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sinning-23 · 1 year ago

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Record Player

Peter Quill x Black!Reader

Warmings: 18+ Mature content ahead

Okay so I may or may not have been fighting the urge to write forrrr GOTG so uhhhh TAKE THIS

Also this turned into some smut by accident lmao sooo 18+ MINORS DNI

Perhaps it was the fact that it was a simple, sunny, Sunday afternoon, and the stars in whatever galaxy you were in illuminated the ship in a light almost like golden hour, but you couldn't help but want to put your records on. As someone with impeccable music taste, there were never any complaints as to what you played on the speakers of the ship, the sounds of Whitney Houston and Luther Vandross fill the silence on occasion. Today was different though. You wanted something that'd make you feel warm, something that would make the hours in space fly by even faster than before.

You smile, lifting the needle of the player gently, grabbing one of your latest albums, placing the record down with ease, manicured nails gently around the edges when you drop the needle again.

"Who is it this time?" Rocket questions, grabbing tools from the selves and draws awaiting an answer.

You smile, moving to the volume knob and turning it up as loud as it could go. If anyone was asleep still, they were definitely awake now.

"A group my grandma used to listen to, Earth, Wind, and Fire. Sound nice huh? Picked it up that last mission." You explain, moving to set the next coordinates on the ship, placing it on autopilot.

Rocket only nods, as Mantis steps into the space, eyes widening at the new sound.

"This doesn't sound like one of Peter's tapes?" She quips, looking towards you for an explanation.

"Cause it's not." You speak along with another voice, your head whipping around to see the subject himself leaning against the doorway.

Music was one of the many things you and Quill managed to bond over, aside from being the only two terrans on the ship. You both enjoyed the simpler things from your home. You shared your music, and he shared his. Often on nights when there was no sleep for either of you, just your thoughts and each other's company. You wouldn't lie and say there hadn't been times that had gotten so much more intimate than friends would ever. Sometimes he'd cling to you, hands finding their way clutching the fabric of your nightshirt, face buried in your chest, breaths heavy with sleep.

He'd wake up, unwilling to acknowledge the action, only keeping his distance until you needed him, your own hands clutching his arms as if he'd disappear. Sometimes keeping your face in his neck, fingers tangled in his curls. Or, until he needed you. It was like some unspoken rule and agreement to keep your mouths shut until there was too much tension and you'd burst with some sort of confession or explanation.

But for now, while your record played, you'd stare at each other only for a moment.

"I set the coordinates already, we're on autopilot right now." You explain, placing your hand on his chest before brushing past him a bit to exit the room.

He only nods, fighting the urge to watch you walk away. God, he loved the way you walked, the way you spoke, breathed, stared...everything. He liked how soft you felt under him some nights when his hands traveled farther than he first intended. he loved that when he crept into your quarters all hours of the night you didn't question, just opened your arms for him to lay in. And oh did he love that music was your outlet.

He lets the record play, a soft smile gracing his features as Mantis studies this.

"You like her don't you!?" She yelps, eyes wide as Peter's head whips around and he shushes her.

"Whoa whoa whoa where did that come from?" He responded back, Rocket deciding to cut in the conversation.

"I mean it's really obvious. You're not slick either, you spend more time in each other's rooms than you do your own." Rocket notes, finally taking his leave as Mantis does the same.

Was it that obvious? Well, it wasn't like you two didn't spend increasing amounts of time together. Maybe the lingering touches were a giveaway. Or maybe it was the way he looked at you when you fought like you cared less about the danger you were in and more about saving the people you loved and innocents. Perhaps it was the way you always held his waist to scoot past him, or how you grazed his hand with your own when you were searching for the next place to go.

Damn, maybe it was kind of obvious...well if it was maybe you'd picked up on it? You two were closer than friends but...what if you didn't feel like that? Maybe you held all your friends like that and were just a touchy person? No no that didn't even sound right.

He follows the exact path you went, hearing you hum now. Of course, this would play at a time like this. the lyric burns into his head as he follows the sound of your voice.

"You can't pretend there's nothing there." Your voice is growing closer now, the shuffling from your room becoming louder as you continue to sing.

"You want my love, well I betCHAAA JESUS PETER!" You screech, heaving from the shock of seeing him standing in your doorway.

He's immediately sympathetic, hands outstretched in a 'whoa whoa I'm sorry" stance as he tried to calm you.

"If I was being too loud you could've just turned the record down." You joke, swallowing at the flutter in your stomach. Had he heard you? You prayed not.

"No, that's not it, I just..." He was struggling to find the words now, the lump in his throat suffocating.

Why was it so hard to speak to you? It had to be the way your eyes were wide when he spoke...like you were clinging to every word. Or how your glossed lips were parted slightly, only being tucked between those pretty white teeth when you got anxious about his next words, like right now.

"I like the record, that's all. I can always count on you to play something good." He explains, avoiding what he really wanted to say. You can tell though, grabbing his wrist before he had the chance to leave.

"Thats not what you wanted to say Peter." You implored, tugging him to sit with you, and he does so blindly, letting your hand interlock with his own.

"This...what is this?" He asks, lifting your intertwined fingers.

You falter momentarily, trying to find a lie to cover up but he stops you, caging yours body almost, his free hand coming to rest on the other side of you.

"I...We...Peter, I really do like you. I love being around you and having you close to me and I love that we can do things that friends initially don't... but I want more than that. I want to kiss you when you come to me at night for comfort without feeling like something is at risk." You explain, feeling hot under his intense gaze.

"Then do it, I'm telling you now that nothing is at risk. I wish you would just do what you wanted with me. I hate only having to keep my hands in one place. I wanna feel you y/n." He confesses, your bodies becoming closer by the second.

Him leaning into you and you find yourself mimicking the action letting him lean you back against the soft mattress, pulling your legs to either side of him. Your arms are around his neck now, the feeling of your lips against his fills you with sparks. His facial hair is slightly rough in contrast to how soft your skin is, and he can finally sink his teeth into you after fighting it for so long.

"The door," You whine, fingers once again tangled in those curls. It's no use though, he doesn't want to let go yet, tapping your thigh as to get you to lock them around him. When you do, he lifts you, large hands squeezing the underside of your thighs before he kicks the door shut.

“How long have you wanted more?” He begs, letting you feel up under his shirt, strategically pulling it off. It was only a matter of time before you both were to be undressed.

“Too long to keep track of.” You respond, latching to his neck, sucking hard enough to turn the skin a bit red. It'd be darker soon.

“I need numbers, i know you keep track of stuff like that. Tell me.” He demands, hiking up your skirt, hesitant when he feels the fabric of your panties.

“I-I don't know.” You lie, avoiding his eyes. He knows your lying but he also knows how to get the truth from you.

“Yes, you do,” He begins, pressing his thumb down against your clit over the fabric, the pressure making you gasp a bit.

“And I know how to get you to answer me.” He states, pulling them to the side before kessing kisses to your lips, skillfully pushing two fingers into you, catching the moan that leaves your lips with anothe kiss.

“Tell me how long and I’ll move. Its easy enough.” He explains, still keeping his finger still, letting you squirm and squeeze against them.

“Six months ago, now please, please move.” You moan, feeling him smirk against your neck.

“Atta girl.” He chides, finally giving you the satisfaction of feeling his fingers pump into you, all the while still rubbing calculated and soft circles around your clit. He drinks up your moans, taking time with his free hand to lift your shirt, now exposing your chest.

He'd only touched once before, tipsy and trying to find something to ground him. You'd keep him close, stroking his hair, feeling his hands wander under your boobs, and he kept them there, the contrast of rough calloused hands against smooth, soft, shea butter-lathered skin amazed him. He manage to keep his hands from squeezing or touching more than what was appropriate, hell that had even been too much. You hadn't protested though, letting him ground himself as much as he needed to get through the night. Of course, if he got too comfortable you’d let him know but…this had been just enough.

This was different though, both of you in your right mind, and eager to feel parts you had never been able to before. Your holding onto his arms tiger now, that impending orgasm creeping closer and closer around the corner and he knows.

There's so much to touch, to feel, to stare at. He wishes he could stay like this forever, just exploring you, every inch of your mind, body, and soul, hoping you'd explore him in return, touching spots he’d long forgotten brought him comfort, asked him things that’d make him feel so much smaller than he really was, attach yourself to him any way you could leave a mark that'd be permanent.

Your legs are shaking now, wetness sliding down your legs and onto his hand, his name spilling like a prayer from your lips. His breaths are shaky and hot against your chest and she kisses, sucks, and bites whatever spot he can latch to. He can feel you, legs tightening when he doesn't stop, your pussy squeezing his fingers as you gush over them. The way you moan his name and grab his wrist in an attempt to make the pleasure slow.

“Feels good?” He asks against your skin, ignoring the strain against his jeans. That wasnt his priority now.

You can only nod, breaths heavy as you try to flip over, a bit weak from before but he helps you get to wher you want.

“Your turn.” You hum, straddling him now, your lower half just above his pants waistline. He wants to protest but before he can get any words out youre lips are quick against his, your free hand skillfully undoing his belt and zipper.

He's quiet for a bit, only watching you, his eyes moving around your frame, taking in the curve of your body, how your locs fall down past your shoulders and to the middle of your back. He drinks in the sight of you.

“Youre so beautiful…” he whispers, sitting up now to try and speed up the process. Though he wanted to take things slow, he was becoming more and more impatient to be inside you.

Youre both covered in splotches of purple and marron, the mprints of teeth still fresh in your skin. Its not quick when it happens but its enough to still catch you off guard. He lifts your hips, the tip sliding against your wetness, its enough to make you both gasp, his grip on his hips tightening when you tug his hair in response. You sink down, the stretch making you sigh, you eyes squeezed shut.

“Fuck, you okay?” Peter confirms, still trying to adjust to how you squeezed around him. His hips move only slightly, and its enough to make you moan. You only nod, grinding down a bit, only making him squeeze harder, the imprint of his nails now visible on the plush of yout hips. You needed him to move, your body hot and awaiting something, anything.

“Move, fuck, please Peter I need you.” You beg, lifting your hips, them bringing them right back down, the feeling making you lean your head back.

You can hear him mumble something under his breath, it's laced with a moan though and he thrust upward into you, his pace now being set. Your record is still going in the control room, the sound faint when it's covered up by moans and squelching from each time Peter bucks into you. You can help but have your nails rake down his back, his thrust speeding up at the feeling.

“You feel, so good. So so good.” He repeats, breathing heavily with his forehead resting against your shoulder. It's almost too much, your last orgasm only amplifying the build of the next.

“D-Dont stop, please.” You beg, trying to keep it together for him, squeezing more and more the closer you get to release.

“Squeezing, fuck. I won't stop, I promise.” He whispers, trying his damndest not to finish so quick.

Why did you have that effect on him? It was getting increasingly harder to not have his hips stuffer when you arched your back, pressing your chest to his. You can tell, seeing him close his eyes, trying to focus on you, and now how badly he needs this.

“Stop trying to hold back, you can cum, I want you to.” You reveal, pulling him in closer, sinking your hips down onto him then lifting again, repeating the process.

