded jumper. ‘Geeze, I’m so stupid.’

‘Aw, c’mon! At least there’s still some stars to find. I think that’s the Big Dipper over there! Or Ursa Major, aka, the Big Bear.’

‘Yeah.’ You nod. ‘It’s just one of the problems being in a city. You don’t get this much light pollution out in the wide-open spaces.’

You peer through the telescope to see the stars that have managed to creep from the clouds. ‘Ah, there’s Ursa Major. I can just about see it. Who would have thought that these little dots in the sky are humungous up there?’

‘Yep. Big balls of gas, miles and miles away. They’ve got a lotta energy.’

‘And some are even bigger than the planets.’ You tilt the telescope up and down, before pulling it back up again. You step back and sit on the bench behind. In a second Ray sits down. ‘You got a favourite planet?’

‘Favourite planet?’ Ray repeats, his gaze shifting between you and the sky. ‘It’s gotta be Jupiter.’

‘Ah, the big boy!’

‘The big boy himself! Got a lotta moons to father, huh? Especially Io and Ganymede. Lots of moons. Saturn must be feeling that similar pain. That planet is good-looking with those rings of rock and ice. I like Jupiter cause it’s full of energy with its storms.’

You shudder. ‘I’d hate to find myself in one, especially from its red spot. It looks very angry!’

Ray chuckles and ruffles his hand over your hair. You duck into your hoodie, stifling a giggle from the welcoming affection.

‘What about you?’ He asks. ‘What’s your favourite planet?’

You fumble your thumbs together. ‘I like Pluto. Always loved Pluto.’ You shyly look at Ray nodding. His smile grows when you swivel about in your seat. ‘Always thought it was a funny but cute name for a little one.’

‘Especially for the lovable dog.’

You look up at the sky and frown. ‘Shame that it got demoted to a dwarf planet, as in NOT a proper planet anymore. They think it orbits differently than the other planets. Not to mention it’s smaller than Mercury. It’s like they just see it as a lame piece of floating rock… or something. Must be lonely up there, too.’

‘Yeah. Poor fella. Can’t believe they did that! Just cause they don’t think it’s a planet doesn’t mean it’s nothing special for us. Besides, it has its own moons, so it’s not alone.’

‘Like Charon?’

‘Like Charon. See? I know other things than ghosts!’

You smile faintly. ‘And Pluto is special, no matter what.’ You squeeze your hands over your hoodie. ‘I understand how Pluto must feel though, being different. Being different from being normal to anything or anyone. One point you feel like someone, and then the next they throw you aside. Like you don’t fit in. Like you’re not really a human being.’

You shuffle in your seat again. ‘People would shoot me looks whenever I stim.’ You choke, hearing your voice wobble. ‘Tell me that I talk too much on things I like. Or I’m too quiet and don’t say a lot. Or say I don’t “look” autistic cause I act “normal” at times.’

‘I get ya.’ Ray puts an arm around your shoulders. ‘I get ya. I’m always ready for a challenge with whatever the spirits give us,’ he snickers, adding, ‘and getting pay-check, no matter small, but gotta admit it ain’t easy. I put everyone in danger, and I slip up, too. Like the time a giant version of Mr Stay Puft marched round the city.’

‘A giant Mr Stay Puft?’

‘The marshmallow mascot I loved. A harmless being that just popped in there. Big mistake.’ Ray shakes his head sadly. ‘And Peter likes to grab my ear. He did it again this morning.’

You wince as Ray gingerly rubs over his ear. You can see a small red mark. He is too busy rubbing his other ear for a look there, but you are certain it’s just as sore.

‘I dunno why he’d do that. That’s mean!’

‘Awh, he means well, even if a bit of a pain. With friends like him who needs Gozer. Or Vigo. Or in Egon’s case, the Boogieman. Or with Winston, a minor demon.’

You nod, and then without hesitation… ‘Or even Mr Pecker?’ you add.

Ray laughs. ‘Yeah. Who needs HIM?’ Sighing, he leans back, clapping his hands over his knees. ‘Yeah. We’re not so different, aren’t we, Y/N? You and I, we have a connection. That I have someone else to share a lotta stuff with, even if bothers the boys. Of course, you’re not as excited about ghosts, but…’

‘I know. But I always find joy when you come back with one, looking like a proud fisher with a great catch.’

‘Always a great catch!’

You look at your knees pressed together, listening to other people but cannot hear what they are saying. You look up to see them pass by, minding their own business. Pigeons leave for roosting on the trees, their fluttering wings are loud. A dog is barking somewhere. There’s a lot of noise tonight.

You put your hands on your knees, and almost immediately you can feel your eyes water.

‘Hey.’ Ray whispers, reaching his hand to wipe an escaping tear. ‘You alright?’

‘Yeah.’ You hear your voice wobble again, as you scrub your face dry. ‘This has been so… nice. Even if we didn’t see a lotta stars tonight, I’m glad I got to talk to you about something. Like about Pluto. But hey, it has a heart pattern. A very big one too!’

‘Yep. Just as big as yours.’

You look at Ray… and turn away, feeling a coat of blush on your cheeks. ‘You’re right. Just cause Pluto’s different than the others, now a dwarf planet, doesn’t mean it’s not something.’ You brave yourself to look at Ray again. ‘Cause I think it’s still a planet, just a smaller kind.’ You smile. ‘I love that little ninth planet.’

‘I think it’s special too. Just like you.’ Ray runs his hand across your shoulder. ‘Don’t bother what others have to say, even with your little stims. You’re you, and nothing else. Just like Pluto is… well, Pluto, for a little ex-planet.’

You lower your gaze shyly, and nestle against Ray’s side, wrapping your arms around him. ‘Thanks Ray.’ You whisper.

‘Always happy to help,’ Ray replies, ‘and hug.’

The evening grows darker, as you two pack up the telescope, and exit Central Park. You look at your watch, it has just gone eight. The street outside has become slightly emptier, and yet it makes you tremble. Luckily, Ecto-1 is waiting on the curb once you have left the park’s perimeter.

‘Thanks again for hanging out, Ray.’

‘No problem, Y/N. Sorry if the sky wasn’t perfect.’

‘It’s okay. There’s always another time.’

‘That’s the spirit!’

You both climb inside Ecto-1, and Ray starts her up, roaring with life. The siren is not on, but the radio blares a song by Jackie Wilson.

‘Why don’t you join us in the firehouse for a coffee, and a takeout?’ Then Ray grumbles. ‘And Peter better not ask for Thai again.’

‘So, what do you fancy?’ You ask.

‘Wanna get a pizza?’

‘Sounds good.’

#writing #reader insert #ray stantz #ghostbusters #platonic friendships #autistic reader

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kopawz · 1 year ago

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wip wednesday, huh? mk. lemme look thru one of the funny bits in this long, drawn out action fest. ya. here. cnmn and mac hit kale with the truck 👍nearly halfway through the chapter by now

Bounding across rooftops, pipes, and scaffolding– 808 saw Chai fleeing via magnet hook, arguing with Kale mid-air. He continued warping in and out of view, trying to keep pace.

[If *you* believe–]

Chai shouts over his shoulder, glaring at his chaser, "How can you be such an asshole?! Literally– there was no reason to pull that crap on her!–"

Kale swiped at the magnet hook Chai had just left, exploding it in a crackling soundwave, leaving smoke and debris trailing from the building it was attached to, "Seriously?! THAT'S what bothers you about this–? First of all! I was defending myself–"

Drawing back his sword, he growled when he swiped and only hit air, "Second of all–! It was an accident, I didn't mean to do more than just get her out of my way." He clung to a building that Chai seemed like he would hook to next–

Kale decided to bait him into attacking, "Hell, I'm just lucky that Peppermint can’t warp to her anymore. She's pissed enough to do more damage than you are right now–"

[In blues…]

"BULLSHIT!–" Chai twisted his body to kick himself off the magnet hook he linked to, raising his guitar up to smash it down over Kale’s head.

Adorably predictable. Reading him like a book, Kale parried the overhead swing effortlessly– Smacking Chai in the face with the blunt end of the sword's hilt.

