#I see your angst ...and I raise you my teeth-rotting fluff | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sp4ceboo · 3 months ago

Text

Maniac: OT8!Stray Kids x Reader

genre: a/b/o au, omegaverse, medieval au, ot8 x reader, pack dynamics, afab!reader, smut and angst and fluff

summary: you're your pack's only omega - when your alphas are taken from you, you refuse to rest until you're reunited with them

A/N: i loved writing this so come get your food i hope u guys like it <33

tw: 18+, a lot of smut (p in v, bath sex, knots and all that a/b/o shit, mentions of breeding ofc, 1 accidental pass out, oral - m&f recieving, face fucking, so much cum oh god, crying during sex, bit of mxm at points, somno but not much, lots of praise, one instance of finger sucking, manhandling, overstimulation, a spank, no mentioned protection because sorry it's medieval times, back scratching and biting, creampie, reader basically gets run a train on, a few 3some type things, dw there is also soft smut, guys please pee after sex), gore, blood, death, fighting, evil creepy dude, mention of past trauma, swearing, mistreatment of omegas, half assed editing, porn plot 50-50 split i reckon

wc: 12.98k

The moment the heavy wooden door of the smithy splinters and gives way, you bolt upright. Minho is already out of bed, the sheets still warm from where he was lying beside you, and you catch the glint of steel in his hand as he stands by the window, peering out at the street below; Seungmin is gone, his side of the mattress cold. Your heart stutters, and you stiffen at the all too familiar musky scent that permeates the air, rising up from between the rickety floorboards.

‘Goemul?’ You ask.

Minho nods grimly. ‘Who else?’

‘Fuck. He won’t leave me alone, will he?’

‘We won’t let him anywhere near you,’ he replies, voice low and full of anger.

You squeeze your eyes shut when Minho tucks an arm around your waist and presses you to him, pushing your nose into his neck; breathing in his scent - rain and sweet vanilla - you allow yourself a moment of comfort in his strong embrace before breaking away. A crash sounds below, and you grab your staff.

Jisung bursts in. You smell the fight on him before you see the bruising blooming across his face; there’s adrenaline spiking his scent and blood splattered across his front - not his, you note with relief. There’s a wild look in his eyes, the same look you saw the first time Goemul came for you.

‘He’s back, and with more troops,’ he gasps. ‘Chan says - ’

A chilling battle cry rings out, cutting him off.

Ice skitters down your spine. None of your pack are arrogant enough to have a signature war cry - there’s only one person that could be. Minho visibly bristles, his fingers flexing on the hilt of his sword before he shoulders open the bedroom door and you hear his footsteps pound down the stairs. You move to follow, but Jisung grabs your wrist.

‘Chan says you have to go. You need to run.’

You scoff. ‘Absolutely not. This is my pack.’

An edge enters Jisung’s voice. ‘And you’re our omega.’

You give him a look and he can see there’s no way he can convince you - you sprint down the stairs, him hot on your heels. Immediately, the smell of the fight overwhelms you as your feet hit the floor: at least twenty other alphas versus your eight, and a few betas fighting amongst the enemy too. Face twisted fiercely and teeth bared, Hyunjin barrels by, slashing at a stocky, snarling alpha with a rusted sword. It’s one of the ones Felix had scavenged for melting down, and you can see the wooden hilt is rotting.

Without hesitation, you raise your hand, and the attack runes painted there for an occasion just like this glow azure blue, so bright they’re almost white, and the alpha collapses, his heart ruptured in his chest. Panting, Hyunjin glances up and gives you a nod before diving back into battle, aiding Jeongin with the two betas tag teaming him.

You thrust yourself into the melee, fighting with both a sword you snatch off a fallen knight and your runes and staff. Energy begins to flow from you, leaking from your soul each time you use your runes - you’re careful to rotate your usage of the different ones inscribed on your skin, making sure you don’t tire a specific one, yet still you feel the itch of their overuse, and the knights pouring in aren’t thinning.

You catch sight of Goemul through the grappling bodies, and a flash of pure fear rivets you to the spot despite yourself. He’s locked in combat with Chan, but the spike in your scent catches both their attention, Goemul’s roar piercing through the sound of clashing blades. Chan hands seamlessly over to Changbin, and you feel his gaze pinpoint on you as he cuts through any attackers that try to stop him as he approaches.

You try to ignore his insistent stare, instead whacking one of the intruders over the head with your staff and forcefully bringing your knee up into his stomach. Chan is sweaty, his shoulders heaving from the fight, and guilt stings your chest - if it wasn’t for you, Goemul and his pack wouldn’t be here.

‘I thought I told Jisung to tell you to run.’

His voice is rough, raspy no doubt from shouting orders to the boys, and nearly drowned out from the din of the fight, yet you hear him clearly, attuned to the sound of your pack leader’s voice.

‘I wanted to stay and fight. It’s my fault, anyway.’

‘This is not your fault,’ Chan snaps. ‘We all knew Goemul would come after you.’

‘And yet you took me in anyway,’ you mutter.

He gives you a sharp look. ‘You need to run. We’re not going to last much longer. We’re tired, and we weren’t expecting it. We need you to break us out when they take us prisoner.’

You don’t think about the other option, the option that doesn’t include taking prisoners and includes death, instead breathing out an anxious: ‘What if I can’t?’

‘I know you can. I trust you, omega.’

Even in the midst of a fight, Chan knows what to say to put you at ease. He knows what is needed to look after his pack, and you know that he knows this, without doubt. You can see that your alphas are tiring, can see that this attack came as a surprise - Changbin is fighting with a hammer used for shaping swords, for fuck’s sake.

You swallow thickly. ‘I love you, Channie. Keep them safe, please. Keep yourself safe.’

Curtly, he nods. No promises. You turn on your heel and run.

You’ve been told all your life that omegas don’t fight, that omegas aren’t fierce. Omegas don’t retaliate, and they take whatever they’re given by their alphas without complaint.

Too bad that’s all been proven official bullshit.

The night is hostile. Clouds scuttle across the sky, polluting the moon’s pure silver light, and the soggy leaves beneath your feet muffle your footsteps - it’s cold, dark, damp, but you’re kept warm by the hot fury that you’ve been nursing since that night, knotted in a ball nestled right beside your heart.

Leaves are flattened beneath your boots. Wind weaves its way thinly through the tree trunks, singing lowly to itself. The stars are blotted from the sky, the moon a thin, faltering sliver. You walk onwards, staff sturdy against your palm.

Tonight is a perfect night for revenge.

Tonight you’re going to make sure Goemul leaves your pack alone for good, and tonight you’re going to make sure that you’re reunited with your alphas. It doesn’t matter that you’re an omega - you will fight. You can fight.

Your staff is testament to that. So are the attack runes painted in practised calligraphy on both your hands, the black ink winding up your forearms - you’ve added more since your alphas were taken from you, enough to extinguish the possibility of exhausting all of them. There are runes to boil a man’s brain in his skull, runes to explode his lungs even as he draws breath, runes made so you can protect your pack.

You are also half feral with the beginnings of your heat.

Blood rushes through your body, your heart pumping so hard in your chest you think it may punch through your ribs; your pupils are fully dilated, anticipating the fight. There’s a roaring in your ears, and intertwined in the thunderous, earsplitting noise of it is an insistent whisper: protect, protect, protect.

There’s no preventing this timing. Every second you spend without your pack, they could be hurting, bleeding, worse. All the preheat does is give you a vicious edge - the desperation of a cornered animal, the strength of one who has nothing else to lose.

You think this is what your ancestors must have felt, back when there were no cities, no castles made of rock, no swords or books, just the primal urge to hunt and fight and protect. You wonder if they smile down on you. You wonder if they slip silently across the narrow path before you, guiding you with ghostly hands, spurring you forward, closer to your pack, closer to the keep.

Closer to Goemul.

Once, he owned you. Owned you, because he does not believe omegas can belong - they can only be owned. You would spend nights curled on the stone floor, trying to rid yourself of his awful scent, nights where you would stare up at the pitiless rafters - even they smelt like him, wishing you were anywhere but where you were.

And then came Seungmin, carrying with him the scent of warm embers and freedom.

Somehow, here you are again, back on Goemul’s territory. You knew he wouldn’t let you go easily; you are proof to those he crushes beneath his boot heels that there is an escape.

There are two knights posted outside the keep’s wide wooden doors - thankfully ones that won’t recognise you. Faintly, you can hear the sounds of a feast within, yellow light spilling out into the night. Overhead, the clouds coalesce, and something in the air sharpens - the first patter of rain hits the tree canopy, muting your footsteps as you step forward.

‘Halt,’ one of the guards commands. ‘State your purpose.’

‘I’m just a blacksmith, sir,’ you reply meekly. ‘Looking to sell my wares to the lord and his men.’

The other guard grunts, sending a nod to the one who spoke, and swings open a hatch set in the big doors, the hinges groaning in protest. Ducking your head, you step into the great hall: it’s a huge, cavernous room made of rough, dark granite with flaming sconces fixed to the walls and violent tapestries hung between them; it’s where Goemul receives his guests.

Just the sight of the place makes your stomach turn, but it’s the heavy stench of musk that forces you to hide the shaking of your hands in the folds of your cloak. The musk in Goemul’s scent is heavy and suffocating, like a dirty, soaked blanket dumped discourteously over one’s head - nothing like Chan’s.

You glance around the hall. There are about three alphas to every omega in the room; the latter are interspersed throughout the former, either chained or collared - something that you remember all too well. Two lounge on the podium beneath Goemul’s chair, which is really more of a throne with its gaudy ornate carvings, their hands on him, their eyes brimming with fear.

You remember that, too.

And there, in the corner, you see them. Your nails dig into your palms. Your pack. Your pack. Crammed in a tiny cage, chained to a ring set in the wall, curled against each other. Nothing can hide the anger that rises in your scent when you see that Chan has pushed his way to the front, protecting his boys, bruises flowering across his face and neck and arms, dried blood smeared on his tattered shirt.

You know Goemul. You know that the cage is purpose built to hold prisoners used for entertainment.

Unmistakable now, fury soars on you, permeating the smell of the feast, permeating Goemul’s pungent musk.

Slowly, heads begin to turn. They don’t recognise you - you’ve masked your scent with runes scrawled down your collarbones and ringing your wrists, written over twice to hide the smell of your preheat. Still, they stare, with a sort of reluctant curiosity.

‘A blacksmith, my lord,’ one of the guards announces from behind you.

Goemul narrows his eyes, trying to see your face from the shadows of your hood. ‘What for?’

‘Looking to sell her wares, she said.’

He guffaws, and the sound of laughter ripples through those sitting at the banqueting table even though they don’t know what’s amusing him. Slowly, he gets to his feet, the two omegas scrambling to give him space - you see the glint of a chain pulling tight, fixed to the base of the podium. The guard beside you shuffles his feet nervously. Somewhere within the darkened cage, you swear you see someone stir.

‘What wares, guard?’

Gleefully, Goemul inhales like he’s feasting upon the guard’s fear as he realises you carry nothing, just the staff in your hand. You hear his muttered curse, the whoosh of air when he takes in a hurried breath, preparing to spill out apologies, not knowing how this has raised his lord’s wrath so intensely but knowing that he needs to beg and scrape if he wants to live.

‘Leave.’

Goemul’s voice hasn’t even finished ringing through the hall before the guard is tripping over himself to slam the hatch behind him, not waiting to see if his lord will withdraw his mercy. Slowly, Goemul settles back down on his throne, the omegas assuming their previous positions, their hands running over his legs as if to appease his anger.

You let your cowl fall back, revealing your features.

A murmur ripples through Goemul’s men.

He waits until they’re quiet. Around the room, the omegas watch you with wide eyes - you know they recognise you, you know they’re wondering why you would ever choose to return to this cursed place. Nearest to you, one jerks his head a little, as if to tell you to run.

‘I knew you’d come crawling back, my omega,’ he grins, smiling with too many teeth. ‘Although, I guess I do have something of yours, don’t I?’

‘I am not yours, Goemul,’ you hiss.

Lightning flares outside, followed by a strident clap of thunder.

‘Your pack is, though,’ he chuckles. ‘We had so much fun together, little omega. Channie and I are well acquainted now, since we had our nice pack leader to pack leader conversation.’

‘You keep his name out your mouth,’ you snap.

‘He bled a lot, though,’ Goemul muses, faking thoughtfulness. ‘I can’t seem to understand why.’

His dark eyes bore into yours, waiting to see your response. You can tell that he knows his goading is getting to you - he’s smiling that infernal smile, the one that makes you want to peel his skin from his bones and force it down his throat with a dagger.

Outside, thunder growls, low and furious.

You raise your staff. ‘You leave me no choice.’

Eyes locked on his, you bring it down. The oakwood hits the stone floor with a sound far louder than it should be, as if the very rock beneath your feet has split, rended apart down to the Earth’s very core. A muffled whoompf follows, and one by one, the torches in the sconces are snuffed out by an unseen force. Darkness descends.

All around, you sense scents spiking - they may be Goemul’s men, but they still feel fear; you doubt any of them have met someone who wields sorcery, let alone an omega. A hush falls over the hall, loaded with the anticipation before a fight.

‘A little bit of shadow won’t scare us, omega,’ Goemul calls.

You don’t reply. You’re busy stalking silently across the room, a key in your hand. It doesn’t matter that it’s not the one from the ring on Goemul’s belt - it’s covered all over with unlocking runes moulded right into the metal, something you forged yourself.

There’s a tinge of wild anger in Goemul’s voice when he speaks again. ‘Omega?’

When you reach through the bars of the cage, a warm, calloused hand is already waiting. Now that you’re close, you can smell their individual scents, the hurt and the exhaustion on them. Your eyes have adjusted to the gloom just enough that you can see Felix curled against Changbin, and although they’re both smiling proudly at you, eyes fierce, you can see the pain in their faces too. It sets bitter anger roiling within you, as deep and wrathful as the storm outside.

You know Goemul is listening. You hope he is, as the sound of a key in a lock and the clatter of chains rings out through the room. You hope he feels the control slipping through his desperate, clawing fingers as nervous whispers riffle through the great hall, as alphas reach for their swords, disbelieving that Goemul failed to make a single, lone omega submit to him.

And then, low and menacing and crystal clear, Chan growls.

You feel everyone in the hall freeze at the sound. There are no words to the deep rumble vibrating in his chest, just the white hot, primal fury of a leader whose pack has been hurt. Simply the tone of it roots half the men in the hall to the spot, the hairs on the backs of their necks rising, their palms slick with sweat as they stare wide eyed into the darkness.

‘Goemul,’ Chan snarls, stepping from the cage. ‘I swear I will not rest until you are dead.’

The last part comes out as a roar, and with it, chaos descends.

Before the echo of Chan’s voice has even died down, air whooshes past you - what must be Changbin and Minho shooting out of the cage. A strangled cry sounds as they finish off the closest two alphas, wrenching their swords from their belts to fight with. Someone’s hand brushes your waist as the rest of your pack members swiftly exit the cage: Felix, by the gentle scent of violets that washes over you, and yet on it you can almost taste the yearning to fight.

Your alphas are not vengeful. Protective, however, is a different story, and as each of their unique scents spread out across the room, meeting Goemul’s alphas that slash out blindly with their swords blow for blow, you know each of them are thinking of what all of you have gone through under Goemul’s orders.

Above it all, Goemul’s battle cry rings out, but you don’t flinch, don’t bat an eyelash - you’re ready for him this time, fresh runes all over your skin. Your alphas may be injured, but they’ve been cooped up in a too small cage for almost a week and they’re sure as hell fucking angry.

A feverish, clammy hand grabs your wrist. Hot air laced with the stink of ale puffs against your cheek. ‘Witch.’

You take a step forward, stabbing out with the butt of your staff and catching your attacker in the stomach. A throng of them have formed around you, angry and growling and still reeling that one omega has caused this much havoc, their movements uncoordinated and laced with more fear than any of them would ever admit.

Under the low illumination of the lightning strikes, you can just about see they’ve made a ring around you. Maybe they think that their numbers will prevail over your sorcery and they’ve got a quick kill, because some of them are smiling as if the fight’s already over. You almost feel sorry for them.

Almost.

As you strike out with your staff, you think of Chan, welcoming you into his pack, back when all you could do around alphas was flinch - patient, soft spoken Channie, bloodied by Goemul and his men from shielding the boys with his body, half conscious from the violence.

You think of Minho as you break a man’s nose, Minho who said little to begin with but would always be silently checking on you, making sure you were comfortable, leaving you an extra blanket in winter before he eventually slept by your side, his body warm against yours, currently with a split lip and cracked ribs.

You knock a man’s sword from his hand, catching it in your own, and think of Changbin, always there to make you smile and feel safe with his big arms and tight hugs, always acting tough but in truth all soft and gooey on the inside, his knuckles now bloodied and face twisted in pain.

While you cut down another alpha that runs at you, you think of Hyunjin, who calls you his muse, who crafts the most beautiful ornate daggers back at the smithy, and who gave you his favourite one with a sweet kiss on your forehead and a promise to never leave you, painted with bruises that spread wide over his back.

Your stolen blade clashes against an attacker’s as you think of Jisung, your Jisung who never fails to make you laugh, never fails to wrap his arms around you from behind when you need it most, beaten until he blacked out, his eyes almost swollen shut from the bruising.

The runes painted on your palms glow bright while you think of Felix, who baked you sweet treats and wiped your tears every day that they fell, who healed your soul with his sunshine smile, nose bloody and near broken from repeated blows.

Fatigue makes your arm tremble as you swing your sword, but you fight on, thinking of Seungmin, who was the first to find you, the first to plant the seed of hope, always the one who dispels your doubts with the sureness of his words, his head now bowed and teeth gritted to fight to keep down the cry that builds within him from the pain.

Your blade gets stuck between an alpha’s ribs, so you whirl your staff in your hands and think of Jeongin, sweet, sweet Jeongin who would hold your hand after the nightmares, whispering reassurances and holding you until you could fall asleep again, his big hands carding through your hair, bloodied and beaten for nothing but sport.

You fight, and as you do, you think of your alphas. You let the insistent whisper from before rise to become a roar, rise to drown out the sounds of the battle: protect, protect, protect. It burns like liquor as it rushes through your veins, and you find it strengthens you, even as the energy spills from you through the usage of your runes; it guides your blade, guides your staff, ensuring your strikes hit home.

And then, all of a sudden, no one’s attacking you any more.

No one is running at you with swords, derisive words on their lips, no one is throwing punches at you or trying to sweep your legs out from under you so they can kick you when you’re down. You sway a little, half expecting someone to appear out of nowhere, but all the remaining alphas subservient to Goemul are fighting elsewhere or have fled - they weren’t prepared, instead lulled into a false sense of safety within their own keep. There’s a ring of bodies slumped on the floor around you.

Something wrenches in your gut, twisting. A warning: your heat will be upon you soon - the longest you have left is a few hours. Sweat suddenly pricks at your body. You need to finish this, and quickly.

Chan blurs by, exchanging hurled punches and vicious kicks with Goemul. You’re leaning against your staff for support, catching your breath, but as three alphas dive into the melee, clawing at Chan’s back and hauling him off Goemul, and as you spot the two omegas, still chained to the podium and cowering under a half collapsed table, unable to escape, you find you aren’t really that tired after all.

You’re on Goemul within seconds.

He grins. ‘Hello again, my little omega - ’

You punch him across the face. Hard. His head snaps to the side, and you grab his shirt, slamming him once, twice against the hard, unforgiving floor of his great hall, savage red fog hazing your vision, not letting up even when you feel the crunch of his nose beneath your knuckles.

‘You’re stupid, Goemul,’ - you spit the name he’s created for himself - ‘for underestimating omegas. You think you’re destined to lord over us all, when all you are is a fucking scared little pup clinging to control and power you don’t deserve.’

Despite it all, he laughs, and blood glistens on his teeth. ‘You’re driving yourself crazy, little omega. I can smell the heat on you - you can’t kill me if your body needs my knot. All you need to do is to ask for it, sweet thing, and I’ll give it to you.’

Your grip on him falters, and he flips you, pinning you to the floor beneath him. Struggling against his grip, you thrash, your careful runes long forgotten, crimson rolling in like mist over the hills, and something wide and primal yawns open within you - your lips pull back, and you bare your teeth at him, pupils dilating as you lurch your head forward, snapping at his throat.

Goemul dodges just in time, holding you at arms length even as you claw at his face and neck. All you can hear is protect, protect, protect and the hidden voice beneath it saying kill him and end it, make him pay, do it for the pack, for your alphas.

His eyes widen. ‘You’re a maniac.’

You look up, over his shoulder, past him, your laugh chilling. ‘Yes.’

Impossibly, his eyes open further, bulging, and a low, strained gurgle sounds from deep in his throat. Trembling, one of his hands comes up to his chest, and he looks down, surprise and fear contorting his features as his finger gets sliced open on the tip of the blade protruding from between his collarbones.

Goemul’s eyes roll back, and his body slumps over you, deadweight. Dazed, you gaze up at Jeongin, admiring his handsome features, albeit splattered with gore from the fight and covered with a look of disgust as he places a foot on Goemul’s back and wrenches his sword out. It makes a wet, sucking sound as it goes, and your alpha dumps the sword on the floor in favour of heaving the cooling body off you and pulling you into his arms.

Mint and lavender, clean and fresh and soothing, rush at your senses as you take a deep breath in. You’re clinging onto Jeongin so hard that it must be hurting him, but he doesn’t seem to mind, holding you just as tightly to him, burying his face in your neck, his nose right against your scent gland as he just inhales.

Eventually, you jostle him, your senses coming back to you. You need to grab your staff; you can still fight, even though the ink of more than half of the writing on your hands and wrists has flaked off, the exhausted runes leaving light burns in their wake.

‘Where’s my staff?’ You mumble, wriggling in his grip. ‘I can still - ’

A hand smooths over your hair, someone coming up behind Jeongin so they can look you in the eyes from where you’re peeking over his shoulder, searching for the familiar oakwood. You blink. It’s Minho, his eyes soft, hair a mess.

‘It’s over, jagiya,’ he murmurs. ‘You don’t have to fight any more. We’re safe now.’

Eventually, his words echo in your head, beginning to register - over, safe now - and you go limp in Jeongin’s arms, burying your face in his shoulder and letting out a damp, shaky breath, hands fisting in his shirt. Your impending heat burns at your core, pulling you this way and that, but the nearness of your alphas grounds you, keeps you tethered to them.

You have just the presence to reach out to Minho, fingers brushing over his side as the healing runes written around the tops of your forearms flare to life, their glow different from the ones intended for attack - they’re the orangey pink of a rising dawn, like tiny suns pulsating beneath your skin. They begin to burn, uncomfortably hot as you heal Minho’s cracked ribs, then Felix’s nose and Han’s swollen black eyes, followed by all the injuries of your alphas that you can with the energy you have spare.

You’re panting by the end of it, drained. You’ve still neglected some of the less serious flesh wounds, but the well inside of you that was full to the brim with potency when you first entered the keep has run dry. If it weren’t for your heat fast approaching, you might have more energy, but you don’t, so that’s what you’re forced to settle with as you close your eyes and try to stop yourself from wriggling too much in Jeongin’s grip.

‘I’ll take her,’ someone says, and you’re being transferred into another’s arms.

Clean linen and cinnamon, crisp and familiar, crashes over you, and you nestle into Jisung’s arms, trying to absorb his body heat as he kisses your face - the urge to nest is beginning to grow stronger, now that the adrenaline from the fight is leaving your system, and he’s so warm.

Somewhere far away, you can hear Felix’s low, comforting voice as he talks to Goemul’s omegas, and Chan’s too, instructing them and pointing them towards the east wing of the keep - you know at some point, they’ll want to talk to you, but for now you rest your chin on Jisung’s shoulder, closing your eyes and leaning your weight against him. Some of them remain in the hall, putting the bodies in neat piles up against the wall to be buried later or tending to anyone with injuries.

‘We’re going to find somewhere for you to nest now, baby,’ Jisung says into your hair. ‘Hyunjinnie is going to take you while we look.’

Another set of arms wraps around you, lean and wiry and smelling like roses and grapefruit but mainly roses, achingly close, strong enough to make you want to cry. He nuzzles at your neck, his long hair tickling your face and collarbones. Part of you is singing, happy only now that you’re surrounded by your alphas, happy that -

Hyunjin’s tongue flicks over your scent gland.

You know he doesn’t mean to set off anything - he does it a lot, just to calm you or show affection, but you’re teetering on the brink, hanging in the balance, and this is what tips you over. Just like that, your first wave of slick comes, and all of a sudden there’s an insistent ache between your legs. You stiffen in his arms.

‘Alpha,’ you whine, voice small.

Around you, you hear rather than see the boys pause. No doubt their instincts are kicking in, already perked up at the heady spike in your scent, telling them to look after their omega and knot and breed and give you pups. There are the other omegas in the room, too, but even they freeze, affected by the possessive twang rolling off each of your alpha’s scents.

Hyunjin shifts just a little against you, and you feel his hardening cock heavy against your hip. A gasp escapes you, and it’s like the sound of it jolts your alphas back up to the present, because they’re moving again, hurrying, in a slight frenzy as they continue to help move the bodies and organise the rest of the omegas.

The fog of your heat is descending, and the rational part of you hates this timing - you need to look after your alphas, tend to their wounds that you couldn’t heal, but the animal part of you clamours over it, making you squirm uncomfortably, pushing Hyunjin away as you spin around, searching for a place to nest. You breath comes out in gasps: you can’t have your heat without a nest, but you don’t know if there are rooms free, if -

A firm hand sweeps up your back, landing on the nape of your neck and holding it, not quite scruffing you but breaking through your rising panic, making you listen. The scent of cocoa and gentle musk overcomes you, and when you look up at Chan, his dark, authority filled eyes pinning you down, another round of slick gushes out of you, and he smiles a little at your response to him.

‘Pack leader,’ you yip, ducking your head. ‘L - leader, alpha - ’

‘You’re going to be okay,’ Chan soothes. ‘Your alphas are here, okay? We’re going to get you to the bed Changbin and Jisung have found for you so you can nest. Just hang in there, omega.’

‘What about the other omegas?’ You ask, struggling to meet his eyes.

‘They’re in the other wing,’ he replies, then preempts your next words. ‘We’ll find new packs for them; we’re not going to replace you, sweetheart. Just let your alphas take care of you, yeah?’

Gently, he takes your hand in his and rubs his thumb along the scent gland at your wrist. A quiet, needy noise tears itself from your throat, and suddenly your legs are buckling - Chan catches you and scoops you up, one hand cradling the back of your head as he carries you through the passages leading from the hall and into the guest wing.

You’re lowered onto the softest mattress you’ve ever felt. It’s funny how all your time trapped in this keep, you never slept on anything but the cold stone floor - but now, your alphas are here, either still in the great hall, here with you or in what you understand is the bathroom next door, and Goemul’s dead, and you’re safe.

Chan kisses your crown and leaves you be for now as you hurriedly arrange the blankets. The bed is huge, wider than you are tall, yet you still crave your nest at home, items of clothing hoarded from your alphas tucked neatly amongst the bedding you’d padded it with - the sheets here are clean, but devoid of smell. It doesn’t compare.

You sit back on your heels. ‘The nest, it’s nowhere near good enough.’

Seungmin appears by your side, rubbing his thumb over the scent gland in your neck, his lips in your hair. ‘No, omega, it’s perfect. You’re perfect.’

The praise relaxes you, calms you, and you melt into his touch, leaning against him and pushing your face into his side, resting your cheek on his bare skin - like the others, he’d surrendered his shirt for your nest without complaint. His touch is feather light as he strokes your hair, and your eyelids droop a little.

Seungmin pecks your lips. ‘You need to sleep now, before your heat fully hits. We’ll all be here when you wake up.’

He watches you lay down, perching on the mattress so you have an alpha close to you while you fall asleep. Yawning, you curl up close to him. This will be the last proper rest you get until the end of your heat.

You close your eyes, the scent of warm embers washing over you.

You wake up sweating.

The ache between your legs has spread upwards and outwards, and you curl into a ball from the pain of it, eyes blurry as you blindly reach your hands out, searching for an alpha. You can hear yourself babbling, begging for a knot, begging to be filled up, because they’re all right there, curled up on the mattress, surrounding you, but they’re all asleep, all eight of them leaving you here in heat on your own, without a knot, and you can’t think beyond the need; you’re going to implode if someone doesn’t -

Sure hands unfurl you, flipping you so you’re spread flat on the mattress. The weight of one of your alphas traps you in place, and you moan, back arching when a hot tongue slides along the column of your throat, halting at your scent gland and sucking the sensitive skin there.

Sweet vanilla rolls over your senses. His teeth bite and suck at your collarbone, and you groan, head all jumbled with need, your body still locked up from the cramps as you fumble with his boxers, urgency rendering you clumsy.

Mercifully, one of your alphas has stripped you down to your underwear while you were sleeping, and you find you don’t even have the time to take them off, instead hooking your leg around Minho’s hip and grinding your throbbing core down on his hardening cock. Lightning pulses through your cunt at the way his lids half close in pleasure, filling you with the need to please your alpha, to be of use to him.

He tears your underwear off with a flick of his wrist. Your pussy is only getting wetter.

Dipping his head, Minho claims your lips, and the brush of his tongue against yours makes your head spin faster than it already is, your hands coming up to tangle with his hair as his hips roll to meet yours.

‘F - fuck,’ you choke out, jolting when Minho sinks two fingers inside you and scissors them.

His lips travel lower to trace down your sternum. ‘Gotta stretch you out for the boys, jagiya.’

You find yourself squirming a little; his fingers are curling, pumping in and out of you at exactly the pace you normally like, but your body is working itself up to the wild throes at the peak of your heat and you need more, so much more. You tell him so, and he chuckles, kissing you again like it’s going to distract you from the way he’s lining himself up at the entrance of your cunt.

Barely the tip of him is in before you’re clenching hard, painfully hard, scrabbling at the bedsheets and crying his name so loud it’s a wonder the boys don’t stir. He licks and sucks at your scent gland, relaxing you until your muscles ease up and he can move - despite all your slick, you still feel the burn of his cock. He’s stretching you out, just like he said he would.

Agonisingly, he pulls out, just to slam back in again, balls deep, punching the air out of your lungs. Minho fucks you roughly, like you need at the start of your heat, his cock reaching so deep inside you you think he might be in your guts - he’s not fast, just so intense that tears are forming on your lash line and you’re panting, fighting for breath.

Then, he’s forcing your legs up onto his shoulders, and the new angle makes you wail, because he’s destroying your cunt in a way that has your thighs shaking and your chest heaving, pleas for more spilling out of you uncontrollably.

Minho has a way of wringing pleasure from you, fucking you so good that you can’t do anything but repeat his name over and over; you feel yourself suspended on the edge, fire licking up your sides, so close, so close, so close -

Mid-thrust, he pauses.

‘Alpha,’ you scream, voice breaking pitifully. ‘Alpha, please - ’

There’s something half sadistic in his eyes when he looks down at you, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, teasing as he enjoys the way you struggle, bucking against him desperately, begging like it’s the only thing you know how to do.

‘Sungie’s woken up from all your noise, omega,’ Minho remarks impassively. ‘Maybe you should give him a hand.’

No sooner has he finished speaking than an achingly hard cock makes its way into your palm, and you cast your teary eyes upward, only half there as you witness Jisung’s head fall back in pleasure when you begin to jerk him, because thank all that is good, Minho’s moving again, tearing you apart and putting you back together with those powerful thrusts of his hips.

He’s hitting that spot inside you, and each time he does, paralysing bolts of pleasure shoot down your spine. Your orgasm crushes you with its magnitude, whiting out your vision, and through it, you blindly beg for his knot, beg him to fill you, beg him to stuff you with load after load.

‘That’s right, omega,’ he grits out. ‘Let it all out for me.’

Tears finally spill over, trickling down your face, the pleasure leaving you rapt, brows drawn together and mouth hanging open, and still he fucks into you; you can feel the slight burn as his knot begins to engorge, and you know he’s so close, so almost filling you up.

Your thoughts grow indistinct the moment Minho spills hot inside you, his knot popping into place and locking you together. Jisung comes not a moment later, letting go with a short cry all over your chest, and if you were not full and happy with Minho’s knot, you’d be fretting about the waste. Instead, you close your eyes and murmur a pleased ‘alpha’, fingers brushing lightly over a bandage on Minho’s arm as the two of them begin to lick the come off you.

You must drift off, because when you resurface, Jisung, Minho and his knot are gone, most likely to the bathroom, and instead you can feel Seungmin’s long fingers working lazily between your legs, just enough to take the edge off the bite of your cramps. He’s got your back propped up against his chest, and you wiggle, bucking your hips up into his touch, inhaling the smell of warm embers.

‘What do you think you’re doing, omega?’

You freeze at the dominance in his tone. Remaining silent, you gaze up at him, wide eyed and head full of cotton as he pins you beneath him, the ravenous look on his face making your neck and cheeks flush. You can feel his cock against your thigh, but he doesn’t allow you to move, doesn’t move himself, just stares down at you, waiting.

Slowly, you tilt your head back, exposing the vulnerable expanse of your throat - a display of utter submission. A low whine escapes you when his breath caresses your skin, his nose brushing against your jugular as he inhales your scent.

‘Good omega,’ Seungmin murmurs. ‘Our omega.’

‘Yours,’ you echo, and this time, he lets you buck against him.

Another hot rush of slick leaves you at the friction of his clothed cock against you, and you gasp his name, rubbing your cheek all over his neck and chest, trying to cover him in your scent. He allows it, letting you press yourself against him, desperation soaking your scent, your hands roaming his body urgently, trying to tell him that you need his knot because all your mouth can seem to do right now is say ‘alpha’, again and again and again.

In one smooth sweep, Seungmin gathers your wrists above your head and pins them there. A sound leaves you, so eager and pathetic that your cheeks flush and you struggle half heartedly against him, but he’s yanking off his boxers and running his fingers through your folds to transfer your arousal and make sure his dick will be wet enough. If you stay still, you think you might die.

Yet another round of slick is pouring from you. He chuckles, seeing your cunt clench as he spits in his hand and wraps his fingers around his cock - you know he’s doing it to taunt you. Whoever goes first always makes sure you’re prepped.

‘Ready for my knot, omega?’ Seungmin coos. ‘Think you can take it?’

‘Yes,’ you whine. ‘Yes, alpha, yes, give it to me, I can, I can - ’

Your mouth snaps shut when he thrusts into you, your eyes widening and back arching as thrill after thrill races up your spine, making your cunt bear down on him, squeezing him tight and greedily sucking him in further. The moment he starts moving, you know he’s not going to go easy on you.

Seungmin is going to make you earn it.

He releases your hands, letting you grab onto him as he fucks into you, fast, unrelenting. Almost sly, his fingers drag down your stomach so he can rub them over your clit in tight circles - your pussy flutters in response, clamping down on him. A muttered curse escapes him; you can feel every muscle of his back taut under your grip, the vein in his neck beginning to strain, yet all he does is go harder.

Something within you buckles. Not a second later, you come, clenching around his cock, squeezing him so tight he’s forced to grind into you further, your cunt refusing to let him pull out. You expect him to ease up, give you a moment to rest but he continues the moment he can, unforgiving.

Overstimulation sears at you, cutting through the cloudiness fogging your brain, and you yawp, scrabbling at Seungmin’s back, thighs jumping with every drag of his cock against your walls as you rake your nails against his skin in a way that must be hurting his battered, not quite healed body, but he doesn’t shake you off, doesn’t seem to mind.

‘Stop thrashing if you want your alpha’s knot,’ he snarls.

