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luimagines · 4 years ago

Note

Perhaps them being protective over you(the reader)? Mostly platonic but hints of romantic(if you get what I mean?) Like, the relationship between them has been platonic and they’ve only really seen it has platonic, but someone(the Heroes) might be catching feelings. Also if it isn’t too much trouble do you think you could keep this in the same timeline? Like, your other scenarios had the same reader and felt like these all happened at some point, can you do the same for this one? I hope this isn’t too much trouble, really love your blog!💖💖💖

Masterlist

Ok, I think I get what you mean. The Hero is protective with a hint of feelings they haven't come to terms with. They're crushing but they don't know it yet.

I don't know what you mean by the same timeline though. It wasn't supposed to be the same reader for all of them but hey! It be like that sometimes, I guess! Especially if they're just friends.

The Reader is also set to be the same age as Wind for his scenario.

Warrior's got longer than intended and there is some catcalling in that one. FYI

Scenario under the cut!

Legend

"You can be seriously going out in that." Legend couldn't help but snap. The group had been dropped into a snowcapped mountain in the middle of a blizzard. The only luck they had on their side was a nearby cave where they all but ran to in an attempt to weather the storm and get their bearings.

But someone still had to scout and you were planning to take Wild and Twilight with you since they were the only ones who could both brace the cold and most likely find their way back.

He, however, didn't like the idea of you going out there period.

Even less so when he found you severely underdressed compared to your companions.

It seemed however, that you saw no problem with it, even going as far as to tilt your head and look down at what you were wearing at his comment. It sparked something in Legend's chest that he wasn't willing to decipher at the moment.

"What's wrong with it?" You asked.

"Are you serious right now?" Legend scowled. The top you wore was tight around your chest and the cloak that clasped at the front billowed around you ever so slightly from the wind at the front of the cave. There were thin layers of furs under your linen over shirts that matched the fur lining your boots outlining your figure and silhouette in a way he found irritating.

The light that barely peaked through the clouds lit up your form gave you a halo of light over your head and made you look more of a hero than he ever would have pictured you.

It didn't sit well with him.

"That doesn't nearly look warm enough. If you plan on going out in that then you'll freeze within the first ten minutes." He crossed his arms and stared you down, willing you to disagree, to challenge him, keep you here longer so one of the others can pick up the lack and go instead.

"It's bear fur Legend." You reply instead with an easy grin your face. He elected to ignore it because he was trying to stay mad and irritated at the lack of care you seemed to have for your own safety. Why weren't the others backing him up?! Wouldn't Twilight have said something by now?! Or Time?!

Why was it just him?

How dare you smile like that? And at him no less! He's trying to make a point, darn it! It's hard to concentrate when you look so... innocent and bright and happy and-

Focus Link.

"I actually have four layers on as well." You continue and peel back what you can to show him what your clothing looks like. Unknowingly giving him a great look at your figure beneath said layers. "Two layers of wool and two of fur and I still have my clothes under here as well. Without enchantments like Wild, it's probably the warmest thing here. I'll be alright."

He can't bring himself to believe it.

He grits his teeth and continues to look at you, not bothering to spare a glance at Wild or Twilight when they eventually join your side, both now ready to head out.

"Honestly Legend. I know it doesn't look like much but I grew up around snow and ice and mountainous storms. If anyone knows what they're doing here, it's me."

He knows this. You told him. He knows that he knows this.

Why can't he believe it?

His hand forms a fist with a tight grip and he gets an idea.

Before he can fully think it through, he's marching up to you and snatches up your hand before you can protest.

You haven't put on your gloves yet so it's skin on skin.

He can't think much of it or he'll lose his nerve and he's already gone too far to go back now or he'll only be making a fool of himself.

Legend all but rips the most powerful ring he has on his person and shoves it onto your own. It's a protection ring, it'll shield you if anything tries to hurt you.

He's not entirely sure why he cares so much, just that he does, and this is all he can do if no one is going to back him up and stop you from going.

"I want this back." He says. He knows it sounds meaner than he's intending but then you let him put it on, take your hand back and marvel at it for a moment.

"I'll protect this with my life." You flex your hand, testing out how it feels and wonder what magic it must posses for Legend to not only give it up but deem it worth for the storm outside.