Making an unpleasant noise, Chai was unable to catch his fall on another magnet hook, and crashed into a dumpster with enough force to topple over the entire container.

It wasn't exactly a soft landing, but at least he didn't land on his core. He rolled off the discarded heaps of trash bags, and pushed himself to stand with a groan, "Ow." He swiped some blood trailing out of his nose onto the side of his palm.

[...In blues!']

Walking out of the alleyway he crash-landed into, Chai emerged into a desolate street. All the lights were out, and aside from his labored breathing and music… It was just him here. Well– that's not entirely true,

Kale was already at the other end of the street, casually twirling his sword in his hand. Chai could barely grip his own weapon. And nobody was coming to help him–

*HONK-HONK* …Wait, what? He turned to glance behind his shoulder.

Tires screeched around the corner– barely clipping against a street sign displaying a drastically lower speed limit compared to how fast the familiar truck barreling their way was going.

[I showed *him* my crazy beats,]

"CHAI!" Macaron leaned his head out of the passenger seat; CNMN was driving, and appeared ecstatic to be doing so, "MOVE OUT OF THE WAY!"

Don’t need to tell him twice. Chai dived out of the way of the truck, and reached out his arm so he could magnetize to the back of the truck bed– hitching a ride.

“WHAT–” Caught in the headlights of the truck, Kale had not calculated this happening.

#hi fi rush #hi-fi rush #can cnmn drive? sure. responsibly? debatable.

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thoughtsfromjas · 2 years ago

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Your Musical Theme

The theme in my music playlist is desperation. I picked this theme because although it may seem easy to find songs about this I wanted a challenge to see if I knew songs about desperation and listen to the lyrics to see what each artist was desperate to find or get within each song. The theme I choose doesn't have much relation to me other than the fact that everyone is always desperate for something whether it's love, money, friends, etc. I wanted to find songs that had that sense of desperation to see the different aspects of things people want in life. Let’s start with the country song I choose first “Light It Up” by Luke Bryan. This song is about a guy who is wanting this girl and waiting around for her to text him and overall by with him. He is so desperate for her to message him a line n the song “I feel the buzz in my truck and I almost wreck it” which shows that he just waits all day long to hear from this girl so desperate for her to want him. This song is upbeat and fast-paced and is a degree of dissonance. This song evokes an emotion of desperation and loneliness in a way because he just wants this girl to talk to him and would wait forever if he had to. The next song is “Mercy” by Brett Young. This song is about a guy who is in a situation with a girl where he's not sure if she wants him or doesn't. Throughout the song, this guy is just so desperate for her to make up her mind and have mercy on him because he just can't take the confusion any longer. A line in the song is “wing up home alone, please don't call me and say you miss me” emphasizing that he is so desperate for her to decide because he can't take the heartache of it anymore. This song is slow-paced and sort of a mix of consonance and dissonance. This song evokes an emotion of sadness and someone who is exhausted from this love that isn't love. The last country song is “Sixteen” by Thomas Rhett which is about a boy who starts off being 15 but becomes so desperate to get older trying 16, 18, and 21. The boy at 15 is desperate to become 16 so he can drive and then wants to become 18 so that he is finally an adult who can make his own decisions and then wants to be 21 so he can drink. The boy was just so desperate to get older and be on own his and towards the end of the song is now 25 wishings he would have just lived in the moment and didn't rush life. This song is upbeat and is in a degree of consonance. This song evokes an emotion of happiness and sadness because he's happy getting older but then looking back he wishes he hadn't been so desperate to get older. The next song is a rap song “All Of Your Love” by Hotboii which is about a guy who is very desperate for this girl's love because he gives all of his to her but just wants that received. A line in the song is “I just want your lovin, I can’t even function” which shows his desperation for her love. This song is upbeat and is a degree of consonance. This song evokes an emotion of loneliness because he is just begging and wanting this girl's love and attention. The next song is a folk song “John Hardy Was A Desperate Little Man” by the Carter Family which is a true story about a railroad worker living in West Virginia. The man was a drunk and supposedly killed a man out of an act of desperation for freedom and having women. This song is in the middle between slow and fast-paced and is a degree of consonance. This song evokes an emotion of curiosity because the song is told as if it was a story. The last song is in the genre of electronic called “I Miss You” by Clean Bandit featuring Julia Michaels. This song is about a girl missing a guy but she's nervous about what he's doing, who he's with, what their parents think, etc. The desperation within this song is the girl wanting to just be with him and desperate to like the things he likes or do the things he loves such as “you weren't a fan of pictures, so I hardly ever took ‘em”. This song is very much upbeat and has a degree of dissonance. This song evokes an emotion of sadness and desperation toward a boy she loves and wants.

"Light It Up" by Luke Bryan https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3yyZ0UOZgcQ

"Mercy" by Brett Young https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Thvm6dADOms

"Sixteen" by Thomas Rhett https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TEezDy6Byws

"All of your love" by Hotboii https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WNqfb8B3G9o

"John Hardy Was A Desperate Little Man" by Carter Family https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v3019HUyoKQ

"I Miss You" by Clean Bandit ft. Julia Michaels https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uZs1AHQBz24

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writercole · 2 years ago

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I Belong To You

Summary: Rip Wheeler gets a little possessive when some idiot won’t take no for an answer

Words: 1120ish

Warnings: Smut. 18+. Unprotected sex, assault, blood, dom/sub dynamics, sir kink, breath play, bloody hands, semi-public sex, degradation, possessive man, light praise for assault, breeding kink, cream pie, hickies

Credits: My beautiful, amazing sister @therebeccaw for looking over this for me.

A/N: Fucking cowboys.

One thing you could say about Rip Wheeler was that he didn’t take shit from anyone. Even further, you could honestly claim that if someone insulted or disrespected someone Rip cared for, well, they would need a hospital.

That’s what happened tonight. You’d gone out with Rip to celebrate the end of a long fucking week. It wasn’t a special occasion; the two of you wanted to blow off some steam and the bar seemed like a good idea.

Until this cocksure cowboy put his hands on you after you told him no repeatedly. After you pushed his hands off of you multiple times. After you moved away from him. After you told him you were Rip Wheeler’s property. He still didn’t step away.

So Rip stepped in.

You watched as Rip grabbed the man by the collar and swung repeatedly at the cowboy’s face, his knuckles splitting as they broke the skin on the man’s face. By the time Rip dropped him, he was passed out, blood spilling from his nose, his eyes, his mouth.

Rip cupped your face, checking to see that you were okay. All he found were eyes that were wide with lust and a lip that was close to tearing from you biting down on it.

“Really, baby?” he drawled as he placed a kiss to your forehead.

“Mhmm,” you hummed quietly, dropping your gaze to your feet.

“Oh, I didn’t need an answer,” he smirked, ‘I can smell you.”

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you outside, manhandling you into the back seat of his truck and climbing in behind you. “I bet you can’t even wait till we get home, can you?”

“No, Rip,” you begged, “please.”

“No what?”

“Sir. No sir, I can’t wait till we get home. I need you to fuck me hard, show me who owns me,” you pleaded, your whiny voice sounding foreign to your ears.

Rip growled and tugged your jeans down, ripping your panties at the seam and exposing your dripping core to the chilly air. A shiver trailed down your spine as his fingers danced between your folds, dipping into your tight channel.

“Baby girl, you really liked that guy getting what was coming to him, didn’t you?” Rip taunted as his fingers curled against your spongy walls.

“Yes, sir,” you panted, “he deserved it.”

“But what was your favorite part?” he pressed as he pumped his digits in and out of you, the slick sound filling the truck.

“Watching you, sir, was my favorite part - ohgodrip - the way your muscles - rightthereohmygod - rippled under your shirt - rippleaseimsoclose.”

Rip withdrew his fingers from you, eliciting a deep whine of frustration. The next sounds that filled the truck were his belt buckle clinking and his zipper unzipping. The thick head of his cock pressed against your warm hole, slowly inching inside of you, stretching your walls around him in a way that bordered on painful.

