#I have a few other drawings I’d like to do of these two and i can use this one as a ref which is nice

[ninawolv3rina]

Biblically accurate Murder Eternal height difference

OCs: Lazenwyn “Laz” Atwater (he/they), John Whitney (he/him)

[trollbreak]

One of these days I’m gonna actually make beastly art in like his actual colors but um. I’m having fun returning to my comfy play scape lately <3

[atrwriting]

kisses and other sweet things — billy the kid x cowgirl!reader

ok… i couldn’t help myself lol

also side note i don’t remember what scene this gif was from but i feel like his turned on look and look of disgust/confusion is the same — like if i hadn’t watched the show i’d be like “did he just see a pretty girl walk in?? or did someone just threaten him?? both??? hopefully both???”

but like also if he looked at me like that…,,,… melting. on the spot.

as always, warnings: smuuuuut, dom!billy, brat!reader, i don’t know if you can call it non-con but just to be safe im going to put that, p in v sex, oral, spitting in mouth (yeah i went there sue me), tears, biting, cums inside of reader (they didn’t have condoms in his time but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t use them!!!!)

also don’t sue me i don’t know if they had running water (sinks, baths, etc) but also the real billy the kid didn’t look this fine so we’re making it up as we go and going with the flow

ENOUGH TALK — here’s kisses and other sweet things…

you had been working with a crew for some time now, and as you all struggled to keep a cash flow — you had to turn to other things.

like joining forces with another crew.

the idea of joining a crew wasn’t what unsettled you — what unsettled you was being the only woman with a gun with even more men.

it’s just for one job, y’all, they had said. just this one.

one job turned into two. then that turned into three. four, five, six — and suddenly you knew everyone’s back story, drink of choice, and their type when it came to women of the night.

your first crew never asked how you felt, but you also never told them. they were all — including you — in it for the money. at the end of the day, it was all about what you had in your pockets. there was no time for quelling the simple worries, like they’d call the ones in your head.

at the end of the day — you had been doing this a long time. you had taken care of yourself up until this point, and you would continue to do so. didn’t matter who you were working with — you’d get it done.

after a day of success, everyone wanted to blow off steam. you all had found a boarding house for the night where the alcohol ran deep and there was two or three pretty women for each cattle rustler in your large group. you stayed behind a bit to drink with them, but once they started eyeing the women — you knew it was time to go.

sleeping with any of the men you worked with was also a bad idea. you couldn’t afford them seeing you as anything less than someone quick with a draw — and you worried a night of meaningless sex would ruin that.

you would never take the chance.

“have your fun, boys,” you chuckled. “you deserve it.”

“won’t stay a little longer, sweetheart?” your leader asked as a girl licked at his neck.

“another time — bath’s calling my name.”

a few pleasantries were thrown over shoulders, and you returned them. you made your quick escape up the stairway and into the shared washroom between three or four bedrooms. you knew your party had rented those rooms for the evening, so you were very excited to be able to have the bath to yourself for a little bit longer than usual.

you filled the tub with scalding hot water. the steam from the water and the whisky in your stomach made you hazy, but you welcomed it. who knew when you’d have until you had this sort of luxury or privacy again — you weren’t going to waste the chance.

the bath was quite large — fit for two or three people. you stayed on one edge as you washed your dirty skin. you were about to relax against the back when the doorknob began to turn.

you immediately snatched your gun and pointed it at the door.

“shit — sorry.”

it was the bonney kid.

he was holding a towel in his hand and was naked from the waist up. a scared look on his face was present as he tried to avert his eyes.

you put down the gun and raised an eyebrow, waiting for his next move.

“just came to wash up,” he spoke.

you knew he couldn’t see anything from where he stood, and you knew he wouldn’t be able to see below the water’s surface with the bubbles. you could tell him to fuck off — but being mean to some of these assholes sometimes proved to be worse than just swallowing your pride and being nice. you didn’t know billy very well — and you weren’t about to find out while you were naked if he was an asshole or not.

“i’m going to be a bit,” you spoke. “i don’t mind if you come in.”

he looked at you uneasily before nodded curtly, lips parting. you closed your eyes and leaned back against the tub, letting your eyes drift closed. you heard the water running and the sound of soap being scrubbed onto skin, and felt better. the next sound you heard was a razor being pulled out and your eye drifted open.

he was shaving.

he kept his gaze on himself in the mirror as he spoke. “surprised the kid can shave?”

you smiled. “never thought you were a kid from how you were with a gun.”

that made him smile. “never seen a women like you with a gun before.”

you hummed in response, not exactly sure how to respond.

“come up here to escape?”

that made you laugh. you couldn’t help but let your gaze fall on his reflection in the mirror. his eyes were trained on his skin as he let the blade slide down his neck and pull up loose hairs. your mind was hazy with drink and heat, which made you forget to respond.

“some people would say it’s rude to stare, sweetheart.”

you laughed at that — he had you there.

“and some people would say it’s rude to intrude on a woman’s bath,” you countered.

he smiled, but kept his eyes off you. you’d like to think it was out of respect. “…and would you?”

“not with you,” you offered. “you’re the only one who hasn’t tried to make a pass at me.”

“not hard to believe,” he spoke. “downstairs they’ve got a running bet to see who will be the first with you.”

you scoffed. “in their dreams.”

billy didn’t respond. he was almost done with shaving. he was washing more of his upper arms in the sink, and you suddenly felt bad. you were only taking this long because you thought everyone would be preoccupied with the downstairs activities, and because you couldn’t exactly exit with him standing there — able to see you.

“i can leave if you want to wash,” you spoke.

“water will be cold,” he responded. “‘s fine — i’ll wait the hour.”

you weren’t sure why — but that made you feel bad.

“you could join me.”

you weren’t sure what brought that on, and you knew you’d probably regret it later. however, billy’s eyes drifted up the length of the mirror to the edge where you knew he could see the tub, to your eyes. you weren’t sure how you looked — but you knew your curls were piled on top of your head and you looked sleepy. relaxed, even. peaceful.

“i don’t think you mean that, sweetheart.”

you hummed. “you don’t have to. just thought i’d offer.”

he appeared to sigh, and that’s when you thought he would leave — but he didn’t.

instead, he locked the door.

“should’ve done that in the first place,” he spoke before coming towards the tub to unlace his pants.

you turned your head away from him and let out a small giggle, shielding your gaze from his naked form. “how would we have gotten so well acquainted then, mr. bonney?”

you heard him find the other side of the tub where he sat back against. you let your eye line find in front of you and your jaw almost dropped at the sight. billy appeared to struggle to get comfortable as he sank into the warmth of the tub. the water line came up to right under his chest, showing off all of his perfect and trim muscles. with billy’s arms stretched out around the edge of the tub… you got the perfect view of the stretched muscles of his biceps.

“do i need to remind you about staring?” he asked.

you weren’t sure if he was joking — but he was right. if you wanted respect, you had to give it, too.

but you couldn’t deny just how handsome he was.

“sorry,” you said with a coy smile, and let your head fall back against the tub again.

you could hear water slightly splashing from the other side of the tub. billy had extended his legs so they were brushing yours slightly, and you shivered at the thought.

“can you…” he began. “can you get my back?”

you lifted your head and smiled. i can do all that and more if you asked, you thought.

“sure,” you said with a simple smile.

billy turned around and handed you the soap. there were a few cuts and bruises littered on his back, and you tried to be as careful with them as possible. you started on his neck, working the soap and the sponge against his muscles.

he hummed in response. you could’ve died at the thought of the big, bad billy the kid keening into your touch because you were massaging his muscles just right.

“that feels good,” he spoke. “talented fingers i suppose.”

you laughed lightly at that. you kept the sponge on his shoulders, and then worked down towards the expansion of his shoulder blades. it was scary to see such a broad man before you as you were so bare, but also the look of him was so enticing. you drew rough circles on his skin and worked your way down to the middle of his back.

“that’s good,” he replied. “thank you, darlin’.”

you went to hand the sponge back to him, but he turned around in place instead. the tops of your breasts were showing and you knew he could see the wildness in your eyes.

“how’d a sweet thing like you end up with us?” he asked, eyes searching yours for the answer.

“maybe i’m just the only one who knows how to handle you boys,” you spoke, trying to be coy. “actually… one of them i grew up with. we’ve always worked together, but that’s as far as it’s ever gone.”

“and what would he say if he knew if you were in here with me?” he asked.

you scrunched your eyebrows at him. “wouldn’t be his business. he’s also got a pretty blonde in his lap tonight. change of pace from his usual red head.”

“and he missed a chance to get to see you like this?” he asked, tucking a curl behind your ear.

“is his loss your gain, mr. bonney?” you asked, a smile drifting onto your face.

that was bold. you knew it. you could feel it.

“i think you’d have to ask the pretty miss before me,” he responded, inching his face closer. “she’d be mighty sweet if she let me kiss her.”

“she’s pretty pissed you haven’t already.”

he stared at you for a few minutes with his plump and pink lips parted in such a way where you knew thoughts were running behind his pretty eyes. he dipped his forehead towards yours as the intensity of the situation mixed with the hot steam around you and the liquor inside both of you. he dipped his chin once, and caught your waiting lips with ease.

his lips were dry and cracked against yours, but you loved it. billy was the type of man that was hard and worked even harder, and every bit of him reflected that. his dark curls were twirling around his hairline, mixing with sweat and soapy water. you wanted to brush them back, hop in his lap, and kiss him until there was more water on the floor than in the tub.

but you couldn’t — not yet.

billy’s lips folded between yours as if he was just happy to be here — with you. the feeling was intoxicating as there was nothing like sharing intimacy with a sweet man in the comfort of hot water. you couldn’t help yourself in that moment — you brought your hand up to cup the side of his face, and he sucked in a sharp breath in response.

“you can touch me, you know,” you whispered.

“the things i want to do to you, darlin’…” he spoke, shaking his head and trying to catch his breath at the same time. “shouldn’t be wasted in a tub. let me take you back to your room.”

you both left the bathtub and tried your best to dry off as quickly as possible. it was almost hard to believe you were giggling with billy like innocents as you raced back to your room — hoping not to run into any more cowboys.

you immediately pushed him to sit down on the edge of the bed before you climbed into his lap. his thighs were strong and thick — the perfect foundation for a thing like you to hold yourself up enough to grab his cock in your hands, and swallow his moans through another kiss.

“tried not to stare in the bathtub, billy… but can you blame me?” you asked, breathless.

“noticed you starin’,” he grunted, running his calloused hands all over your body. “couldn’t help but stare back. needed to see where the trigger on you was.”

you squealed in delight at his dirty mouth before he threw you off his lap and rolled you over. he immediately started kissing down your body.

“i want you inside me, billy,” you whined. “not that.”

he worked his way back up to you before he caught you in another chaste kiss. against your lips, he spoke, “i’m a gentleman, sweetheart, first and foremost.”

“and what if a dirty little thing like me didn’t want a gentleman?”

he caught your chin in between his pointer finger and thumb and extended your neck ever so slightly. he looked down his nose at your pretty, flushed face. you smiled up at him as he scanned your face. “then i’d tell you — if i’ve got you all to myself, i’m going to do anything i want with that pretty little pussy. planned on tastin’ you, sweetheart — you got a problem with that?”

a wide grin spread across your face as your cheeks became rosier. “can’t say i can argue with you, then, cowboy.”

he pressed a heavy kiss to your lips, your cheek, one on the base of your neck — and then bit down hard on the skin of your shoulder. immediately, your hands came up to lay across his biceps before he began to suck on the spot, sending shock waves throughout your body. he withdrew from you and was in between your thighs in an instant.

he spread your legs and held them down in place. his tongue was strong and thick as it explored the places between your folds. you hoisted yourself onto your elbows so you could get a better look at the angel before you.

you watched as his eyes close as his tongue drew sloppy, wet circles around your clit. your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you watched him bring a hand up to his mouth, lubricate his fingers, and prod at your entrance. billy let out a throaty groan as his two fingers slipped in with ease, exploring for that one special spot.

he watched as your pussy swallowed his fingers, hoping to trap them inside of you. you were almost vibrating at how good it felt to have his fingers inside of you and his drier thumb deliver the most delicious bouts of friction and pressure to your clit.

“yes —“ you gasped, gazing at his fingers.

his eyes immediately flicked up to yours. “still got a problem with this, doll?”

you folded your lips into each other as you shook your head slowly, holding his gaze. you were biting back the moan as he curled your fingers inside of you.

“no, that’s not how this works,” he stated. “if i’m making you feel that good, i should get to hear those pretty moans, don’t you think?”

a deep crease was forming in your brow with the perfect combination of friction, lubrication, pressure, and rhythm you had ever felt. you wanted to respond to him, of course, but how could you?

“i gotta work for it, that it?” he grunted. “oh, sweet thing…”

he shoved a third finger inside of you and you gasped. you couldn’t help it. you fisted the sheets on either side of you and threw your head back in the air. his thumb was working long, drawn out circles on your sensitive clit as your hips bucked up to meet his movements.

“that’s what you needed, baby?” he asked. “break so easily. i’d fit another, but this pussy is so sweet and tight — can’t fit.”

you were practically whining at his words. he would switch between his tongue and thumb every few seconds to show you the type of variety that had your toes curling. his groans against your pussy were the added vibration that kept your hips moving to meet his face.

“tastes so fuckin’ sweet,” he grunted, his eyes closed. “can’t wait to stuff my cock in there.”

“don’t be mean to me, billy,” you gasped. “i want to feel your cock so bad, please…”

“no, baby,” he refused. “not until i make you feel good. you want my cock? yeah, well — you know what i want.”

you whined in frustration at his words — his words, the addition of what was making the heat and pressure build, and build, and build inside you until you were a sobbing mess on the bed.

“that’s it, sweetheart — give in,” he gasped. “i wanna know how good i’m making you feel.”

his voice was so husky it was taking over all of your senses. you hung onto every word as he led you closer and closer to what was your tipping point. he was stretching you so taut — like a string, ready to snap. when he suddenly pulled his hand away, you barely noticed it — until he replaced it with his cock.

you gasped at what came next.

first it was your legs — they immediately began to shake uncontrollably. the immense pressure started at your curled toes, your stretched feet, and worked its way up all the way to your shaking calves and thighs. the warmth coaxed your hips into a soft roll as you rode out your orgasm — blinded by the ecstasy of it all.

you immediately grabbed onto billy for dear life as all of your senses fucking swam. it was wave, after wave, after wave that hit you, arched your back towards the ceiling, and left you fucking breathless. your mouth fell open instantly, parted as whines and soft moans left and filled the open air of your bedroom.

and what did billy do? he grabbed you by the chin, still rutting his hips against yours, and spit in your fucking mouth.

“swallow,” he ordered, eyes boring down into yours.

you gasped as you understood his command, and like the good girl you were — you did as you were told.

“good girl,” he whispered from above you, stroking your chin.

you sucked in a sharp breath of air as you tried to regain your senses. you hoisted yourself back into your elbows, trying to focus — but it was just so hard. your pussy was so, so sensitive and it was like billy’s cock knew exactly out how to drag out your orgasm. you glanced up at billy, and realized your vision was blurry. shattered, fucked out beyond belief — you realized there were tears, literal tears in your eyes.

“no breaks for you, sweetheart,” he spoke, leaning over and holding your hips down. “need to make sure this pussy knows who she belongs to.”

your body refused to stop shaking — but it gave into every touch, caress, pull, and push from billy. you were his to use and you fucking relished in the feeling.

through your dark, thick, damp lashes, you glanced up at him. immediately, his bright, wild eyes connected with yours. there was no stopping the animal before you — not until he got his fix. the pure and pretty girl who always surprised the group with her skill was laying beneath him like a fucked out doll and he couldn’t get enough.

“please, billy,” you whined, biting down on your lip. “use my pussy just like that…”

“my fucking pussy,” he grunted.

“all yours, baby,” you gasped, laying victim to the curling warmth inside your womb once again. it was like an itch that needed to be scratched, and only billy could fix it. the idea of a second orgasm taunted you — teased you, until it was the only thing you could think about. you were close… so close… “billy, fuck — you’re going to make me — you’re gonna —“

“that’s it, baby, yeah —“ his thrusts were getting sloppier now as a light sheen of sweat lay across his forehead. the veins in his biceps and neck were protruding and his eyes were trained on your face. “bein’ so good f’me.”

“billy —“ you cried, tears coming to your eyes again. you reached for him, and brought him down to you. he held you by the back of the head and held your jaw in place with his thumb. through gritted teeth and wet eyes, you sobbed, “driving me fucking crazy.”

“yeah, yeah?” he taunted. “good. boutta make a mess of this fuckin’ pussy.”

with one last thrust, you curled into billy’s neck and cried. actually cried. he held you close to him as he continued to thrust inside of you — pressing fat, wet kisses to the side of your face. you were shaking in his hold, trying so desperately to hold onto reality — but it was slipping. it was slipping farther and farther away with every sweet word that billy ghosted over your ear.

“say you’re mine,” he ordered, with desperation in your voice. “say you’re mine, and i’ll cum.”

“i’m yours, billy,” you sobbed. “i’m yours. only yours.”

an animalistic groan left billy’s mouth as he tugged on your hair. he pulled your neck back and taut, shoving his face into the crook of your neck and biting down on your shoulder. his body pulsed one, two, three times as his orgasm overtook him and you. you were a weeping, crying mess and took everything that billy gave you.

he rut his cock into you a few more times as you both came down for your highs. billy was so commanding in bed — but after? nothing compared to how he was after. he pulled you into his lap, cock still inside you, and began peppering kisses all over your face. sweet nothings were whispered into your ear, but all you could do was whimper quietly in response. he laughed slightly in your ear, his breath ticking your sensitive skin, and dug his nose into your hairline.

“never getting rid of me now, sweet thing.”

- - -

would love to hear your thoughts :)

-L

[yuamin]

ORORUN REDRAW GUIDE !

i think we’ve all seen the atrocity that is genshin’s unreleased character, ororun. the entirety of natlan is a mess really, but as a yoruba person myself i CANNOT keep quiet about ororun specifically.

outside yoruba mythology, in yoruba, ‘Olorun’ (the name ororun is based on, pronounced o-law-roon , with o pronounced as in orange and the ‘roon’ pronounced shortly, not dragged on at all) is actually the same word we often use to refer to God in Christianity. Christianity is the primary religion among us yorubas so honestly, i was kinda glad they misspelled his name. it would feel SO disrespectful referring to whatever that thing is with the same word we use to refer to God who we actually worship. religion aside, genshin’s depiction of Olorun (cultural god, not Christian one) is downright disgusting. i’d never paid too much attention to genshin and its poor representation, but now that my culture has fallen victim to it, i completely understand all the outrage.

edit: please note that while we use ‘Olorun’ to refer to the Christian God, Olorun is just a general word for ‘god’ itself ! for example if i say “God in heaven” and “god of thunder” we know i’m referring to two different beings, in yoruba it’s the kind of the same—the same word is used to refer to both the Christian and other gods, but we know it’s different, even though olorun can be capitalized regardless of what god we’re talking about (unlike english where the Christian God is capitalized and other gods aren’t) at the end of the day though, when we say “olorun” even without context, we are usually referring to the christian God !

1. PLEASE DO NOT DRAW HIM WITH ANIMAL EARS !

i’ve noticed that hoyoverse has this nasty habit of portraying every dark skinned character as wild or animal-esque. kaeya seems to be the only exception to this. even xinyan, though lacking any animal features, has this wild energy to her. some might call it a stretch, but i feel like her features are pretty feline in comparison to other liyue characters.

Olorun in our culture is the supreme god of the heavens. In my opinion, it is disrespectful to liken him to something akin to an animal. normally i wouldn’t even mind that much, but with how hoyo makes its few dark characters more and more like animals, i can’t help but feel weird about it. its really off putting.

2. HIS HAIR WOULD NOT BE CURLY !

majority of nigerians have 4C HAIR. not wavy hair or loose curls. some have 4B, but 4C is the usual here, that is, kinky or coily hair. Olorun is often portrayed as bald in traditional art, but trust me if he had hair his hair would resemble his people’s, not Tyla’s.

DREADLOCKS ARE A YES ! outside nigeria, locking hair is pretty common, but in nigeria a lot of people have locks naturally. our hair sometimes just grows out that way, no treatment no nothing. dreads are 100% an appropriate style, they look good asf too.

3. PLEASE USE CULTURAL FABRICS IN YOUR DESIGNS !

when i saw ororun’s outfit, i almost started crying. they couldn’t even bother to dress him up a little. they really dressed my brother in a scarf and cape and called it a day 😭 upon how fashionable we nigerians are know to be, hoyoverse still made it their mission to embarrass us stylistically. God knows my people have suffered man 😭

ankara is a traditional nigerian fabric that features bright colors and lots of patterned designs. see below:

here in 9ja, we love our ankara. it’s a big part of our fashion here and trust me it would look excellent in your designs. it’s perfectly fine to draw ororun in normal fabrics since he’s a deity and it’s not like ankara existed back then, but if you really want to represent nigeria, ankara is a must 🙏

i’m going to address another fashion piece because if you search up nigerian fashion you’ll see it a lot: beads.

these orange beads are igbo (another tribe here in nigeria) NOT yoruba. does this mean you can’t use it in olorun’s design ? no ! let me explain. tbh, here in nigeria there’s a bit of...tension between clans. it’s not that common, but older people are definitely a lot more tribalist. as a yoruba i love my igbo brothers and sisters, i truly believe they’re the most fashionable clan and i adore their festivities, they always go over the top. please, just look at them:

(only one image because of image caps, ugh)

anyway, we yorubas wear beads too. but the specific way the beads are worn around the head and in multiple layers round the neck is igbo, not yoruba. though i personally wouldn’t care too much if i saw olorun with igbo beads since all i want is for him to at least look nigerian, at the end of the day he is a yoruba deity. it might be disrespectful to dress the god of one clan as if he belongs to another, especially since there is so much historical ( and very slight but uncommon present ) day tension between both clans.

here’s a more yoruba outfit. sorry yall, it might be hard for you to distinguish if you’re not yoruba or igbo, but a lot of nigerians can tell the difference at a glance. ( actually nowadays, there is so much overlap between yoruba and igbo fashion, but there are many specific styles that may be associated with one tribe and not the other, for example how beads are worn in the above paragraph ) please do your research, he’s not only a nigerian god, but a yoruba one.

one more thing, because i know it will start discourse : skin tone.

nigerians have a very diverse range of skin tones. some of us are so pale, if not for our afrocentric features we could maybe pass for another race. however, ororun is yoruba.

light skinned nigerians are usually igbo. not to say that yorubas can’t be light skin, but here in nigeria if you saw a light skinned person, we’d automatically assume they were igbo. igbo people usually have lighter skin tones. majority of yorubas fall on the more milk to dark chocolate end of the skin tone spectrum. i’m saying this now because i know a lot of people are going to start arguments over ororun being redrawn as ‘too light’ or ‘too dark.’ i don’t really care about complexion, but i thought i’d help you all get your facts right.

that’s it ! if you read all this i’m super thankful. i don’t usually post about this kind of stuff but i honestly love my country and could go on about it for days. nigeria is such a beautiful place with a diverse range of cultures— from hausas to fulanis to so many more. natlan was supposed to be Africa’s time to shine, as well as latin americans, but hoyoverse said fuck you and your people. they did this to an extent with sumeru but natlan was done straight up dirty—not a single melanated character in sight, and the only one who does have melanin, iansan, looks so desaturated you might as well call her grey. i saw someone on tiktok call mualani a dark skinned character—it was at that point that i knew genshin was done for.

please REBLOG this post so it reaches more people and artists in the fandom !! this is literally the third time i’m making this post because tumblr refuses to show it in the tags for some reason 😭 i encourage other cultures who feel misrepresented to make posts like this too. it’s a perfect opportunity to educate and inform people about the diverse cultures genshin has once again failed to represent properly.

Hoyo has never been one to make customer satisfaction their top priority, but we’ve been able to call them out before and i truly believe we can do it again. Natlan is not poor design choice. it is blatant racism, a nation based on POC ethnicities with not a single colored character insight. Hoyoverse has been able to escape racism accusations for as long as i can remember, but natlan is the icing on the cake. we CANNOT allow hoyo to proceed as planned without giving them the appropriate backlash.

Also, if you redraw ororun using this guide, make sure to tag me here or on my main blog, @heartkaji !! i’d love to see all your redesigns. once again, thank you all for reading and have an amazing day !!

[trendywaifus]

WEEK ONE

↳ double pleasure

two powerful women fucking you into an oblivion.

featuring— transfem! acheron & ei x fem! reader

cw: double penetration, oral fixation, overstimulation, mind dumbfication, blowjob, mild face fucking, size kink, belly bulge, soft sex, creampie, unprotected sex, praise, pwp

sinful hands explored your body, making quick work of removing every article of clothing from your person. ei attaches her lips to your collarbone while archeron’s lips kisses the nape of your neck. almost immediately, you’re reduced to a puddle, whimpering and drawing in sharp breaths as ei plays with your breasts. she drags her lips down your heated skin until it’s wrapped around one of your hardened nipples. her hot tongue greedily swirls around the perky bud, occasionally sucking and tugging at it.

you whimpered, gripping the back of ei’s head, silently urging her to continue. “ it seems like our pretty lady is enjoying this, huh? ” acheron chuckles lowly in your ear, giving your ass a nice squeeze. her hand reaches around your waist to dive in between your legs. you let out a sharp gasp as she plays with your clit and runs her fingers up and down your wet folds. “ indeed our dearest is, “ ei pulls away from your nipple with a wet pop. “ and if we get a little rough, i apologize in advance. “

ei straightens her back until she’s eye level with you. taking your jaw in her palm, she pulls you into a passionate kiss full of tongue, her wet muscle hungrily explores your wet cavern. “ you think you can take care of me after you two are done, pretty? admittedly, i’m getting impatient. “ acheron whispers in your ear, grinding herself against your ass.

“ mhm, “ you hummed, swirling your tongue around ei’s for a few moments until she retracts away, a thin string of saliva connecting you and ei’s lips. her half–lidded glowing, amethyst eyes peers into yours. she blurts out, “ please have a seat on my face beloved, i’m curious about how you taste. “ you blinked at her as well as the other counterpart.

acheron lets out a breathy laugh, “ i didn’t think i’d be so daring to request such a thing. this is perhaps perfect for me. “

within minutes, you’re sitting on ei’s face while she’s making out with your pussy, holding you down by the hips. acheron’s stands over you, gently pressing the flushed tip of her cock against your slightly parted lips. “ can you open wide for me?” she asks softly, looking down at you with a warm smile despite the needy look in her eyes. entranced by her gentleness, you complied, allowing her thick length to slowly slide inside your mouth.

“ good girl. . “ acheron groans, running her fingers through your hair. you enclosed your lips around her once you feel her hit the back of your throat. you only have half of her in your mouth and she already feels so heavy on your tongue, tensing your jaw. “ you look so beautiful like this, “ she mutters, admiring the cute concentrated look on your face as you struggled to accommodate her size. “ you don’t have to do anything, i’ll move. tap me if it’s too much. “

and she does, slowly moving her hips out and back in each time her cockhead grazes your throat. you rock yourself against ei’s face as she slurps and laps up your juices. she’s surprisingly a moaning mess just like you are. one of many broken moans spills from your lips; one that particularly causes acheron to grunt from its vibration. your tongue eagerly licks anywhere it can reach, eliciting a soft moan from acheron.

her thrusts grows subtly careless as her cockhead slowly eases deeper down your throat, you’re nearly gagging. “ you feel so great—i-i am barely keeping myself in control here.” acheron confesses jokingly, tenderly scratching your scalp with graceful fingers. you let out a loud, muffled moan, eyes beautifully rolling to the back your head from ei overstimulating your squirting pussy. “ forgive me dearest, i must of gotten carried away. ” ei mumbles, noticing your thighs trembling against the sides of her head. she places apologetic kisses to your inner thighs.