‘W - want it,’ you babble, trying to stay still for him. ‘Need it so bad, alpha.’

‘Then take it.’

He punctuates his words with deep rolls of his hips, and this time you can’t not move, because the pads of his fingers are back on your clit, torturous, creating friction so impossibly blissful that it hurts, and he’s hammering his dick into you, so quick that you can’t form words any more, and then - and then -

Once again, you come, and he slams his knot inside you.

Your back bows, your fingers twisting into the sheets until someone grabs your hand and squeezes it as tightly you are squeezing theirs. It’s not Seungmin’s, you realise - his are too busy propping him up, holding him above you. Turning your head to the side, you smile: it’s Minho, half asleep with his eyes almost closed and a silly little grin on his face.

Huffing, his breath ruffling your hair, Seungmin pokes at your face, bringing your attention back to him. You tip your head up and fit your lips to his, a warm, happy buzz engulfing you now that you’re full, and he lowers himself on top of you so you can lie there together, joined by his knot nestled inside your sated cunt as sleep tugs you both under.

You wake up to cacao and musk, lips closed over your scent gland, gently sucking. Whatever Seungmin’s knot and the orgasms he plucked from you did to appease your heat have worn off, and fast, because you’re sweating all over, hips moving against the firmness below you and you don’t know where you are, just that there are hands on your body and a mouth on your neck keeping back the flames.

‘Leader,’ you mewl, half crazy on his scent. ‘Alpha, need your knot,’

‘I’ve got you,’ Chan croons. ‘Alpha’s got you.’

It begins to dawn on you that you’re straddling his lap, grinding down frantically on his thigh, his hands cool where they coast over your burning skin, smoothing circles over your back. Taking your chin in his fingers, he tilts your face up until you’re looking at him. The moment you meet his eyes, you still, hips hovering over his.

‘You going to behave for me, omega?’

You nod so hard it hurts your neck. ‘Yes, alpha, so good, so good for you. Promise.’

‘Sweet girl,’ he coos. ‘My omega.’

Leaving trails of goosebumps behind, Chan’s hands slide down your torso, down to caress the curves of your hips, down to right where you need him. There’s a moment where he just holds your cunt, fingers pressing between your folds until you break and rock against the heel of his palm, chasing away the building pressure between your legs in favour of momentary relief, wobbly voiced pleas rushing from you as your slick soaks him to the wrist.

Nosing at your throat, he laves his tongue over your scent gland, one hand coming round to grip your ass as he positions you closer to him. When he looks up at you, you see the same haze that blankets your mind clouding his eyes - you must be nearing the peak of your heat for your scent to affect him so. He’s barely holding himself back.

‘Okay?’ He verifies. ‘Can take it?’

‘Y - yes, yes,’ you reply, grinding your hips down despite his steady grip on you, searching for his cock.

That’s all it takes for him to lurch upwards, sheathing himself in your heat like it was made for him. The remainder of the sentence on your tongue dissolves into a keening moan, your lips falling open, eyes unfocused and rolled back; he gives you barely a second to adjust to his thickness before he’s pounding into you, holding you in place above him with his nails digging into the flesh of your ass.

You grab at his broad shoulders, needing something to anchor you with the way he’s jerking your whole body up and down with every punishing thrust. Chan’s fucking up into you like he wants you to forget your own name, like he wants you to forget everything but the surge of his cock through your spasming walls; he’s got you dumb, mouth agape, the sounds that leave you wordless but pleading.

It’s as if your senses have narrowed to the giddying scent of your alpha and the promise of his knot in the snap of his hips against yours - you can’t think of anything else.

Dimly, you realise he’s speaking between the sloppy kisses he adorns your neck and chest with, groaning and mumbling against your skin as his teeth nip at your scent gland, stimulating you in a way that brings century old instincts to the surface - it has you shuddering, nails buried into the meat of his biceps as you twist your head back to bare your throat to your alpha.

‘Good omega,’ he’s gasping, words slurred, reaching so deep inside you all you can do is take it. ‘Made for me, omega - fuck, fuck, squeezing me so well - gonna give you my knot, sweetheart, give you my pups, gotta breed you, gonna - ’

Chan moans so loud it’s almost a howl, slamming you down on his cock to the hilt one last time, fingers furiously working your clit. The hot spill of his seed yanks you unceremoniously over the edge, and you feel your pussy constrict around his knot - he hisses at the feel of it, his chest, mottled with bruises, heaving as he comes down from the high, eyes beginning to focus on you.

Fuck, he looks good, all sweaty and panting and still a bit dazed, his curls ruffled and a dumb little blissed out smile plastered on his face. Tugging you close, he lets his forehead fall against your collarbones, pushing his face between your tits - you giggle as he sighs happily into their plushness, tucking your arms around him and holding him close, sated and so incredibly, wonderfully full.

‘So good for me, sweetheart,’ he mumbles, voice muffled against your skin.

You preen at his words, and his hands move up from where they were splayed out on your back to stroke your hair, smoothing it down and untangling some of the knots with his fingers. Curling up as much as you can in this position, you lean your head on Chan’s shoulder, basking in the reassuring presence of your alpha.

Something warm presses against your leg, and you look down to see Jeongin, balled up facing Seungmin with his back pushed up against the length of your thigh, his angular face softened in sleep. Grinning, you brush a hand over his cheek, and he stirs, humming drowsily before settling again.

A hand rubs at the small of your back, and you turn to see that Felix has woken up. Despite the fact that his blonde hair is mussed and he’s squinting against the light of the torches in the sconces on the walls, he’s smiling sweetly at you, gaze bright and soft.

‘Felix, please could you grab that for me?’ Chan’s gesturing to a small platter on the bedside table.

Clambering over a slumbering Minho and Jisung and almost tripping up on Changbin’s outstretched leg, he retrieves it and hands it to Chan, who supports you with a hand on your waist so you can sit back and tuck into the slices of bread and cheese on the plate. You hadn’t realised how hungry you were until now - your stomach rumbles at just the smell of the food.

Through a mouthful, you beam. ‘Thanks, Lix.’

He leans over Changbin to kiss you sweetly, filling your nose with the scent of violets and sunshine. ‘Once Chan’s knot goes down I’ll take you to the bath, okay?’

‘Yes, please,’ you reply. ‘I’m all sticky.’

‘My bad,’ Chan chuckles, rubbing his hands up and down your sides and making your brain all fuzzy.

By the time you’ve finished the food, Chan’s knot has come down enough to slip out of you - both of you groan when he pulls out, his come rolling down your thighs. You glance over at Felix and see him watching, and when you look down you can see he’s semi hard and sending you a sheepish grin.

A great yawn splits your face in half, and you stretch your cramped legs as you shuffle awkwardly off the bed, pausing to give Chan a kiss before he scoots down and tugs the blanket over him, nuzzling close to Jeongin. Lifting you up, Felix carries you to the bathroom - Hyunjin looks up from where he’s perched on a rickety wooden stool in the corner, holding something delicately in his hands and smirking.

‘That cavewoman omega in you really likes it when Chan fucks you like that, huh?’

You roll your eyes. ‘Go on and pretend you weren’t hard.’

‘Why are you holed up in here, anyway?’ Felix asks as he helps you into the wooden tub.

‘Changbin was rolling around in his sleep,’ he shrugs. ‘Didn’t want to stab him.’

Proudly, Hyunjin holds up the piece of wood he’s been whittling - it’s a lovely piece of limewood, light and creamy in colour, and it must be a maquette for a sword hilt he’s planning on making, because it’s carved with whorls and flowing arches, as if the wood itself is malleable clay in his skilled hands.

‘I like it,’ Felix says as he helps soap your back. ‘It’s pretty.’

Hyunjin gives him a look. ‘Of course.’

You chuckle. ‘Yeah, Felix, when did he ever make something that wasn’t pretty?’

‘Hey, what about that time when - ’

‘No, it was pretty, you just - ’

Closing your eyes, you listen to the two of them bicker playfully, relishing the warmth of the water and the way it eases your sore muscles - you want to enjoy the momentary lucidity. You’re still somewhere in the highest intensity of your heat, and soon your body is going to want a knot again, even after having Chan’s so recently.

Right on queue, as if just thinking about it sets it off, your scent spikes, and you feel a wave of slick spill from you - it goes straight into the water, but both Hyunjin and Felix fall silent anyway, sensing your need from a mile away.

There’s a moment of silence, and then Hyunjin drags his stool closer to the tub.

Without further delay, Felix shucks off his boxers and climbs in. The water swills but doesn’t spill over, and he takes your chin and kisses you softly, careful not to lean too much of his weight on you; the moment he pulls back, Hyunjin is there, swiping his thumb over your bottom lip before pushing it into your mouth, and you moan around him when you feel the nudge of Felix’s cock head at your entrance.

All three of you groan when he slides in, and you turn your head to the side, unsurprised to see Hyunjin’s slender fingers curling around his cock, his carving abandoned to the side - your eyes glide upwards, locking on his as you suck on his thumb, still resting against your lips, and he visibly picks up his pace, face twisting in pleasure.

Hiding his face into your damp neck, Felix groans, low and deep, thrusting his hips forward until they kiss yours, so close that his pubic bone grinds over your clit. He fucks into you slowly and tenderly, and as he does, Hyunjin hooks his thumb under your chin and crams three of his fingers into your mouth up to the knuckle, grunting when your tongue swirls over them.

You’re still sensitive from Chan, maybe even from the two orgasms Seungmin coaxed from you, and the way Felix’s cock drags through you is driving you insane - almost as much as the praise they’re both showering upon you and the pump of Hyunjin’s fingers in and out of your mouth. Water is sloshing over the sides of the tub with each movement, and it’s as if you’re floating aimlessly, muscles lax and surrounded all over by this warmth.

Hyunjin comes first.

It’s Felix that sets him off: kissing you over the fingers buried in your mouth, his tongue sliding over them before he licks at your lower lip, sucking it into his mouth, and suddenly Hyunjin’s coming with a gasp, wrenching Felix off your front by his shoulder so he can spill over the part of your chest that’s above the water.

That’s what makes you come.

The sight of Hyunjin bent double over you and Felix, jerking himself until he’s spent and then some to overstimulate himself, the hand that had been in your mouth gripping the side of the tub so hard his knuckles run white - it’s too much. Your pussy convulses around Felix, and only then do you find your words, gasping that you need a knot, begging for his come.

It’s all too easy for him to give you what you want - more water splashes out of the tub and straight onto the bathroom floor as he seats his knot inside you, plugging his seed in so not a drop is wasted. He flops over you, panting.

‘I didn’t expect it to come back so fast,’ you remark as the three of you catch your breath.

‘So much for the bath,’ Felix laughs. ‘Maybe we should draw another one.’

The next time you open your eyes, it hits you full force. The ache in your core is so intense that all you can do is flail, thrashing and writhing and crying, all tangled up in the blankets which are soaked with your sweat and twisted around your legs, all tangled up in the consuming flames of your heat. There are warm bodies all around you; you can hear their breathing, but none of them are responding, and fuck it hurts -

This can’t be happening again -

You squeak in alarm as someone manhandles you onto your front so quickly that your head spins, holding your arms down so you can barely move - you’re grinding desperately down on the mattress, and you can feel the sheets beneath you grow wet with your slick.

‘Stay still, omega,’ a voice growls. ‘You’re going to push someone off the bed if you don’t.’

‘Alpha?’ You whimper, rubbing your thighs together. ‘It’s not enough, please - ’

‘Binnie’s here,’ he soothes, tone gentler now. ‘Binnie’s going to take care of you, okay? Hands and knees for me, omega.’

Tears of relief trickle down your face and seep into the cloth beneath you - Jeongin’s shirt. You scramble to obey your alpha’s command, only halting when Changbin pulls you in for a quick kiss that leaves you dizzy, as if he sucked the air from your lungs and replaced it with pure, unadulterated need. Squeezing your ass, he fucking bullies you into position, manoeuvring you until you’re face down, ass up.

You fist the sheets in your hands, trying to stay still but he’s taking his damn time. Arching your back, you push back on him, feverish, reduced to the urges of your idiot omega brain that you can’t ignore for the life of you. Your thighs are trembling as he lines himself up, your breath coming out in harsh pants.

With a harsh stab of his hips, he ploughs into you.

You wait for him to move, wait for him to fucking destroy you, but he doesn’t; he just holds himself there, infuriating, playing with you, and you’re wailing and trying to push back onto him more but he’s got you in his iron grip and then he’s cracking a hand down on your ass and you howl and finally -

Finally he’s moving.

Changbin is railing into you, unrelenting. You’re clenching so hard around him, desperate for his knot that your vision keeps blanking out, your voice breaking as you call his name, and surely it’s waking up the boys, but you don’t really care because you need him, need -

‘Need it, alpha,’ you sob, ‘Need it.’

‘I know, omega,’ he grits out. ‘Let your alpha take care of you.’

And then he gives you all you ask. He gives it to you, alright. He gives it to you so that the slick is running out of you and down your twitching thighs, he gives it to you so you’re hoarse from screaming his name - he gives it to you until you feel all limp and boneless beneath him, and still he draws you out, drilling into you like he was born to do it.

Just when you think he might be satisfied, Changbin hooks a hand under your arm and pulls you upright, pinning you against his chest and hitting a new, cataclysmic angle inside you; roughly, he bites down on the spot where you shoulder and neck meet, and his hands come up to cup your tits, pinching your nipples and sending jolts of pleasure through you. He’s fucking up into you endlessly and you can’t even remember if you came already because he’s got you drowning in ecstasy, losing yourself in it.

And then his fingers are on your clit.

You can feel his knot, pressing against your core, so close, so close.

Inside your stomach, something pulls up tight, and you come so hard everything goes black.

You come to about half a minute later, cradled against Changbin’s chest, his knot safely within your cunt, satisfying you, and he’s hugging you to him, kissing every inch of your sweat coated skin that he can reach. He shifts against you when he senses you waking, nuzzling against your scent gland as he kisses a hickey on your neck - most likely from Minho.

‘Are you okay?’ Changbin asks. ‘Did I go too hard?’

‘No,’ you reply drowsily. ‘Was good. So good.’

Your hand meets his, and you smile a little as you twine your fingers together. The scent of roses and grapefruit fills your nose, and you close your eyes at the feel of Hyunjin nestling closer to you, sandwiching you between him and Changbin, your breathing slowing as you drift off.

You’re woken by a puff of air against your clit. Hyunjin chuckles when the muscles in your thigh jitter at the feel of it, looking up at you from where he sprawls between your legs, grinning like he wants to devour you. Whatever you’re lying on rocks to the side, and you bleat in alarm and narrowly catch yourself, glancing over your shoulder to find that your head was resting on Jeongin’s chest, who is now smirking at you, eyes glittering mischievously.

The feeling of two alphas looking like they might eat you does something to your cunt that has Hyunjin transfixed. He licks his lips and you get the distinct sense that he might accidentally pop a knot too soon if he isn’t careful.

‘You two look like you’re plotting something,’ you mumble, trying to ignore the attention your pussy is demanding.

‘Yeah,’ Jeongin confirms casually. ‘Hyunjin’s going to go down on you and I’m going to fuck your mouth.’

‘Oh,’ you say, and this time you can’t ignore the way you clench around nothing.

Hyunjin groans, and you feel the mattress dip a little as he grinds into it. He buries a finger into your fluttering heat, cursing under his breath, and your eyes widen as Jeongin props your head up with a pillow and straddles your chest, his flushed cock nudging your lips. Your tongue darts out, flicking against his head, and he adjusts himself so he’s kneeling over you.

Opening your mouth, you take him as far as you can, and almost like he’s rewarding you for it, Hyunjin’s lips close around your clit. Surprised, you yelp around Jeongin’s length, hips bucking into Hyunjin’s face of their own accord; in response, another finger is eased into your core and you suck in a sharp breath of air.

That’s the moment Jeongin chooses to thrust shallowly into your mouth. You gag and get embarrassingly close to coming - Hyunjin lifts his head, feeling your weeping pussy seize his fingers.

‘She liked that,’ he remarks.

You don’t even get to reply because there’s an alpha cock fucking itself down your throat, surrounding you with the scent of mint and lavender. You’re not sure when you moved your hands but now they’re curled under the backs of his thighs, your nails sinking into his skin as he uses your mouth, and he’s got your hair fisted in his fingers for better leverage - even through the haze of your heat you can see his knuckles are still swollen and cut up from the fight.

He must have been pretty wound up because you can feel him tensing under your palms, curses flowing from his lips as he wrenches himself out of your mouth and basically shoves Hyunjin out of the way. There’s a moment where you’re painfully empty, bereft of Hyunjin’s nimble fingers, and then Jeongin slams his cock inside you, rutting into you once, twice, before he comes, his knot swelling within you and filling you up.

‘So good for us, omega,’ Hyunjin coos, appearing at your side.

Cupping your chin, he kisses you and you can taste yourself on him as he licks into your mouth, tangling his tongue with yours. Jeongin pushes him to the side, grumbling and barging him with his shoulder so he can press his lips to your scent gland, sucking a love bite just below it, his teeth grazing over your skin. You giggle at the look on Hyunjin’s face, cute and pouty despite the fact that you can feel his cock, stiff and leaking precum all over your thigh.

While you wait for Jeongin’s knot to go down, the two of them take turns kissing you, Hyunjin sometimes sneaking kisses to Jeongin too. It’s like you’re in heaven: stuffed full and content, with two alphas paying their utmost attention to you.

Finally, Jeongin eases out, and you feel the hot spill of his come - and maybe some of Changbin’s too - ooze from your stretched out pussy. He scoops up as much of it as he can and pushes it right back in, licking his fingers after: your body is wracked by a shiver at the sight, cunt aching to be filled again.

‘Need another load?’ Hyunjin teases, seeing the hungry look in your eyes.

‘Get on with it already, alpha,’ you snark back.

Eagerly, Hyunjin slots himself between your legs, gliding his cock head through your folds a few times before he plunges in. It shuts you up, fast. Throwing his head back, he groans, just a little louder than the wet, sucking sounds your pussy makes as he begins to move; there’s come slopping out of you with each thrust, smearing over the tops of your thighs and his, and he fucks it right back into you until you’re keening, bucking into him.

‘Shit,’ he moans. ‘Keep on fucking doing that, sweet omega.’

Breathless, you obey, rolling your hips to meet his so fervently that your muscles begin to burn, but it’s the good kind, the type of sensation that comes before your legs lock up, trembling uncontrollably as pleasure hits you so hard you go limp.

Pinching and rubbing at your clit in a way that is glorious, Hyunjin dips his head, giving you another kiss that tastes like you, and suddenly, at the touch of his lips to yours, you’re coming, shaking so hard that you’re shaking him. He groans your name, hands tangling in your hair to hold your face to his, and he travels a little lower to mouth at the hollow of your throat.

‘Taking me so well,’ he rasps. ‘Fitting around me just right, omega.’

A little jolt of lightning shoots through you as he lurches a little further into your cunt, coming, and there’s already so much seed inside you that a little bit seeps out around his knot, fat drops slipping down your skin. Sighing contentedly, you stretch your arms above your head as Hyunjin rests his head on your chest. You can feel the dull pain of your heat receding, giving way to a hint of lucidity, and now that the adrenaline is leaving your system, you start to feel aches flaring up all over your body.

Lifting your head, you keep a hand on the back of Hyunjin’s head so he doesn’t slide off you as you search for the familiar scent of clean linen and cinnamon, craning your neck as you twist to check he’s not among the boys dozing on the mattress around you. Just before you call out his name, the door to the room opens, and he walks in, cheeks full with some food he must have raided from the keep’s storeroom.

Jisung sees your face and immediately strides over. ‘Feeling okay, omega?’

You nod. ‘I think it’s almost passed.’

A stab of guilt punches through you. Jisung’s waited his turn, and there’s a chance that if you fall asleep now, you’ll wake up and find your heat has broken. He must smell the worry on your scent, because he leans forward and tucks some of your tangled hair behind your ear.

‘It’s okay, jagi,’ he reassures. ‘This is about you. Rest now.’

You’re already dreaming by the time he finishes his sentence.

‘Are you sure?’ Jisung clarifies again, even though you’re certain he can still smell the lingering honey of your heat on your scent.

‘Yes, alpha,’ you huff, unable to hide the petulance in your voice.

He raises an eyebrow.

‘Please,’ you whine. ‘Need your knot, Ji, please, alpha.’

‘Okay, but you tell me if you’re too sensitive, alright?’

You nod, already bucking your hips which succeeds to do nothing but drag his cock head through your folds. You’d woken up surrounded by Jisung’s crisp linen and cinnamon scent, the low burning need for a knot clawing at your insides, subdued at least by the seven other knots you’ve taken but still insistent enough that you needed Jisung inside you.

A wretched cry leaves you as he seats his cock inside you - he pauses, throwing his head back, biting his lips to stifle a moan - and you feel him twitch from within your squeezing walls. You’re not surprised; he’s been stuck in a keep with his omega’s scent rubbed all over him, the mattress and his pack mates, driving him crazy.

‘Fucking hell, omega,’ he mumbles, nuzzling at your face before he kisses you. ‘Don’t know how long I’m gonna last.’

Jisung begins to move, slowly but deep, a little smile pulling at his lips as he looks you right in the eyes, lacing his fingers with yours where they rest on the pillows beneath your head. He’s gentle, aware that you’re sore, pressing feather light kisses to the hickeys decorating your skin - some of which you don’t even remember exactly who gave to you, your memories clouded by your heat - and slowing his pace if your face screws up or your fingers tighten too hard on his.

Wrapping your legs around his trimmed waist, you pull him closer, crossing your ankles at the small of his back. His hand trails down and begins to rub steadily at your clit, and you feel the stirrings of heaven beginning to rouse within you: your toes curl, and a drawn out whine escapes from your throat, urging him onwards.

Jisung’s fingers speed up on your clit. ‘Come for me, omega.’

You keen as shockwaves run through you, leaving you spent, out of breath, pussy raw. Fractionally, Jisung slows the pace he’s thrusting into you, whispering sweet nothings onto your lips like prayers - your fingers sweep through his soft hair, the rest of your body limp against the mattress as you gaze up at him, eyes glazed.

‘Alpha,’ you whimper - it’s all you have the energy for.

‘Shit, omega - ’

Jisung cums with a gasp, knot locking into place as he trembles above you, trying to control the way he rocks his hips , grinding himself impossibly deeper into you. A tear slips down your cheek and he licks it off, the tender look in his eyes leaving you all melty in his arms.

Your pussy flutters around him, constricting around his knot as he carefully rolls the two of you over for you to lie on his chest, legs curled up either side of him so you can soak up the feel of his skin against yours. His arms wrap around you, and another hand, calloused from hours working in the smithy, brushes over your back before lips press against your shoulder blade.

‘How’s she doing?’ Chan whispers.

‘Good,’ you hum, answering for Jisung and cracking your eyes open a millimetre. ‘Really good. Really tired, too.’

He chuckles. ‘I’m not surprised, sweetheart.’

Minho speaks up, saying something that makes Jisung’s wide chest vibrate beneath your ear with a quiet laugh, but you don’t really hear it at all - your brain feels like it’s made out of cotton, and your limbs feel light and airy, Jisung’s skin so soft it’s as if you’re floating on a cloud.

‘Love you, alpha,’ you murmur.

You don’t clarify, and they don’t ask, but they know you mean each and every one of them.

When you next rouse yourself, you’re fully lucid, and Changbin’s shouting at someone from inside the bathroom. Groaning, you rub your eyes, and a low, tired throb emanates from between your legs - solid proof that your alphas took care of you through your heat, like they always do. You remember it: most of it vividly, some of it in flashes.

Flopping your arms out, you’re met with unpleasantly cold sheets. A frown furrows your brow and you lift your head - now that you’re shaking off the last dregs of your heat and the long sleep that has left a small bit of drool on the pillow beneath your head, you can faintly hear your pack’s voices. From what it sounds, most of them are in the corridor or the great hall, and you can just about pick up other voices too: the omegas you rescued.

You can also hear Changbin, clear as day, muttering grumpily to himself. Snickering, you listen closer, catching something about Seungmin, that little shit and damn towel. You open your mouth, ready to call out to him -

‘Seungmin!’ He yells, so loud you jump. ‘I know you can hear me! Where’s my towel?’

With a groan, you heave yourself upright and pull on the first shirt available: immediately, Jisung’s scent wraps tight around you. Choking on a laugh that you fail to stifle, you shuffle to the edge of the bed and climb off, taking pity on Changbin, while - rolling his eyes so hard it looks like there’s someone behind them pulling them with strings - Seungmin bursts through the bedroom door.

Just in time to see your legs buckle.

He darts across the room and manages to break your fall as you crumple to the floor, muscles protesting. Unfortunately, you manage to take him down with you and he laughs, loud enough for Changbin to hear it and think he’s the one getting made fun of, but with a mischievous spark dancing in his eyes that you know is aimed at you.

‘You’re acting as if you didn’t contribute to this,’ you retort, attempting to pull yourself up.

There’s a steady burning in your thighs, and once you’re upright, you’re wobbling like a newborn calf. Seungmin snorts, knocking you backwards onto the bed and kissing you, fending off your hands as you attempt to punch him in the ribs. Eventually, he lets up, mostly because Changbin has started screeching threats from inside the bathroom that can be heard over your giggled protests.

He sorts out his mussed hair. ‘I don’t regret contributing whatsoever. In fact, I enjoyed it.’

‘You’re always so smug after knotting me, huh?’ You send him a rude gesture.

‘As if you didn’t - ’

‘Seungmin, I swear - ’

Both of you giggle, and Changbin splutters, hearing your laughter. Still chuckling, Seungmin scoops you up in his arms and retrieves a towel that’s been stowed behind one of the pillows, taking his time to open the bathroom door and hand it back to him. Seeing Changbin, his damp hair hanging over his eyes as he grumbles at the two of you, unable to fulfil his threats with Seungmin using you as a human shield, sets the two of you off again.

The sound of your laughter attracts your other alphas. They file into the room, and Chan smiles fondly as he sees you Seungmin’s arms. Jeongin walks over and nuzzles his face into your hair, kissing your earlobe and pausing there.

‘Legs out of commission after being fucked too good, huh?’

‘Jeongin,’ you hiss, slapping his arm. Seungmin has the audacity to high five him.

Chan attempts to hide a laugh. ‘I’m going to ignore that.’

‘Well, you better not ignore Seungmin stealing and hiding my towel,’ Changbin mutters.

Seungmin laughs again, and you get passed to Jeongin while he wards off Changbin, who is still clad in just a towel. Warmth fills you - it’s good to have your boys happy and playful after seeing them taken and hurt by Goemul. You’re whole again now that you’ve got them back.

Eventually, the two of them calm down, and Chan smiles at you in a way that makes your heart swell and overflow in your chest.

‘Ready to go home, omega?’

taglist: @0bticeo @hyunjinsjeans @sleepyleeji @milkslovehotel

fyi: goemul = monster in korean

642 notes · View notes

alxtiny · 3 months ago

Text

Ad Astra per Aspera

Episode 1

Pairing: Pirate!Ateez x Navigator!reader

Genre: pirate!au, fluff, angst, maybe smut

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: blood, blunt trauma to the head, starvation, improper jokes, hate able characters

Notes: lets see if y’all can guess who is who >.<

Playlist : asleep by the smiths | the great gig in the sky by pink floyd | under the water by aurora

Series Masterlist | Episode 2 | Prologue

"Move it, slave!” a gruff voice barked behind you, “I ain't got time for yer dainty little walk," you felt the crude shove of a sword poke into your back, the dirty steel pressing through the thin fabric of your shirt like an icicle. You stumbled forward, almost tripping over the uneven planks of the dock.

"Stop poking me!" You exclaimed, spinning around to glare at your tormentor. The chains binding your arms come up to shield your body. Your eyes were bright with fury. "I told you already, I am not a slave. I am a navigator, and I am getting on your infernal ship of my own volition. Take me to your captain; I have a deal to—"

"Quit runnin' yer mouth, lass, or I'll run you through with my sword," the crewman growled, clumsily swishing his blade around, making his inexperience known. His breath reeked of stale ale and rotting teeth, a look of disgust plastered itself across your face. His sword came to rest under your chin, pushing your face up. Exasperated, you raised your hands in mock surrender.

"Alright, alright," you muttered, rolling your eyes. With a resigned sigh, you dragged yourself up the gangplank, your boots clattering against the rough wood. The unimpressive ship seemed to loom above you menacingly, its sails furled and its deck swarming with activity.

The ship’s deck was a cesspool of filth and debauchery. Men lounged about in various states of drunkenness, their eyes glazed and their movements sluggish. The stench of unwashed bodies and rancid skin mingled with the salty spray of the sea, creating a miasma that made you gag. You could feel a dozen pairs of eyes on yourself, leering and appraising, as if you were nothing more than a piece of meat.

Around you, other women were being herded aboard, their faces pale and eyes wide with fear. Some were weeping, clutching at their tattered dresses, while others stared blankly ahead, in acceptance of their fate. Your stomach churned with a mix of disgust and anger. It was a slave trader’s ship. You had been foolish, utterly foolish, to let yourself be tricked into coming here.

It had all started at the pub, a dimly lit hole-in-the-wall frequented by sailors and all that. You had been celebrating a successful voyage, your pockets heavy with the gold you had earned as a navigator. A group of men had approached you, claiming they so desperately needed your skills to guide their ship through such treacherous waters. It stoked your ego of course, you couldn’t resist.

But it had all been a lie. They had swindled you, drugged your unguarded drink, and taken you prisoner. You had awoken, bound and gagged, surrounded by the same men who now leered at you from the ship’s deck. The gold was all gone, except a few coins you had kept hidden in your boots. You clenched your fists, cursing your own naivety.

The crewman prodded at your back again, forcing you to keep moving. You glaring back at him, he laughed as if this was all just a fun game. He was a squat, greasy man with a pockmarked face, a half shaven beard and a cruel glint in his eye. His clothes were dirty and ill-fitting, and sweat dripped down the sides of his face.

"Where’s the captain?" You demanded, your voice trembling with barely contained rage. "I want to speak to him now."

The crewman snorted, a sound that was more pig than human. "You don't make demands here, lass. You do as you're told, or you'll end up in the bilge with the rats." He grabbed your arm, his fingers digging into your flesh, and dragged you towards the stern of the ship.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you were marched through the ship's dingy corridors, the air thick with the smell of salt and rotting wood. The two burly crewmen escorting you, stopped before a large, ornately carved door. One of them knocked twice, and a muffled voice from within barked for them to enter.

You were pushed into the room, stumbling over the threshold. The interior was a stark contrast to the squalor of the rest of the ship. Rich tapestries lined the walls, and the floor was covered with a plush, but stained, rug. At the far end of the room, behind a desk cluttered with a pile of maps and papers, and an even higher pile of dirty cutlery, sat the captain.

He was an unimposing figure in terms of height but made up for it in girth. His ample belly strained against the buttons of a once-white shirt now stained with the remnants of countless meals. Various condiments had left their mark, creating a painting of greasy splotches. His bald head glistened under the lamplight, a poorly matched toupee perched precariously atop his head. A smattering of fake gold jewellery adorned his fingers and neck, clinking as he moved.

The ‘captain’ looked up from his desk, a lecherous grin spreading across his bloated face. His small, beady eyes raked over you, lingering with a predatory gleam. "Well, well, what have we here?" he slurred, his voice thick with the effects of cheap alcohol.

You could barely suppress a shudder of disgust. The smell of rot and smoke wafted towards you as he rose from his chair, his movements slow and ungainly. He waddled closer, his breath heavy with the scent of decay. You took an involuntary step back, your skin crawling as he reached out to cup your chin with his pudgy fingers.

"Oh yess," he crooned, his voice dripping with false sweetness. "A rare beauty indeed. You'll fetch a pretty penny, my dear. Or perhaps... you might be of use to me in other ways." His grip tightened, and you winced as his grimy nails bit into your skin.

"I am a navigator," you said through gritted teeth, trying to keep your voice steady. "Not a commodity to be sold or used. If you have any sense, you'll let me do my job and not treat me like chattel."

The man threw back his head, a shrill laugh erupting from his throat. His greasy face twisted into a cruel grin, his yellowed teeth bared like a predator toying with its prey.

"Oh please," he scoffed, shaking his head. "A woman as a navigator? As if." He turned slightly, gesturing to the room around him, where the other men chuckled in agreement. "Women are bad luck on ships. You're lucky you're being sold, girl. With your looks, some rich man might buy you. Keep you as a little whore, maybe."

His mocking tone made your blood boil. You clenched your fists, feeling the heat rise in your chest, but you forced yourself to maintain composure. He was trying to provoke you, belittle you, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of crumbling under his words.

"Bad luck? You’re the one who's unlucky," you snapped, lifting your chin defiantly. "I’ve navigated through storms worse than your ship can survive and waters darker than that stain on your shirt. Without someone like me, you'd be lucky to avoid running aground before dawn. Sell me off if you want, but it'll be your loss when you're stranded out there with nothing but your ignorance and superstitions."

His eyes darkened, the amusement in them turning cold as he stepped closer, his breath rancid against your face. He laughed again, quieter this time, but more sinister.

"You've got fire," he sneered. "But fire snuffs out quick at sea. And I don’t need some chit telling me how t’ run my ship." He tilted his head, considering you for a moment, before his lips twisted into a nasty smirk. "Tell you what. Since you're so eager to prove your worth... If you can lead me and my crew to the next port—alive—I’ll consider giving you a job."

You felt a flicker of hope, but it was quickly snuffed out by his next words.

"Not that I believe for a second you can," he continued, gesturing dismissively to one of his men. "Put her in the chart room. Give her the old maps and tools. Let's see what she can do with those rusty relics."

His men seized you roughly by the arms and dragged you down a narrow corridor. The stench of mildew filled the air as they threw open the door to a small, dimly lit room. It was more of a storage closet than a proper chart room. Tattered maps lay strewn across a dust-covered table, their edges crumbling from age. Instruments sat in a pile on the floor, as if someone threw them in and forgot about them eons ago. It was an insult to your craft.

The door slammed shut behind you, and you were left in the damp silence. You glared at the mess in front of you, wiping your hands on your pants as you surveyed the room. Some of the instruments were so worn they might not even function properly anymore.

"These fools wouldn’t know how to chart a course if their fucking lives depended on it," you muttered under your breath, grabbing the least-damaged map from the pile. Your hands shook as you unfurled it, your mind already racing to piece together what little you could.

Your eyes traced the faded lines, the names of ancient ports barely legible. But you had no choice. You needed to find a way to navigate this ship to safety—not just for yourself, but because proving them wrong had become more than just a matter of pride.

Hours passed as you pored over the charts, plotting a course that would take them through the least dangerous waters. You marked out safe harbours and potential hazards, making notes on a scrap of parchment. By the time you finished, your head was pounding and your eyes were heavy with fatigue.

You leaned back in the rickety chair, staring up at the ceiling. The ship creaked and groaned around you, the sound of waves lapping against the hull felt like a little man hammering away into your skull. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself a moment of rest. You knew that the coming days would be difficult, but you were quite determined to survive, to find a way out of this hellhole.

As the ship rocked gently on the waves, you drifted off to sleep, your dreams filled with visions of making way to faraway shores.

Over the course of the next two weeks, you poured every ounce of your skill and determination into navigating the ship through open waters and rapidly changing currents. The vast expanse of the open sea stretched out before you, a canvas of endless blue under the watchful eye of the sun and moon, and the occasional dark clouds that wept above you. You worked tirelessly, plotting courses, adjusting sails, and ensuring the ship stayed on a safe path. You had already saved them from a deadly storm and a series of hidden reefs, but despite your invaluable contributions, you were more like a prisoner than a respected navigator.