Rip gave you a moment to adjust before his hand - the hand that was covered in blood - wrapped around your throat and pulled your back flush to his chest and he began thrusting at a hard, brutal pace, hitting every spot deep inside of you, the ones you knew would throw you over the edge quickly.

Your walls clenched around him as you screamed in silent release, Rip’s hand loosening and prolonging your climax.

“No one can touch this cunt but me,” he growled in your ear, “you belong to me.”

“Uh huh,” you agreed.

“Words,” demanded Rip, “use your words you dirty slut.”

“You, sir,” you panted as his hand tightened around your throat once again. “Your cunt. Belong to you.”

“That’s fucking right. This pussy is mine. This ass is mine. This throat is mine.”

The possessive words combined with the frantic pace and the bloody hand enveloping your throat pushed you over the edge. Your mouth opened in a silent scream and your vision blurred. The only sound you heard was static as Rip chased his own high behind you, his hand getting tighter and tighter around your neck, cutting off your air supply while still allowing blood to flow, you pulse throbbing beneath his hand.

“That’s it, baby,” he growled, “you fucking take it. Take it like the fucking whore you are.” Rip’s thrusts became erratic, his pace faltering as you felt his cock throb inside your cunt, pushing you over the edge as he spilled his seed deep inside of you with a primal groan.

He held you up by the throat for a moment, sucking a bruise on your neck that would be visible for days - weeks - to come. When his hand fell from your neck, you collapsed forward, panting for breath, your walls still throbbing around Rip’s softening member. He pulled out of you slowly, eliciting a whine from you and a deep, guttural groan from him.

You could feel the warmth of his cum dripping out of your abused pussy, down your thigh, before Rip’s fingers scooped it up and shoved it back inside of you, fucking his cum back into your cunt with his thick digits, bringing you over the edge of release one more time.

Your walls throbbed around him, a satisfied hum falling from both of your lips.

“You good, baby?” he asked between breaths.

“So good, Rip. So good,” you replied with a smile, your face still smushed into the back seat of his truck, ass high in the air.

“Are we going back inside?” he pressed, tucking himself back into his jeans and buckling his belt.

“With your cum dripping down my leg and no underwear?” you said, a hint of disbelief in your voice.

“Alright, give me a minute before I can drive,” he chuckled.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I want my jeans to look like I pissed myself between you and me,” you scoffed, “I want there to be no question as to what happened in here.” You struggled to your knees, pulling your pants up to your waist and buttoning them before trapping Rip against the door. “I want everyone to know that I belong to you, Rip Wheeler, and only you.”

“God that is so fucking hot,” he growled as he captured your lips in a heated kiss, nipping at your bottom lip before pulling away. “You got at max an hour to show off before I’m taking you home and fucking you again,” Rip warned as he shifted so he could step out of the truck.

“Yes, sir,” you agreed, taking his hand and setting your boots on the ground.

“And baby? Don’t get any ideas about protection,” he told you, “I’m fucking you raw until I knock you up. Then everyone in the whole fucking world will know you’re mine.”

#writercole #rip wheeler #yellowstone #cole hauser #spicy fic #new fandom #kinktober #but not really

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seiyasabi · 4 years ago

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A Farmer Boy’s Crush

(This is a Yandere Ushijima x Female Reader story! I’m sorry in advance, because I think this man is scary ;(( Also, there will be no part two of this, and I’m sorry if it sucks lol.

TW: !Noncon!, Stalker Ushi!, Size kink!, Cumflation!, Spanking!, Dacryphilia?, Choking!, Breeding Kink!, Cockwarming, Threatening behaviour!, etc..

Please proceed with caution!)

“I’m sorry, Ushijima-san, but I’m not interested in you. I’m focusing on my career, so I don’t have time for a relationship.”

It started when you were in highschool.

The volleyball player confessed to you on Valentines Day, equipped with handmade chocolates and roses from his Mother’s garden. At the time, you had no interest in boys. You were way too focused on your future career, viewing a significant other as a distraction. Ushijima, to his credit, didn’t lose his temper when you turned him down. He nodded, silently stalking off to the gym, his posture perfectly straight.

You’d brushed the entire event off, feeling guilty for turning him down so nonchalantly, but also standing your ground. The large man has a harem of girls, and you were sure he’d find a girlfriend that would treat him right.

But, what you didn’t know, was that all he wanted was you. He could never go for another girl, because you’re one of a kind.

He loves how you pick weeds out of the pavement, loves how you help old people bring their groceries to their car, loves how you’re YOU.

So, in his spare time (aka, when he’s not playing volleyball), he watches you. He’d followed you home one day, and he spotted you through your curtainless window.

That’s how it started; watching.

But watching wasn’t enough.

Soon, he’d break into your home, snagging a worn t-shirt or panties, a chapstick on your desk, a polaroid you recently took, etc.. Once in his possession, he’d stalk off home at a leisure pace. Ushijima would then place the item in the shrine in his closet, relishing the new item in his collection.

This went on for years, up until today. Today, he’d had enough. He’d heard from your friends on campus that you’d scored a date with a boy named ‘Kane,’ causing the large man to drive like a mad man in the direction of your home.

Seeing you from your room’s curtainless window, his nose flares in anger. You’re in a cute cherry patterned dress, (applying makeup/doing your skincare routine) in your vanity table’s mirror.

Stomping up your concrete front stairs, he grabs the hidden key in your potted plant outside, and slips inside. Wakatoshi makes his way up your house’s steps, creeping towards your closed door. He can hear music playing, most likely from your phone, and can see your shadow moving from underneath your door.

Grasping your metal door handle, he steps inside your air freshener infused room. His presence startles you, and he can’t help but feel pleasure at the look of shock on your face.

“Ushijima-san? What the hell are you doing-?” His large hand grips your throat, dragging you to your lilac coloured sheets. The olive haired man forces you onto your mattress, large body stradling your smaller form. Your weak attempt at freeing yourself is heartwarming, your spluttering and hits seem kitten-like.

“Why would you go to someone else?” You try to respond, but are unable to, his ministrations not allowing you to breathe. Noticing this, he releases his vice-like grip, merely hovering his calloused hand over your throat.

“What-” Your voice cracks, causing you to clear your throat, as tears drip down your pretty face, “What are you talking about? Why are you in my house?”

He ignores your questions, steely gaze glaring down at you, “Kane cannot provide for you. I have a stable income, he does not. I have my own home, he does not. He has no redeemable qualities. I cannot understand why you would wish to date him, when I am already in the picture.”

You start to sob pathetically, not understanding why your scary ex-classmate is assaulting you verbally and physically, “Ushijima, I don’t understand what you’re talking about! I haven’t spoken to you for years-”

His grip around your throat tightens once more, as he speaks through gritted teeth, “We may not have spoken, but I’ve kept a close eye on you. What happened to you ‘focusing on your career?’ You were such a good, hardworking girl until this point, but now you’re suddenly whoring yourself out to an unimpressive boy. Let me show you who you belong to, (Your Name), because it seems that you’ve forgotten.”

Smacking at his muscular arms, you try to struggle out of his grip. Wakatoshi’s thick fingers tug at the zipper on the side of your dress, slipping it open with ease. He slides the thin straps off of your shoulders, forcing the straps up over your hands, and sliding the entire garment off of you. You’re left in your unmatching strapless bra and panties. He hums in delight at the sight; this must mean that you weren’t going to open your legs for that boy.

“You look beautiful,” He releases his grip just enough for you to breathe with ease, before ragdolling you over his muscular thigh. Your cute ass is on display to the olive haired man, his warm palm ghosting over the fat, “It’s a shame that I must put you in your place.”

Without warning, he slams his hand down, all whilst his free one covers your mouth. A scream rips from your throat, only to be muffled by your ex-classmate. Raising his previously used hand, he spanks you once more, the skin on your ass feeling like it’s on fire.