“ clearly. “ acheron sighs, her gaze still fixated on your tear–stricken face. she pulls her cock from your mouth so you can breath properly. “ w-want. .” you panted between shaky breaths.

the galaxy ranger pats your head affectionately, “ catch your breath first before you continue, sweetheart— “

“ ‘w-want you and ei i-inside of me—pl-please. “ you whimpered, looking up at the woman with dazed, yet desperate eyes that made her cheeks flush red. acheron clears her throat, “ i-i see. but let’s slow down princess, i’m not sure if you can take two of us at the same time— “

“ if that’s what you wish for, dearest, then i shall grant it. “ ei removes you from her face and swiftly positions you over her weeping cock. hands gripping your hips, she helps you sink down and stares in awe at the sight of your dripping cunt swallowing her length. the deity moans loudly from the tight sensation of your warm walls clamping around her length. back pressed against the tatami mat, she thrusts her hips upwards, giving you momentum to start bouncing on her cock.

acheron watched as you continue to shamelessly ride ei, her eyes travels down to your pretty tits bouncing up and down, her cock twitches with anticipation. “ if you truly do want us so bad, “ acheron joins the two of you on the mat, she presses her palm against your back, gently bending you down until your upper body is pressed against ei’s. she hovers over your back, spreading your ass cheeks apart to line herself with your puckering hole. “ then i guess i have no choice but to grant you your wish as well. “

she uses her pre-cum mixed with your drool as lube and teases your hole. acheron carefully falls on your back, wrapping an arm around your waist while the other is against the mat for support. “ i know it’s going to be uncomfortable at first, but i’ll do my best to be as gentle as possible. like i’ve mentioned before, indicate to me or tell me when you want to stop if it gets too much. “

acheron slowly pushes herself inside, placing several apologetic kisses to your back as she hears soft pained noises erupting from your throat. ei, who stopped moving so you can adjust accordingly, cradles your cheeks with delicate hands and guides your face towards her. she peers at you with soft eyes, “ if you wish to find more comfort during this process, please, allow me to provide it for you, dearest. “ ei pulls you into a gentle kiss, so gentle and sweet it made your heart warm. after several minutes of soft kisses and words of encouragement and praises, acheron was able to fully fit inside.

“ y-you can move, acheron and ei. i’m okay. “ you said, burying your face into ei’s neck.

“ of course, sweetheart. “

“ of course, beloved. “

once they started fucking your pussy and ass simultaneously, you soon became helplessly dumb. you were such a pretty babbling mess that it was almost a pathetic sight to witness. ei’s cock filling you to the brim, repeatedly hitting against all the right places, and acheron’s cock pounding into your ass so deliciously deep, you never felt so full.

“ j-just like that, pleasee, “ you drawled, your tongue lolled out, holding onto ei for dear life. “ mmm, you’re doing absolutely wonderful, dearest. .! “ she moans out, griping your hips as she continues to fuck you without any signs of exhaustion.

“ i-i agree, i didn’t think she could handle us both but i’ve been proven wrong—ah, sweetheart, you’re squeezing me—“ she says with gritted teeth, slowing down to fuck your ass in slow, shallow thrusts. she doesn’t wanna cum too soon but you’re intending on milking her dry, huh? acheron’s hand presses down on the outline of ei’s cock bulging out from your stomach, causing you to scream out in pleasure.

“ wanna cum—gonna cum! “ you mewled, throwing your head back in pure euphoria as you squirted once more, this time all over ei’s cock. ei follows behind with a throaty moan, hugging you tight against her as her hot seed fills you up. acheron buries her face in between your neck and shoulder blade, thrusting a few more times before she stuffs your ass with her cum. “ you did so good, my pretty girl. “ she mumbles breathlessly into your sweaty skin, not pulling out until she gives you every last drop.

ei does the same and grasps your face to sloppily kiss your swollen lips while acheron kisses your back, “ let’s do this another time, this was a wonderful experience. i’ll make sure we’ll meet again. “

[euthymiya]

for you, i’d do it all again — ft. alhaitham

the story of how you replace the acting grand sage as the permanent one. alternatively: three times alhaitham wanted to say i love you and one time he finally does

before you read: 6.2k word count ; fem reader ; friends to lovers ; former bimarstan nurse to grand sage reader (girlboss hours) ; reader is ambiguous but from the desert ; themes of prejudice against desert folks ; lovesick alhaitham ; nahida appearance (she’s very sweet) ; mentions of blood and injuries ; reader sits on his lap ; fingering ; semi public sex/office sex (the door is locked) ; slight hand jobs ; unprotected vaginal sex ; pulling out ; soft linguist alhaitham :(

His head is pounding. Hard.

Alhaitham fights mercenaries often—far too many of them are easy to run into deep into the desert. They tend to get territorial over ruins, too, not too keen on rainforest folk. Their teeth always grit, and their eyes always glare at him like he’s more than just an intruder.

He supposes he is.

For far too long, the desert population of Sumeru has been an afterthought. For far too long, they’ve fought tooth and nail for an opportunity—any opportunity. The desert ruins and their secrets are the few things that they have, the few things that they can cling to. The ruins are one of the rare things that are theirs to control.

Alhaitham doesn’t blame them for being hostile when he approaches. They scoff bitterly when he offers up his Akademiya-approved stamp on a paper to be there.

Get out, they grit, in their mother tongue.

It’s a language Alhaitham recognizes. Something entirely different from anything people speak in the rainforest. People in the city. But he knows what they say—he learned this particular tongue some years ago from a book in his father’s collection. This version is vaguely different, though, something of a dialect, he assumes.

I don’t mean harm, he says quietly, hand held up in surrender.

They pause. One of them, the leader, he deduces, steps up and chuckles.

“Fancy fer a little ‘ol scholar, ain’t ya?” He asks gruffly, “so ya know ta speak a few other languages. So what?”

His grammar is slightly off, Alhaitham notes. He must have picked up what he knows from traveling to and from Caravan Rivat. It’s impressive, Alhaitham thinks.

Only a sharp mind could pick up a language so easily just from hearing bits and pieces in a bustling place like the trading hub between the two borders. He imagines with proper education, this man could put even him to shame with how easily he picks up new tongues.

“I mean no harm,” he repeats. “I’m just here to explore these ruins for research.”

The words seem to do little to ease their minds. Instead, they draw their swords, and just like that, he prepares himself for another grueling fight.

As usual, Alhaitham wins in the end. Not without a good few hits landed on him, though—this particular bunch was a rough fight even for him. The blunt head of a sword handle hitting his head is particularly rough, hence why he lays in the bimarstan, eyes closed as he holds an ice pack to his temple.

“You don’t have to fight every person who picks one with your first,” you chastise, rolling bandages around his bicep where a small gash is littered on his skin.

He grunts, fighting through every pounding thump in his skull as he says hoarsely, “I don’t particularly have a choice. It’s either fight back or be killed.”

“You could always seduce them,” you tease, giggling when he opens a weary eye and gives you an unimpressed stare.

“I have my doubts about that plan,” he says dryly.

“They don’t mean any harm,” you hum quietly, tossing away the dirtied rags you’d used to clean his blood. “The desert folks aren’t exactly the happiest with Akademiya ones, you know.”

“I’d appreciate it if such grievances didn’t have to end with knife fights,” he says tiredly.

Alhaitham, no matter how bloodied or bruised he could show up to you in the hospital, finds that you always have a soft spot for those of the desert. It makes sense, he supposes, seeing as you come from there yourself—still, he’d really appreciate it if you could acknowledge that he’s been a victim of unwarranted violence.

It’s not that he particularly blames them for their actions. Researchers are quite pushy—too pushy, in fact. They take up room in villages they’re unwelcome in often times. They build institutions they’re not permitted to build. They claim ownership of ruins that aren’t theirs to claim.

Researchers like Alhaitham, who intend to observe and do nothing else, aren’t trusted, regardless of their intentions. The mercenaries have taken to force if that’s what it requires to keep the desert rightfully theirs.

“Akademiya-approved exploration permits mean little to them,” you shrug, “the only person I’m sure they’d make an exception for is Cyno—only because he’s one of them. But a lot of people have much to say about him too for leaving nowadays, anyway.”

“How would you know?”

“My mother writes to me,” you say, wrapping up the bandage around his bicep before pulling away. He misses the heat of your fingertips almost instantly, fighting back the urge to grab at your retreating hands.

“Lord Kusanali sent me,” he says quietly. “She…she was looking for something.”

You don’t press for more, thankfully. His vagueness is enough to tell you he probably can’t share much of what he was sent for, and you don’t seem offended even the slightest.

Alhaitham appreciates that. Not many of his friends (if he can call most of them that, anyway) are ever too pleased by his curt, dry answers. Perhaps Cyno is the exception, but the General Mahamatra is equally as curt as the scribe on most days. Kaveh is too nosey for his own good, Dehya is just as pushy for details, and the traveler wouldn’t be so bad if not for that irritating little pixie friend that floats by her head, always demanding for more information.

You never ask for more, though. He likes that about you.

He likes a lot about you. Alhaitham, as emotionally stunted as most people assume him to be, is aware of most of his feelings. Perhaps expressing them is a different story, but recognizing them for what they are is an easy enough step.

He knows early on that he’s deeply enamored by you. Later, he’s not too shocked to come to the realization he’s in love with you, either.

He comes close to saying it sometimes. It’s a dangerous, slippery slope to tread—sometimes whispering I love you feels as natural as saying thank you when you patch him up.

Probably because he says it so many times in his head.

I love you, he says in his mind when you laugh.

I love you, he thinks, when you worry over him.

I love you, he realizes, when you attach yourself to his side and accompany him to Puspa Cafe.

“Speaking of the Archon,” you perk up, excitedly putting away the medical equipment in a rush as you turn to him and add, “did you hear? Sumeru is finally expanding the Akademiya’s education to the desert!”

Alhaitham wants to tell you he’s one of the first to know. He was part of the operation that resolved conflicts and led to this evolvement, after all, but he doesn’t tell you that.

Instead, he nods and smiles softly at you. “I did, yes.”

“It’s wonderful,” you beam excitedly, “I’ve always felt guilty for leaving the desert. Not too many get the opportunities I had—it’ll be wonderful if the children there are granted the same ones, don’t you think?”

I love you, he wants to say when you’re so happy and thrilled by changes he had a hand in.

Pride swells itself into his chest at the look on your face. Alhaitham doesn’t help people for this sense of pride or self-fulfillment—it’s simply the right thing to do, and the course of action that leads to less catastrophe.

The lesser the catastrophe, the easier his life will be.

But for once, he’s proud to have done something for the greater good if it means painting a smile on your face like that.

“It’s great news, yes,” he confirms.

“You’ll have to tell me how you and the others pulled off such a grand scheme sometime,” you say casually, fighting off a knowing smile when he shoots his head up to look at you.

He groans at the sharp pain in his head at the action, rubbing his temple as you laugh.

“How—how did you—”

“I may be out of the loop, but I’m not clueless,” you snort.

You hand him a pill and a glass of water, making him stare up at you before he mumbles, “they’ve asked me to be acting grand sage. Just for the time being.”

“Will you accept?”

He swallows the pill down with a long sip of water before handing you the half-empty glass. With a slow nod, he sighs, “I don’t have too many options on this matter.”

“Well, I’m sure you’re more than capable, Haitham.”

I love you, he thinks, when you make it so apparent that you believe him like you breathe. So easy, so natural. So involuntary.

—————

Alhaitham is tired of being the acting grand sage. He doesn’t mind stepping up and doing something for the sake of his nation—especially when he’s one of the only seemingly capable individuals, too.

Lesser Lord Kusanali requests him to temporarily take the role until she finds someone suitable to take his place. Alhaitham is not one to put his faith blindly into divinity—he doesn’t care much for the divine as it is.

But Sumeru’s archon is one who loves her people. He can admire that much.

So, with a slightly mournful goodbye to his free time, he accepts.

“I’m tired of paperwork,” he grumbles. You giggle, earning a more sour look from him. “Glad you’re amused.”

“Sorry,” you clasp a hand over your mouth as you apologize through your fit of laughter, “it’s just funny to hear from the scribe of all people that paperwork is the main trouble of grand sage duty.”

“It’s an entirely separate realm of paperwork,” he scoffs. “It’s quite tiring.”

Alhaitham, on a normal day, would not accept an offer to stargaze in place of going home, taking a hot shower, and going to bed. Not before reading a few chapters of his book, of course, but that’s beside the point.

It’s a little different when the offer comes from you, though. If it’s you, he has a hard time declining. You don’t seem to notice that yet, which is a good sign, but it leaves him a bit painfully aware of just how much control you hold over his mind.

“I’d love to be grand sage one day,” you sigh, looking up at the stars as you admire them.

They’re not as nice here as they are in the desert, you’d told him one night. In the city, the lights make the stars hard to see. In the rainforest, the thick layer of leaves from the trees makes them nearly disappear. In the desert, however, where there’s nothing to block out the darkness and the fluorescence of the stars, you can see them clearly.

He grunts, hand itching to run a finger over your cheek as he stares at the shadow of your lashes against the swell of them.

“You would?” He raises a brow.

“Yeah,” you nod, humming as you let out a soft exhale. “It’s about time we get a grand sage that doesn’t just care about the rainforest, don’t you think?”

“It’s not easy work,” he responds flatly, “being a sage.”

“So?” You turn to him with furrowed brows, “I don’t mind.”

“Having the power isn’t as great as you might think.”

“I don’t want to be grand sage for the power,” you say through a clipped tone, glancing at him from the corner of your eyes, “I want to be sage for the opportunity to make a decision. Not a lot of desert folks have that chance, you know.”

Alhaitham is silent.

Not many people can say they’ve left him with no retort or smart comment to throw back. It’s easy, he thinks, for someone like him to think of Akademiya work as a chore. So many rules and regulations to remember, so many demands people make that he has to keep up with. Request after request. Proposal after proposal. Decision after decision. This type of work seems like too much trouble than he can be bothered with.

Not for you, though. Someone like you has never had a chance to find a chore out of a job you’ve never been granted. Someone like you would never complain over an opportunity you’ve always dreamed of.

He’s quiet for a while longer before he finally murmurs, “you’d make an excellent grand sage. Better than me.”

“You think so?” You beam instantly—he’d chuckle at how easily a little praise brightens your earlier mood, but he’s too busy eyeing the dimple at the corner of your mouth. He aches to trace it with his thumb.

“Yes,” he says simply, “the Akademiya is extending opportunities and developments into the desert. You’d make an appropriate individual to oversee that.”

“Maybe one day,” you whisper, “for now, as long as we get some books for the kids out there, I’ll be happy.”

He loves you, he thinks. He loves you and your kindness, and your ambitions, and your dreams. They’re crystal clear, always so tangible, even if they used to be so far out of reach. He doesn’t think he’s ever had that.

When was the last time he dared to let himself dream? He’s never had any long-term goals that really mattered.

Graduate.

Get a stable job.

Live a peaceful life.

His goals have always been so dull compared to yours. Important things to achieve, nonetheless, but nothing worth remembering.

I love you, he wants to say.

Instead, he mumbles, “there are six libraries approved for construction as of now across a few villages.”

“Did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Approve of them. As grand sage.”

He doesn’t look over to meet your eyes; just nods before swallowing thickly as you grin. You reach over and give his hand a tight squeeze.

The words bubble up his throat once more before dying down from another heavy swallow.

—————

Lesser Lord Kusanali thinks it to be a great idea to allow people to apply to be grand sage instead of appointing someone. Something about getting to see the enthusiasm of the Akademiya and its scholars! as she says.

Alhaitham thinks it’s silly. Naturally, many people apply just for the ambitions of a high paying and largely powerful position. He couldn’t be bothered to glance through most of the applications. He declines half of them as they come—he recognizes enough names to know that none of these individuals have a place in the mechanics of running a nation.

Still, Lesser Lord Kusanali is hopeful. She’s certain there will be a promising applicant who can be relied on to carry the responsibility of leading a nation and its government on deft shoulders.

The only good thing about this system, however, is that Alhaitham gets to make his own suggestion for someone to take his place from the pool of applicants, seeing as he is, of course, the current grand sage. This means he can suggest you through your application—unsurprisingly, you do apply.

The Dendro Archon offers him this as a means of a truce.

He sifts through applications, and she considers his suggestion. It’s a fair trade, he thinks—especially because he can reject everyone who’s not you.

The only trouble is that he has to formally submit his proposal to the sages, too. Should all six approve of his recommendation, Lord Kusanali will accept his decision without any further action.

Should even one decline, you are to meet with the Archon herself alongside Alhaitham so he can defend his position.

That’s a problem—Alhaitham knows you won’t be too pleased to know your position was achieved through his influence, and even more, he doesn’t exactly want to explain all the reasons he admires you in front of not just you but the Archon herself.

He’d rather let a couple of mercenaries in the desert draw their blades on him again than go through that humiliating exchange.

For their own sakes, Alhaitham hopes the sages have accepted his proposition.

And then he sees it—your name on the paper. He stills, carefully plucking out the page and glazing his eyes over the words over and over again before he quickly stands and leaves his office.

“Grand sage Alhaitham, there’s a formal request submitted here for—”

“Not now,” he walks through the doors of the Akademiya in long strides, leaving the poor man to follow after him as best as he can.

“B-but it’s rather important—”

“Leave it on my desk for my return. I’ll look then.”

“It’s rather urgent, you see. We must—”

“I said not now.” He halts to a stop, eyeing the man with deadly, narrowed eyes as his voice comes out in something just short of a growl.

Alhaitham is known across the Akademiya for being dry. Blunt. Painfully stripped of any and all emotion. This sudden show of not just emotion, but pure rage has the man stunned to stiffness as he nods tensely and quickly walks away. He lets out a fuming sigh as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

Three out of six sages have declined.

Three. Out of six.

Alhaitham knows that at least two of them have made their decisions simply based on the fact that you come from the desert. He’s never been more certain of something in his life—the sages have yet to all be replaced themselves, and there are two that still remain from the original appointees from Azar himself.

There is no denying Azar’s distaste for those of the desert, and Alhaitham is certain the sages he once appointed years ago would be no different. How else would he hold onto such power all these years if they did not share similar views?

There’s a burning, unsettling rage simmering in his ribcage, pounding into his heart and pumping adrenaline into his veins.

With the power granted to him by the Dendro Archon herself, he’ll take matters into his own hands. (And no, this doesn’t mean his power as the grand sage. This means the much more powerful authority he holds as a vision wielder. A power that none of the sages seem to have acquired yet).

—————

“Lord Kusanali,” Alhaitham greets, bowing slightly as he walks up, noting as you fidget when he joins you to stand in front of the Archon herself. “You’ve summoned me?”

“Grand sage Alhaitham—”

“Acting grand sage—ow,” he hisses, glancing at you as you elbow him.

“Don’t correct the Archon,” you scold quietly. “Apologies, Lady Kusanali. Alhaitham tends to be…stubborn.”

The Archon smiles—it’s hard to think that someone as small and innocent-looking is meant to be the embodiment of wisdom. Divinity that is all-knowing.

Does she know that Alhaitham has made his decision solely based on his heart alone and nothing else? Sure, he thinks you’re very capable for the job—more capable than himself, in fact. And as much as he dislikes this position, Alhaitham will not deny that he does it quite well.

But this decision is based on his feelings. Not his logic. Something he doesn’t do often—if ever at all.

“The scribe and all of the sages have confirmed you to be a suitable candidate for the grand sage of Sumeru,” Lesser Lord Kusanali begins, “as such, I’ve summoned you both here to discuss this possibility.”

“I…oh,” you breathe, voice practically an inaudible gasp. “Me?”

You turn to Alhaitham, as if the idea of him accepting your application seems as something unlikely. He itches to poke your forehead and reprimand you for doubting yourself.

As thought she knows, like she can read his mind, Lord Kusanali eyes him with what almost seems like an amused stare.

“You’re very capable,” he nods, ignoring the Archon’s gaze, “your answers in the application, as well as your ideas, have merit to them. It would be wise for the benefit of all of Sumeru to put them into action.”

“All six of the sages? Approved of me?”

Something bitter bubbles in his chest at the sound of pure shock in your voice.

“Well,” the Dendro Archon hums, “interestingly enough, three of the six sages have decided to resign—it seems we have our work cut out for us to replace them, too. As it stands, we only have three sages—all three have approved of your application.”

“Looks like I’ll be demoting you of your job,” you glance over at Alhaitham. He smiles slightly, humming as he pulls out a book and opens it to his marked spot.

“My pay will remain the same, so I have no complaints. I much prefer the simplicity of the scribe’s role.”

“Oh, I don’t plan on making the scribe’s job too easy once I’m in office,” you tease.

I love you, he thinks, as you sit in awed shock, still processing your achievement.

Alhaitham is almost certain the Archon’s mouth twitches into a slightly wider grin as soon as the words materialize in his head, aching to exist between his lips as well.

———————

Sumeru, the nation of wisdom, is a land where the people are proud of who they are. It’s a nation rich in culture and heritage. There are so many traditions, that Alhaitham himself could never hope to learn of them all from his many, many books on history.

Still, in its surplus of years of being a proud, standing nation, it has never thrived like this before.

You are the answer to this recent development. Many older scholars in the Akademiya are unhappy with your presence at first. Slowly, one by one, they are relieved of their duties by the Dendro Archon herself.

Not many people give you trouble after that.

The first order of business you handle is allowing the Akademiya to grant new students. A good number of desert children and adults have been offered places to study here—more in the last few weeks than there have been in the last few decades. The children are bright, too. You’ve taken to scouting the most brilliant of minds. 

A number of them have even disproven the theses and dissertations of seasoned scholars regarding studies of desert ruins. (Alhaitham finds this slightly amusing, as do you. The irony is not lost on most that the same people who have been treated as lesser for decades have contributed more in just a few short weeks than some at the Akademiya have in years. The two of you have shared a good few laughs over the shame that one too many scholars must be facing right now).

Alhaitham has happily returned to being the scribe (with an added pay raise, of course). He’s back to his much smaller, much quieter office that is less akin to the door being knocked on (or being burst open) and intruding on his peace.

Except today. 

Today, the door is burst open in the middle of him examining files, making him look up unimpressed with an unsavory insult ready on his tongue. He quickly bites it back when he realizes it’s you. 

“Scribe,” you say simply.

“Grand sage,” he responds, raising a brow.

“A word, please,” you shuffle in, closing the door behind you before clicking it locked. If his eyebrow could raise any higher, it would—you’ve never needed to lock him in his own office to have a word with him before, no matter how private the matter. 

“Yes?” He asks smoothly, leaning back in his chair. 

“I’ve been looking to appoint new sages for the three we are missing,” you begin carefully. He stiffens slightly at the topics—he’s sure it doesn’t go unnoticed by you. It seems to be the confirmation you need. “I’ve heard a funny rumor.”

“And what would that be?” He shuffles his papers to seem uncaring, not meeting your eyes. “I don’t typically partake in Akademiya gossip. It’s a waste of my time.”

“Well this particular rumor is interesting—it might interest even you. There’s word that someone of a dendro vision user from the Akademiya has threatened the former sages to leave their positions. There is worry such events could repeat amongst potential candidates.”

“Interesting,” he says plainly as he nods. 

“There aren’t many dendro vision users I know of here,” you sigh. “Haitham, I’m not dense. I earned this position by having the approval of the only three remaining sages. After the other three quit. It wouldn’t take a particularly genius individual to assume what took place here.”

He swallows, taking a slow breath before he quietly murmurs, “I’m sorry.”

You furrow your brows. “What are you apologizing for?”

“You’re upset, are you not?” Alhaitham blinks at you in confusion. It’s one of the rare times you get to see him unsure, so unlike the usual know-it-all self he always is. “That I interfered with your application?”

“I’m upset,” you confirm, stepping closer as you inspect him. He feels oddly seen under your gaze. “But not because you interfered. Because that was risky—you shouldn’t go that far for me, Haitham. Why in the gods’ names would you attempt such a ridiculous thing?”

It’s easy, he thinks. Because he loves you. Enough that it’s easy to risk his career and credibility at this institution if it means he can help your dreams become something more than just dreams. He’s come so close to saying it so many times—this time, it falls from his lips before he can stop himself.

He’s not so sure he wants to stop himself anymore. You should know—even if you don’t feel the same, even if you do, you should know.

“Because I love you,” he murmurs. “I’d go even further for you. I can’t help it.”

Your eyes soften. They don't widen in shock or recoil in distaste. Instead, they well with glossy, wet tears that alarm him slightly as he sits up straighter. You let out a light, watery laugh before he can apologize for unintentionally upsetting you with his confession.

“Oh, you fool,” you shake your head, “only you would sooner risk your entire livelihood before you simply admit your feelings.”

“I—”

He’s silenced by the touch of your palm on his cheek. Any words he’d like to say get cut off from his tongue. (He has none, really—as embarrassing as that is to admit for someone of linguist such as himself.) 

“Haitham,” you say gently.

“Yeah?” He croaks.

“Don’t risk your reputation for me again.”

“I don’t know if I can promise that,” he mumbles, grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer. You follow his tug, carefully seating yourself on his lap before you frown, opening your mouth to protest—but he cuts you off before you can. “But, lucky for me, the grand sage has a soft spot for the scribe. I think that’ll be helpful for any predicaments I might find myself in.”

“Are you saying you want to have the grand sage use her power for corrupted reasons?” You gasp, making him grin as he chuckles. “And after all the trouble you went through to overthrow a corrupt government, too.”

“Is it really corrupt if it’s the only two logical individuals of the nation? I’d say it’s simply an executive decision.”

“That’s not how that works,” you giggle fondly. And then you’re kissing him—Alhaitham has wondered how your lips would feel many times before, but he’s never been fully prepared to truly know. They’re softer, warmer, gentler than he imagined. “I love you too, by the way,” you murmur as you pull away for a moment.

That confession makes him desperately close the gap again, tugging you closer on his lap as he kisses you harder. Deeper. Alhaitham has always admired your goals, your dreams and ambitions. He realizes that maybe he has never given himself enough credit until now. 

His goals, his dreams and ambitions, have always been you. There has never been a more beautiful dream, he thinks—nothing is worthy of comparing to you. He thinks, by default, that makes his ambitions admirable, too. 

“Those sages could not know wisdom, talent, nor brilliance even if the Archon herself presented it before them. Otherwise,” he kisses down your neck, “otherwise they’d have understood it was you. They would have approved of your application. I did this nation yet another favor by ridding the Akademiya of them.”

“I suppose all of Sumeru owes you twice, then,” you hum, breathlessly gasping as he sucks lightly on your skin, right over your pulse point. 

Your hands travel to untuck his shirt from his pants, letting them wander under the fabric to feel over the hard planes of his abs. They’re as defined as they look through the skin-tight shirt he always wears. He groans into your neck as your touch sears into him, just as you gasp when his fingers slip past your waistband and tug down slightly. 

He stops before he can expose anything, however, pausing through a labored breath as he murmurs, “can I?”

“Yes,” you plead, lifting your hips slightly so he can pull the fabric down your thighs, your panties following before he pulls you back down to be seated on his lap. Your fingers tug at his hair when his fingers prod at your entrance. An exchange of sorts—a touch for a touch. 

You whine when his thumb circles your clit as his middle and ring fingers pump into your tight cunt, burying past your folds and finding a sensitive, spongy spot in your walls that makes you bite your lips and stifle a sob. 

“Well,” he says amusedly, “I suppose neither of us are very good models for grand sages if this is the sort of activity we partake in while in office.”

“It’s your fault,” you pant, rocking your hips to meet his fingers as they thrust into you, searching for more, for a deeper, harder pace. 

“Oh?” He laughs, a low chuckle that he sears into your skin with a kiss, working his way up your jaw, “I wasn’t the one who locked the door when I came in. I wonder if you had motives of your own when you came in.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Haitham,” you huff, “I just didn’t want someone to walk in when I yelled at you. I was doing your ego a favor.”

“Do my ego one more favor and cum for me,” he murmurs, pulling you into a kiss as you whine into his mouth and shiver. Your belly erupts with a warmth of pleasure, snapping the coil that sends shockwaves through your whole body. An ache that was building in your core seems to have reached the tipping point, making you quiver on his lap as you shatter from his touch.

He groans, just from the squeeze of your walls around his fingers alone—only Archons know how much he’s itching to feel you on his cock. (He hopes Lesser Lord Kusanali’s seemingly all-knowing wisdom doesn’t extend to this. Sometimes, it feels like she can read his mind—he sincerely hopes she doesn’t have the ability to read just what goes on in his head when he thinks of you.)

He’s hard—it almost hurts from just how much so. You’re kind enough to reach over and slowly work him free from the confinements, letting his erection breathe from the strain of his pants. He tries not to let out a shaky breath when you slowly trace a vein along the underside and study his cock. 

“It’s pretty,” you murmur, “you’re so pretty, Haitham.”

“Stop,” he pleads hoarsely, blush dusting over his cheeks, “don’t stare.”