Every night, you could feel the disgusting gazes of the revolting crewmen following you around as you moved about the deck, their crude catcalls and whistles echoing through the darkness. Their words, filled with suggestive taunts and vulgarity, went on with a break. You were tired of it all. You would quicken your pace, doing your best to avoid their lustful stares, but the feeling of being watched never left you.

Not to mention your living quarters were nothing less than abysmal. You had been given a tiny, fishy-smelling cabin barely large enough to fit a untrustworthy hammock and a simple, rickety chair. The walls were damp, the paint was peeling and mould hung around rent free. The cabin had no proper bathroom, just a cracked basin for washing, and you were forced to bathe with your clothes on to preserve some semblance of privacy and dignity. The limited water you were allotted was often murky, tainted by the ship's grime and filth.

Meals were a farce. The crew seemed to take pleasure in your discomfort, providing you with nothing more than stale, dry bread, hardened fish and tepid water, barely enough to keep you alive. Your stomach grumbled constantly, a relentless gnawing hunger that left you feeling weak and light-headed. You would sit in your cramped cabin, picking at the bread, trying to muster the strength to face another day. It was a test of endurance, a form of torture that gnawed away at your resolve with each passing hour.

Despite your dire circumstances, you knew you had no choice but to obey. Your earlier demands had placed you in a dangerous position, and any hint of defiance could tilt the balance against your favour. You walked a thin line, a weak rope that even a trapeze artist would refuse.

On your sixteenth day on the ship, you woke up earlier than usual, to the soft creaking of the ship, your senses still dulled by the fitful sleep that had become your nightly routine. The confines of your smelly, damp cabin felt more oppressive each day, the weak hammock beneath you barely providing rest. You stretched your aching limbs and splashed your face with the dull water from the cracked basin, trying to shake off the persistent lethargy that clung onto you like a second skin. The stale bread left from your last meal sat untouched on the rickety chair, your stomach too nauseous to consider eating.

You were in the midst of your daily routine, preparing for another gruelling day of work, the same work you once enjoyed now seemed like an unnecessary pain. You prepared to walk out of the cabin, dreading the unwanted attention from the others, when a sudden, deafening boom echoed through the ship. The floorboards shuddered beneath your feet, and the air seemed to recoil with the force of the explosion. For a moment, you stood frozen in place, your mind struggling to process the cacophony of sounds that followed—the clamour of footsteps, the frantic shouts, and the ominous creaking of the ship as it tilted to one side, making you stumble.

Your heart raced as you heard the muffled sounds of screaming and scurrying outside your door. Panic surged through your veins, and you moved to the door, only to find it locked from the outside. You cursed under your breath, tears welling up in your eyes. The realisation that you were trapped, powerless to escape whatever chaos had engulfed the ship, sent a wave of despair crashing over you.

“Pirates! Save yourself!” someone screamed, their voice raw with terror. The slurred shrieks of the slaver captain followed, barking out orders with a frantic urgency. “Abandon ship! No first- Get me out of here!”

Your pulse quickened as you grasped the small window set high in your door. It was just out of reach. You grabbed the chair, its legs wobbly and unstable, and clambered onto it, pressing your face to the grimy glass. You could see only a narrow slice of the chaos outside, figures darting back and forth in a desperate frenzy. The metallic tang of blood filled the air, mingling with the acrid smoke that drifted through the corridors.

As you strained to see more, a thud shook the door, and the chair beneath you wobbled alarmingly. You let out a strangled cry, gripping the edges of the window for balance. The sound of gunshots reverberated through the wooden walls, each one a sharp, violent punctuation in the symphony of terror. A thick, dark liquid began to seep through the crack at the bottom of the door, pooling on the floor beneath your feet. You felt your stomach churn as the realisation hit you—blood.

You screamed, a raw, primal sound that tore through your throat, and the colour drained from your face. You banged on the door, your fists bruising against the wood, but your cries were lost in the maelstrom of chaos outside.

Suddenly, a voice pierced through the din, smooth and chillingly calm. “Found a slave in here,” it called out, its tone laced with a seductive menace that made your skin crawl. You pressed your ear to the door, straining to catch a glimpse of your would-be captors, but your vision swam with tears and fear.

Before you could react, a hand slammed against the window, and the force of the impact sent your chair teetering. You lost your balance, falling hard to the floor, your head striking the rough wood with a sickening thud. Pain exploded in your skull, and your vision blurred. You could hear the blood rushing in your ears, mingling with the distant sound of voices and the echo of your own screams.

The last thing you saw before darkness claimed you was the vague outline of a figure moving past the window, and the door being wrenched open with a splintering crack. The scent of salt and gunpowder filled your nostrils, mingling with the coppery tang of blood. The voice, with its cruel, mocking lilt, whispered one last chilling phrase as consciousness slipped away. “This one will fetch a fine price.”

The voice, gruff and edged with impatience, cut through the haze of your fading consciousness. "Yeah, first we need to fix that nasty gash in the side of her head."

Everything went black.

When you finally stirred, it felt like an eternity had passed. Your head throbbed with a deep, pulsing ache, and your limbs felt as if they were weighed down with stones. You groaned, your voice a rasping whisper for water, as you struggled to open your eyes. The light in the room was blinding, stabbing into your skull with every tiny flicker.

Slowly, painfully, you turned your head, your vision swimming in and out of focus. The room around you was dimly lit, the walls rough and shadowed. The scent of salt and damp wood filled the air, but it was the figure by your side that drew your attention. A man stood there, dressed in a white tunic splattered with dull red and brown stains. You blinked, your foggy mind trying to make sense of it all.

"Where... where am I? How long was I out?" You croaked out, your throat dry and raw.

The man turned, and for a moment, all thoughts of pain and confusion fled your mind. He was the most striking man you had ever seen, with piercing brown eyes and a rugged handsomeness that made your breath catch in your throat. His blonde hair was tied back in a careless manner, stray strands framing his sharp features.

You let out a disbelieving chuckle, your words slipping out before you could stop yourself. "Yep, I’m dead, and there’s even an angel here to take me away."

The man's expression twisted into a snarl at your words, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. "Ain’t an angel, lass. I’m a doctor. I fixed you up, but now you’ll be sent off somewhere, I guess."

Your mind stuttered to a halt, confusion crashing over her. You’re stared at him, trying to process what he had just said. Suddenly, panic flared in your chest, and you bolted upright despite the sharp pain that tore through your body.

"Wait, what?" You gasped,your heart pounding wildly.

"You heard me," he replied, his tone flat but certain.

"But why?" you questioned, your voice trembling with both confusion and fear.

The man approached you, his demeanour calm and seemingly harmless as he carried a box filled with strange bottles and vials and a glass of water. “I dunno. My job was to patch you up, doll. The rest is up to the captain to decide.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. "Wait, captain? This is a ship—are you pirates?!" you screeched, your voice rising in panic. Instinctively, you shifted further up on the bed, clutching the sheets tightly against your chest as if they could somehow protect you from whatever horrors awaited.

The man laughed, the sound a low rumble in his chest. “What, you thought you were back in whatever noble house you came from?”

“N-no,” you stammered, the denial slipping from your lips before you could even process it. “Of course not, but… what do you want from me?”

The man sighed, a trace of weariness in the sound, before a small awkward smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Let me put some ointment on your wound,” he said, gesturing to the box he carried. “Then I’ll take you to the captain. He’ll decide your fate... don’t worry, sometimes……. he’s merciful.”

A look of horror passed over your face, the weight of his words sinking in. But as much as you wanted to fight, to resist, you knew you had no choice. Once again you were trapped. With trembling hands, you released your grip on the sheet and took the glass of water he held towards you. You took a few sips before gulping it down and allowing him to come nearer.

He moved with a practised ease, gently unwrapping the gauze from around your head. You hadn’t even realised it was there, there was dull throbbing in your skull because of whatever injury you had sustained. He dabbed at the wound with a wet cloth, wiping away the dried blood, and you flinched as the cold air touched the raw skin.

When he began applying the ointment, you winced, expecting the sting of pain to worsen. But instead, a soothing coolness spread across the wound, the pain ebbing away within minutes. It was as if the discomfort had never existed.

He finished wrapping your head in fresh bandages, his hands quick and efficient. You touched the side of your head, your mouth falling open in awe when you realised there was no more pain.

"You must have magic in your hands," you murmured, your voice filled with genuine wonder. "I barely feel any pain at all."

He smiled widely at your words, a touch of pride lighting up his eyes. “No magic, lass. Just a good bit of skill.” He extended a hand to help you stand, his grip firm and steady as he guided you to your feet .

You wobbled slightly, your legs feeling like jelly beneath you, but he steadied you with ease. With a nod, he led you out of the dimly lit room, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on your chest as you headed toward whatever fate the captain had in store for you.

Stepping out of the door, you were immediately hit with a blast of hot, humid air, the salty tang of the sea filling your nostrils. The sunlight, far more intense than the dim lights of the room you had just left, assaulted your eyes, forcing you to squint against its brightness. As your eyes adjusted, you took in your surroundings, following the man down a narrow passage that led out onto the deck.

The deck was expansive, far larger than you had expected, and meticulously maintained. The dark wood beneath your feet was smooth and polished, almost gleaming in the sunlight, a stark contrast to the grimy, weathered deck of the ship you had been on before. Men moved about with a practised, almost military-like precision, their movements synchronised as they managed the sails and ropes with an efficiency that belied the chaos you had expected from a pirate crew. Voices rang out across the deck, some shouting orders, others responding with quick, sharp affirmations.

Your gaze was drawn upward to the towering mainmast, which seemed to loom over you like a giant, casting a long shadow across the deck. "We must be on the poop deck," you thought, your mind racing to make sense of the ship’s layout. Ahead of you, you could just barely make out the bowsprit extending far into the distance, the very tip of the ship. The grandeur of the ship astonished you, its size and the sheer opulence of its upkeep making you wonder just how rich these pirates must be.

The man led the way, his footsteps silent on the wooden planks as you followed closely behind, your eyes darting around to take in as much as you could. Despite the flurry of activity around you, none of the crew seemed to pay you any mind. They were too focused on their tasks to spare even a glance in your direction, as if your presence was of no consequence to them. The lack of attention should have reassured you, it was a relief from the constant surveillance you had on the slaver ship, but it only deepened the knot of anxiety twisting in your stomach.

As you reached the main deck, the man remained quiet, offering no explanation or comfort. The tension in your chest grew with each step, your heart pounding in rhythm with the ship's creaking timbers. Finally, you arrived at a small staircase that led down into another passage. This passage, in contrast to the bright sunlight above, was dark and foreboding, the walls closing in around you as you descended. The shift from light to dark was jarring, and you found yourself instinctively trying to close in on yourself, away from the shadows that seemed to press into you from all sides.

The man stopped at the end of the passage, in front of a large carved, heavy door that seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it. “Wait here,” he instructed, his voice curt but not unkind. He pushed the door open and slipped inside, leaving you standing alone in the darkness.

You stared at the door, your breath coming in shallow, anxious gasps. "This must be the captain’s room," you thought,your imagination running wild with all the possible horrors that could lie beyond that door. The longer you stood there, the more your nerves frayed, each second stretching out into an eternity. Your mind conjured up images of what the captain might be like—cruel, ruthless, and utterly terrifying. You could almost see his large figure and barbarous appearance.

Your heart raced, the silence around you thickening like a shroud. Every creak of the ship, every distant shout from the deck above, made you jump. You fought the urge to flee, knowing you had nowhere to go, no means of escape. All you could do was wait, your ability to overthink seemed to have reached a new level, until the door finally opened and you would come face to face with the man who held your fate in his hands.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the door creaked open, and the man stepped out, his expression unreadable. He gestured for you to go inside, but you hesitated, your feet rooted to the spot. The fact that he didn’t seem to be coming in with you made your heart pound even harder in your chest. When you still didn’t move, he gave you a gentle but firm push, and before you could protest, the door was closed behind you with a resounding thud.

You stumbled into the room, your breath catching in your throat as you took in your surroundings. The space was dimly lit, casting deep shadows across the walls, but you could tell it was large, much larger than the cramped quarters you had been kept in before. The walls were lined with shelves overflowing with books, maps, and various trinkets that glimmered in the low light—treasures from far-off lands, you assumed. One side of the room was dominated by a large window that offered a breathtaking view of the endless sea, the horizon glowing with the last light of the setting sun. Just how long had you been waiting.

But what truly caught your attention was the man standing in front of the window, his back turned to you. He wore a black tunic that clung to his lean frame, the edges wrapped in black bandages that extended down to his palms. His tight leather pants emphasized his sharp, angular build, and though he wasn’t very tall, he exuded an aura of power and intimidation that filled the room. His hair was striking—half black, half white, styled into a short mullet that gave him an almost otherworldly appearance. He was nothing like you had imagined.

You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice. "H-hello?" you stuttered out, your words barely above a whisper.

The man turned slowly, revealing a face that was both haunting and mesmerising. What puzzled you most was the pair of dark sunglasses he wore, despite the fact that they were inside a dimly lit room. His lips curled into a menacing smile, one that sent a shiver down your spine. And then he spoke, his voice dripping with a honeyed malice, the same voice you had heard just before you had lost consciousness.

“Ahh, finally, the sleeping beauty is awake,” he drawled, his smile widening as he took a step toward her. His presence was suffocating, every movement deliberate and calculated. “Tell me, go ahead. Negotiate your life, beg if you must. Then we’ll see what to do with you.”

He moved to the large table in front of the window, sitting down with a casual grace that belied the danger he radiated. He propped his feet up on the table, the heavy black boots he wore catching your eye. They were stained with dark splotches of red, the sight of which made your stomach recoil.

You tried to speak, but your voice came out in stammers, very much unlike the confidence you held when you talked to the slavers. Your mind raced as you searched for something, anything, that might save you.

He lifted his sunglasses, his eyes were a striking grey, like an uncontainable storm. Suddenly the room felt even more suffocating than before.

“I said speak,” he commanded in a ruthlessly calm voice, it sent shivers down your spine. This man was something different.

You didn’t want to speak but words came out anyway, as if someone had physically forced you to. “I-I’m a navigator,” you blurted, your words tumbling over each other in a desperate rush. “I can help you—I’ve guided many ships through perilous waters. I can be useful to you. Please, if you spare me, I’ll do whatever you need. I’ve helped with multiple voyages, charted courses, and avoided storms…”

Your words trailed off as the man laughed, the sound echoing in the room like a cruel mockery. His laughter was sharp, cutting through your rambling pleas and leaving you in a stunned silence. You stood there, trembling, as his mirth subsided, feeling smaller and more like an insignificant fly everytime he looked you over.

Just as you were about to try again, the door behind you creaked open. You froze, your heart lurching in your chest as you heard the sound of boots on the wooden floor. You turned slightly, your eyes widening as seven men entered the room, including the one who had patched you up earlier. They spread out behind you, their presence like a barrier between you and the door, it made your knees weak.

The room felt much smaller now, the walls closing in on you as you stood there, trapped between the intimidating captain in front of you and the intimidating crew behind you. Your mind raced, the weight of the situation crashing down on you as you realised just how dire your circumstances had become.

You looked around, your eyes darting from one man to the next, taking in their appearances and trying to read the expressions on their faces. Each one of them exuded a certain aura, something you couldn’t quite decipher. But the tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to make your skin crawl.

The man in the centre, the one you assumed to be the captain, spoke again, his voice laced with a poisonous edge. “So, tell me, what should we do with this young lady here?”

One of the men stepped forward, his height almost matching that of the captain. He had a permanent smirk on his face, a look that immediately filled you with a sense of revulsion. “I told you earlier too—we should sell her. We’ll get paid a hefty sum for a pretty face like hers.”

Your expression twisted into one of disgust, your heart beating deafeningly at the casual cruelty in his words. But before you could react, another man spoke up, this one taller and far more muscular than the others. His broad shoulders and imposing frame made him look like a man who was used to handling trouble with his fists. “Hey, I thought we didn’t do that anymore,” he said, his tone almost childlike as he pouted, clearly not taking the situation as seriously as you wished he would.

The first man, with his smirk still firmly in place, shrugged, side eyeing his friend. “I was just joking,” he said, though the glint in his eyes suggested otherwise.

Before you could process that, a third man cut in, his voice sharp and dismissive. “It’s all a waste. Just throw her into the water for the sharks. She’s more trouble than she’s worth.”

Her heart dropped at the suggestion, fear gripping you tightly, but then the man who had healed you spoke up, his voice carrying a note of annoyance. “Hey, then what did I do all that healing for if she was just going to become fish food? We could have thrown her in before I wasted my time.”

The men began to bicker among themselves, their voices rising and overlapping as they argued over your fate. It was as if your life was nothing more than a trivial matter to be debated, and it felt like a cold wet blanket had been dropped on top of you.

The captain, watching the chaos unfold, chuckled to himself. With a wave of his hand, he silenced the room, his voice cutting through the noise with ease. “Now, now, boys, let’s not be hasty. She said she’s a navigator, didn’t she?” He turned his gaze back to you, his expression unreadable. “You see, our last man accidentally tipped over into the ocean, so we’re in need of a new navigator. Why don’t you give it a go? If you fail, well…” He paused, an innocent look spreading across his face, though his eyes remained cold. “Maybe you’ll end up with him.”

You stared at him, aghast at his words. The casual way he spoke of life and death, as if they were nothing more than a game. This was not a man who valued life—at least, not the lives of those he deemed beneath him. And now, your fate rested in the hands of this man who would as easily toss you overboard as he would give you a chance to prove your worth.

Your mind raced, a deadweight pressing down on you. You had no choice but to accept his offer—if it could even be called that. But deep down, you knew that this was only the beginning of a difficult journey, you had to play your cards right.

You agreed hastily, your voice trembling as you thanked him for sparing your life. The captain laughed again, a sound that was more chilling than comforting, before turning his attention away from you. "Someone, show her the way to her cell—oops, I meant room," he ordered, a wicked grin stretching across his face as he returned to the window, sunglasses coming back down, cackling all the way.

As he stared out at the darkening horizon, another man, much taller and with a gaunt appearance, followed him. His hair was stark white, and there was something about his hollow cheeks and sunken black eyes that made you shiver. He leaned in close to the captain, whispering in hushed tones, their conversation too quiet for you to hear. you could only watch as the two men exchanged words.

The rest of the men began to file out of the room slowly, their presence still made you uneasy in the back of your mind. In the end two of the tallest still stayed behind, one of them placing a firm hand on your shoulder and pushing you forward slightly. He seemed friendlier than the others, and he quickly said, "Let’s go," in a tone that was almost reassuring.

As you made your way out of the captain’s quarters, you noticed that his friend, who had stayed silent, was indifferent and least interested in you. He kept flipping a small, gleaming blade in his hand, the metallic click of the weapon opening and closing sending a wave of anxiety through you. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to stab himself—or worse, you.

The friendlier man, walking beside you, began to speak quickly, his words tumbling out in a rush as he droned on about the different parts of the ship and the engineering behind them. He spoke so fast that you could barely understand him, but at least his upbeat demeanour was a welcome change from the coldness you had faced so far. His enthusiasm, however, was lost on you; all you could think about was the blade flicking in the other man's hand and the fact that you were at the mercy of these pirates.

After what felt like an endless walk, they reached a small room, on the opposite side of the captain’s quarters and suspiciously close to the main deck. The indifferent man, his voice surprisingly deep, said, "We’re here," before pushing you inside. You barely had time to protest before he quickly closed the door and locked it with a solid click.

The cheery one spoke up from behind the door, his face appearing in the small, barred window set into it. "There’s food for you on the table, and some spare clothes in the chest near the bed. The clothes might be big, but you’ll have to make do for now. There are also spare sheets in the chest, some paper and pencils, and water, of course. The room is locked for your own safety, and if you need help, just tap loudly a few times under the flower painting over the bed—someone will come to you. Good night!" And with that, his face disappeared, leaving you alone in the room.

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the distant sound of boots echoing down the hallway until they, too, faded into nothingness. You stood there for a moment, shaken by the events of the day, unable to move or think. It was as if your body had finally caught up with the shock of it all, and you felt the weight of your situation settle heavily on your shoulders.

Slowly, you walked over to the table and saw the surprisingly good-looking food laid out for you. A nice bowl of hot stew, some fluffy bread, and roasted meat—simple, but more appetising than anything you had eaten in days. You sat down and began to eat, savouring every bite. You hadn’t realized just how hungry you were until now, and the warmth of the food filled you with a small measure of comfort. As you ate, tears welled up in your eyes and slowly started to drip down.

After finishing your meal, you opened the chest near the bed and found a white tunic and a pair of black linen shorts. The tunic was big, but you managed to hold it together with your own belt, and though the shorts were also loose and came down to your knees, you made do with what you had. You then lay down on the bed, the soft sheets a welcome relief against your skin.

As you stared up at the ceiling, your mind raced with thoughts of the day’s events. How easily you had been spared from death, or worse, and how it all seemed almost too simple. Was it all just to scare you, or was there something deeper going on behind the scenes? The uncertainty of it all terrified you, and you felt a pang of loneliness that threatened to overwhelm you.

But as much as your thoughts tormented you, the heavy exhaustion of your body and the gentle rocking of the ship slowly pulled you into a dreamless sleep.

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DISCLAIMER: THIS IS PURE FICTION AND NOT RELATED TO THE MEMBERS OF ATEEZ IN REAL LIFE PLEASE DO NOT TAKE IT SERIOUSLY

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heeliopheelia · 1 year ago

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"please, say it" (sunghoon x reader)

genre: fluff word count: 0.6k requested by nonnie ♡

a/n: another teeth rotting fluff for yall tonight 👀 i've been reading a lot of geto fics lately so it's either heavy angst or the sweetest shit ever with him (obviously i got inspired by the latter one lmao)

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The white bed sheets ruffle softly as you turn to your stomach, burying your face in a pillow. You have around fifteen minutes left until you have to get up for real if you don't want to be late for work. Sunghoon always sets his alarm half an hour earlier than yours as his workplace is located way further than yours.

He walks out of the bathroom, finishing buttoning his dress shirt up, a small smile painted on his lips as he looks at you. He walks up to you and leans down to press a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

"I'm gonna head out now, sweetheart," he says, running his hand through your hair one last time before stepping away from you. He turns on his heel to walk out of your shared bedroom and calls out over his shoulder, "See you later. I love you!"

What stops him in his tracks is the lack of response coming from you, excluding the unacceptable mhm mumbled into the pillow. With a frown on his face, he turns around slowly, raising his eyebrow at your half-asleep self.

"I love you," he repeats expectantly.

Silence.

You can barely hear him at this point as your mind drifts off to the dreamland again. When your slow breathing sounds through the quiet room, Sunghoon scoffs in disbelief of how rudely you're trying to rob him off of his daily avowal of affection. And he's not having any of it.

With a startled jolt, you lift your face from the pillow, blinking rapidly as the sheets are being barbarously ripped off of your body. An annoyed frown raises upon your features as your blurry gaze comes across your scowling boyfriend. He tosses your warm duvet to his side of the bed, then crosses his arms over his chest.

He sends you a pointed look. "I'm waiting," he says, attitude dripping from his tone.

You run your hand through your sleepy face. "The hell?" You mumble quietly, voice still raspy. "Hoon, what are you doing? You're gonna be late for work."

"Do I look like I care? I'm not going anywhere until you finally do your damn job and say it back."

You raise your eyebrows at his words, looking at him like he's just escaped from a mental institution. "Are you okay? And say what back?"

Sunghoon clicks his tongue before letting out a dramatic sigh. "You know what, missy." He squints his eyes, pointing his outstretched finger at you. "C'mon, hurry up or we're both not gonna make it on time."

Your boyfriend only rolls his eyes as you stand up from the bed and stumble over to his pouting self, still doubling over with laughter. You crash right into his chest, burying your face in the ironed fabric of his shirt as you wrap your arms around his waist.

You gape at him for a second, mind nearly steaming as you try to make any sense of his lunatic words. And then, your face lights up with realization.

"Oh my god!" You let out a loud cackle, falling back into the pillow as you laugh into your hands. You shake your head in disbelief. "You are a child!"

"Now, can you finally do it?" He asks quieter this time, fingers softly raking through your messy hair. You look up at him, your grinning face instantly bringing a smile to his own lips as well. "Please, baby, just say it,"

"I love you too, silly" you finally say the four words that feel like heaven upon Sunghoon's ears. You raise to your toes to press your lips to his jawline. "Now, go. You're already late but I still have seven more minutes of sleep."

Ignoring the amused scoff that leaves his lips, you turn on your heel and jump right back on top of the warm mattress. Nuzzling your face in the pillow, you don't even hear the door closing as you quickly fall back asleep.

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pinknightsinmymind · 1 year ago

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【 found family hc's 】

abby anderson x fem!reader & ellie williams x fem!reader

wc: 4.4k

song rec: house song by searows. i listened to this on loop the entire time i was writing.

content: established relationship, modern!au, fluff galore, hc's for both abs and els, christmas with abs!!!!, bbq with ellie and family, minor angst, but this is all fluff so sweet it rots your teeth, hc's AND long blurbs for abby and ellie, mentions of parent loss(in this modern!au abby's mother passed away), mentions of adoption(for ellie's hc's), and sarah is here!! she is ellie's older sister <33 also pls read a/n for more info

a/n: in which you are dating one of the girlies, meet their fathers, and detailing your journey into becoming part of the family. i kinda wrote this with the idea of what it’s like to not come from a healthy family in mind, but it’s also vague and written in a way where you’re able to interpret it and shape it to fit whatever you have in mind and relate it to what you know. the main theme here, though, is finding/making your own family and building a beautiful life despite your past. this is kinda just me hoping i’ll be able to do the same one day. i began writing this while really sad, but i’m posting this in much better spirits. this started with my sadness, but now it makes me feel hopeful. anyways, pls enjoy, and if you think you’ll need them, get your tissues ready. i love you all and you are all so beautiful and worthy of love and good things. and if any of you ever need anything, my inbox and dm's are open <333

GENERAL HEADCANONS — applies to both abby and ellie

It’s an uncomfortable conversation, but when your relationship with her started getting serious, you explained what your family/home life was like and that although you’d love to, your family probably wouldn’t want to foster a close relationship with either of you. You told her you understood if this was a dealbreaker and if it was something she couldn’t tolerate, but that wasn’t her reaction at all. Instead, you were met with complete understanding that almost left you sobbing. You were happy to have someone finally understand that family—and navigating it—hasn’t been easy for you and it was good to not have things out of your control held against you for once.

As your relationship progressed, she made it clear to you that she’d love to introduce you to her family and that they were excited to meet you. She promised that they’d accept you into open arms and that everything would go well, so there was nothing to worry about.

You were nervous, of course, unsure how any of it would unfold because you had never met her family before. You had heard so much about them and knew they must have been amazing people to have raised someone as great as your girlfriend, but you were still scared. What if they could see everything wrong with you with just one look? What if they thought you were too damaged and no good for their daughter? Or what if they just didn’t like you? It was all so worrisome, but your girlfriend assured you it would all be okay.

Meeting the rest of the family was one thing, but meeting their fathers was the scariest part.

ABBY ANDERSON

You met Abby's dad during Thanksgiving—typical and sappy, but just so Abby. Of course she’d bring someone home during the holidays. You had been dating her for almost a year now, so it was about time you met him. You knew that Abby's mother passed when she was very young, and you also knew it would just be the three of you together for the holiday. Jerry did everything to make any occasion happy for his daughter since he knew her life would be hard enough without a mother, and that included holidays. As a busy surgeon—the top one of your city’s hospital, no less—he’s lucky to get this day off, and although he can’t make a whole turkey on his own, he cooks many other dishes to make up for it. He goes all out making desserts as he likes baking more than cooking, and he’s the main reason Abby has such a sweet tooth.

Jerry is nothing but welcoming to you, telling you how he’s heard so much about you (which in turn makes Abby blush, thinking to herself, He wasn’t supposed to say that! but she still keeps her cool). He asks you all about yourself, if you’re in school and what for, what your plans for the future are, then jumps straight into his dad-threats. He tells you in a serious voice that you better take care of his daughter, then lets out a laugh and offers you a slice of pie.

It went well, and you even stayed the night at Abby's childhood home, sleeping in her big and well-furnished room.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“I think it went well,” you said. The two of you were huddled up underneath the covers in her old bed, and it’s comfier than you expected. Maybe it’s because Abby has you pulled close to her chest as her hand rubs comforting circles on your back, but it’s still heavenly. “I just can’t tell if he likes me or not.”

“Please, he likes you,” she assured you. You could feel her trailing her hand down your sides gently now. “Otherwise he wouldn’t have been in such a good mood today. Promise.” You let out a small sigh at her words. You didn’t want to argue with her about this, and you felt the only thing you could possibly do was hope she was right.

You did see Jerry a few times after that, but it was only when Abby invited you to go see him with her. He was always kind and welcoming, but you couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in your chest that maybe he didn’t actually like you. What if he was faking all of it? You couldn’t think of any good reasons why he’d like you and accept you with open arms. It didn’t make sense to you because all you knew to expect from a parental figure was rejection. Maybe he just didn’t think you were good enough for his daughter. You didn’t tell Abby any of this, though, because you knew she’d be crushed to hear you don’t think her dad likes you. It’s also because she’ll just tell you for the millionth time he does, and you’d hate asking her for the same reassurance over and over again. In the case of her father’s acceptance, it would do nothing to quell your fears.

You hadn’t expected the holiday season to help erase these fears, but they did. After a late night of watching movies, Abby brought up visiting her father for Christmas with you by her side. She was excited as she told you all about her and her dad’s traditions: drinking hot coco, watching cheesy Christmas movies, stockings full of gifts, and the works. You couldn’t tell her no. Not when her face was beaming with excitement and she had a big smile across her face. You appreciated how much she wanted to include you—no, scratch that, cherished it—but deep down inside you felt out of place. You felt like an environment as soft and as warm as that was not a place where you belonged. It’s not what you knew, not what you were used to, but you put on a brave face for Abby.

You didn’t believe her when she told you how extensively Jerry decorated the house, but it was exactly as she said. As soon as you walked through the front door, you could smell the vanilla candles and the scent of pine mixed together. You were greeted not only by Jerry, but by the presence of mini-Santa statues and multi-colored nutcrackers. There was a big wreath on the outside of the front door, and an even bigger one hung around the family portrait of Abby and her father. The Christmas tree was huge, probably close to six feet tall, and by the smell of the fresh pine emanating from it, you knew it was real. The tree was decorated with gold and silver ornaments, bright lights, tinsel, and a giant star at the top. The fireplace had stockings lined up against the chimney with other statues, trinkets, and family photos lining the shelf. The tree casted a warm glow over the living room, and it just felt so cozy inside. It’s crazy to think that this is what Abby grew up with, that this is the kind of childhood she had, but at the same time you’re happy it was. It’s what she deserves.

It may be Christmas day, but it’s already 9 P.M., so Jerry suggests hot coco, sweets, and a cheesy movie. Abby, of course, agrees and picks out her favorite movie for you all to watch. You helped her pick it out, specifically choosing it because you’ve never seen it before and because you know she loves it. You all get a slice of Jerry’s homemade apple pie, and it’s so warm and gooey you’re sure you’ve never tasted anything like it before. You wonder where in the mix of being a surgeon he found the time to be so good at baking, but it’s still so endearing. You wonder how many times he practiced these recipes for Abby, and it’s so heartwarming. You hope you can one day offer her a home the same way Jerry has.

Jerry settles into his worn-out, leather recliner with his cup of hot chocolate while you and Abby occupy the couch. There’s a glass coffee table in front of it where your two mugs rest as the two of you are snug in a blanket you’re sharing together. You’re nestled into Abby’s side with her arm over your shoulder as you watch the movie together. It’s comfortable, and the warm, yellow lights make the moment that much more beautiful. They cast a glow on Abby, making her look sweeter than she already does. Her hair is down for once, and you’re lost in the tenderness of the moment. Occasionally the two of you move forward and grab your mugs for a sip, but besides that this wholeness has no interruptions. It’s like you can feel your doubts melting away, and you feel comforted, welcomed, by the warmth of this moment. It doesn’t seem to push you away anymore, but rather it’s something you feel compelled to be a part of now. Well, no, that’s not exactly right either. It’s like you are a part of it now, and it’s accepting your embrace rather than your rejection. You don’t feel the need to push it away anymore, to create excuse after excuse as to why you don’t deserve it, and it’s like you’re finally letting it make its home in your heart.

After the movie finished and you all had your fill of hot chocolate, you hear Jerry get up from his seat and mention that he wants to give out stockings. You don’t think much of it, watching the man as he walks up to the fireplace and grabs two of the stockings that were hanging. You hadn’t paid much attention to them earlier, but when he comes up to you and Abby, you realize you should’ve. One has Abby’s name stitched into it with blue and orange thread, and the other has your name threaded into it with your favorite colors. He gives Abby her stocking first, then holds the one with your name on it out towards you.

“Is that for me?” you asked.

“Sure is,” Abby answered. You glance over at her and she’s practically beaming. She seems so proud of herself.

“Abby helped me make it. She made sure it had your favorite colors and everything,” Jerry explained. You finally take the stocking from his hands, feeling the heft of the weight of whatever was inside.

“I bet she got mad if you suggested a color that wasn’t.” You crack a joke in the face of this moment, because if you think too hard, look at the stocking too long, you might start crying.

“Nearly tore my head off,” Jerry laughed. “But it’s so you know you’re part of the family now.” You nod your head, clenching your jaw as your gaze keeps shifting between the stocking and the floor.

“Thank you,” was all you could manage to say in reply. You’re sure you could burst into tears at any moment, but at the very least they’re happy ones.

ELLIE WILLIAMS

You were never as scared of anything as you were to meet Joel Miller. You had seen him in photos with him and Ellie, and he did not look like he played around. In fact, he looked like he’s never fucked around a day in his life. The man intimidated you, and you had never even met him before.

Ellie’s Uncle Tommy’s birthday was coming up, and you were invited to the family celebration that would include Uncle Tommy, Aunt Maria, Joel, Ellie’s older sister, Sarah, and now you.

You had met Joel in passing with a quick “hello” whenever you visited his and Ellie's house, but you had never formally met him, especially not the rest of the family, either. You had also never met Sarah as she lived in a different city and was older than you and Ellie, but you were excited to. She was a young teen when Ellie had been adopted, and you had heard so many stories from Ellie about what an amazing older sister she was, so that was at least one family member you weren’t scared of. Uncle Tommy and Aunt Maria, though? Maria was intimidating, and Tommy and Joel had both been in the military. Who wouldn’t be afraid?

“Everything’s gonna be okay,” Ellie reassured you. You were both standing in front of Tommy and Maria’s front door, nervous as could be. Ellie held your hand in hers as she rubbed her thumb across your skin. “They’ll love you, promise.” Ellie reached up with her free hand and knocked on the door. A second passed in silence between the two of you before the door opened, and you were met face-to-face with Maria. She had short graying hair and a freckled face that reminded you of Ellie’s, and as soon as her eyes landed on the two of you, her lips turned upwards into a wide smile.

“Ellie, is this [Y/N]?” she asked. Ellie smiled shyly as she nodded her head.

“Yes, this is her,” she answered.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” Maria said politely. She was just all smiles, and she was much warmer compared to the scary image of her you created in your head. To be fair, she did seem really intimidating from her pictures, but she was nothing of the sort.

“Nice to meet you, too,” you managed to reply. You were still nervous, feeling like you were choking on the anxious butterflies dancing around your stomach.