“I’m going to spank you twenty-five times, don’t try to struggle. If you do, I’ll increase it to fifty,” All you can do is sob in response, causing the large man to continue his assault. The ex-volleyball player doesn’t hold back in the slightest, bruising your ass down to the muscle. By the time he’s finished, your entire body is shaking, face slick with snot and tears. Ushijima can’t help but grow hard at your pain fueled expression. You’re just too cute, “Good. Now, let me reward you for your behaviour.”

You shake your head no, muffled pleas of ‘stop’ just barely heard. Your ex-classmate refuses to acknowledge your words, instead pulling your bruising ass against his hard cock. He unbuttons his trousers, pulling out his long, thick cock. It slaps against your bare stomach, as Ushijima shucks your panties and bra off of your body, exposing you fully to him. Removing his hand from your mouth, you’re finally able to speak as he gropes the fat of your tits, “Please stop! Don’t do this! I’m sorry that I refused you in highschool! Why don’t we go on a date right now? I-if we do that, then we can wait-”

“Shh, there’s no need to panic. We can go to dinner after this; I’ve waited too long for this,” Long fingers reach down to play with your clit, rubbing and squeezing the bundle of nerves with two fingers. His ring finger dips into your opening, forcing your dry walls open.

“Ushijima, please-”

“Call me Wakatoshi. We’re dating, afterall,” forcing his finger in and out whilst rubbing your clit, making your walls slick without your consent.

“Wakatoshi-” He removes his finger from inside of you, before quickly replacing it with the tip of his red, precum slicked cock. Without warning, he slips inside, spearing you open painfully. A loud yelp leaves your lips, as more tears drip down your face, “Take it out! Take it out! It hurts so bad!”

He relishes the way your slightly moistened walls knead him, practically sucking him in. He rubs your clit with quick, small circles, trying to help you accommodate his size. This, in turn, allows his wrist to lay against your tummy, feeling the way your tummy distends with his cock.

“You’re so tight. I always knew you were perfect for me,” He starts to bounce you on his prick, making it feel like your pussy was being ripped from your body. A small scream leaves your lips at the feeling, only for you to be silenced by a heated kiss. Waka’s body curls into your own, forcing you further onto his cock, and making it even harder for you to get off of him.

He bucks up into you like a mad man, fucking you on his length at top speed. The pain you previously felt slowly turns into pleasure, as the pressure on your clit increases. A few small moans escape your mouth into his, as he swallows them whole.

Wakatoshi lightly smacks your clit, making your eyes roll to the back of your head in pleasure. He releases you from the kiss, choosing instead to suck hickies onto your lolling neck. He grunts at the feeling of you tightening with an oncoming orgasm, as he rubs your clit as hard and fast as he can.

“Cum for me, cum right now. Let your womb swallow my seed, (Your Name), it’s clear that you need my baby to set you straight,” More tears drip down your face as you try to stop yourself from cumming.

“No! I don’t want a baby!” Waka doesn’t respond, only slapping your clit one last time. A strangled scream erupts from your throat, as you squirt all over him and your light coloured sheets. The force almost knocks him out of you, but he presses you down completely on his cock, allowing him to cum directly against your unprotected cervix.

Your body shakes with your sobs as you wrap yourself with your arms, and you try to get off of him. Wakatoshi wraps you in a constricting hug, keeping you completely enveloped by his large frame.

“You’re such a good girl for me, (Your Name). Now, let’s get you home, you clearly can’t be independent. Just rely on me, and I’ll keep you well fed and happy.”

You shake your head no, trying to escape his arms, but it’s no use. He’s so much bigger and stronger than you, making it virtually impossible for you to escape.

Grabbing your blanket, he wraps you with it, before standing to his feet. His cock is still inside of you, as he walks out of your house, and towards his parked Kei truck. He opens the door, and slips inside, you still cockwarming him. He sets a hand on your distended, cumfilled belly, and sighs in content.

“Everything will be alright. Let’s get back to the farm, and I’ll make you a nutritious meal. After all, you need to be strong for our growing baby.”

#yandere ushijima #yandere haikyuu imagines #yandere haikyuu #yandere haikyuu x reader #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi

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deliriousgeek · 3 years ago

Text

Thomas Shelby x Wife Reader

Summary: A quiet evening meant for celebration is thrown into chaos. Y/n wills herself to play into the daunting role that comes with being Thomas Shelby’s wife, because it might be the only thing keeping her alive.

Masterlist

Tommy lowkey feels very oc so idk how to feel about that. im not good at writing suspense...its also very long. ha :,)

Warning: blood, guns, knives, fights, usual peaky blinder violence

If anyone knew Y/n Shelby, then they would know that she can’t stand seeing dead bodies. Although in her case, having that reaction would seem ironic, considering her husband was Thomas Shelby.

It was around 9pm when Y/n slipped her night robe off and lay back on her bed. Her night was just winding down and she was waiting for Thomas to get back. He said he would try to be home around midnight, and to not wait up. He and his brothers would be at the Garrison, celebrating Arthur’s return from prison and discussing what was to be done with the Jews and Italians next.

Y/n knew it would be a couple hours for Tommy to be home, so she settled onto their bed and grabbed a book off her night stand.

The room was bathed in a warm, orange and yellow light— the type of light candles can give. When she was home alone, Y/n liked to use candle light. It reminded her of a time before the war and before this gang business, when all she and Tommy had to worry about was getting enough candles to light up the dinner table.

Half an hour had passed and Y/n had gotten through a decent number of pages in her book. She felt her eyes drooping and decided it was time to call it a night. She stretched and cracked her neck before turning to place her book on the nightstand. Just as she was about to place the book down, she heard a creak downstairs.

She froze.

Tommy wasn’t supposed to be back until midnight and none of the Shelby family would come over this late without a call, that was their safety protocol.

She listened for more creaking.

After Tommy had bought their house he had insisted on replacing the creaky floor boards, but decided to keep a few. In certain spots, that could be easily avoided if one knew where to walk, the floor would still creak. It was a safety thing that Tommy and Y/n agreed would be good to have. If the floorboards downstairs still creaked after the first step, it wasn’t one of them.

Creak...creak...creak...

That wasn’t Tommy.

Y/n took in a deep breath as she put herself back into a sitting position on the bed. An intruder was in her house. At the moment, the Peaky Blinders had a lot of enemies. It could be anyone. Mostly, someone with a gun.

She listened as the person made their way upstairs. She could hear them passing Tommy’s office, and the guest bedroom. This person knew where their room was, and she could only deduce from their movement’s that they were coming for her.

Y/n was scared. She knew how to defend herself, but didn’t like doing it if she didn’t have to. Rolling her shoulders, she prepared herself for the inevitable. She’d have to fight tonight.

To be clear, Y/n Shelby wasn’t unable to fight. She was a pro at throwing knives, which she preferred to guns; much to Tommy’s dismay. She knew how to shoot a gun and could decently fare in hand to hand combat, but she was still scared. Her heart beat in her chest quickly and anxiety bubbled to the surface. A normal reaction to knowing someone broke into your house to hurt you, or worse. Y/n assumed it was the latter. However, instead of letting her fear show, she turned on her fake calmness. A trick she forced herself to learn as Thomas Shelby’s wife. The alarm that was spread across her face vanished, instead being replaced with an eerily calm facade.

There was no point in locking the door. The person knew how to get past those if he made it into their living room. She heard their steps stop at the front of her door, she raised her book to her face, pretending like she was reading.

Act calm. She told herself.

Then, the door burst open.

Back at the pub, the Shelby brothers were sitting around the table in the snug. Sharing laughs and taking on their third round of Whiskey.

“Alright boys,” Tommy began, placing his glass down and looking around the table. “We’ve had our fun, business begins now.” His content expression turned serious.

His other brothers, and cousin Michael, cleared their throats and straightened up.

“As you know, taking Arthur out of prison is a direct threat to the Sabini’s. It shows that even in London we have enough influence to get our own men out, if needed.”

The brothers nodded, and shared looks.

Tommy continued, “Getting Arthur out was our first move. Now it’s the Italian’s and the Jew’s turn but we don’t know when their next strike will be. So, from this moment on we have to be aware, alert, and ready for every—”

The door flew open.