“Shy?” You giggle, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “C’mon, baby. It’s just me.”

And oh—he could cum from just that affectionate drawl of that pet name and that lingering sweet touch. He twitches in your delicate hold, making you hum in approval before you slowly stroke him, fist gliding up and down the thick girth of him. 

“F-fuck,” he hisses, bumping his forehead against yours gently. 

Finally, when your eyes meet, and you both seem to understand just what the other wants without an exchange of words, you lift your hips slightly, guiding him to your entrance. His hands settle on your waist, slowly helping you sink down on his length as you both gasp at the way he intrudes into your sweet, dripping cunt. 

You’re as tight as he is deep—it makes for a good connection. You squeeze around him the same way he rubs against you. Everything about both of your bodies joining feels like it’s meant to be this way. Him in you and you around him. 

“Fuck me, Haitham,” you whisper, cradling his face in your hands by his jaw. You feel it clench under your palms as he stifles a groan at your words.

“As you wish,” he murmurs. 

The first thrust of his hips upwards makes you collapse against his chest. The second makes you whimper as you cling to his muscled body. By the third and fourth, you’ve adjusted enough that you can slowly roll your own hips to match his rhythm and meet his pace. It makes him sink in even deeper, hit the right spots, and drag along every ridge. 

“S-so big,” you marvel, moaning as the fat tip of his cock brushes against that sweet, sensitive spot in your walls. “You fit me so well, Haitham.”

“And you take me so well,” he groans back, “so tight and wet. What if they’re looking for you right now? I wouldn’t be surprised if they were—imagine how surprised they’d be if they knew the grand sage was falling apart on the scribe’s cock. What would they say?”

“They’d think the scribe has some nerve distracting such an important figure for the nation,” you huff, biting your lip and whining his name when he sends a particularly sharp thrust into your walls. 

He chuckles, panting as he kisses your forehead. “Then I suppose it will be our secret. For the sake of peace.”

“Good idea,” you giggle breathlessly, pulling him into a passionate kiss. 

His hips drill into you, bullying his thick length into your tight cunt—splitting you open on him like you’re his to spread. You are. And he’s yours to have, too, as you pull on his hair and bring him closer, hands wandering over his body as you feel every tight, defined muscle. 

You breathe his name. He breathes yours. Somewhere in the mix, your thumb brushes over his nipples from under his shirt, and his finds your clit to rub teasing circles over. 

“I-I’ll cum,” you admit first, “again, Haitham.”

“Go ahead,” he groans, letting out a soft whine when you squeeze around him at the sound of his low, pleasure-hazed voice. “Cum for me, again. Cum around me so I can feel you this time.”

So you do, giving him what he wants. How could you not when he’s gone to such lengths to make sure you’ve gotten everything you want? You spasm around his throbbing length, squeezing around him and making it harder and harder to roll his hips and fuck into you. 

“Haitham,” you whine, a quiet, high-pitched sound that makes his eyes flutter shut, and his mouth hang open as he lets out a low moan. The sounds you make could be enough to send him over the edge. The soft “I love you,” that you whisper is what ends up really doing it, though.

He quickly grabs your hips, roughly lifting you up before he wraps his fist around his cock and strokes himself, pumping his aching length as thick, hot ropes of cum leak from his tip and drip onto your thighs. He groans, strangled and low, as he makes an effort not to be too loud. 

Your lips map along his jaw and cheeks, kissing soothingly as your fingers stroke through his sweaty hair, helping him work himself through his orgasm as he fucks his own fist. “F-fuck—I…I love you, too. I love you. I’ve always loved you.” 

He can’t stop saying it now that he finally can. So many times, the words have almost escaped from the safety of his mouth. So many times, he’s risked them out in the open air. Now that he knows it’s safe, he wants the words to permanently reside between your bodies, in the atmosphere between you and him, in the middle ground where your skin is separated from his. 

If there is space between the two of you, he only wants it to exist to house all the words he never had the nerve to say to you. All the words he’ll admit to you now. 

“I love you, too,” you whisper, “so much. So, so much, Haitham.”

He pants as he calms down, uncaring of the mess for now. With his good hand, he grabs your hand, lacing his fingers with yours before he pulls them both up. His lips press a delicate kiss to the back of your hand. You melt over him. 

“There is no brilliance like you, neither in the rainforest nor desert. I have searched everywhere.” 

Your eyes tear up, a breathy, watery laugh dancing from your wobbly lips as you whisper, “you’re incredibly cheesy for a Haravatat scholar, you know.”

He laughs brightly into your shoulder as he buries into the crook of your neck. 

I love you. He’s always wanted to say it. It feels good to finally be able to. Alhaitham will never take for granted the chance he now gets to say it as often as he wants. 

I would like my man who’s not really my man to defend my honor by threatening violence using power granted to him by divinity on a random Tuesday. That would be nice.

[ataraxiaspainting]

Blue Crow.

Yan Nobunaga x F Reader x Yan Uvogin. (College AU.)

Synopsis: Uvogin hates taking buses, but he enjoys seeing you one seat ahead of him.

Warnings: Yandere themes, non-con, the reader is described as AFAB and she/her pronouns are used, unhealthy relationships, brief mentions of drug/alcohol usage, victim blaming, oral (female receiving), oral (male receiving), sexual blackmail, and implied stalking.

Word Count: 5k.

somewhat inspired by the game classmates! check it out here if you'd like. <3

also inspired by @uvobreakmylegs's digging deeper! it's amazing! <3

*~*~*~*

The 5A station was the closest one to your dorm. It had no seats or shelter of any kind in case of bad weather, only a large blue sign that said Yorknew University, Nursing Program in white bold letters – because it didn’t say anything else about the buses that stopped by and because this stop is surrounded by old rotting trees, the drivers sometimes fail to notice you.

It’s raining now, and everything here is so dark – your clothes, your umbrella, the night sky, and your bag.

Your phone says the bus will be here any minute now, but will it even see you?

If not, you’ll have to find a different way to make it to Nobunaga’s place.

He seemed friendly enough. If you were a few minutes late, surely he’d understand. You were not close enough to invite him over, go inside his home, or let him drive you anywhere, though that is just how you are with all males you casually know. It’s nothing personal.

There are two bright lights a small distance away, and at the sight you raise your hand and wave.

By some miracle, the bus stops and opens its automatic doors.

You take a few steps as you close your umbrella and make your way up the stairs, being careful not to slip. You slip a few quarters into the little slot beside the driver and sit down on a seat near the window.

Taking off your hood, you ruffle your wet bangs out of your face, using your reflection to attempt to get them back to looking presentable. It doesn’t really work, but what does it matter? You’re just there to give Nobunaga some notes his friends wanted to give to him and leave. 

*~*~*~*

“You’re [First], correct?” Chrollo asks, putting his right hand out towards you.

You take out your earbuds, fixing your posture as you nod. A blonde man sits next to you on the bench before Chrollo could, smiling and giggling like he is some gossiping schoolgirl.

“Dang, you’re cute!” Shalnark exclaims. 

“Shal, what the hell are you doing?” Uvogin had started to stomp over. His mere size was enough to keep your eyes on him and not the others. Even the one girl who was with them didn’t draw your attention, despite her hair being unnaturally bright pink.

“Saying hi!” Shalnark put an arm around you. On instinct, you squirm a little bit, not noticing how Uvogin rolled his eyes in response to how Shalnark smirked at him. Once you were out of his loose grip, Chrollo politely cleared his throat.

“I was wondering if you could do something for us, Miss [First]. For the gang, I mean.” 

The gang? From what you knew, Chrollo’s group was always causing some sort of rule-breaking but Chrollo himself stayed at the top of the class with superb grades and plenty of attention from girls. It is like no one knew they were connected. They seemed like bad news, but all of your interactions with them had been positive thus far. Did Nobunaga put in the good word for you?

“Um… sure?” As long as it was something that didn’t land you in prison or the hospital, you decide to go along with what Nobunaga’s leader asks of you. It is probably a bad idea to reject, and maybe you’ll get something good out of it in exchange.

“I’d like you to give Nobunaga some notes he missed. He’s been out. Sick, most likely.” You didn’t notice the small piles of books he was carrying until he made them closer to you, wanting you to take them. “Surely you have noticed? He talks to you a lot, I hear.”

“Yeah.” You decide to put them on your lap for the time being. The notes weren’t as heavy as they would have been if you were carrying them. “Is… he doing better?”

“Not sure,” Uvogin says, attempting to pry Shalnark off the bench. “He hasn’t been answering his phone, you see.”

“I don’t wanna!” Shalnark whines.

“Shut up, Shal. You’re gonna make us look bad in front of Nobu’s girlfriend.”

Girlfriend?

“I’m… not his girlfriend…”

They don’t seem to hear you. You’re not exactly the loudest person, after all. You have been teased for having a soft voice and having to speak up. These people wouldn’t ignore you, you think. Shalnark and Uvogin are play fighting, and Chrollo is talking to that magenta-haired woman. They wouldn’t ignore you, you’re just being too shy. They wouldn’t ignore you, they are Nobunaga’s friends. Nobunaga wouldn’t ignore you, why would they?

“I’m… not his girlfriend.”

Uvogin is the only one to give you a response after hearing it. He shoots you a confused look before continuing to tickle Shalnark. No one else seems to notice your words.

After a few more tries, you decide to give up for now. Looking at the notebooks in front of you, you decide to open the top one up. There are just standard mathematical problems as well as some doodles and words of encouragement in the vacant spaces of the looseleaf. 

‘Go get them, tiger!’

‘Don’t die on me now!’

‘Remember one plus one?’

‘♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡’

At first, you think that it is Nobunaga’s girlfriend, but you shake your head to erase it. No. The gang thinks you are his girlfriend. 

Perhaps Shalnark then? From the times you sat near him in your chemistry classes, his handwriting was a mess. It took some effort to realize that he was simply drawing and not paying attention to the professor in the slightest. However, his favorite things to draw were bats and computers. Would he really draw hearts and not those things so Nobunaga could know it was him? 

Maybe it was an inside joke. You’re not going to ask because you don’t want your question to come off as disrespectful, though you were slightly curious.

You’ll just do what you were told and go right back home.

*~*~*~*

Shalnark texted you the address of Nobunaga’s place a few hours ago, but if you were being honest it took a while to decipher what he was saying. In between every five or so memes or videos he sent you there was a number or letter, maybe three at most if you were lucky.

You sat there with your phone in your hands for what felt like forever, not having the guts to ask Shalnark to just tell you straight up – because he wouldn’t, you know that.

From what you managed to gather from your online map, it seemed that Nobunaga’s place and Uvogin’s place were near each other, no more than a fifteen-minute walk at most. If they lived so close to each other, why didn’t one of them just visit the other? That was the third red flag you didn’t say anything about… and came to regret only half an hour later.

The electric sign attached to the entrance of the bus flickered from time to time with varying degrees of brightness. One person complained openly to the driver that the screen was so dark they did not know that they had missed their dormitory’s building. He didn’t care, only shrugging his shoulders and telling the student that ‘that’s life’. They got off murmuring curses you could hear from the middle part of the bus. Once again, he didn’t care. Like Shalnark, the driver wouldn’t take anything you say seriously; so you just used your online map to count the stops ahead.

“Hey.”

“Next stop: Aster Road, Thirds Street.” The automated message from the bus speakers loudly said, glitching a little after the word ‘Road’.

“Hey.” 

You failed to notice who was behind you as you were too busy counting the stops ahead on your phone.

“Hey.”

“Next stop: Ritas Street, Wilds Complex.”

“Hey.”

“Next stop: Neo Road, Neon Green.”

“Hey.”

“Next stop: Romeos Road, Kiki Terrace.”

“Hey.”

“Next stop-”

You failed to hear the name of the stop because the hand that tapped your shoulder startled you and made you turn your neck around to the seat behind you.

You see a familiar face despite the fading light – or should you say, a familiar body.

“O-Oh… hi… Uvogin.”

Satisfied you had finally noticed him, Uvogin puts his hands behind his head as he smirks. 

“Fancy seeing you so late,” he begins, looking down at your black bag. “Going to Nobu’s place, ain’tcha?”

“Yeah… you?”

“Basketball.”

Was Uvogin on the team too? If you remember correctly it was only Phinks, Feitan, and Nobunaga who were on it. Perhaps he just wanted to watch? Oh well. It’s not any of your business.

After remembering your last conversation with him yesterday, you decide to ask him why everyone thinks you are Nobunaga’s girlfriend – you only talked to him when necessary, in the classes you shared with him, but to be fair he also escorted you around the building most days.

“Listen… about that time…”

“What?” Uvogin turns his head, cupping his ear with his hand. “Speak up.”

“About Nobunaga and me…” You look down – at the books, at your cold wet hands, at the heels of your feet bouncing up and down. Your gut tells you that you’re making a mistake if you talk to him about you and Nobunaga’s relationship, or lack thereof. Your brain goes against it, saying that clearing things up will lead to less trouble down the line. 

Your heart is beating too fast to accept or reject the possibility. 

“Nobunaga and me…”

“You’re still talking too low,” Uvogin interrupts, his stare near-lethal to you. When you flinch at his words, his annoyance seems to disappear. “Hey, you can tell me. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Yeah. Yeah, you’re friends or at least acquaintances. Saying the truth won’t hurt him and won’t hurt you. Maybe Shalnark’s teasing will go away. Maybe Chrollo won’t give you a task again. Maybe Nobunaga won’t be confused when he comes back to school.

“Nobunaga and me… aren’t dating-”

Uvogin’s expression changing wasn’t as fast as before, but his glare intensified as he stood up.

“Next stop: Nightstar Avenue, Owl’s Place.”

Your ears felt numb after you heard the ‘beep’ sound of someone pressing the stop button. Your eyes felt numb as you tried to see the details of Uvogin’s scowl in the dark.

It was Uvogin. He made the bus stop. But why?

It then hits you; this is the closest stop to Nobunaga’s place.

“Stop requested.” The speaker stated. The bus started to pull over next to a tall blue sign.

“Woah, the bus got here so quickly,” Uvogin says, going to the exit doors. When he didn’t hear you stand up too, he turned in your direction. “Don’t tell me you don’t know the directions to your boyfriend’s house?”

“Please exit through the rear door.” Another automated message. Uvogin presses on the door and it lets him out. After a few more seconds you follow him – your gut tells you that you must.

He helps you down with his much larger hands despite you not really needing it – there are handrails on the doors for that.

“What were you saying?” Uvogin asks. “Something about Nobunaga?”

There is a lit street lamp above the sign. It doesn’t flash like the ones near your dormitory and is much brighter. Despite the weather still being stormy, you can see houses a small distance away – not just the street. 

You can see that Uvogin is smiling again.

“Nothing… It’s nothing.”

“Oh?” He sneers, his smirk getting even bigger. “You didn’t want relationship advice?”

“No…” You reply, your hands going to your backpack’s zipper to make sure the notes don’t get too wet.

“Nobunaga likes mochi. Maybe you can get some for him next time. Daifuku especially. He’d be so happy, maybe he’ll stop skipping class with me.” 

A sigh comes out of both of you at the same time for much different reasons. 

“But I don’t want that to happen… hmm.”

*~*~*~*

The outside of Nobunaga’s house wasn’t the house that stood out the most in this neighborhood. It had rather small walls that had peeling white paint in places closer to the ground, and cigarettes and used needles were thrown all over his dead lawn. The only thing you somewhat liked was the rusty gold sign beside the front door that read 251 – and only for the styling of the numbers.

“Here’s the place,” Uvogin says, patting your back as a way to gently push you forward. “Go on, doorbell's right there.”

You were forced up the steps with a force you knew was gentle for Uvogin but not for you. A trembling finger approaches the button slowly – as if using it would make you lose it via a guillotine’s blade.

Doing so didn’t because this is reality, but the pain in your heart feels similar to such a fate anyway. After a few more seconds and the door still being closed, Uvogin knocks loudly.

“[First]’s here!” His yell almost made you cry.

Your name may as well have been the password because Nobunaga opens the door right away. He pants a little like he was running to greet you two.

“Oh fuck, you made it! I thought the storm woulda scared you away.”

Nobunaga didn’t look very sick; he wasn’t wearing a shirt, had his hair down, and only his boxers covered his lower half. He didn’t look very sick; he actually looked quite well. Those signs scared you more than Uvogin’s subtle threat – if his glaring was intended to be such, that is. You don’t step past the doorway, leaving Uvogin to stand in the rain as you take off your backpack. But when you try to undo the zipper, you feel both of their hands touching you up and down as their grins widen.

“Stop that,” You murmur, attempting to step back. Your spine was greeted by Uvogin’s front half. You feel something pressing into you. Once you figured out what it was, you started to go under one of Uvogin’s arms. His leg caged you in then.

“She’s cute, Nobu.”

Nobunaga doesn’t answer in words – he only chuckles and continues to have his hands resting on your hips.

“Listen. Your notes are here, Hazama.” You say, making an effort to still be nice, to still be understanding. You don’t want to scream because what if you’re misreading something? You don’t want anyone to… be framed for something they didn’t do, right?

“It’s Nobunaga.”

“Huh?”

“Call me Nobunaga,” You’re pushed and pulled more. Before you can blink, you’re thrown on the couch’s back. Uvogin is the one who lets go of you and the one who locks the front door, Nobunaga is too busy feeling the back of your thighs. “I’m your boyfriend – it’s normal to call each other by our first names, right?”

Boyfriend?

Was… Was he…

Was he the one who told his gang you’re dating?

“I missed you, baby.” He murmurs, leaning down and pecking your neck. 

He doesn’t seem to note how you’re trembling now.

“Stop.” 

Uvogin simply gets closer. He doesn’t touch you, but he crosses his arms smirking as he leans against the sofa’s frame.

“Stop,” You repeat, trying to push Nobunaga harder off of you.

It’s not an order either of them recognize, so Uvogin continues to stare and Nobunaga continues to kiss your body.

“Stop!” Your tone makes Uvogin slightly shift. He frowns and his arms uncross. 

He takes a few steps towards you. 

“Nobunaga.” Uvogin’s voice is cold now, like how it was when you were about to get off the bus. You freeze. Nobunaga doesn’t stop – he doesn’t even look at Uvogin. “Nobunaga.”

“Stop, Haz-”

“Watch it.” Uvogin glares at you. “It’s ‘Nobunaga’ for you.”

He’s not… He’s not going to help you?

“Yeah.” Nobunaga agrees, pulling you further into his embrace.

“Let go of me!” You snap and push harder than you did before – and manage to finally ply him off of you.

Nobunaga stares down at you. He is now still. He doesn’t blink. His smile has slightly faded, but it is still there. There are subtle movements in his hands. His fingers are curled up. They want to grab something again.

They want to grab you.

“Don’t joke around like that, princess,” Nobunaga finally says, taking a few steps too close to you. “Not many guys are willing to forgive their girl for pushing them away like that. You almost screamed my ears off.”

“I’m not joking!”

“You are.” Uvogin interrupts, stomping his feet. “You are and I am starting to get annoyed. What about you, Nobu?”

“I’m just here to give notes Lucilfer told me to give to Hazama! I’m not here for anything else.”

Nobunaga’s gaze lingers on your backpack for a few silent moments after you say that. “Really… nothing else?” 

“No, she’s here to cheer you up, Nobu,” Uvogin says, attempting to give a warm smile to his best friend. “She’s… just shy.”

The glare he gives you when Nobunaga’s eyes aren’t on him makes you feel like you are about to see God.

“...Right, [First]?”

You don’t respond right away, but Nobunaga does. He giddily smiles like a child on Christmas morning.

“Oh, you!”

He hugs you – his skin feels akin to slime and his hair clings onto your neck in little bunches. You feel unbrushed knots and his heart beating fast with adrenaline. When your own heart mimics the motion, Nobunaga thinks you are simply being shy – Uvogin had once again fed his delusions.

“She brought you the notes you missed. Even wrote a few cute lines in the blank spots.” Uvogin smirks as you look at him in horror. “She wanted me to come with her. Was anxious about missing your bus stop, sweet thing.”

He walks over to your backpack and grips onto the zipper. You attempt to stop him, walking a bit forward and trying to raise your hand, but Nobunaga’s grip is too strong. Within only a few seconds, the stack of notebooks Chrollo had given you is in Uvogin’s hands. He opens a page and starts reading aloud the cute notes someone else had written.

“Go get them, tiger.” 

He turns to another page. 

“Don’t die on me now.”

Then another.

“Remember one plus one?”

Then another.

“A whole bunch of hearts here…”

He then turns to a section you hadn’t looked at before – the back page.

“With lots of love, your one and only girlfriend [First].”

Oh shit. Oh shit.

Did his gang set you up?

…They did. They did.

This is bad. So very bad.

“I never-”

“Stop being so shy with your boyfriend, [First].”

“Why are you being so difficult?” Nobunaga asks, slightly frowning as you protest.

You have to get out of here – fast. If you distract them enough, maybe you’ll be able to make it outside. But they’re faster than you, just better overall when it comes to physicality-

Uvogin’s hand rests on your shoulder, silencing any thoughts or ideas he does not approve of.

“I know what she wants.”

“Huh?” You and Nobunaga ask simultaneously with two distinctly different tones.

It then dawns on both of you what he means – because his shirt is tossed on the couch before you can even take a step toward the front door.

“I know what she wants.” Uvogin repeats.

He wants nothing more than to put you on your knees as he unzips his pants and as Nobunaga keeps you down. He wants nothing more than for Nobunaga afterward to have a turn – or he could go first if he wishes. One of his fingers and one of Nobunaga’s own will be forced into you after your own clothes are discarded. Two tongues will slather all over your pussy like thirsty dogs – and after a few pictures are taken you’ll stay the night with Nobunaga while he makes his way to tell Chrollo that his idea was a success.

“I really couldn’t have done it without you, boss.”

-You try to scream and Nobunaga’s hand muffles your mouth’s cries.

“Don’t go being such a brat,” Uvogin continues, “When all you really want are two bodies to love on you.”

Your arms are grabbed and you are dragged up the stairs.

In a last attempt to get out of here, your legs spread out on the stairs and kick around at Nobunaga – but the fight is short-lived because they thump so roughly with each wooden step and it hurts; Nobunaga makes a note to finally get rid of any rotten oak once you leave.

The bedroom isn’t as spacious as Uvogin had hoped. Clothes were scattered all over the place already; most Nobunaga’s but others were clearly from past flings or some of yours that he had managed to steal. Your dorm was nicer despite it being the same size as the bedroom and your bed being even smaller. But at least yours had a frame and covers.

Maybe later Uvogin will stop by to see you crying yourself to sleep and to take some trophies.

Your white panties were a favorite of his, but Uvogin wouldn’t mind a little bit of change in his collection. A few bras perhaps or a few black thongs. He hopes for whole lingerie sets, but he knows it will only happen if he is lucky that particular evening.

Uvogin sits on the bed first. He thinks about pulling on your hair to make you sit on the dirty floor, but he dismisses the idea. That would be hurting you more than he has to and Nobunaga would be upset at him inevitably having long strands on his palm.

“Hey Nobu,” He says, unzipping his pants and boxers as he quickly tugs them both down to his ankles. “Make sure she’s comfy as we do this, okay?”

It took a while for you to stop crying after that. It took a while for you to do a lot of things Uvogin and Nobunaga wanted you to do. It took a while for you to take just the tip of Uvogin’s penis. Nobunaga had told Uvogin to take it slow when you had finally clamped your lips around him.

“It’s her first time, Uvo – be gentle, okay?”

Uvogin almost laughed at the irony he managed to leave unsaid.

He didn’t want Nobunaga to get upset with all the information he had attained while stalking you for months. You were supposed to just be his little secret he pinned down once in a while, but then Nobunaga just so happened to share a few classes with you.

He fell for you too. Uvogin had never felt any negative emotion for Nobunaga ever over their years-long friendship, but the slight tinge of envy he possessed the moment he found out could almost count.

Oh well, he thinks. I still have pictures of you that he does not. Pictures I would rather not have him see and you probably don’t either.

Just for future reference in case you acted up too much, though Uvogin could always take the more physical route.

Though once again he remembers that Nobunaga is in the picture now. Though their bond is as strong as forged steel, he knows that his friend has always been a bit too controlling when it comes to what he has and loves.

Whether that be simple instant ramen or expensive bottles of brandy, Nobunaga has always had a habit of stowing his possessions away where no one can even look at them.

Uvogin understands although Nobunaga had said nothing about you being something to own. Uvogin understands because he sees how he looks at you.

It’s not disgust he feels. It’s something much less potent, but he cannot put his finger on the exact word. Machi had described it perfectly once when they were all in their mid-teenage years.

He doesn’t bother to remember right now.

You are more important.

You look prettier than he had ever seen you – precum is leaking a little from your lips as little noises come out of them too.

Please. Please.

Please.

You’re not in tears right now.

Uvogin is glad. You in makeup is nice to look at, but he knows that since it is absolutely pouring outside you didn’t want to put some on. Either for that reason or because you knew that Nobunaga was just a friend, despite what Nobunaga in return has told the Troupe. It’s cute, really.

Maybe later he can pull this when he inevitably breaks into your dorm or even in a study room in the university’s library. You’ll have makeup on when you feel like it or when he forces you to. He can ask Pakunoda about how to apply mascara and stuff. She’ll teach him. As a bonus, she won’t tease him like Shalnark does daily.

Thinking more about the idea, Uvogin makes the mistake of letting go of your face.

You cough louder than he had expected. Your spit is now all over the wooden floor Nobunaga has to clean up later. The floors are water resistant. But not waterproof. Uvogin has to remember that there is in fact a difference. Hopefully, it won’t stain and rot like the stairs did, but if it does Uvogin wouldn’t mind paying for the damages.

He wouldn’t mind paying you to keep silent about this too – or he’ll make the cops silent if it came down to it.

“Oh,” Nobunaga rubs your arched back as you squirm and saliva runs down from your clearly sore jaw. He sounds disappointed, but trying not to let it show. It’s not successful. Every person Nobunaga has ever crossed can read him like a book, not that Nobunaga knows about it. Or maybe he does and just doesn’t want to admit it. “You spat it all up. Didn’t wanna swallow it?”

You don’t respond. Uvogin is getting used to that by now. Not Nobunaga though.

“Shh… it’s okay.” Nobunaga senses your distress but thinks it is just shyness. Uvogin is getting used to that too. “It’s okay… you did such a great job.”

“Home,” You choke out. “Please… let me go home now…”

“What are you talking about, sweetheart?” Nobunaga asks, turning his head a little. “We’re not done here.”

“Please… Please, I-”

“Shh.” Uvogin interrupts. Now it is his turn to play the good guy here. “Nobu still hasn’t had his turn, remember? Thankfully he won’t use your mouth.”

A blend of hope and fright is in your gaze. Uvogin didn’t have to get used to that one. He has seen it too many times with all sorts of people. Chrollo loves that look. Feitan loves it too. Maybe their partners’ eyes are like that as well. A ginger-haired girl avoids Chrollo like the plague and Uvogin hasn’t seen that look particularly on her. Apparently, she does in fact beg him for things. With how prideful she acts, Uvogin would pay money to see that.

“He’ll use his,” Uvogin says. He stands up, zipping his pants back to how they used to be. There are a few white stains here and there, but nothing the laundromat wouldn’t fix. “Then you can go home. Okay, princess?”

You’ll get used to this, Uvogin thought to himself. Everyone gets used to things. Even death.

[h-haunted]

magic kisses

my hero academia

neito monoma x reader

gender neutral

sfw

haven’t touched mha in like three years but my best friend shared this with me so obviously i had to do it!

~

You were no stranger to the nurse’s office at UA. Being in class 1A was no walk in the park. You were stuck with the best young heroes of your generation- plus that one green-haired kid who won’t stop attracting villains' attention- and it was certainly a challenge.

Cradling your freshly broken arm and dragging your feet, you slowly made your way to Recovery Girl’s office. A heavy sigh slipped past your lips, illustrating your exhaustion. You had been paired up with Katsuki for training. Long story short, he didn’t even pretend to go easy on you. No surprise there, he was far too competitive for that.

You practically stumbled into the room, your legs feeling like jello underneath your weight. You couldn’t even mumble a greeting before you collapsed down into a chair.

“My my, what happened to you?”

You knew that voice.

Despite your fatigue, your eyes snapped open.

Neito Monoma, asshole of class 1B. You two had been at each other’s throats ever since you met.

Sensing your annoyance before you even opened your mouth, Neito laughed and poked your forehead. “Don’t look so happy to see me.”