It was his turn to repeat your name, the shaken version of it filling your ears when he quickly pulls out, his cum spilling onto your thighs and sliding back don onto the sheets. Theres a prief silence wish is only filled by your breaths. Your record had long stopped playing now, and al you wanted to do was hold him and listen to his heart slow.

“Feel good?” You tease, his eyes dazed and his pupils blown wide. He swallows hard, noddign at your statement.

“Your record stopped.” He notices, and you nod in response.

“Yeah, i dont think it covered up the last 15 minutes of that.” You chuckle, still holding him as your thighs begin to burn from being in this positionfor so long.

“Still worried about our friendship being at risk? Id much rather just move to being yours.” He suggest, fingers toying with your locs now.

“Yeah, im prefer that.” You agree, kissing him again, your bodies pressed closer then ever, the warmth of eachother skin making you melt.

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ALRIIIGHT so there's that. It ended up being smut in the end but uhhh yeah. I'm most likely gonna write more and maybe make it angsty but we’ll see :D ALSO uhhh i got some more stuff in the Marvel universe being worked on which means the Marvel masterlist will be open for businesses lmao. Hope yall enjoyed and until next time my dudes

#x reader #star lord #guardians of the galaxy #peter quill #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #guardians of the galaxy 2 #guardians of the galaxy 3 #gotg #reader is black #x black reader #x black fem reader

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marchtothefuckingsea · 3 years ago

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Strain(ed) - Leonard McCoy

Another McCoy fic, though this one is pretty short in my opinion. Or at least compared to my other fics lmao. Wrote this as a bit of a self comfort thing to be honest but thought I'd post it anyways. why not?

I'll admit the ending is a bit awkward on this one as I wasn't really sure how to end it but the rest seems okay!

I'll also admit i am not quite sure if this was proofread or not lmao

My Masterlist, if you're interested!

Fluff, comfort, overworked reader, no usage of y/n.

x gender neutral reader!

Word Count: 1200 give or take

Warnings: none. If I made a mistake here please let me know!

Summary: During an outbreak of a mysterious virus on the Enterprise, reader (who is also a doctor) works themself down to the bones (pun may be intended). McCoy is there to reassure them and get them to wind down and rest.

"Fuck." I sighed, running my hand through my hair. Yet another person had come into medbay this morning with the mysterious infection, this time though, with slightly different symptoms.

"McCoy." I called. "Come over here, look at this." I pointed at the patient records on the screen as he leaned over my shoulder. "I think we've got another strain running around here."

"Damnit." He muttered, turning away.

"Look, I don't know for sure, maybe he's just reacting differently to it, but so far everyone has shown the exact same symptoms as well as severity, no matter how prolonged their exposure to it was."

"No. No, you're right. And look here," He said, pointing at the screen, the microscopic samples of the bacteria. "See how this part is slightly different to the other?"

"Yeah I caught that. I don't know, Bones." I sighed.

"I don't know either but we need to figure this out. Soon." He glanced back with a sigh as faint sounds of coughing came through the door. He turned away again, throwing his mask and gloves on before heading out.

We weren't exactly sure how it spread yet but we had determined it wasn't respiratory or spread by infected surfaces thankfully.

But that meant we had absolutely no clue how it spread. It wasn't person to person either, as some people who came down with it hadn't even come into contact with the members of the away party.

The infections seemed completely random.

That left so many options on the table. It was puzzling but most of all overwhelming.

Fortunately it didn't seem deadly, at least not yet. Everyone who had come down with it seemed like they would rapidly get worse before finally hitting the peak and staying there.

That meant the Enterprise was extremely short-handed. Crew from all sections had come down with it. Almost half of the entire crew on the Enterprise were sick.

M'Benga had come down with the infection as well and was in pretty bad condition so that left only McCoy and I to deal with half of the ship. We were both overworked to say the very least.

I shuffled some paperwork around while sipping on my fifth cup of coffee that morning. I hadn't slept in two days.

McCoy had arrived only a couple hours prior, immediately getting to work. I was supposed to be off duty now but there was no way I could leave him to deal with all of this by himself.

I chugged down the rest of the cup, abruptly standing up and crossing the room for another cup, swaying on my feet.

I didn't even bother to put anything in it at this point, chugging half of the cup down black before refilling the cup and setting it on the desk. I grabbed a PADD and flopped back down into the chair. After a few moments of reading over the same patient files for the fifth time, I realized I was blankly staring at the screen.

I blinked, my vision blurry. I blinked harder, it cleared slightly. I shakily picked up my coffee cup and sipped more of it, suddenly feeling nauseous.

I yawned, slumping over the table and resting my head on my forearms tiredly.

Just for a second, I told myself. Just until the sick feeling passes.

What felt like only seconds later, a warm hand gently shook me awake.

"Hm?" I hummed.

"Darlin'. You've gotta wake up you're gonna be achin' all over if you sleep like that." He said softly.

"Leonard?" I turned my head to the side in my arms, lazily blinking my eyes open. I suddenly shot upwards into a sitting position. "Oh my god I'm so sorry." I stood up, stumbling a bit before making a beeline to the coffee maker. McCoy had insisted on having a "good old fashioned coffee maker" instead of the replicator. I had agreed. Nothing could compete.

He stepped in front of me, blocking my way to my precious energy source. "Leonard I'm so sorry I didn't mean to fall asleep that was so stupid I-"

"Hey. Slow down. You're shakin'." He gently rested his hands on my shoulders.

"Yeah I need coffee and I'll get right back to it I'm sorry." I apologized again, trying to step around him. He stepped in front of me again, purposely blocking my way.

"I think you've had too much of that already. How long has it been since you got any sleep?"

I ignored his question. "Look I need some energy, I'm fine. Just a little tired. It won't happen again. That wasn't fair to you."

"Sweetheart you're supposed to be off-duty anyway. Now tell me," His voice softened as he tenderly pulled me into a hug. "How long has it been since you slept?"

I couldn't help but relax into him, sighing. "Almost three days." I mumbled.

"Darlin' I- That's no good."

"I know it's just- I couldn't leave you to do all this by yourself. While you were taking care of everyone I thought maybe I could be of some help finding a cure." I leaned further into him, exhaustion pulling at me.

"You're a doctor right?" He pulling away from the hug but kept his hold on me, supporting me as he led me over to the cot in the corner.

"I- what? Yeah, I guess. Why?" He sat down on the cot, pulling me with him. He pulled me into his chest. I relaxed into him.

"Then you know how bad this is for you." I glance up at him, questioning.

"You've been runnin' on nothing but caffeine, you haven't slept in days." He continued. "You're majorly overworking yourself."

"So have you-" I started to argue.

"But I've been getting rest." He retorted. He softly rubbed my arm. We sat there in silence for a moment, my eyes started to drift shut.

"No," He shook me. "You're going to sleep in a real bed back in your quarters." He stood up, pulling me along with him. I stumbled but he caught me. "I'm takin' you."

"I can take myself." I insisted. "Tend to your patients."

"They can wait. I'm afraid you won't make it back to your quarters without collapsin' in the hallway." I couldn't argue with that, I was barely standing on my own two feet.

"C'mon." He looped his arm around my waist, guiding me out of the office. We shuffled out of medbay.

He punched in the access code to my room, helping me over to the couch. He unwound his arm from me and I slumped back into the couch. "Wait." He said, moving out of my view. My eyes drooped.

He returned quickly with a glass of water. "Drink." He instructed, handing it to me. I took a tentative sip before chugging it down, not realizing how thirsty I was. I was extremely dehydrated. "Careful, don't wanna get sick."

"I'm fine." I shakily tried to stand up before he pushed me back down onto the sofa. "Stay here. I'll get it."

He came back with another full glass of water. This time, I took my time with it. "Thank you."

"Of course sweetheart." His comm buzzed. "Shit." He muttered. "I've gotta go."

"'s okay. Thank you again."

"Get some rest alright darlin'?" He smiled. "Doctor's orders." I huffed out a laugh at that.

"Fuck you." I joked. I was feeling better after the water but I knew I still needed sleep.

The doors hissed as they slid shut behind him. I curled up into the couch, ignoring what he had said about 'awkward sleeping positions', drifting off to sleep.

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silvanils · 3 years ago

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Hello! For DADWC: “I didn’t want to tell you like this, but I have no choice" for anyone you want?

@dadrunkwriting

So I built this entire fic off the THEME of troubling revelations and having little choice in how they get discussed, which I hope works! (I tried to get the exact words in there, somewhere, but it just didn't feel natural. Oh well!)

Word Count: 1,317 Rating: T - deals with grief and loss Pairing(s): The Scholar/The Wayward Bard

In the small hours of the morning, a tired Mouse wandered the halls of the Thousand-Windowed Castle. None of the servants were awake, and the guards were elsewhere — the only company he had was one of the chateau’s cats. Black as a void, she was, shadowing him as he meandered toward the one place that had always been his sanctuary.

The library in the Tilted Tower was cool and drafty, but as a child he’d smuggled in wool blankets and soft pillows to make himself a comfortable nest beside one of the windows.

It depicted a handsome knight fighting against a dragon, surrounded by thorny brambles. Both were wounded — bright ruby streams broke up the dark colors of the dragon’s hide and the knight’s gleaming armor.

The little Mouse had never been able to decide who should win that battle. Dragons, after all, preferred to be left alone. Is it so odd, he thought bitterly, that I have always related more to the monsters?

He took a seat there, in his old place, and pulled his legs up close before he opened the window. It was on the westernmost side of the castle, facing the old forest. Both moons were rising over the dark trees, a sudden gust of wind moving through their leaves like a silver wave.

Come, the wind called. Closer.

Mouse shivered as he leaned back again. It was summer, so the night was not particularly cold, but there had always been something uniquely chilling about the nights when the forest was restless.

And out there, somewhere, was…

“Great Maker,” the Wayward Bard groaned, panting as he leaned against the library’s door. He was severely underdressed — wearing nothing but a thin robe, tied loosely at his waist... no mask covering his weary, worried eyes.

Mouse wasn’t wearing his mask, either. He had not wanted to be the Marquis tonight — just a young man with no role to fill. But the Bard’s presence made him sit a little straighter. “I didn’t intend to frighten you,” Mouse said, slowly, keeping his face serene and composed.

“Frighten me? Ha!” The Bard scoffed. But then he wilted a little, pressing a hand against his temple. “Am I so transparent?”

“You look as though you’ve spied a ghost,” Mouse mused.

The Bard pursed his lips as he studied his Marquis, uncharacteristically silent. He moved closer, hesitant, and took a seat beside Mouse with a dramatic, exhausted sigh.

“Perhaps I have,” he said, his voice a hushed whisper. “Tonight, before I woke and found you gone… I dreamt of your sister. She was a fae thing, though, a twisted mockery of our Huntress.”

Mouse felt another chill creep up his spine. Hair like vines, trailing after her. Branching horns sprouted from her head. Hands reaching out for him in a silent plea. But what was it she wanted…?

“I saw her, too,” Mouse admitted.

The Bard clicked his tongue and frowned as he glanced over his shoulder, out toward the forest. Those born in Serault knew better than to ignore such a coincidence. “Perhaps I should listen closer to the woodsmen. They do tell interesting tales, sometimes. Just yesterday, one mentioned something odd…”

The Bard was not wrong.