Sir!” Out of breath, Isaiah stood with one hand on the door knob, looking at Tommy.

“Oi!” Arthur shouted. “You know better than to interrupt!”

Tommy nodded his head at Arthur, then turned to Isaiah. “What is it, lad.”

“Better be important,” John added.

“Sir, the Italians are here. My dad spotted them making their way down the lane. They got a group with guns and a car. We best hurry.” Isaiah said in a rushed voice.

With that all the Shelby men stood and placed their caps on, rushing out of the snug.

Upon noticing the urgency in which the brothers exited, the rest of the Peaky Blinders in the pub were at full alert, waiting for Tom’s next words. The crowd silenced as the brothers stood at the snug doors, facing the onlookers.

“If you aren’t a Peaky Blinder,” Tom eyed the crowd, “leave.”

Noise filled the bar again as chairs shuffled, cups were placed on tables, and the front doors opened and closed.

Tom didn’t speak again until there were only Peaky Blinders left. He pulled out his revolver and checked it, making sure there were bullets, before looking up again.

“Battle formation, men. The Italians are here.”

Then in a flurry of peaky hats and over coats, the rest of the men got into their positions. Some ran up the stairs to get the extra cases of shotguns and revolvers. Others pulled out their own handguns and checked them as well. The Shelby boys looked at each other, a silent way of saying ‘good luck’.

Once Tommy deemed every one armed, he nodded to Arthur, who shouted to move out.

The Shelbies were at the front, while everyone fell behind them in triangle formation. As they marched outside, they could see the group of Italians rounding the corner.

It was rather intimidating. An outline of men and guns on shoulders, a rather sizable group at that, illuminated by the truck headlights that followed behind. It was a sight to see.

Darby Sabini stood at the front, a shotgun slung over his shoulder.

As the groups marched towards each other and came to a stop, a man behind Thomas called out to the front. “At your command Sergeant Major.”

A hushed tone of agreement spread throughout the group.

Darby stepped forward. “Thought you could come on our turf and get away with it, aye?”

Tommy stepped forward as well, hands in his pockets. “It was meant as a friendly gesture, but I don’t think you have enough friends to know what that means.”

A small smirk made its way onto Tommy’s face as he stared Darby down.

Darby narrowed his eyes, irritated at that remark. “I’ll show you what friendly means. Now!”

A hail of gunfire began and the sound of shots being fired filled the lane. It was chaos. Bullets flew and body’s fell. Punches were thrown and blood was spread. More men jumped out of the covered truck and ran to beat down the men on the other side.

Tommy ducked and punched, kicked and shot. In the middle of punching a man in the gut he yelled, “Leave Darby for me!”

His men did just that.

Thomas fought his way to the center of the fight, where Darby had just knocked out a Peaky Blinder. Tommy aimed his gun and walked forward, aiming at Darby. The fighting on both sides ceased.

“I didn’t bring a battalion to your town.” Tommy spoke clearly, in a raised voice.

Darby aimed his gun as well. The two circled each other as men on both sides stopped to observe the interaction. They watched Tommy and Darby tread carefully, like two tentative predators waiting for their opposer to falter.

“You still showed up. That was enough.”

The two men were breathing heavily, a result from the brawls they just finished.

“What’s your purpose for being here, Sabini?” Thomas stopped pacing, his gun still firmly held up.

Darby stopped as well. An obnoxious laugh left his lips. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Tommy didn’t move. He held a blank face, but his eyes still watched Darby with intensity.

Not waiting for a response Darby continued, “I’m reminding you that I can take away everything you have in an instant. I already put your brother in jail, which it seems wasn’t a good enough warning for you, since you stupidly had him released so quickly.”

Darby took a couple steps toward Thomas, gun raised.

“Killing me won’t do anything. I got people in place to still ruin you.” Thomas stated, his tone flat.

Darby lowered his gun, a sickly calm smile spread across his face. It was an unsettling sight that made Tommy begin to think something was off.

“Oh Tommy boy, I’m just the distraction,” Darby’s eyes noticeably darkened, “How’s your wife these days?”

Tommy’s eyes widened and his finger pulled the trigger.

Darby fell to the ground dead, a bullet was lodged in the center of his forehead.

Then like a wave, the fighting began again.

As soon as the gunshot rang, Tommy saw red. He shot, punched, kicked or swung at anyone in his way as he fought to get out of the crowd. He didn’t bother shouting an explanation to his brothers as he ran to his car.

Tommy shoved his keys into the ignition and started the car. Tommy slammed his foot on the gas as soon as the engine roared to life. The car’s lights illuminated the carnage left from the battle. The Peaky Blinders were the last ones standing, as Tommy expected, but paid no mind to. His thoughts too consumed with conjuring the hundreds of horrible possibilities he might see upon arriving home, all ending with a bloodied image of Y/n.

John and Arthur ran towards the car, causing Thomas to slam on the breaks.

“Where are you going?” John asked urgently.

“They’re going for Y/n.” Thomas hastily replied.

John and Arthur jumped on the side of the car just in time before Tommy could speed up again.

Michael and Finn watched as the older Shelby boys passed them.

“Great. So we’re left to clean up the mess.”

At the house, Y/n held her book to her face as the door burst open. She turned her head and was met with the sight of a man pointing a gun at her. His clothes were clean and he looked very young. Her eyes flitted from the gun to his shoes, then to his eyes, then back to the gun.

“On your feet.” He demanded.

“What?” Y/n feigned innocence, despite her struggle to keep calm.

The man, gun still held towards her, trudged over and ripped the book from her hands, throwing it onto the floor.

“I said on your feet!” He yelled in her face, backing away so he was a few feet from the bed.

She stared into his eyes, an impassive look on her face. Y/n looked back down at the gun.

With a purse of her lips and a shrug she stated, “I’d rather not.”

The man’s soldier esc demeanor nearly slipped at her blatant defiance of his orders. “It’s not an option lady! Get up.”

She chuckled. “Y’see, lad. I’ve been on my feet all day. Have you ever worn heels for over six hours? Rather painful you know.”

Her cocky attitude betrayed her quickly beating heart that was full of adrenaline.

In an effort to scare her, he menacingly stepped forward. “I ain’t afraid to hurt you lady, but the boss wants you alive. If you keep disobeying me, I'm allowed to use force.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh really, and who is your boss? I must thank him for not wanting me dead.”

She knew she was playing with her life, but if this boy was as inexperienced as he looked, she would get the information she needed to warn Tommy. Granted, if she got out of this situation.

“Sabini.” The man bluntly answered.

Y/n swallowed. This wasn’t good. If Sabini’s men were here and not in London, she needed to warn Thomas immediately. Her heart pumped faster than she thought possible and every nerve in her body was on the verge of trembling from fear.

“I see.” Y/n turned her head to the foot of the bed. “Well, like I said, I’d rather not get up. Matter of fact, I’d rather keep reading. So be a dear and hand me my book, would ya?” She was stalling.

“C’mon lady, stop being stubborn. You don't even got a weapon to be making these demands.” The man sneered.

Y/n slowly adjusted herself so that she scooted away from the pillows that propped her up. She straightened her legs on the bed, her left crossed over her right. Then she leaned back on her arms, purposely pushing up her chest to show off her unbinded chest. Hopefully, he’d be dumb enough to look at her distraction, and he was.

“Ah, well. It was worth a shot. I can tell that you're new to this whole— kidnapping thing. If you want to get better at it then you should learn this.” She paused before looking back at the man, “Always do research on your target.”

The young man’s brows furrowed, obviously confused.

“If you did your research, like a good little gangster,” She began as she slid her left leg up off her right, causing her silk nightgown to slowly expose her leg. The man’s eyes roamed her leg once she stopped moving, leaving her left leg in a bent position. She reached for the hem of the dress and raised it further up her left leg, stopping until it got to her mid thigh, “Then you would know, that I’m always armed.”