“Where’s recovery girl?” You manage to ask, raising your eyebrow.

“She had to step out for a while, I’m here to take her place while she’s gone. Just had to copy her quirk,” the blonde shrugs, leaning back against the wall, “Not the most ideal situation, but whatever. I’m the right guy for the job and I figured I’d do something nice for once. C’mon, let me see your arm.”

You immediately turn away from him, pulling your arm back. You wince as you do so, the pain practically shooting up your spine. Neito covers his mouth and tries his hardest not to laugh, earning himself a sharp glare from you. “If you just let me do it, it’ll stop hurting.”

“No thanks, I’d rather die.”

“Hey, if you insist. I won’t complain.”

“Asshole.”

“What? You said it first, not me. That’ll take forever to heal, and Recovery Girl won’t be very happy that you refused help.”

After a moment of hesitation, you hold out your mangled forearm. “Yikes, you got your ass kicked, huh? Thought you 1A idiots were supposed to be strong.” Neito quips. You shoot him a glare, and he laughs. “Alright, alright. Calm down, feisty.” He gently places his hand on your wrist and leans down, pressing a tender kiss to your skin. The butterflies that flutter through your stomach startle you, your cheeks heating up at the contact. You can feel your bone beginning to fuse back together as he backs away, watching your reaction. After a few seconds, you flex your arm and move it around. Good as new. Huh.

“Hm? You seem a little red. Coming down with a fever, are we?” He teases, savoring the way you avert your gaze and mumble ‘shut up’. He runs the tips of his fingers down your freshly healed forearm and it feels like lightning.

You rip your arm away, shooting him yet another glare. He flicks your forehead, rolling his eyes. “Your face will be stuck like that if you don’t stop.”

“And if you don’t stop rolling your eyes, they might get stuck in the back of your head.” You retort through a small yawn, covering your mouth with your hand. Neito looked at you, his eyebrow raised.

“Hm. Someone’s tired.”

“Shut up.”

“What? I just pointed it out. Side effect of the quirk.” Neito laughed, his voice as smooth as honey. “I can’t send you back to class like that. Just relax, you can take a nap here if you need to.”

“That’s oddly nice of you-”

“No promises I won’t draw on your face while you’re out though.”

“There it is.” You roll your eyes, leaning back against the wall. Neito grabs a pillow and offers it to you. “I’m not going to take a nap.”

“You don’t have to. Just get comfortable.” Neito rolled his eyes in return, sitting down next to you. You hesitantly grabbed the pillow, placing it behind your head. It wasn’t any more comfortable than just leaning against the wall, but you were too exhausted to complain.

“Seriously though. I’ll stay here with you if you want to take a nap.” He hums. You open your mouth to protest, but it’s cut off by yet another yawn. Okay, maybe that nap wasn’t a bad idea.

When you wake up, the first thing you notice is that your head is resting on something- or rather, someone. It’s Neito’s shoulder. You shoot up, startling him.

“Woah, hey, what’s the matter???” He asks in pure confusion, looking at you now. You wince, very quickly realizing that there must’ve been a cut or something on your face because holy fuck it stings after resting on it. He notices your momentary discomfort, and it causes him to frown. It’s a burn, from Katsuki’s quirk.

“I can… heal that too.” Neito mumbles. It’s not anything terrible, it would heal on its own with no scarring. Your breath catches in your throat at the thought, but it doesn’t take you very long to nod. He leans forward and plants his lips on your cheek, letting them linger for a moment. The familiar tingly sensation bubbles up beneath your skin, the subtle ache from the injury fading away.

“What… time is it?” You ask, trying to quickly change the subject.

“Three. You were only out for like an hour.”

“Oh…” You look away. You suddenly remember his earlier threat and pull out your phone, using the selfie camera to examine your skin. He didn’t draw on your face after all.

“Oh come on.” Neito can’t help but laugh at how worried you were about it. “I told you I wasn’t going to do it.”

“Give me one good reason why I should trust you.”

“...Because I wouldn’t ruin such a pretty face with marker.” He winks, and you feel your face heating up again. “What? I just fixed your face.” He reaches out to brush his fingertips across your cheek. “Any other injuries I should take care of?” He jokes with a teasing smirk.

“Oh. Well...I think I… uh… split my lip.” You mumble before you can stop yourself. He looks momentarily flustered and his eyes meet yours for a moment before they flicker down to your soft lips. You open your mouth to speak. Apologize, take back what you said because oh my god that was cringe.

Then his mouth is on yours, kissing you with a gentle passion as his hands find your cheeks.

[misspygmypie]

Meet & Greet... and more? Pt. 9

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader Words: 2937 Click here for Part 8

Please do not repost, thank you, and leave some feedback :)

The months passed by with Y/N and Lando’s relationship growing deeper steadily. In the 11 months they had been with each other they both had learned to cope with Lando’s busy lifestyle. The next Grand Prix was just around the corner and Lando had always thrived on the adrenaline of racing but today the excitement was dimmed by a heavy feeling of responsibility. Every detail needed his attention and this meant missing Noah’s fifth birthday party, which was less than a week away.

He glanced at the demanding schedule on his desk and felt a pang of guilt. He opened his laptop and called Y/N, hoping to at least share a moment of happiness remotely via video. When her face appeared on the screen the dining table in the background was cluttered with birthday decorations ready to be hung up, of course racing themed.

“Hey baby,” Lando said, trying to sound upbeat. “How’s everything going for the big day?”

“Hi,” Y/N’s smile was warm. “We’re getting everything ready, he’s really excited and he’s been asking about you a lot.”

Lando tried to mask his sadness with a smile. “I’m sorry I can’t make it, things are just incredibly hectic right now.”

“I know,” Y/N replied, her eyes filled with understanding and concern. “He understands and he’s so proud of you! He even drew a picture of you racing and he’s been showing it off to everyone. He’s really looking forward to when you’re back and we can all spend some time together.”

Just then the boy appeared on the screen, holding up the drawing with a beaming smiley face. “Lando, look! I made this for you, it’s you in the car!”

Lando’s heart melted at the sight. “Wow, Noah, that’s fantastic! I’m going to keep it in my suitcase to remind me of you.”

Noah’s face lit up. “Will you win the race for me?”

“I’ll definitely try my best,” Lando said sincerely. “And when I get back, we’ll have a special day together. How about we finally go to a go-kart track and race like I do? You can show me how fast you are.”

“Really? That sounds amazing!” Noah’s eyes sparkled with excitement and Y/N gave Lando a grateful look. “Thank you for making the effort to connect, even if you can’t be here in person.”

‐—-------

In the days following the video call Lando couldn’t shake the guilt of missing Noah’s birthday. He had promised to make it up to them and he was determined to keep that promise. Between the hectic preparations for the Grand Prix and the relentless schedule it seemed nearly impossible but Lando was set on finding a way.

Late one evening he sat in his living room and stared at his calendar. Meetings, strategy sessions and media obligations filled every available slot. But the more he looked, the more he felt that missing Noah’s birthday wasn't just a minor oversight, it was an opportunity lost to be there for someone who meant so much to him.

The idea was simple: create a small window of time to surprise them before the Grand Prix. It would be tight, but with some help he believed it could be done.

“Hey, Oscar, do you have a moment to chat?” Lando spoke into his phone after his team mate had picked up.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“I need a huge favor,” Lando said. “Noah’s turning five this week and I’ve been looking forward to celebrating his birthday with him. But with all the media meetings and events I have lined up I’m struggling to figure out how to be in two places at once.”

Oscar listened carefully. “What can I do to help?”

Lando took a deep breath. “I was wondering if you could cover some of my media meetings and sponsor commitments for a few days. Noah and Y/N are my family now and I can’t bear the thought of missing this day.”

“I get it, Lando. Family is everything, I’d be happy to help out.”

“Thank you, Oscar,” Lando felt a surge of relief, “Noah looks up to me and Y/N has been incredibly supportive during our entire relationship. I want to be there for both of them just this once.”

Oscar chuckled softly, finding Lando’s dedication endearing. “You know, it’s kind of cute to see how much you care about them. It’s clear how much they mean to you.”

Lando smiled, a bit embarrassed, grateful that Oscar wasn’t able to see him. “Well, when you find the right people it changes everything. I’m really lucky to have them in my life.”

“Just send me the details and I’ll make sure everything runs smoothly. You focus on having a great time.”

“Thank you so much,” Lando said gratefully. “It means more to me than you know. I’ll get you all the details in a bit.”

“No problem at all,” Oscar assured him. “We’re all part of a team here and we support each other. If there’s anything else you need just let me know.”

With their conversation wrapped up, Lando quickly called his assistant to inform him of the changes and then compiled the necessary details for Oscar, relieved and grateful for his friend’s support.

_________

The day of the surprise arrived and Lando boarded a private jet early in the morning, arriving in Y/N’s city just in time to make the most of his brief visit. He kept his plan a secret, even from Y/N, to ensure it would be a complete surprise.

When Lando arrived at Y/N’s house, he was greeted by colorful birthday decorations and the buzz of children’s laughter. Y/N opened the door, her eyes widening in disbelief when she saw him.

“Lando! What are you doing here?” Y/N gasped and hugged her boyfriend tightly before kissing him for a few seconds.

“Surprise! I couldn’t miss his birthday, so I rearranged my schedule to be here.”

Y/N’s face lit up with happiness. “He’s going to be thrilled. He’s been so excited for today.”

As Noah ran up to the hallway his face brightened when he saw Lando. “You came!”

Lando crouched down and the two of them hugged tightly for a moment, then Lando handed the birthday boy a large box wrapped in orange, his favorite color. “This is for you, happy birthday, buddy.”

Noah eagerly unwrapped the box to find a high-quality remote-controlled race car. His eyes widened. “This is amazing, it’s just like the car you drive!”

“It is,” Lando said with a grin. “And I thought we could have some fun together testing it out.”

Before they could start playing Noah’s friends, who had been watching from a distance, gathered around, their eyes wide with disbelief as they recognized Lando. The kids stared in awe, their excitement growing as Lando greeted them. “Hi everyone,” Lando said with a friendly wave. “I’m glad to finally meet all of Noah’s friends.”

The children took turns asking Lando questions about racing and they all spent the afternoon racing the remote-controlled car around the yard, with Noah’s friends eagerly joining in to cheer them on. The party was a huge success and after seeing the joy on Noah’s face Lando knew he had made the right decision.

—-----

The next evening Lando was preparing to leave for the Grand Prix when Y/N approached him, Noah standing next to her with a small, carefully wrapped package.

“Before you go, Noah has something he made for you,” Y/N said. “He and his class had a project where they crafted gifts for the special people in their lives. He was really excited about this and he wanted to give this to you next time you were here.”

The boy, standing beside Y/N, handed over the gift. “I picked you because you’re my hero.”

“Aw,” Lando responded, visibly touched by the gesture, “thank you so much, I can’t wait to see what you’ve created.”

Lando unwrapped it eagerly but just as carefully and he discovered a handmade notebook. The cover was decorated with stickers, including race cars, stars and an orange glittery “L.” Inside, the pages were filled with Noah’s heartfelt notes and colorful drawings about their adventures at the tracks so far together.

Lando felt himself tear up as he flipped through the pages. Each drawing depicted a different scene, a race car zooming across a track, Lando in his racing suit and Noah himself with a big smile in the garage. But it was the final page that truly got to him.

The last drawing was a vibrant crayon depiction of a family. It showed Lando, Y/N and Noah together, smiling and holding hands, surrounded by stars and hearts. The drawing was labeled with the words: “Our Happy Family.”

Lando could barely keep himself from crying. He turned to Noah, who was watching him with wide, hopeful eyes. “This is the most beautiful drawing I’ve ever seen. It means so much to me that you see us this way.”

“I wanted you to have something special because you’re always so busy and away from us.”

Y/N, seeing Lando’s emotional reaction, added softly, “Noah was so proud of his project. He wanted you to know how much you mean to him.”

Just in that moment Y/N’s phone rang and she stepped away to answer. Lando took the opportunity to grab Noah’s hand and guide him to sit down next to him on the sofa. “Can I tell you something, Noah?”

The boy looked up, curious. “What is it?”

Lando took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “I want you to know how much I love both you and your mom. Being with you two has made me happier than I’ve ever been.”

Noah’s eyes widened with interest. “Really?”

“Really,” Lando said, nodding. “And there’s something I’ve been thinking about. I want to ask your mommy to marry me but I wanted to make sure you’re okay with it first.”

“You mean you want to be our family forever?” Noah’s face lit up with excitement and the young man smiled, feeling relieved. “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. I want us to be a family, just like in your drawing. What do you think?”

Noah thought for a moment, then asked shyly, “If you’re going to be our family, you kind of would be my dad then?”

Lando’s heart melted. “That would make me very happy. But let’s keep this a secret for now, okay? We’ll surprise your mommy together when the time is right.”

Noah nodded enthusiastically. “Okay, I won’t tell anyone,” he whispered and the both shared a big smile while Noah snuggled up to the man.

_____

Lando had spent the last few weeks juggling the thrill of Formula 1 races with the excitement of planning a surprise that meant more to him than any victory on the track. He had been dating Y/N for well over a year now, a year that had flown by in a blur of love and laughter. Their relationship had grown and Lando knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

There was just one thing missing: the perfect proposal. So, he decided to involve someone very important in his plan, someone who would have a unique perspective and whose opinion mattered a lot to both Y/N and Lando. That someone was Noah.

During his next weekend off Lando gently woke Y/N one morning and informed her about the day’s agenda.

“Good morning, love,” Lando said softly, smiling and kissing her forehead. “I’ve got a little surprise planned for you today.”

Y/N blinked sleepily. “Oh? And what’s that?”

“I’m taking Noah for a boys’ day out. You’re going to have a day to yourself; shopping, pampering, whatever you want, baby. Just relax and enjoy.”

“And what are you two up to?”

Lando gave a mysterious grin. “You’ll find out soon enough. Have fun today!”

With that he placed a loving kiss on her head and quietly tiptoed over to Noah’s room where the boy was already awake, the space a cheerful mess of toys. 

“Good morning, buddy,” Lando greeted, tousling his hair. “Are you ready for a little secret mission?”

Noah’s eyes widened with curiosity. “A mission? What kind of mission?”

Lando knelt down to Noah’s level, a playful grin on his face. “It’s a very important mission. I need your help to plan something really special for your mommy.”

“What is it?” Noah’s face lit up with excitement. 

“Remember when I told you a while ago that I wanted to ask your mom to marry me?” Lando asked. “I need your help to make sure it’s perfect. Can you help me with it?”

Noah’s eyes sparkled with delight. “Yes, I’ll help! What do we need to do?”

Before they were able to head out they had to get ready. First he had to get the boy dressed. Lando picked out a pair of comfy jeans, then held up a colorful, striped shirt and a grey hoodie. 

“Which one?” Lando asked, holding them up for Noah to see.

“This one,” Noah pointed at the hoodie, “so we look like twins because you’re wearing a similar hoodie.”

“Great choice,” Lando laughed, setting the clothes on the bed. “I have to start selling some LN4 merch for kids…” he mumbled to himself, still giggling while helping the kid put on the hoodie, carefully guiding his head through the hole and then assisting him with the jeans.

Next up were the shoes. Noah struggled a bit with the laces, so Lando patiently demonstrated how to tie them with the boy sitting on his lap and intensively watching the man make two bows and soon Noah was proudly showing off his neatly tied sneakers.

“You’re all set, bud” Lando said, giving Noah a playful fist bump.

Noah looked down at himself, beaming with pride. “Thanks, I look great.”

“You sure do,” Lando chuckled and a few minutes later they were on their way.

Lando could hardly contain his own excitement as they headed out, Noah chattering away about superheroes and cars. They made their way to a luxurious jewelry store that Lando had carefully selected and once inside Lando crouched down to Noah’s level. 

“Okay, buddy, here’s the plan. We’re going to pick out the prettiest ring we can find for your mommy. I want it to be perfect and I need your expert opinion. Do you think you can help me with that?”

The boy nodded proudly. They wandered through the store and he would occasionally stop to inspect a ring with intense focus. Lando enjoyed watching Noah’s careful consideration, amazed at just how seriously the little kid took his task.

After a while, Noah stopped in front of a classic, elegant ring with a solitaire diamond. His eyes grew big and he looked up at Lando with a confident grin. “I think this one is the best! It’s so shiny and pretty!”

Lando studied the ring. It was perfect; timeless and beautiful, just like Y/N. He smiled and nodded, clearly impressed. “I think you’re right. This is the one!”

Noah beamed with pride as the ring was carefully packaged. “I can’t wait to see mommy’s face when she sees it!”

With the ring selected they headed to a nearby fast food restaurant where Lando turned to Noah for ideas for the proposal. Over shared chicken nuggets, fries and milkshakes they came up with a perfect plan and after they had finished their meals and bought the rest of the supplies they would need they quickly made their way home knowing that Y/N was still going to be out for another few hours.

Back at the house they worked together to prepare the living room. They created a colorful path by lining the walls with some pictures Noah quickly drew, depicting past memories the three of them had made together and at the end of the trail is where they were going to wait for her.

When Y/N arrived a few hours later she followed the trail of Noah’s drawings, her heart swelling with emotion as she admired each piece, confused about what was happening but curious to find out what was awaiting at the end of the trail. Eventually she saw Noah with the biggest smile on his face, holding a large sign that read “Will You Marry Lando?”

In the center of the room and next to her son stood Lando, surrounded by Y/N’s favorite flowers and big red shiny heart balloons scattered around him and Noah. He took Y/N’s hand, his voice filled with emotion. “Y/N, we’ve been planning something special for you today.”

Noah, proudly holding the sign and not being able to wait any longer, added, “Mommy, Lando and I picked out a ring for you. We wanted it to be perfect!”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears as she looked back at Lando who dropped to one knee, holding out the beautiful ring. “Y/N, I love you more than words can express and I want nothing more than to be a family with you and Noah. Will you marry me?”

Overwhelmed with emotion Y/N nodded, tears streaming down her face. “Yes, Lando. Of course I will!”

Noah jumped up and down with joy just as Lando slipped the ring onto Y/N’s finger. They embraced each other tightly, with Noah joining in, sharing kisses knowing that the journey of their little family was just starting.

_____

Click here for Part 10! I can't stop writing this series, send help

Tag: @barcelonaloverf1life @remmysthings @poppyflower-22 @vickykazuya @hadids-world @ririyulife @deafeningunknowntyrant @lexiecampos @littlegrapejuice @eloriis @yawn-zi @landossainz @taliya8346282844eliviahdgdajs @casuallyeating @jaydensluv @destinyg237 @il0vereadingstuff @lnchicagosreads @alana4610 @hc-dutch @cherry-piee @wisestarfishbouquet

[eunnieboo]

IYHM ask replies! (2/3)

🌸 @csevet asked:

hi my copy of iyhm just came in and my fiancee and i snuggled up and read the whole thing cover to cover and CRIED!!! i love when lesbians 💕💞💝💗💝💗💘💞💖💗💝

AHHHHH thank you SO much!!! OMGGGGG 🥺 live laugh lesbian..... 💞💗💖💕💖💞💕💖💗

🌸 @chrysalis-the-butterfly asked:

I read If You'll Have Me a few months ago and I loved it! Your art is so pretty and Momo and PG are such cool characters! 🥰 If you're okay with sharing, I'd be interested to hear what inspired you during the creative process? Were there any pieces of media or any other characters which influenced the formation of Momo and PG? Or did you do your own thing?

oh my gosh! thank you!! i really love character interactions and relationship dynamics, so i wanted to depict two girls who seemed like opposites - one cool and laid-back, the other soft and sweet. after a while they started to take on a life of their own, and i thought it'd be wonderful if their story could evoke the feeling of a shoujo romance!

i had a lot of things on my mind when i wrote the script... friendship, intimacy, communication... communication can be so hard! sometimes it's harder with someone you're close to because their opinion is so important to you. and what happens when you've got a character who's non-confrontational and has low self-esteem + someone who prefers actions over words, and would rather burn bridges than admit to feeling vulnerable? how would they get past that? i wanted to write their flaws as believable, and how their life experiences have shaped the way they think about themselves / the way they respond to personal conflict... but also how they learn from each other and grow ❤️ tysm for the question!!

@bisexualgoof asked:

Hi Eunnie! I just finished reading “If You’ll Have Me” and let me tell you, it was spectacular! I saw it in a local bookstore the other day and it was a no brainer to grab. The characters are so fun, the story is beautiful and heartfelt, and honestly every character is attractive… I especially fell in love with the pages of the books without words, especially 312-313, it made me cry. Such beautiful art! I related to PG’s annoyance with her long hair, I felt very seen with her comments. I’ve definitely said “I’d like to forget” so many times myself, right to my butch heart haha. Thank you for sharing this story with the world, and thank you in particularly for your acknowledgment at the end of the book, it made me feel seen. What an amazing love story, hope to see more of this adorable couple in the future!

oh my goodness!! this is so lovely and wonderful and ahhh T_T thank you so very much. it's such a dream, having these girls be out in the world with their personalities and backstories revealed at last! and i'm so happy to hear about the cast and side characters, i love designing people hehe ♥ i'll definitely keep drawing this couple, alongside more sapphic couples that are to come 😍 thank you!!

🌸 @skittles-rainbow-cat asked:

HI HI HI!!! you’ve been one of my fave artists forever and i just got done with iyhm and it’s sooooo amazing im in love with it. also i think strawberry blonde by chloe moriondo fits mono and pg very well :] i hope you’re having a good day and thank you for all your art it heals me in many ways <3333

HIIII omg!!! thank you so much! this song is so cuteeee oh my gosh this line:

Takes my hand in hers when the lights aren’t on Smaller than mine and oh god I am gone

it's so sweet ;_; thank you forever, i hope you're having a wonderful day!! <3 <3 <3

🌸 @lord-of-the-froggies asked:

Howdy Eunnie! I know you're probably swamped with work right now, but I just wanna let you know that I got my copy of your book today!! I'm gonna start reading it right away, it looks and feels amazing. From a fellow Washington artist to another--congratulations on such a huge achievement!

yay hello fellow washingtonian! and fellow artist!! thank you so much for your kind words 🥺 and i'm so glad the book got to you safely! wishing you a happy read~

🌸 Anonymous asked:

I just found your art today and after scrolling through your stuff I went and pre-ordered your book. I'm so excited!!

omggg thank you that means so much!!! ;_; <3

🌸 @ddooyoung asked:

I got my (signed!) copy of the book, and I love it SO MUCH. It's everything I was hoping and more. I love finally getting to know them, especially Momo. Since the first time I saw them, I thought Momo was a lot like me and now I have confirmation 😆 Thank you so much for writing such a wonderful story!!! I'm excited for everything you do 💗

WAHH thank you so much!! yesss i'm so overjoyed to finally share their story after so long! i hope the signature turned out okay, i was very nervous signing books for the first time (shaky hand and everything) 😱 i think next time it would be fun to make a custom stamp and stamp a doodle next to my signature hehe. thank you again!!! 💕

🌸 Anonymous asked:

I somehow missed the news about your having created a whole damn book?? was just flipping through yu & me books's holiday gift guide and did a double take when I saw priscilla and momo!! zoomed in and sure enough, there was your name at the bottom! congrats on ihym and congrats on being featured on rec lists from shops as cool as yu & me 🎉😍

omggg thank you thank you!! 🥰 AHHH yu & me books looks so amazing! i've been to new york just once but if i ever get to go back i have to visit them... i'm always looking for indie bookstores to throw my money at 😤

🌸 Anonymous asked:

1. Will there be an “if you’ll have me” sequel? 2. Is Momo her full name or a Nick name? If it’s a Nick name what is her full name? Thank you i love your work! ❤️😊

ahh there's no sequel planned as of right now! but i'd love to make one if i get the chance... i have some ideas that i think would be fun <3 and momo gardner is her full name! i liked gardner because it made me think of flowers ☺️❤️ thank you so much!!

🌸 @upsidedown-shadow-dreamer asked:

Hello, long time fan here. If You'll Have Me was delivered an hour ago and I've already finished my first read. OMG it's AMAZING. I love the story, the beautiful art, the inner thoughts, the pacing, the page color changes for back story… Just major WOW. I hope you are so proud of this work. I'm already looking forward to reading it again. Thank you!!!

this is sooooo AHHHHH T_T i'm in tears. i can't tell you how happy and thrilled i am to hear this!!! it's so encouraging and uplifting and ahh!! i want to make more stories... and just knowing that this book will be read by the same person more than once, omg! it's truly the highest of praise. thank you from the bottom of my heart <333

🌸 Anonymous asked:

Hello!! I just remembered I could borrow graphic novels as e-books from my local library, found IYHM, devoured the entire thing in one sitting, then went through your tags so I could look at all your other IYHM art, and I was wondering if you'll make more stories about Momo and PG because I can't get enough of them! Absolutely obsessed with these two and I love seeing them so happy together 💖💖💖💖

hello!! oh i'm absolutely over the moon about this! i can definitely see myself making a follow-up book if i'm so lucky 🙏 but i'll keep on drawing more minicomics and illustrations no matter what!! thank you so much for this wonderful message 💕💕💕💕

🌸 Anonymous asked:

hi!! love love love your art!!! do you think we can expect to see another graphic novel about momo and priscilla in the future?

🌸 Anonymous asked:

I’ve read IYHM so many times already and I absolutely loved it!!!! Are you planning on writing another book with Momo and PG? Is is there a way we can buy more of your stories?

thank you both so much!!!! <3 a sequel is actually one of the ideas i pitched for my second book! my editor cautioned against it in case IYHM didn't perform well, so i ended up going in a different direction - but my fingers are crossed for future opportunities 😤 realistically, it will probably depend on sales... but for the record, i'd want to do one regardless of the numbers...

i have one more book coming out, which i'm working on right now! the timeline is a bit up in the air atm but i'll try to keep everyone posted. making a book is so slow but i'm so grateful to you all for waiting 🥺💛

🌸 @randomqueernoun asked:

Do you make webcomics for other apps/websites? If yes where can I find them and what do I search in them to find your comics?

ahh not at the moment! but thank you SO much for the interest! one of my biggest goals right now is to set up a website where i have all my work in one place, and that would definitely be the place where i post future webcomics 👀

also, just as an aside... i want to make webcomics so bad. i think after my next book, i might take a break from traditional publishing to do that. sometimes i can't believe i'm drawing hundreds of pages i can't post... i'm like, how are people supposed to read this if i can't show them? how will they know?! ahh it kills me... but yes... someday!!!

part 3 to come~

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Dark Lord (Part One)

Summary: The reader gets caught stealing from the infamous Dark Lord Winchester. Instead of killing her though, he offers her a job for some reason...

Pairing: Dark Lord!Dean x employee!reader

Word Count: 2,500ish

Warnings: language, briefly mentioned torture/killing

A/N: Think of this as a slightly magical AU set in the present day. I might pick this up again if there seems to be interest in more!...

________

“I don’t care what the hell you do to me, I’m not-” You cut yourself off when a blonde woman in her thirties and sky high heels held out a cup of hot coffee. “Is that…espresso?”

“It’s a roasted blend from Guatemala, boss is big on it lately. He’s so boring and never let’s me give him anything but straight black but I like to serve all our guests something nice.” She set the cup in your hand, an artisanal drawing of a W set in the center. “It has notes of hazelnut and caramel.”

“Thank you?” you said, her eyes lighting up. “Is this…poisoned?” 

Her face fell so fast you felt awful for the way tears prickled her eyes. “Everyone always asks that. It’s just nice coffee.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, taking a sip and smiling. “It’s lovely.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled, turning to leave the dark room you were sat in.

“It really is good coffee.” She perked up a little, nodding once. “It’s just…I couldn’t help but ask.”

You held up your chained hands, the woman giving a sad smile. “Dark Lord Winchester is really the sweetest man I’ve ever met. I have no idea why everyone that he has come in his office thinks he’s going to kill them.”

“He kills people all the time…over nothing…” you said. She laughed and your stomach dropped.

“Oh no, Lord Winchester doesn’t do that! I’ve never seen him kill a soul that didn’t deserve it. Well, maybe a few but I seriously doubt he’ll kill you! He doesn’t tend to kill women as often, just a little torture. I’m sure you’ll be fine!” You withered into your seat when she left.

At least you had good coffee before your demise.