"Thanks Vet." You grin brighter and Legend finds himself floundering for a moment at the intensity of it.

The tips of his turn red, he knows this and he forces himself to distance himself or else the others would notice.

Your trio disappears into the white and he sits down by the fire made for the smaller ones of the group. He hasn't made eye contact with anyone since you left and he makes the mistake of trying to casually play it off by looking up.

Time is watching him with a knowing smile on his face.

"What?" Legend barks and scowls at the attention.

The older man just laughs a bit to himself and shakes his head but he doesn't say anything.

Legend thinks back on his actions a little sooner than he thinks he should and glances at his hand. The hand that grabbed yours.

Despite the journey, your hands were so soft.

He can't help but smile.

Time

Time was watching the over the group for the morning shift, his hand over his sword and his eyes watching... well you.

You intrigued Time.

Out all the heroes of courage on this journey, you weren't one of them. You weren't a Link and yet you seemed to fill a gap the group didn't know it had.

He couldn't figure out why or how but he found himself wanting to know what made you tick, why did you work so well with the others, what your world was like, and how did it mold you to be so....

He had trouble finding a word for it.

As the boys rough housed and played around, he found himself relaxing. It was a quiet morning and he had the added support of Wolfie on look out for any monsters.

He put his sword down and and walked over to where you were.

You were sitting with a book in your lap, something he found you doing often. But this time you were ignoring the book, laughing at Wind's and Wild's antics as they blasted each other with their Deku leaves. Wind continuously knocked the Champion around but neither of them seemed to mind.

If anything, it appeared the were doing on purpose and were trying to see how far he'd go.

Boys.

He could feel the smile on his face as he made his way toward you.

"Enjoying the theatrics?" He spoke up.

You jumped with a small yelp, something he found endlessly entertaining.

"You're the biggest guy here! How are you so quiet?!" You yelled in his face with a pointed finger and hand on your chest.

Time chuckles and sits down next to you, sitting just close enough for your knees to brush. "Sorry. It's not always intentional, I promise."

"So you admit you do it on purpose!!" You turn to face him fully. Book absolutely forgotten.

Time finds himself pleased by the change.

"Occasionally." He grinned.

"Oh, and I so happen to be your favorite victim then?" You crossed you arms and leaned closer to him. Your words were biting but the smile on your face was teasing and the glint in your eye was knowing.

"Of course."

"You're impossible." You shove him away. "You're only like this because no one will ever suspect you."

"Is that so- LOOK OUT!" Time had noticed a second too late but in the seconds Time stopped paying attention to them, Wind and Wild had stopped launching each other and started launching objects.

Such objects like coconuts and hard wooden barrels.

Like the ones heading in your direction.

With no time to act, he grabs you and rolled out of the way, pressing you into his chest. The huddling objects bounced off of your spot, some exploding on impact while the rest crashed into the nearby trees and bushes.

It looked like a war zone.

Time held onto you for a second after the damage passed, waiting for any else to come your way. When nothing appeared, he began to let you go, looking down on you to see your reactions. "You ok?"

You had curled yourself into his chest, continuing to press yourself close to him even after he let go.

Time finds himself pleased by this as well.

"Well..." You took a deep breath and slowly looked up and around. "That was exciting."

"Are you hurt?" He asked again. You looked fine, if only a little shaken, but he wanted to hear you say it.

"I think my leg got scratched in the chaos."

Time forces himself to stay calm and to not show any reaction. A scratch is better than getting hit head on. You'll be fine.

"What about you?" You look up to him again, eyes wide and bigger than he remembers and they were such a lovely color-

"I'm more concerned about you." He says, cutting his own thought process off. Time proceeds to get up, being as gentle as he can with you still in his arms. "I did just happen to grab you."

"Well, I'm sure it would have been worse if you hadn't." You grin at him and push yourself away.

Time now finds that he misses the feeling of you there but isn't able to focus on why when the two culprits are running up to you at break neck speeds.

"Are you two ok?!" Wind reaches you first.

"We're so sorry, we miscalculated the angle and it went wildly off our target." Wild continues and helps you to your feet.

Wind hovers near Time, unsure of what to do or how to help.

Time looks over to where you are, breathless but smiling dazzlingly. "We're ok." You tell Wild. "Just thrown around is all, we're fine."