In a swift and well practiced motion, Y/n grabbed the sharp, throwing knife from her thigh holster, and threw. The knife landed in the man’s chest, in his heart. Looking down at the knife, the man stumbled backwards, tripping over his own feet and falling onto his back. Blood quickly formed a growing splotch of red on his shirt. Y/n quickly stood from the bed to remove the gun from the man’s hand, she then crouched over him.

She placed her hand on the knife handle, “It was a shame you didn’t do your research.” Then she pushed the knife forward, until she felt through the blade that it had really punctured his heart.

Y/n stood over the man’s body, gun in her hand, and watched the blood puddle grow. She backed away until her knees hit the bed and gave way. Letting out a shaky breath, she sat with the gun in her lap. In an attempt to avoid looking at the body laid in front of her, Y/n stared at the ceiling.

The adrenaline began to wear off, and the reality of the situation dawned on her. She could have died, quite easily too. If her attacker had not been so inexperienced and if she wasn’t wanted brought back alive, she could have died. Then, she thought of her husband.

Tommy.

Had the man lying dead on her carpet opened the door and shot, Tommy would have had to come home to her dead body instead. The thought of Tommy finding her body, cold and bloody, scared her more than death. She couldn’t imagine the pain of him being alone. He would blame himself for her death. He would say he couldn’t protect her, and he would loathe himself for the rest of his life. Tears began to prick her eyes and her throat tightened. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the tears to go away and for her erratic heart beat to calm down.

She killed a man.

That’s the only thought she could process. Her emotions muddled her thinking. Never before had she used her knives to kill. She used guns, from far away. She used punches to knock people out. She used her knives to injure, but never before had she needed them to kill. She was slightly glad for the memory of Tommy coming back home from an errand, returning with the thin knife holster that he insisted she wear when he wasn’t home. She was also glad that she made it a rule for herself to never take it off unless Tommy was home with her.

Then, the silence of the house was broken again. She flinched. This time, the sound came from the front door slamming open and muffled shouts that she could only register as her name.

“Y/n! Y/n where are you?” The voice shouted.

She couldn’t pinpoint who it was, not in her boggled state of mind, but she knew it was safe. So she answered.

“In the bedroom.”

Her eyes were still shut and her head faced the ceiling when Tommy rushed in.

“Y/n.” His voice was slightly breathless as he took in the sight before him.

The room was covered in warm, candle light, giving a complete opposite tone to the tense atmosphere. His wife sat on the bed with a gun in her lap. A man, with his wife’s knife in his chest, laid dead on the ground and a puddle of blood surrounded his wound.

Y/n opened her eyes and looked at her husband. She could see the fear and worry that filled his eyes, his face in slight shock.

Thomas was relieved to see his wife unharmed, but he could see the tears that were threatening to fall. Her slumped shoulders were signs of exhaustion. The way her chest moved up and down with heavy breathes told him she was on the verge of holding herself together.

Arthur and John came bounding up the stairs next, and found their places on either side of Thomas.

Y/n’s voice came out void of emotion, but her teary eyes said it all. “One of Sabini’s men.” She stated before turning her eyes to the ceiling once more, trying to blink away tears. “Please get him out of my sight.” The growing puddle of blood made her want to throw up.

“You heard her,” Thomas said in a low tone, staring at his wife with concerned eyes. “Get rid of ‘em.” His voice was just above a whisper.

Arthur and John stepped forward, grabbing the man by his arms and lugged him out of the room. Only once the man had been removed did Thomas walk towards his wife. Only when he wrapped his arms around her did she let herself cry. She let herself sob and express how truly scared she was when the man burst into her room, and pointed a gun to her head.

Thomas held her close and kissed her head. He whispered in her ear that she was okay, and that she did what she needed to do. Holding her close, he told her he loved her, and promised to never let anything like that happen to her again.

Masterlist

well I tried

Edit: Bro this blew up in less than a day with 41 notes. Thank you♡

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mirkwoodshewolf · 4 years ago

Text

Panther Princess; T’Challa x child reader

*Author’s note*

Well this was a LONG time in the making, not only cause of motivation and time schedule wise but I wanted to make sure I GOT THIS FIC RIGHT since this is my first time writing for T'Challa since Chadwick's death last year (MAY HE RIP OUR KING!!!). Hope you guys enjoy this, and I’ve decided that after a few Wattpad requests I’ll open requests up here on Tumblr but there will be some MAJOR adjustments to what fandoms I’ll do. For now just be patient with me and eventually I will open requests here on Tumblr, I just don’t want to be overwhelmed.

Warnings: Malnourishment. abuse, terrorists involved (no action but just the word), some fluff.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@soy-guey

@queen-paladin

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

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It was in the dead of night when T’Challa received word about some smugglers were traveling with some stolen Vibranium, and word has it that they were working for Klaue. Even though he had been dead, Klaue’s business was still running and forging deals with terrorists groups and anti-government parties.

Him and Okoye were flying over towards the drop-off point where the dealers were gonna be exchanging their latest steal of Vibranium.

“The dealers that Klaus’ second Lt. Rosko Lannister is selling the Vibranium to come from an Iranian terrorist group.”

“As usual we will let them make their business transaction before taking any further action. After dealing with the terrorist group and Lannister is ours, he will be put under the same crimes as we would’ve given Klaue.” T’Challa told Okoye. She nodded as the jet continued to fly towards their destination.

It was just before sunset when at an old, abandoned warehouse Rosko Lannister and some of Klaue’s old men waited for their clients to arrive. Soon enough driving in the black SUV’s and Honda trucks, the Iranian terrorist group came out of their cars. Most of them were soldiers holding their AK-47’s close to their chest while out of the head van, 3 men dressed in full 3 piece suits exited the car.

They looked exactly alike for these three men were actually brothers. Two of them were twins and the other was a year younger than his older twin brothers. Hasim, Sami, and Achmed Israeli were the three leaders of the biggest terrorist group in the world. There was even record shown that they made deals with HYDRA back in the day. Mostly smuggled weapons and potential serums for super soldiers.

After the fall back in 2014 when both SHIELD and HYDRA were exposed, the brothers decided to go underground and disappear under the radar. The US and European governments have been trying to find them ever since but they are too clever and can easily cover their tracks both physically and wirelessly.

“The Israeli brothers. I can’t tell you how honored I am to be doing business with you.” Rosko praised.

“We didn’t come for praises. We came for the Vibranium. Do you have it?” the oldest twin brother Sami demanded.

“Getting down to business. That was one thing my former associate Klaue always appreciated. God rest his soul.” Rosko kissed his finger before raising them upward. “Nah I’m just kidding he was an arsehole, I’m actually glad he’s dead.” He changed his tune.

“The Vibranium. Do you have it or not!?” demanded the younger twin Hasim.

“Patience Hasim. Let the white man talk.” Sami eased his brother. Rosko turned to one of his guys and nodded. His left hand man let out a whistle and soon two men come carrying in a large box that was filled with the stolen Vibranium that Klaue had stowed away for himself.

The men set it down before the brothers and Achmed opened the case up to reveal the Vibranium they were looking for. A small smirk came across Sami’s face and he said.

“Excellent. The most powerful material in the universe.”

“It did come at personal cost from Klaue, better him than me. It’s worth billions. Hope you also kept your end of the deal. This transaction is only fair if both parties agree.” Hasim smirked cunningly and turned to his general.

He nodded and exclaimed in Muslim and before Rosko even knew it. Every single one of his men was shot dead by the Israeli brother’s soldiers, leaving only him alive.

Every gun was now turned on him and Rosko had no choice but to raise his hands slowly.

“True. But when dealing with terrorists you should’ve also realized that there is a price to pay. Especially if you’ve been followed.” Sami said. At this point Rosko was confused.

“What-what-what are you talking about?”

“I’ve been in this game for a long time Mr. Lannister, I’ve seen everything and heard it all. Superheroes, aliens, psychotic androids, even real life wizards. So don’t think for a second that your actions hasn’t risen suspicion to the one who rules the very place where you got this Vibranium from.” Sami closed the case and patted it before his brother Achmed took it and had it put in the truck.

“King T’Challa has no idea of this Vibranium that was stashed away. He’s recovered the traces of Vibranium that Klaue kept public. There’s no way he could know about this.”