You jumped when the door crashed open, hot coffee spilling over yourself. It dripped down your shirt and soaked into your jeans, your skin stinging when a blur passed your periphery. You swallowed thickly as a man in a black bomber jacket, dark gray t shirt and black jeans walked in front of you.  He crossed his muscular arms as he leaned back against the desk, peering down at you.

He looked like he wanted to kill you. Or fuck you. Or both.

“Hi, Dark Lord Winchester,” you squeaked out. He bent at his hips, leaning down, watching you slump down even further. “Oh fuck, just kill me now.”

“Not yet,” he hummed, straightening with a hard set jaw. He looked down his nose at you, making you feel like an ant under his mighty six foot one muscular frame. “My security caught you stealing from one of my warehouses. I’m told it was a prescription drug.”

“Yes, Lord Winchester,” you said quietly. You looked at your wet clothes, waiting for him to drag you down to his dungeon and rip you apart.

Instead a cell phone was tossed in your lap. You scrunched up your face and gazed up at him, Lord Winchester still staring you down. 

“Uh, is this my last call or something?” you asked. He breathed deeply, looking over your head. 

“Two options. Option one. I will kill you for stealing from me.”

“I’d like to hear option two,” you said quickly, Lord Winchester glaring at you.

“Option two. You work for me. I need an assistant and perhaps I’ll find you valuable enough to keep you alive long term.”

“Option two,” you said, nodding your head. He stood up straight and hummed. 

“I thought so. You’re dismissed,” he said. You glanced down at your cuffs, Lord Winchester ignoring you. He walked around behind his desk and sat, glancing at his computer. “Do not make me ask again.”

You scurried out of the chair, grasping the empty mug in one hand, cellphone in the other. 

“Y/L/N.” You froze, back to him. Fuck, he’d changed his mind. He was just toying with you. He was going to- “Get up to speed this afternoon. I expect you here to start eight am sharp.”

“Yes, Lord Winchester.” Quickly you left, pulling the door shut behind you. You let out a sigh, your overly friendly coffee bearing companion rushing around the corner with a smile. “I told you he wouldn’t kill you! Boss made me promise not to tell. I’m Donna by the way. Deputy Head of Security. I volunteered to be your new hire buddy!”

You blinked slowly at the blonde, tilting your head, her eyes drifting downward in alarm. “Oh no, you’ve burned yourself! Let’s get you out of those cuffs, to the infirmary and into a fresh change of clothes. Lord Winchester wants to go through all of your HR paperwork today and a brief tour before sending you home.”

“I uh,” you put a hand against your head, shaking it out. “Why did he give me a job and not kill me?”

“He must like you. Normally he kills people or tortures them or makes them pay him back with hefty interest. Oh!” She pulled out a thin envelope from her back pocket, handing it to you. “This is your offer letter. It’s not really an offer, more of you have to accept or you die sort of thing but he wanted to make sure you got this.”

You felt like you were in a strange dream as you tore it open, slowly walking by Donna’s side down a hallway. “So Michael is our staff doctor. He’ll check your arms-”

You nearly fell when you’d read the salary on the offer letter. Donna caught your waist, alarm written all over her face. “Oh my god. I’m calling for-”

You shoved the paper in her face, taping the bolded line. “Is this a joke? He’s paying me this much?”

Donna laughed, urging you to walk forward again. 

“Six figures? Six figures?!” you screeched, Donna shaking her head. “What-”

“Working for Lord Winchester is lucrative but…there’s an expectation of discretion. I mean, he is the Dark Lord of the land. It’s not the sort of job you want to slack off at.” 

“Wonderful.”

It was late, well into the evening, when you’d finished with your tour. You were in the lobby of Lord Winchester’s fortress, rubbing your eyes. Michael had given you a pair of scrubs to change into while your stained clothes were sent to the launder. Thankfully he’d deemed your skin only irritated from the hot coffee, not burned. Most of the day had been in HR, Donna sitting in to help guide you through your options.

Options like free healthcare. A pension. On-site housing. As his assistant, or “Personal Executive to The Dark Lord” as your title in the payroll system stated, you were expected to live in the fortress and move in this weekend. All covered and utilities paid for by the company. 

A chef that cooked all your meals, if you were so inclined. Shuttle services to and from school in town with a tutor available after school to help with homework. A grand library for kids to study in and for the adults to further their own educational studies if they chose. There was even an inter-company softball league that got quite competitive. 

Dark Lord Winchester on paper was the best fucking boss in the world.

A throat cleared behind you, making you jump and drop the stack of papers in your hands. You spun around, Dark Lord Winchester standing there.

“Sorry, sir,” you said, kneeling down, attempting to pick up the papers as quickly as possible. To your surprise, he dropped to one knee, leaning his body and grabbing a folder that had your company credit card inside. He held it out to you, deep green eyes watching you as you hesitated to take it.

“If you’re going to work for me, you can’t be scared shitless all the time.” You snatched the folder, his eyes raising briefly before he stood tall. He held out a hand, your own eyes wide. “This is where you put your hand in mine and I help you stand up.”

You swallowed, doing as told, his strong arm effortlessly pulling you up.

“Look at that. You touched me and didn’t turn to dust,” he chuckled. You only stared, Lord Winchester looking over your head. “Let me make something clear to you. I treat my employees extremely well. In return, I expect their best work and their loyalty. If you show up to work and do a good job, there is no reason to fear me.”

“How do I know I’m doing a good job?” you whispered. He looked down to you, pursing his lips.

“You’re the damn Executive Assistant to The Dark Lord. You ask a question, you do it with confidence. Ask correctly and I’ll answer.”

“How will I know I’m doing my job well?” you said, holding his gaze this time. 

“Any woman that would risk stealing from the Dark Lord, knowing very well what I do to thieves, to get medicine for their kid brother? That is the kind of woman that I know will do spectacular in this job.” 

You parted your lips, Dark Lord Winchester glancing at them before looking away. “How do you-”

“I know lots of things.” He checked the dark rolex on his wrist, frowning. “It’s late. I’ll drive you home myself. Wait on the front steps.”

You watched him go down a different hallway, your head going a million miles an hour.

What the fuck was happening?

You stepped outside and five minutes later, an older black Impala, very nicely taken care of, pulled up, Dark Lord Winchester behind the wheel. You slid in the passenger seat, a wonderful aroma in the air. He drove you home in silence save for the soft rock music playing through the speakers.

Your face burned when he drove that beautiful car through your less than glamorous neighborhood and as soon as he pulled to a stop in front of your very small rental, you were getting out. 

“Y/L/N,” he chided. You stopped halfway, Lord Winchester reaching into the backseat and pulling over the back a large white bag. “For you and your brother. Dinner and his medication for a few months. Michael will be able to refill it when it’s up and can schedule a physical with him to check if his treatment needs to alter. Please apologize to your brother from me. He’s likely frightened being alone judging by the way every light is on inside.”

You shook your head, your lip tugging up. He narrowed his eyes as your smirk grew. “What is that look for?”

“Dark Lord Winchester my ass. You’re a good person, aren’t you?” He scoffed. “Nah, I’m starting to see this for what it is. Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone you’re nice deep down.”

“I’m not nice,” he growled. You took the bag from his hand, softening your smile. “Do not think I’m kind.”

“Oh, of course not,” you said, holding up the bag. You got out, closing the door behind you. But you bent down, leaning into the open window. “Thank you. He…his asthma’s been getting worse lately. This will really help us. All of it will help.”

He was quiet, looking out at the dark road. “A car will pick you up at 7:30. Movers will come by Saturday morning to pack up your things.”

“Goodnight, Lord Winchester,” you said, stepping back.

“It’s Dean,” he said, revving the engine, making your heart race. He took off, your chest still thumping when you went inside. 

“Kyle! I’m home with dinner!” You called. Kyle came rushing out of the hallway, a blanket pulled over his head. “I’m so sorry I’m late, buddy. Did you get scared?”

“No,” said the twelve year old, doing an awful job of hiding his relief. “What’s for dinner?”

“I’m not sure. Why don’t you find out for us?” You handed him the bag, Kyle rushing back to the kitchen with it. “How was school?”

“Fine.” He said nothing more as you entered, pleasantly surprised to find a balanced dinner of chicken, vegetables and some sweet potatoes inside. “Is this take out?”

“No. I uh, got a new job today,” you said, opening the box that had his medicine inside. “Hey. Got you a refill.”

“What’s your new job?” he asked, taking a plate from you and scooting into his spot at the small two seater table.

“I uh…work for Dark Lord Winchester. We’re, uh, moving on Saturday to live at the fortress. You’ll have your own room and there’s some other kids that live there too for you to play with. He uh, actually wanted me to tell you how sorry he was for keeping me late tonight.”

“Really? Cool.” You rolled your eyes. “Does he actually wear a skull mask and a black cloak?”

“No,” you laughed. “He looks very normal. Maybe you’ll get to meet him someday.”

“Cool,” he said again, frowning when you pointed at his untouched vegetables. “Y/N-“

“Eat them or Dark Lord Winchester won’t be happy…” you chided, Kyle shrinking down into his seat, reluctantly taking a bite, a flash of surprise on his face.

“These are way better than when you make them!” He started to scarf down the brussels sprouts as you sighed.

“I’m not dead and you’re eating veggies for once. I’ll take that as a win for today.”

The Next Morning

“Good morning, Lord Winchester,” you said as you rose from your desk outside his office on the far end of the second floor, dressed in skinny jeans, a bright yellow sleeveless blouse and an oversized blazer. Dean looked you up and down, his eyebrows raising. “HR said the dress code-“

“If I wanted everyone to wear suits, I’d have everyone wear them. Your outfit is fine. You’re probably not going to wear heels with the running around you’ll do,” he said, entering his office, waving for you to follow after. His legs looked long in the dark denim that clung to his thighs. He wore a white long sleeve Henley shirt with a navy button up over top, sleeves rolled up his forearms. “If you would stop staring at me could we get started?”

Your face flushed as you sat in the chair opposite his desk, Dean sitting with a groan and greedily sucking down a cup of coffee. 

“So your job is to make my life easier,” he said, opening his laptop, frowning at it. “I get a lot of…requests from my department heads. I need you to be a buffer between me and them for the day to day. I also need you to handle pop ups and act as a sounding board for myself.”

“HR went over the expectations with me,” you said, Dean grunting as he drank more coffee again. 

“Great. I need you to start with brainstorming ideas for how to rescue my brother from Crowley. We’ll meet after lunch to discuss.”

“King of The Dark Lands Crowley?” Dean hummed. “Isn’t he…”

“A demon? Oh yeah,” he said, giving you a barely there smile. “Shouldn’t be a problem for a little thief like you.”

________

A/N: Read Part two here!

[minkdelovely]

kinktober — day IX

prompt: biting

ripe

“but i know

you’ve got a taste

so just take a

bite of me”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+

tags/warnings: biting, blood / blood play, dub-con (covering by bases here), flirting but make it cannibal (no actual consumption — that’s a different prompt lol), power dynamics (alastor’s not your boss but also not-not your boss?), heavy petting over clothes, digital stimulation, tentacle play, squirting, descriptions of biting, mentions of eating fruit and its texture 🍑✨

word count: 3.5k

summary: you make an off-handed comment that piques alastor’s interest, and he decides to test a hypothesis that ends with promising results!

author’s note: i don’t have much to say here (because it’s all in the body) but if you’ve got an oral fixation or a thing for biting my only hope is that this fits the bill 🙏🏻 oh and uh… i really hope y’all still like fruit after this lol quote is from the offering by sleep token.

coven: @fraugwinska @hazelfoureyes @macabr3-barbi3 @sugoi-writes @synamartia 🕯️♥️

the coven’s kinktober masterlist

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Everyone was snickering, but what you said had been innocent enough. And honest!

“What? Is that strange?”

Angel put his hand on your shoulder while the others tried to kill their laughs, looking at you with kind pity. “Babe,” he started, smile trembling as he fought to stay neutral, “down here that’s, like, one step away from bein’ a cannibal.”

Was it, really? 

You couldn’t recall how the conversation ended up here, but you had all been discussing your favorite fruits. When it was your turn to share, all you had said was that you preferred fleshy fruits because they were satisfying to bite. Peaches, especially. 

Though perhaps the laughter had been a blessing in disguise. It prevented you from finishing your thought, the remainder of which you now resigned to keep to yourself. Wide eyes and the blush burning your face brought the group to heel as they noticed your embarrassment, coughing to smother what was left of their mirth.

“It’s not strange at all,” Charlie said reassuringly. “Your answer was just…,” her hands danced in the air as she scrambled for her next word, “unexpected! But now that you mention it, I like grapes because they pop!”

That earned her a few sideward glances and teasing eyebrow wiggles, but she immediately dove into how texture was just as important as taste when it came to food in some cultures. Whether or not she was falling on the sword, you did appreciate her commiseration. It was enough to draw away attention from your admission, and the conversation eventually made its way to other topics. Before you knew it, the bonding session was done and you were all going your separate ways.

You were headed to your room to freshen up when Alastor caught you in front of the elevator. 

“Afternoon, my dear! Do you have a moment? There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.” His static voice was polite enough, but his grin seemed a bit… dubious.

Still, you didn’t really have a reason not to be honest. The two of you had a decent working relationship. Being in charge of inventory, Alastor checked in with you twice a day: nine in the morning and at night. You had already met up with him this morning, giving him a full rundown on what was stocked, what was getting low, and a few things Charlie had wanted to spruce up the common areas with. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary then, at least, despite his displeasure at the knickknacks the Princess had suggested.

Maybe something had happened while you were busy with the group? In the months you had known each other, Alastor had never asked for an impromptu meeting before… But there’s a first time for everything.

“Yes, I have time,” you conceded. “I was gonna touch up a bit, but I’ll just grab my binder and meet you in the conference room?”

The small conference room, A, down the hall of the main floor was where you usually met to go over your reports. It hadn’t been specifically designated for you two, but you met there so regularly everyone knew to leave it be. Being on the wrong side of Alastor’s temper wasn’t worth the trouble when there were other rooms available, if needed. 

“There will be no need for that,” Alastor assured brightly, hooking your arm through his to pivot from the elevator. “It’s something of a personal nature, actually.”

“Personal?” you blurted, immediately flushing at the slip. “Not that I mind, it’s just…”

Alastor smiled down at you, knowing what you meant without finishing your explanation. The relationship you had with him was strictly professional. Sure, you were friendly enough but in the way that co-workers are, but not confidants. For all intents and purposes, Alastor was your boss. If he was having problems in his personal life, he had friends worthy of his station to seek council with. So why you, all of a sudden? What advice could you possibly give to an Overlord who had been here for nearly a century while you were wet behind the ears?

There wasn’t much time to linger on it though, having quickly made it to your destination. Alastor removed himself from you to open the door, sweeping his arm before you with a flourish, directing you inside. The hand he placed on the dip of your back as you moved past him made you jump a little. 

Another first.

But you dismissed it, hoping your reaction didn’t put him off. This wasn’t a business meeting, after all. It was personal. And it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. In fact, it was a bit surprising how much the gesture excited you. The light pressure of his hand spanning across the back of your waist made you acutely aware of just how much larger he was than you. Something you had registered neutrally as pure fact — he towered over most, if not all of you living here — was now making your heart quicken.

Alastor was debonair, to be sure, but you had always kept the lines between you clear in your mind. Well… as much as you could, for your part. It would be a lie to say that your daydreams didn’t wander now and then. But as a rule, you had never entertained a romantic interest in anyone you worked with. Don’t shit where you eat, you remember your father joking on your first morning as part of the workforce. 

It was advice you took to the grave, apparently.

You were about to take your usual seat when Alastor tutted and tapped on the lacquered tabletop with his microphone. When you turned to look up at him, confused, you were met only with his expectant face lilting to the right in silent indication of where he wanted you to sit. 

“I really don’t understand this,” you muttered, apprehensive, but proceeded to sit yourself on the table anyway. You had to stand up on your toes to achieve it, feeling Alastor’s eyes on you the entire time it took you to get up there and settle.

He grabbed the chair next to you and adjusted it slightly before placing it in front of you to sit, causing you to squirm. Alastor was collected as ever, primping himself as if he weren’t practically sitting between your legs. Even with his impressive height, you were looking down at him. Not by much, with how he had raised the chair you were somewhat at eye level, but it was odd all the same. Perhaps even the intention.

Still… you felt anxious. Like waiting for bad news at the doctor’s office. Legs swinging softly over the edge of what might as well be an examination table just to give yourself something to do while you waited for him to speak.

“I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation earlier,” he said, folding his hands in his lap. “For the record, I don’t think that puts you a step away from cannibalism.”

Is that was this was all about? Not that you had any idea of what to expect him to want to talk about, but this topic didn’t bring you any relief. You knew about his proclivities — hell, you were responsible for keeping certain items in stock for him! You shifted a little, feeling more under the scope than ever as he merely stared. The placid smile on his face akin to that of a biding alligator, luring its prey into a false sense of security with inaction.

“I don’t believe you got the chance to speak your peace on the matter,” he continued, voice smooth despite the static overlay. “And I, for one, am curious to hear more. If you’ll indulge me.”

He was right, in the strange way that he always seemed to be. His ability to read people was frightening — a quality you noticed others weren’t nearly as wary of as they should be. Too distracted by his enigmatic reputation and penchant for violence.

The image of a lolling alligator came back, closer to the shore. 

“Well, that really was most of it. I just… enjoy the texture of fruits like that? There’s not much else to say.”

Alastor blinked, one eye then the other, waiting for you to elaborate. But it felt too humiliating to say the rest. 

How you relished the sensation of your teeth piercing the skin, hearing and feeling the pop from serration. Sinking into the soft flesh, juice pooling in your mouth and inevitably down the side of it; dripping from your chin down to the floor. It was one of the few times you allowed yourself to be somewhat messy. Not caring about the juice that dried sticky on your face and hands — a sensory discomfort you couldn’t stand otherwise. It was part of the experience. Something about it tapping into a more primal part of your brain.

There were aspects of this you knew he’d understand, but you had never said these things out loud before. And you could tell that he knew you were holding out. You wouldn’t put it past him to keep you cooped up here for the rest of the day until you relented, and deflated.

Might as well rip off the bandaid…

“I like the way it feels when I bite into them the most.” The words fell out of your mouth, rushed and close together. Feeling much like you were confessing to your parents that you broke the neighbor’s window. 

When he didn’t answer, you began to ramble. The sensations you had just gone over in your head pouring from your mouth in a nervous effort to appease him and get the fuck out of there. You didn’t notice that he had inched closer, or how your legs had unconsciously spread to allow him room to do so. It wasn’t until his hands were on your hips that you snapped out of your babbling, his face the very picture of nonchalant. But his smile…

You were caught.

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it? Don’t you feel better, getting that off your chest?” he mused, thumbs rubbing circles on your hips. “And you’ve never been curious about taking a bite of something else? I’m not so sure.”

You yelped when he pulled you to the edge of the table, your legs on either side of his chest. It was only now that you realized how much the hem of your dress had risen, and you gave yourself a silent prayer of thanks for wearing black stockings today. Exposed as you were, it gave you some comfort that so far only your soul remained bare to him.

“I take my mentoring quite seriously,” he went on, crimson eyes burning holes into your psyche. His eye contact was something you had admired professionally, but withered under now. Heartbeat in your throat as his left hand roamed up to your waist, the right holding fast on your hip. “It seems I’ve overlooked an opportunity in your development. If you’d let me, I’d love to give you a demonstration.”

“Demonstrate what?” The question came out harsh, but he was talking around the subject and you were still trying to figure out how you practically ended up in his lap. Even worse, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away from him, despite his forwardness, so you put your frustration in your mouth. “And where is this coming from? If this is your idea of flirting, it’s a little direct.”

You had to keep one hand planted on the table to maintain your balance, but you grabbed at the wrist of his hand that had moved to your leg in a futile attempt to hold him still.

Alastor chuckled, delighted, the hand you held now opting to massage the flesh underneath it as his smile widened. “Ooh, you’ve got a bit of a temper! Enchanting.”

He laughed again when you did your best to jab him in the side with your left knee, his kneading hand unrelenting on your thigh. You could feel the heat in your face beginning to trickle down, an ache blossoming between your legs as he leaned in.

“Flirting? I suppose you could call it that. But as for my being direct, as you put it,” his expression was coquettish as he leaned closer still. The tickle of his breath on your face as he spoke, “I just happen to know that this is a method you prefer. Or haven’t you noticed?”

Flashes of interactions played in your mind. While he had never been rude, you couldn’t deny that when you discussed business he was always concise and clear with his directions. There were never any gaps you had to try and fill or ruminate over what was expected of you. Not only did it allow you to get your job done, but to flourish while doing so. To the point where you were able to even anticipate certain needs before they were asked. Something Alastor had been particularly pleased with, which in turn, made you aim to do it more.

Fuck. He was right.

Alastor must have seen the revelation on your face in the way you felt it crumble, ashamed to have been read so easily. In more ways than one, he had you in the palm of his hand.

“There’s no need for all that,” he cooed, “It’s worked out well for us so far, hasn’t it? Think of this as a trust exercise!”

You wriggled against him and looked away, not wholly convinced. “I still don’t understand what the goal is here… You’re only being direct with your hands, not your words.”

If it wasn’t exactly flirting or seduction, what was it, then? Lessons in cannibalism? A shiver down your spine left you with a strange blend of nausea and intrigue. You did your best to ignore the throb you felt in your groin.

“The goal, my dear, is to find out just how far your fascination with biting goes. And before I offer up my own neck, we need to make sure you know what you’re doing. Hence, the demonstration.”

Alastor placed his palm over your mound, using the heel of his hand to grind against your sensitive nub. Your body jerked, the small scream of shock and pleasure that left you echoing in the room. With your hand still wrapped around his wrist, you could feel the way his bones moved under the skin. The sensation of it dueling with the arousal he was drawing from you in a way that replaced your mind with hot air.

“Wha—mm! What are you doing that for?” you managed to ask, breath heavy and face hot with embarrassment.

“My, what a face you’re making,” Alastor teased, leaning forward to lick a stripe up your cheek with his long tongue. His low chuckle rang in your ears, drowning out your own wanton gasp. “But to answer your question, I need to… ripen the fruit, so to speak.”

His hand over your sex emphasized this with a squeeze and you squealed, thighs clenching around his body in reflex. It only served to press him firmer against you, your grip on his wrist quickly becoming your tether to reality as his fingers stroked you over your stockings and panties. It took longer than you’d have liked for his answer to land, alarm bells going off somewhere in the haze that had become your logic.

“You can’t — ahh! You’re gonna bite there?!” 

Alastor laughed but didn’t stop working his fingers. The gaze he set on you was patronizing, but amused. As if you were a child who had unwittingly said something profane or clever. 

“No, darling, not today. That’s a bit much for the first time.” His voice dropped a couple octaves when he continued, leaning in to speak into your ear, “But I’d be happy to indulge you, should you enjoy our little experiment.”

You whimpered, your hand on him tightening as his lips planted a kiss behind your ear. 

He continued to pepper your neck, pausing now and then to tease you with a lick or graze of teeth. All the while his hand remained hard at work, your hips mindlessly rolling into his touch. The sound of your panting and moans harmonized with Alastor’s static, making the air around you heady and alive. Pressure mounting and threatening to spill over like the coil in your belly.

It was so hard to concentrate, feeling so surrounded by him. Alastor’s mouth had now latched onto your neck where it met your shoulder, sucking a bruise you knew would take at least a week to recover from. You didn’t even realize you had been saying his name with nearly every rock of your hips, chasing down your orgasm as he growled against your skin. His own hips grinding himself into nothing but the seat of the chair as his arm wrapped around your back to hold you close. 

The sting of his nails digging into your ribs didn’t even phase you as he gave your neck its first real bite. You cried out, hips stuttering as his tongue soothed over the raw patch of flesh. It hadn’t been strong enough to break the skin, but the rush of heat you felt prickling your neck and cunt was undeniable.

You wanted more.

 “Alastor, please… I’m so close,” you whined, feeling secure enough now to clasp your hands behind his neck. 

Whether it was what you said or how you clung to him, something triggered him to lose his composure, if momentarily. But you feared you would never forget the popping feeling of your stockings breaking under the force of his claw or the sound of tearing fabric that followed. His thumb swept down into your folds to collect your slick before resuming its task, rubbing harsh circles over your clit. The direct contact was almost overwhelming and you keened, high and desperate. Earning a low rumble of satisfaction from him in return.

Soon there was another sensation, something cool and slippery probing your entrance. It pushed forward just as he bit you again, this time on the shoulder. You felt your skin give in, the slightest puncture of his teeth sending a thrill through you. His saliva stung the minor wound, but the appendage working your core was more than a distraction. The lewd sound of your arousal now competing with your mindless cries.

“This is it, darling. Are you ready?” Alastor’s voice was husky and eager, while his eyes threatened to eat you alive. In a sense, he was, and all you could do to answer him was nod your head. 

He ran his tongue over his teeth before he hid his face in your neck again, placing open-mouthed kisses wherever his lips could touch before he settled back over the bruise. You moaned as he lapped at it, his tongue wide and firm, contrasting the pace of his thumb and what you now assumed to be one of his tentacles inside you. The last thing you truly remembered was his mouth parting over your skin. Everything that followed seemed to merge into one.

Was it your climax that urged him to bite down? Or was it the bite that set it off? It was more than possible that they happened in tandem… Alastor always did have impeccable timing. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your vision went white, the force of your orgasm with the exquisite pain of the bite nearly sending you into unconsciousness. As you began to return to yourself, it felt as if your body had three heartbeats. One in your chest, one in your neck, and one between your hips. 

You were vaguely aware of feeling wet. Sweat had made your clothes stick to your skin, but you could feel it in your lap as well as on your chest and back. The tentacle had retreated from your core and Alastor’s hand was back on your hip, his other still holding you against him as you heaved to catch your breath. He was breathing harshly through his nose, his teeth still buried in you as his mouth siphoned as much of your blood as it could. Your pulse seemed to match the rhythm of his swallowing throat, the early signs of pain beginning to bubble under your skin as your orgasm and adrenaline waned.

But on the whole, you felt incredible. Euphoric. As if your entire body had let go of some unknown burden, it was a delicious relief you knew you’d be chasing for the rest of your afterlife.

After a few moments, Alastor removed himself, blood coating his chin as he smiled up at you. Eyes glazed with an almost drunken glee. “What’s the verdict?”

You leaned down and licked off some of the blood, an absent thought of whether or not it was all yours coming to mind. Though in the end, that wasn’t really important, was it? Especially not when you pulled back to take in his voracious face, ears pinned to his head as his hands gave you a squeeze.

“How soon can we schedule the next trust exercise?”

Alastor chuckled, low and amused. “How proactive you are. We can talk about it while I get you cleaned up.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

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[torawro]

I’D DIE FOR YOU (AND I HAVE). ( s.a. )

sousuke aizen & black!fem!reader.

cw ━━ ! minors, blank and ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT. reader is portrayed as a black woman but you do not have to imagine her that way. using this map of the seireitei as a reference (i searched high and low for a consistent accurate one but it was hard). the first half is set pre-ryoka invasion / pre-soul society arc. the second half is aizen-centric (from his pov told from the 3rd person) and set post-tybw arc, years after he was sealed away in mugen, also including mention of events from vol. 1 of can't fear your own world (a light novel that's post-tybw & can be considered canonical); so all this being said: SPOILERS i guess???? of course you're welcome to read if you don't care about spoilers! somewhat based on 'die for you' by the weeknd & even more loosely based on 'dark red' by steve lacy. contains themes of heavy-ish angst, existential crises (?) & inner emotional turmoil within reader + aizen (separately). descriptions of character death, blood and violence. descriptions of manipulation/mind games. aizen is an unkind man. proofread (i did my best).

word count ━━ 11k

notes ━━ ! the way this fic was supposed to finished a month ago...but life once more gets in my way. and the way that it's this long....i anticipated the max being 10k but i greatly underestimated how long it would take to flesh out my idea. anywho i'm somewhat reentering my bleach era again. i’m not sure what it is but character analyses in the form of fanfiction is my jam rn like i really enjoyed writing this (i got tired of the length by like... 7k words lmao) but i like how this turned out. i've watched & read quite a bit of content that provide explanations as to why aizen is the way he is so i wanted to try my own portrayal of that in the context of canonical events. how i characterized him here is partially inspired by a fic i read about him last year so shout out to them for their support :D i hope i've depicted and humanized aizen well ♡. reblogs + commentary are heavily appreciated!!!!!