“And she’s polite,” Maria prodded. She smiled even bigger as she pulled the door open for the two of you. “Anyways, come in. Joel and Tommy are in the back with the grill set up already, so just follow me.” Ellie walked through the doorway, pulling you with her towards the back of the house. Maria led you through the house’s front hallway into the living den furnished with couches and countless photos and decor hanging on the blue walls, then turned left into the kitchen. Sitting at the table was an older woman at least in her 30’s scrolling through her phone, but her eyes perked up as soon as she saw you all enter the kitchen. Almost immediately an excited smile spread across her face.

“Sarah!” Ellie greeted. The woman jumped up from her seat and gave Ellie a tight hug.

“Ellie, is this her?” she asked. Her eyes kept moving back and forth between the two of you.

“Yes, this is her,” Ellie answered.

“Wow, I’m so happy to meet you!” Sarah cheered. She came over to you and gave you a hug, something you hadn’t expected, but you returned it the best you could. As soon as Sarah pulled away from the hug, she was talking again. The way she carried herself was so confident and firm, and she held great amounts of eye contact while speaking—something you were struggling with at the moment. “Ellie has told me so much! She never stops talking about you!” She had a sweet, Texan accent when she spoke like Joel, while Ellie only had a slight one in comparison.

“Sarah!” Ellie groaned.

“What?” she asked coyly. “Was I not supposed to say that?” The answer was yes, and she knew that, but how could she resist teasing her little sister? Ellie just rolled her eyes.

“Come on, y’all, they’re waiting for us outside,” Maria announced. She nodded her head in the direction of the door behind the kitchen table, and you found yourself taking a deep breath. The door was glass, so you could see the wooden porch outside and the green grass, but no sign of Joel or Tommy—you know, just the two men who terrified you the most.

“Oh, yeah, I was gonna help Dad with the grill,” Sarah sighed.

“You? Helping with the grill?” Ellie teased.

“Hmm, more like standing there and talking to him,” she said.

“That sounds more like what you meant,” Ellie responded.

“Yeah, see y’all out there.” Sarah got up from her seat and was the first to open the back door, the hot air and smell of grilled meat wafting in as soon as she did. Maria followed her soon after, and you knew you and Ellie should follow suit, but you found yourself stuck, unsure what to do.

“Hey, you okay?” Ellie asked. The sound of the door closing shut hung in the air, and you knew you’d have to open it again soon.

“Yeah, just… nervous,” you explained.

“Everything will be alright, promise. I’m gonna be here the whole time, and we’re gonna be eating, too. That won’t be too bad, now, will it?” she asked.

“No, I guess not,” you replied.

“And you’ve got me right next to you. Don’t forget that.” Ellie gave you a sheepish smile, and you did your best to return it despite the queasiness in your stomach.

The barbeque went well, and it wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. In fact, you felt well-received by Tommy as Maria and Sarah helped encourage him to hold conversation with you. The two women did a lot to help conversation flow and welcome you as much as possible, but the one person you felt like you weren’t getting through to was Joel. He was just so… quiet. It’s as if he was always on guard, always analyzing the situation, but what did you expect from a guy who used to be in the military? That seems to be the exact kind of disposition he’d have. He only really gave small replies in single words here and there, maybe an autobiographical question for you, then he’d retreat back to his silence. It was honestly unnerving, and as much as you did your best to immerse yourself in the conversation, in Ellie’s little jokes, Tommy’s laughter, Joel intimidated you more than anyone else ever had before. Why was he so quiet? Did he see something wrong with you? Did he not think you were fit to be his daughter’s girlfriend? Was he waiting for you to make a mistake? Was he planning how to tell Ellie that he didn’t think the two of you were a good match? All the possibilities were endless, and every single one terrified you to no end.

Despite the anxiety eating you up from the inside, you did your best to maintain your composure. You answered whatever questions Ellie’s family had for you, laughed at the jokes like you should have, all while trying to keep the crushing fear at bay. Ellie seemed to sense it somewhat, because at multiple points throughout the dinner she’d grab your hand under the table or rub your thigh comfortingly. When the night started slowing down, the sun sinking lower and lower, Tommy and Maria declared the end of the dinner and started clearing the table. Joel and Sarah disappeared into the house, carrying trash and whatever else they could back inside. Ellie leaned in close to your ear in order to speak.

“How are you feeling?” she whispered.

“I’m doing okay,” you answered. “Not as nervous as before, but still a little.”

“Did you enjoy yourself, though?”

“I did,” you replied.

“Joel and Tommy are good at barbecuing, huh?”

You laughed a little at her prodding. “Yeah, they are.”

“Look, we’re gonna get you some extra family points, yeah? Let’s offer to help Maria clean up. How does that sound?”

“Sounds good to me,” you said. This time you were the one to offer Ellie a little smile, one she was happy to see on your face after such a long day.

“Perfect.” She stood up from her chair and brushed off her jeans. “Hey, Maria, let me and [Y/N] help you clean up a bit,” she announced.

“Well, aren’t you sweet?” Maria asked.

“The sweetest,” Ellie joked. You were next to stand up from the table, picking up both your plate and Ellie’s while she gathered the left behind cups. Tommy had already retreated inside with the large dishes of food, leaving you with just Maria and Ellie. It was quiet besides the clanking of the dishes as all three of you walked inside. Ellie walked behind you as you reentered the house, slotting dishes in the sink and discarding whatever trash she had. Ellie came up behind you, her back pressing into yours for a second when Maria disappeared into the living room where everyone else presumably was.

“How far do we wanna take these points?” she whispered.

“Well, what are you thinking?” you asked her.

“I say we wash the dishes,” she suggested, and you could just imagine the stupid, little grin on her face. “It’ll make them like me more, too.”

“You’re such a dork,” you said as the laugh spilled out your lips. You turned around to look at her, and there was a goofy grin on her face just like you expected. Her hands ventured to rest on your waist, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Whatever. Come on, let’s just do it.”

“Okay, you hate doing the dishes, so I’m starting to wonder what this is really about.”

“I… may or may not have promised Maria I’d do the dishes, and she’ll kill me if I don’t.”

“This is why you watch the promises you make,” you said.

“Moving along,” she said in a rushed manner, “are you gonna help me or not?”

“Yeah, because I need you alive.”

You and Ellie slotted yourselves side by side as you were forced to wash the dishes on account of your girlfriend’s promises. She was stuck washing while you dried the dishes. At one point Joel had wandered through the kitchen, muttering a small greeting to you both before disappearing outside. He left the back door open somewhat, but you said nothing, figuring he would be coming back inside soon. Despite the small interruption, Ellie, of course, couldn’t help being a little shit and splashing you with water every once in a while.

“You got my shirt wet!” you’d scold her.

“I’m sorry, baby,” she’d say all fakely. She pulled you into a hug, but once you separated, she splashed you with water again. After washing the dishes and Ellie cleaned the kitchen up a bit, you could tell she was tired and ready to go home.

“You look tired,” you commented to her.

“Yeah, I’m… all tuckered out. You ready to go home?”

“If you are, yeah.”

“Okay, let me find my… Where are my keys?” she asked. She patted at her pockets, looking for any sign of them, only to come back empty. “I think I left them outside.”

“I can go get them for you,” you offered.

“Oh, good idea. You get my keys and I say bye to everyone for us. Perfect.”

“Alright, I’ll go find them for you. Be right back.” You gave Ellie a quick kiss on the cheek before wandering outside through the back door. As soon as you stepped outside, your eyes landed on Joel sitting on one of the chairs with a mug in his hand. You had forgotten he was even out here in the first place, and you hadn’t expected or planned for this interaction with him. You took a deep, calming breath. You needed to act normal.

“Hello, Joel,” you spoke up. He turned to look at you, then returned his gaze to his mug. It was dark outside, and the porch light may have been on, but it was a dim, yellow light. Not at all helpful as your eyes scoured the ground for Ellie’s keys.

“Hello.” It was quiet as you wandered to the table, looking across the top of it for Ellie’s keys. Still no sign of them. You pulled the chairs out, and you didn’t find them on the seats either. You sighed as you pulled out your phone and turned on your flashlight. “What are you lookin’ for?” Joel asked.

“Um, Ellie’s keys. She can’t find them.” You squatted down to the floor, shining the light around the wooden porch as you continued your search.

“Oh, you two gettin’ ready to leave?” he asked. You turned your phone to the right, and something silver glinted back at you. The keys. Thank God. You grabbed onto them and got back up from the ground.

“Yeah, she said she was tired and ready to go home.”

Joel let out a small chuckle. “That sounds like her,” he remarked.

“It very much is her,” you replied.

“I heard her splashin’ you with water in there.”

“She can’t help herself,” you said. “She apologized, then she did it again.”

“Does that… make you mad?” he asked.

“No, not at all.” You were wondering what he was getting at with the question.

“You and her seem to get along well,” he pointed out.

“I think so, too,” you said, hoping you were choosing your words well.

“I can tell she really loves you, you know,” Joel said. He took a sip out of his drink, then glanced at you. “And you seem really good for her, too.” The words hit you right in the heart. You knew from what Ellie told you that Joel wasn’t a man of many words, but these were just enough. They seemed to give you the kind of confirmation you were looking for, that maybe you could put down the anxiety plaguing your mind.

“I’m glad you think so,” you said. You glanced at the mug in his hands again. Was that steam? “Can I ask what you’re drinking?”

“It’s coffee.”

“This late?” you asked.

“The girls always tell me that,” he said, and you saw the smallest glimpse of a smile ghosting his lips. You figured by “the girls,” he must have been referring to Sarah and Ellie, and that small detail stuck out to you. Despite how scary he was, deep down inside he was just a dad. A girl-dad, at that.

“Ellie always tells me how much she hates coffee.”

“She never lets that go. I tell her she has underdeveloped tastebuds to make her mad.”

“That’s perfect for getting under her skin,” you replied.

“That’s why I say it. Anyways, she’s probably lookin’ for you by now, or me, maybe.”

“Probably,” you responded. “After I find her, she’ll probably come tell you bye before we leave. I’m gonna do that now.”

“You go do that,” he said. “And you better take good care of her, by the way.” You smiled a little bit. Had you heard him say that earlier, you probably would have shit your pants, but now you were comforted by the dad-threat.

“I will,” you said confidently.

“Or I will… do something. I don’t know, I’ll figure it out.”

“I take your word for it,” you replied. You turned around to walk back inside, keys in hand, a new kind of pep in your step as you looked for Ellie.

#abby anderson #abby anderson headcanons #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson x reader fluff #ellie williams #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x reader fluff #tlou x reader

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totallynottinsel · 1 year ago

Text

Warnings: none. Just some tooth rotting fluff for the soul. and maybe a little angst

Ship: Chreon (+ some Jill x Claire sprinkled in for fun)

Ty to my wonderful mom for this whole idea of the gang getting to have a chill day out for once, she's amazing so all credit goes to her for the prompt (: (i've dragged her into the Chreon cult)

Finally, with the world saved once again by the skin of everyone’s teeth, there was that silent, open void left over; it was a bit funny how these top tier government agents and so on had a hard time figuring out what to occupy themselves with when not stopping bioterrorists or shooting zombies. Though most of them had gotten used to that same empty space by now.

After Dylan had been successfully put to a stop, as well as the events on Alcatraz Island settled—the near exhausted group of friends wanted to at least spend a little time all together before each of them had to return to their own set of work again. Yet the question was…what would they do? None could seem to agree on one thing throughout the various ideas and suggestions spat out, though at least someone had a decent choice. Rebecca ended up saying they should simply go out for ice cream, to which they all happily agreed to. Who wouldn’t though?

They all decided to carpool to make the trip easier. “I’m calling shotgun!” Claire exclaimed as she dashed to the side of the car, sitting herself inside right next to her brother, who’d already been the chosen driver—whilst Jill and Rebecca got stuck with the backseats. But at least it wasn’t too squished for the two of them, or so they would think for a good minute.

“Hey, can I ride with you guys? I’ve kinda lost mine” A low, unsure voice kindly asked the rest of the group, which was quick to catch everyone’s attention. It belonged to Leon of course, who stood just a few feet away from the vehicle, arms crossed as he patiently awaited a response.

“What happened to your bike?” Chris asked with curiosity towards the other, his arm resting on the rim of the car’s open window.

“I…don’t really wanna talk about it.” The blond replied in an underlying tone of remorse, his gaze fluttering down to the ground below him, almost in a shameful manner.

"Not again…" Claire murmured from her side, leaning forward to try and get a better look out her brother's window, not all too surprised by the revolution. Especially seeing who it was coming from.

"What does she mean again? Jesus, how many bikes have you recked?" Jill raised an eyebrow to the topic, staring at the apprehensive man outside the car with a slightly distasteful, yet nonetheless intrigued look on her face.

"Too many for my liking." Leon mumbled under his breath as it was mixed with the tiniest tinge of annoyance, which was fair in his defense. He made his way over to the car, and slid himself inside the backseat alongside the other two—who were now stuck being squished next to each other.

"So what I got from that was, is that I get to sit next to the guy who's known for wrecking bikes and or vehicles? Just my luck." She remarked straight back, her tone riddled with sarcasm as she kept on trying to lean far from him, making their limited space even worse no doubt. "Wanna swap seats?" She asked the woman next to her.

"I'll pass." Rebecca gladly declined, knowing fully well she wasn't about to be the human shield in case the curse of the vehicle wrecker was real all along.

"Don't worry, we'll get you a new one, again. It's no big deal." Chris didn't hesitate one bit to put up an offer towards the other man, his usual warm and inviting smile coming across his face as he started up the car, one hand leisurely placed on the wheel.

"You don't have to do that, Chris—really. I can get my own this time, eventually…" He denied the gracious offer with hesitance; it wouldn't be the first time he's said no, yet came home to a snazzy new bike regardless.

"He just likes finding any excuse to buy you things." Claire couldn't help but comment with a grin towards the two, shifting to look back at Leon, who rightfully was trying to avoid direct eye contact. Even if everyone was staring at him with intrigue. "You know he'll get it for you no matter what you say or do." He sank right into his seat after hearing that.

—-------

"Are you going to pick or just stand there?" Chris asked with a gentle sigh, waiting for Jill to finally order whatever flavor of ice cream she was so deeply contemplating for what seemed like years. At this rate, she'd been holding up the line of impatient kids—whilst Claire and Rebecca had no issues ordering and taking a seat outside the place.

"Give me a break! It's been awhile since I ordered anything, let alone ice cream." She gave a snappy response before eventually making her decision out of the bajillion flavors this place had, and was glad to leave the devilish gazes of all those kids waiting for their daily sugar intake.

"Did you order anything yet?" Chris directed his attention back to the silent man standing off to the side, seeming a bit fazed out—as if he'd been distracted this entire time, which might've been true.

"Huh–? Oh, yeah… I'll just have whatever you're having, I'm not really that hungry." Leon merely shrugged his shoulders, stuffing his hands down into the pockets of his leather jacket, having his laid back demeanor as always.

"You sure?" The older wanted to confirm, though a hint of concern was noticeable in his voice towards the other.

"Yeah, like I said, I'm not super hungry or anything…but if I do I'll just steal some from yours." He at least had a half smile going, which was better than nothing at all, but something still felt a bit off.

The two men returned back outside within no time, ice cream in hand as the sun was shining, people out and about, no blood curdling screams of terror. Or big tyrants stomping around. All in all it was…well, a normal, average day, by anyone else's standards. But for this group of pals in particular? This was like a dream.

"Looks like we've been ditched." Leon snarkily remarked at the supposed other three friends who'd left before them, now nowhere in sight. So…that left the both of them, alone once again to either sit in cricket filled silence as they stood on the sidewalk, or attempt at striking up a decent conversation. What the hell would they even talk about at this point? That was always the question when this scene played out, with no mission to swiftly coordinate with one another, or battle to face. Though in all honesty, neither one totally hated the silence—it was almost nice of sorts to just be in each other's company, no words needed.

"You doing okay?" Chris finally spoke up after at least five minutes of just head nodding and gestures of acknowledgement, having already taken notice of the other's odd quietness, and how he kept on resting his eyes nearly the whole time. "You've been pretty quiet all morning."

"I'm fine, just real tired. I barely got any sleep last night…actually, scratch that, I haven't got any sleep all damn week. I guess it's catching up to me." The fatigued blond rubbed his drowsy eyes with his hand, leaning his back against the concrete wall next to the store. "I can't seem to figure out how to stop having nightmares, and I feel like I've tried everything, you know?"

"Yeah, I do." Chris gave a weary nod in return; he definitely had similar experiences with dreams throughout his entire life, though he wasn't sure if his were as frequent, and as bad as Leon's. He's heard about them in detail before, and it didn't sound like a pleasant sight to see. He also wasn't an expert when it came to comforting people, so he gently leaned his cup of ice cream towards the other, offering it up with a kindhearted smile.

Leon let a short chuckle go as he spotted the ice cream, decided to accept the treat, even if it wasn't a flavor he preferred—he didn't mind at all if it was coming from Chris. He pulled out one of the plastic spoons that sat in the side of it, and popped a spoon full into his mouth, pleasantly surprised by it.

"You'll always have my shoulder to lean on, just know that." The older said whilst taking a bite of his own, happy to have seen his offer of ice cream be taken up.

"Good, 'cause I'm beat." Leon didn't hesitate much to carefully rest his sleepy head on the side of the other's shoulder, not exactly being able to reach the top due to their slight height difference. He obviously chose to take the Chris's words more literally than figuratively—but hey, the man was exhausted, so what's the harm in it?

The two decided to stay there, taking in the scenery; sounds of speedy cars rushing by, or the sounds of distant voices and footsteps. It was honestly quite relaxing, and with how tired Leon already was, he was struggling to even keep his eyes open as he took a long awaited rest—which no doubt wouldn't be happening if Chris wasn't here. They made each other feel safe enough to put their guards down for once. It was sort of like having a big fuzzy blanket you could hide yourself under, and you felt as if nobody could touch you.

"Hey, Chris?"

"Yeah?"

"You really don't have to get me a new bike."

"I want to."

Leon sighed in defeat, eyes still closed, knowing there was no way he'd win this argument.

"Maybe Claire was right when she said I use it as an excuse to buy you things, but it's also an excuse to get to see you. Without having to fight bioterrorist's in the same day." It was true, he was always looking for little ways to try and see or talk to the agent away from anything work related, and it'd become painfully obvious to everyone around that he was trying so hard to spend time with him, well—to everyone but Leon.

“All you have to do is ask, y’know? It’s no trouble if you ever wanna call me up and hang around, or something. No need to spend your entire life savings on me, Redfield.” He mentally cursed at his own words after some thought over them, wondering if ‘hanging around’ was the right thing to suggest, should he have recommended going out to dinner? Or perhaps another group activity? He was unsure, and the room was a bit hard to read…so, all he could really do was hope for the best.

“I might just take you up on that, then.” Well, Chris definitely seemed up for it, so…at least he was doing something right.

—-----

"That's a keeper." Claire said with a smile of her own as she snapped a good photo of the two men from round the street corner, knowing it was a rare sight they were ever that close in a public setting—and she couldn't wait to see the look on her brother's face once she showed it to him later.

"How have neither of them asked each other out?" Rebecca asked with absolute disbelief, shaking her head as she finished off her scoop of ice cream.

"Honestly, I thought Leon would be making moves left and right on him, but I realized he talks a bigger game than he's actually got. And that's just based off a few days knowing him." Jill summed it up fairly well as she watched the two, arms crossed with a small smile before she moved her gaze to the other women beside her. "You Redfields are awful at flirting too."

"She's got a point, I've been around those two long enough to get the feeling that Chris…isn't necessarily great at flirting…" Rebecca chimed in with reluctance.

"Hey, we're not awful flirters! I can do it just as well as anyone else, and maybe Chris…struggles, but he gets there." Claire defended the both of them with confidence in her voice, one she'd soon come to regret as she attempted trying to come up with a flirt, or pickup line, yet—she found herself stuck with infuriated embarrassment by the end of it.

"Alright, stop— look, this is how you do it." Jill set her empty cup of melted ice cream down onto the ground, rolling her shoulders back as she stepped a few feet away, then turned around and walked up to the younger Redfield again, who was still speechless. "Hey, wanna go out some time, beautiful?"

In all honesty, it wasn't that great of a line, and really shouldn't work on anyone. Yet the way Jill said those words—the way she walked with absolute confidence, and her voice was as smooth as ever—it lit something inside Claire that she suddenly couldn't explain, and all she could say was…

"Uh, sure–?" She uttered out with a mix of confusion, surprise, and…an interesting dose of excitement.

"Great." Jill accepted it, and was content with her work for the day enough to begin walking back—with a flabbergasted Claire and semi entertained Rebecca following—towards the two men who were practically in their own little world—which would soon come to a speedy crash. "Is he asleep…?" She asked in a low voice.

The sound of Jill's harsh, sudden questioning was enough to jolt Leon awake from his relaxed and peaceful state, swiftly leaving his claimed spot on Chris's shoulder and very quickly deciding to pretend as if that was the last thing he was doing. And totally was not taking an extremely enjoyable nap on his quote on quote ‘friend's’ arm. Yet now he just looked plain freaked out instead of cool and collected. "Where the hell did you all come from–?"

"We were hanging around the corner, just to let you two have some quality time to yourselves.” Rebecca answered with her usual soft tone, though it was as clear as day she was in on whatever the three of them were conspiring over there. “Well, until Jill had something to say to you, I believe."

Chris audibly sighed, a bit bitter by the fact his moment was abruptly interrupted, but tried in his best efforts to keep calm about it, just for the 50\50 chance that whatever she had to say was important in some way, shape or form.

“What is it?”

“I asked your sister out, and she said sure.” Blunt as ever.

“You what?”

The silence had gotten so thick, you could cut it with a knife. And that soon faded into mindless staring—just waiting for someone to awkwardly cough, or say any sentence at all. Nobody was entirely sure if this was all a planned joke or quite literal.

“Jill what do you mean? Don’t walk away!” He threw his hands up in utter confusion as he chased after her down the sidewalk, itching to get a straighter answer and much needed context he clearly missed, whilst Rebecca kept on telling them not to banter so close to the busy road. Far too many times.

Leon didn’t give many words to the whole ordeal, and instead chose to simply watch in saddened disappointment as Chris left his side; he had a blatant frown as he put his hands back in his pockets, returning to the same state he’d been in all morning within the blink of an eye. Although he did have one question that took him a bit aback, out of everything that went down.

“I didn’t know you…well, you know, were into women–?” He tilted his head towards Claire with uncertainty to his own question, even if they’d been close friends for years now—new information still seemed to pop up out of the blue.

“I didn’t know you were into my brother.” She didn’t even have to look back at him to get her point across, and held back a large smile while doing so. She’d noticed his sudden spring of dismay the moment Chris walked off right away, of course, and couldn’t help but comment on it if no one else would.

The blond didn’t deny her accusation by any means, and simply took a stand by her side, a chuckle escaping his lips as they watched the other three repartee all across the street, a true sight for sore eyes getting to see them have a bit of fun.

“I don’t think he knows either.”

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firsttimewriter92 · 2 years ago

Text

Everything Black Part 7

This is a Post Azkaban Sirius Black x fem! reader (Muggle) fic I came up with. This is the first time I´m writing something like this and posting it, so let me know if you have any suggestions as to how I can improve my writing. I am not a native speaker so please keep that in mind :) Please, please don´t copy my work. If you want to repost, please do. I would love it if you tagged me, though :)

Warnings: dringking, smoking, teeth rotting fluff, suggestive moments, slight Angst for Remus, Sirius being a little manace. No smut in this one I´m afraid. I got carried away and the chapter would´ve definately been too long if I added the smutty part. So look out for part 8 ;)

Word count: 8.096

Summary: It´s Christmas and Sirius will be damned if he doesn´t do his best to make it the most beautiful you´ve ever had

___________________________________________________________

Sleep came quickly to you the moment you sank into the soft cushions. You were barely able to lean your head against Sirius´ shoulder or feel his arms pull you closer before you were already asleep, smiling mildly. Sirius chuckled and pulled the sheets closer up to your neck. Kissing your forehead he too rested his head on the cushions feeling lighter than he had ever before. In love. He was in love and there was no going back for him.

His heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest while he looked at your relaxed face. How was he ever going to be able to repay you for what you made him feel? Your affections gave him worth again. He knew immediately you would protest against this thought but to him, it was the truth. And he felt alive because of it. Because you were compassionate, understanding and so incredibly you, he never wanted anything more than to hear you say you would be his until the end of time. You already told him that you were his but it didn´t feel like enough. What he needed to hear was your I love you. Did you wish for his? The whole evening those words were stuck on his tongue but wouldn´t come out. Mostly because he was terrified it would change everything. He was sure you felt the same as him at least to some extent. It was still hard for him to believe you could be in love with him just as much as he was with you. But if the evening showed him anything, it was the fact that you seemed to find him just as attractive as he found you. And that was a fucking stretch. He was still lanky at best and you were…you were….perfection. The way you looked at him throughout the evening still made his whole body heat up. All in all he fell asleep with the most glorious feeling rushing through his veins and giddiness for the next day beside you.

It felt like ages later that you woke up to a light tickling on your back. Groaning a bit you opened your eyes to see Sirius watching you intently. He grinned the moment your eyes connected and you immediately reciprocated. Nuzzling his nose with yours you felt his fingertips lightly stroking your back underneath your sleepshirt. “Merry Christmas, Sirius”, you said while kissing the tip of his nose. “Merry Christmas, my love” he whispered. Raising a hand to his face you traced the outline of his lips. He sighed heavily and kissed the tip of your finger. “I…,” you started, getting sucked in more and more by his mesmerizing eyes. Only now you realised how perfectly they were framed by his eyebrows and lines around the edges. Taking a deep breath you continued. “I love waking up to you” you said with an awestruck voice. He made a defeated sound and buried his face in your chest while you started giggling, slightly embarrassed.

He mumbled something but you couldn´t make it out. “What did you say?” you asked, still grinning. Muffled mumbling again. You snorted a little bit and pinched his arm lightly. He laughed and came up to look at you. Holding your face in one hand he slightly shook his head. “You can´t say stuff like this to me first thing in the morning” he said, licking his lips. “It´ll go to my head as well as my groin.” Humming lightly your hands started to wander downwards. His eyes immediately became dark as he pulled you closer. “You little minx, is this how you want to start Christmas?” he asked in a gravelly voice. You nodded your head, biting your lip. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “Can´t believe I´m saying this…” he whispered almost inaudible. “Love, I´d love nothing more than to keep you here in this bed all day and only stand up to get food but…” his tongue darted out licking a long stipe up your neck while murmuring against your throat. You shivered so hard you almost felt your teeth clank. “There are guests in this house. And I pride myself in being a good host so we should probably have brunch with them.”

Your mind almost blank you blinked a few times before being able to think straight again. “You little git” you breathed incredulously. He chuckled and kissed you hard on the mouth. “That´s what you get when you try to rile me up. Yesterday you were successful but believe me, my darling, two can play that game.” You loved seeing his confidence flare up. You loved it even more if he did it for or because of you. “So you are going to tease me relentlessly for the whole day and then let me ruin you once we are alone again?” you asked in a teasing voice. He groaned at the thought. “That´s the general idea, yeah. If we even make it to being alone again.” You gasped in mock consternation. “Otherwise I´ll just pull you into the next closet, hoist you up and-“ “I GOTTA USE THE LOO” you said loudly and jumped off the bed quickly. Sirius´ cackle following you into the bathroom.

Calm down, calm down, you said to yourself when the door closed. You looked onto your reflection and shook your head indignantly. Your hair was a mess as always, your eyes a little bloodshot but shining like they never had before and your face and neck so red, Rudolf the Reindeer would be proud. “Little shit” you whisper-yelled. It was on! If the whole of Christmas day was spend with you teasing each other just to see what happened, you were not complaining at all. Anticipation like you have never felt before churned in our stomach and suddenly not being near him felt wrong. Using the toilet and washing your hands you quickly made your way back to the bed. To your utter disappointment, Sirius was already half dressed again when he turned to you. “Awww,” he said, pulling you closer when he saw your pout. He kissed you softly. “Don´t look like that, little dove. We have a brunch to attend to. Unless you want the wrath of one Remus John Lupin be bestowed upon thee. And believe me, that´s no joke. That scrawny bugger can be terrifying” he shook himself. Laughing you stroked his sides and watched his eyes grow heavy again. “Do I have time for a shower?” you asked quietly. He mused for a moment. Then he nodded. “Hurry up though if you won´t let me join” he said mischievously. You giggled and detached from him. “I´ll be down in the kitchen as soon as possible” you said while turning around. “I want to see you naked again”, he called after you. Again giggling, you half turned around in the doorframe of the bathroom giving him a show of your pantie clad bum. “So impatient, Mr. Black” you said teasingly while closing the door. With an incredulous huff he pulled his shirt over his head and shook it to sort out his thoughts again. Staring at the closed bathroom door he heard the shower starting and before thinking about it too much, he turned around and strolled out the room. A shower would probably do wonders for him as well.

Walking down the few steps to his own room he pushed his hand down his face trying to get his grin under control. No avail. Turning onto the landing he almost collided with Remus. “Ooop, sorry mate, wasn´t paying attention” he said. “Clearly” Remus smirked. “Shut up”

Remus looked him up and down. “You know I´m happy for you. She really is good for you” Sirius smiled and clapped his shoulder. “Yeah, thanks mate. Merry Christmas.” Remus smiled at him happily. “That it´ll be. Merry Christmas. Hurry up though, we are almost ready downstairs.” Sirius nodded and before thinking twice about it he pulled Remus in and hugged him close. With a surprised Umph, Remus wound his arms around his back and patted down affectionately. “See you downstairs” Sirius said while letting him go and almost skipped down the small hallway towards his room. Shaking his head but with a soaring heart, Remus made his way down the stairs to the kitchen. Seeing Sirius interact with you made him think of Lily and James. A nostalgic heaviness nestled itself into his chest but this year, it was way lighter than before. He had Sirius back in his life, Harry was under way of becoming a respectable young man and Dora….well Dora. He knew that he will probably never have the courage to actually act on his feelings for her but for once, if only for Christmas, he wasn´t going to dissolve in self-pity. He was already enjoying life more every day. This day would be a good one. And maybe with a bit of liquid courage and some mistletoe, he would ask Dora for a peck on the cheek.

Finishing your shower as quickly as you could you opted on a crimson wool sweater that hugged your waist perfectly and a pair of black faux-leather pants thinking Sirius would surely appreciate them. Choosing just a bit of mascara you blow dried your hair and made your way down to the kitchen. Realising that this could be your most beautiful Christmas yet you hurried your steps. A magical Christmas…what would that entail, you wondered? Hopping down the stairs to the kitchen excitedly your question was partially answered at the bottom. Teary eyed you saw the small Christmas tree in the corner, ornaments draping themselves onto it top to bottom. At the table sat an assortment of the Weasleys, Harry, Remus and Tonks. The kitchen smelled incredible of gravy, turkey, potatoes and vegetables and something sugary sweet. Tonks´ head whipped around when you entered the kitchen and she stood quickly. Hugging you close and whispering a merry Christmas in your ear she steered you to your seat. To your surprise, Sirius was not in the kitchen. Maybe he was changing clothes as well, you thought. While Molly prepared the rest of the food, you had a blast with the twins trying one exploding bonbon after another and laughing hysterically.

Suddenly, white flakes started falling slowly around you. Fascinated you looked up, but there was no cloud. The flakes seemed to appear out of nowhere. But there they were, falling quietly onto your face and gathering onto the table in little heaps. They weren´t cold at all. You turned your head towards the door and there he stood. Arm with his wand in hand outstretched and pointing above your head, you knew it was him that conjured up the fake snow. He put his wand back in his robes and smiled at you. Quickly standing, you made your way over to him. The pull you felt whenever your eyes landed on him guided you into his arms without fail. He smelled incredible and, had he done something to his beard? Curious, you leaned back to look at him properly. His hair was shiny and ever so bouncy, his eyes as grey as the clouds outside, he smelled like rain falling onto crisp, sun warmed autumn leaves, leather and smoke. You closed your eyes momentarily. When you opened them again he was looking at your lips in concentration but soon fixed his irises onto yours again. He did do something with his beard, you noticed. It was trimmed, shiny and…styled. Your fingers shook a tiny bit as you touched the intricate curl at the end of his moustache. Between the ink black strands, every so often interrupted with white streaks, his teeth blinked through as he grinned. The lines around his eyes deepening, making him look even more handsome and intriguing. Wiggling his eyebrows at you he pulled you closer again by your waist leaning down to you.

Surging up impatiently you pressed your lips to his, enjoying his satisfied hum. You knew it, his beard was softer than usual. His one hand landed on the back of your neck lightly, then he broke the kiss. Dreamily he looked down at you before paying attention to the rest of the room. You watched as he crossed the room, whishing everyone merry Christmas and stopping momentarily to talk to Harry and Ron for a moment longer. You couldn’t decide which look you liked more on him. The casual t-shirt and jeans or what he was wearing right now. Black trousers, black button up shirt and a black and silver suit vest that seemed to be painted on him. He looked and moved like a true man of status, even though the silver rings on his fingers as well as his tattoos that peeked from the garments begged to differ. You knew exactly why he chose the button up shirt, remembering your reaction a few days back when he showed you his animagus form. He caught your eye across the table and winked saucily at you. Smirking, you made your way over to him, making sure your hips swayed a bit more than usual. It was effective. His eyes narrowed as he took you in and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Beautiful”, he mumbled when you reached him and sat down. You could feel your cheeks heat up. There was a possibility you would never get used to hearing that from him.

The day just seemed to fly by. The food was delicious and plenty, the kids and grown ups immersed in conversation or shenanigans. Wine was consumed, molten chocolate licked off of fingers (Yes, Sirius made it a whole show only for you when so one was looking) and soon it was evening. Time for presents. You were getting more and more nervous because of the gift you send the twins out to get. It had been a bit difficult obtaining any kind of gift being cooped up at Grimmauld place, but you wouldn´t have changed a thing. The gift you had was stored under your bed, so when you saw Molly finishing up storing away the leftovers of a magnificent dinner, you stood and leaned down to Sirius. He had a questioning look on his face. You smiled at him and said “There is something that I would like to give you.” His eyes grew wide and quickly he grabbed you hand, standing as well. Clearing his throat for the whole kitchen to hear, everyone’s attention was on the two of you. Suddenly, you felt a bit exposed seeing as every single person in the room had either a knowing smirk on their face or seemed like they where about to dash somewhere. “I didn´t realise how late is was getting” Sirius said with a nervous chuckle. “But, I guess it´s time. Everyone, get set, go!” He clapped his hands dramatically and several things happened at once.

Tonks hurried over to you, grabbing your arm and hopping up and down. Molly, Arthur and the rest of the guests moved to the stairs and vanished quickly. With a dumbstruck look on your face you stared at Sirius. He had an excited look on his handsome face. “Go with Dora and listen to everything she tells you, all right?” He grinned. “Sirius, what in the world is going on?” His grin became even wider before he kissed you quickly and, walking backwards made his way to the stairs as well. “Just, take your time and listen to Dora.” With this he walked upstairs while you looked at Tonks with a slightly open mouth. “We need to wait for just a minute”, she grinned. “Where did everybody go?” you asked. She pulled you towards the stairs. “That´s no worry of yours. Come on, follow me.” You made your way up the stairs and to the upper floors. “Tonks, the house is deserted! Did everyone leave?” you asked worriedly. With a reassuring smile she shook her head. “No, no no no. They´re um…somewhere in the house. Come on, hurry.” She pulled you up and up until you were standing in front of your own door. “Tonks,” you said in a mildly annoyed tone. “What is this?” She said nothing, just opened the door and guided you inside. Your breath caught in your throat and your eyes immediately watered. Only Sirius Orion Black would come up with something like this. Quiet snowflakes were dancing in your room, falling like feathers onto the bed, the dresser and…a dress. Mounted on an invisible mannequin, in front of the stained glass window there hovered a dress of the likes you had never seen before. It took your breath away. The floor length gown slowly turned on its axis when you stepped closer. Entranced, you reached your hand out, softly touching the material. It flowed over your hand like water. The delicate deep dark-green dress was covered in what seemed like tiny silver snowflakes. Taking a closer look they not only twinkled but moved slowly across the fabric. Thin silver chains were used as straps. The waterfall neckline was perfectly accentuating the wearers chest without it being too low. The chains of silver fell down over the shoulders to the middle where they connected and twisted elegantly covering the open back somewhat.