Time sighs and stands up, putting his serious face on. "You boys better have a good explanation for this."

They could have hurt someone. They almost hurt you. His only consolation is how they squirm under his gaze.

Good.

Wind

"What the hell? What the hell? What the hell? What is this place?!"

Wind looked over his shoulder from the fight over to where you were, the monster he was fighting falling before him. It was a great thing in his eyes to no longer be the youngest of the group. Not only for there to be someone of his age to talk to but also get the group off of his back for some of their more dramatic attempts at keeping him safe.

Wind was having a blast.

Everyone had found a dungeon in the sense that they fell into it against their knowledge and will and had happened to land with partners.

He hopes so anyway.

But on his end, he's with you!

And he's loving it!

You've never judged him and you've always thought that his stories were great and this was a great opportunity to show you how cool he is in a fight without the others trying to stop him from doing all his cool stuff.

And as an added bonus, he loves spending time with you!

Wind was close to wishing on stars for more time to spend alone with you. The others were always around and always in his business. How lucky that it seems he got his wish without doing that little kid stuff, like star wishing.

He didn't take into account that this might be your first dungeon though.

...Guess you didn't have those in your world...

But that's fine! He'll just walk you through it. They're easy once you get a groove going, and as dungeons go, this one is old hat for him.

The enemies around you fall within minutes and you're a little more shaken up than he likes.

"You ok?" He puts his sword on his back and walks toward you. You're staring at the fallen enemy in front of you with your own sword still raised. There's a slight cut on your arm, a red line going across and down, but Wind is almost certain that the cut is across...the blood is just going down your arm.

Wind takes a moment to quiet the sudden and unexpected rage. The monsters are lucky, he thinks, that they're already dead.

He grips his wrist tightly at the sight and places his other hand on your own. You gulp slightly and look at him tearfully. "Wind, where are we?"

You're scared, he realizes.

Scared, and alone and you don't know what kind of place this is.

There's another cut just above your eye and there more blood going down your face.

Wind feels himself fill with determination. He has the experience you lack to make it through here. He has been in more fights than you have. He knows what he's doing.

He's going to make sure you get out of here without being afraid anymore.

"Come on." Wind lets himself go and places his hand on top of yours, gently pushing the sword down and make a small effort to lace your fingers together. His other hand grips his sleeve and he begins to swipe it across your face, trying to clean the blood the best he can. "We're going to find the others, ok? We just have to keep going and if we're lucky we'll find a map, maybe a compass and it'll help us get out of here. We'll be back with the others in no time!"

You gulp and nod, tightening your grip on his hand and let him lead you through the unknown. Your voice is quiet and soft and Wind finds that he wants to hear it more often like this...just not laced with fear. "Ok. I trust you."

Wind nearly preens at your words, a large smile overtaking his face.

He'll protect you and you won't have to be afraid, not while he's here.

"Just leave it to me. I got this."

Warrior

"Whatup, Captain?" Warrior feels a weight be thrown on his shoulder at the call of the voice.

He looks to the side where it is and throws an easy smile on his face.

It's you! And you're grinning fabulously in his direction.

"Nothing in particular. Just checking our supplies, we might need to make a supply run in the nearest town for potions if we're lucky enough to find one but..." He looks at the bag in front of him with slight distain.

Truthfully, the group is low on a lot of stuff. Food, medical and magic supplies, someone is going to have to buy the Veteran more sewing supplies as well with how much battery all your clothes have taken on.

It would have to be a big buy....

A small town probably won't have half the stuff they need. And he doesn't know what kind of budget he's working with either.

But he's dealt with worse with less.

The group will hold on for a little longer if nothing drastic happens.

But Warrior doesn't want you to know that. If he had things his way, he'd let you think that everything was ok. That everything was fine and under control.

He's used to having to keep dire news from the troops so that they can keep fighting the good fight.

Lying to you though feel wrong. Dirty.

He finds your complete trust in him endearing and your willingness to help him with any and all loads on his shoulders means more to him than he'd ever be willing to tell you to your face.

You brighten and throw a thumb in the direction behind you. "We're in luck then. There's a town, that-a way according to Wild's weird telescope from his slate. I was planning to go check it out regardless but was in need of a partner. Wild can't because Twilight benched him after last fights stunt. Maybe we can kill two birds with one stone?"