THE PAD OF YOUR THUMB SLOWLY glided against your bottom lip, the lingering aftertaste of jasmine tea still on its surface and on your breath. The absentminded motion of your thumb caressing your mouth, as if in deep contemplation, continued as you stared at the clock hanging on the wall above you.

It was past eleven, and the midnight hour only continued to draw near as time sustained its temporal march. And there you sat at your desk, floating in the limbo of your mind that was filled with hesitancy and admittedly, budding anticipation.

Your gaze lowered to the now empty porcelain cup, nothing remaining of its contents except the shriveled remnants of herbs and a few wayward drops of the brew.

Your senior comrade, captain Sōsuke Aizen, was correct in his prediction that you'd take a liking to its floral and delicate taste when he gifted you a jar full of the jasmine tea leaves as well as other ingredients.

The captain of Squad 5 seemed to be correct about a lot of things.

His intelligence and foresight, along with his kind and politely witty disposition, were qualities that you found somewhat charming, and gradually drew you closer to him.

Being the current third seat of the 9th company, your barracks and those of squad 5's were relatively close to each other's, so often you'd catch glimpses of and run into Captain Aizen on a pretty normal basis. Over the years, the conversations that bounced between the two of you expanded past the realm of formalities between a higher and lower ranking officer, and instead ranged in territories from literature, to art, to food & drink, and even to the politics of the government for which they were soldiers for.

Sometimes, you found it hard to believe that you managed to befriend a man like him. A man who seems to have mastered the balance between being a gentle soul, helpful to others, but also possessed enough refined power and skills to be named a captain within the Gotei 13.

Especially a man who wasn’t even of your own squad.

Despite the increasingly friendly relations and generally pleasant conversation, there were few moments where Aizen's words didn't feel quite. . . . real━ he didn't feel real. He spoke eloquently, often relying on figurative language to further illustrate his point and to breathe meaning into seemingly plain and meaningless words. But at times those words, his tone felt stained; stained with some substance or color you couldn't quite place. An enigmatic façade was painted over his speech, and it took too much mental capacity to try and find your own meaning in it.

So you'd often brush it off. Your over-reliance on your own reasoning that 'you weren’t able to come to a conclusion because there is no problem a conclusion could be generated from' successfully quieted your mind’s voice. You'd also frequently blame exhaustion, or your newfound hobby of watching human psychological crime shows during your off days for these subconscious ideas you had.

But you feared that the request Aizen made of you yesterday, the source of your current predicament, couldn't be blamed on any of those things. You looked at the clock again before returning to stare at your empty tea cup. For what reason could Sōsuke Aizen wish to meet you outside of the 1st division barracks? Specifically at this hour? You immediately thought of his question as uncharacteristic of him but prevented yourself from jumping to any further conclusions.

Aizen was a reasonable man, and you were sure there was a reasonable explanation.

With a final sigh of acquiescence, you stood up from your sitting position to retie your yukata before slipping a thicker, dark colored haori on top. You were unsure how cold it was this late at night or how long you'd be out, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

You paused for a moment, glancing longingly at your vanity mirror a few times, clearly torn between a decision, before giving in with a soft groan. Grabbing your favorite perfume, you quickly spritzed the spray onto both your inner wrists, either sides of your neck, and stray areas on your clothes. You’d proceed to make sure your hair was in order and your lips were as moisturized and glossy as a pair of tear-filled eyes before making your way to the door and slipping on your sandals.

Meeting with a captain— with Aizen of all people— in the dead of night resembled too closely to forbidden lovers rendezvousing under a fruit tree to fulfill their desires of embracing one another, with no one but the moon as their witness. The comparison alone caused the apples of your cheeks to burst aflame with embarrassment, and you lightly chastised yourself for even indulging in such an inappropriate train of thought. Such a scenario seemed far too deluded to even be considered ‘wishful thinking’.

But those delusions still seemed to make more sense than whatever other conclusion you have yet to reach.

Making your way out of your personal quarters, you activated your shunpo technique, stealthily hopping from one rooftop to the other in an effort to make it to Squad 1 barracks quicker.

After several minutes, your mind mostly engulfed with the 'what if's', the soles of your sandals finally touched ground, and you stood a few feet away from the massive walls and bridges that connected to and from the barracks. Even at night you were able to make out the bold-printed kanji for the number 1 that was painted on the building.

When you arrived, even from a nearby rooftop, you didn't see anyone around. Feelings of confusion and worry began to creep up and flicker to life in your mind.

But, as if your thoughts were as audible, you felt a light breeze of wind behind you, a familiar sound that indicated someone had made their presence known.

Startled, you reflexively reached for your zanpakuto, when you remembered that you hadn't even brought it with you. It still laid against the wall near your bed, just where you placed it earlier when you were relieved of your duties for the day.

You didn't think you needed it necessarily if you were just going to meet with Aizen, hence why taking it with you slipped your mind.

The flickers of concern were swiftly extinguished as your brain caught up with your body upon realizing who just appeared. A relieved sigh left your lips, a breath of air that seemed to release all the tension that had a grip on your heart and wound tight within your muscles. "Ah! Good evening Captain Aizen. You caught me off guard for a moment there."

"My apologies, that was not at all my intention." The Fifth Division Captain sported a dark colored scarf, his long captain's coat and the standard shihakushō all Gotei officers were supposed to wear. In the sash around his waist resided his own sheathed zanpakuto. His tawny hair maintained its usual part but looked slightly tousled, yet still remaining so in a meticulous fashion that made it look intentional.

The state of his hair alone, and his current facial expression made Aizen look more . . . approachable if that’s how you were to describe it. There was a glint in his eyes that you had seldom seen before.

"Thank you, for making your way down here to accommodate my rather. . . . atypical request. I again extend my apologies if I have inconvenienced you in any way."

You shook your head in reply, "It's alright, I wasn't doing anything too important anyway. Just having a cup of tea and delighting myself in a book before bed."

You glanced downwards at the foot or so of space that was wedged in between the two of you. You forced away the murmurs of your lingering thoughts that took note of how the moonlight and shadows danced across the surface of Aizen's face just right, and emphasized his decidedly handsome features.

"But having a complete and good night's rest is important to be fully functional in all areas of one's performance. Wouldn't you agree?"

You couldn't help but chuckle softly. "Yes, I do agree with that sentiment."

Aizen all but hummed in acknowledgement, letting a moment of silence fill the air before speaking again.

"Shall we be on our way?"

You nodded in agreement, following him as the both of you walked about the First Division grounds. From what you could tell based on your position, your aimless nightly stroll drew you closer to where Sokyoku Hill was located. The area became increasingly more grassy and contained less buildings.

Although Squad 1 grounds weren't terribly far from either of your barracks, you still weren't sure as to why Captain Aizen wished to meet out here. Initially you thought that perhaps he was just fond of this particular scenery, but really it could have been anything.

But still, you believed Aizen always had a purpose for everything he did.

After several moments, his warm voice replaced the evening silence, vocalizing your current thoughts. “I assume you are contemplating why it is I have asked you here, and I’m afraid the reason is quite benign. Truthfully, I just wished for your company. I often go on night walks to clear my head after a long day and thought I might invite you to join me this time, and have a conversation with each other."

Your brows shifted upwards, for that was not quite the answer you were expecting. It seemed too . . . simple. “Really? You just . . . wanted to talk with me? Plainly?”

The Squad 5 captain let out a short, soft laugh at the disbelief that was painted on your face. There was an expression of fondness present in his eyes and in the light smile he offered you. “Yes, exactly. I quite enjoy our discussions actually, they’re intellectually stimulating and relatively pleasant. You crossed my mind, and before yesterday, it has been quite some time since we’ve had the opportunity to unwind and talk.”

You hummed an mhmm in agreement, tearing your eyes away from Aizen’s side profile in favor of the hem of his captain’s haori, watching how it danced in the soft breeze. It seemed to be less distracting than the way Aizen peered down at you from time to time.

"I see. I am. . . . truly flattered by your words, Captain Aizen; you're too kind. Forgive me for asking but," you took longer strides so that you could fall into step next to him━ as if to speak to him more directly, "Why at this time? To talk with me, I mean. It couldn't wait until more . . . . . conventional hours?"

He chuckled again, and answered as smoothly as if he were awaiting you to ask him that. "Unfortunately, today's tasks ran a little long today, so I had to stay at my office later than usual." The spectacled man paused for a moment, before setting his soft gaze on you, "And besides, that completely defeats the purpose of inviting you on a night stroll, doesn't it?"

You ignored the heat flaring up in your cheeks again. Your mind refused to move past the fact that you had crossed Sōsuke Aizen's mind enough times━ or the times that he thought about you were significant enough━ and highly enough to invite you into his realm and indulge in these moments with him, when he very much could have done that alone.

A tender smile appeared on your lips, more towards yourself than the man next to you. "I. . . suppose it does."

The ashen-white moon only rose higher in the sky, providing an ambiance of tranquility as the both of you talked about whatever crossed the surface of your minds. Other times, the stillness of the night did the talking, and you'd listen to the leaves, and the wind, and the crickets sing together in harmony. Gradually as you walked and the beaten path grew more narrow, your figures drew closer together, until you could feel the long sleeves of his haori brush against your own.

You hadn't noticed that the two of you eventually stopped walking and paused under a tree until Aizen struck up conversation once more. When he called out your name in that gentle, velvety voice, you swore your heart was going to lurch out of your chest. The sound of your name rolled of his tongue so smoothly, the desire to hear it again grew within you.

"Uh━ yes, Captain Aizen?"

"Are you satisfied with way things are at the moment?"

You stood next to him, perplexed at his inquiry due to its vague nature. "Um, what. . . . things? I'm afraid I don't understand what you're asking."

The wind brushed Aizen's dark ochre tresses across his face as he took a step towards you, like the breeze itself was pushing him towards you. "Hm, perhaps I should be more clear then. Are you content with being a soul reaper? Are you satisfied with being a soldier for the Soul Society?"

With your brows slightly furrowed in thought, you remained silent for several seconds and overanalyzed his every word, trying to predict where he might be steering the conversation now. The longer you thought it over, the stronger that nagging feeling from within your soul became. The one that often told you what he was asking wasn't exactly . . . it didn't quite feel . . . . .

"This feels like a prelude to another insightful discussion on Shinigami━ and by extension━ Seiretei politics." Your words cut off your own thoughts, as if your mind was trying to sweep something under the proverbial rug.

Aizen huffed in amusement, before lightly shrugging, leaving your statement definitively unanswered.

You sighed as you seriously considered his question this time. "I mean sure, I guess. I'm somewhat satisfied with my job and all of . . . this," gesturing your hands in the air around you to emphasize your point. The 5th Division Captain made another humming noise, indicating that you still had his full attention. He inched a little closer into your personal space.

The mere action caused your next words to die in your throat and a quiet chuckle resounded from his, before your thoughts revived themselves again.

"Of course things could always be better but. . . . y'know. This is just how it is." You weren't quite sure if you should voice negative opinions about the Soul Society so plainly to a senior officer, even if he was the one who asked you in the first place, so you treaded lightly.

The same plainly relaxed smile from earlier remained painted across his lips, held in his chestnut irises was an emotion akin to affection. He seemed somewhat pleased that you were expressing your thoughts with him.

“And you? Are you satisfied, Captain Aizen?” You were unable to keep the teasing endearment out of your tone as you returned his gaze, casting aside the notions of Gotei officer seating and ranks for the moment. The air seemed like it shifted━ towards what, you weren't sure of━ but it kind of made you feel like you were adrift, floating in isolation from everything else around you.

It was still hard to process that you were alone with Captain Aizen right now. . . . at night.

A low hum reverberated within his chest, contemplative in nature as he replied, “Perhaps.”

The wind whistled lowly again, erecting goosebumps on whatever part of your skin happened to catch the midnight breeze. You fought the instinctual urge to twitch towards the nearest source of heat, which happened to be Aizen. Now that would be even more wholly inappropriate than the 'lovers meeting at midnight' scenario.

The silence between the both of you was brief, but comfortable nonetheless. Once more his mellifluous voice cut through the quiet, leveled and calm, like still ocean waters.

“Come. I want to show you something,” Aizen reached his arm out towards you, your spine as straight as if someone stuck a metal rod dipped in ice water down your robes.

The captain's movements seemed steady and slow━ it had felt like time itself had hesitated for several moments. You thought he was going to . . . . well you weren't sure what he was going to do, and that's what you made you nervous.

Was he going to touch you? Cradle your cheek? Remove a stray leaf that happened to land on your head? You were left somewhat dangling in anticipation, not daring to flinch backwards because you felt it would be disrespectful or offensive. You hadn't even blinked, subconsciously fearing that this was only a very vivid daydream.

But alas, when his arm drew near it extended past your head, slightly above you, and held a small branch in his palm it like a delicate flower. You released a breath you didn't know you were holding, but that breath drew short again when your gaze was eye level with his lower neck and chin.

He seemed . . . . closer.

“I think that regarding the condition of the Soul Society," Aizen began in a quiet voice, referencing his own reply to his earlier question, "and therefore my thoughts about it, is akin to this set of leaves on this branch."

Snapping out of whatever stupor you seemed to have slipped in, you exhaled softly before stepping back a bit to look at what he was talking about. In his palm he cradled a wayward branch that grew from one of the other sturdier branches of the tree. The green foliage of its arms had started to weaken and dull in color. The cold air due to the seasonal transition to autumn caused the leaves become brittle, nearing closer to the edge of death.

The sound of just how brittle they were resounded in the air when Aizen thumbed the leaves in between his fingertips, observing their texture with pity laced in his small movements.

"These leaves will fall off as it gets colder. And soon, the rest of this tree will be bare as well. When the time comes, when the right circumstances fall into place, the old die to make way and usher in the new; it's simply the way things are. I think of the Soul Society government is structured in a similar manner."

You hung onto his every word, like he were imparting crucial wisdom to you. Even though you were a bit confused on the last part, and on the connection between dying leaves and Soul Society, you still listened intently, waiting for him bridge the gap between the two.

"The Soul Society as it is now can be thought of as a season. And this particular season, this climate has remained so for several centuries. How can nature continue━ how can we continue to progress when the old have yet to be washed away by the currents of time? It defies that of nature, yes?" He directed this question at you specifically, in search of your agreement.

You nodded your head, tearing your gaze away from the branch and directed it at the grass beneath your feet. Your brows furrowed a little as you mused over Aizen's words. He gave a rather ambiguous answer before but now, his words sounded like vague displeasure and muted criticism. Everyone was entitled to their opinion, and on some fronts, you'd sometimes agreed with the 5th Division Captain. The Soul Society was far from perfect, too much emphasis on nobility and status, the government resembled too closely to an oligarchy . . . But you didn't━ wouldn't voice these thoughts, though.

Instead you hummed quietly under your breath. There was that tugging sensation again. This time it told you that there was something deeper to this conversation than meets the eye. But what could there be? Was there anything at all or were you just overthinking it?

The voice-like sensation in your soul was calling out to you, but you couldn't hear it that well or quite make out what it was saying. It's as if someone was calling out to you in a crowded room that had music playing on the speakers: you felt like if you listened hard enough you could make it out but ultimately, the result would fruitless.

"And when that happens," Aizen continued, "sometimes nature has to be gently nudged back on track to keep things moving smoothly. That may require . . . shaking the tree. Pulling a few harmful weeds from one's garden, so to speak."

"Weeds?" You echoed. You felt like you understood this analogy and therefore what he was trying to say, but at the same time you didn't. Or was it . . . . you didn't want to understand what he was implying?

Because if you were interpreting his words correctly, if he were inconspicuously comparing the higher-ups and the government itself to dying leaves and harmful plants that needed to be removed, then . . . .

"You, dear child, are a mere weed in this scenario."

Wait, what did he just━

Your thoughts were cut short when a gush of air that smelt strongly of Aizen━ warm oak, vanilla, and a kind of musk that you weren't sure how to describe but was still pleasant all the same━ brushed against your face and took you by surprise.

But there was another aroma that arose, steadily becoming more apparent alongside the increasingly painful throbbing feeling you felt in your abdomen.

It smelt metallic. And it was something that you've smelt all too many times before.

It was blood.

Your gaze that was initially narrowed in confusion lowered as it followed the source of this pain. Your eyes slowly widened in as you struggled to comprehend the blade that was currently ran through your torso.

Aizen's blade.

"Actually, instead of weeds, a more accurate and befitting analogy perhaps would be blades of grass. You unfortunately have to step on them in order to reach the weeds you want to remove."

You couldn't really focus on what the captain was saying, because your brain was still struggling to process what the hell just happened. Your hands slowly rose from their sides and shakily grazed the zanpakuto, wanting to believe that if you touched it, it would pass right through your fingers like mist. But no, the sensation of cold steel was as real as the robes you wore on your back. You only just now are processing the muffled squelching sound of his sword impaling your flesh.

You wanted to scream, to cry in pain, to vomit, to push him off━ something. But all you could do was stand there, stunned, words completely failing you. "Wh. . . . what? Why did . . . . you . . . . "

A cough replaced your attempt at a comprehensive sentence, and you tasted iron in your mouth.

Fuck....was this really happening?

"Please don't push yourself trying to talk," His voice was like an index finger to one's lips, similar to a parent's gentle caress to quiet and sooth their child, "You'll only hasten your death. And I'm sure you wish to know the reason for my killing you, yes? You'd have to be alive for that."

'Killing me?' 'My death?' The certainty that rang in his words chilled the blood in your veins, and they confirmed the one conclusion you hoped wouldn’t come true: that you were going to die.

The frigid embrace of fear and dread engulfed you from behind and you shivered, causing the blade snugly lodged in your organs to shift. The pain of that foreign object moving even a little bit shot through your entire body, causing a groan to emerge from your throat.

Desperate to conserve your energy and the oxygen that was becoming a little harder to take in, your breathing became uneven and a little wheezed. Even then, you couldn’t bring yourself to meet the gaze of Captain Aizen to confirm if this was really happening or just an extremely realistic and vivid nightmare. The sight you might be greeted with could be more frightening than the actual impaling of his sword.

As if his betrayal couldn’t actually or figuratively cut you any deeper, just then there was a noise that grew louder and louder within a matter of seconds until it was almost deafening. You’ve distinguished it to be the sound of glass crackling.

Your surroundings formed cracks everywhere on its surface, like it was just an oversized window. Even on the grass you stood on, or what you thought was grass, began to crumble away.

A dumbfounded but panicked look was plastered on your face when your world literally shattered around you, the only remnants of it being you and the Captain.

What was underneath the mirage━ or you should say, the fact that it was a mirage at all━ only disturbed you and increased your perplexity.

Slightly hunched over and breathing heavily, it took a minute to process where you were, but you noticed that now the two of you stood in a formal room that looked like it was used for important meetings. The lights in the room slowly started to brighten, most likely due to motion sensors. Even with Aizen's scent lingering in your nose, you could still pick out a rather stale aroma that hung in the air like dead fruit that hadn't fallen off the tree.

"Is . . . this Cen . . . tral━ "

"You are correct. Where we currently stand is the assembly hall for Central 46, the judicial power of the Soul Society. All judiciary as well as legislative trials and proceedings are held here."

All around the room were seats with partitions, the kanji for 1 through 46 printed on them. In the seat for the 19th member, your gaze caught onto something on the translucent barrier. It was a little farther up so you had to squint your already blurring vision to see it properly.

You saw, and your heart promptly sank as a result, eyes widening once more.

There were splatters of a dark colored substance on the partition━ undeniably blood. And the lithe, bony fingers of an older man laid lifeless, peeking out from the side of the screen like the appendages themselves were trying to escape from the body they were attached to.

That man . . . was dead. That stale aroma you smelt was the stench of death.

It was only after that unsettling epiphany did your eyes dart frantically around the room and realize that every member of Central 46 was dead.

The disturbed expression on your face only intensified as your stare was pulled back down to where Aizen's blade still resided in your body.

" Cap.....Aizen," you uttered, swift to correct yourself. All the moisture in your throat dried up like water underneath the unrelenting rays of the sun. You kept gulping your saliva in an attempt to assuage the sensation, but relief only last for a fleeting few seconds. "Did you ━ you killed them . . . didn't you?" Your question was laced with shaky hesitance and swelled with apprehension, fearing that you already knew his reply even before he answered.

There was a moment of silence and a hum before he replied. "Smart girl."

The muted mirthful tone in his voice sounded like sarcasm, and it was enough to finally draw your attention away from everything else and directly look at him. Almost instantly, you regretted it.

His umber tinted gaze was colder than you remembered. You couldn't find anything in his eyes that hinted that all of this was just a big misunderstanding, or a dream, or that Aizen had a secret sense dark and complex humor.

This was your first, and apparently your last time, that you have ever felt a fear such as this. Your mind was struggling to comprehend this was the same Aizen that spoke with you so gently, full of encouragement and wisdom. The same man that recommended you books to read and gifted you tea to drink and gazed upon you like . . .

Well, none of that mattered now. In this moment, Sōsuke Aizen wasn't the same man anymore. This Sōsuke Aizen was someone else, and it frightened you.

"When?" you croaked, your voice no longer sounding like your own. Nothing felt real anymore. "W-When did you . . . . . how? Why?"

Another noncommittal hum resounded from the spectacled man as he closed his eyes, feigning the action of thinking of an answer. When he reopened them, his narrow gaze returned to you.

"Everyone in the Thirteen Court Guard Squads was previously aware that the ability of my zanpakuto, Kyoka Suigetsu, allowed me to confuse the enemy using bodies of water, mist and even moisture in the air in order to attack. However, that is not my zanpakuto's actual power; there is more to it than just simple confusion. Kyoka Suigetsu's true power is Complete Hypnosis. Essentially, when someone looks at my blade, I am then able to take control of that person’s five senses, causing them to believe that something is real ━ or that something isn't real. In a way, once glancing at my unsheathed zanpakuto, that person forfeits their sense of existence to me. Kyoka Suigetsu is quite flawless in its deceptive abilities."

A heavy silence, aside from your uneven breaths, endured in the space between both of you. You didn't need him to spell out what he was trying to say.

It was all . . . . an illusion. A convoluted, premeditated illusion. And you walked right into it without even knowing or considering, that it was all fake.

The Fifth Division Captain inwardly smiled at the despair clearly written on your face as he watched you mentally put the pieces together. He took your lack of reply as a sign to continue. "The members of Central 46 have unfortunately been dead for quite some time now. And as for your question of why......"

The taller man stepped towards you which inadvertently (or purposely, you began to fear), drove his sword deeper into your abdomen without warning and slight force. You bit down on your bottom lip hard to stifle your exclamation of pain. In an attempt to somehow resist him, with the little strength you had left, your hands automatically took purchase in his oversized sleeves, but it did nothing. You found it ironic that you could feel how warm Aizen was underneath his robes, but his soul was anything but.

" . . . . I believe I already mentioned it earlier, yes? All flowers die eventually and the weeds......must be removed."

At that moment you remembered that tugging sensation that told you something felt off in some instances whenever you talked with Aizen. This must have been what it was. Damn it all. You still didn't understand exactly what bad things Central 46 and the Soul Society have done to cause his actions, but based on what you've been told and your current position, it must have been heinous. Again, you actively swallowed the urge to vomit.

"You . . . you lied. I can't believe━ how could it have all b-been a lie?" Another nasty cough rattled your body, followed by a shiver and a groan.

The brown-haired man slightly tilted his head, like he was truly confused. "Lied? Hmm, well. I suppose you could put it that way based on your limited knowledge of the circumstances, but I wouldn't put it that way. Besides, this isn't really about truth or lies. It is, and always has been, only about the reality of what is. And what is, is that you were unable to anticipate my deception. No one could, because it was outside the domain of your thoughts. What is, is that the current way the Soul Society operates is tainted, and I shall be the one to remedy it."

You drew another shuddering breath and looked down at the ground with a grim expression as your blood continued to pool at your feet. Briefly, you even considered unsheathing yourself from his blade and take the chance to make a run for it, but the chances of you making it to the outside world, let alone coming across someone before you bled out and died were slim. Besides, it was clear that you couldn't even trust your own senses anymore after Aizen demonstrated that he had complete control of your reality.

Which reminded you of something else.

" . . . when?" you asked the same question again, but much quieter than before, despair palpable in your voice. 'When and how did you subject me to your zanpakuto's Complete Hypnosis?', is what you were really asking. And being as intelligent as he was, the spectacled man understood.

Abruptly, with a large palm on the small of your back, Aizen used his gentle hold grip to pull you towards him in order to close the remaining distance, causing him to drive the remaining length of his zanpakuto all the way through until the tsuba of his blade rested against your stomach. You looked like a skewered piece of meat.

You didn't have the willpower to hold back the piercing shriek of agony and physical anguish as tears sprung forth from your eyes. You could no longer tell if your blurry vision was due to your tears obstructing your sight or if it was from being a step away from death's door.

"Do you remember . . . the first time we met?"

The hand that rested on your lower back slowly glided upwards until his fingers found your jaw. With a tenderness that reminded you of a time before his betrayal, he lifted your chin and guided your gaze to look at him directly. His thumb moved to graze your bottom lip just as you've done mere hours ago━ as if he knew that, as if he watched you do it. His thumb was dangerously close to slipping inside your mouth and that both excited and scared you. Your breasts against his, your breaths synchronized with his, your body and his were fully pressed against each other and it made focusing on his question more difficult.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The first time . . . we met? Sure, with a little bit of effort you could easily recall the first time you formally met Aizen. It was sometime in the spring, and you remembered him running through combat formations with his lieutenant and the rest of his squad. But why d━

A silent gasp left you. Another epiphany, another figurative blade piercing your heart.

Battle formations, and he . . . offered you to join them . . . his zanpakuto . . . . .

Confusion crumbled away, and was replaced with vacant horror and sadness. It seems you've already been defeated, for many, many years now.

Aizen seemed to murmur something under his breath, a pleased sound you couldn't quite decipher. His mouth brushed over yours, rendering you literally speechless, before he closed the distance and brought your lips together. You could barely process what was happening.

It was ironically tragic how soft and skillfully gentle his lips were against yours. The kiss felt longing, like a departure between two sweethearts and their last meeting together. It also felt heavy and final, making you want to cry.

And you did. Silent tears streamed from your eyes and rolled onto the fingers that still held your face so affectionately. The captain reacted by guiding your chin up a little further, dipping his head a little lower, so he could deepen the kiss. You weakly scorned yourself for thinking about how the two of you must really look like lovers now, sans the sword sticking out from your back.

Oh, how cruel this was; how cruel he was. It was cruel for him to kiss you like this, hand still splayed on your back like he needed to touch you stay sane. And how cruel it was that still managed to enjoy it, even as you stood there dying. Your lips moved together in tandem, slow and almost passionate, all while tears stained the apples of your cheeks, drying up the plush youth that once resided in them.

Aizen's tongue had slithered its way into your mouth, and you suddenly felt like crying harder. There was a tart, sweet flavor lingering on his tastebuds, and you absently wondered what is was. Perhaps hibiscus from tea, you surmised. And he too tasted the sweet jasmine and citrus that clung your tongue and lips. At this, he chuckled quietly into your mouth, humming before retracting from you by a few inches so he could speak.

"I knew you would like the tea. It's sweet and flavorful, isn't it?" You hated how low his voice was, how its timbre pleasurably vibrated and rumbled against your lips, and you hated that lidded stare he gave you. You again thought it unfair that you couldn't even revel in the rare sight of Aizen's lips slightly wet because your lips were intertwined with his.

"I have to thank you for humoring me and my recommendations. I really appreciated it. And I also," you winced loudly and cried out in affliction as Aizen finally began to withdraw the sword from your body, "must to bid you farewell now. It seems you don't have any more time left, and this has dragged on for longer than it needed. I'm not surprised you've held out for this long, as I already knew you possessed commendable strength. But alas it wasn't enough. I am sorry that you have to die; it's rather regrettable that you happened to be that blade of grass that ended up underneath my foot."

Another wail was yanked from your chest as he steadily removed his sword from your abdomen. The pain was becoming excruciating, you would have collapsed by now if the taller man weren't holding you.

You saw two things before the light in your eyes had all but faded away. The first were the colors of faux pity and apathy that swirled in Sōsuke Aizen's irises, spiraling like a storm that was certain to wreak havoc in its wake. His gaze was devoid of any regret or remorse; the final metaphorical nail on the coffin. The second was a small smile.

But this wasn't one of his smiles you were familiar with. No wait . . . . the one you knew was simply a veneer of what is.