The Scholar tailed him on his rounds the next day, the bags under his eyes hidden by a wooden mask. The Bard had worried that the presence of their Marquis might be too much — that the woods-folk might grow silent if they knew they were being interrogated by their ruler. So he dressed plain, hid his hair, and played the same old games he always had.

“Are you sure it’s not the Horned Knight?” The Bard asked, stroking his beard.

“Definitely! I’ve seen him before — this one had different armor. It was golden, not silver! And it was wearing wine-colored robes underneath. The Horned Knight is all... green.”

Green and grey and brown, the Scholar thought. But he and the Bard had gotten closer to the Knight than most dared venture.

After talking with a few more woodsmen, they rode together near the edge of the woods. “Golden armor,” the Bard said. “And a mulberry riding dress. That’s what she wore, that day. Isn’t it?”

Mouse nodded and lifted his mask, briefly, to wipe his eyes.

The memory was still so vivid —

Everyone had been in a foul mood, that morning. Mouse had scurried straight to the library, avoiding the rest of the court, but… his sister knew his hiding place. She prowled up the spiral staircase and knocked on the large oaken door to get his attention.

“I wanted to see you before I went a-hunting,” she said, grinning like the Cat she was. She was already dressed up in her hunting gear: golden armor, a dark green cloak trimmed with grey fox-fur, her favorite riding dress. Her face was bare, still, save the emerald powder she’d dusted around her eyes and the dark stain on her lips.

They never wore masks when they were alone; despite their many differences, they trusted each other more than anyone else in the world.

Mouse frowned as he traced the edge of the page he was reading. “Must you go to-day? What if Mother needs you?”

“She has you, doesn’t she?” Cat scoffed. “You can take care of things for one day, I should hope.”

But one day had turned to two days, and then three — and within the fortnight, it was the ill-prepared Scholar who was named Serault’s new Marquis.

“Do you really think it’s wise to ask the Horned Knight about her?” The Bard asked, now. “I seem to recall that his favors come at a steep price…”

“If there’s a chance he has even the most minuscule lead… I’m willing to pay.”

A deep laugh rang out among the trees, and the Marquis was not the least bit surprised when the Horned Knight appeared as if from no-where. “Never have you sounded so sure, Scholar.”

“You know your domain much better than I do,” the Marquis said, tilting his head. “I trust you would tell me about something this important.”

The Knight nodded. “And so I shall. Your Huntress has not haunted my woods for a long time, Scholar. How long, exactly, I cannot be sure �� years, I believe, by your reckoning. She was always a wild one, nearly as clever as my own children. She came and went as she pleased, and I allowed it.”

“What of her last hunt?” Mouse asked, trying to keep his voice from wavering — but it did, and he felt like the Knight could see right through his masks. All of them. “Do you know what happened to her?”

“She ventured farther than any has gone before,” the Knight said. “Farther even than your Shame. What she sought, I am not sure. Perhaps the same thing you seek now? A chance. Whatever her reasons, though, she passed beyond even my reach and I saw her no more… until now.”

Mouse held his breath, his heart quickening. But the Knight held up a hand and shook his head. “Do not get your hopes up, Scholar. She is a shadow of herself, not the Huntress you once knew.”

“A shadow is still something,” the Marquis said, bowing his head in thanks.

When he looked up again, the Knight was already gone.

That night, he dreamt he was wandering the castle again. Up and up, until he was atop the Tower of Lights. He’d met with the Shame here, once. This time, she was there, staring at him with eyes he barely recognized. Daring him to ask the questions he’d kept bottled up for years.

“Why did you go?” He asked. “Why did you leave? We — I needed you, and you were gone!”

He woke with her words still ringing in his ears:

“You needed me… but Serault needed you.”

#da drunk writing circle #dragon age #the last court #the scholar x the wayward bard #the marquis x the wayward bard #;knight writes

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whosaskingwrites · 4 years ago

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Unrequited (Atsumu x Reader)

A/N: The first one of the series. I'm actually pretty proud of this one for it being the first one on the blog. It went under heavy editing and I think I cut out a whole two pages of pointless dialog. And it still ended up longer than intended. Anyways enjoy!

WARNINGS: Angst. Just angst that's it. And blood mentioned nothing too explicit. One sided love

DATE: Thursday October 22nd, 2020

Details: 4.8 pages 1,792 words

Theme: Hanahaki Disease- The victim begins to have flowers grow in their lungs leading to them coughing up flowers petals this continues getting worse until it causes their death. There's a surgery option to get rid of the flowers but it comes at the price of never feeling love again.

Angst masterlist

I stared at the ceiling of my room debating on if I was healthy enough for school. As I sat up my eyes drifted to the yellow petals overflowing from the trash can in the corner.

"Sunflowers," I mumbled as I looked at the petals.

They were supposed to represent happiness but as I looked at the blood flecked petals all I felt was overwhelming sadness. Summer break ended today so maybe I could get away with an I forgot.

"Yeah that sounds good," I said as I got out of bed and stretched.

I felt a cough bubble in my throat as I rushed to the bathroom I placed my hand over my mouth coughing into it. Blood seeped between my fingers as I felt the soft touch of flower petals in my palm. I sighed as the coughing subsided I put the petals on the sink counter. I cleaned the blood on my hands and face before heading back to my room. My limbs already felt weak as I walked it was a struggle to make the ten steps to my room.

"No school today," I sighed out as I laid down on my mattress. I let my eyes slowly slide closed as I fell asleep.

"Y/n," In my sleepy haze I could hear someone saying my name.

"Hey y/n wake up," I slowly opened my eyes and looked to the side. My eyes caught sight of grey hair and eyes looking at me in concern.

"Samu? What are you doin here?" My voice was thick with sleep and my speech was slightly slurred.

"What am I doing here? You haven't answered anyone's calls or texts! I was worried so I left practice to check on you," I furrowed my eyebrows at him. "You left practice? Kita's gonna be mad at you," I sat up which caused Osamu to put a hand infront of me and push me back down.

"He's the one who let me go. If anything Tsumu was mad he also didn't get to come," I coughed at that which Osamu sighed at. "Are you sick?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No I'm fi-" "Don't lie to me," I snapped my head towards him and he was staring back at me.

"I-I'm not lying," he shook his head and lifted his palm. Staring back at me was a single yellow petal dotted with red "Yes, you are," I flinched as I realized he'd figured it out.

"How long?" Osamu was quieter now as he spoke. "A year but it didn't get bad until the beginning of summer break," I whispered back as he placed the petal down on the ground.

"Who is it?" I felt everything I'd kept bottled up break down and tears fill my eyes "You already know," my voice cracked as Osamu sighed and pulled me towards him.

He wrapped both arms around me and pushed my face into the crook of his neck. "I know," he mumbled it as confirmation to my previous statement.

I started coughing again pulling back I covered my mouth with my hand. Osamu's eyes widened when he noticed more blood on the petals as they slipped through my fingers. I started heaving as more petals came up. Osamu left the room coming back with a cup of water and a rag. I put my hands down and watched the petals cover my bedsheets there was a thin red layer covering the petals making them look a reddish orange. I didn't need to look in a mirror to know there was a trail of blood leaking down the side of my mouth.

"Jesus...," Osamu spoke as he looked at me. He took the rag and cleaned my face and hands before giving me the glass of water.

"You let it get this bad?" I could see the concern laced in his grey eyes eyebrows furrowed downwards and mouth pulled down in a frown.

"I didn't realize it was this bad," my throat was scratchy as I spoke taking huge glups of water to sooth the ache the petals left behind.

"What are you going to do?" He asked "The same thing I've been doing. Try to forget about it," He blinked at my response "Is that why you've been ignoring Tsumu?" I nodded slowly. "It hasn't worked though,"

Before we could continue Osamu's phone rang. He answered it slowly "yeah?"

"Don't yeah me Samu! You've been gone for an hour! Get back here!" I could hear Atsumu's yelling through the phone. I got up and heading to the hallway with the glass tucked into my hand.

Suddenly the petals came back in my throat and I started coughing. The glass slipped from my fingers as I collapsed to the ground. It shattered next to me and a few shards cut my hands as I placed them on the floor. The petals came out red instead of the normal bright yellow causing small pools of blood to form around them.

I couldn't breath as I heard my bedroom door get thrown open Osamu stood there wide eyed with terror lacing his features. "Y/n! Hey stay with me!" He dropped to my level ignoring the glass that dug into his uniform pants and probably cut his legs. I saw the fear in his eyes deepen when he saw the amount of blood on the ground.

"Y/n!? What's happening! What's going on with y/n!?" I could still hear Atsumu's yelling despite my coughing. Osamu rapidly hung up and dialed someone else.

"Hello? My friend started coughing up blood and petals and I'm think she's dying please send help!" I could hear the panic in his voice as my eyes started to close. I finally stopped coughing and took deep wheezing breaths. Black spots covered my vision as a wave of exhaustion hit my body.

Osamu took my hand "Hey y/n no. Stay awake," I slowly shook my head in response. "Can't. I'm tired Samu," I mumbled at him. "You have to," Was the last thing he said before darkness over took my vision.

"Remove them!" "Sir, she has to make that decision not you," I let out a light groan as I slowly opened my eyes. Atsumu stood next to my bedside clearly yelling at a doctor.

He looked at me giving the doctor a chance to slip out of the room. "Osamu told me. Who is it?" I flinched at the anger in his voice.

A sense of relief filled me when I realized Osamu hadn't told him everything. "I- I can't tell you," I whispered. "No! No bullshit! Tell me!" I shook my head at him. "Is it Kita? Or Suna? No its Ojiro isn't it or-" I cut him off before he could continue. "It's you!" I yelled back at him.

"Me?" He asked slowly. I nodded in response "You can't love me," I sighed looking down "But I do," I felt those flowers again in my lungs clawing their way up to my throat.

"Well stop loving me!" I balled my fists together as a flash of anger struck me. "I ALREADY TRIED!" my throat burned in protest of the yelling. "I TRIED AND TRIED AND TRIED!" "AND IT NEVER WORKED!" tears rolled down my face as I looked at him. His eyes narrowed at me "I can't love you. So get them removed," Atsumu left the room after that leaving me sobbing into my hands.

Osamu walked in soon after "y/n," he whispered my name as he got closer to me. The doctor came in and looked at me sadly. "Are you sure about this?" He asked. All I could manage was a weak nod as I looked at the hospital bed.

"Do either of you know someone who's gone through this procedure before?" Before I could answer Osamu had said something. "Yes...My brother," I looked at Osamu in shock but he was looking away from me.

"Right well I'm going to go check the x-rays and come back and we can schedule the surgery then," I nodded at the doctor as he handed me a glass of water before leaving the room again.

"Atsumu...had Hanahaki Disease?" Osamu finally looked back at me slowly nodding. "He never told me who caused it and he got it removed before telling anyone," I sighed as I looked away.

"You know Samu I used to like sunflowers," I whispered staring out the window. "They were never your favorite flower though," He responded back to me. "You remember?" I turned to him as I asked to discover he was already looking at me. "Yep. Buttercups," I laughed as I nudged him with my shoulder "You only remember because it has butter in the name," He chuckled back at me "You caught me," we smiled at eachother as the doctor came back.