That idea sounds fantastic.

"I'd love to." He says easily. "Got anything to do before we head out?"

"Nope. Ready to leave immediately." You get off of him and he follows after you without missing a beat, quickly falling into sync with your steps. It's a habit he has trouble breaking, but if he can focus on matching your stride instead, he can stay by your side for the walk.

"We're getting supplies from the town. Be back soon!" He calls out to Time and the group as you walk by.

Time raises his hand in acknowledgement and goes back to pinning Wild down with his stare alone. Warrior doesn't feel sorry for him.

With that taken care of, you both pick up your speed and quickly leave the range of your little camp. Jokes are traded easily between you two and Warrior finds himself relaxing.

It's a strange feeling but one he knows that he can share with you.

You put him at ease and there's something about you that calls for his attention.

Maybe it's your attitude. Maybe it's your determination. Maybe it's the way you fight and the grace you carry yourself with.

You're a good fighter, a good team mate, and a good person.

You take care of the others. You take care of him.

He doesn't know how to thank you.

Warrior notices that you both reach the town in record time, the conversation seeming making time a useless way measure distance.

You both walk in and begin with Warrior's shopping list since it has a higher priority than simply exploring.

Warrior makes a promise to himself to find something for you.

A small gift, if you will.

He's not entirely sure what you like just yet but he thinks you deserve something nice and if he's here to buy nice things, then why shouldn't you get something as well.

The trouble is getting it without you seeing him buy it, or figure out his plan.

You were always able to read him like a book.

"Lookin' good sweetheart!" A voice calls from the side. A loud and obnoxious voice followed quickly by multiple cheers and whistles.

Warrior instantly has a spike in irritation and he forces himself to not shout back. He's used to this. It happens sometimes back home. He's not surprised it can carry elsewhere. There's pigs everywhere.

He ignores them.

"Why don't you leave your boy toy and come find out how a real man can treat you darlin'?!" Another one comments. More cheers and howls.

Boy toy?

That's new.

Warrior looks in their direction and comes to a startling discovery.

They're not looking at him. THEY'RE LOOKING AT YOU.

Now... Warrior likes to think he's a rational man. He's good at keeping his head on straight in tough situations. He's good under peer pressure and under stress.

He takes one look at you and sees your smile gone, your head is down and your face is red in shame, anger and embarrassment.

But you don't say anything in reply and only shuffle closer to him, trying to get in front of him so he'll shield you from their gaze.

Warrior is a rational man.

Many would agree with that.

He wants to tear their heads off.

"Come on baby, don't be that way! As easy as your back is to watch, we want to get a good look at your pretty little face!"

Warrior turns suddenly and faces them all head on. "Thank you for the compliment doll face! I'm new in town and just passing through but maybe-"

He starts walking towards them as sultry as he can manage, pulling on every acting cell he has in his body.

Which is a lot if you ask him.

The tactic works as he wants it to. Warrior knows he wasn't their target and the idea of him responding instead throws them off their rhythm.

"No, no, wait-" One of them holds a hand up and takes a step back. "Not you."

"Who else darlin'?" He mimics their drawl and smirks at their instant discomfort. "You want a good time?"

"I'm leaving." One of them says after a second of horror shows on his face and not so subtlety turns on his heel and leaves. The third follows without saying anything and it just leaves Warrior and the first caller.

Warrior likes these odds.

He drops the act and lets his murderous intent shine on his face. "Got anything else to say?"

Warrior reaches for his sword and the idea finally gets through the guy's head. Leave us alone or else.

"...No." He says and finally leaves as well, not looking back at either of you.

Warrior nods at his retreating form and returns to you, a little ashamed by how long it took him to react. For your sake.

His head is low when he reaches you and he scratches the back of his neck instead of making eye contact.

"Um... What do you want to do now?" He asks lamely. By Hylia, he wants to kick himself into oblivion.

A small snort catches his attention and he snaps his head up.

You're looking at him, hand over your mouth and crinkled eyes giving away your not so hidden smile. Your shoulders are shaking and it only grows as he stares at you.

You're not mad? He has trouble believing it because he's still furious.

A small bark of laughter escapes without your consent and it's the last wall to break as the dam flows out. You're laughing hysterically and it's beginning to scare him a little.