This smile was slanted, the corners of his lips tilted upwards and was sharp. Sharp enough to cut open your already gaping wound further and completely tear you apart, spelling out your demise. It looked insidious as if it were hiding razor-edged fangs. This was what is; Aizen's real smile.

"I. . . I see. Aize. . . ." were the last words you were able to manage. You didn't have the strength to be upset or hurt any longer, so you gave in to the exhaustion.

Your body permanently relaxed, long lashes veiling your now empty eyes as your arms lifelessly dropped to your sides. The captain found a disturbing amount of pleasure in his name being the final word you attempted to speak before succumbing to the sleep of death.

And even after the fact, the facade of doomed, star-crossed lovers persisted as your body slumped backwards. Aizen's strong forearm wrapped tightly around your waist being the only reason you didn't fall to the ground in a puddle of your own blood.

That day was the last anyone saw of you, your zanpakuto still laid idly in your room, its spirit destined to forever wander in the afterlife between worlds alone, eventually fading from existence without ever feeling the presence of its master again.

They had declared you missing by the end of the next day. Lieutenant Hisagi was probably the most perturbed about your sudden disappearance. Days, weeks passed, and they never located you. The Gotei 13 was left unsettled by the lack of progress, but ultimately had to rule your case inconclusive. Some believed that you were simply killed by a stray hollow, or even ran away from your duties because of the stress.

The news of what happened spread like wildfire across all the squads, that a high-ranked officer just up and vanished without a trace. The spirits and morale of the thirteen companies dampened, sorrow and worry swelling like a festering boil.

And that boil burst when Ryoka infiltrated the Soul Society, and when it was revealed that all of it was carefully orchestrated by Sōsuke Aizen.

Like a blade of grass that somehow snuck into one's sandals or in between their toes, during his time in Hueco Mundo, images of you flashed in his head at unexpected times when his mind was quiet. He'd remove the grass, tossed you aside, and moved on with his day. There was no room for you in the grand scheme of things. Such reminisces were beneath someone like him.

And yet.

He'd always find another piece of grass from the greenery he stepped on whenever he advanced a step in his plans. There you were again.

It was common knowledge that if you kept repeating the same action over and over, it will eventually wear you down.

━━━━━━ 鏡  ━━━━━━━

It was dark, and there was nothing.

There had been nothing for quite a long time now. Utter darkness and the abyssal shade of black engulfed every inch of Aizen's body and surroundings.

He saw nothing, the seals over his eyes too opaque to let anything through. And even if they weren't obscuring his vision, he would barely be able to see three feet in front of him; there was seldom a few lanterns in his cell to begin with. He felt nothing but the bindings that kept him imprisoned in one of the deepest pits of the Seireitei. At times it felt like even his internal organs had stilled in their functions. He heard nothing but the unrelenting quiet of his cell within Mugen's maw. The only thing that served as proof that he hasn't spontaneously grown deaf yet was the occasional muffled noise that originated from outside of the entrance. And even then, he could hardly hear much of anything.

Such is an ironic fate for someone who, with a stray thought and a glint of his blade, could control someone's senses and take away their free will to experience those senses in their reality. And now, he was stripped away of all of his in nearly every capacity.

Sōsuke Aizen was rendered stationary and stagnant, qualities he detested and were the antithesis of his ambitions and plans, perhaps even his existence.

Aizen had always believed in being in control of your own destiny and making your own choices; if you had the opportunity and the power to change something━ especially if it was something that was wrong, unfair or immoral━ then one should be able to move towards that goal by making change, even if by force. The former captain had always been intentional about his actions and his desires right from the start.

And yet, here he ended up.

Spending years strapped to a chair in this dark, cloistered hole, Aizen had nothing but time to reflect the reason for his arrest: that orange haired Ryoka boy, Ichigo Kurosaki. He had nothing but time to admit to himself and settle on the conclusion that his last battle with the substitute Shinigami . . . did something to him.

Fighting the Ryoka boy ignited something inside him that he previously believed would forever lay dormant.

The thrill of a challenge.

Adrenaline was injected into his veins with each clash of their swords, spreading far and wide across every inch of his body. It no longer reacted in the measured, calculative manner he had programmed it to, but with unadulterated, pure instinct and raw power━ all in an effort to not only withstand such potent spirit energy from his opponent, but to come out on top and win.

It made him feel alive.

Aizen's desire to be the victor in battle and in his philosophy━ to prove himself right━ both fueled him and consumed him so thoroughly it led to his own downfall. That was a rather difficult fact to acknowledge; so much so his head started to pulsate intensely whenever it crossed his mind one time too often.

All of it unfolded right in front of his eyes and yet . . . he didn't really see it happen.

As time passed during his perpetual incarceration, with hooded eyes, the former captain spent an unfathomable amount of time tossing and turning every single event that led him to this underground prison, even pondering his temporary release by the Head Captain Kyōraku to fight in the war. Scenarios both minor and significant displayed itself in front of his mind's eye as if he were watching a film.

Every so often, a blurred visage of your image would make a brief appearance, like the flickering sparks of a match before they were able to come to light, fading away into the void and were overshadowed by his other thoughts. It was as if his own consciousness and intentionally muted any manifestations of your existence in his memories. As if he wasn't able to or allowed to see them━ to remember you for too long.

Mentally reliving moments from the last several months, years, decades, centuries━ trying to analyze each moment and decipher where it could have went wrong━ turned out to be quite an exhausting task. His mind and body would grow heavier with inertia, and eventually he would succumb to the alluring pull of slumber. After some time he would rouse from his sleep, and continued from where he left off.

These were his daily activities day in and day out (even though he had trouble distinguishing day and night in his chambers) for years. He saw a positive side to it though. He'd instead think of it has him getting stronger because he had spent so long . . . thinking. Ruminating. Contemplating every possibility in the past, present, and future. His mind would become as sharp as his zanpakuto.

Aizen had always been intentional about what he did, what he said, and how he conducted himself. He was sure in his abilities to orchestrate an image━ a belief for others to have faith in, and act on it in order to further his goals. He was always sure in that image, knowing who he was and what he stood for.

Or at least, that's what he thought.

Aizen wasn't consciously aware that his certainty in this crafted image had already begun to waver. He could not and was unable to anticipate how severe these small fractures had become until after a certain lieutenant paid him a visit outside his cell of confinement, right before he was scheduled to be thrown back into that dark hole of the Mugen.

Lieutenant Shuhei Hisagi was quite emotive when he burst through the doors. His expressions were contorted in volatile mixture of frustration, anger and sadness. His emotions were every which way, directed at everything that has happened so far, including himself. He was especially emotive at Aizen specifically for what he did to former captain Kaname Tosen and 'corrupting him with his twisted ideals.'

Aizen found amusement in that.

Before he was rolled away by the punishment force and therefore out of earshot, a particular set of Hisagi's words caused the small, content smile on his lips to uncurl ever so slightly. "Everything . . . and everyone that has ever gotten themselves involved with you has been trampled on by you and your ideals one way or another, and they all end up dead. If you think what you did to Captain Tosen was justified━ to call it mercy . . . . . then there is truly no justice in this world. You will . . . forever be the enemy in my eyes."

There was a trembling anger in his voice. Pain that wanted to cry out and be set free but, the thin lid of reason prevented it from doing so. And after a moment of silence, the corners of Aizen's lips curved upwards once more. A little bemused, a little more wolfish this time. He maliciously imagined Hisagi's reaction if he ever discovered the true reason for your disappearance.

But instead, all he said was. "What an interesting thing to say, Shuhei Hisagi. Your conviction is admirable." Any evidence of emotion that might have been reflected in his sepia irises was swallowed up and obscured by the darkness of the Mugen's jaw.

The cracks in Aizen's sense of self, in his beliefs, in the image he invented started to cave under the weight of Hisagi's words before he himself realized it was happening. They were like stains in the fabric of his mind that refused to come out.

What puzzled him more, was that with each attempt to figure out just why Hisagi's words echoed in his mind, they all lead back to you, the third seat of the 9th squad. Annoyingly so.

The tattooed lieutenant hadn’t said anything particularly profound ━ at least, Aizen didn't think so. Your name didn’t even fall from his lips. So why were memories of you and your likeness the only clear thoughts he could make of Hisagi's speech? Was it because he was aware of how close the two of you were? He doubted the reason were that trivial and insignificant.

His thoughts grew more discordant by the day, his soul a little more weighted than usual. Perhaps these new seals that Urahara had fashioned actually had an effect on him, Aizen thought. It made sense. His intellect, other than his own, were the only ones capable of creating such effective restraints.

After a while, he had a revelation. This was a different kind of weight.

This heaviness, the closest word he knew to describe it as . . . . was loneliness.

Time taunted him as it seemed to drag on━ Aizen grew even less sure of how much━ when he came to this realization. Hisagi's words were a clear mirror to the loneliness that echoed within him after what happened to you and to Tosen. It was so . . . potent, that it seemed to strike some chord in Aizen he had never heard before.

Such a chord, this sound of loneliness, it was strange and uncomfortable; he wasn't very fond of this sensation. He'd try to scrub it away, but it was all for naught.

His eyes had slid shut at some point, his ruminations leading to dead ends and wearing him down. And, almost as expected, there you were again, in all your translucent glory. The hem, the sleeves, and even the smell of your yukata slowly dragged across his dreams, haunting his thoughts like a lonely wraith.

And Aizen hardly dreamt of anything.

When he regained consciousness he was plagued with yet another epiphany. An additional reason behind this newfound depth.

Aizen's own loneliness. Guilt. Much to his own quiet horror.

How foreign and unusual a thing like guilt is. It was like looking into a mirror and not recognizing something you had never noticed before, but wondered if it had always been there.

But the thing Aizen did recognize, how lonely he actually felt, was something he had hoped would never resurface again. It was a notion he hadn't had the time or regard to consider━ 'loneliness'. Its only purpose, if any, was solely to serve as a motivator. At times though, it was more like a hindrance.

Something akin to nausea slowly started to bubble up in the pit of his stomach, but he suppressed the sensation before it became any more intense.

What of his previous actions did he need to feel guilty for? He hadn't felt it then, so why would he feel it now? Again he ruminated such a question endlessly into oblivion.

The former captain had no doubts that his plan to remove the Soul King, and therefore the Soul Society's sins, were necessary.

Nor did any hesitancy about removing the opposition or dead weight━ whether shinigami or arrancar━ existed.

He certainly had no reservations against killing Kaname Tosen, for he knew the man well enough to know that Tosen would have been so thoroughly appalled with what he had become, it would have drove him mad.

So what was it, then? Why were such useless emotions as guilt and loneliness being amplified n━

"Y....know, S....."

Even covered by the seals, Aizen's eyes widened and his brows were slightly furrowed in distress. Had his mind finally tipped the scales of sanity and madness, to the point where he was hearing things?

It was quiet for several moments longer, before his senses caught onto the sound of water dripping onto a hard surface.

One drop at a time.

Its cadence a little too rhythmic to be natural. And for a second time, he heard that soft, ominous sounding whisper. Its voice a little clearer this time.

"You...know.....Sōsuke."

In the second it took for his eyes to flutter shut behind its seals to blink, when he reopened them, he was no longer sealed to the walls and floors of the Mugen, nor was he surrounded by every shade of darkness imaginable. His limbs and senses were finally freed to breathe for the first time in what felt like ages.

That relief was short-lived when his senses absorbed the unending landscape of water underneath his feet, water lilies lifelessly floating on its surface, and the dim sky illuminated by a full pale moon.

Aizen was in his inner world, and now he was aware of how he got here, or rather who brought him here.

"You . . . already know the answer to that question, Sōsuke." The voice was even more clear, its sentences more comprehensible. And it sounded it eerily like you.

Why the voice was impersonating your likeness had caught him off guard for half a second, but he realized it was only the work of his zanpakuto, Kyoka Suigetsu.

An illusion it may be, there was an untouchable quality about your voice and how you spoke that even Kyoka Suigetsu couldn't replicate.

A few feet away from him, the water was disturbed by a being emerging from the depths. Ripples formed around a manifested version of his zanpakuto, who took the form of you, smiling ever so gently. The smile felt airy, and it didn't seem like the same one that haunted his dreams and every waking thought as of late. It felt....knowing.

Still, the former captain couldn't be bothered to maintain eye contact with his sword spirit, so he turned around and opted to keep his unreadable stare trained on the vast expanse of water and white lilies.

"It's been quite a while since I have stepped foot into this realm. There must be something you want . . . Kyoka."

The zanpakuto chuckled, it sounded like the way you would softly laugh at one of his clever quips. But this wasn't you.

He didn’t want to admit that something about that fact didn’t sit right with him.

"Judging from your tone, would I be correct in assuming you don't want to be here?"

Silence rang out within the soul scape, before Aizen interrupted it, his gentle voice colored a shade darker, and a little rigid. "And I fail to see the reason why you must take that form when you revealed yourself to me. Is your aim to get a reaction out of me? Or something along those lines?"

Your eyes━ the eyes of Kyoka Suigetsu━ narrowed at its master's back, as if they were trying to create concavities in his skull. But the expression was washed away the moment it appeared, the serene smile from before was back in place.

"You know . . . it's considered quite rude to not look at someone when you're addressing them. That, and when you deliberately ignore things they say. Your manners have been deteriorating, Sōsuke. Tsk, tsk."

Kyoka-dressed-as-you suddenly appeared before him, as if they had teleported. Even when they were in his peripheral vision, Aizen still maintained his stare off into the distant nothingness.

"Unless, you can't find it in yourself to look at me. . . that's correct, isn't it? It's because I look exactly like her, right?" The zanpakuto continued to provoke him, taking a step closer into his personal space.

With an exasperated sigh, his eyelids fell shut for a second, using that time to gather the strength he didn't know he needed, and directed his gaze to meet his spirit's. Aizen's face gave nothing away, but his heart lurched about his chest when his bronze eyes met with yours, or what was made to look like yours. The undesired affect it had on him was all the same.

"If you wish to chastise me about manners, I suggest you take your own advice. You didn't answer my first question, either: what is it you want? Why am I here?" Again the former captain chose to not address the other parts of Kyoka's statement. For the sake of his sanity and his thinning patience━ or was it to preserve his resolve?

Its smile widened a bit, moving another step closer to their master. God, Kyoka even smelled like you, mimicking your signature honeyed scent that Aizen didn't realize he found so intoxicating until this very moment.

"I called you here to save you from yourself."

Aizen remained silent, only narrowing his eyes in speculation. "Meaning?"

"Didn't I already say it earlier? I think you already know what I'm talking about, Sōsuke. You've always known."

Fate's pairing of Kyoka Suigetsu with Aizen was a match crafted from the spindles of heaven, but also a maddening curse pulled from the depths of hell, for they complimented each other a little too well. The zanpakuto was too perfect a reflection of Aizen and his soul, looking at it started to hurt his eyes.

His sword spirit insisted that he already knew the reason for his coming here, and perhaps he did have an inkling the moment the light of epiphany was shone on his profound loneliness and guilt. But that couldn't have been what it was referring to . . . . could it?

"You cannot feign ignorance here, my dear Sōsuke, however I do find it rather humorous you bother trying. If you'd like, I don't mind humoring you by spelling it out for you. I'd be glad to unearth the truth that you have buried in the most neglected corner of your heart."

"When you were . . . . subjecting yourself to such mental torment, it had an affect on this world as well. The ripples, the waves in this scape become quite . . . tumultuous." The nuances in your voice were perfected by his zanpakuto, but the way it talked sounded like a fog that was gradually closing in from over the horizon. The uneasy feeling that resided in his chest traveled down to his stomach, but Aizen's face remained steely, even when Kyoka Suigetsu took that final step to close the gap in between them. "And the reason for that, the reason why Hisagi's words rattled you so is because you regret killing that woman."

The creased line in Aizen's brow grew more prominent as he stared down his sentient sword spirit. With its breast pressed against his, they placed a hand on his clothed chest in a tantalizing manner, but he felt nothing. There was no warmth from its palm, much unlike when your hand touched him. There wasn't even a cool sensation either. Even minutes before your death, your touch brought a soothing heat that permeated through his shihakusho and penetrated his skin.

Kyoka's face grew nearer, their smile━ although still tender looking━ grew cold at its edges, nearly resembling that of a predator eager to see despair reflected in the eyes of its prey. It didn't fit the graceful allure of your face at all, and seeing this expression deeply unsettled the former captain more than he would like to admit.

"You regret . . . killing me."

A chill tore through Aizen's body, the weight of Kyoka's words adding onto the heaviness that still hasn't been alleviated from his heart; he was hardly able to suppress the involuntary shiver.

Without warning, Kyoka's mouth suddenly became dangerously close to their master's, its lips brushing against his in a provocative manner. Aizen's expression darkened when he realized that it was reenacting his last encounter with you when you were alive. His mouth started to grow uncomfortably dry, despite his soul scape being full of moisture, and there was a taste on the back of his tongue that's been lingering there since he arrived.

The lilt in Kyoka's tone continued to taunt him. "That is the reason for your guilt: regret. You have been in denial. And in the spirit of unearthing truths, I suppose I can admit that perhaps . . . . I've been . . . . encouraging said delusions, adding drops of fuel into the flames of your emotions and ambitions. But after all that's happened, when it comes down to it there's no point in continuing this hallucination any longer. I've grown tired of this game, so it's time to for you wake up now, Sōsuke. I've brought you here to release you from your own illusion, to completely shatter it."

Aizen's back was as stiff as a board, not moving a millimeter when Kyoka's lips grazed his again. They were breathing softly onto his mouth, but he hardly felt any puffs of air.

The former captain was having a rather difficult time processing the fact that his zanpakuto had its own agenda and had been manipulating his emotions without him noticing. Specifically the emotions he felt towards you.

He never truly believed that such a thing was possible, one's own blade having such a deep-rooted influence━ no, control over their master. Or would it be more accurate to say that he never expected himself to be controlled to such a degree? He that prided himself on being freed from the marionette strings of fate that were tied to his limbs and mind, he that relished being able to do what he wanted, think what he wanted, feel what he wanted━ or what he didn't want━ it was hard to believe that none of that mattered in the end.

Kyoka Suigetsu's deceptive abilities were indeed undeniably perfect. No one, not even Aizen himself could have anticipated that Kyoka's most absolute and complete hypnosis would be enacted on himself.

"Do you know now, Sōsuke? Do you understand?" Kyoka's voice was as soft as a whisper, but it couldn't hide the edges of its tone that were still sharpened from finding amusement of seeing the truth flash across its master's face. "You had destroyed the solution to your existential question of loneliness, before you could fully understand the question itself."

Yes . . . . . Aizen understood now.

He didn't bother acknowledging what Kyoka had said. His grim facial expression━ still, tinged with dolor, and paired with an indescribable, distant look his eyes━ said all that it needed to. His silence was as much as an admission as any.

Kyoka-dressed-as-you leaned forward again to fully close the gap between their lips and Aizen's. Tenderly, like the intentions of a lover, it spoke against his nearly closed mouth. "Have you figured it out yet?"

Nothing but quiet could be heard between them, as Kyoka's mouth moved about their master's face and placed something like kisses upon its surface, but not quite.

Aizen's cocoa-shaded eyes slide down to stare at his sword spirit pressed up against him. His gaze was hard, and yet something swam underneath its surface that his zanpakuto had never seen before. Melancholy, it guessed? They weren't quite sure.

Kyoka pressed on when Aizen remained quiet. "The taste in the back of your mouth. Have you figured out what it was? You know it quite well....."

Aizen's tongue grazed the roof of his mouth, sensing the rather unpleasant taste that has coated the inside of it. And within a moment, because he was faced with the current circumstances, Aizen had finally placed a name associated this particular taste. How unfortunate this was.

Upon his realization, Aizen's head lowered, and his brown tresses hung freely over his lashes. Perhaps it was so Kyoka couldn't properly see whatever remorseful expression painted their master's face, but it mattered not. Even from here, the sword spirit could already sense exactly what it was he was feeling.

And they loved it.

"It's a sweet and flavorful taste, isn't it? Quite lovely." Kyoka Suigetsu mimicked the exact words he uttered against your lips all those years ago when he tasted jasmine tea on your tongue, and sealed your death with a kiss. "It's too bad you don't seem to enjoy it anymore."

Aizen's chest continued to rise and fall calmly, and the hands of his sword spirit that rested there glided upwards to cup his strong jaw, caressing his skin with its thumb. Its phantasmic touch did nothing to stir their master.

"Sōsuke, do you know what the jasmine flower from that tea symbolizes?"

Aizen's lips were slightly parted, but again he didn't say anything. Instead, its corners twitched and lifted upwards by an inch, and he huffed softly.

Kyoka Suigetsu grinned in reply. "Good."

The next time Aizen blinked, he was plunged in darkness yet again. The restrictive feeling that swallowed his being whole had returned, and was an indicator that his zanpakuto had released him from his inner world. He was consciously back in the Mugen, back in this abyss they called a prison cell.

Kyoka was indeed as much as a formidable force in its own right, as much as, if not greater than Aizen himself.

The conversation he had with his sword spirit would be cemented in his head for all eternity. When he grew senile and began to physically wither away, the one thing that would remain vital like a young heart, was this epiphany that he had. This realization that he actually . . . .

As the chains of despair bound him tighter to the bottom of the metaphorical pit, regret and his loneliness corroding his flesh and spirit like metal exposed to moisture, a stray memory of his time in Hueco Mundo flashed in his mind. He recalled having tea prepared for meetings with his Espadas and he could not pinpoint when, but at some point, Aizen developed an aversion for jasmine flavored tea. For one reason or another, he no longer found its taste appealing; whenever he drank it, it always tasted bitter.

Now that reason had become painstakingly clear.

The binding on his mouth muffled a rueful chuckle at the though, and it trapped the flavor of jasmine on his lips.

(#) @soaringmirror @stygianoir @ryukenzz @blkjupiters @chrissie2003 @nymphoheretic @dejwrld @triangularz @souyaszn @kuujo @honeybleed @valentineluvu . let me know if you’d like to be apart of my tag list ♡♡.

[flemingsfreckles]

Not Just a Teammate

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Preview: Jessie takes you home for the holidays to meet her parents, she just left out a few details when telling them you were coming home.

Warnings: a little angsty, some cursing

WC: 4.0k

A/N: I needed a break from trying to write the two other multipart series I have, so I wrote this. I’m probably going to be putting out more short single fic stories to keep from getting writers block on my other work. If you have any suggestions/ requests I’d be happy to hear them, sent them my way :)

“I need to tell you something and you have to promise not to be mad at me.” Your girlfriend of nearly a year whispered into your ear as you stood at the airport waiting for your bags to be unloaded from the plane. You turned around to see her looking at you, a nervous look across her face. She was biting her lower lip, her hand playing with drawstrings of her hoodie.

“You can’t just ask me to not be mad at you before I know what you did.” It wasn’t often that Jessie made you even upset let alone mad, so the fact that she was prefacing what she was about to say had you on edge.

“I didn’t do anything. It’s more what I didn’t do.” She says, looking up at you.

“Quit dragging this out, just tell me.” You were already a little overwhelmed from the long travel day you both had, her beating around the bush was pushing your nerves.

“Remember when you asked me if I had talked to my parents about you coming home with me?”

“Jessie!” You scold her, drawing a couple of looks from the people around you, lowering your voice as you continue “You didn’t tell them I was coming? Seriously?”

“No, no I did, they know you’re coming,” she pauses, you can tell there’s more to that sentence than she’s saying.

“Then what?” Now you were annoyed, you were about to be an unexpected guest at your girlfriend's parents house.

“It’s just, they called you my teammate when I called them to see if you could come home and I never corrected them.” Her sentence comes out rushed. Your eyes fly open, your girlfriend’s parents, who you were expecting to meet in less than an hour, didn’t know you were their daughter’s girlfriend.

“Your parents think I’m just your teammate? Are you fucking kidding me? Jessie Alexandra what the hell?” The volume of your voice raised again, not caring if people around you could hear, Jessie deserved to be scolded for this. Jessie throws her hands up in surrender..

“I know, I know. I was going to tell them, but I just got so nervous every time I couldn’t do it. They don’t even know that I date women, well just one woman now, singular, you.” She points at you. For a split second you forget how upset you are at her, seeing how nervous and shy she got talking about dating you.

“So your parents just think you’re bringing home a teammate for the holidays?” She just shrugs at you.

“Oh my god Jessie.” You move away from her, taking a few steps away. “I’m going to have to lie this whole trip, do you realize how fucked up that is? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I would’ve made an excuse not to come.” You were so mad. You had asked Jessie a couple weeks back if she had asked her parents abo it you coming home. She had told you she talked with them, you had assumed that meant she fully told them, that she was bringing home her girlfriend, not just a teammate. Maybe you should’ve been more specific when asking.

“No, no of course not.” She reaches a hand out toward you but you pull back out of her reach. “I’m going to talk to them tonight. I promise.”

She holds out her pinky to you, it may seem childish, the two of you interlocking pinkies in the airport, but it had always been a thing the two of you did, a promise was a promise. You hesitate, so annoyed that she had put you in this situation. She gives you a pleading stare, her big brown eyes a special soft spot for you, you hold your pinky out to hers.

“Until you tell them, don't expect me to act like your girlfriend though.” The words leave your mouth and you see the change in Jessie’s face from guilty to upset. You stand in silence, both of you watching the bag carousel, beginning to think that everyone bag from the plane except your own had come out. You watch as Jessie puts the tip of her thumb between her teeth, biting her nail, a nervous habit of hers. Normally you would pull her hand away, giving it a loving squeeze, or politely telling her to stop. Instead, since you weren't her girlfriend at the moment, you don't, a teammate wouldn't scold her habits.

“Does that mean we’re sleeping in different beds?” The thought of all the tiny aspects that come with being a friend instead of a girlfriend start crossing your mind. You speak up but don’t turn to look at her. As a teammate and a friend, her parents probably weren’t expecting you to share a bed, you'd have to sleep alone until she sorted this out with them.

“I don’t know, they didn’t mention sleeping arrangements to me. I’m sure they’ll have the guest room made up for you. To be fair, they might kick you out of my bedroom once they know we’re together.” Jessie tries to make a joke to you, but not in the mood for her antics, you take it seriously.

“You’re 26, not 16 and we’re both girls, what do they think is going to happen?”

“It’s probably more that they don’t want to hear what might happen. And last time I checked, someone can get a little loud.” when you just look at her, not giving in to her attempt at humor with you a frown comes to her face. “I was joking babe, they have let my sibling’s partners spend the night in their rooms.”

“Don’t ‘babe’ me.” You glare at her, you were being overly mean and you knew it, but you couldn’t help it. Jessie had been so excited to invite you home for the holidays and you had been excited to go, but you were excited to go as her girlfriend, not her teammate.

The fact that she hadn't told them was causing a small part of you to be insecure. Maybe she didn't think you were good enough to bring home as a partner, maybe she didn't want to introduce you to her life in Canada. Maybe she was planning on ending your relationship and this would be the perfect start. You had never questioned your relationship with Jessie before, you felt unsettled knowing you were suddenly having these thoughts.

Jessie moves forward to the belt and she grabs off your bag, sliding it toward you before she grabs the one with her own tag on it. You were too lost in your thoughts to see the bags come on the belt. Normally you'd take Jessie’s bag for her, one of many simple chivalrous things you had incorporated into your life with her, but not today, you grabbed your own and turned to find the exit.

Standing outside, you waited for Jessie’s parents to pick you both up. Jessie waves in the direction of a car that soon pulls over and Jessie’s mom nearly comes jumping out of the passenger seat while it is still moving, making a b-line for her daughter. She pulls her into a hard hug.

“My baby is home.” You hear her say as she rocks Jessie side to side slightly.

“Hi Mom.” Jessie is laughing at her Mom’s behavior. Jessie’s dad is now standing behind his wife, waiting for his turn to say hello to his daughter. Jessie’s mom picks her head up, her eye catches yours.

“Hi, sorry I didnt mean to ignore you.” She moves out of Jessie’s arms and comes over to you arms open. You give her a quick hug and smile.

“I get it, she’s your daughter.” You wave off her Mom’s apology.

“It’s very nice to meet you.” Her parents maybe didn't know they were meeting their daughter's girlfriend but you were still overly aware that this was your first time meeting your girlfriend’s parents. Meeting the parents was a big deal, especially when Jessie was as close with her family as she was.

You hear Jessie start to introduce you to her parents, she says your name and then pauses, “She’s my,” For a second you're relieved, she was going to get the introduction over with now, she was going to correct her mistake.