The doctor had a sad look in his eyes as he looked at me. "I don't have good news for you," The smile on my face fell as I looked at the doctor. "The disease has progressed too far for us to remove it," I gasped "W-what?" The doctor looked at me as I felt tears slip down my cheeks "I'm sorry but there's no way we could remove them without killing you," I turned and buried my face into Osamu's chest to hide my tears.

The doctor left as Osamu ran his fingers through my hair and down my back. "Samu...," I whispered and he hummed at me "I just wanted to say thank you for being there and I love you," I mumbled as I began drifting off to sleep the last thing I registered was Osamu responding to me. "...Love you too y/n,"

*third person p.o.v*

"You know Samu this is my fault," Osamu's eyes glanced to his twin who was sadly looking down.

"If I hadn't been a coward and told her...She would still be here and I could still love," He watched Atsumu set a bouquet of buttercups against the cool marble infront of him.

"Her favorite...Maybe that'll comfort her," Atsumu walked away while Osamu looked back at the grave.

Y/n l/n DOB: (b/d) 'She loved until the end'

Osamu felt a cough in his throat as a small yellow flower landed in his palm. It was covered in blood as he stared at it. It matched the ones in the bouquet and a sad laugh left Osamu throat.

"Buttercups huh...," He let the flower leave his palm with the wind as he followed his brother a small sad smile on his face as he whispered one last thing to the wind.

"I love you y/n,"

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TAG LIST: @wonhomarshmallow

#atsumu miya #atsumu x reader #atsumu angst #WhosaskingAngst #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyu #osamu miya #osamu angst

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starneko123 · 3 years ago

Text

Ensnaring Sorceress

Something for @ninibear3000 OC's Asma and her amazing simp Sanayah!

Put your loving hand out, baby

I'm beggin'

"Korë? I swear I have heard that name somewhere." Asma announced as she leaned on her bo staff and Sanayah took her place beside Asma crossing her arms and looking at their preceptors. "Nova Korë Nagako is popular in Outworld because of her status amongst other things. Along with the rest of her family." Fujin informed looking at Asma and Raiden making eye contact with Sanayah. "She is to arrive in Earthrealm today near a village and she has been doing so for the past few days but only staying for perhaps a few minutes then leaving." Raiden explained, "You will find her and try to get information as to why she has been making frequent visits and have not given reason to those visits." Fujin finished and the two elemental students were on their way.

"Do you think she's a demon?" Asma asked her friend as she twirled her bo in elaborate ways to keep her distracted "Lord Raiden said she was Edenian like Kitana and Jade. But maybe she's half of something either way why would someone of Outworld come to Earthrealm and to a random village no less." Sanayah questioned freely in the air even though she was talking to Asma. The said airbender shrugged and let out a dreamy sigh at the mention of the green bo staff wielder "I don't know. People of Outworld come to Earthrealm for many things just like we go to Outworld for things...you know?" Asma mentioned and she was going to continue until they reached the village or well the village's forest. They were on the village grounds.

Now they were keeping their eyes out. She could be anywhere."You know what's messed up? We don't even know what she looks like all we know is her name." Sanayah mumbled as she let out a groan and summoned her sword which caused the sound of thunder to sound about the village and far off.

Beggin', beggin' you

Put your loving hand out, baby

Beggin', beggin' you

Put your loving hand out, darling

Korë was humming to herself while gently picking the flowers and pulling the stems out. She was taking her sweet time and she didn't even intend to rush or be rushed. She was on her last batch of flowers and herbs till she heard the sound of thunder. She inwardly groaned as the name popped in her head of who it could be and it would only be a matter of time before she felt a strong breeze shake her body and send her and her alone in the air. She kept the same pace as she continued to pluck the flowers and herbs.

"Is that her?" Asma asked herself and Sanayah knelt and saw her...picking flowers? "She doesn't look like a threat," Sanayah said even though Korë had her back turned and they couldn't see her face her posture and aura did not seem threatening whatsoever. "Just because it doesn't look threatening doesn't mean it is threatening Nayah." Asma told her as she reached for her bo staff and she heard Sanayah hum as a response and it was in agreement. The both of them sucked in a breath as Korë stood up and stretched. The two students seemed to be holding their breath until she turned around.

Korë let out a small sigh as she stood and brought her hands to her back. She kept her lower body still and she moved her upper body back and she kept leaning back until her back made a popping sound and she let out an irritated moan. She turned away from the bushes and looked down at her basket. It was full and she was getting tired. She dragged out the ribbon that was holding her hair in a bun. She went to a standstill when she heard shuffling nearby and as many times she has been here she never saw animals.

Riding high, when I was king

Played it hard and fast, 'cause I had everything

Walked away, wonderin' then

But easy come and easy go

And it would end

Sanayah let out an audible gasp as Korë turned around "She is so...pretty." A basic answer but there were a lot of words for her. "Now is not the time not the place Sanay-" Asma was cut off mid-sentence by an energy blast. It blasted her back a few feet but there was no damage to her person as she got back up quicker than Korë expected. "Such a beautiful for stalkers. What brings you here?" Korë said as she adjusted her clothing and her claws. "That's the question we should be asking you, Princess," Asma said as she appeared next to Sanayah "You didn't go unnoticed." She finished as they both readied their weapons without saying anything else. Korë did the same but instead of using her whip, she thought today would be good to use her black beauty spear.

Korë ran forward and struck her spear into the ground and used it to pivot her body upwards into the air. She curled herself into a ball to turn her body and put her leg out aiming at Asma hitting her with a dropkick and sending both of them to the ground. Korë rolled away and got back on her feet but so did Asma as she kicked herself up and turned to face Korë. Asma made her way to the spear wielder to thrust her bo three times near Korë's face but all three missed. Asma did a spinning move and did another thrust to Korë's exposed stomach and it landed. As Korë made a guttural noise Asma didn't hesitate to send another blow with her bo staff to Korë's back sending her down on one knee. Korë grunted as she saw Asma get ready to strike her down with the bo but Korë caught the end of it and twisted to where Asma wouldn't loose grip but Korë now had her own grip on it on the opposite end and jabbed Asma in the chest.

Korë was able to whirl the staff around and bring Asma closer to Korë. Now Asma's back was pressed against Korë's chest as she brought the staff to Asma's neck and pressed her head into it. Korë had no intention of killing bringing unconsciousness was the key. Korë was about to put the last blow to the already worn-out Airbender until she was shocked with thunder. She let out a bone-crushing shriek that echoed throughout the forest. The 'thunder' was coming from Sanayah and Asma was able to detach herself from the sorceress before she was shocked as well. When Sanayah saw that she stopped and Korë turned to look at both of them she dropped to her knees and mist started to emit from her body then everything went black.

So why every time I lead you let me go?

Every time I reach, you get me low

Every time I seek, you let me know

But I planted that seed, just let me grow

I'm on my knees while I'm (beggin')

'Cause I don't want to lose (you)

I got my arms all spread

I hope that my heart gets fed

Matter of fact, girl, I'm beggin' (beggin', beggin')

"Did I kill her?!" Sanayah asked in a panic and rushed over to the Outworld Princess and Asma made a face mixed with annoyance and fatigue as she watched her do so. She let out a small whine "Grab her and I'll grab the basket." Asma said as she rolled her eyes and made her way to the said item.

They made their way back to the White Lotus and Korë was awake and walking not protesting whatsoever. All she asked for was her basket and Asma gave it back with no complaints. "Your visitation to Earthrealm was not forewarned. Why?" Raiden inquired and Korë had a very flat look on her face. Trust me, she would be showing respect and kindness if her insides weren't reduced to slush and her back wasn't aching. "Why would I forewarn about plants Lord Raiden?" Korë asked and the conversation continued "I only came to Earthrealm for the soil. Silas has been making progress with renewing Outworld's soil but it's slow work. I momentarily needed Earth's soil for my plants. My mother's and Outworld can vouch for me Thunder God." Korë said as she made her way into his Sky Temple to heal herself.

She created an energy ball and let it levitate around her body, healing different parts and sections. She then heard a knock...two knocks...and then three. "Yes?" Korë as sweetly as she could muster and the door creaked open to a 30-degree angle and out popped two heads. Asma and Sanayah. Korë was able to have a good look at them, Asma had beautiful dark skin that complimented her glowing eyes and pearl white hair that was braided and put in a bun. She was wearing all white but with orange and yellow cloud-like patterns which Korë silently complimented. Sanayah had brown skin and was noticeably taller with or without her hat, she had long black hair and brown eyes she believes. Either way, they were both beautiful in Korë's eyes.

Beggin', beggin' you

Put your loving hand out, baby

Beggin', beggin' you

Put your loving hand out, darling

I need you (yeah) to understand (yeah, oh)

Tried so hard to be your man (hey)

The kind of man you want in the end (oh, oh)

Only then can I begin to live again

An empty shell, I used to be

Shadow of my life was hangin' over me

A broken man that I don't know

Won't even stand the devil's chance to win my soul

"Yes?" Korë asked again looking at the two next-gen elementals crossing her legs in the process but also keeping up with levitating energy ball. Asma was the one to speak up "We- I have your spear." Asma said as she walked into the room and Korë lazily held her hand out. "So I'm Asma." She introduced herself as she sat next to Korë "I'm Sanayah!" Sanayah followed Asma's lead and sat on the other side of Korë. Korë made no sign to move she just made herself comfortable "I'm...Korë." She paused then giggled as if they didn't already know her name. She looked over to Sanayah "I haven't been in the Sky Temple for awhile...mind showing me around?" She asked as her fuschia eyes bore into Sanayah's dark brown and those painted black lips spread into a grin.

And that's how it went. You think someone who was electrocuted by their opposer would be livid. But no...she asked for a tour. "So you're a part of an elemental group and your specific element is thunder and lightning?" Korë had never heard anything like this before and she was interested. "Yes. The person you saw earlier she controls the wind like Lord Fujin." Sanayah clarified and she looked back at Korë "So what about you?" Korë raised a brow "What about me?" Sanayah gestured to Korë's...lovely person "You! Everything about you." She couldn't ask the question. She knew what she wanted to ask but couldn't do it. What's wrong with her now? "Everything about me?" Korë put her clawed finger to her chin in thought.

"I am divine." Korë answered and Sanayah looked intrigued "Divine? I thought you were royalty." Korë nodded "I'm a lot of things. I'm a butterfly." Sanayah laughed but that loving look never left "A butterfly?" Korë hummed in agreement "Stars." It was Sanayah's turn to raise a brow "You're a star?" Korë shook her head "Stars in your eyes." Korë answered as she pointed a clawed finger at Sanayah's face. "I would personally like to call them hearts. But to each their own." Sanayah's said and then it was silent. The comfortable kind.

What we doing? What we chasing?

Why the bottom? Why the basement?

Why we got good shit, don't embrace it?

Why the feel for the need to replace me?