“Clearly Klaue had a better game face than you Mr. Lannister. For he wouldn’t have revealed such an important fact to me.” At that moment Rosko knew he had been played by the brothers. Before he knew it, a bullet went straight into his head and he died right there.

“Surround the area. We don’t leave till the King is dead.” Ordered Achmed to his security team. The soldiers exclaimed Arabic commands as they surrounded the warehouse with their guns outward and ready to fire.

One guard in particular heard something move behind him and he quickly turned and fired three shots but didn’t hit anything but some old crates. His paranoia was getting the best of him and that’s what gave him away. He was suddenly grabbed by the back of his robes and lifted up and beaten till he collapsed to the floor unconscious.

2 more guards heard what was going on and went to check on their fallen soldier when a flash of a figure ran behind them. They quickly turned and fired their guns when suddenly T’Challa came down behind them, quickly disarmed them and knocked them unconscious.

As more of the brother’s security came in and they open fired on T’Challa, he merely walked towards the security before sprinting forward and disarming the rest of them. His claws tearing their guns apart, and using his quick ‘cat-like’ agility, he managed to take down the entire fleet.

“Israeli brothers!” he cried out. It was then Sami came out and T’Challa revealed his face to the eldest brother.

“King T’Challa. I must say it is an honor to be in your presence.” Sami mocked.

“Did you really believe we would be unaware of this trade?”

“On the contrary, I expected this all along. It was that witless white monkey Rosko who didn’t expect to see you. But never fear, he’s out of both of our hands.” Sami said nonchalantly as he looked down at his nails.

“If you surrender the stolen Vibranium to me, we can resolve this peacefully. But refuse, and you’ll face justice of Wakanda in Rosko Lannister’s stand. You and your brothers.”

“See my brothers and I made a pact. If we can’t escape the system, we’d be—how you say, judge jury and executioner to ourselves. And rather than rot in a cell separated, we shall join together in a blaze of glory. And we’re not afraid to take you with us, suffering the same fate as your own father did.” Sami raised his arms out like he was flying and waiting for a fiery explosion to happen.

But nothing came.

He opened his eyes to reveal that nothing had happened. It was then coming into the open space were Ayo and Okoye who had Sami’s younger brothers. Both men were bruised and battered up pretty badly. The two Dora Milaje members dropped his brothers down at his feet like trash and T’Challa said.

“I told you. This could’ve been resolved peacefully. But you forced our hand, especially when you had planned to blow up the place with all of us inside.” Sami growled but nonetheless raised his hands in surrender.

As the Dora Milaje were detaining the three brothers, T’Challa retrieved the stolen Vibranium when he heard something nearby. It sounded like chains, they had defeated all of the security, Rosko and his men were all shot by the Israeli brother’s defense, and the brothers were all detained so who else was here?

“My King?” Okoye asked.

“Stay here Okoye, I want to check something out.” He told his general of the Dora Milaje.

“My king, it could be another threat we do not yet know about. Let me come with you.”

“I’m not defenseless Okoye. Now you and Ayo just put the men on the ship and let me handle this. It could be some animal or the chains fell down off of something.” Okoye nodded to her king and soon T’Challa headed deeper into the warehouse.

As he explored every bit of it, he soon noticed that there appeared to be a hidden door within the walls that was very faintly cracked open. He opened the door and could hear the sound of the chains getting louder and louder.

It was almost like they were—pacing? They kept a constant rhythm as they would move about, in a circle pattern or something close to it. T’Challa slowly walked towards the direction of the chains and soon found what appeared to be a cage. A glass cage but it was inside that surprised the Wakandan King.

Inside the glass was a child. She appeared to be around the ages of 8-11 years old. Her hair was extremely long and madded like a lion’s mane. She looked malnourished so much so that you could almost see her bones. But for being malnourished, how could she have the energy to pace so frantically like she was now? He also noticed that there around her neck, wrists and ankles were chains keeping her inside.

T’Challa slowly walked out of the shadows and into the light where the child would be able to see him. She stopped her pacing and just stared at him curiously. T’Challa disengaged his full Black Panther suit so that he was in his normal clothes.

“I am not here to hurt you.” He gently told the child. The child slightly tilted their head like a lost puppy. “My name is T’Challa, what’s yours?” T’Challa slowly and slowly got closer and closer to her cage as he spoke in that soft voice of his. When she didn’t answer him he assured you, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I just want to be sure you’re okay.”

Suddenly in the blink of an eye, her (e/c) soon turned to a deep cat eye yellow. Her body shifted into a fairly young but still decent size panther and she lashed out at the cage, knocking T’Challa off his feet in slight fear. The child now standing before him as a full panther clawed and roared at the cage furiously.

“My King!” Ayo’s voice spoke in Xhosa and soon her and Okoye came in and when they saw the panther, they lifted up their spears in defense.

“Stand down!” T’Challa commanded them.

“But my king—this animal is feral. It was going to kill you.” Okoye reasoned with him but T’Challa told her.

“She is a human child. She shifted into this panther before my eyes. Look.” Soon enough the panther shrunk down and soon turned back into the young girl who was still pacing back and forth in her cage.

“What sorcery is this?” asked Ayo.

“Not magic. Science. Look closer at her arms.” T’Challa said. At the section of the arm on the other side of the elbow, they noticed dozens of needle injection scars.

“This child was experimented on.” Okoye said grimly with a horrified expression.

“What do we do my King?” asked Ayo. T’Challa looked at the child who was growling and trying to act scary even though she was no longer a panther anymore.

“We take her to Shuri. Maybe she can shed more light on the matter. Get her to the ship. But approach her cautiously. Don’t make any sudden movements.” Ayo and Okoye bowed their heads to their king and walked towards the cage.

The girl would hit her skeletal body up against the cage trying to rattle it and actually roared out a panther’s real roar, her teeth slowly growing into the large infamous canines of a real big cat. Okoye and Ayo then placed a hover bead on each end of the cage and soon the cage levitated just a few feet off the ground.

The little girl roared and began clawing at the glass but it hardly did anything as she was now being guided towards the ship.

When they reached Wakanda after dealing with the brothers, Shuri in her lab was going over the girl’s intel scan that she made of the girl from her cage with her kimoyo beads.

“So what is it you can find Shuri?” T’Challa said as he entered his sister’s lab.

“This may come as a surprise to you brother. But—she has no birth record at all. I’ve contacted some of my people in various places around the world to see if there has been any missing child and all of them have said no. My theory is that she may have been created from a test tube to look like this.”

“Any idea who could’ve made her?”

“The same organization that made the White Wolf into the Winter Soldier.”

“Hydra.” T’Challa said gravely. Shuri nodded.

“I hacked into their old files and it only confirms my theory. Seems like they wanted to create their own Cat-god or something.”

“Any records on what her powers are? She can shift into a panther but can she also shift into anything else?”

“I’m still digging through the files, there’s a lot of files that came to creating her. It’ll take time brother.” T’Challa nodded in understandment.

“Keep me updated.”

“Yes brother.” T’Challa walked away but he turned back towards the young girl and saw that she had briefly stopped her pacing to look at him once again.

A week later after finding the child, Shuri managed to dig up that HYDRA’s plan for the Child was for her to become their Agent Battle Cat. The ability to shift into a panther. She also has enhanced agility, speed, and strength.

However when HYDRA fell back in 2014, they were forced to abandon the project and she had been left alone in that warehouse ever since. Thinking about the enhancing experiments she must’ve been forced to endure or whatever genes they gave her, it allowed her to survive even being chained up in a cage for years on end until she felt like she needed to give up.

While being kept under his sister’s supervision, T’Challa also made it apparent to try and communicate with the Child, just to see if she could either understand or (in a rare case) speak in any language. The first time he had tried to talk to her well—let’s just say she ended up with broken nails and chipped teeth after trying to take a bite of T’Challa’s forearm when he activated his suit to protect his arm from her attack.

He had finally finished his royal civic duties for the day when he decided to try and talk to the Child again.