"D-Did you see their faces?!" You nearly scream. "Oh my god, Warrior, I love you. That was amazing."

Warrior shakes off the shock and feels himself blush. "It wasn't that special..."

"Wasn't that-? Oh boy, I wish Wild was here. I would have loved to get a picture! Warrior that was awesome. I'm so glad that you agreed to come with me." You walk beside him and grab his hand, beginning to drag him through the town. "You know what? I owe you. I have some rupees and we're not expected to come back to camp yet. You want something? I'll get it for you. My treat. Anything you want."

Warrior begins to flounder, and he's uselessly dragged behind you while your grin grows with every second that you talk.

While this all happens and you talk about the ways you plan to treat him, Warrior starts to think that he might just do anything for you.

Hyrule

Hyrule was busy enjoying the scenery of their most recent trip. He had managed to sneak away from the group and walk around the area without having to worry about the others for a moment.

The quiet was nice and familiar. The place was new and begging for him to explore what it had to offer.

Hyrule... found himself wishing for companionship, weirdly.

Well, as long as his travel companion is you.

He supposed Wild would have been just the same....but he found himself wanting to be with you instead.

He just... he doesn't know why. It doesn't bother him.

There's just.... He has trouble finding the words.

You're warm and gentle and it reminds him of casting his Life spell on himself before he met the others. There's a sense of safety, of calm.

A cool breeze on a warm summer's day.

A smile creeps on his face at the thought of you. Hyrule knows that he does it often but he still can't bring himself to care about it.

"Oh my- NO! HEY!" He hears your voice. Panicked, frantic and shrill.

And it gets cut off.

It's a bucket of ice water dumped over him. His heart launches into his throat and his stomach drops to his feet. His feet are moving in the direction towards you before he even realizes it.

Hyrule has reached a full on sprint and has to continue to run when he fails to find you. He takes a moment to be grateful for his stamina and how he's used to running but you're not.

At least he doesn't think so.

But he hopes this isn't where he finds out.

He trips over something. A sharp pain cuts across his shin as he falls to the ground, palms barely sustaining damaged thanks to his armor.

Hyrule gets up and sees something even worse than what he thought.

It's your sword.

You don't have your sword.

You're unarmed and alone.

Hyrule picks himself up and your sword and continues running at an even quicker pace.

He reaches you eventually and feels unadulterated rage flood through his system.

There's a pig monster over you, cheering and dancing in victory. There's only one. He thinks it's one of Wild's bokoblins but he calls on his magic and sends his sword straight through the monsters beating heart.

There's no black blood as it falls.

He sprints even more in your direction and begins to cradle your head, gently checking for blood any injuries.

He lets the healing spell move through his fingers to catch whatever he might be missing, whatever he can't see or get to without hurting you further.

He can feel what areas need the attention the most and can almost reconstruct the attack.

There's a large bump on your head, most likely the hit that knocked you unconscious.

Your arm is scratched and multiple pieces of skin have been torn off but it's a graze more than anything, it's not bleeding and doesn't goa any deeper than that.

Probably the hit that knocked your sword out of your hand.

There's a bruise blossoming on your knee and on your stomach and he has trouble figuring out what came first. They could have come from your fall or the beast could have simply hit you again.

The magic works its way through your system and subsequently heals him as well from his own minor injuries.

There's no way you can wake up fast enough and it leaves his heart pounding in his chest.

Hyrule knows when there's nothing left to heal and has to force himself to stop before he overexerts himself. The uncertainty is killing him. Just when he was hoping to spend time with you alone, this happens.

You groan and begin to sit up, your hand going to your head before realizing that it doesn't hurt and that you're not alone.

"Hyrule...Hey." Your voice is soft and a smile overtakes your face. You looks around and sit up straighter when you catch the dead body of the monster not two feet from you. "Guess that's your doing?"

Hyrule nods and moves to give you space, reaching his hand out for you to take. "How are you?"

"Good, all things considered...." You shrug and pick up your sword. Hyrule didn't even notice that he dropped it. "I was looking for you."

A mix of emotions fills his heart. Guilt at being the cause of it. Relief that at least you're together again. Happiness, strangely, at the thought of you thinking about him.