You're on a runway track from the good

I want to paint in a picture telling where we could be at

Like the heart ain't attached where it should

You done give it away, I had it 'til you took it back

But I keep walking on, keep opening doors

Keep hoping for that the call is yours

Keep hoes on hold

'Cause I don't want to live in a broken home

Girl I'm beggin' (beggin', beggin')

Beggin', beggin' you

Put your loving hand out, baby

Beggin', beggin' you

Put your loving hand out, darling

I'm fighting hard (yeah)

To hold my own (to hold my own)

Just can't make it

All alone (all alone)

"It was very nice meeting the both of you," Korë said as she grabbed her basket. It was nice. Truly nice. It could have a home better but still nice. "I just wish that our first encounter could have gone differently," Sanayah said with a somber look on her face "I'll be coming back soon, I can never truly leave Earthrealm." Korë said sending a wink and smile towards Sanayah and waving at Asma. That seemed to brighten Sanayah up.

"You're in love, huh?"

"Shut up."

#Spotify #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 11 #mortal kombat oc #oc interaction #my thoughts #mine #my oc story #sanayah #ninibear3000 #i did it nini #korë nagako #a bit rushed in the end but I tried.#but I put a fight scene in there!

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londonskies · 4 years ago

Text

2am conversations are for feelings.

Harry and Reader like their 2am conversations, but tonight's conversation doesn't leave them with that much words to say. At all.

The wind blew past us as we sat on the roof, drinks in hand and eyes on the stars.

The silence was comfortable. It wasn't always, but Harry was such a nice guy that all the shine of being a celebrity soon faded away, leaving me not spazzing out that I now hung out with my celebrity crush, as actual real life friends.

I had met him by chance. A vacation in a beautiful place led to joining him in a game of beach volleyball to even out the teams.

His friends were the nicest to me too, which surprised me because I was a lone stranger trying to pretend not to see friggin Harry Styles for the sole reason that he looked so happy having a normal day.

After that, they had insisted I join them for lunch and found out that one of them actually worked in the same place as I did, just in a totally different department, and soon, that small connection got me integrated in their little group of friends.

Movie nights and dinner parties, sleepovers and trips out camping as well as going to the beach all became treasured memories for me, but what surprised me was that I found myself having 2 am conversations with Harry. Alot.

As an insomniac, it was normal for me to wake up in the early morning. When I'm alone, it's usually just staring at the ceiling, waiting for either sleep or dawn to come.

But during a sleepover to Harry's house, I found his legs dangling outside of the guestroom I had stayed in. Since then, it was sort of tradition for me and him to find each other in either the roof or whatever secluded place we could find, if we were awake in the wee hours of the morning. (Which, I almost always was anyway)

Today was no different. With the house party in full swing downstairs, I had decided that I had had enough of the loud music and sweaty bodies and alcohol. Grabbing a bottle of iced tea from the fridge, I snuck to the roof outside of the host's bedroom window, finding that Harry was already there and watching the stars.

I joined him without a word, smiling as he acknowledged my presence with a smile and looking back to the stars with a swig of whatever drink he was holding.

The silence was calming. The wind cooling my skin from the heat of the party, paired with the quiet sounds of the night and the quake of the booming party music from far away.

Some days we had too much to tell each other, but sometimes, the company was all that we needed. Today seemed to be one of those days.

The music was waning when one of us finally spoke without looking at the other.

"It hurt."

My silent look to his side profile made him continue what he was saying.

"When he broke up with me."

Instantly, I knew who he was talking about. Louis, his best friend, or, was his best friend.

It hadn't taken too many 2am conversations for me to open up about my lovelife (or lackthereof) and soon, he had dropped the bomb on me.

He and Louis had been together once.

In the early days of the band, he had been absolutely taken by the loud and charismatic personality that Lou had. They circled around each other like a moth to a flame, instantly clicking together and becoming closer that anyone had ever imagined.

So when Lou had mentioned that he wanted to explore his sexuality, Harry had eagerly jumped up to the plate and volunteered his help. A decision that later resulted to his heart getting broken.

Louis breaking up with him had not been an easy decision, Harry had explained when he saw my reaction when he gave me that little nugget. I had been livid at the thought of someone hurting him, even if it was done by someone I looked up to.

In the first place, he had said, falling into the relationship was easy for both of them. The motions were easy, moving together was easy, the gestures, the words, everything was easy.

But Louis had soon realized that he hadn't been in love with Harry, only at the thought of being in a relationship with someone.

And that had taken a long time for him to get it off his chest. He didn't want to hurt Harry, who clearly loved him with all his heart, and whom he loved just as much back, just not in the way that Harry did.

Eventually though, it had happened. He had gotten home to Louis wringing his wrists, looking extremely distressed, tears already dried on his cheeks but still being accompanied by more new ones from his already red rimmed eyes.

He had adorably (Harry's words, not mine, but I am inclined to agree in the premise of my imagination) blubbered apologies left and right, incoherent words sprinkled far apart and scarce, but Harry had understood.

And he let Louis break up with him.

They had spent the night on the couch, reminiscing memories and intimate touches, and when they woke, it had become official. They were no longer together.

Louis had Liam to go to after they broke up, and Harry started to go to Zayn for the deep conversations and to Niall for the laughs. They hadn't intended to drift away from each other, but they soon did.

They were still pretty close to each other, but not to the extent that they were before they became a couple. And it had hurt Harry more than he cared to show anyone.

And then with everything happened and between Taylor, Eleanor, Brianna and Freddie, Zayn leaving and the extended hiatus and the solo careers, Harry hadn't let himself hurt.

Even when he dropped the Larry bomb at me, he had seemed resigned to his fate, like it didn't matter, like it was just a passing memory that he decided to tell me.

But it seemed like tonight was gonna be different.

I silently reached over his free hand and squeezed gently, letting him know that I understood and wouldn't press him for more than what he would let me know.

He paused for a little while, like he was gathering strength to continue, and I just waited patiently, letting him take his time.

"It hurt that he couldn't love me in the way that I loved him."

The waterworks shouldn't have surprised me, he was hurt and he was allowed to cry about something even if years had already passed, but it did, and all I could muster up to do ws hug him and hold him tight, as if I was trying to keep the pieces of his soul together.

"Why does it still hurt?" He squeezed me back, fingers scrunching the back of my oversized sweater along with my hair, and I let him.

I let him hurt, and I let him feel. Because he hadn't allowed himself to and I'd be damned before I stop him from doing just that.

My voice cracked as I spoke, but I pushed on. "Because you've been bottling it up for so long, and it's okay. Now you can let youself hurt, you let yourself feel, then you can let yourself move on."

His tears fell onto my shoulder, leaving it damp and cold, but I let him. "What if I don't want to?"

"Don't want to what?" I cracked a smile, knowing exactly what he meant, but knowing that this was his way of coping.

"To move on."

"That's okay too. But someday you will, and that's all that matters."

I felt him smile into my shoulder and sniff, brushing the tears away from his eyes first but then breaking back down and sobbing. He didn't say anything after that, just tears and hugs and squeezing each other to remind each other that we were still there.

My heart ached for him, but I knew that that was just how it had to go. Louis had not intended to hurt Harry, but he did, but that was okay. And Harry was okay. He was just letting himself feel. And I let him.

We hadn't noticed the music turning off, or our friends shooing the other guests out and saying goodbye, stumbling to their rooms on their drunk asses, crashing into bed. We hadn't noticed falling asleep on the roof, clinging to each other like a lifeline.

But when we woke up, we smiled and went down for breakfast, like 2am stayed at 2am and now all was well.

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chris-evans-indian-fanfic · 4 years ago

Text

Across Seven Seas

Chapter 4

Description: This fanfiction series is set in the year 2022, after the horrid COVID-19 has finally come to an end. In this fanfiction, Chris Evans holidays with his family in India and meets Meera Shankar. The story explores their rollercoaster journey and raises a question, whether two people, from two contrasting backgrounds and cultures, can build their future together?

WE FINALLY FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENED WITH CHRIS IN THIS CHAPTER!

This series is Chris Evans x OFC with Chris Evans' family and friends having recurring appearances. Please find below a lot of Original Characters-

Meera Shankar - The female lead

Meera's Mother

Poppy - Meera's maternal grandmother

Rohan - Meera's elder brother who is 6 years older than her.

Ankur - Concierge of the Hotel Maple-Fawn in Mussoorie

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3

Chapter 5

FIND MORE CHAPTERS BY CLICKING ON MY BIO

P.S- India follows only one timezone.

P.P.S- All the photographs used in the chapters are of the real locations mentioned. I clicked these photographs on my vacation.

This is a work of fiction. The names of the hotels and companies have been changed to avoid copyright issues. Meera Shankar and her family is based on the author and her kin. No offense is intended.

I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.

...

Chapter 4

7th September, 1:50 pm - Dehradun-Mussoorie Road

Seated comfortably in 2 large SUVs, the Evans family was on its way to Maple-Fawn, where they were to spend the rest of their vacation in peace. While almost everyone was fast asleep, Chris was wide-awake, awestruck with the view as their cars drove on winding slopes of the mountain. His body was tired, but his eyes refused to shut, taking in every detail of the natural beauty.

When they finally reached the hotel, the cold air was cruelly nipping at them. Since Delhi had been extremely hot, they had decided to ditch the winter wear until after they reached Mussoorie. Basking in the warmth of their rooms, Chris couldn't help but marvel at the view from his room. The entire valley was sprawled beneath him, the hill-side dotted with lush green leaves.

There were mountains as far as his eyes could see, dark green set against the bright blue sky. This would be a good place to sketch, he thought, sitting on the chair in his bedroom balcony.

The rest of the day was uneventful for the family, with all of them tuckered out.

Same day, 5:30pm - Hotel Maple-Fawn

Bundled up in 2 sweaters, a jacket, skull cap and finally, a shawl to cover it all up, Meera finished her walk across the property. She now knew where the gym, yoga centre, gaming zone, library, swimming pool, dance club, spa and garden were located. She knew every exit, every corridor and passage. She was satisfied with the amount of fire extinguishers present and their ease of access. The hotel had various maps screwed into the walls, with clearly demarcated ways to the nearest exit and fire extinguishers.

Heading back to her room, she felt her phone vibrate. "Hey Ma, what happened?" she answered the call. "Where are you?" "Just taking a walk, coming back now." "YOU LEFT THE HOTEL?! ALONE?!" shouted her mother. "Ma, calm down, I did not leave the hotel. I was just taking a walk inside the hotel premises. I wanted to see their gym, swimming pool, gaming zone, spa..." "Oh okay okay, but you should have told me you are going na." "Have you checked your phone? I sent you a Whatsapp message when I left. You even received it," replied Meera. "Yes but that was a long time ago!" "It was only 20 minutes ago Ma!" said an indignant Meera, "It is not my fault that you panicked!" "I am your mother. I have every right to panic when I can't find my children." Reaching the lift to her portion of the hotel, Meera disconnected the call.

Conducting a thorough check of any premises had become somewhat of a habit for Meera. There had been too many instances where innocent people had been the victims of fires just because the building had not been upto code, or even if they were, then the people did not know where the exits were or how to use a fire extinguisher. She was not going to take any chances when it came to protecting her family.