You were staring with an open mouth and turned to Tonks. Her hands were pressed to her lips while she looked at you giddily. “You like it?” she asked in a high pitched voice. “Sirius was very specific in what he wanted it to look like” she giggled. “Sirius gave this in order?” you whispered incredulously. She nodded quickly. “Yes, he did. Couple of weeks ago actually. He….he said you never had a real Christmas so he wanted you to have something nice.” Something nice. You looked at Tonks and felt the tears run down your face. “Your cousin is going to be my kryptonite, d´you know that?” you asked with a tight throat. She looked a bit confused at that. “What´s kryp…kryptotide? Sounds like laundry detergent.” She wrinkled her nose and shrugged. Smiling and handing you a tissue from the dresser she threw her arm around your shoulders and hugged you to her side.

You chuckled while drying your cheeks looking closer around the room. Several more things caught your eye. Your bed had more cushions than before, there was a bottle of champagne and two flutes on the dresser and on the comforter of your bed, there lay a beautifully wrapped package. “Oh, Sirius. What have you done?” you breathed when you walked closer to it. Tonks had already thrown herself on the bed and sat Criss Cross on it. Gesturing for you to open the package you slowly sat down on the bed as well and took the package. Grinning while removing the wrapping paper, you gasped when you opened the lid of the sleek black casing. Inside lay a beautiful bracelet. It was made of the same delicate silver chains as the straps of the dress. They wove themselves around each other creating the most beautiful pattern. White gemstones adorned it spiralling upwards. The bracelet would probably wind itself up to your elbow. “This is…so beautiful. I don´t really know what to say”, you said quietly, smiling shily at Tonks. She nodded her dead. “Yea, when it comes to jewellery, Sirius seems to have a very sharp eye.” Suddenly she seemed more serious. “___, I wanted to thank you.” You looked at her puzzled. “I don´t want to say that I know my cousin very well. Our families had a falling out even before I was born and he…he was stuck with the worse part.” She hung her head for a second. “But after actually getting to know him a little AND knowing he is innocent, that all these horrible things said about him aren´t true… seeing him this happy and carefree, Remus says so too by the way…is a relieve I didn´t know I needed. I always felt awful about the fact that he had to stay here.” You nodded in understanding. “But the person you are helping most, is Sirius. That´s probably the reason he wanted to make this day perfect for you. I´m not sure if he knows what else to do” she laughed.

“He doesn´t have to buy me expensive things”, you said slowly, fumbling with the bracelet. Tonks started cackling which confused you to no end. You waited until she stopped wheezing and she continued with heaving breaths. “You are so adorable, seriously. ___, that man…that man is the sole heir to one of the oldest wizarding families of all time!! He could….he could buy you a dress like that each day until he reaches 100 years old and wouldn´t even notice he was spending money!” You gaped at her. Sure, you had a feeling that this house alone must be worth something but this…”That much, huh?” you asked. She nodded again. “Yeah. The only reason you don´t see him parading that fact around is that he hates this fortune. Always has. He resents the Black family and everything that comes with it.” She stood and made her way over to the bottle of champagne. Opening it and winking at you she continued. “But I guess spending his wretched mothers money on a sweet little Muggle,” she handed you the champagne while you giggled. “Seems to satisfy him to no end.”

You took a long sip from your flute and took a deep breath. “Tonks, um…talking about satisfaction…” you could feel your whole face heat up and your scalp began to prickle. Tonks on the other hand held up her palm, took a big sip as well and said “I see where this is going and don´t worry, I come prepared with potion and an open ear.” Your head snapped up at her, a relieved and thankful look in your eyes. “BUT,” she continued. “Sirius is still my cousin so…Eww. I am not drunk enough for this conversation yet.” She winked at you and downed her champagne. Grinning you stood this time, taking the whole bottle and sat back down. “You are amazing, Tonks. Here is to you!” You two toasted and suddenly you began to laugh. “What, what?” Tonks asked. “When….when am I ever going to wear something this fancy?!” you asked pointing at the still rotating gown. Tonks´ eyes went wide. “Oh, that´s right, I haven´t told you. You will wear that dress. Tonight, in fact!” she grinned mischievously. “What? To where?” Tonks suddenly had a dreamy look on her face. “Maybe you haven´t noticed it yet, but Sirius is cauldron over broomstick for you!” You felt your whole body heat up. “So,” she continued. “He kind of threatened everyone to bring fancy clothes for Christmas.” Your eyes went wide. “Threatened?” you squeaked. “No worries, he was civil about it…kind of” she winked. “Right now, everyone is either getting changed or in the library….decorating. It´s going to be a ball, promise.”

You were floored. Absolutely floored and again, close to tears. Shaking your head from side to side to make them go away you smiled at Tonks. “I really get to wear it?” you asked. Tonks leapt from the bed and stretched out her hand. “Yep”, she said happily as she helped you stand. “But before we go downstairs, we need to get ready.” You nodded excitedly. For the next hour, Tonks and you got your hair and makeup done and emptied the bottle of champagne. Giggling and joking around it was time to get dressed. Tonks suddenly said “Oh, I just remembered. Sirius asked me to tell you something.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. You looked at her expectantly. “He said: The black one!” You groaned knowing exactly what he meant. And so apparently did Tonks. She dissolved into a fit of giggles when you pulled the garments from your dresser. Your face as red as a tomato. “Oh, that little philanderer” she said. “Ok, seems like the ick factor about the fact that you want to shag my cousin is wearing off,” you gave her a playful eyeroll. “So, here you go.” She reached into a tiny back she had thrown on the bag and pulled out a little vial. Inside was a shimmering light blue potion. You took it and looked at it questioningly. “This is going to work? No accidents?” Tonks nodded. “Yep, I got it from a friend. She brews it herself, I´m not that good with potions. You can trust me, she is a pro.” With a wink from Tonks you opened the vial and downed its contents. It didn´t taste like anything but you could feel a warm, heavy feeling settle in your belly. Smiling, you looked at Tonks who to your surprise was elbow deep inside the tiny bag, searching for something with a concentrated look on her face. You didn´t even begin to wonder how to physically explain what you were seeing. With a triumphant “Ha!” Tonks pulled out her own dress. A stunning powder pink dress that seemed to come straight from the 50´s.

“Wow,” you said when she held it up. “Remus is going to loose his mind” you said saucily. Now it was Tonks´ turn to blush. “You think?” she asked. “Absolutely! If he does not at least attempt to flirt or do something, I´ll personally hold the mistletoe above your heads.” Smiling shily at you, she took a deep breath. “I hope he does. It´s getting very hard not to jump him at times.” Your mouth fell open. “Dora Tonks, you little horndog” you almost shouted. She grinned and shrugged. “What? He gives me the horny” Dissolving into laughter you clutched your belly and keeled over. “Ok, no more alcohol until we are at the party. Otherwise this is going to escalate” you giggled. “Ok, let´s get dressed. It´s almost time” Tonks said. Suddenly, your heart beat faster and harder in your chest. You had no idea what to expect. You took the gown and went into the bathroom. Getting dressed you looked into the mirror. Only wearing the black lace underwear you did feel sexy. That feeling doubled however as soon as you saw the dress on you. It was absolute perfection. The color perfectly complimenting your skin and hair, you let out a long breath. Turning, you never felt more beautiful. This must be the most gorgeous piece of clothing you had ever owned. Giddy with excitement you opened the door.

Tonks stood by the door looking stunning. Dress and hair the same shade, she wore black sandals and light makeup. When she looked up her jaw went slack. “My Merlin” she breathed. “You look like a goddess,___” You looked at the floor for a minute. “He´s going to lose his fuckin´ mind.” She laughed. Grinning you put on a pair of silver slippers. No one would see those anyway, the dress was floor-length with a slight train. “I can´t wait to see him” you said softly. Tonks hummed in understanding and opened the door. You descended the stairs and when the doors to the library came into few you let out a long whistle. Just at the same moment as the twins did. Standing on either side of the double doors, Fred and George looked stunningly dapper. Both dressed in dark blue cloaks, their hair on point, they bowed dramatically while pushing open the doors. George sent you a sly wink as you grinned at him.

And then you feet planted themselves to the floor. The library had transformed into some sort of white Christmas wonderland. At the far end next to the fireplace were two enormous Christmas trees. Clad in white tinsel, golden and green ornaments, again fake snow falling graciously around them. There was a bar to the left where you could see Kingsley, Arthur and Bill nursing drinks and laughing. Candles floated above your heads emitting soft golden light throughout the room. A giant ice sculpture stood close to the wall where you could see the kids gathering. Something inside the sculpture made some kind of bubbling sound and the teenagers all seemed to be very interested in the colorful liquid flowing around it. All the darkness this room once held seemed to be pushed back into the farthest corners. Holding your breath you saw a big pile of presents to your right strewn across a giant wooden table with claws feet.

Just as you were about to inspect the Christmas trees further you heard a gurgling sound and a sputtered out “D-Dora”. Already grinning you turned and saw Remus clutching his Tumbler of amber liquid so hard his knuckles were white as the snow around you. Tonks squeezed your hand quickly and made her way over to Remus. He looked very handsome as well in a solid black suit. Quickly shaking his head he offered his arm to Tonks and steered her towards the bar. Smiling at their backs you suddenly felt the hairs on your neck and arms stand at attention. Turning slowly, your eyes met Sirius´. He was standing several feet away from you, half hidden under the dancing shadows of a Christmas tree. His eyes however glimmered in the darkness like jewels. When he stepped into the light you swore you died and went to heaven. There was no way this vision of a man held your eyes, was walking towards you. But he was.

He was also wearing something different. His trousers were still black, as was his shirt. But his vest now was a maroon masterpiece with intricate silver patterns. The walking coat he wore matched his vest and gave him even more the appearance of a powerful aristocrat. At least you thought so until he came to a halt in front of you. Opening and closing your mouth without a sound escaping your lips, you looked closer. Silver rings adorned his tattooed fingers as they did this morning. What held your fascination the most however was the half updo of his hair, bearing his ears. One of which had a row of earrings up the shell of it. He stared at you just as intently. Little whisps of hair not held by the updo falling onto his forehead. Lifting his hands to softly grab your waist, you shivered violently. His lips twitched bemused when he opened his mouth. “I just knew you would be a vision wearing that.” You smiled. “Speak for yourself” you croaked and cleared your throat. Your arms wound themselves around his neck as he pulled you closer to him. “I love the hairstyle” you whispered. Sirius grinned, his canines flashing in the firelight. “The earrings are new though” He nodded. “Yeah, I haven´t worn these for 18 years at least. Thought maybe I was too old now” You shook your head immediately. “I like them. They are very you” you said lovingly. “Well, then they stay for now.”

With these words his fingertips caressed your back while his head dipped down. Smiling, he kissed you. Tell him, tell him, say it now!! It would be perfect. While his lips moved in tandem with yours you lost all sense of time however. When he broke the kiss he kept your face close and whispered against your lips. “That dress on you, woman…I don´t know what I want to see more. You in that dress or out of it.” Giggling you kissed him again moving your arms from his neck and winding them around his waist. “Sirius Black, what have you done? Not just the dress, which I absolutely adore” you said quickly. “But this whole room. It´s so beautiful.” You felt his chest swell with pride when he stepped back and took your hands in his. “I wanted this to be perfect. I have the means to make it not just a party, but a ball. So I did. Merry Christmas, my love.” You smiled at him with tears in your eyes and again pulled him into a passionate kiss. “Thank you, Sirius. For all this. It´s perfect.” He squeezed you again and lead you over to the ice sculpture. With his arm around your waist and a big smile he approached Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny.

“___, you look incredible.” Hermione said in aw and gaped at your dress. She was wearing a purple dress that suited her very much. “Thank you, Hermione. You all look so dashing tonight. I want to thank you for helping with this” you said in a calm voice. They all ppsshhaaa-ed and Harry looked at the two of you in a pleased way. Smiling at you he toasted his bottle of butterbeer. “I´ll get us some drinks, love” Sirius said an made his way over to the bar. Staring after him you only managed to look anywhere else when Hermione and Ginny started giggling. With red cheeks you turned around and grinned embarrassed. “What´s this, then?” you asked in a high pitched voice and gestured to the colorful liquid pouring from the ice statue. “Ah, that” Harry said smiling. “That is giggle water.” You raised both eyebrows. “It tickles when you drink it” he clarified.

As it turns out, wizard parties only differed from Muggle ones in décor and fashion. Fascinated you looked around the room all night, Sirius glued to your side, and admired the wardrobe of different wizards. Some were wearing simple suits like Remus, mostly two pieces. Sirius seemed the only one wearing a three piece. Others like Kingsley and some other wizard from the order however wore the most magnificent cloaks. Kingsley´s dark skin glowed while the solid golden fabric clad to his shoulders. The other wizard wore a cloak of violent acid green that made him look like a walking, talking radioactive warning sign.

You were currently standing over by the bar with Tonks and Remus, laughing at Tonks´ story about how she drove her mother mad one summer by constantly changing her face. “She always thought she picked up the wrong kid from the train station”, she giggled uncontrollably. Remus, who had already had several drinks (no doubt trying to gather some courage), laughed out loud and leaned his shoulder on Tonks. She looked up at him with glowing cheeks but couldn´t hold the eye contact long. At that moment, the twins brought a giant gramophone into the library and pushed it onto the massive table. “Presents!” They shouted just as the gramophone started and upbeat, melodic music filled the room. Grinning, you looked up at Sirius over your shoulder and took his hand. “This way,” you said giddily. With a chuckle and a raised eyebrow he followed you obediently.

You steered him to the fireplace and while the Weasleys, Harry and Hermione tore into their presents, you were not at all surprised when you saw your present for Sirius sitting prettily on the table. Suddenly a nervousness overcame you. You took the present and made your way over to Sirius who was eying you a bit suspiciously. Flushing, you held the present out to him. He took it carefully without looking away from your eyes. “For me”? he asked carefully. “How did you…?” “The twins”, you shrugged. “They helped.” Sirius turned his head towards the twins who leaned against the table, their new scarfs hanging from their necks. “Just so you know, Sirius,” Fred said and pointed at the present. “We want one, once you are familiar with it.”

Puzzled, he looked back at the present. You took the drink from his hand and put it on the mantlepiece along with your own. “Open it” you said sweetly. It seemed almost like he needed the permission before he carefully but quickly got rid of the parchment wrapping paper. He opened the lid and your heart almost gave out. His face changed from being dumbstruck to pure glee and gratitude. He didn´t even say much, just looked from your face to the present in his hands. Without hesitation he took out the old fashioned tattoo gun and held it to the light. “This is a…” he spoke in awe. “Muggle tattoo gun” you completed his sentence, nervously stepping from one foot to the other. “You like it?” you asked carefully. He focused his eyes on you. Setting the tattoo gun on the coffee table next to him he took two steps towards you and slammed his lips to yours. The next moment you felt his arms come around your lower back lifting you up. With a little squeal, you clutched his face in our hands while he turned on the spot, never breaking this kiss. Setting you onto your feet again he carefully pulled you to his chest and buried his face in your hair. “I received the most perfect gift the moment Dumbles brought you into my house. Thank you, darling. I love it.” Contently you snuggled into his chest and felt the satisfied rumble right next to your ear. Opening your eyes you saw several pairs of eyes trained on you and Sirius. Molly sniffled in a corner clutching Arthurs arm. Fred and George had mock disgust written over their faces but fist bumped none the less. Hermione and Ginny giggled with red faces and Harry looked very interested in his new pullover, thumbling with it but grinning ear to ear.

More presents were exchanged and muffled rock music from the 60´s and 70´s flowed around you. You were sitting contently next to Sirius, laughing along with his stories and watching everyone handle themselves in different stages of drunk. The kids had excused themselves to their rooms, no doubt continuing the party there in their own pace. Suddenly, a slightly tipsy Sirius turned to you with an evil grin. “Wanna see how I used to fuck with Remus?” he asked while lighting a cigarette. You eyed Remus across the room with a snicker. When you nodded your head, Sirius stood up and went to the gramophone. Curious you followed him. With the cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, he fumbled with the device for a second before he started giggling like a small boy, put his forefinger to his lips and pointed at Remus exhaling the smoke. Your attention on Remus, a song started.

youtube

The moment the first cords started playing, Remus whipped around completely, staring disbelievingly at Sirius who wore a shit eating grin moving his hips comically left and right to the rhythm of the song.

I see a pale moon risin´. I see trouble on the way….

“Sirius!” That was Mollies voice. Trying to sound scolding but with a slight sway in her voice. Several people started snorting into their drinks as a mortified Remus made his way over to you. Tonks was standing next to Molly, doubling over with laughter, wiping at her eyes.

Don´t go around tonight,

Well it´s bound to take your life

There´s a bad moon on the rise

“Turn that off!” Remus hissed in a panicked voice and a sidewards glace to you. “Come on, Rem!” Sirius bellowed. “It´s funny!” “Sirius, please! She´s not aware-“ Your head snapped up to him. “About your furry little problem?” you asked. Remus looked like he just swallowed a toad. Eyes huge, he stuttered some nonsense. “Before you think about hexing Sirius” you continued. “I figured it out myself. It´s not that hard, honestly. And Sirius is right, it is funny” you said, dissolving into giggles again. Blushing to the tip of his nose, Remus didn´t know where to look. Sirius threw his arm around his friends shoulders and shook him a little. “You need to lighten up a little, Rem. No one here gives a hippogriff’s arse about you being a werewolf. We know who you are.” He gestured to the people around you. Nodding intensively, you came over and drunkenly ruffled Remus´ hair. He looked at you like you had just lost your mind until his eyes fixed themselves on Tonks. Sirius took your hand and moved a bit away from Remus. Your hand went to your mouth when you observed how Tonks walked over to Remus, gave him a sweet smile while touching his face lightly and then…leaned in and pecked his cheek lovingly. You would have thought Remus would lose his balance but all you saw were his shoulders visibly relaxing, his breath escaping his chest slowly while he leaned into Tonks´ touch. “Finally,” Sirius breathed in mock exasperation next to you. “Some progress.” Nodding you took the cigarette from him, holding eye contact you put it to your lips and inhaled the smoke. His face changed from questioningly raising an eyebrow to growling low in his throat leaning in and kissing you hard.

You thought it was best to leave Remus and Tonks to it, so you pulled Sirius to a quiet corner of the room. Sitting down on one of the big armchairs, he pulled you onto his lap. Making yourself comfortable he chuckled and whispered in your ear. “Are you terribly drunk, my love?” You shook your head. “No. Tipsy at best. I still know right from wrong” you answered truthfully. A satisfied growl came from his chest while his hands started wandering. “Perfect” he answered. You couldn´t tell if he meant the fact that you weren´t that drunk or anything else. Nosing the length of your neck while stubbing out the cigarette you had shared, he gave a content sigh. “How are you feeling?” you asked quietly while playing with his hair. He raised his head looking you in the eyes. “Content, warm,” he breathed. “Happy.” That one word out of his mouth was a better gift than any of the extravaganza around you. “Really?” you asked with a watery smile. He smiled right back, nodding. “Really.” He said. “Largely because of you” You looked away bashfully until his fingers grasped your chin and tilted your head back, facing his. “I´m telling the truth,___” he said earnestly. “You made this the most wonderful Christmas since before Lily and James. And not just for me” he said, pointing in Remus´ direction. You kissed his forehead and leaned yours to his. “I would do anything to see you be happy” you said shakily. Kissing at this point seemed like the most natural thing for the both of you agreeing on something. Or just using it as a tool to convey what words were too weak to do.

It felt like hours just sitting there, breathing each other in, touching innocently while the world stood still. Sirius felt light as air, his hands around your waist. This wasn´t teasing. This was exploring, getting to know the other. “Will you dance with me, beautiful?” he whispered when the gramophone started playing a slow, swinging tune. Your eyes grew a bit wider at the thought. “I…I never learned how to dance.” You said bashfully. Sirius smiled and stood, setting you down. “Just follow my lead, my love” he said while taking your hand. He lead you to the space between the sofas and the fireplace and lifted your hand to his shoulder. His came around your waist, lightly settling on your back. Turning on your axis you swayed back and forth. Soon your head landed on his shoulder while his arms pulled you closer to his body. It was like a cheesy, bad movie but the one person that dared to interrupt your dancing would die by your hand.

When one person after another excused themselves back to their rooms, you knew it was time for a nightcap and…well. The last half hour you remained in Sirius´ arms was almost torture. Your skin was on fire and although you loved the whole evening, Sirius´ eyes promised you something you wanted even more. Only you two, Tonks and Remus remining, Sirius took four small glasses and a bottle of Firewhisky to the fireplace. Handing out one each, he raised his glass, as did all of you. “I´d like to say thanks” he said while pulling you close to him. Tonks and Remus stood suspiciously closer to each other than they normally did and even if the light was low, you definitely saw how their pinkies connected. “You all made this Christmas less of an ordeal than it has been the last few years.” Remus snorted and rolled his eyes while clanking his glass with Sirius´. “Stop it with the sob story and make every day as good as you can make it.” He scolded him. With a surprised look on his face, Sirius started laughing and toasted to Tonks and then turned to you. Tapping his glass lightly to yours he looked deeply into your eyes when he downed his drink. You could feel your insides burning without even having drank the whisky yet. Doing just that you threw your head back with the glass on your lips. Grey eyes roaming over your neck and shoulders you heard Tonks clearing her throat. “I don´t know about you Remus, but the tension in here is getting to me” she winked. Remus sighed and hung his head dramatically. Smiled at her however and nodded slightly. “We´ll be off” she sang and hugged you closely. “Have fun” she whispered in your ear and with a fist bump to Sirius´ shoulder she skipped to the doors. With a tight lipped smile, Remus hugged Sirius, patting him on the back. He hugged you as well whispering Merry Christmas to you and walked over to Tonks, leaving the library with her.

The moment the doors swung close the mood switched. Something seemed to burst, like a bubble. Sirius´ hands were on you within the second and with catlike movements he picked you up and sat you down on the table. Peppering kisses all over your throat and collar bone. The dress you wore made it impossible to spread your legs wide enough to let him get closer. A frustrated whine came from your throat when you tried to pull his head closer to your chest. You scooted down the table onto your feet again. As you leaned slightly back, you pulled Sirius over you. Placing his hand on either side of you on the table his breath came out in pants across your chest. “You taste incredible” he said. “Godrick, that dress. Do you know how delectable you look? Hm?” One hand came to your side sliding over the fabric of the dress. “Couldn´t take my eyes off you if I wanted to. When you came in I thought I was dreaming.” You whined at his words. His hand on your side moved upwards towards your shoulder, skimmed across your collarbone and finally moved downwards. Resting on the swell of your breasts, his eyes narrowed when he saw them quickly moving up and down with your breathing. Completely enthralled, he pulled the material of the waterfall neckline to the side and made a little satisfied sound when he started to uncover the black lace underneath. “You´re wearing it” he said with a slight smirk on his face. When you looked at him, you saw black pools instead of silver. “You asked me to” you simply said.

Nodding, he kissed you and immediately licked your lower lip for access which you granted. While stroking your tongue with his own his hands began to wander again. One moving to your bum, squeezing lightly while the other covered your breast. The moan you let him hear seemed to spur him on. His hand on your breast moved more deliberately towards your nipple. Even through the lacy material, his circling palm across your nipple made you shiver and shake in his arms. You could already feel his excitement pressing into your hip. Groaning he rolled his hips into you. You had trouble thinking or what to with your hands. So you buried one underneath the upper portion of his hairdo and the other pulled him in by the waist. “Shit,” he rasped. “Sweetheart, do you still want this? Tell me, please” he panted onto your lips. You nodded quickly while pulsing with excitement. “Yes!” you answered breathlessly. “Yes, I want it. Sirius please, let me have you.” He took a huge gulp of air and nodded. With obvious discontent he stepped back, took your hand in his and pulled you towards the door. You started giggling when you almost tripped, wondering how you would get up the stairs to your room quietly when Sirius suddenly turned right on the landing. Oh. OH! His room. Yes, yes please. He looked at you with glowing cheeks and said “My room is closer. Is that alright?” You nodded while a grin split your face. “Yes, absolutely” you said. He slowed down, suddenly pressing you to a door to your right. “Good,” he spoke in your ear. “We´re here.” Kissing you passionately he reached behind you and opened the door. He walked you through it without breaking the kiss, kicking the door close again behind him.

___________________________________________________________

As always, thank you very much for reading. Please consider interacting with my post so we can push this fanfic to more people that might be interessted. ;) See you in the next part!

@twilightlover2007

@momorina

@thinking-bucky

@clockworkherondale

#sirius x reader #older sirius black #old sirius black x reader #post azkaban sirius black #ootp #remus lupin #nymphadora tonks #hp smut #hp fluff #Youtube

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rebelscumlena · 2 years ago

Text

Space Sailor

Pairing: Marnie x Willy (Stardew Valley)

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: It’s common knowledge in Pelican Town that there’s something going on between Marnie and Mayor Lewis. But how exactly did Marnie end up with Lewis? Wasn’t she seeing someone prior to him? Could it possibly be the fisherman who’s constantly watching her from across the Saloon? Why aren’t they together anymore?

A/N: Not the way I expected to get back into fanfiction, but I’ll take it. The Dynamic Writing Duo is back at it again! This idea was developed a week ago when @javier-djarin and I went down a rabbit hole of SV conspiracies, and the song Space Cowboy by Kacey Musgraves made it complete. Thank you as always to @javier-djarin for being my beta on my stories and giving me encouragement to write. Your usual recipe of teeth rotting fluff and soul crushing angst is here! Enjoy! 🐮

The music from the jukebox and the smell of pizza flooded Willy’s senses as he entered the Stardrop Saloon. Another Friday night meant just about everyone had shown up to celebrate the end of another long week. The younger ones were off playing pool in the side room, Robin and Demetrius were tearing up the dance floor, and Clint was waiting at their usual table with a cold pint ready for him.

“How’s the ocean, Willy?” Clint asked, sliding over the glass of beer as Willy took his seat.

“Same as usual. How’s the forge?”

“Same as usual.”

The two friends chuckled at their little banter before clinking their glasses and taking a swig. They fell into some light conversation about their weeks, occasionally getting up to get another round. Although Willy always made sure that it was Clint’s turn to get drinks when Emily was up at the bar counter. He was a good friend in that way. He understood more than most what it meant to pine after someone.

Willy finished his pint just as Clint went up for another round. He focused his gaze on the little droplets of ale running down the side of his glass before pooling at the bottom. He knew what would happen if his eyes wandered across the Saloon. But desire got the best of him. Willy’s eyes swept across the bar, landing on her.

Marnie had always been able to draw his attention in a crowd. At all the festivals and events held over the years, he never failed to miss her. As painful as it was to think about their past, he preferred her attention then compared to now, because every time he took notice of her nowadays, Lewis was always lingering in her shadow. It was no secret the mayor was interested in Marnie, even though he was adamant there was nothing going on between them.

Lewis returned to the petite woman with another round of drinks, drawing a huff out of the old mariner. Sure, nothing going on, Willy thought as he drew his attention back to the droplets in his glass. Where was Clint with a new one?

Marnie had seen Willy’s lingering gaze. She always noticed when he was watching her. She could feel his gaze like a gentle caress: warm and comforting. Despite the many years that had passed and the fact that Mayor Lewis had been keeping her attention as of late, she wished Willy would look at her the same way he used to all those years ago. Back then his gaze was tender and loving, now it was always filled with remorse.

It was the summer before Marnie turned 20 when Willy and his Pappy had decided to settle in Pelican Town. She remembered seeing him around town as she grew up, but he always seemed to disappear the next day. Guess that’s what being raised by a mariner meant. But Willy’s Pappy was getting on in years, and so Willy had decided to open the Fish Shop down by the docks. He could make money and still let his Pappy enjoy the salty air.

It started as all young love usually does with a summer romance. She had just gone to buy a fishing pole and some bait for her older brother, and suddenly she was being charmed by Willy. The slightly older young man was tanned from all his time being out on the water and he smelled of mead and the ocean, instead of the piss and vinegar she heard most sailors described with. Willy was mild mannered and humble. That day she left with her brother’s birthday gifts and a promise to meet Willy that evening on the docks. And every night after that…

“Marnie, dear?”

Marnie jolted back to the present, her eyes focused on Lewis who was looking at her in slight annoyance.

“I’m sorry, Lewis. What were you saying?” she asked, taking a sip of her drink.

“I was just saying that Pierre claims I’m going to have to start special ordering truffle oil from now on since it’s too expensive to keep in stock. Isn’t that just ridiculous? And after all the corners I’ve cut for him.” Lewis guffawed in derision before taking a long pull from his drink.

Marnie gave a light chuckle, her mind beginning to wander again when she noticed Clint showing Willy a crystal he pulled from his apron.

Quartz, Marnie mused. He’s always been a sucker for quartz.

She had noticed he was collecting quartz one summer after his Pappy had passed. Not thinking much of it, Marnie ended up bringing him some quartz she had found on a hike up near the mountain.

“I don’t know why you’re collecting them, but I saw this one and figured you could use it,” she stated, pressing the little crystal into the palm of his hand.

He gave her the warmest smile, his eyes watering a bit before pulling her into a deep embrace. Without a word, he then pulled her up from the dock they had been sitting on and took her inside the Fish Shop. Behind the counter, he pulled out a little wire hanger that had bits of quartz hanging off of various length strings: a sun catcher.

“I was thinking of hanging it up in the windows. Figured it would make this place a little more homey,” Willy said, a blush slowly rising to his cheeks as he rubbed the back of his head, “especially when you come around.”

Marnie had jumped across the counter to plant a firm kiss on his lips, the largest grin on her face. She’d known how she felt about Willy for a while, but she waited for him to give her some sign that he felt the same: this was her sign.

After that day, it was rare that Marnie wasn’t down at the docks. Her parents were initially against the idea of Marnie spending all her time with the fisherman, but so long as her chores at the Ranch were completed, there wasn’t much they could say. Marnie was happy, and there were worse options than the fisherman.

Meanwhile, Willy was still in slight disbelief that he had managed to catch Marnie’s eye in the first place. She was the prettiest woman in town, and surely had better prospects than a weathered man who would perpetually smell of fish. Yet she had agreed to meet him that evening all those years ago, where he taught her how to bait a fishing pole so she could show her brother. She had come back almost every night since, joining him to watch the sunset and chat about their days. After a few months, they’d shared their first kiss on the docks. They’d exchanged birthday gifts, told each other secrets no one else would know, and even renamed his Pappy’s boat the Manatee. It wasn’t too long after that Willy was presenting Marnie with a bouquet of flowers.

But then he’d received a job offer out in the Fern Islands. It would make good money, but it meant Willy would be out at sea for months. He’d been nervous to tell Marnie about it one evening as they sat on the docks to watch the sunset. But when she told him to take the job, he was stunned. “And when you come home,” she had said, “I’ll be here on this dock waiting for you.”

The disappearing sunlight outlined her face perfectly, and he swore she’d never looked more beautiful than she had in that moment with a daisy from her bouquet nestled in her braid.

A week later, Willy and Marnie shared a passionate kiss on the docks before he set off on the Manatee. The inevitable months seemed to drag, but then a year passed. Willy had finished the job, but had picked up another with the prospect of catching an extremely rare species of fish. But the fish eluded the fisherman, and by then, the Manatee was in desperate need of repairs. More months passed by before the Manatee was ready to set sail again. Having used most of his money for repairs, Willy needed to take on more jobs to make up his losses. Then there were the storms that forced him to try alternate routes back to Pelican Town, which drained more of his supplies and money, and required him to take on more jobs.

Before he knew it, five years had passed by the time he docked back in Pelican Town. The Manatee was in worse shape than when he left, forcing him to retire the ship until he could come up with more money and materials to get her properly fixed. What little money he had managed to earn was barely enough to be called a profit after losing so many years at sea. But worst of all was the knowledge that Marnie wasn’t waiting on the docks for him.

He couldn’t blame her, especially since he had stopped sending letters after the first year. Between all the jobs he had barely found enough time to sleep, let alone write and send a letter. But more than anything, he felt ashamed. After the first job finished he realized how much he had missed the sea. The thrill in his blood when he woke up bobbing to the rhythm of the waves, the rush of excitement as he navigated through both calm and storm, and the sheer joy of just being out on the open water. It was his first love, and it had managed to surpass the love he felt for Marnie and the desire to start a life with her. So he stopped sending letters and instead let the sea take him wherever she deemed fit, hoping that somehow Marnie would understand.

So it was no surprise when he ventured into the Stardrop Saloon on his first night back and found Marnie and Lewis occupying a table together. Admittedly, Willy was surprised it was Lewis at the table with her. Then he remembered how the mayor had always had an eye on the young woman even when they were together. Marnie’s gaze moved to him, and Willy waited with anticipation for what she might say or do. He expected wrath from her, but instead was given a small smile and a nod before she turned her attention back to Lewis who was rambling about the governor coming to visit. Too stunned to do much else, Willy nodded back before heading to the bar.

Marnie found herself thinking back to the day he left and everything changed. Somehow as she watched the Manatee take him away, she had a sinking feeling that he might not return. She would tell herself every time that wasn’t the case, that he would return after a job or maybe two and they’d turn the Fish Shop into a home and raise cows on the beach. Then the letters stopped coming and suddenly waiting on the docks made her feel silly rather than hopeful. Such is the life of a mariner, she would tell herself. So she forced herself to move on, and over time came to the conclusion that the sea would’ve called to him one way or another. She had noticed he was getting restless, and sometimes found him gazing longingly out into the horizon. Perhaps it was better that it happened before they had actually started a life together.

So when he walked into the Saloon that night, she felt every emotion she had bottled over five years run through her before she landed on contentment. Willy had chosen his path, and she had learned to become okay with that. She gave him a small smile to convey her understanding and a nod to welcome him home. All the while she focused on tampering down her beating heart as she turned her attention back to Lewis. Yet without fail every time he walked into the Saloon after that night, her heart would speed up in a way it never would around Lewis.

Before long, Gus was making the announcement for last call. Most everyone had cleared out aside from the late nighters. Pam was slowly falling asleep into her drink once again, and Elliott was visiting the toilet before his walk home. Lewis had gone to settle the tab with Gus, leaving Marnie to finish her drink and prepare for the walk back to the Ranch. She noticed Clint saying his farewells to Willy, throwing one last gaze at Emily before making his way out into the night. Willy nodded after his friend, puffing away contentedly on his pipe as his gaze moved to Marnie.

When their eyes locked, all the good memories flooded back: Marnie showing Willy how to bake pumpkin pie, Willy teaching Marnie how to rig up a crab pot; summer nights drinking mead on the deck of the Manatee, winter days making out in the hay loft while the cows watched in a mixture of curiosity and boredom. Then for the briefest second, Marnie thought of what life would’ve been like. Waking up to the call of seagulls or bringing the cows in at night? Teaching their kids to fish at the Festival of Ice? Holding hands while watching the Moonlight Jellies? A giddy grin broke out on Marnie’s face that was for Willy’s eyes only, which caused the edges of his lips to move up just a tad.