“um, my, she’s, we play together and she's one of my favorite people.” She smiles in your direction. You shoot her back a smile that to her parents looks normal, they don't know any different. Jessie however, could tell your smile was fake, one that was hiding annoyance.

You all climb in the car, her parents asking questions about your flight, about both of your lives, asking how the season was treating both of you. The ride wasn't too long and you were soon pulling up a long driveway to a beautiful house, hidden back from the roadway, surrounded by huge trees.

Standing in the driveway are both of Jessie’s siblings, they both come to either side of the car, Jessie’s sister to her side, her brother to your side. They greet you and offer to take your bags.

Her brother and mom walk you around the house, giving you the tour as Jessie says hello to her family’s dogs. You see Jessie’s room, you’d seen photos of her bedroom as a child, it was more sophisticated now, less posters on the wall, less toys and clutter, but it still was very much her childhood bedroom. They showed you her siblings rooms, the kitchen, family room, and finally the guest room. Jessie was right, they had made it up for you to stay. You appreciate the fact that they had set up the room for you but you really wanted to spend the night cuddling up with Jessie, not a floor below her in a different bed. Maybe a night apart would be good, maybe it would make Jessie remember how she doesn’t sleep well without you being next to her. Maybe it’ll encourage her to tell the truth.

Jessie’s dad calls down the hall that dinner is ready and you all make your way back into the kitchen.

“Jessie said you weren’t picky, but we made a couple things since she is.” Jessie’s older brother says to you, poking fun at his sister.

“This all looks great, thank you.” You look between all her family members not sure who did the cooking. Everyone makes their plate, you let Jessie and her parents go first, silently distancing yourself from her. They head to the dining room as you start to make your plate.

As you make your way into the dining room followed by Jessie's siblings Jessie is already sitting at the table with her parents, you pick up on the conversation as you enter the room.

“Yeah no, she's great isn't she. Actually we’re um,” you hear her begin to stumble over her words again. “She and I are going to be roommates for the travel season this year.” You're not even sure why you continued to get your hopes up, she clearly was struggling getting out the words that she was your girlfriend and you were hers. Jessie sends you an apologetic look as you sit down across the table from her. You continue dinner, it feels uncomfortable to you and Jessie, but to the rest of the table it was normal, no one knew of the underlying tension between the two of you.

After dinner you all sit down playing card and board games. After a couple rounds of Jessie’s brother winning Uno, you all move to the couches just relaxing. Jessie's mom had grabbed a scrapbook off the shelf and was shamelessly showing you all the baby photos of Jessie, ones of her playing soccer, running, playing in the yard, holding a hockey stick, all the small moments of her childhood. You badly want to gush over the photos as a girlfriend, but you kept it reserved, not mentioning the thoughts of how cute your kids would be some day if they looked like her.

“I’ll be right back, going to let the dog outside.” Jessie says, her voice sounds different, you can't pinpoint why. Once you finish looking through the scrapbook, Jessie’s parents ask if you need anything before they head up to bed. You decline and thank them for the dinner and hospitality.

As Jessie’s parents head upstairs to their bedroom, you realize that you were going to have to wait until tomorrow for Jessie to tell them. She had broken the pinky promise you had made in the airport. Finding it odd that Jessie hadn’t come back in a few minutes, you stand up to look for her. You see her standing outside on the deck off of the kitchen.

You open the glass door, Jessie is standing, forearms resting against the fencing of the deck, head in her hands.

“Just so you know, if you're not planning to keep the pinky promise you made me, that's going to be a problem, and I’ll be happy to sleep in the guest room. I trust you when we do that.” She doesn't say anything back to you, you notice a slight shake to her shoulders as you watch her back. You walk up to her, standing close enough that your shoulder grazed against hers. She pulled her head up from her hands, she had tears trailing down her cheeks. The image of her bringing herself to tears trying to make you happy by telling her parents, immediately took away the built up anger you were harboring toward her.

“Oh Jess.” You let your thumb swipe the tears from her face.

“I’m trying.” She gets out words between gasps for air. “I am, I just, it's like I can't breathe when I go to say it. What if they hate me for it? What if I’m not their daughter anymore?” More tears ran down her face. Your heart felt like it shattered watching her cry, having those thoughts run through her brain.

You couldn't imagine how she had felt. Your parents knew you were going to date women since you were little and came home gushing over other girls, not thinking there was something different about that, they hadn't cared and you didn't need to go through any coming out process with them. Your privilege in that was becoming very clear to you at the moment. You couldn't imagine having to do this at 26.

“Jessie, look at me.” Her eyes meet yours. “I love you. I can’t stand here and tell you I know how you're feeling because honestly I don't, I never came out to my parents. I am here though, I want to help you with this. I want you to feel comfortable telling them.” You wish you could take away her fears, give them to yourself, let her have the easy experience.

“I’m really sorry I’ve been pretty shitty to you since I found out they didn’t know. That wasn't fair of me to do. I got nervous thinking you maybe didn’t want them to meet me as your partner, that maybe you were ashamed of me or something, I got in my own head and got upset. I shouldn’t have been pushing you to come out to anyone.”

“It's okay, it wasn't fair of me to not tell them. I really do want them to know how much I love you.” She shivers against your body. The sun's disappearance had made it much colder outside. You take the jacket you had on off, draping it over her shoulders.

“I’ll be inside if you want to talk or anything, I’m not mad anymore, I was, but it wasn’t right for me to be angry. I hope you know that.” You turn back to the house, leaving her to continue thinking, you knew she needed the space to sort herself out, you couldn’t stay there hovering, it wouldn't help her.

You open the door and look back at Jessie one more time. Her shoulders are not shaking anymore, you can see her breath in the cold air. You step inside and close the door behind you.

“You're not just teammates are you?” You are startled by the voice of Jessie’s sister, she's standing in the kitchen, glass of water in her hand.

“What?” you heard her but not sure what to respond, thats the only word that comes out of your mouth.

“You and Jess. You’re together, right?” She glances in the direction of where her older sister still stood outside.

“I mean, I’ve seen Jessie around plenty of her teammates, she doesn't look at any of them the way she looks at you. She’s also never brought one home for the holidays before. Not to mention, she never shuts up about you when I call her. She finds every opportunity to talk about you. She talks about you like you are the sun. I think you are the sun to her.”

“She’s the sun to me, she's everything.” Accidentally giving her sister the answer. “I probably should have waited and let her tell you.”

“She already came out to me, I just didn’t know about you. I think she's been indirectly trying to tell me for months, she just gets nervous, she gets in her own head about stuff like that and ends up working herself up and then panics.”

“I know.” A silence falls between the two of you, just the sound of the clock ticking in the background.

“Is she okay? I didn’t mean to be watching you two but I came down for water and I saw you out there wiping her tears.”

“She’s just having a hard time telling your parents about all of it. I was under the impression they knew and I had gotten upset with her for not telling them. She only told me this morning that they didn’t know I was her girlfriend.” You pull out a barstool along the kitchen island and sit down putting your hands in your head.

“Oh.”

“Yeah and I’ve been an ass to her about it, which was really a terrible thing for me to do to her.”

“They probably already know, the same way I already knew.” She took a sip from her glass and placed it back on the counter. “I know it probably doesn’t make it easier but It’s not like she had ever been boy crazy. Soccer was always the excuse but I think-”

She’s cut off as the sound of the door opening behind you has you both turning your head to where Jessie was coming through the door. She doesn’t even look at either of you, she speeds right past and you hear her go up the stairs.

You look back at her sister who just gives you a shrug. You’re about to stand up off the stool and follow her when you hear footsteps coming back down the stairs. Except this time it’s more than just the sound of Jessie’s feet. Her own steps are accompanied by the sound of other feet and the questions of Jessie’s parents.

“Jessie what are you doing? We were about to be in bed.” You hear her dad say as Jessie walks into the kitchen, both of her hands behind her, physically dragging her parents with her. They both look confused. Jessie marches them in your direction and stops right in front of you, letting go of her parent’s hands and moving next to you, leaving the four of you to be staring at each other. You see Jessie’s older brother pop his head around the corner, he must have heard the commotion and decided to come see what was happening.

“Mom. Dad.” She looks between them and then at you. “I didn't introduce you all properly before. Yes we play together, and yes she’s my favorite person, but she’s also my girlfriend.” She grabs your hand as she lets the word finally leave her lips. Her hand is clammy with a slight shake to it.

When no one says anything for a minute you start to get nervous. If this was about to go bad and you had pushed Jessie to tell them you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself. If you pushed her and all her fears came true, you couldn’t imagine how you’d begin to handle it. Jessie’s nose sniffles and you look up at her to see her eyes watering again.

Jessie’s dad moved forward to give her a hug. “Don’t cry kiddo, it’s okay.” His hand rubs her back.

“You’re not mad?” Jessie’s voice is so soft. Muffled into her dads shirt.

“Jessie don’t be silly! No, of course we’re not mad. A little surprised maybe, but mad? No.” Her mom joins in the conversation. “We’re always going to love you.” Jessie moves from her Dad’s arms into her Mom’s. Her hand is still tightly gripping yours. Jessie’s mom releases her hold on her daughter and turns her attention to you.

“It’s nice to properly meet you.” You stand up from the barstool and hug her. The hug is tighter than the one at the airport. When she pulls back from you she takes your hand that isn’t being held by Jessie and holds it between both of hers. “Anyone Jessie deems good enough for herself, is welcome in my house. We all know too well how picky she can be.”

“Mom.”

“I’m joking.” She looks at her daughter before turning back to you. “Seriously, welcome to our family.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate you having me.”

Jessie’s mom drops your hand from between hers and steps back making room for Jessie’s dad to move in front of you. For some reason meeting him for the second time feels way more intimidating. You extend your hand, feeling that now it was appropriate to provide a handshake.

“Oh please, Canadians are huggers.” He laughs at your extended hand and opens his arms. You give him a hug as well and you feel the nerves that had been building since Jessie let out the secret start to subside.

“Jess, the guest room is made up, but obviously if you want to share your bed instead that’s fine, you’ll just need to grab the bath towels and extra pillows we laid out from the guest bedroom. Now I’m going back to bed, if anyone else has any news they’d like to share either speak now or wait until the morning.” Her mom looks around between you and Jessie and then back at her two other children.

Her parents leave the kitchen and return to bed. Her siblings also retreat back to wherever they had been before. You stand up and turn to Jessie pulling her into a hug. You feel her relax into your arms, putting her weight into your body.

“I’m proud of you.” You whisper into her ear. You let her go from your grasp and hold her out from you by the shoulders to look at her face. “Ready for bed?” She gives you nod and then leads you out of the kitchen and to her bedroom.

You patiently wait in Jessie’s bed for her to finish up in the bathroom. She comes out, turning off the light and climbs under the sheets. “I love you.” She says, you're able to barely make out her face in the dark of the room. You feel her roll over, pushing her back and butt up against you. It was common that you were the big spoon, but especially after the day you both hand you wanted to hold her tonight. You move yourself further into her, wrapping your body around hers. Gently draping your arm across her waist and holding her, you both let out a sigh.

“I love you.” You respond back, placing a gentle kiss to her shoulder and soon after falling asleep to the sound of Jessie’s breathing.

[cherryrikis]

ONE LESS LONELY GIRL - 002 ! inconveniently convenient

PAIRING idols riki x fem reader

SYNOPSIS fans always point out the chemistry between you and riki, and it only continues to grow after you become mc’s together on music bank. but as your feelings rise, so does the tension. and people begin to notice, so you try not to let riki know how you feel. but unbeknownst to you, he feels entirely the same way.

authors note im trying to update as often as i can bc i start school in 2 days😭

previous <> masterlist <> next

with the manager’s permission, you and minji left the dorm to walk together to the local convenience store.

“look, they have an enhypen lucky draw event here.” she pointed out as you both walked past it by the entrance.

“can we get one on the way out?” your eyes lit up at the mention of it, while you followed minji down the produce aisle. “sure, why not.”

the two of you picked out a few snacks and some drinks for the dorm until you began making your way to the cash register to check out. “would you like to buy a bag today for 500 won?” the clerk asked with a cheerful tone. “yes please.”

“your total is 35,500 won. also- i don’t mean to intrude. but i am a big fan. you guys did so good performing at music bank today!” she encouraged.

“aw, thank you so much!” minji smiled with a wave, paying for the groceries before following you to the lucky draw machine.

you each pressed the button once, flipping the photocards over so you couldn’t see who you got. on the count of three, you both turned it over, revealing your pulls. you had gotten sunghoon, and minji had pulled riki.

“oh, it’s your boyfriend. here, keep it.” she teased with a smirk. but as soon as minji slightly looked at the person behind you, her face fell.

“wow. he’s pretty handsome.” a voice from behind you called out.

you were mortified. as soon as you turned around, you were met with none other than-

“-riki! poor yn. you’re scaring her!” jungwon frowned, lightly slapping riki’s arm with the back of his hand. “sorry about that.” he apologized on the younger boy’s behalf.

“no worries. i’m sorry. you really caught me off guard.” you smiled.

“suddenly i feel underdressed.” minji joked as she gestured to jungwon, who still hadn’t changed out the stage outfit he wore on music bank.

“oh, not at all. if anything, i’m overdressed.” he waved. “normally i’d change as soon as we get home, but practice ran late. and this one here was hogging the shower as soon as he was first inside the dorm.” jungwon nudged riki’s stomach.

while they became immersed in their own conversations, riki moved closer to you, wanting to engage with you as well.

“hey, good job today at mubank. nice to know you find me.. charming.” he winked.

“gosh. if i hear someone say music bank one more time, i might just die. it was awful.” you groaned.

“i thought it was pretty cute.” he shrugged.

“what are you guys doing here anyway?” you asked, changing the topic. “it’s pretty late.”

“oh. jungwon got the penalty to buy everyone food, since he was last to the dorms. but i came because he never knows where to find the japanese snacks. good thing i didn’t stay home though.” riki gestured to you who currently held his photocard in your card.

“sorry about today. i was really nervous..” you looked down, scratching the back of your neck.

he tilted his head in confusion, before using his hand to tilt your chin up. “yeah, no kidding. you were practically shaking the whole interview.” riki pouted.

you groaned as you suddenly felt shy yet again, beginning to bring your hand up to cover your face once more. only riki had held your wrist, bringing your arm down.

“stop avoiding me. it’s okay. we’re all like that at first.” he comforted.

and suddenly, you felt better.

“hey, we’re gonna go now.” jungwon informed. “let’s walk back together? i mean, we live in the same building anyway.”

surely, you were bound to be recognized. but you couldn’t bring yourself to care in the moment. you laughed freely as riki joked with you, walking shoulder to shoulder together as minji and jungwon were a bit more ahead.

“you know, i was pretty nervous too. at the interview. to think that i got to be next to you, let alone have the yoon yn stare at me whenever i spoke? dream come true.” he clutched his chest, faking a fainting motion.

“you’re just saying that to make me feel better.” you rolled your eyes playfully.

“no, really. i’m dead serious. why do you think i kept making eye contact with you?”

and suddenly the world stopped spinning once more. you smiled as you felt riki’s arm wrap around your upper half, securing you as you walked towards the entrance of the building together.

you screamed into the pillow yet again, but this time, not out of embarrassment or fear.

“what’s going on?” hanni asked, coming out the bathroom with a sheet mask on.

she took a seat next to you and hyein on her bed, while minji, danielle, and haerin stayed on danielle’s bed.

“when we went to the store, we ran into jungwon and riki. they were talking to each other the entire time. jungwon and i saw them literally making heart eyes.” minji’s lips curled into a smirk, as she took a spoonful from her pudding cup.

“no kidding.. check this out!” hyein called out, gesturing for everyone to gather around her as she held out her phone.

TAGLIST (italics = couldnt be tagged) @hannicorpse @luvvhaerin @itzningning @en-verse @ren2jay @choppedballoondetective @heartheejake @imanalien143 @istglevi-gotmesimping @yndairy @eleanorheartschishiya @lonelylandofan @gweoriz @jaemified @onlyhyunjin @softpia @frecklesbrownies @riksaes @wensurr @rikifordmiami @brideslit @ant-onie @yumilovesloona @aeminju @hoonics @catecita @clampclover @rei4sunoo @addictedtohobi @rikidaze @baekxo07 @xotyla @melancholy-z @rikisgeef @jung1w0n @tocupid @onlyseung @i03jae

[punkshort]

i’m the anon who asked about the request! if you decide to do it, i’d absolutely wait forever😂 it’s very angsty tho, so the idea was for outbreak joel who doesn’t get the happy ending. reader who was head over heels in love coping with his death, maybe flashbacks to show the moments of reader seeing him die? idkidk the idea is very vague, sorry if it’s too sad!! if so maybe reader seeing him die was just a terrible nightmare & he’s there waking them up & helping them through a meltdown?

i’ve been craving for some emotional torture for wtv reason😭😭 thank you for even considering requests!🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

Thank you for this request! It's my first one, so I hope you enjoy it. Also, I had to take the out you gave me and make this a nightmare because I am a big ol' softie and I won't apologize for it, but I will apologize for taking so long to write it 😂

I hate when you're right

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: After a heated argument with Joel, you finally convince him into leaving Jackson so you could explore a store for new clothes, and what happens could change your life forever.

Warnings: major character (Joel) death - but it is just a nightmare - don't read if you think that will still upset you, angst, language, violence, descriptions of blood/gore/death scene

WC: 2.5K

dividers by the one and only @saradika-graphics

You knew it was childish. You knew it wasn't essential. But you also desperately wanted to feel more comfortable, and was that really such a crime? To want to feel like yourself again? To want to wear clothes that you liked? That fit you properly? Jackson was well stocked with essentials, clothes included, but the clothes the men picked up on patrol were... utilitarian, to say the least. They grabbed the biggest and the warmest clothes so that it afforded more people the opportunity to use them, but you were beginning to grow tired of tucking men's oversized shirts into your pants, the material bunching up at your waist and twisting around as you walked, constantly trying and failing to feel comfortable in your own skin.

You thought Joel would be more open to the idea of heading outside the walls on your day off. You even teased him with the promise of picking up some new underwear, but he didn't fall for it. He fought you tooth and nail the whole evening, his voice lifting over yours angrily to explain how there's been an influx of raiders the past few weeks, that everyone agreed to lay low until they passed through, not wanting to draw attention or pick any unwanted fights. But you persisted. You always did, and you eventually wore him down when you threatened to leave without him.

Why was it such a crime to want to feel comfortable? It was just two people, you could lay low and go unseen, no problem. You've done it countless times before.

You had hoped he would have gotten over it by morning, but you were wrong. He hardly made eye contact with you during breakfast, skirting expertly around you in your kitchen, mumbling under his breath as he sipped his coffee and only shooting you angry looks when your back was turned.

The air was crisp and the woods were peaceful. You thought that would surely turn his mood around. He always appreciated being out with nature, living off the land. As much as he loved living in Jackson, he couldn't deny that part of himself that felt useful, that felt a sense of accomplishment by surviving out in the wild.

"C'mon, are you really gonna act like this all day?" you teased as you held up another shirt against your body before determining it was the right size and then tossed it in a pile with the others.

He was standing at the storefront window with his arms crossed and his jaw clenched. "Don't know what you mean."

You rolled your eyes and looked around the store, spotting a table of underwear with a grin. You lightly skipped over and tossed to the side the pairs that looked far too dusty so you could look at the ones underneath. Clearing your throat, you held up a pair of bright red stain underwear. He turned around and you saw it: it was fast, he hid it well, but you still saw it. That all too familiar excited look in his eye.

"Don't you like them?" you asked with a playful pout. He furrowed his brow at you like he was annoyed, and maybe he was, but you still saw the heat beginning to crawl up his neck.

"They ain't practical."

You gave him a defeated sigh and strolled over to your pile of clothes, your fingertips daintily holding the undergarment out to him. "No? Then what are they?"

His eyes shifted from yours to the red material in your hand and you saw his throat work as he swallowed.

"Useless," he croaked, and you narrowed your eyes at him. You got a little closer, letting the soft fabric glide against the back of his hand when you dropped your arm to your side.

"Oh, yeah?" you said breathily, and you watched his eyelids flutter at your tone. "Then I guess it wouldn't matter if I brought them home and let you rip them off me."

He stepped forward, a growl emitting from his chest, low and deep, when at the exact same time, you both heard shouting outside the store. Swiveling both your heads towards the glass storefront, your blood ran cold when you saw six heavily armed men advancing towards you.

"Shit," he muttered, his arm pulling your shoulder down just in time to avoid the cascade of bullets that rained down upon you. You laid face down on the rough carpet, covering the back of your head with your eyes squeezed shut, waiting for the shooting to stop. Joel tugged on your arm and you opened your eyes in a panic.

"Follow me!" he shouted, army crawling towards the registers, and you dutifully followed behind, your heart racing wildly in your chest.

Once you made it, the counter offering some, but not much, safety, the both of you pulled out your guns and double checked your ammo.

"Alright, when they stop to reload-"

"I know," you said, cutting him off. You've both been in this situation before. You knew what to do.

Holding your rifle upright and against your chest, you breathed deep, trying to steady your hands until the bullets slowed and you heard more shouting. Joel nodded to you and you both sprung up from the floor, pulling your rifles against your bodies in sync and lining up your targets.

Patience is a virtue. The amount of ammunition they wasted on the two of you was laughable when you each caught one of them between the eyes, leaving four against two.

You thought you would be able to get another shot off but Joel tugged your arm and you slinked back to the floor as a shower of bullets rained over you once again.

"You good?" he asked, and you nodded, gasping for air. Your hands began to stabilize when the shock wore off. You were in the zone.

Pressing both your backs against the small counter, you remained calm and waited out your attackers. Glass shards tinkled and scattered behind you. Bullets pinged against the metal shelving, ricocheting into the drywall.

"Assault rifles for two people? Really?" you muttered, more so to yourself, but Joel heard you.

"Told you this was a bad fuckin' idea," he said angrily.

When there was another brief pause, he looked to you again and nodded. At the same time, you rose up and took aim, firing on your attackers once again. Joel made his shot, you didn't. Three down, three to go.

"Fuck," you grumbled, reloading your rifle even though you still had rounds left.

"Focus," he scolded.

The men sounded like they were getting closer. Their voices were louder. Clearer. The shots were deafening. You prayed they weren't inside the store, because you hadn't planned an exit strategy. Without warning, Joel stood up and fired a shot. You heard a man scream and then a loud thud. It sounded like the man was just on the other side of the counter.

"That's not the plan," you seethed at him when he dropped back down next to you.

"Didn't have a choice, he was 'bout to jump us," he sneered.

Two against two.

When the shots slowed down, you held your breath, looking at Joel from the corner of your eye. He held his palm up to you silently, signaling for you to stay where you were. You heard boots crunching slowly against glass and your heart leapt into your throat. They were in the store.

You shot Joel a panicked look but he just shook his head, focusing on their footsteps, calculating how far away they were.

"Come out now and no one gets hurt," a man's deep voice called out. He was close.

Joel clenched his jaw and flared his nostrils. You knew that look. It was the look of a man who was about to do something stupid. But before you could stop him, before you could reach out to him and hold him back, he stood up and took aim.

One shot. That was all you heard when Joel slumped to the floor next to you, clutching his stomach as dark red blood poured from the wound. Your eyes went wide and you saw red. Without thinking, you stood up and shot, taking one of the two men down with a yelp. The remaining raider ducked behind a display, and you dropped your rifle in favor of your handgun. Crouching low to the ground, you inched forward, careful of any broken glass that would give your position away. When you were on the other side of the display, you heard the man's labored breaths. He was scared. He was out of his element. And you had him right where you wanted him.

Silently tucking the gun in the back of your pants, you slid your hunting knife out from your ankle holster. You took a deep breath and lunged forward, driving the knife deep into the man's chest.

He dropped his gun and clutched weakly at your hands, but it was no use. His blood poured from the wound when you yanked your knife out with a grunt, and you watched as his hands slowly slid back down to his sides, his eyes still wide open and staring up at the ceiling.

You smirked, feeling victorious for only a moment before you remembered Joel. Dropping your knife, you rushed back to his side, only to find his face pale and his hands stained dark red.

"Joel!" you cried out, pressing your palms against the wound, hoping to slow the bleeding. His eyes drifted towards you, softening when he saw you were alive and unharmed. That you were going to make it.

Panic consumed you. Your heart was slamming against your ribs as you fumbled with your backpack, trying to find your first aid kit through the tears.

"I love you," he whispered, and you shook your head.

"Don't start with that, you're gonna be fine."

"Baby," he said weakly, and you choked back a sob.

"Hold on," you told him, still searching in your pack.

"Look at me," he said, and your hands stilled for a moment before you dragged your eyes back to him, your lower lip trembling as you took in his deteriorating state.

"I need to-" you began, but stopped to take in a shaky breath. "I need to patch you up and get you to the horses."

"No, you don't," he said softly, and more tears spilled from your eyes.

"Yes, I do. I gotta-"

"I ain't gonna make it, sweetheart," he slurred, and you could see by the amount of blood he was losing that he was right. But still, you pressed your palms against the gunshot wound, your fingers slipping through his thick and sticky blood.

"Don't say that. I can't do this without you," you whimpered, and closed your eyes for a brief moment. You felt his fingertips weakly grip your chin and you forced your eyes back open.

"Yes, you can," he said as firmly as he could. He was so pale and weak and it was making your stomach turn.

You shook your head, about to argue with him, but he stopped you.

"You keep goin', you hear me?" he said, and still, you shook your head from side to side, small sobs slipping past your lips. "Don't let this world win. You... go on and keep fightin'. Please. Be happy, baby. For me."

"No!" you cried out, spittle dripping from your lips now, mixing with your tears. "I won't! I-I can't!"

"You can," he repeated, and gave you a weak smile. "I'm ready, baby. It'll be okay."

You squeezed your eyes shut tight, the tears leaking out, hot and angry on your cheeks as you sobbed over him, clutching his hand in yours so tightly, like if you squeezed hard enough, you could give him your lifeforce. Give him your breath. But moments later, his grip weakened and when you opened your eyes, his head slumped to the side and his lifeless eyes stared off into the distance.

"Joel!" you screamed, sitting up in bed, drenched in sweat with tears still streaming down your face. You looked to your side, where he normally slept, but he wasn't there. Panic squeezed your throat, your chest fucking hurt, but you flung the blankets off you and ran towards the door. Still not hearing any sounds, you raced down the stairs, almost tripping in the process but you had a grip on the railing to keep you steady.

When your eyes finally landed on his familiar form stretched out on the couch, his back to you, you allowed yourself to breathe a sigh of relief.

Reality came back to you now. You had your fight about leaving Jackson, but he won and you slept apart. You never left. He never got shot. It was all just a horrible dream.

You stumbled over to the couch, your tears unstoppable, the nightmare too vivid, too real. Your trembling hands clutched his shoulder as you fell to your knees on the floor, shaking him awake.

"What?" he grumbled, clearly still pissed off about your fight.

"I'm sorry!" you sobbed loudly, and when he realized something was wrong, he whipped around to face you.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.

"I-I had-" you began, then you hiccupped, cutting yourself off. His face was etched with concern as he forced himself up and cupped your face.

"C'mon, talk to me," he urged, the fear in his eyes reflecting back to you as you looked at him, still not sure what was real and what wasn't.

"I had a nightmare," you finally managed to get out. "About our fight. That we... we went out like I wanted and-and-" you collapsed into another fit of sobs, your shoulders shaking violently.

"Hey, it's alright," he soothed, pulling you up and into his lap and rubbing your back. You pressed your tear stained face into his neck, inhaling deeply, grounding yourself. He was alive. He was here. Everything was fine.

"I'm sorry," you whimpered, your throat still tight but your tears were slowing down. "I'm sorry we fought. I don't wanna go out anymore. I don't need new clothes, it was stupid, I'm sorry."

"Shh, it's okay," he said, pulling you tightly against his chest, "I'm sorry we fought, too. I just wanna keep us safe."

"I know, you're right," you said, pulling back a bit and wiping your nose with the back of your hand. "Will you come back to bed?"

"Yeah," he replied with half a smirk. "'Course I'll come back to bed, baby. Don't cry, it's alright."

You let him lead you up the stairs and to your bedroom, your side of the bed still damp with sweat but it didn't bother you. Joel was safe and sound and in your arms and you didn't care if you had to wear a potato sack for the rest of your life, as long as you had Joel, nothing else mattered.

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