Entering the shared bedroom, Meera's mother ran to hug her, "Where were you? Do you know how worried I was?" "Mom I had been gone for just 20 minutes. Can you please not be so clingy?" retorted Meera, dodging her mother. "I am a mother. Mothers are not clingy." "First of all," replied Meera, "A mother is a relation and being clingy is a personality trait, so yes, you can be both. And secondly, I told you where I am na, what is the need to be so hyper all the time?" "I worry Bala," her Mother said with concern, "Times are bad." "If the times are bad then..." "How is the rest of the hotel?" interrupted Poppy, ending their conversation. "It is great. They even have a small library here. Some of your favourite authors are available as well. There's Danielle Steel, Maeve Binchy and Babara Taylor Bradford." "Oo that's nice. Any books which we haven't read?" "I don't know which books you haven't read, but I will take you there whenever you want. I got this interesting book which talks about the history of Mussoorie and..." "Why is my phone hanging?" Poppy interrupted again, "Meera check and see what is wrong with my phone." Meera quietly sighed. Her grandmother had an annoying habit of interrupting people when they were talking about something she wasn't interested in. Clearing some of the junk from the phone, she handed it back to Poppy. "Aah now it's working properly," smiled Poppy.

Next day, 10am - Hotel Maple-Fawn

The restaurant where all the meals were served housed floor-to-ceiling windows which offered a beautiful view of the trees and overlooked the valley below.

The Evans family was already at the table next to the window, savoring the delicious breakfast. Scott suddenly stopped eating his omelette, his eyes squinting at something across the room. "Did you guys see that woman? She took a bowl of cornflakes and is eating them without milk! Why would she do that?" Carly and Lisa turned around while Shanna tried to crane her neck to look at the person. "Who are you talking about?" asked Shanna. "That woman in the skull cap! She's sitting at the table of 4, with 3 other people! The one who's wearing the bulky sweater and shawl!" "That's not a woman, that's a man," stated Carly, "I saw him walking around our wing yesterday. He was looking at all the fire extinguishers and the maps for some reason. I thought he worked with the hotel. What a weirdo." "I think that's a woman," contributed Lisa, "What do you think Chris?" "Not interested," came the reply.

Over the course of the next few days, members of the Evans family kept spotting the 'mystery person', either at the gaming zone, the library, restaurant or around the premises. Shanna swore she once heard the person and their voice sounded "Deep and gruff, just like a man's!" "Bullshit!" retorted Scott, "I saw her crouching on the gravel pathway yesterday. It's a she!" "Wait why was she crouching on the pathway for no reason? That is so weird!" commented Stella, Chris' 13-year-old niece. "Oh she was picking up some wrapper or plastic, I don't know I wasn't very close." "Then how are you sure it was she and not he?" argued Shanna.

The doorbell of their suite rang, putting a pause to the argument. The concierge, Ankur, was at the door. He informed them that the hotel was organising a horse-riding workshop for the next day and wanted to check if anyone would be interested to participate. "Sounds like fun," Scott wondered, "No! I cannot hear you complain about chafed thighs for the rest of the vacation," said Chris. After they politely refused, Ankur reminded Chris about the mediation program. "You have only visited one session sir, when we had you signed up for the entire duration of your stay. Did you not like the session?" "Oh no it was great. I... I just wanted to spend sometime with my family, you know?" "I understand sir. You can rejoin the program anytime you want. I will take your leave. Do let us know if there's anything we can do to serve you," and with that, Ankur left.

"I am sorry," apologized Carly, "I thought you might like the mediation program. Rishikesh is just a few hours away you know. We can go and spend the rest of our vacation there." "Please don't say that," replied Chris, "They have a nice teacher here. It's just that I have already heard and read everything that the guru was preaching. Plus it's so beautiful here. I want us to stay," Chris tried his best to sound convincing.

It wasn't that this vacation was a bad idea, the change of location and the absence of the hounding media had relieved some of the stress Chris had been facing. It was just that Chris felt like he didn't belong anywhere. Uptil now, for the better part of the vacation, he had stayed holed up in his room, either watching PicFlix or sitting in his balcony, with a blank notepad and pencil. There were days when his mind was flooded with thoughts and then there were times when he felt... numb. He sat in the cold, without a sweater or a jacket, just to feel the nip of the wind, which never really came. He felt like he was either running at top speed, or he had come to a full stop. When therapy had not worked for him, he had tried to speak to his family, but they were always supportive and just this once, just this once, he did not want them to be. He had fucked up, and he wanted a way to fix it. But how could he when he himself needed fixing?

Settling back in his room, with a glass of whisky, neat, he closed his eyes, to rewind everything that had happened, once again.

Post the COVID-19 nightmare, when the country had finally reopened and life had started to return to normalcy, Chris and his partners, Mark Kassen and Joe Kiani, had finally launched their civic engagement project A Starting Point (ASP). The launch had been successful, with Chris' devoted fans flocking to the website in the first few days. The concept had been quite simple, to get senators on one-minute videos to answer questions on topics related to education, trade policies, immigration and more. They had managed to get inputs and secure participation from politicians belonging to both the parties. It all worked fine for the first 2 months.

The third month came with its own set of issues. Many politicians started promoting their own agendas, instead of just explaining the existing policies. This led to a shortage of interview clips as Chris and his team refused to air such videos.

As time went on, politicians belonging to the same parties started giving different, contradicting information on the same topics. While some senators painted a pretty picture about a particular policy, others spoke against it. What added fuel to the fire was that the some of the news media had started reporting that Chris was causing friction in both the political parties through ASP, especially the Republican party. It also didn't help that Chris had been outspoken against the previous Republican President. Moreover, politicians who answered questions by ASP started changing their responses when they were asked the same questions by the media. They blamed Chris for somehow manipulating and changing their responses.

This had already started taking a toll on Chris' career. Award functions were reluctant to invite him to the ceremony, let alone nominate him for his roles. His box office collections had started seeing a decline. Even the media was increasingly writing negative stories about him, wondering whether America's blue-eyed hero is finally becoming the villian.

As months passed, an increased number of citizens were disgruntled by the lack of new videos and hence, lack of information on the site.

The final nail in ASP's coffin was Senator Yellowstone. One of the youngest senators to ever be elected, Senator Yellowstone was charming, intelligent and sharp. He understood the need for reforms in the governement and knew that change was inevitable in order for the country to progress. It was uncanny how Chris and Yellowstone agreed on multiple political issues. Both of them saw eye-to-eye when it came to the electoral college, voting and other issues. As a result, Yellowstone became one of the top contributors of ASP, always open to share a small video on the topics that mattered the most.

Chris would never forget the day when Yellowstone's rape scandal broke the news. He had been accused of rape and molestation by 43 teenagers. Apparently, as a part of his community outreach, Yellowstone ran a program wherein he would tutor and guide young females who would be interested to take part in politics in the near future. Chris had been impressed by the initiative and had supported Yellowstone. But, he did not know that Yellowstone was using the initiative as a front for his horrific crimes. That scandal destroyed Chris, professionally and personally. ASP finally shut down and all the studios cancelled their contracts with him. He was fired from his ongoing projects. While the court had acquitted Chris of all charges, the media still put him on trial everytime. He couldn't come to face the truth. He blamed himself for what happened to those poor girls. He could have been, should have been more careful in trusting people. But, Yellowstone's charm was such that he could charm the snake into shedding it's skin, and then sell it back to him.

Chris had publically apologized to all the victims and had discreetly offered to pay for their education. While some graciously accepted the offer, understanding that Chris had nothing to do with the scandal, a few others saw it as Chris' attempt to hide his 'alleged' involvement. They approached the media with this story and as expected, the next day his kind gesture was butchered, tainted as a 'cover-up fiasco' by the news outlets.

It had been a year since then. There were no new projects on Chris' desk. Most of the film industry was practising their distance, with only a few loyal friends sticking by his side. His social media accounts lay dormant. There were still a portion of his fans who stood by him, defending him on the internet, but there was a large number of people who even today thought he had to do something with the scandal and was to blame.

Everyday, his remorse ate him alive. Everyday, he felt himself slipping into the abyss and everyday, his motivation to try and reach out for help lessened. Everyday.

Chris' phone pulled him out of his reverie. He saw Scott's name on the screen, asking him to join the family for dinner. Chris looked at the untouched glass of whisky, deciding he was not hungry.

Not tonight.

#chris evans #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chrisevans #chris evans x india #angst #chris evans angst #a starting point #chris evans family #chris evans fic #chris evans fandom #oc appreciation day 2020 #OCs Are People Too

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esselley · 7 years ago

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Kinktober #6: Bonds

Please accept this offering, nearly 5k words of more Mage AU <3

"Oy, Kageyama, wake up."

Kageyama jerks upright, and says, as knowledgeably as he knows how, "Channeling as a type of spellcasting was popularized at some point between the sixth and seventh century."

The group of classmates gathered around his desk all laugh, as he stares at them blankly.

"Nice try, genius," one of them says, "but you're in Magical Theory. Not History."

"It's a good thing he’s a natural at actually casting anything, seriously..."

They continue on in this vein, about how lucky and gifted Kageyama is; he yawns, staring off into the middle distance, and tunes them out. He doesn't mind people assuming he's better at magic than them, through no fault of his own. Not like Hinata, who always gets offended any time people take his skills for granted. And speaking of Hinata…

"Sorry," Kageyama says, as he stands abruptly, not feeling very sorry to be able to escape at all, "I've got to go to club."

His classmates wave goodbye as he collects his things and hurries from the room.

“Why are you in such a hurry?”

"Oooh, I guess that’s what happens after you tie the knot!"

Kageyama resolutely does not give any sign he has heard them.

If anyone were to have asked Kageyama Tobio ten or five or even one year ago where he saw himself in the present day, his answer would not have been "accidentally magically married to a disaster of an orange human being", because—well, for starters, he and Hinata aren't actually married—alright, functionally, they are, as far as mage unions go; but it's different, and they're figuring out how to reverse the spell as fast as they can (nevermind the fact that everybody keeps telling them it can't be reversed). It's complicated.

What isn't complicated is going to club, and meeting up with Hinata to go over strategy, and winning their practice duels for the day.

Only, that turns out to be quite complicated as well.

There's another problem that's been grating on Kageyama as of late, and it's one more he never could have anticipated. See, at the start of all this—wherever the start is, exactly, because Kageyama isn't sure, whether that's meeting Hinata, or their disastrous entrance exams, or being forced to pair off for the club, or deciding to try The Kindling Pact—at the start of all this, he never would have guessed that he'd get used to having Hinata around.

And he truly had. Not just physically, but mentally—emotionally. Hinata is something of a tempest, when it comes to presence, and Kageyama had borne the full brunt of that after they'd been magically tethered. And the whole point of doing the damn spell in the first place had been so they could be stronger—doing so required forging a most unique sort of bond. And it had worked (better than either of them had bargained for).

So it's a mystery to him, now, why Hinata has recently decided to ignore him entirely.

Kageyama rubs at his chest, absentmindedly, pressing the pads of his fingers to the mark that lies beneath his shirt.

He hadn't noticed it at first. He's bad at noticing things, and on top of that, they've both been trying to regulate the whole "reading each other's mind" thing. Gradually, they'd been able to filter things. It was like getting used to background noise—other stopped being intrusive and instead just became a constant, more images and ideas than actual dialogue.