“Ready to go, Marnie?” Lewis called, walking back over to her.

The grin morphed into a more reserved smile as Marnie turned her attention to Lewis, nodding and getting up to follow him out.

Willy watched as the two departed, Marnie’s gaze every so subtly going back to him before she disappeared into the night with the mayor. The fisherman softly chuckled around his pipe, wondering what she was thinking about before getting up to stretch as Elliott joined him.

“Ready, Willy?” the younger man asked.

“Aye, lad. Let’s get going,” Willy responded, following him out. They made their way south through town and back to their homes. They passed Lewis’s house on the way, and Willy tapped out the ashes from his pipe on the steps of the Manor.

Elliott gave the older man a smirk, shaking his head in amusement. “Must you do that every time we walk by?”

“Gotta give him some actual work to do,” Willy responded, a cheeky smirk on his face as he stowed his pipe in his pants.

The two men continued their walk, and once Elliott parted ways to his home, Willy was left to approach the docks on his own. The wood creaked under each step, and he took a deep inhale of the salty air. For a moment, he was a younger man sitting next to a pretty woman underneath the stars and figuring out how to raise cows on the beach. As he gazed forlornly out into the dark, Willy realized that kind of love ran deeper than the sea. And perhaps one day, the tide would come back in his favor.

#stardew valley fanfic #sv fanfic #marnie x willy #marnie stardew valley #willy stardew valley #marnie deserves better than mayor lewis #willy deserves love

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spctrsgf · 2 years ago

Text

bandages

summary: Poe’s gone for too long, and the worry is starting to gnaw at your brain. (part 9 of @/ham_zero (tt)’s HTS !)

word count: 2.2k

warnings: poe x medic!reader, language, mentions of death and blood, angst and then pure teeth rotting fluff

a/n: hello besties im back at it again with my fav flyboy and HTS! (yet another) big thanks to @roselement for proofing this monstrosity! anyways hope you guys are well

a/n pt 2: lol the gif literally has nothing to do with the story but it was the best i could do okay

“Y/n.”

The sound of Finn’s voice wasn’t enough to cut through the thick layer of worry that draped over you. You paced across your small office. Your mind displayed horrible scenarios, spiraling you into a deeper worry than you already were in.

The man shook his head, catching your shoulders and stopping your pacing. He waited as your glassed eyes flicked across the room before finally focusing on his face. You gaze studied his face for any indication of why he was here, because as of right now, you were denying the gnawing feeling that was sending you into a frenzy.

Poe wasn’t- he’s fine, right? That was the question that occupied every thought you had, shaking you down to the core and preventing you from doing anything else but worry.

And oh Maker, Finn could see it in your face. The bags under your normally bright eyes, the grim line that resembled your lips, the way your eyebrows pulled together and created a wrinkle on your forehead. Even your stance with him, one of your closest friends, was defensive.

“Finn?” Your voice was gravelly from crying and not speaking, your eyes weary but hopeful.

The man sighed, dropping his arms. “I’m sorry, still nothing.”

You swallowed sharply. “Okay.”

“Y/n-“

“It’s fine! Don’t say sorry, I’m okay.”

Finn raised an eyebrow. “Mhm.”

“What?” Your tone now matched your stance as you stepped back.

“You look like you haven’t slept in weeks. No, years.”

You sighed, plopping down on the bed made for patients. “I feel like I haven’t. Really it’s only been a few days.”

Finn gingerly placed himself next to you, resisting the urge to succumb to the same sadness. “I know it’s hard, but he wouldn’t want you to worry.”

You scoffed. “If that was his wish, then he’d be back by now.”

“He’s gonna be okay.”

“Is he?” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you voiced your fear.

“I don’t know for sure, but,” you glanced at Finn, ready to hear his uplifting words. “This is Poe we’re talking about here. Poe Dameron. He’s a good man and an even better pilot. He’s the best of the best, and he hasn’t let us down yet. Let’s not give up hope on our flyboy now, okay?”

You nodded silently. “Ill give him one more day. Then-“

Finn wrapped an arm around you, scooting closer. “Don’t go there.”

You bit your lip. “Okay.”

Finn turned to look at you, eyes downcast and hands wrapped tightly around one another, but he could see the sad smile blooming on your lips. “You need to sleep, y/n.”

You ignored his earlier comment, only offering a “Thank you, Finn.”

The said man’s eyebrows knitted. “For what?”

“For always being there,” you looked at him. “For cheering me up when I feel like I’m gonna lose him forever.”

Finn smiled. “Anytime.”

——

You woke to a beeping sound, causing you to jolt and shoot upwards. Your head swiveled violently as you assessed your surroundings. You vaguely remember Finn leaving, demanding you to go to sleep.

Huh. You must’ve fallen asleep.

You cheered happily, over the moon for a grand total of five seconds, which is when you remembered three things. One, you weren’t able to sleep because Poe was gone. Two, you’d slept for ten hours. Three, that really loud and annoying ringing was the emergency bell. Someone was coming in for help.

You shot up, gathering your medical tools and readying yourself for immediate action. The shouts from outside got louder, and you winced at the ferocity of Snap’s worried voice. And then the door was shoved open and the entire Black squadron was crowding into your office, Snap carrying the wounded person. You looked down and-

No.

No, no no no no no-

You swallowed your scream and instructed Snap to place him down. Tears dotted your vision as you bent over your boyfriends bleeding face. You assessed him immediately, shoving your worry out of your head and focusing on helping him. You cried softly as you trailed your hands down his body gingerly, testing for anything out of the ordinary.

You let out a heavy sigh as you decided that it was mostly cuts and bruises, no punctured kidneys or internal bleeding. You got the medical assistant droid you had to scan him to make sure before turning and telling the squadron the news.

“He’s got a shit ton of cuts, as you can see. He’s taken some damage, but everything will heal and he’ll be able to fly again.” You smiled at the sighs of relief from the pilots.

“How long till he’s back?” Karé questioned from behind some heads.

“I would say a few days? I got some bacta that Leia wants me to use.” You answered as per BB-8’s frantic beeping.

The squadron filed out after that, but Snap faltered at the door. “L/n?”

You looked up from where you were applying bacta to a deep cut on Poe’s lower abdomen. “Mhm?”

“Thank you.”

You smiled grimly. “It’s my job.”

“No, it’s more than just a job. You’re saving our best pilot, but also our leader and friend. Thank you for that.”

You nodded. “Anytime. And I mean that. I don’t care if it’s 3am. Come to me if he’s hurt.”

It was Snap’s turn to smile. “I promise.”

You returned to the task at hand, spraying the bacta onto the rest of his cut. Your eyebrows were pulled up and your gaze flickered over the half unzipped flight suit, watching his chest rise and fall.

He’s okay, You told yourself. He’s okay, he’s alive, he’s breathing.

But he wasn’t awake. And that’s what was really worrying you. It was that little part of your brain saying that he might never wake up.

——

You spun in your chair to face Poe for what felt like the millionth time, constantly making sure his chest rose and fell. You turned back to finish a bland report, eyes droopy and tired. Exasperated, you threw down the data pad and walked over to the pilot.

It was then that you realized his hands up close. You winced at the dried blood around the knuckles, supposedly from when the glass window of his x-wing had shattered. Grabbing gauze and some wet wipes, you picked up his right hand, gingerly wiping it down.

To your surprise, Poe grumbled drowsily, trying to yank his hand back into his chest. Your grip tightened, but the rest of your body froze. “Poe?” You said quietly, eyes wide. Your voice must’ve triggered something in him, because he shot upwards. Or he tried to, but was held down by your firm push on his chest.

“Y/n?” He responded, voice as gravelly as yours was but oh so familiar, wrapping you in a blanket.

“Oh thank the Maker.” You dropped his hand and scooted closer, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“You sound relieved.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling away. “I thought you were dead.”

“You have such little faith in my ability to not die.” He cracked a half grin.

“Poe! Not funny.”

“Alright, I’m sorry.”

“You better be.” You huffed, picking his hand back up and cleaning the last of the blood.

He winced. “That hurts.”

You let out a small chuckle. “It’s antiseptic, it’s gonna sting a bit.”

“Well, don’t you have some sort of magical medic shit that helps the pain go away?”

You grabbed his other hand, wiping away the blood with a smile. “It’s barely anything and I’ll be done in like ten seconds. Relax.”

“C’mon sweets, gimme some numbing agent.” His eyes pulled into a plead.

You chortled, placing a kiss in between his brows. “I’m done, silly.”

“Oh,” Poe looked down at his now clean hands. “Never mind then.”

You held up the gauze. “Last step!”

Poe groaned. “You said you were done.”

You sent him a smirk. “And here I was thinking you liked jokes.”

“You suck.”

“You love me.”

Poe fell silent after your sentence, and you focused on wrapping his hands, unaware that you said something… big. You hummed a tune you’d been introduced to by Finn, scooting closer to Poe’s face to place his arm in a more comfortable position.

Meanwhile, Poe watched you intently. He admired the careful precision your deft fingers practiced as you wrapped the gauze, always tying it just tight enough to be snug but not cut off his circulation. Your eyes were bright and happy, but he could see the bags under your eyes from lack of sleep. He internally cursed himself for putting you through that dreadful downward spiral of worry.

He stared and stared, watching your eyelashes flutter and the oh so soft touch of your fingers on his skin. Oh Maker, he missed you so much. The close attention from you wasn’t new, but it felt so different now that he knew that you worried about him, couldn’t sleep while he was gone.

He wasn’t used to care. Sure, he had Leia, but she was like a mother and he saw her extend the same curtsies to others she’d picked up from various places. He appreciated it all, but it wasn’t exclusive to him.

But you. You only did this to him. He’d watched you work, because it was mesmerizing and he took any time he could to be with you. The worry and the insomnia and the intense care and the special gauze? That was secluded to him and him only. And the bacta. You hadn’t told him, but he could see the way the skin on his lower abdomen was healing unnaturally quick. The pure love that you gave him was something he didn’t feel worthy of and he didn’t see what you saw in him, but it was making him flustered nonetheless.

Maker.

He was flustered? Poe couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt like this. The thought only made his face redder, and he resisted the urge to bring his free hand up to cover his hot face.

And so when you finished wrapping his hand and looked up, you were met with Poe’s red face and his eyes darting anywhere but your own face. You furrowed your eyebrows, unaware that he was ruffled.

Your eyes widened sharply and your hands flew to his face. “Poe?” Your tone was laced with so much worry that his face only became redder. “What’s going on? Are you okay? Do you have a fever?”

He kept his eyes looking outward, becoming slightly glassy with his lack of blinking. You brushed back the curls from his forehead, touching the back of your hand to it. “No fever, but his eyes are glassy,” you racked your brain for a solution. “What the hell is going on?”

Poe made the mistake of meeting your eyes, full and worried but as bright as ever. His hands covered his face in flash and he groaned.

You frowned. “Poe?”

“Mmm.” Came his muffled response as his legs curled up.

“What’s going on? Are you hot? I can turn down the thermostat-“

Poe realized then that he was causing you more worry and was just gonna make it worse, so he dropped his knees and grabbed your face in one fluid motion. You squeaked in surprise, nearly falling into his chest but catching yourself just in time, leading you to have one arm on either side of his body. “Huh?” You murmured as he tilted his forehead to yours.

“I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” The worry was evident in your tone.

“Yeah,” he took a deep breath. “You just make me overwhelmed sometimes.”

The pieces clicked, flushing your cheeks immediately. He was red because you made him flustered. Poe Dameron, flustered? It was hard to wrap your head around. You were having even more trouble comprehending that you did it. You. Your mind raked over what you possibly could have done to make him flustered, but it wasn’t working properly after that confession. The lack of sleep you had gotten in the past few days didn’t help either.

“I did that?” You motioned to his face.

“Yeah?” He shrugged to play off the nervousness undertone.

“Wha- how?” You voiced your thoughts timidly.

“I don’t really know,” he mumbled, full of lies. “You just- you care so much. It’s new for me.”

You pulled away from him, frustrated at what he felt. “You’re the most caring person I’ve ever met. Poe, you always always try to help everyone before yourself, you’re willing to take a risk if it meant saving something in the long run. You are such a confident leader, which is admirable in itself. But then you have to go and add on the fact that you know your way around any type of ship, not to mention your the best pilot the resistance has, you can both fly and fix your ship, and you still find time between all of the things you have to do to make time to meet and get to know everyone on this base? That’s insane, and we all care about you so much. I care about you so much. This,” you motioned to his arm. “Is the least I can do to thank you.”

Poe stared at you, wide eyed. “You really believe that?”

You smiled earnestly. “Of course.”

His eyes softened even more and he raised a bandaged hand to caress your cheek. “I love you too.”

You frowned. “You-“

He nodded.

You grinned brighter than he’d ever seen. “I love you three.”

#poe!! flustered! imagine that #hed be so confused #you walking out of the room: finn you owe me ten!#finn: WHATSTEEHDJRJT #anyways #poe dameron #poe dameron x you #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron x reader #star wars #star wars imagine #oscar issac #oscar issac imagine #oscar issac hernandez estrada #oscar issac x reader #oscar issac x you

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always-andromeda · 2 years ago

Note

Hi! I was wondering if you could write some enemies to lovers blurb with Percy Dolarhyde?? Like they hated each others guts but after Percy gets abducted and comes back to town the reader hugs him?

Sweet Pea | Percy Dolarhyde x fem!Reader

Percy Dolarhyde x fem!Reader

Word Count | 1,490

Author’s Note | hee hee, you guys are getting FED this week!! I was gonna keep this as a sweet little blurb but then I felt too many things! Oopsie!

Warnings | Percy and reader bully each other lol, just a smidge of angst and fluff, nothing I can think of!

For almost twenty long years you’d dealt with Percival Dolarhyde’s bullshit. From the second his daddy started spurting gold out of every orifice of his body, the universe decided that Percy would never grow up knowing poverty. On his own, however, he decided he’d never know a moment of good, pure silence either.

You and him developed a routine. By the time you were both twelve, Percy came to the conclusion that you gave the best reaction when he pulled on your hair. And kicked dust in your face. And threw rocks at you. And called you ugly, smelly, gross, stupid, silly, and any other easy word that could pop into his head. He tended to use a lot of the same ones since no matter how many tutors his father brought in to raise him up right, he still couldn’t read very well.

That was the first thing you’d ever teased him about.

All the money in the world and still you can’t read for nothing, Percival Dolarhyde.

That was another thing he hated. You called him Percival. Sure, it’s his full name. But you say it like he’s a toddler, running around and making a mess of everything. And on the day he gets abducted, he acts exactly like he is one. Throwing his tantrum in front of the saloon and shooting his gun off. You’re almost glad to see the new stranger in town give him a fraction of the wallop he deserves.

“Heard they’re cartin’ your sorry ass all the way out the Santa Fe tonight.” You chuckle, approaching his jail cell. “Terribly wasteful trip for those horses. They should make you walk instead.”

Percy lies on the cot in the corner, hat tipped over his head as if he was actually intending to sleep in the musty old cell. He looks up at you from underneath the brim and grimaces before rising to his feet.

“Not if my daddy has anything to say about it.” He steps the short distance between the bed and the bars, almost pressing his face against them.

You inch closer, “Your daddy doesn’t care whether you rot in here or in Santa Fe, I can assure you that. Just as long as you don’t come home, everyone will move along with their lives just fine.”

“You don’t mean that, do ya’, sweet pea?” He argues back in that deliciously low twang of his, tongue between his teeth in a teasing manner that drives you positively insane.

The stranger snaps from his own cell, obviously not humored by the back and forth, “Are you two done with your lover’s quarrel over there?”

You’re the first to glare at him and say, “Lover’s quarrel? You must really be new around here, mister.”

“Yeah, if my sweet pea had a lover, that poor sap would be getting it twice as hard as I do.”

“You shut your mouth, Dolarhyde, or I swear I’ll—”

“You’ll what? Smack me? C’mon now, I thought I wasn’t your lover?”

Percy smirks slyly and you sigh. No matter how many times he sneered at you...he never failed to infuriate you. If only you could grab him by the collar and smack him. And maybe give him a little kiss.

No. Absolutely not. Don't fill your head with that load of bull.

“Enjoy your stay in Santa Fe, Percival.” You give him one last smile with pursed lips, entirely sure that this is the last time you’ll get to see his sniveling, beautiful face.

Then he got himself abducted. Those horrifying creatures descended from the sky and snatched him away. It's a fate that you’d been praying upon him for practically your whole life. And instead of being grateful for this blessing, you’d kill to have the Percy from your childhood throwing pebbles and kicking up dust and doing his best to irritate you. Because at least he would still be there, vying for your attention.

Against your better judgment, you worried about him. You never wanted the last time you saw him to be him screaming.

If anyone was going to drag his sorry ass out of the mess he was in, it would be you. You kicked up a fuss, demanding that Woodrow Dolarhyde let you join the ragtag posse who would attempt to save those who'd been abducted. Though he'd been confused at how committed you were to finding his drunkard of a son, he let it be. They needed as much help as they could get. And, frankly, he didn't care what guilty conscience was fueling your ferocity. As long as you wanted Percy to be safe and sound, that was enough of a common goal to consider you an ally.

Once it's all said and done and the adrenaline fades, one person is on your mind.

"Percy?" You search the crowd desperately for his stupid face, convincing yourself that it's because you'll give him that smack across the cheek that he's always deserved. You'd helped kill a handful of aliens now. Giving Percy a taste of his own medicine was nothing compared to the hell that you'd been through almost losing your life for him.

But that idea is gone with the wind as soon as you spot him, eyes wide and darting from person to person. For a second, you smile, thinking he must be looking for you.

"Percival!" you run to him like you never have before and throw yourself into his arms. You smile when you feel him wrap around you. His hand his hesitant, but ultimately rests on your head and holds you to him. The affection is unnatural, you’re well aware. But it's there. And since Percy has always hated you, it's more than enough.

“You really have a habit of getting yourself into trouble, huh?” You ask him, trying not to get too misty eyed as you pull away, “Just let me get a good look at you.”

Woodrow Dolarhyde appears beside you and rests a solemn palm on your upper arm. Percy got all of his cockiness from his father, but in that moment, Woodrow shows none of the loathed trait.

He simply clears his throat and says carefully, “He’s still a bit…shaken up.”

“Shaken up?” You glance back and forth between the men, waiting for their awkward silence to manifest into a satisfactory answer until Percy finally pipes in.

“Who are you?”

You tense up more than you want to. “That’s not funny. Don’t you dare start with me.”

“Kid. He doesn’t remember…anything.”

"No, no, no. You can't forget," with your hands on his shoulders, you stare into his eyes, searching for some reluctant recognition of your existence. "You despise me. I'm the only one who calls you Percival because I know how much it upsets you. And I'm terrible because I love upsetting you. But you love making my life hell too so it all evens out."

"It sounds like..." Percy trails off, gazing off someplace in the middle distance before refocusing his attention to you, "Why would you want to remember me?"

The question takes you off guard. At every twist and turn, Percy was there to make sure that you were miserable. Teasing you with that silly little name because it made you blush every time. He probably had no clue why it got you so. Was probably painfully unaware of how badly you wanted to hear him say it with just a hint of care in his tone. Sweet pea. He taunted you with the name; held it above your head like a child with a toy you so desperately wanted. Why would you want to remember how he was?

"Because— because I don't know who I'd be without you." The choked sob you let out makes you suddenly self conscious. Woodrow already looks uncomfortable watching the scene play out. So you turn, wiping the stray tear off of your cheek with a knuckle. As soon as you step away, Percy's hesitant voice utters something that makes you freeze.

"Sweet pea?"

You wonder if you'd just hallucinated it. Your lovesick mind was playing a trick on you just to cope with the obliterating reality that you'd done all you had for nothing. Then he repeats it. Like he's finally sure of the sound. Like he knows that name belongs to you.

Within seconds, you're back in his arms. But this time, it's Percival Dolarhyde holding you like he's afraid to let go. You seem to anchor him to the ground. Arms tightening around his nervous frame, you return the warm embrace. No alien is ever gonna snatch your Percival away ever again.

"I don't remember you. Not exactly. But I remember that." His voice shakes with a vulnerability you're not used to from him, "You're my sweet pea."

With your thumb caressing over his dirty cheek, you look into his muddled green eyes and smile wistfully, "That's good enough for now."

#paul dano #danonation #danocel #cowboys and aliens #percy dolarhyde #percy dolarhyde x reader #percy dolarhyde x y/n #percy dolarhyde x you #˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚

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just-dreaming-marvel · 2 years ago

Text

The Truth About Love ~ 3

THE TRUTH ABOUT LOVE MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 1,500ish

Summary: You continue your job at the coffee shop. Steve continues to visit the coffee shops.

Notes: basically just pure fluff. Like, tooth-rotting fluff. I’m just trying to fill you up so that you’ll last through the angst. Also, I’m making playlists for a lot of my series. Check out this post to access the playlist and find out how to suggest songs.

You came home with a loopy grin on your face. You hummed around the apartment as you prepared for bed. Your thoughts were on Steve. His face, his kindness, his eyes, his talent. Just the sliver you got to see of him made you yearn for more. Natasha had been in her room reading when she heard you humming around. Curiosity pulled her from her book and caused her to find you almost in a love-induced daze as you brushed your teeth. Natasha leaned against the doorway behind you, arms crossed over her chest with a playful smirk on her lips.

“Well this is definitely new,” she commented.

You yelped as you jumped slightly, Natasha having scared you. The red-headed roommate laughed at your reaction.

“Sorry,” she apologized with a smile. “It’s just, I’m not used to you so dazed like that.”

“Me either,” you giggled slightly.

“I’m guessing your second day of work was a success?”

You nodded. “Very much so.”

“Yeah….? You want to elaborate?”

“Not really.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yep.” You popped the ‘p’ teasingly.

“Come on, Y/N. What happened? Did you get a raise already? Did your coworkers do something nice? Did you meet a guy?” You bit down on your bottom lip. “No… you met a guy?”

You shook your head, turning to push past Natasha to head to your own room. “I’m not talking about this right now.”

“Oh, come on!” Natasha followed. “What was his name? Did he give you his number? What did he look like? Have you already memorized his order?”

“Night, Tasha,” you shut your bedroom door and locked it.

“I’m not dropping this!”

“Goodnight Natasha!”

~~~

“How was the bar with Tony?” Bucky asked as Steve walked through their apartment door.

“Oh, I actually didn’t make it to the bar,” Steve answered. “I was on my way when Tony texted and said that he needed to head home since I was already late and he has some big meeting in the morning.”

Bucky turned from where he sat on the couch to see Steve better. “You were late, why?”

“I, uh, got caught up in my sketchbook.”

Brows pinching together, Bucky didn’t believe his friend. There was something else to that. He smirked. “Sure you did, punk. You wanna tell me about her?”

Steve’s head snapped in Bucky’s direction, eyes wide like he had been caught. “I—I don’t—I didn’t— there wasn’t—”

Bucky cackled. “I’m just messing with you, but now I know there was a girl.”

Steve sighed as he came and plopped down in the chair next to the couch. “She was so… bright. Like, she was beautiful but also much more than that.”

“Did you actually talk to her or stare creepily at her?”

“We talked. I actually lost track of time and was there past close so I helped her clean up.”

“Did you get her number?”

“No.”

“Did you get her name?”

“Yes.”

Bucky waited for a beat. “Are you going to tell me it?”

“I don’t think I will.”

“Are you serious?”

“Very.” Steve slapped the tops of his knees as he stood up. “Night, Buck.”

“I will get to the bottom of this!”

~~~

You were grateful that Natasha was already at work when you woke up. And by the note she left for you on the fridge, you’d be at work when she gets home. You spent the day getting the needed supplies and textbooks for your classes, that would start next Monday. After you finished your errands, you dropped off your things and headed to work. You couldn’t help but hope that Steve would be there.

As you walked into the coffee shop, your eyes flitted toward the corner where Steve had sat yesterday. You watched as his head snapped in the direction of the door, catching your eye. Both of you grew goofy grins on your faces.

“Hey Y/N!” Wanda greeted from behind the counter.

This pulled you from focusing on Steve. “Hi,” you responded, coming around to put away your personal items and pull on an apron. “How’s it been today?”

“Fairly steady. Nothing you shouldn’t be able to handle.” Wanda pulled off her own apron. “Our local artist might need a refill.”

You glanced over to see that Steve had changed his position so that his back was to the window and he was facing you. His head was down slightly as he worked in his sketchbook, sneaking peeks up at you.

“Right,” you said. Wanda had grabbed her things and was now heading out. “See you!”

“Good luck!” Wanda said, the bell ringing as she left.

You turned to the back counter to prep coffee to refill Steve’s. You turned around to grab something and you jumped back. Steve was sheepishly standing on the other side of the counter.

“Sorry,” he muttered. His face was red as one of his hands came back to rub his neck. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You’re fine, Steve,” you smiled. “How may I help you?”

“I, uh, I guess a refill.” He pushed his cup that was on the counter closer to you.

“I was just about to come and refill yours, actually.” You took his cup and turned to refill it.

“Oh, sorry.”

“It’s fine, Steve.” You turned back and handed him his cup back, your fingers brushing against each others. “Made my job easier.”

“Then good.” He smiled.

“How was the bar with your brother, right?”

“Yeah, I actually didn’t make it in time.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. I lost track of time.” As you nodded, the door rang, signaling a customer coming in. “I should let you get back to work.”

“Yeah. Just let me know when you need another refill.”

Steve held up his cup as he backed away. “Will do.”

You tried not to stare too much as he walked back to this seat and the new customer came up to the counter. You helped them quickly, just in time for another customer to walk in. You pressed out a smile, hoping to finish with this customer so you could final a way to talk to Steve again.

~~~

Unfortunately for you, Wanda had been right. It was steady for the remainder of the day. It was nothing you couldn’t handle but in the few seconds you had to spare you needed to restock the coffee and clean up. You would often find Steve looking at you throughout your shift. Both of you would snap your heads away once your eyes met. You sighed as soon as the last customer left and you turned off the open sign. You turned to see Steve packing up his things.

“Done with your art for the day?” You questioned.

“Yeah,” he responded. “I didn’t actually get much done today… I, uh, had trouble focusing.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“I’m not.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You two stared at each other for a moment. “I should get cleaning.”

“Need any help?”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering.”

“Only if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

~~~

After the two of you cleaned and had closed up the store, the two of you stood outside of it.

“Thank you for helping,” you said.

“Of course,” he responded. “Uh, do you work tomorrow?”

“Yeah. It’s my last ‘easier’ shift.”

“Easier shift?”

“These three shifts were to get me back into the swing of things. I definitely need more hours if I’m going to pay rent and tuition.”

“You’re going to school?”

“Yeah, start on Monday.”

“Same. Maybe we’ll see each other around campus.”

“I’d like that.”

“Can I—oh, I really struggle with this, sorry. Uh, can I—“

“My number’s on the napkin I slipped into your sketchbook while we were cleaning.” Steve stared at you in awe. “Can I expect to see you tomorrow?”

“Uh-huh,” he nodded, speechless.

“Good. I’ll see you then. Goodnight, Steve.” You headed toward your apartment.

“Yeah… goodnight, Y/N.”