“You sure it’s a good idea brother? You did cause her to lose her nails and chipped some of her teeth.”

“I learned my lesson last time. But you weren’t there before that happened. She had actually dropped her guard and almost looked like she wanted to communicate with me. I think I’m getting through to her.”

“Okay brother. But if she attacks you again, I doubt that’ll sit well with Mother as well as Okoye and Ayo.”

“I will handle mama and the Dora Milaje. For now see to it that no one disturbs us.” Shuri nodded and told her workers to go home for now, leaving T’Challa and the Child alone.

T’Challa slowly approached her cage to see her lying down on her side licking her broken nails. Some of them had broken off by the top, while the rest had the entire nail broken leaving a bloody mess in it’s wake. She was currently licking her blood stained fingertips when she caught T’Challa’s scent.

She growled and hissed angrily at him, her canine fangs extended out and her eyes shifted into the cold, yellow panther eyes.

“Steady, steady. I’m not here to hurt you.” T’Challa sat down a few feet away from the cage and continued, “I am sorry for what happened to you. I was only protecting myself from getting hurt. It was my fault for overstepping my boundaries.” Her hissing ceased and she closed her mouth hiding her fangs but she would occasionally growl lowly, her tail coming out and twitching anxiously.

They sat there in silence for a couple of minutes when T’Challa said to her.

“You know, I’ve been thinking of a name for you. You know something to call you. I’m betting the men who created you never really gave you a real human name. What do you think about—Ariana?” the Child hissed. T’Challa chuckled, “Didn’t think so. Shuri said you might like it but now I can prove to her that I was right. Now for the real options, what about…….Nala?” the child tilted her head confused. “No? What about…..Diana?” she looked down and went back to licking her fingertips. “That won’t really help them heal. Sure it’ll clot the blood but it’s not that good for saliva to heal a wound like that.”

She looked up at T’Challa and growled lowly.

“I’m just trying to help. We have the medicine that’ll help you. I won’t lie it might sting for a brief second but it’ll help. Will you trust me with healing you, please?” the child looked between him and her fingers before slowly extending her arms out and she briefly nodded.

T’Challa then got some antiseptic and band-aids. He opened up a small section of the cage, just enough for her arms to come out.

“Thank you for your trust.” He then began to doctor her fingertips. She let out some painful roars on the stubbed fingertips that no longer had a nail anymore but at least this time she didn’t try to attack him like last time. He soothed her with calming phrases like ‘it’s okay. It’s won’t last long.’ And ‘Just relax, it’s almost over.’ After bandaging up her left pinkie finger he told her, “There, I’m done (Y/n).”

At hearing that name, she looked up at T’Challa curiously. Her tail perked up and the tip curled inward. T’Challa looked at her to see her tail fall limp to the cage floor. “(Y/n)?” her tail lifted up again and her head tilted curiously. “So you like that name eh?” She looked at T’Challa and her nose twitched as she was trying to sniff him through the glass.

Taking a risk, he slowly reached his hand into the cage once more like before. However this time he kept his hand in a downward position, so that his hand formed the shape of another cat’s nose. The Child slowly crept towards his hand and gave it a sniff, when she saw that he wasn’t moving his hand, she rubbed her head against his hand for a brief second before nuzzling underneath his palm so that it sat on top of her head.

He gently began scratching her scalp which caused her to let out soft comforting purrs. T’Challa smiled warmly and continued to gently give the child—well (Y/n) some more scritches and pets.

“Don’t you worry (Y/n). I promise I won’t allow anyone else to harm you in any shape or form.”

The next couple of months after getting her body weight back to normal and healing any other wounds she had maintained, T’Challa allowed (Y/n) to venture outside the palace with him. Thinking the city itself was too much for her right now, he decided to take her out to the Border tribe so that she could see the outside world for the first time in her life.

Needless to say she was overwhelmed but she was happy to feel the grass beneath her feet, see the beautiful landscape, and hear all the sounds of the outside world from the animal calls to some of the Border tribe members talking with each other.

“Seems she’s getting along well.” Okoye observed (Y/n) who was cautiously watching the rhinos from their pins.

“Slowly but surely she is. Walking on two feet is still a bit of a challenge but she’ll get there eventually.” T’Challa told her.

“At least she’s learned to not attack you.”

“It was one time Okoye, be nice.”

“As your General it is my duty—”

“I understand your duty General. But you must also know that there will be times you can’t protect me. And this attack was very minor compared to the fights I’ve been in before.” It was then T’Challa saw (Y/n) now focusing her attention on some birds that had just landed a few feet away from the rhino pins. Her panther instincts kicked in as she got into pouncing position, her pupils were fully blown and her shoulder blades flexed over one another as her butt raised higher and higher in the air.

Finally she raced forward and the birds immediately took off flying. She leaped well over 7ft in the air and managed to capture a bird in her claws and delivered a fatal bite. She then raced over to T’Challa and presented him the dead bird.

She placed it on the ground before his feet and backed away before tilting her head with a happy smile on her face.

“Seems she has a gift for you my King.” Okoye said. T’Challa grimaced at the gift but he quickly smiled down at her and knelt down in front of her.

“I appreciate the gift (Y/n). But—we cannot keep this bird kept within a cage. Like how I freed you, we must also allow this bird to move onto the next life.” He dug into the earth for a small shallow grave, just big enough for the bird and he placed the bird into the makeshift grave. He buried it under the earth and he sent a brief prayer to Bast in Wakandan. “Right, now let’s head back to the palace. I have a meeting with M’Baku about reforging our alliance and allowing the Jabari tribe into the council.”

Okoye and T’Challa walked ahead when they heard something behind them. At first they thought it was one of the goats but it sounded to hoarse to be one of them. They slowly turned around and saw (Y/n) with a hand over the grave of the bird and she was saying.

“Ba……Ba.”

“Is she……?” Okoye started.

“Ba.” (Y/n) was trying to talk! She was trying to say the Cat goddess Bast’s name. She managed to get out the first constant and vowel but she couldn’t figure out how to do her S and T.

“Her first time talking. She’s trying to say Bast’s name.” T’Challa knelt down and he asked her, “(Y/n), are you trying to give a prayer to Bast?”

“Ba!” she exclaimed again. T’Challa was overjoyed on the inside that the girl he had decided to take under his wing and raise was finally trying to talk. Many of the tutors he and Shuri had growing up had given up saying that she was incapable of speaking because all she did was just hiss and growl as well as throw things at them before laughing like a deranged hyena.

“Here I’ll help you say her name.” he adjusted himself so that he sat down and he placed his hand right next to hers and he said slowly so that she could see how his lips did it. “Say Bast.”

“Ba.”

“Bast.”

“Ba.” T’Challa shook his head.

“Watch me carefully. Bast.” He enunciated the t at the end. (Y/n) growled lowly before taking a deep inhale and finally exclaiming.

“BAST!”

“Yes. Yes that’s it! You did it (Y/n) great job!” at seeing T’Challa’s excitement, (Y/n) began to repeat Bast’s name gleefully as she pranced around.

“A little cocky there isn’t she?” Okoye muttered.

“Let her have this moment Okoye. Besides probably hunting and killing, this is her first real big achievement. A normal milestone.”

“I suppose so.” She agreed. Even though she might not have wanted to admit it, she thought it was adorable how little (Y/n) was finally able to speak a human language and become so happy with herself that she would prance around like a yearling antelope.

Over the next couple of years, (Y/n) continued to not only advance in her human speaking skills, but she now began to show signs of aging. She went from that small child to now almost a young adult woman in just 2 years since finding her. Seemed with the animal enhancement, it also increased her human aging with each time she grew stronger and tougher.

T’Challa continued to raise her as his own and pretty soon all of Wakanda looked at her as their young Princess. Shuri loved hanging out with (Y/n) and teaching her everything there was to know about science and technology. She even took her as an apprentice in her lab. Okoye eventually came around and soon saw (Y/n) as a member of the royal family and took it upon herself to train her like a Dora Milaje so that she could defend herself without the need of her animal powers.

For she was the Panther Princess.

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