But lately—the past week or so—it's gone quiet. Even when they're in proximity, or during duels, Hinata isn't giving him anything. That part of Kageyama that had shifted to accommodate him is suddenly just empty space.

It's weird. And maybe weirder still is how much Kageyama dislikes it.

Hinata barely looks at him during warm ups, and Kageyama doesn't push where he's not wanted. He especially refuses to do this inside Hinata's head, but the penalty for them both comes in the form of handily losing their duel against Tanaka and Nishinoya during practice. If Hinata won't focus long enough to plan beforehand, and he won't use their mental advantage during the actual duel, they have basically no chance. They're an explosive pair, for better or worse, and when it works for them, it really works. In all other instance, it backfires. They're so out of sync, the match barely lasts five minutes.

It wouldn't be so bad losing to upperclassmen normally, but Kageyama knows Hinata is distracted, not giving it his all. But the weirdness doesn't end with the duel. Instead of trying to argue or bemoan their loss, Hinata… apologizes. Awkwardly and blandly, like he knows he's messed up but doesn't really care about the reasons as to why; and as soon as club is over, he makes his excuses and scurries off, without so much as a backward glance.

That's not normal either; Hinata always tries to linger and soak up as much of the atmosphere as possible, fluttering around their clubmates, like he thinks he can absorb a bit of everyone else's knowledge, their finesse.

It's all so unlike Hinata that Kageyama almost feels worried instead of angry, but Hinata won't give him the time of day to talk to him, either—so he just winds up pissed. He intends to find out what's going on.

By the time he manages to escape from Tanaka's teasing, he bursts out into the long hallway to see Hinata already halfway down it.

"Hinata!"

Hinata either doesn't hear him, or ignores him. Irritated, Kageyama gives chase.

"Hey! Quit ignoring me, dumbass!"

He's definitely being ignored. Hinata glances over his shoulder and then speeds up. Furious, Kageyama prepares to shout again, and then remembers a much better way to accomplish doing what he wants, short of magicking a lasso to catch Hinata.

He musters all his willpower, and thinks as hard and as loudly as he can into Hinata's head.

STOP RUNNING!

Hinata screeches, trips, and falls flat on his face. Kageyama finally manages to catch up to him, sliding to a stop next to where Hinata now lies, rolling around on the ground in pain and probably crankiness.

"Don't do that!" Hinata shouts at him as soon as Kageyama leans over him. "Do you have any idea how loud that was?!"

"I wouldn't have had to do it if you'd stopped when I called out to you the first time," Kageyama says, crossing his arms. He refuses to help Hinata up, and Hinata probably wouldn't accept his help. Since Hinata's been avoiding him like an ass, anyway.

"Maybe if you knew when to leave people alone, you wouldn't have had to bother in the first place!" Hinata says.

Ah ha, Kageyama thinks. He doesn't say anything, just looks away as Hinata sits up. He hasn't done anything, that he knows of, to make Hinata want him to stay away.

Hinata sighs. "I didn't—it's not because of anything you did, really."

Kageyama snaps his stare back at him. "Now you want to listen to what I'm thinking?"

Hinata wilts. "It's not that I didn't before—well, I mean, not any less than usual. It's not like you actually like it, anyway, so what are you mad about?"

Kageyama scowls. He tries very hard not to think the thing he's currently thinking. As it’s been on his mind for days already, he fails. Hinata's mouth falls open.

"You do like it?"

"No!" Kageyama says. "I don't."

"You just thought—"

"It's easier!" Kageyama grinds out. "It's just—easier."

Hinata blinks. "Why?"

Kageyama doesn't know why. He's not good at explaining the way he's feeling to people; he doesn't understand half the time what he's feeling himself. It usually doesn't occur to him to talk it over. He'd had no plan, when he went chasing after Hinata. He just knew something had changed.

Oh, Hinata thinks.

Kageyama startles. It's the first time he's heard Hinata in his head in days. Hinata chuckles.

"See?" he says. "Now imagine if I'd shouted."

He clambers to his feet, and Kageyama uncrosses his arms in an effort to look less pissed off. It probably doesn't work, because of his face, which is presumably doing what it always does.

"I didn't think you'd be mad about it," Hinata says, as if to prove his suspicions right.

"I'm not mad," Kageyama says, "I'm just annoyed."

Hinata rolls his eyes. "Okay, annoyed."

"Why haven't I been able to hear you? Either talking or thinking?" Kageyama asks. It's curiosity as much as anything else. The first few weeks had been chaos, constant chatter in his head. He hadn't known anyone could be as talkative as Hinata before, and that was before they were sharing thoughts. Even when they'd gotten used to each other, the low hum of Hinata's presence was always a constant reminder. Until it had suddenly just… stopped. And everything had become quiet for Kageyama again.

"Uwahhh," Hinata breathes, and Kageyama sighs, knowing he heard. "Did you really miss—"

"It just got quiet!" Kageyama says furiously. "It helped me stay awake in class."

"We can't hear each other in class," Hinata points out, before Kageyama can realize his mistake. Hinata starts to grin.

"Oh, shut up," Kageyama tells him. "Why'd you stop, then?" He isn't even sure how Hinata stopped it.

"Oh, I, uh—" Hinata says, right before he turns a brilliant shade of pink.

Kageyama squints at him. "What?"

"Nothing!" Hinata squeaks. "I didn't stop, you're just—"

"You already said it's not because of anything I did, so—"

"Yeah, because I didn't stop doing anything in the first place—"

"Hinata—" Kageyama grabs Hinata's wrist and Hinata squeezes his eyes shut as Kageyama attempts to hear what he's thinking.

Immediately, he's assaulted by a barrage of thoughts: tamago kake gohan; a replay of some episode of some anime; playing with somebody’s cat—all inconsequential, random, nonsensical—

He's going to know, he's gonna know, meat buns, yesterday's theory homework—crap, I forgot to finish that—

"Hey!" Kageyama says, letting go of him. "St-stop! What the hell are you—what am I going to know?"

"Nothing!" Hinata says.

It’s so obvious how turned on I am—oops—

Kageyama blinks. He heard that crystal clear. "You—" Turned on? Does Hinata want to—what else could he mean—

"Yes, obviously that's what I mean!" Hinata groans. "And I haven't been able to stop thinking about it for days, so I had to—"

“Stop thinking about—”

“You, yes,” Hinata says.

"Why didn't you say something?!" Kageyama demands.

"What?!" Hinata sputters. "Why would I?"

"Because—" Kageyama starts to say, then falters. That is… an excellent question. Yes, they had fucked once, and yes, Kageyama can admit that it wasn't not good. It was alright. It—

"It was more than 'alright'," Hinata says, and Kageyama ignores him.

Whatever it had been, neither of them had meant anything by it at the time. This whole situation they'd found themselves in was a mess. They’re stuck with each other against their will. And so he can’t figure out why, even if Hinata was horny, he would want to think about Kageyama—

They stare at each other.

"It's weird, right," Hinata says softly. "I know it's weird, that's why I've been avoiding you."

"Yeah, it's weird," Kageyama says. His voice feels thick in his throat. "So what, though?"

Hinata's expression glazes over. "My room is in South Hall," he says. "It's nearby."

Kageyama follows Hinata to his room in awkward silence. It's not that he hasn't thought about what happened between them, in the forest, the spell and the act that kicked everything off. He has thought about it, a lot; but it had all happened so fast, and he lacks the context necessary to know what to do next. He and Hinata aren't anything to each other, but accidentally made themselves everything to each other, apparently.

They slip into Hinata's room, and Kageyama closes the door behind them. He stares at the back of Hinata's head.

They bonded through a spell that should have been, judging from what everyone has said, impossible. He's thought about that a lot. The way it felt, Hinata's fingertips and palm burning through the layers of clothes and skin and bones, right through to his heart. He rubs at his chest again, right over the handprint tattoo he still sees every day in the mirror, and Hinata turns and looks straight into him. That's what it feels like. Kageyama doesn't know what to say.

"The last time we started with kissing," Hinata fills in. "That was…"

"It wasn't the worst," Kageyama murmurs, leaning in to find out if it will continue to be not the worst.

It takes him by surprise when Hinata reaches for him without hesitation. He slides his palms to rest against Kageyama's cheeks and lingers; with his eyes lidded, fiery lashes fluttering. He hardly breathes. His lips are soft and parted and so close to Kageyama's, Kageyama can almost feel them, the warmth.

Then he hears it, a nervous thought, passing nearly too quickly for him to catch: What if it's not the same?

Kageyama closes the nearly non-existent gap between them in an instant. Hinata shakes—one full-body shiver, when their lips meet.

Kageyama wonders, almost in retaliation, what if it's better?

Hinata moans, softly, and Kageyama pours himself into the kiss—manages to bring his hands up to grip Hinata's shoulders and anchor him there as Hinata's mouth falls open against his, wet and needy. He pushes closer, tongue sweeping across Kageyama's lips hungrily, insistently, and Kageyama suddenly feels too distant and impartial. He's been that way for far too long, considering he's supposed to be able to hear Hinata in his goddamn head—considering they are bound together.

He slides his hands down Hinata's chest, feeling it heave under his fingers. He knows what he wants, and so Hinata knows it, too, and he is already moving to help; reaching down to help tug his shirt up and off, as Kageyama rids himself of his own.

Hinata stares at his chest, at his own handprint tattooed over Kageyama's heart. Hinata wears the corresponding mark, Kageyama’s big handprint covering pale skin across the nape of Hinata’s neck. Kageyama wants to see it, suddenly, very much so. But then Hinata drags him back in again, hands grabbing, sliding over Kageyama's bare skin, and that seems so good—Kageyama responds in kind.

He hadn't done this the first time. Soft touching, slow touching. He'd been focused on the spell, on the unexpectedness of the situation, on not doing something incredibly wrong. That seems silly, now, when he could have been more focused on Hinata.

He wants to be focused on him this time.

Hinata gasps, as Kageyama tilts his head to the side, ducking in to press his lips to Hinata's chin, the underside of his jaw, his neck. He slides his hands up Hinata's back, palms pressing firmly against him, and draws his tongue over sweat-slicked skin in tandem.

"Oh—nnh, Kageyama—" Hinata mumbles. "That… feels…" Wanted this…

Kageyama's stomach jumps. Hinata wants this. They both do.

It doesn't take them long to stumble to the bed, stripping off the rest of each others' clothes as they go. Hinata pushes Kageyama down to sit onto it, but doesn't follow right away. Kageyama swallows.

"Come here," he says, tries to turn it into a demand rather than a plea at the last moment. Hinata must be able to tell, but he still shakes his head. Kageyama tries not to pout. He doesn't entirely succeed.

Hinata…

The way Hinata bites his lip when Kageyama thinks his name makes Kageyama's hips jump. He wants to rut against him, he wants to be in him—Hinata groans and slides down, to kneel between Kageyama's legs. Oh, god, he looks good there.

"L-last time…" Hinata licks his lips and looks up at Kageyama, who tries desperately not to think of anything too gross or explicit. "You said—or you thought something. About me. I want to try it."

Kageyama is hoarse when he responds. "Thought what?"

Hinata's lashes lower again, and Kageyama wants to ask him why he's being so coy, so shy and soft, and then he sees it, suddenly.