Steve stood in his spot as he watched you walk away. Eventually, he shook himself out of his daze and went over to his motorcycle. He straddled it before flipping through his sketchbook. Between two empty pages, he found the napkin with just your number on it. He quickly entered your contact information and shot you a text.

~~~

You were climbing up the stairs to your apartment when your phone buzzed.

Unknown: Hey, it’s Steve. Let me know when you get home.

You smiled as you walked into the apartment. Natasha was sitting on the couch. She turned to watch you walk in, smiling at your phone.

“So I’m guessing the mystery man showed up again today?” She questioned.

You ignored the question and headed straight for your bedroom. “Goodnight, Nat,” you told her as you shut the door and locked it.

Me: I’m home safely.

My Artist Guy: Glad to hear that.

My Artist Guy: I’ll see you tomorrow, doll. Sweet dreams.

next chapter >

TAGLIST IS CLOSED - Taglist Information

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inevitably-johnlocked · 3 years ago

Note

Do you have any fic recs of Sherlock being soft for John and John only.

Hey Nonny!

Ahhhhhhhh your request had me thinking that yes I do, and I did tag a few fics with “soft Sherlock”, but I’ve never started a list, so here ya go!

SOFT SHERLOCK

See also: Sherlock Soft With Children

Soft. Happy. Content. by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 223 w., 1 Ch. || Sleepy Cuddles, Bed Sharing, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Spooning, Morning After, Sherlock POV) – Sherlock reflects on his state of mind. Part 6 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

A Perfect Figure by ecb327 (K, 622 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, First Person POV Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Introspection, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Light Angst) – Sherlock build a spot in his mind palace for John.

I Knew You Loved Me by inevitably_johnlocked (T, 743 w., 1 Ch. || Morning Cuddles, Fluff, Clingy Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Slice of Life, Morning After, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Declarations of Love, Pet Name, Bed Sharing, Snuggles) – John and Sherlock share a lie-in the morning after their first time. So fluffy and gross your teeth will fall out. Part 4 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

Peacock by ClassyGirlsWearPearls (T, 1,189 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Cranky Sherlock, Soft John, Hand Holding, Soft Sherlock) – A study in Sherlock and John.

Mizzle by MrsNoggin (K, 1,233 w., 1 Ch || Friendship, Fluff, Platonic Johnlock, Humour, Slice of Life) – John can't decide if it's raining or not. Sherlock doesn't understand.

And, Usually, He's the One Who GIVES Me a Headache by Cumberbatch Critter (T, 1,315 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, POV John, Cranky John, Headaches, Head Massage) – A migraine is never fun.

Together is What we Have, Together Protects Us by Phantom of the Black Pearl (K+, 1,566 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF, Friendship / Platonic or Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Sherlock, Worried Sherlock, Slice of Life) – After a case one evening in the flat Sherlock voices a concern that causes the pair to consider why they've chosen to stick together after all that's happened

Here to Stay by MockJayPhoenix12 (K, 1,574 w., 1 Ch. || Post Reunion, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Headache, Bed Sharing, Care Taker Sherlock, Hand Holding, Fluff) – On Sherlock's first day home, John wakes with a migraine.

Evermore by SosoHolmesWatson (G, 2,068 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4, 5-Year-Old Rosie, Love Confessions, Song Fic, Parentlock, Oblivious John, Pining Sherlock, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Disney Songs, Beauty and the Beast) – For the past years, John and Sherlock have lived at Baker Street again, raising Rosie together--as friends and nothing more. Ever since the little girl has watched her first Disney movie, she is obsessed with princesses. When John comes home one day, he finds his friend and his daughter in the middle of a reenactment of her current favourite. Part 1 of Made of Music

Let the Sun Fade Out by nothingislittle (E, 2,711 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff & Smut, Praise Kink, PWP, Obsessed Sherlock, Bottomlock, Heart-Tearing Love) – "He could warm the sun itself, Sherlock thinks, could heat their flat with just his presence, could brighten the room with one dazzling smile or just the sparkling in his eyes. John is everything, he’s beautiful and he shines, he’s everything."

Unquantifiable by 221b_hound (M, 2,799 w. 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Sherlock/Sally Friendship, Grumpy John, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Pet Names, Texting, Sweet Sherlock, Princess Bride References) – John remains a terrible and foul-tempered patient, but he does try to make up for it with pet names and text message silliness. In the meantime, Sally Donovan visits Baker Street for a hint about the Milverton case, and has to deal with a Sherlock Holmes who can't find words big enough to thank her for saving John's life at the warehouse. For afters, there's a viewing of The Princess Bride. Part 33 of the Unkissed series

Pillow Talk by 221b_hound (E, 2,925 w., 1 Ch. || Post-HLV, Est. Rel., Preening Sherlock, Limpet Sherlock, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Sex on Furniture, Scent Kink, Masturbation, Fluff, Soft Sherlock, Sherlock’s Bum) – John gets home late from work and Sherlock is nowhere to be seen. John walks through the flat, distracted by memories of all the excellent sex they've been having, and finally finds Sherlock asleep in the upstairs room - apparently having fallen asleep mid-wank while inhaling the scent of John's pillow. Well, you should always finish what you start, John thinks... Part 3 of Lock and Key

The General Idea by agirlsname (T, 3,022 w., 1 Ch. || Retirement, Promise of Forever / Proposal, POV John, First Kiss, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Soft Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Crying / Emotional Sherlock, Love Confessions) – After twenty years of friendship, John is used to Sherlock acting weirdly. But the news Sherlock finally brings himself to deliver change the carefully built dynamics between them, and John realises it's time to act.

Affirmation by jamlockk (E, 3,096 w., 1 Ch. || First Time, Dev. Rel., PWP, Love Declarations, Emotional/Overwhelmed Sherlock, Comforting/Caring John, Gross Fluff) – "Sunlight dappled John's skin, casting a glow across his spreadeagled form as he dozed among the rumpled sheets. Sherlock knew the expression on his face was hopelessly soft but for once did not care about showing his true feelings so openly. He simply stood there, in the doorway, gazing at the impossibly beautiful man currently snuffling softly in his slumber." Part 8 of All the ways we love

Untouched by KittieHill (E, 3,239 w., 1 Ch. || Kissing, Frottage, Virgin Sherlock, Body Worship, Sherlock’s Scars Mentioned, Masturbation, PWP, Rimming, Multiple Orgasms) – Sherlock leaked a lot. John had never needed lubricant. John loved watching it, had once spent an entire afternoon edging Sherlock so he could watch as the thick precome drip, drip, dripped onto Sherlock's belly.

Morning Sunlight by slashscribe (E, 3,565 w., 1 Ch. || PWP, Morning Sex, Fluff, PWP, Established Rel., Soft Idiots) – A thin band of soft morning light peeks between the curtains and stretches across John’s torso, laying dormant across his forearm, dipping into the space between his arm and his chest, illuminating his right nipple but just brushing the edge of his left, disappearing into his armpit, and reappearing again right over Sherlock’s eyes where his head rests, nestled against John’s shoulder. Sherlock is not annoyed by the light’s intrusion on his sleep, not when it rests so soft and tantalizing on John’s skin, a work of unintentionally erotic art. A PWP with so much emotion.

Living Musical by VeeTheRee (G, 4,149 w. 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Hobbies, Summer, Song Fic, POV Sherlock, Painting, Play Fighting, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Love Declarations, Hair Petting, Promise of Forever) – A one-shot of John and Sherlock being domestic during summer. There is paint, fluff, and music from Imagine Dragons, namely from the album 'Speak To Me', specific song in this one-shot is 'Living Musical'. Part 1 of the Happy Fluffy Johnlock Time series

Date Night by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 4,451 w., 1 Ch. || Anxious / Worried Sherlock, Caring John, Schmoopy Fluff, Fidget Cube, Baking / Cooking, Date Night, Established Relationship, POV Sherlock Holmes, Understanding John, Grumpy Sherlock, John’s Bum, Kisses, Hugs, Domestic Fluff, Touching, Hair Petting, Light Humour) – It's John and Sherlock's first Date Night as an official couple and Sherlock needs it to be PERFECT. Mrs Hudson helps. Part 7 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

If He Knows by shamelessmash (M, 4,513 w., 1 Ch. || TSo3 Fic, Pining Sherlock, Bed Sharing, Angst, First Person Sherlock POV, Texting, Internal Monologue, Blanket Forts) – I imagine mornings: John handing me a cup of tea, hair sticking out at odd angles. How he would bend down to kiss me, smiling fondly as he pulls away. The way his skin crinkles at the corner of his eyes, the way his skin looks in the morning light. The soft sigh as he sits in his chair with the morning paper, the way his toes curl in the carpet, the way he rolls his shoulders before sinking deeper into his seat. I watch him, how he is when he is content, as it should be. As he deserves. Happy. With me.

all things warm and tender by darcylindbergh (E, 5,177 w., 1 Ch. || PWP, Romantic Fluff, Rimming/Anal/BJ’s, Body Worship) – Grinning and giggling, John slides back down under the sheet and pulls it over his head. He finds Sherlock waiting for him, eyes bright and hair wild, the firelight bleeding through the thin fabric, colouring everything in soft peach and topaz, and in that moment he is so suddenly, unexpectedly, ethereally beautiful that John forgets how to breathe.

Pillow Talk by scullyseviltwin (M, 5,183 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S3, Angsty Fluff, Pillow Talk, Bed Sharing, Worried John, First Time Morning After, Soft Sherlock, Sexuality Discussion, Love Confessions, Kisses and Cuddles) – John has been looking at Sherlock for ages, it feels like.

a very soft epilogue (my love) by darcylindbergh (E, 5,395 w., 3 Ch. || Retirement, Domestic Fluff, Dancing, Dogs, Grumpy Old Men) – Across the pillows, Sherlock shifts and hums, the creases of his face deepening and then smoothing before settling. John watches him wake up, his chest swelling with affection and fondness, and thinks he’ll never get tired of Sherlock in the mornings, sleepy and soft. It’s been some forty-odd years, and John hasn’t gotten tired of it yet. Part 5 of things fairy tales are made of

Naked by sussexbound (E, 6,166 w., 1 Ch. || Frottage, Fluff, Intimacy, First Time, Love Declarations, Trust) – John takes a deep breath, and then lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Sherlock, how would you feel if you were sitting out here doing one of your bloody experiments, and I just waltzed out of the loo and started fixing myself breakfast completely starkers? Hmm…? ”Sherlock’s lips inch up at the corners into a pleased hint of a smile he can’t seem to suppress. Part 2 of Intimacy

Christmas by WhimsicalEthnographies (E, 7,673 w., 1 Ch. || Worried Sherlock, PWP, Drunkeness, Christmas, Est. Relationship, Idiots So In Love) – John feels a lump rise in his throat, and it hits him, again, that this beautiful, infuriating creature is his. Completely, one-hundred percent his.

How To Give Your Boyfriend Who Doesn't Know He's Your Boyfriend the Best Valentine's Day Ever by unicornpoe (T, 9,832 w., 1 Ch. || Valentine’s Day, Fluff and Crack, Soft Sherlock, POV Sherlock) – Sherlock is pretty sure that John Watson is his boyfriend. He's also pretty sure that John doesn't know it. But with a little help from a magazine, some friends, three crepes, five dates, one awesome CD, and a stalker van, John is bound to realize just in time for Valentine's Day.

Someone I Love by hudders-and-hiddles (M, 10,002 w., 2 Ch. || Canon Compliant, HLV-Filler Fic, Pre-Slash, Jealous John, PIning Sherlock, Angst & Fluff, UST/URT, Dog Tags) – John gets married and Sherlock finds comfort in wearing John's identity tags around his wrist.

To be loved by Strange_johnlock (E, 12,436 w., 8 Ch. || Post S3, Established Relationship, First Person POV Sherlock, Pet Names, Soft Sherlock, Mild ADHD, Protective John, Captain Watson, Body Appreciation, Bottomlock, Rough Sex, Travelling for Holidays, Introspection, Sherlock Loves John So Much It Hurts) – John is so deeply integrated into the work, both as my conductor of light, and as a great shot with a vicious right hook who tackles men -and women- no matter their size all in my defense. He protects me with all he can without question, and this loyalty is surely more than I deserve. Or: Sherlock is counting his blessings.

holding steady by darcylindbergh (E, 12,724 w., 4 Ch. || Post S4, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Growing Old, Gone Fishing, Mood without Plot, Soft Sherlock, Caring Sherlock, POV John Third Person, Anxious Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Touching, Feeling Old, Sherlock Worship, Crying Sherlock, Cuddles, Comforting, Introspection, Retirement, Hand Holding, Forehead Kisses, Caring John, Bed Sharing, Emotional Love Making) – Sitting on a thick wool blanket at the end of a rickety dock side-by-side, legs dangling over the edge, a styrofoam container of wet, dark dirt between them, they’re fishing. John knows what this is about. This is about finally figuring it out.

On The Fence by BeautifulFiction (T, 13,770 w., 1 Ch. || Fencing, Case Fic, First Kiss, Insecure John, Pining John, Hug, Greg Finds Out) – The murder of the King's College fencing champion leads to revelations about Sherlock's past. Will it be the point that tips them from friends to lovers, or will they remain on the fence?

The Invocation of Saint Margaret by Ewebie (E, 15,831 w., 1 Ch. || POV John, Crossing Timelines, Light Angst, Fluff, Series 3 John / Series 1 Sherlock, The Matchbox, Mushy Romance, First Time, Bisexual John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Sensuality, Emotional Love Making, Snippets of Time) – When Sherlock Holmes opens the matchbox from The Sign of Three and John finds himself years in the past, back to that first dinner at Angelo's with a much younger Sherlock Holmes. Is he dreaming?

Division by MrsNoggin (E, 19,542 w., 11 Ch. || Coffee Shop AU || First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Barista Sherlock, Clingy Sherlock, POV John, John’s Limp, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Sensuality, Touching, Virgin Sherlock, Insecure John) – John likes mysteries. And every morning he dips into the local independent coffee bar with his newspaper and ponders another... one Sherlock Holmes.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

How To Unfold a Heart by elwinglyre (E, 25,477 w., 7 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It, BAMF John, Mentioned Eurus, POV First Person Sherlock, Case Fic, Fluff, Slow Burn, Topping from the Bottom, 3 Yr Old Rosie, Introspection, Sexual Fantasies, John Worship, Ogling, Hand Holding, Kidnapping, Domesticity, Sherlock Whump, First Kiss/Time, Doctor John, Caring John, Soft Sherlock, Sensuality, Touching, Crying, Love Confessions, Anxious Sherlock, Rimming, Toplock, Fingering, Bossy Bottom John) – To Sherlock’s dismay, John’s return to Baker Street with Rosie is only temporary. Sherlock’s daily visits to Regent Park with John and Rosie illuminate his lost childhood memories and missed opportunities. But with each trip to the park, Sherlock also feels a growing sense of hope. That is until the past horrors return unexpectedly in a cryptic note folded in the shape of a heart. To decipher the message, Sherlock must uncover the nature of the hearts around him, including his own.

A Quiet Life by DiscordantWords (M, 25,176 w., 6 Ch. || Post S4, Retirement, POV Sherlock, Awkwardness, Established Relationship, Family Dynamics, Minor Character Death, Questionable Parenting Choices, Non-Linear Narrative, 20 Year Old Rosie, Meddling Mycroft, Pining Sherlock, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Angst, Sherlock Whump) – There had been three days of silence and a funeral. Sherlock had the terrible feeling that whatever happened next would depend, entirely, on him.

Deck the Halls by itsalwaysyou_jw (T, 31,018 w., 24 Ch. || Advent Fic / Multiple One-Shots, Assorted Tags) – One Johnlock ficlet for every day leading up to Christmas. Who is ready for pining, first kisses, established Johnlock, and everything in between? This collection of stand-alone ficlets will have it all.

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction, Anxious/Insecure Sherlock, Miscommunication, Emotional Lovemaking) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Definitions by siennna (T, 101,528 w., 12 of ? Ch. || Dev. Rel., Pining, Fluff and Romance, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Fluff, Cuddles, Girl’s Night, Texting, Virgin Sherlock, Drunk Sherlock, Background Mollstrade, Hair Petting, Laying on Lap) – Sherlock’s journey in defining his flat mate and stumbling through the muddled world of emotion. {{This feels complete; the chapter count is listed as ? but I feel like it is done}}

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #soft sherlock #Anonymous #long post

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silversatoru · 4 years ago

Note

Hi, I just finished burdens and OML 🥺🥺🥺

May I request some sort of megumi x reader continuous where the reader ends up becoming a powerful sorcerer (or a cursed spirit👀 whichever you’d like tbh) megumi and the reader somehow cross paths again a little while after the break up and he witnesses her fighting for the first time? I just know that boy would fall in love all over again but she’s moved on and he feels guilty and just angst? And maybe fluff idk. I’m new to requests so I hope I did this right, thank you so much❤️❤️

burdens pt. 2

a/n: hello, part two of this not-so-lovely story is finally here. every single one of you is allowed one free punch to my face for taking so long to write it,,, i’m so sorry. this is its fourth rewrite and it got a little darker than expected but it’s finally done,, i hope you enjoy <3

fushiguro megumi x f!reader

synopsis: you finally see megumi again at the kyoto sister school goodwill event

tags/warnings: angst, some graphic depictions of violence, character death

word count: 3k

“Do you know how tired I am of watching the people I love die? Things would be so much easier for me if you just stayed the fuck away”.

Megumi’s bitter words were on repeat in your head — the harshness of his voice leaving a hollow feeling carved into your chest. Tear-stained cheeks and shaky breathes had become your new normal these past few days. Tight, sharp pains filled your empty stomach, waves of nausea coursing through your body.

You’ve had no motivation to get out of bed lately, nevermind to shower or cook yourself a proper meal — honestly, for all you cared you could rot away in your blanket filled bed. You checked your phone like a fiend too, thinking that eventually, a miraculous text from Megumi would appear and make everything better. It never did.

He’d completely ghosted you since that dreadful day, and that hurt more than anything. You’d held onto a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, he hadn't meant what he said. But as the days continued to pass, your hope quickly dwindled.

To say your current state was shameful was putting it lightly, and you were embarrassed at how poorly this was effecting you. You liked to think that you were strong, motivated, independent — that you didn't need some douchebag just to feel happy. But truth be told, breakups are fucking hard, and it's okay to not be okay for a while — or at least that's what you kept telling yourself.

So when you were trudging miserably down the street to your local convenience store and you saw a familiar pair of jujutsu sorcerers, you wanted desperately to sink into the ground. You made a quick turn to head to a different shop, but it was too late, you were spotted.

“y/n! hey!” Two lighthearted voices sang through the air, filling your ears and making your heart clench in your chest.

You turned around and anxiously approached them, your unkempt hair and baggy eyes sending looks of concern across their faces.

“Hey girl, you good?” Nobara shot you a sideways glance, Maki raising a suspicious eyebrow.

“Yeah, uh, ice cream,” You croaked, speaking for the first time in a couple days, “I’m here for ice cream, that’s all”.

“Yeah, but why do you look like a fucking zombie?” Maki pushed her eyeglasses further up her nose, her sharp eyes looking you up and down.

“Ah, he didn’t say anything to you guys, did he?” You shook your head, heavy eyes falling to ground as you refused to meet theirs.

“Don’t tell me…” Nobara’s face contorted, “Did he break up with you?”

You nodded, a pitiful chuckle falling from your lips, because if you didn’t laugh, you’d start sobbing right now.

Maki threw her arm around your shoulder, pulling you to her side and ushering you into the store, “It’s okay, men suck. Hang out with us today”.

Meanwhile, Nobara trailed quickly behind the two of you, anger seething from her teeth and steam practically billowing out of her ears.

“That fuckhead! I swear I’ll fuck his shit up big time, he won’t even know what fucking hit him. I knew that boy was stupid but shit, this is a whole new low for him! I-,” She continued to ramble and rant as Maki led you through the store, picking out drinks and snacks to help ease your pain.

The three of you ended up in a nearby park, sitting around a small picnic table and gorging on the massive array of snacks. Lighthearted conversation and lots of food make your chest ache a little less, and you even found yourself laughing and chatting as if things were normal. You’d told the two of them all about that day, about Megumi’s irrational words and his tragic breakdown that led to some kind of fucked-up break up sex.

“So, how are we gonna get back at him? Egg his car? Put bleach in his shampoo? Bugs in his food? God - it’s a shame his dad is dead because from the pictures I’ve seen that man was FINE and revenge sex—,”

“Nobara,” Maki shot her idiot girlfriend a dirty look, and the orange-haired girl quickly shut her mouth, “As much as I support any idea that revolves around ruining a man’s day, I don’t think revenge is the healthiest coping strategy here”.

You were tracing your eyes around Maki’s face as she spoke, and you found yourself carefully inspecting her purple glasses that rested softly on the bridge of her nose. And that’s when it clicked, the light bulb ignited in your head and you knew exactly what you wanted to do.

“Maki,” your voice was urgent, “You don’t have cursed energy, you can’t even see them without your glasses!”

Her face twisted and her nose scrunched, a look of distaste in her eyes, “I know?”

“So, you could teach me, right? You could help me learn how to use some cursed weapons?”

“Yeah! You have to Maki, then she can beat his ass with me,” Nobara chimed in.

“That’s not a bad idea actually,” Maki’s mouth formed an evil grin, “Could you imagine his face after watching you exorcise a curse?”

The three of your conversed for a bit longer, speculating and potting about training, weapons, and your very own pair of curse-seeing glasses. By the end of the night you had a plan, and a pretty good one if you say so yourself.

From that day on, teary eyes and achy hearts were a thing of the past, not because it was that easy to get over Megumi, but because Maki didn’t even allow you the time to feel dismal anymore. You met her everyday after classes without fail, and everyday she would train you until you thought your arms would fall off. After months and months of sore muscles, sweat, and the occasional injury, you were convinced that Maki was incapable of feeling pity or remorse for other living things. Every time you speculated about quitting, she’d set a fire under you, unafraid to remind you how weak you still were.

The green-haired sorcerer had ultimately decided that you worked best dual-armed -- a long, lightweight blade in each hand. On your final day of training, she officially gifted the two swords to you, as a “graduation” gift.

Skill-wise, you were by no means as incredible Maki, but you definitely held your own, and the progress you’d made in a mere 8 months was astronomical. They’d introduced you to a strange silver-haired man at some point, Gojo, who had taken not only an interest in you but also your plot against your ex-boyfriend. He cackled to himself when you told him why you were here, going on and on about how priceless Megumi’s face would be when he saw you.

Your appearance was highly anticipated, so why not debut at one of the biggest jujutsu events all year? The Kyoto Sister School Goodwill Event — Gojo thought it was the most perfect idea.

You tried hard to exude confidence as you walked at Nobara and Maki’s sides, but behind your arrogant facade your stomach was twisting itself into knots. Truthfully, you were scared to see Megumi again after so long.

And when your eyes met with his as you walked into the meeting room, you thought you just might pass out. You thought you were ready for this — but the look of complete shock, fear, and anger on his face as he looked you up and down almost made you regret all of it.

“What’s going on?” Megumi’s words were incredibly calculated, an edge on his voice.

His question was pointless, however, because judging by the fact that you were wearing a jujutsu tech uniform and had two swords sheathed at your sides could only mean one thing. Your hair was longer now too, and your frame was wider with an extra layer of muscle from all the training — you almost looked like a different person.

“I’ve been training with Maki, I-,” You spoke up to explain yourself, but you weren’t even granted the opportunity.

“No, no, Maki, what the hell did you do?” His eyes were shaky and laced with concern.

“I only did what she asked me to. I’m not the one who gave her a complex about being weak, you did that,” Maki shrugged, “and she’s not your girlfriend anymore dude, what do you care?”

Absolute confliction flashed through his eyes, uncertainty and madness swirling in his irises, “You’re right, I don’t care. Let me know when the event is starting”.

He took a sharp turn out of the room and let the door slam a little too hard behind him. The sound of his icey voice and the door shutting with unkind force was all too reminiscent of the night you broke up. Burying every emotion you had deep into your stomach you gave Maki a small, reassuring smile and plopped down on one of the couches.

“Alright, so when does this thing start?”

after the start of the event

Fighting the Kyoto students was proving to be much harder than you initially expected, but you were holding your own at Maki’s side. The two of you had easily taken down a small, kind, blue haired girl named Miwa, and now you were watching an emotional battle between Maki and her sister unfold.

Wait here, she’d told you, I want to do this one myself. Take some notes on my form and watch our backs, okay?

Okay, you’d said, a little confused but ultimately finding a nice spot up in a thick tree to carefully observe from. Maki was truly a force of nature, and it seemed like the other girl never actually had a chance of winning. It was honestly only a few minutes before the small black, haired girl was slumped against a tree and Maki was making her way back to you. Things were looking good, two of Kyoto’s student’s were down already and adrenaline was pumping through your veins.

You couldn't quite shake the awful feeling churning in your stomach though, and Megumi’s face was haunting your thoughts. You hadn’t seen him since before the event started, when an odd, pink haired boy jumped out of a box and freaked everyone out. Nobara had later explained who he was and what had happened, and you wondered how many awful surprises Gojo had planned today -- first you, then that.

A small rumble rippled under your feet, and Maki grabbed your arm as you watched a giant brown vine lurch it’s way out of the ground a few hundred yards in the distance.

“That technique doesn’t belong to anyone from Kyoto,” She shot you a look of concern and determination, “let’s go check it out”.

You gave her a firm nod, the two of you making your way towards the horrifying wooden vines. By the time you managed to arrive, Inumaki was already down and so was a dark-haired boy from Kyoto. A muscular, white curse with black markings and wooden branches for eyes was moments away from taking Megumi on all by himself — thank god you got here in time to help.

Megumi, however, was horrified when he saw you jump over the tall roofed building with Maki at your side. He’d just watched two incredible sorcerers get their shit rocked by this curse, there was no way you would stand a chance against this thing. But before he could even try to stop you, you and the green-haired sorcerer were flying through the air and taking shots at the curse. The two of you worked perfectly in sync, the months of daily training finally paying off.

He watched with intent glazed over his eyes, his heart threatening to lurch up his throat. You were a spectacle, and he always thought you were beautiful but seeing you now with dirt and blood stained clothes, cursed weapons gripped firmly in your hands, you truly were ethereal. He hated it though, he hated that he was falling in love with you all over again, especially under these circumstances. Guilt and anxiety was eating away at him — why did you have to get involved? Why couldn’t you have just stayed away like he told you to?

He was quick to join the two of you, sticking close to your side to protect you if need be — but, even with all three of you together the curse still had the upper hand. Maki had been swatted to the side, her back slamming hard against one of the tiled roofs and knocking her unconscious. It was down to just the two of you now, beads of sweat causing your hair to uncomfortably stick to the back of your neck. This was something that Maki’s training could have never prepared you for.

Megumi was getting tired, taking one wrong step and losing his footing momentarily. The curse saw this as a perfect window of opportunity, sending a spiral of vines and branches hurling for Megumi. It was fast, but the adrenaline coursing through you helped you to move faster, launching yourself through the air and intercepting the attack. The barky, wooden vines twisted violently through your stomach, shooting clean through your back and ripping a violent scream from your throat.

It hurt so bad, feeling the plant wriggle through your organs and tear you apart from the inside out. The curse retracted his vine a few moments later, leaving your mangled body to fall helplessly to the roof. Tears rippled from your eyes, your body shaking and seizing as you coughed up a few sprays of blood.

A long, strong pair of arms scooped you up instantaneously, and your head was resting against a firm chest — probably Megumi, but you didn’t quite have the energy to open your eyes to check.

“We’ll take it from here, get her to Ieiri!” You heard a pair of deep voices yelling to Megumi, but it was too foggy and far away for you to understand what they were saying.

Megumi was seething with anger, moving as fast as his feet could carry him and he ran through the school. As you waved in and out of consciousness, you batted open your eyes, stealing quick glances at his twisted features and — were those tears on his face?

“I- I’m sorry Megumi… I think I finally understand what you were so afraid of all this time,” Your voice was barely a croak, “when I saw it coming, I couldn’t stomach the thought of having to watch you die. I suddenly just thought I would do anything to keep you safe”.

Yeah, those were definitely tears, you could see them a little clearer now. His eyes were red and his cheeks were dried with salty streaks.

“You’re so thick-headed,” he mumbled, his grip around you tightening slightly as he picked up his pace, “I wish you would have made that realization before there was a giant hole in your stomach”.

“Me too,” You hummed, but you weren’t really in any pain anymore. The pain had subdued to a sweet warm sensation inside your stomach, and an intoxicating sleepiness was washing over your head, “I was angry for a long time, but I’m not mad at you anymore, Gumi. I hope you can forgive me too”.

You offered him a tiny smile, but the blood leaking from between you keeps made it anything but sweet.

“There’s nothing to forgive you for, you never did anything wrong,” He spoke quickly, his voice quiet and cracking.

“No, but we’re not gonna make it to Ieiri, I know that and so do you,” You fell into a violent fit of coughs again, sputtering red splatters all over the front of his uniform.

“Shut up”.

“It’s not your fault, none of it was ever your fault,” you choked out once the fit of coughs subsided — and you weren’t just talking about yourself, you were talking about all of the unfortunate tragedies he’d witnessed throughout this life.

“And you’re allowed to be selfish sometimes, you know? I hope that when you meet someone, your soulmate even, you can allow yourself to love them with every part of you”.

The words painfully left your lips, but you meant every single one of them. You were starting to realize that you and Megumi were never meant to make it to the end. You weren’t his soulmate, you were here to help him grow, so that when he did finally meet them he’d be ready.

“You deserve to be loved, Megumi,” You looked up at him with big eyes, but his face was starting to get really fuzzy now.

Your fingers were going numb and your mouth felt like it was filled with sand. You were so tired, letting your eyes flutter shut and your head rest softly against Megumi’s chest. You felt him stop running, you could even hear him screaming at you — but it was too far away for you to hear. You drifted closer and closer to eternal sleep, your soul swollen with love for the boy who broke your heart.

Megumi didn’t even feel sad when you stopped breathing in his arms — he just felt hollow. More empty and broken than he’d ever thought possible. You were the most incredible person he’d ever met — someone with extreme motivation, who acted with no fear or hesitation, who always had love to give, even when he didn’t deserve it. He’d never forget you, not for as long as he’d live anyway.

Even when he did meet a new girl a few years later — a compassionate, brave girl, who reminded him a lot of you — he wouldn’t forget. He wouldn’t forget your words and for the first time in his life he’d let his walls down for her. He’d allow himself to truly love, and be loved in return.

And maybe you were right, maybe he did deserve to be loved like this, because god, he finally feels whole again when she’s around. He just wishes you were still here so he could say thank you.

#megumi angst #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi x reader #angst #fushiguro megumi x you #fushiguro x reader #megumi x you #megumi fushiguro angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsukaisen #jjk x y/n #jjk angst #jjk x reader #jjk oneshot #this is sad i’m sorry

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candlewaxandp0lar0ids · 4 years ago

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if I can never give you peace — zero || Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Summary: It starts like quite a few stories do, in your world. Girl meets boy, who happens to be a hybrid, girl buys him at an auction where hybrids are sold, boy falls in love with her, girl gets bored of him. Then it’s not so typical anymore, when the boy ends up forced into illegal fighting rings, until he makes a wrong move and the girl’s father decides he needs to be killed.

Where does that leave you? Well, you’re the one who handled Jungkook’s fight and generally organized his life, and, when the girl’s father, your boss and mafia leader, tells you he wants him ‘put down’, you’re the one who has to get it done. Except, instead, you let him escape, and everything turns out fine.

Until he comes back.

Also available on Ao3.

Word count (chapter): 5.8k

Genre: Mafia AU, Hybrid AU, enemies to lovers, heavy on angst, slow burn, eventual smut

Warnings & Tags (chapter): Descriptions of Violence, Tension, Dehumanization and general poor treatment of hybrids

A/N: So I have two modes and those are tooth-rotting fluff and angst feast. This is... not fluff. I hope you’ll enjoy this first installment and introduction to the series, and I will see you soon for the next one!

Your eyes follow Jungkook’s every step as he walks through the crowd and enters the cage that serves as a ring. He doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re watching. You’re always watching. You’re standing in your usual corner, from where you make sure everything goes smoothly. Two tall, muscular men stand on either side of you. They look like they’re your bodyguards, but really, they’re here to handle him if he tries to do something. To everyone in the room but the two of you, this looks like every other fight night since the very first time he came to the Circle.

You’re too far for him to smell you, especially over the crowd of excited, sweaty men, but if he did, he’s sure he would pick up on the bitter scent of anxiety, would hear your heart beating a little too fast. He’d say you’re lucky the guards aren’t hybrids, but he knows that’s not the case. You never count on luck. Everybody knows that. That’s what makes you so good at your job. That’s what might just save his life.

He glances at you, finds your eyes glued on him, and gives you a smirk, which reveals his abnormally pointy teeth for a rabbit hybrid. It’s been over a year since they’ve been sharpened for him, to make him look more threatening. You’re used to them, but he still sees you swallow. For the first time he wonders, vaguely, if you had any say in that. You’re the one he meets with nowadays, but you’re not his owner, after all.

Your eyes leave him to look at his opponent. The man’s taller and has broad shoulders, he seems to have some training based on his on-guard position, and he’s older than him. You couldn’t find many informations on him, but based on his attributes, he’s probably some kind of dog hybrid.

You both know he doesn’t stand a chance.

“On my left,” the announcer roars, “some fresh meat! I give you… Jin!”

There are enthusiastic shouts, and the man shoots nervous glances around him at the crowd all around him. It’s clear that he isn’t used to that type of setting, and you feel an unexpected wave a guilt in your chest. He’s going to get destroyed tonight, you’re sure of it. You’re the one who suggested that Jungkook should fight a newbie, for the show. You don’t regret your decision, but you don’t feel good about it either.

“And on my right! The man who needs no introduction, who has won thirty! Two! Fights in a row, I give you… Jungkook!”

The crowd goes hysterical, and the hybrid facing him winces again. If he thought he had chance before that, it’s clear that he doesn’t anymore. You wonder if he’d heard about Jungkook, if his owners had prepared him well enough, if whoever owned him was betting against him. You wonder if he’d just been told he would be fighting a rabbit hybrid and assumed he would be fine.

Jungkook’s long ears are flat against his head, carefully tucked under a headband, and without those, he doesn’t look like a rabbit hybrid, too tall and broad-shouldered. Then again, he had never really been your typical rabbit hybrid.

Truth was, you had been relieved when you had been assigned to working for the daughter of Mr. Xanders. Your whole life, you had known you would end up here. Your dad had worked for the Family since before your birth, and though it was clear your mom disapproved, she had never held any illusion that you would escape it. If anything, you were the sacrifice, a way of making sure your siblings wouldn’t be forced to work for the most powerful crime family in town. That was, if you did good enough.

Getting assigned to the girl who was nicknamed “the Princess” was both a blessing and a curse. It meant you got to stay away from most of the illegal stuff, as the girl was notoriously sheltered from all of that by her father. However, it also meant that you had to basically babysit the spoiled seventeen years old, despite her being only a few years younger than you. You had dressed as professionally and sternly as you could, adorning yourself in a dark woman’s suit, but she hadn’t seemed impressed.

That was how you found yourself here, at an auction for rare hybrids. You thought the whole thing was grim — oh, how naive you had to be back then, to think this was bad — but you had obeyed orders without batting an eye. You had to do this right, and this was a pretty easy job, after all.

You gritted your teeth silently as various hybrids were brought on stage, exhibited and bought, one by one. The status of hybrids was a complicated subject in the country, always had been, but you had grown up in a poor area, where a lot of hybrids lived freely, and the idea of owning what you knew to be a person made you sick to your stomach. At least the Princess hadn’t said a word the whole time you’d been there, and you had hopes that you would leave without — God — buying someone.

Naive. So damn naive.

“I want this one,” the girl had announced decidedly, pointing at the stage with a movement of her chin.

Shit.

You looked at the stage. There, the auctioneer was highly praising the hybrid who had last been brought on stage. A surprisingly tall and muscular rabbit hybrid, with fluffy black hair and long ears falling on either side of his head. He was shaking slightly, sending terrified looks around him, and your heart tightened in your chest.

Naive and soft.

“Are you sure?” you asked, and the girl rolled her eyes.

“Do your job. Get him for me.”

Numbers flashed in your mind, the exact amount of money you were allowed to spend clear as day. It made you feel a little better, for a second. This was what you were good with; numbers, facts, informations. If you thought of the hybrid as just that — a number, an element to compose with — you should be able to do what you were supposed to do. Do your damn job, and ensure your little brother never ever had to work here, because they wouldn’t be as kind to him.

You took a deep breath, and, after a few people had already considerably raised the price, you made your bid.

Jungkook walks to the center of the ring, arms raised high. He’s good at giving a show, good at most things, actually. He looks good here, confident, knowing exactly what he’s worth, and he’s nothing like what he was that first day. There is absolutely no fear on his face as he fists the air and people shout for him. Instead, he seems to be positively thriving on the attention he’s getting.

He’s a favorite here, because he always gives people what they came for. He makes the fight last, makes it theatrical, with twists and impressive moves. It’s been a while since he’s struggled in a fight, really struggled, which has made it easier. You recognize you’ve played your part in that. You have your word to say when picking his opponents, and you don’t want him to— well, to die, or to be too badly injured.

You know it’s not much. You know no matter what you tell yourself, that’s not protecting him. You know you should have acted a lot earlier.

But you didn’t.

They gave you Jungkook as soon as the payment was confirmed, which didn’t take long. People were fidgeting in the room, careful not to stare too long at the Princess. They knew who she was, of course. The bodyguards and your ghostly presence, one step behind her, did not do anything to soothe their nerves. No one actually knew you back then. You hadn’t earned your reputation of efficiency, no one had called you a cold-hearted bitch yet, though that would pretty much become your identifier, but you were still somewhat unnerving, with your stillness and your all black attire.

Which was why you never tried to add color to it.

The Princess seemed to be in her element, not bothered by the silence and people’s obvious fear of her, even for a second. Instead, she was watching her acquisition. The hybrid — Jungkook, you remembered, because you’d heard his name after winning the auction — was staring at the floor, stealing glances at her every once in a while, before quickly looking away again. He was clearly shy, and terrified, and it looked like the Princess liked that.

When they handed the leash to her, she was quick to clip it on his collar, and you held back your disgust. Your mind went to Mark, a kind golden retriever hybrid you had grown up with, and the idea of him being collared like that almost made you retch.

But, of course, none of that could be seen on your face. You had been told that you had the perfect poker face, unreadable at all times. In moments like this, it was a true blessing.

“Hello, Jungkook, I’m Anna, and I’m your new owner. I’m going to take good care of you.”

Then Jungkook looked up at her, briefly, and an adorable smile curved his lips.

You knew then that this could only end in pain and heartbreak.

Once Jungkook is done, he turns to face Jin. The other hybrid looks like he wants to run away, but even if he tried it, he’d be pushed right back in. So he does the smart thing, and prepares himself for the fight, lifting his hands to protect himself. Jungkook does the same thing. There is a brief moment of silence, everyone bracing themselves for what is to come. Despite his earlier display, Jungkook is deathly calm now, every muscle in his body ready for action.

The second the bell rings, Jungkook is moving, so fast he’s almost blurry, and you have to avert your eyes when his fist connects with the other hybrid’s chest.

This all feels like it could have been avoided.

A relationship quickly developed between the shy bunny and the Princess. You didn’t say anything about it; that wasn’t what you were here for. A baby-sitter, sure, but not a chaperone. Anyway, it seemed like Mr. Xanders wasn’t too worried about that, and his daughter was free to do whatever she wanted as long as she didn’t get pregnant. You supposed a hybrid was the perfect choice for that, with how rare it was for them to have children with a human. It could happen, of course, but it was highly unlikely without medical assistance.

Still, you weren’t sure you liked the relationship all that much. It just felt like Anna had so much power over him. He was a couple of years older than her, since selling hybrids under eighteen was technically illegal, but it was clear from the very beginning that he had been sheltered and didn’t have much experience in— well, in any areas. A sickening feeling told you that had probably been done on purpose by the people who had raised him. You were well aware of what rabbit hybrids were usually bought for.

You watched, silently, as they got close, as Anna’s hands started to easily find Jungkook’s, as Jungkook started to rest his head on her shoulder, to scent her, as he fell in love with her. Today, maybe you would have been annoyed at the sight, annoyed by his innocence, but back then, it only made you sad.