It's not a memory, but it's almost vivid enough to be one. A thought made of Hinata's imagination supplying the images, the sounds, the feelings.

Hinata, with Kageyama's cock down his throat, lips swollen and red; face flushed and eyes watering, Kageyama's hand in his hair, Kageyama rolling his hips and fucking his mouth—Hinata imagined this, after Kageyama thought he'd look good, and he would—and this image so vivid it could have been real suddenly becomes real, when Hinata whines and dives down, as soon as he feels how much Kageyama wants him.

Kageyama cries out, trying to stifle himself. It feels like fire sparking in his belly, Hinata's lips warm on the head of his cock, tongue swirling around it. Fuck.

"Hinata," he gasps, "you don't—j-just because I—"

Want to.

Kageyama inhales sharply through his nose. His hand finds its way into Hinata's hair, sifting through the soft strands and Hinata tells him, Pull it.

"Wh-what—" Kageyama is having a hard time processing, with the feeling of Hinata's mouth around him, the voice in his head, the knowledge that he is wanted—

Pull my hair.

Kageyama gasps and tightens his grip, fingers twisting against Hinata's scalp, and Hinata moans around him before sliding off him to lick him messily all over his shaft.

"I thought about this so much." Hinata’s breath is hot on Kageyama's cock. "Oh my god, I've been—" He laughs unsteadily, smiling right at Kageyama, despite the embarrassed flush across his cheeks. Something light and almost painful balloons inside Kageyama's chest. It's confusing. "This is why I couldn't look you in the eye at all—"

"Because," Kageyama says, with a distinct hitch in his voice, "you were thinking about blowing me?"

Hinata beams at him, like somehow this stupid observation is nothing less than delightful. "Yeah," he says, wiping his mouth with his hand, "and because I've been thinking about you every night to get off."

"O-oh," Kageyama says dumbly. Hinata is climbing into the bed now, on top of him. Kageyama doesn't know what to do, besides stare at him like he's never spoken to another human in his life before.

Hinata is still smiling at him. He settles himself in Kageyama's lap—he's not very heavy, but he is very warm, and his—his butt is really soft and kind of squishy on Kageyama's thighs.

"I'm not squishy," Hinata protests, and Kageyama shakes his head immediately, even though he just thought it. He didn't mean it in a bad way. Hinata giggles. "You're a lot more nice when you're naked."

"All my important parts are exposed to attack," Kageyama explains, and Hinata laughs even harder.

"Kageyama…" he murmurs, and Kageyama feels a whine bubbling up in his throat. He shoves it down. "Open your mouth."

When Kageyama does as asked, Hinata slips his fingers into his mouth for him to suck on. He feels his own face getting redder, with the way Hinata watches him. Hinata looks—good, when he's thinking about sex stuff, Kageyama thinks. His eyes lid, and his breath comes in little, heated pants through lips that are constantly plump and shiny from the way he bites them. Hinata leans closer, so Kageyama loses that view, but he shivers up the length of his whole body when he feels lips, then teeth, tug at his ear gently.

"You look good like this, too," Hinata breathes. "Can you do that thing? With the lube…"

He takes his fingers out of Kageyama's mouth, so Kageyama can Speak a brief spell, to turn the spit on Hinata’s fingers (and his cock, he remembers at the last second) into lube. Hinata hums and reaches behind himself. The last time they'd done this, neither of them had any idea what they were doing. Now…

Hinata's head falls back, and he sighs as he starts to finger himself. Kageyama watches in stunned awe.

"I figured out how to do this…" Hinata breathes. His voice is shaky. "I, um…"

He seems to be having trouble talking, but then he settles into Kageyama's lap, so he can drop his forehead to Kageyama's, and that's when Kageyama sees.

Hinata tried the first time and barely managed to get a finger in before giving up and rubbing one out while stifling his moans into his pillow.

The next time he did manage to finger himself, but he couldn't find that same spot Kageyama had, the one that made him gasp and cry—

I found it eventually! Hinata protests, feeling Kageyama’s surge of smugness.

Yeah, but I found it first, dumbass.

Okay, well, I've found it a lot more times now.

Hinata can annoy Kageyama, it seems, as easily as he can make Kageyama want to pin him down and rub against him until they both can't move anymore. He grabs Hinata's face between his hands as he sees, clear as day—

Hinata, flat on his back, knees by his ears as he worked himself open with three fingers. He held his legs up with his arm hooked under his legs, gasping as he shuddered bodily, over and over, Kageyama's name.

Kageyama growls and moves his hands to grab Hinata's ass, kneading his fingers into Hinata's round cheeks, before dragging him closer, until Hinata's thighs are spread wide across his lap and his dick is pressed to Kageyama's. Hinata moans, body lifting and falling on his own fingers.

"I want…" he gasps, and when he can't get the words out, he thinks it instead.

I want to fuck myself on your cock.

Kageyama's mind goes blank. He can only think one thing, and it matches so perfectly with Hinata's thoughts in his own head that it's like a lull, a deep silence, broken only by:

Yes.

It's not like their first time. They'd both been barely ready, then, and it was mostly frantic eagerness, and the spell high, that made it possible for Kageyama to frantically pound Hinata until they both ended up coming; and sealing themselves into some kind of lifelong magical contract, but that's besides the point.

The point is, this time, there is no magic to help them along. It's just Hinata doing the work, because Kageyama is out of his mind with desire. After seeing Hinata's memories, watching Hinata aching for him like that, trying to satisfy himself, needing it so much he couldn't face him—Kageyama can't do anything but sit there and hope his dick doesn't explode and fly clean off him like a deflating balloon. He's never been this desperate to come in his life (honestly, it's not something he's been all that interested in at all, before stupid Hinata came along); and now, Hinata is rocking up onto his knees in his lap, naked and tempting and soft under his hands, and looking at him like Kageyama's body is his to use as he pleases.

It turns out alright, that they aren't worried about old books and spells and the mage speech this time. None of it is needed, when Hinata already feels like magic.

Hinata is as tight around his cock as he was last time, but unlike before, he's in control like this, arms draped around Kageyama's neck, sitting fully on him, biting his lip at the fullness. Kageyama can feel what he wants, runs his hands slowly over Hinata's body, and Hinata moans for him.

He starts riding Kageyama's cock like he was meant for it, runs his slender little fingers down Kageyama's chest and plants his palms on Kageyama's pecs as he rocks his hips, raises himself on his knees before slamming back down again. He's being aggressive—he's taking Kageyama, and Kageyama feels like he's being pulled apart, every time Hinata rises and falls on his dick, smooth, rough heat.

Without quite meaning to, he lets his hand fly up, to grip the back of Hinata's neck—and he feels his hand quite literally locking into place there as he remembers, the tattoo.

It happens again. Everything Hinata feels—the sheer bliss, the relief, and happiness, too; Kageyama feels it. That's what undoes him, finally. Hinata is so inexplicably happy, to be with him like this.

A little while, Kageyama hears him think. I just want this for a little while.

Kageyama grabs one of Hinata's hands, and drags it into place over the mark on his heart, where it slots, a perfect mirror of the tattoo.

Hinata freezes, going rigid in his lap. And Kageyama feels his own heart then, an echoing beat that he swears is so strong that it pulses in waves outside himself; Hinata cries out—moans again, but it's high and long and loud, and Kageyama surges forward to press their lips together, in an attempt to muffle the sound.

The sudden influx of sensation seems to have rendered Hinata totally powerless, which is a different but wonderful thing all on its own; now Kageyama can wrap an arm around his whole waist (so small) to press Hinata close to him, chest to chest, as he takes over. Hinata feels like he's burning, warmth bleeding off of him. Kageyama fucks him slowly, and lets Hinata bury his face in his neck.

He knows when he's found that spot again, because he feels it through Hinata, his own pleasure spiking as Hinata squirms and cries out in his arms.

That's twice, he thinks. Hinata pounds his shoulder with a closed fist before gripping it tightly, fingers digging into Kageyama's flesh hard enough that Kageyama is sure he'll see marks later. He hopes he will.

He knows right when Hinata is about to come—Hinata tenses up, squeezing tight around his cock, spine going rigid. Kageyama crushes him against his chest and groans, because it finishes him, too; he can feel the whole thing through their bond, and there's no way to guard against the intense rush of Hinata's orgasm, or the knowledge that he's the one making Hinata shudder like that, soundless as he finishes. Kageyama holds him close and gasps, hips rolling as he spills inside Hinata.

That's twice runs through his mind again, but not as a boast, this time. He can't believe he's come inside Hinata twice. He can't really believe Hinata wanted this from him again.

Hinata sinks against him, body limp, and very sweaty. Slowly, Kageyama pushes at him until he takes the hint, lifting enough to let Kageyama pull out with a wince. Hinata's hand slides from its place on Kageyama's chest, and Kageyama loosens his grip on the back of Hinata's neck. But he can still hear what Hinata is thinking, and vice versa.

You better believe it. Even Hinata's thoughts sound sleepy. Be ready to go again in fifteen minutes.

Kageyama severely doubts Hinata will be awake in fifteen minutes.

I will!

He deserves a good smack on the ass, and Kageyama delivers it. Hinata yelps, and squashes his face into Kageyama's neck.

"Are you too good for talking out loud, now?" Kageyama asks pointedly.

"You said you liked it," Hinata reminds him, shifting to get comfortable. Kageyama rolls his eyes.

"Not constantly."

"Make up your mind." Hinata quickly covers his rear end with both hands as Kageyama considers whacking him again. "I liked you before, you know."

This distracts Kageyama sufficiently. "Huh?"

Hinata burrows further into his neck, mumbling when he speaks next. "Before the spell. I didn't… know it at the time, but I saw you and you just—stuck."

"I stuck?" Kageyama repeats. "What does that mean?" He feels Hinata shrug.

"You were just there, in my head. Kinda like now, but less obvious." He trails off, hesitant. "I knew it wasn't like that for you. That's why I've been… weird."

Something twinges, strangely, inside Kageyama's chest. No, it hadn't been like that for him. He'd run into Hinata several times before they'd been paired off and forced to work together, and he does remember being baffled by the oddness of Hinata. But it was the first time he felt Hinata's Words, his magic, shaping itself around his own that something had truly changed.

It's not the spell that made things different, though, not really. It just made him notice. And then, like Hinata said—it had stuck.

"I'm here because of you," Hinata says softly.

Kageyama shakes his head. "You'd still have gotten in without me."

Hinata laughs, very gently—sleep is finally winning out. He curls up against Kageyama, who wonders what to say, about the way he feels now. He might be out of luck until Hinata wakes up. But then he hears the smallest whisper of a thought—or a memory.

I've been looking for you for so long…

Kageyama looks down at him in surprise. "What… do you mean?"

But Hinata is asleep, already.

If you missed what exactly these two idiots did in order to start reading each others’ minds, here’s the fic!

More Kinktober? I feel a strong connection between us! ^^

#kagehina #hinata shouyou #kageyama tobio #haikyuuwriters #kinktober #kinktober2017 #kagehina fanfiction #haikyuu!! fanfiction #haikyuu!!#esselle writes #tumblr fic #mage au #nsft #essie's hq fic

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