You were also there to see Anna grow bored of him. It didn’t even take her that long, no more than a couple of months.

When she insisted on going to another hybrid auction, and asked you to bid on someone else, you knew that it was over.

“Get him to fight,” Mr. Xanders told you dismissively at a meeting you had with him. “I want the money he cost me back.”

“He’s a rabbit hybrid,” you had said, frowning. “He’s not exactly the fighting type.”

“I didn’t tell you to make him win,” he scoffed. “I don’t care if you have to bet against him. Get my money back. After that, I don’t care what you do with him.”

You didn’t realize then that that was a ‘promotion’, and that this meant you would start working in illegal settings. All you knew was the painful weight in your chest at the idea of sending Jungkook to his death. You had kept away from him, not trying to create any bonds with him, but he smiled politely and kindly when he saw you.

God, he was in love with Anna. You were sure he had noticed her losing interest in him, but you also believed he held out hope. This could— This would probably be crushing for him.

So you took the matter into your own hands. You didn’t just sign him up for an upcoming fight, but you also found him a trainer, the best you could.

“Does Anna want me to learn how to fight?” he had asked you, big brown eyes looking at you, when you had told him about the training. “So I can be her bodyguard?”

“My orders don’t come from Anna,” you’d answered, trying to stay as distant as possible.

“But will she— Do you think she’ll like me again, if I learn to fight?”

No. You thought Anna had gotten everything she wanted from him.

“I don’t know,” you had answered. You couldn’t. You couldn’t do it.

The first fight had been brutal. Devastating, in fact. Jungkook had been training, and you’d been told he was good at what he was doing, but, as a newbie, he’d been sent against an expert fighter — “for the show”, you’d heard, the exact same thing you would use as well, years later —, and you were later told he was lucky he’d made it out alive.

You stayed next to him in the hospital room. As a hybrid, he healed quickly, but he still looked terrible, body marred with black and blue, lip busted, and black eyes. When he woke up, he looked around the room, every movement he made clearly painful, and you knew, at his expression, that there was only one thing he thought about in that moment.

Anna wasn’t there.

You would never forget the look he gave you then. The way he set his jaw, the way something hardened in his eyes.

“Get out,” he had said, and you were pretty sure he had meant for it to sound aggressive, but he wasn’t good at it yet, so it was more pleading.

You had gotten up, made a move to— to pat his shoulder, to do something, but you had refrained and your hand had fallen down to your side.

“I’m sorry,” you had said, and you had left him alone in there, with his broken hopes and heart.

That night was the first and last time you considered leaving your job.

But there was no quitting, where you worked.

In the ring, of course, Jungkook is good. He leaves an opening for the guy to place a few punches, ones that can’t hurt him too much. The crowd is delirious, bets are being placed. There’s a rumor that Jungkook was injured at the last fight so tonight could be the night where he loses his title, couldn’t it? The first round is coming to an end, and he doesn’t seem to have done much so, surely, he’s not going to be able to end that guy by the third, like he usually does — and if he does, hey, at least they’ll have had one hell of a show.

The three rounds thing is something you asked him to do after an organizer told you people needed that to feel they had gotten their money’s worth. You had told Jungkook, and he’d growled an answer, but he had never won in less than that since. For all his obvious hatred of you, the organization, and everything that surrounded him, he didn’t actively oppose you most of the time. He had tried to run away, twice, but when those attempts had failed, he had seemed to realize that it was just easier to go with the flow.

When the second round starts, though, he goes wild. His bare feet are light on the floor, his fists quick and precise. He doesn’t leave anything to luck either. Every punch lands exactly where he wants it to, when he wants it to. He dodges his opponent’s attacks easily, and he sees in his eyes the moment when the man realizes that he’s not winning this. He sees confidence turn into surprise, then into fear, and it only makes him want blood.

His right hook hits the man in the jaw with all the power he can put into it, and this time you don’t wince. You’ve gotten used to the violence now — it always takes you a while — and you’re mostly impressed at how good Jungkook is.

But that’s exactly why you’re in this situation, isn’t it?

“We should put him down,” Mr. Xanders said, with the exact same dismissive tone he had used years ago to tell you to make Jungkook fight, and you looked at him in disbelief. Surely, surely, he didn’t mean—

“I really disapprove of that solution, dad,” Anna said, shaking her head, and you realized he did.

You had been surprised by Anna’s presence, when you had walked into the office. You hadn’t worked for her in a long time, having graduated to far worse things. You had served your purpose, you supposed, made yourself practically indispensable when it came to the organizing of the Family’s business, as you knew the workings of the Family in and out, both legal and… less legal aspects. No one had ever said anything about your siblings joining.

“He attacked someone,” her father simply shrugged.

“If I may, Mr. X, it was after a fight and the man was being really aggressive after he lost the money he’d bet against—”

“I don’t care,” he said, waving his hand like you were just an annoying fly. “He attacked a human. We can’t have our hybrids doing that, otherwise it will just be chaos. You’re smart enough to know that.”

You swallowed. Something inside you was screaming. You had long shut down any form of moral compass, but it seemed like Jungkook always awoke the last remnants of it. You were pretty sure he despised you now, and you didn’t blame him for it. But, just like what you’d thought when Anna had bought him, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this just wasn’t right.

“I understand, sir.”

“That’s a horrible thing you’re doing, dad,” Anna insisted. “I thought you’d try to at least reason with him, (Y/N).”

That wasn’t your job. You knew when your opinion was asked on those things, and now was not one of those times. You also knew that you hated that she called you by your first name, like the two of you were friends, and you didn’t say anything about that either.

“I’m sorry, honey,” Mr. Xanders said warmly, like he had just refused to buy her an expensive toy, and not condemned a man to death. “I’ll make it up to you, okay?”

Anna sighed and rolled her eyes, and you assumed she’d probably stay mad at him for a while. But not too long.

Your heart was beating so loud in your chest you barely heard Mr. Xanders dismissing you, and you were relieved to be left alone when you walked out. There was only one thing you wanted to be thinking about now.

How were you going to save Jungkook’s life?

Jin hits the floor and doesn’t get up. It’s not an actual knock-out, because he’s still moving around, but Jungkook doubts he’ll even try to get back on his feet. The guy seems to be smart, he probably realizes that that would be suicide. Another minute with him on the ring? Nah. That would be a really, really stupid thing to do. Jungkook’s knuckles are bleeding — he doesn’t think they’ve been intact once in the four years he’s been fighting — and he’s pretty much unstoppable, right now.

He lets the referee grab his arm and lift it in the air as the crowd screams. They’re particularly loud tonight, because he won in two rounds. It’s not really a surprise when they force the entrance of the cage, flooding it, and Jungkook looks for you, almost instinctively. When he finds you, your eyes are on your phone. You look like you couldn’t care less about what’s happening around you, and he knows you do genuinely dislike the fights. You’ve never made it a secret. You’ve never taken care of the other hybrids owned by the family who participate, either. He doesn’t know if he’s your burden, or if you’re the one who chooses to still do that. Before, he wouldn’t have doubted it. Now… He’s not so sure.

Your eyes flicker up to his for a second, and you nod, imperceptibly. Your heart is probably beating as loud as his right now, though for different reasons.

Jungkook examines you, takes in how out of place you are in that environment, immaculately dressed, small glasses on your nose, hair pulled back, and lets himself be amused by it, one last time.

And then he’s gone.

You only visited Jungkook when there was about to be a fight, and it was clear he really didn’t like it when you showed up. You always seemed to be interrupting him, whether it was a training session or a work-out. You didn’t think you’d ever seen him do something other than those two things. You didn’t know if he had anything else.

You brought some food from a restaurant he liked, as you usually did, and got some things for the guards who would be around. That wasn’t as usual, but you had done it before, so hopefully it wouldn’t make anyone suspicious and it would allow you to have some privacy with Jungkook.

He sat down opposite from you, immediately diving into the food you’d brought, and you watched silently. His shoulders were tense, never completely down but, though he would hate to admit it, he was more relaxed around you than around anyone else. It said a lot about his life, about how desperate he was for any form of companionship, that the way you told him about his opponents almost made him feel like you cared about him. It said a lot that your presence comforted him, and it was pretty pathetic, if you asked him.

“So, who am I fighting?” he asked while eating. He never bothered with his manners when he was around you.

“A newbie,” you said. “Some fighting training from what I’ve gathered, but he shouldn’t be an issue.”

He growled. The sound was unnatural for a rabbit hybrid, but he had mastered it over the years. It was a good way of intimidating people.

“Really? I thought I told you I wanted a challenge.”

You didn’t reply immediately, and that made him look up at you. When he did, you were chewing on the inside of your cheek, hesitant. That was completely out of character. Then, you made up your mind, and your expression turned back to the unreadable one he was so familiar with.

“Keep eating, and don’t raise your voice” you ordered.

He lifted an eyebrow. Normally, he would have done something like folding his arms and waited for more, in a defiant attitude, but this was you. You would never do something like that just to assert your power over him. He hated your guts, but that was one thing he could say about you.

“Mr. X is going to have you killed because you attacked that man at your last fight.”

There. Direct, to the point, not a useless word — though you couldn’t bring yourself to use the words “put you down”. Jungkook froze for a half a second, than resumed his eating, albeit slower than before.

“It was all good as long as long as I brought him money, but he doesn’t want any trouble for it, huh?”

His voice was bitter and low, barely more than a rumble. You were confident no one was paying attention to you, since the guards ate in another part of the house and no one cared about what you were saying. They could see you through the picture window, but they couldn’t read lips. Still, you lowered your voice as well.

“Win your next fight in two rounds,” you said, instead of answering him.

He shot you a dirty glance.

“Do you really think that’s what I—”

“That should get the crowd to lose their mind,” you continued. You had gone through all the possibilities in your mind, over and over again. This was the one that was the safest for you and your family, while giving Jungkook a reasonable chance of survival. “When that happens, you’ll use the hysteria to leave through your opponent’s entrance.”

This got his attention, and he stopped trying to interrupt you, finally focusing on your words.

“I can probably get you somewhere between five and ten minutes before everyone finds out you’re missing.”

He scoffed.

“That’s very generous of you.”

“I also won’t look too hard for you,” you added, because you would obviously be in charge of that as well. “So as long as you don’t do a terrible job hiding, we probably won’t find you. Stay away from hotels, and don’t get noticed.”

Jungkook stayed silent for a while. He didn’t look at you, jaw set, and you were pretty sure he was weighing the pros and cons of your plan.

“I don’t know if there’ll be another chance,” you told him truthfully. “They want you gone after the fight.”

The silence went on a little longer, before Jungkook spoke again.

“Anna’s said yes to that?”

You didn’t miss the way his voice faltered on her name. You didn’t think he had spoken to her in years, but he still had a soft spot for her, and being reminded of it always made you sad. You had accepted, a long time ago, that life wasn’t fair, but that was particularly true when it came to him. None of what had happened to him was fair. The shy boy with the wide eyes you’d helped buy at the auction deserved better. You didn’t, probably deserved every single bad thing that had happened to you, but for him, you wished you had done something — anything — differently. So you wouldn’t be faced with a jaded, cynical version of that boy right now.

“She opposed it, but her father is still going through with it.”

“So she didn’t oppose it much.”

You didn’t answer that. It was true, and you both knew it.

You glanced at your watch. Your time here was almost over, and you had a lot of responsibilities.

“Will you do it?”

Jungkook glanced at you, eyes wary.

“How do I know you’re telling me the truth? You could just do that so you could have me killed and say I tried to escape.”

You shook your head, almost amused by the possibility.

“I would gain nothing from doing that, and if I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t go about it that way. Will you do it?”

This time, he nodded. He didn’t trust you, but he thought you were telling the truth on this. So following your plan would be just as well.

“Good. I’ll see you for the fight.”

This would have been a good moment to wish him good luck, probably, but you didn’t do luck, so you didn’t say anything. You gave him a quick nod, gathered your things, and then you were out.

You didn’t think to say goodbye.

“We’ll get him when the crowd’s dispersed,” one of the bodyguards says, and you hum noncommittally in response, eyes on your phone.

Moron.

If these two were the ones you usually work with, they would know that your usual protocol is to go get Jungkook as soon as the referee’s lifted his hand up. That way, you can get him out as quickly as possible and you don’t have to worry about him getting mobbed. But you’ve changed your team the day Mr. Xanders asked you to ‘put Jungkook down’, so they have no idea. It’s been a week since then, which shouldn’t make it too suspicious. Hopefully.

When the crowd does move enough to see what’s going on in the cage — three minutes — one of the two men says, voice worried, “Hey, can you see him?”

Your head snaps up and your eyes scan the room. You’re relieved to see that Jungkook’s nowhere in sight.

“Where is he?” you ask urgently, and the men seem to shrink under your glare, exchanging worried glances. You roll your eyes and sigh. This may be your plan, but they’re still acting incompetent. Which is good for you, sure, but the perfectionist in you is annoyed.

“You two should pray he’s in the changing room,” you spit out as you march towards it. It takes some struggle, because the crowd isn’t exactly calming down, but it’s not too long.

Of course, Jungkook isn’t in the changing room. It was a bad idea to go look there anyway — usually you would probably have already informed everyone that he had disappeared — but these two don’t seem to realize that.

“Go search the fighting room,” you order, “make sure you haven’t missed anything. Then check the surroundings. I’ll stay there. Let me know if you find something.”

They practically run out, and you allow yourself to sit down. This isn’t even dangerous yet. If Jungkook’s done that part correctly, he should already be too far for them to find him. As far as you’re concerned, you’ve bought him — you check your watch — seven minutes. But even if you don’t doubt him, you still feel terror at the idea they could catch him. You don’t know what would happen then. You don’t want to think about it.

The seconds tick by. It’s been almost exactly ten minutes when your phone rings.

“Hello, Miss—”

“Do you have him?” you bark.

There’s a silence.

“I want an answer!” you snap.

“No. I’m sorry. We’ve lost him.”

You hang up immediately and start to dial another number to let people know Jungkook’s missing.

But, before you actually call, you let out a brief sigh of relief.

This just might work.

You get home late the following night. When you do, you’re absolutely exhausted. You’ve had a terrible day, unable to sleep a wink, and you got thoroughly chewed out over Jungkook going missing. You think Mr. X was suspicious of you, because you basically don’t fuck up, ever, but then Anna started to wax poetics about how “Jungkook was a soul who wanted to live”, and you don’t think he bought it, but it at least got his mind off of you.

You doubt he’d get you killed over that, it just isn’t worth it and you’re pretty valuable, but it would be much better if he didn’t think about it too much.

You’ve organized the searches, pretty sloppily in your own opinion. Of course, it’s possible that they could find him, but if Jungkoook does his part, everything should be okay.

You remove your shoes with a groan when you walk in. You usually never regret wearing heels, thankful for the centimeters they help you gain, but tonight you definitely do. Keeping them on for two days was not how they had been intended to be used.

Once they’re off your feet, you painfully walk to your kitchen. All you want to do is to make yourself a cup of tea before going to bed, but you stop yourself before grabbing your kettle.

Something feels— off. You’re probably the only person who could notice it, because you’re so obsessive with everything that’s in your home, but you just can’t miss it. It’s not much, just some items that aren’t where they should be, or that were moved a little to the side.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you hesitantly grab a knife from your kitchen drawer. You don’t think that would do anything, if someone was in your apartment right now, because you can’t fight and, considering the people you work for, you’re pretty sure if someone wanted to kill you they would, but it makes you feel better.

You make your way through the living-room slowly, heart hammering in your chest. You check the bathroom, first. No one’s in there, but it’s clear that whoever was there used it as well. He didn’t put your toothpaste back where it belonged.

That only leaves your room. You walk in, carefully, to find it empty. Your bed’s done, though not exactly how you do it, and that confuses you. At least until your eyes find the necklace that’s on your bedside table.

It’s the identifying tag Jungkook wore around his neck for fights. You reach out for it, in disbelief, and that only confirms what you thought.

A laugh bubbles in your throat, and you just can’t hold it in. It escapes your lips, breaking the silence that always reigns in your apartment.

Here. He was here, in the eye of the storm, while everyone was looking for him. You have no idea where he is now, but this makes you feel like he’ll be fine. Clearly, he is a smart man and he has resources.

You fall to the ground, lean against your bed, holding the tag in your hand. You give yourself a second. That’s more than you usually get. It’s a second to close your eyes and feel grateful and happy about what happened, a second to think that perhaps not everything is dark and terrible in the world.

A second, because Jungkook made it out.

And then, you open your eyes, and you come back to your reality, which is that you’ll be working for the family tomorrow, and the day after that, and probably for the rest of your life. There’s no out for you. No hope.

But at least Jungkook should be fine. You’ll never know about it, because if he is, then you’ll never hear about him again.

If you ever do, it will only mean bad news.

Thank you for reading! I hope you’ve enjoyed this first chapter and feel free to let me know if you would like to be tagged for future ones!

#jungkook x reader #bts #bts x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook #jeon jungkook #hybrid jungkook #candywrites

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mrs-gucci · 3 years ago

Note

I’m going to try come up with other ideas lol but these jumped out at me. I would absolutely use these for something! I’m saving them too because I just might!

But if you feel like it, these combined scenarios could be really fun for a sarcastic, grouchy ass Flip or Kylo AU. It could be anything from enemies to antagonists to the guy being in trouble with you currently from doing stupid shit and trying to make up with you! Anything you think!

your enemy has been badly wounded, and somebody needs to bandage them up, so you agree to help them, and suddenly they're shirtless, and you can't help but admire their body, something this cheeky motherfucker takes notice of

there's only one bed, but this time, they're arguing over who should sleep on the floor, which nobody agrees to, so instead they end up sharing, incredibly annoyed over having to share their space (it’s not like friends to lovers, in which they both awkwardly get into bed. this is straight up just. i will set this bed on fire if you don’t stay on your side)

The Longest Knight {Sir Kylo Ren x Reader}

author's notes: hello, hello! shannon, dear, you always seem to know what I'm in need of when you send requests in. I've been dying for an excuse to write some medieval/knight Kylo, and this fits in perfectly with that AU, so thank you! <3

**THERE ARE SOME DARK(ER) THEMES IN THIS STORY, BUT ONLY AT THE VERY BEGINNING (there’s an indicator of when the dark content ends, in bold, you can’t miss it). PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS AND TW’S BEFORE PROCEEDING!**

warnings: some angst. some gore. some fluff. smut. enemies-with-benefits. sex w/o feelings. kylo is a huge douche (but in, like, a lowkey sexy way).

tw's: (at the very beginning): dead bodies & blood, vivid depictions of wounds/injuries, brief depictions of battle, implied (battle-related) murder. mentions of sex work (later on in the story, not relating to the reader character).

word count: 4.4k

terms to know: loincloth: groin-covering cloth tied around the waist (literally just underwear). bedswerver: “adulterer” (an insult). mamillare: medieval breast band (bra).

When the sounds of marching footfall, deep cries of manly battle, and shod hooves pounding on the drought-hardened ground had ceased from the air, you saddle your horse and ride out to the far field of your property.

The putrid smell of rotting flesh hits you before any bodies are even in view. Your prized stallion slows his trot, nostrils flaring and ears perked forward as the scene of battle presents itself to both of you.

He begins to snort and whinny in acute panic at the sight of so many corpses, both human and horse. Your stomach begins to churn, and you can barely bring yourself to look upon the scene as your heel encourages him onward, wanting to make sure there aren’t any surviving soldiers.

Both sides seem to have suffered great loss, although you’re unsure which corpses belong to which side. The conflict betwixt Alderaan and Naboo has been dragging on much too long, and at the end of the day, is any conflict truly worth all of the lives lost?

You certainly didn’t think so, but perhaps you’re just too close to this war, incapable of having an unbiased opinion due to the loss of your beloved husband at the hands of Sir Kylo Ren, the Alderaanean calvary general and the most feared man across all five kingdoms.

As you make your rounds to check for survivors, much to the dismay of your steed, you quickly lose almost all hope that anyone laid here ended up surviving the brutality apparently brought down upon them during the fight.

Suddenly, your horse lifts himself up on hinds legs ever so slightly, jogging in place as a barely-audible groan comes from one of the men. His hand moves ever so slightly, and you quickly rush over to him, dismounting with a small first aid bag.

His helmet is that of a high-ranking official, but on which side he belongs, it’s too hard to tell. Not that it truly matters, you’d take just about any man with the courage to fight these battles.

“Sir?” You say, kneeling down beside the large man. “Do you remember what happened to you?”

He grunts lowly, winter-chapped lips opening in an attempt to speak. “S-Stomach.”

Once your mind registers his husky words, you look down at his abdomen and see that his armor seems to have been compromised in a spot right on the side of his stomach. Fresh blood seeps from the deep wound, and you cringe, grabbing one of the towels from your pack to gently wipe away some of the blood, but the tear in flesh is so deep, it’s impossible to do with just one towel. **dark content warnings ENDS**

“My estate is just a short ride from here. I cannot hold your weight myself, but if you can mount my horse, I will take you back and mend your wounds to the best of my ability.”

The mask nods softly, slowly but surely lifting himself up off the ground, wobbling towards your horse, who snorts nervously. He seemingly understands the severity of the situation, though, and stands still as the knight sits himself on his back.

From there, he lays back, breath catching in his throat as his injuries are tweaked with each of the horses’ strides. You hold onto the reins, leading your stallion back to the house.

After quite a bit of maneuvering and a lot of quarreling with the injured knight, you finally manage to set him up the cot in your spare bedroom. He sits down on the chair as you do so, mumbling and grumbling about his pain. You found it quite annoying, really, but you can’t really blame him for acting in such a way.

“You’ll need to remove your armor, sir. I cannot treat your wounds with it on.”

“By God’s bones.” He curses under his breath in annoyance, but stands and removes his body armor nonetheless.

Piece by piece is peeled from his body, his physically intimidating figure revealed slowly to your curious eyes. Only his under-layers were left, soon enough, and you found it a bit odd that he hadn’t taken his helmet off first. You would think that would be a great relief to have the proper air exposure on your face, but you’re not really in a place to make assumptions about that sort of thing.

His brilliantly alabaster skin is severely bloodied, bruised, and badly butchered. He would require quite some time to heal and recover, but if you learned anything from being married to an army man, it’s that they’re all stubborn bastards who never take the proper time to allow time for their bodies to properly heal.

He’s soon fully exposed to you, minus his helmet and threadbare loincloth, and you have to look away quickly as your cheeks heat up. The small garment left very little to the imagination, and this knight was...well endowed, to put it kindly.

Putting your own personal feelings aside for the betterment of the patient, you look back up at him with a small smile. “You may remove your helmet now, good sir.”

“I cannot reach up to grab it from my head.” He says in a flat, unamused voice.

“Of course.” You scold yourself for not thinking of that. “Well, if you lay down on the cot, I shall remove it for you.”

Instead of protest, which is what you expected, he complied with your instructions and laid down on the cot. He grunts satisfyingly at the comfort of a mattress, most likely used to sleeping on the ground.

When you reach for the bottoms of his helmet to pull it off, he suddenly snatches your wrist, stopping you instantly.

“If you need touch me, ask before doing so.” His voice is nothing more than a growl.

You almost roll your eyes, starting to truly become annoyed with this knight. You invited him into your home and you’re willing to be his bedside nurse...and he has the audacity to request something like this.

Again you’re forced to put your personal feelings aside for the sake of your patient and for the maintenance of your bedside manner, forcing a smile onto your face. “With all due respect, sir, I’m your nurse for the time being. I will be needing to touch you quite often. Am I really expected to ask each and every time?”

“Yes.” He replies.

Your jaw clenches and you wish nothing more in this moment than to smack this man right across the face.

“Fine. May I please remove your helmet?”

Sparing you the assurance of a vocal reply, the mask simply nods, and you pull it over his head. When the face of your patient is revealed to your eyes, you’re appalled.

It’s Sir Kylo Ren...the man that murdered your husband.

You drop the helmet onto the ground, metal clattering as it rocks back and forth once it’s settled in one spot on the hardwood. This can’t be real.

He snarls. “Why are you looking upon me with that expression? Have you never seen a man before? I have wounds that need tended to, girl, and I’d like to be out of here before sundown.”

Anger begins to boil your blood, tears burning in your eyes as you look down at the man before you.

“You bastard.” Your hand raises, ready to strike him clean against the cheek. He catches your fist in his hand before you can, though.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you.” Kylo warns, squeezing your fist. “I’ll have to have you beheaded for hitting an army man, and your head is much too pretty to be put to such waste.”

You snort, yanking yourself from his grip, teeth gritting as you walk out to fetch all the medical supplies. He’s wearing a cocky expression when you walk back in.

“I recognize you.” He says.

You huff, unamused. “How could you possibly recognize me? We’ve never met.”

His lips curl up into a devious smirk. “You’re right, we haven’t met before, but I recognize you from your husband’s description. I asked him what you looked like, since he was babbling on and on about you.”

You freeze up, bottom lip beginning to quiver as Sir Kylo continues.

“Then I drove my blade straight through his pathetic chest, and later that night, I touched myself as I thought of you.”

He chuckles deviously.

“Bedswerver!” You yell, cocking your fists once more and lunging at him, ready to strike once more. But then, you stop yourself, knowing the consequences you’d surely face should you actually hit him.

Your fists lower and you simply say nothing, preparing the cloths in the warm water. The tears run down your cheeks on their own volition, but you quickly wipe them away before turning back towards him.

“He wasn’t worthy of your company, Y/N.” Kylo says as you begin to clean the wounds on his stomach. “And he clearly didn’t satisfy you in the way you needed, considering the manner in which you looked over my body when I took my armor off.”

His hand reaches around and squeezes your ass, making you jump.

“How long has it been, little lamb? A young woman like you shouldn’t have to live without a man to satisfy her aching need.”

You can’t pretend that you’re not aroused by his words, by his touch. But you’d never let him have you, not in a thousand years. So, you quickly swat his hand away and continue cleaning his wounds. “That’s none of your concern, Sir Kylo. I am perfectly content without a man and that’s all I’m going to say on the matter.”

He laughs. “That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one. I bet you’re aching right now, just from my words and my simple touch.”

Before he can touch you further, you back away, limbs trembling with anger and frustration. You dunk the bloody rag back into the bowl of water, ring it out a bit, then throw it onto his chest.

“Clean the wounds yourself, since you can obviously move your hands and arms perfectly fine.” You say, wiping your own on a dry cloth. “I’ll be back to bandage you in a bit.”

“Don’t think of me too much, lamb. You’ll release too quickly.” He snickers as you slam the door shut behind you, bursting into tears the moment you step foot into your bedroom.

You sob quietly, the freshly-healed stitches of your heart popping open one at a time, the grief and pain of losing your beloved consuming you once more.

And now you’re here, mending his killer.

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

It takes everything you have, every ounce of willpower, to wake up and face Sir Kylo every single day. You know you’re doing the right thing by helping him, but that doesn’t make dealing with him any easier.

He’s impossibly stubborn, arrogant beyond comprehension, and increasingly grumpy. But, you just have to keep going, keep pushing through, reminding yourself that each day brings you closer and closer to his inevitable departure.

You’ve all but blocked out his inappropriate and antagonizing comments or remarks, just getting his bandages replaced and then leaving the room as quickly as possible.

Today, though, he’s achieved a new level of jackassery, a thing you thought impossible until he did it. And boy, did he do it.

“I’ve made arrangements for a few whores to come and provide me some...company.”

Your fist tightens around the bandage in your hand. He smirks.

“You’re more than welcome to join us. There’s plenty of me to go around, little lamb. You’ll get your turn.”

“No, thanks. I think I’d rather stab myself with a sword.” You reply, beginning to switch out his bandages. “You’re lucky I’m even allowing it to occur in my house.”

He just chuckles. “You’d probably be bad, anyway.”

You suddenly rip the bandage off of his skin, causing him to cry out in pain. He looks at you, and you glare down at him. “Just...can you please just stop talking for once in your life? Must you always berate me when all I’ve done over the past few weeks is take care of you? Is this what kindness, genuine kindness, gets me?”

He suddenly seems to sober up, to let what he’s done to you sink in. It doesn’t last long, but you still see it. Perhaps he does have the capability to feel at least some sense of remorse.

Kylo stays quiet for the rest of the time you tend to his wounds, and when you turn to leave, the two words you’ve been convinced are not in his vocabulary, come from the behind you.

“Thank you.”

This sliver of empathy is short lived, especially after the girls from the local brothel make their way up to his room.

“Oh! Oh! Sir Kylo!”

You shake your head, attempting to read in the study, which is located on the other side of house from the guest bedroom. Yet, their screams, cries and the various other lewd noises still manage to make their way to your ears.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” “Take it, whore, take it!” “Kyloooooooo!”

The temptation to go up there and kick the girls out is increasing by the second, but you don’t. Maybe this will help mellow him out a bit, make him more manageable. Plus, you’re pretty sure that you’d have to carve your eyes out after walking in on whatever they’re doing up behind that closed door.

Unfortunately for you, it becomes progressively more difficult to focus on your book as the burn between your thighs intensifies. It’s been almost two years since your husband was murdered, which means that it’s been a little over that since you were last intimate with someone.

Normally, and up until Sir Kylo entered your household, you were more than fine subduing your sexual desires. You haven’t once touched yourself, not that you’d really know how to anyway, and you certainly weren’t about to start now.

You cross your legs, hoping that’ll quell some of the burning, but it only makes it worse. Another half an hour passes and your hand now rests on your thigh, slowly inching down towards your soaked and quivering pussy.

Just a quick touch won’t hurt...he doesn’t have to know...

Luckily, a knock at the door brings your motions to a stop. You sigh in relief, walking over to open the door. When you do, you’re met with a bandaged bare torso, a very muscular bare torso. His skin glistens with sweat and the smell of sex radiates from his essence.

He’s still breathing heavily as he stands in the doorway, looking down at you.

“We’re finished upstairs.” He says breathily. “I’m due for my afternoon bandage change, whenever you’re ready.”

You watch him saunter away, admiring the way his muscles stretch and tense with each stride. You’re burning up by now, both your skin and your arousal, and you wonder how you’re going to get through this next bandage change.

When you enter the room, the musk of sex is thick in the air, humidity at a suffocating level. You try to ignore it, try not to let it get to you, but it’s just surrounding you.

Your skin begins to glisten, brow furrowed as you focus on trying to change these bandages as quickly as possible. Kylo seems to take notice of your hurry, your sudden perspiring.

“Is something wrong?” He asks you, biting back a smirk. “You seem flustered.”

Nodding, you continue on with the bandaging. “I’m fine, just a bit warm is all.”

Kylo hums, reaching down to grab your wrist as you reach up to re-bandage the wound on his chest. He brings your fingers up to his lips, sucking the tips into his mouth gently, tongue swiping over the pads of your digits.

You try to pull away, to leave before you do something you regret, but his hold on you is firm. And if you’re honest with yourself, you don’t actually want him to stop.

Oh lord, this is bad. It’s so wrong. You shouldn’t want this. He murdered your husband, the man you loved. He’s so smug and cocky and yet...it’s what you’ve been wanting this whole time, the thing you’ve tried to suppress, to not let yourself want.

But now, everything else be damned, you want this. You need this. And damnit, you’re gonna have it.

His lips release your fingertips with a lewd pop! sound, an arrogant smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You haven’t tried to pull away or tell me off in a minute or two. Is everything alright?”

You huff. “Just do it.”

He raises his eyebrows, sitting up a little. “Do what? What do you want me to do, little lamb?”

“You know what I want.”

“Oh yes, I’m fully aware of what you want.” He smirks. “But I want to hear you say it out loud.”

You cross your arms on your chest, trying to ignore the twang of guilt that shoots through you as you prepare to say the words aloud.

“Fine. I want you to f-fuck me.”

“That’s right. I knew you wanted it.” Kylo takes your hand and trails it down his muscular abdomen, stopping just above where his loincloth sits on his hips.

“Take it off.”

You’re chewing your lip numb as you reach down and undo the tie holding the garment on. Your breath hitches as you slide it off, exposing his member, which is hardening steadily.

“Instead of staring, perhaps you’d like to try touching it?” He smirks.

You shoot him a glare. “Stop talking, for once in your life, please spare my ears the sound of your constant squabble.”

Kylo chuckles, putting his hands behind his head.

Your hand wraps around the base of his length, and he grunts softly. It’s your turn to wear a smirk.

“Oh, do you like that, Sir Kylo?”

He huffs. “Every man likes their cock being touched. Don’t go thinking that it means anything.”

You squeeze his shaft, drawing a deep grunt from his lips and small buck of his hips. He looks away, jaw clenched in an attempt to prevent any further noises.

This fact only makes you more determined, hand pumping his cock with more vigor, alternating between different paces and pressures to really drive him crazy.

You’re thoroughly enjoying this, drinking in the sight of him trying his absolute hardest not to react to the touches that so obviously arouse him. You tease him even more, using your fingers to touch certain parts of his length.

Well, it’s fun for the few minutes it lasts, but suddenly, you find yourself in his position, laid back on the cot. He’s on top of you, now, pushing the skirts of your dress up, fingers yanking the laces on your bodice.

He quickly pulls it off, followed by your skirts, leaving you in only your mamillare and your loincloth. His eyes roam your newly exposed skin for a moment before his hand slips down between your thighs, fingers pressing up against the fabric.

“I knew it. Were you listening, little lamb? Were you listening to me fuck those whores and wishing it was you?”

Your breath hitches. “Well, it was sort of hard not to listen when the girls were screaming.”

His fingers wrap around the waist tie, pulling them down to fully expose your wet heat. He smirks, rubbing around until he finds that one spot that has your back arching and a gasp escaping your lips.

Before he can even say anything, you reiterate his words in a mocking tone. “Every woman likes being touched there. Don’t go thinking that it means anything.”

He huffs, rubbing you harder.

“Tell me how wet you got when you heard me fucking those whores. Tell me that you wanted a turn on my cock, wondered how good I’d feel inside you.”

“N-No.” You say, a stern expression on your face. “I’ll never say that to you.”

His jaw clenches as he bends down, lips next to your ear. “You'll be screaming it once I’m done with you.”

Your eyes widen when his fingers slowly press up into your entrance.

“Kylo...” You’ve never been touched in this way before. It’s...different, and not necessarily unpleasant.

He sees your hesitation. “Trust me, you’ll like it.”

And you did.

His digits begin moving in and out of you, curling up occasionally to stimulate a certain tender spot inside you. You’re biting down on your lip, surely hard enough to break the skin, trying your darndest not to give him the privilege of hearing your noises.

As you did to him, seeing you suppress your noises only spurs him on more, movements becoming quicker, swifter. Your orgasm draws closer with each skilled stroke, but just before you reach your peak, he pulls out.

You thought you wanted to hit him before; now, you kind of want to pop some of his abdomen stitches.

“Why did you do that?”

He laughs devilishly, reaching down to pump his cock, slicking it with the juices of your arousal. “You didn’t think I’d actually let you get off that easily, did you?”

“Well, I was sort of hoping...”

You’re brought to silence when he crawls on top of you, trapping you beneath his massive form. His mushroom head swirls around your entrance, collecting some of your slick before pressing it inside of you.

It’s been quite a while since you’ve had anyone, and you don’t think you’ve ever had someone of his size before, so you gasp softly as he presses forth. Soon, his entire length is seated in you, stretching and filling you to the brim.

His eyes are squeezed shut, jaw clenched as he tries to remain still in order to allow you an adjustment period. Once you’ve had some time, he begins moving his hips, rolling them at a steady pace.

“Knew you’d have a nice little cunt,” He growls, teeth baring. “So wet and tight for me, little lamb.”

You bite your numbing lip in an attempt to prevent any of the desperate moans or cries that want to escape. He’s doing something similar, jaw clenched tightly.

Only the wet squelch and sharp snapping of skin colliding can be heard between the two of you, minus the occasional grunt or sharp inhale from either of you, which is quickly shut down almost as soon as it slips out.

Soon, you feel your climax begin to appear on the horizon, walls clenching and pulsing around his cock. He takes notice, quickly speeding his rhythm up, exhaling loudly through his flared nostrils.

He’s getting close, too, balls pulling up as his body prepares itself for orgasm. The energy between you two, as well as your physical movements, quickly turn desperate.

“Don’t release inside me.”

“I’m flattered that you think I’d even want to.” He says, smugly.

You huff, rolling your eyes. “I see that even the throws of passion and ecstasy is still not enough to tamper your unbearable attitude.”

“There is nothing that can stop me from taking the opportunity to get a rise out of you, milady.” He smirks before his brows knit in the center of his forehead. “If you’re gonna cum, I suggest you do it s-soon.”

Your eyes flutter shut, hips attempting to lift up off the mattress, wanting him to hit that certain spot inside you. As soon as you find the right angle, a choked sob leaves your lips as you’re quickly brought and tossed over the edge.

Kylo groans softly, thrusting rapidly before pulling out at the last minute, spilling his seed all over your abdomen.

Both of you are breathless as you ride out your climaxes, basking in the peaceful bliss that washes over your body, basking in the luxury of his utter and complete silence. It was a welcome change, a much-needed reprieve from the past few weeks of dealing with him.

He eventually flops down onto the mattress beside you, grabbing and re-securing his loincloth around his hips. You’re already a bit sore from being stretched for the first time in two years.

“May I just sleep here tonight, Sir Kylo? Unless you’d like to carry me back over to my bedroom.”

The side-eye he gives you is incredibly humorous, but you contain your laughter, not wanting to add oil to the flame.

“I won’t be a bother. I will stay on this side of the cot; you’ll barely even know I’m here.”

“Are you truly incapable of walking yourself back to your bedroom after one session of fucking? Was I really that amazing that I’ve left you unable to move about the house?” He laughs.

"And suddenly, the pain of walking over to my room seems less painful than staying here and listening to your vexing squabble.”

Kylo huffs. “If you stay here for the night, you may not breach the center of the mattress. I will kick you out if you even come close to bumping into me or making any sort of physical contact.”

Mocking his words from earlier, you smirk. “I’m flattered that you think I’d even want to touch you.”

“Very funny.” He says, flatly, rolling over to face away from you. “Just stay on your fucking side of the bed.”

You roll your eyes, sitting up to braid your hair for bed before fluffing the goose-feather pillow beneath your head, settling down for the night. Soon, Sir Kylo’s obnoxious snores bounce off the walls and you put your pillow over your head, hoping to muffle the noise.

God, even his snores are arrogant.

The next morning, when your eyes flutter open at the first sign of light through the window, you find the sheets next to you vacant.

You sit up, eyebrows furrowed as you look around the room, ears open to listen for any noise anywhere in the house. You don’t hear anything.

Then, you see a piece of rolled up parchment on his pillow along with a small satchel. When you open the pouch, you’re shocked to see a pile of shiny coins. You unrolled the note, reading the sloppy script.

For the medical supplies and for your trouble. Here’s hoping our paths never cross again.

-Kylo

As you read the very brief and to-the-point note, you can practically hear his snide voice in your head reciting it. The cold, cocky tone of his words shone through the parchment and ink, incredibly so. You huff, tossing the note back onto the pillow before getting up to begin the day.

Well...at least you’ll never have to see him again.

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