"Well I'm not lost, just..." He nervously looks up to you, his hand coming to scratch the back of his neck. "Got left behind."

"We noticed." Your smile fills with mirth and it's borderline a smirk.

Hyrule is not prepared by the realization that he finds that incredibly attractive.

"Thanks for coming to my rescue." You say, wrapping your arm with his. "The rest of the group is over here by the way."

"Yeah... Yeah ok." He grins and tightens his grip around your arm. "Let's meet up with our friends."

Yeah....friends...That's just what friends do.

Why does he feel weird about it?

Twilight

"On a scale of one to ten, how hard is it to learn how to ride a horse?"

Twilight looked around Epona's form, pausing his motion in brushing her to see you leaning up against her, a hand on her neck and brushing ever so slightly.

"Some people are more natural than others I suppose..." Twilight responded, an idea forming in his mind. "But it's not difficult."

You nodded in response and continued to pet the best girl around.

"I can show you how... If you want that is." Twilight grins to himself, leaning closer to Epona so you don't notice. The thought makes him giddy in a childlike way and he doesn't want you to be put off by his overexcitement.

You snap your head in his direction, a bright and excited smile on your face. "Really? I've always wanted to learn but I didn't want to impose."

Oh.

Out of everyone who could easily show you how to ride a horse, you came to him.

Well... doesn't that do something to his heart.

I mean, he is the only one with the horse but -DETAILS!!

He doesn't care for them.

"Here. Get on." He walks around and holds the reins, gesturing for you to get on Epona's back.

"Right now?" You're surprised, but delighted.

Twilight thinks it a good look on you.

"Sure. We're not going anywhere just yet and Epona can use a walk to stretch her legs." He says and helps you get up. Twilight is quick to follow after you and sit behind you, your back pressed up upon his chest.

"Ok, here's what you're going to do." He gives you the reins and places his hands over yours, leading you and Epona to where he thinks is a good place to go for a small trot.

It's effortless for him to lead you both through the trail.

Your trio actually pass by the group who are resting for lunch and wave to them as you go. Twilight catches the smile Time has on his face and is quick to put together that he knows something he doesn't. He'll ask Time about it later.

Twilight talks to you about how to hold the reigns, how to kick the horse into gear, how to steer and anything that he can think of that means safety for both you and the animal.

"Hey Twilight-" You mention suddenly and point just beyond the distance. "-Should we be concerned about that?"

Monsters, also on horses.

An arrow wizzes by suddenly, imbedding itself in Epona's side.

Shocked by the pain and scared by the suddenness of it, Epona takes off in a sudden sprint. Encouraged by the reaction, the monsters give chase.

Twilight notices that they don't have as much control over their chosen transportation.

He has the advantage.

Epona's first instinct is to run back to the group, back to the numbers and safety. Twilight knows better though, he can't lead the monsters to the group, even if he has a sizeable lead on them. He quickly turns her away, a plan forming in his mind.

You don't have weapons or back up, so this is going to get interesting.

"TWILIGHT!" You scream and throw yourself against him, covering your eyes with one and and gripping him tightly with the other. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

"Trust me!" He yells over the rushing wind. "I think I have a plan!"

"YOU THINK? You're crazy!" You reply, directly into his ear. "But I trust you... so I guess I am too!"

"That's the spirit!" He grins. Twilight knows Epona won't be able to do much more without injuring herself further and he doesn't want to make any reckless decisions with you right next to him.

He'd hate for you to no longer want to ride a horse over this bad experience.

"Hang on tight!" He finds himself yelling, adrenaline in his veins and he pushes Epona to go a little bit faster.

There's a cliff nearby, a ledge that if he can Epona to go fast enough, she can jump it.

The monsters may try to follow but Twilight is riding heavily on their lack on control and the horses will to stay safe.

Epona reaches it and jumps.

There's a moment of weightlessness and Twilight's heart floats up to his throat. You gasp, and fling yourself around to press your face into the crook of his neck.

Twilight takes one arm off of the reigns and wraps it around you, pressing you tightly into his chest.

Epona makes the jump, landing on the other side with a little more turbulence than Twilight is used to, but he'll blame her shot.

He slows her down and looks to the other side of the ledge.

The monsters do in fact try to follow but Twilight's gamble and intuition pays off. The horses stop just by the edge and several monsters fly off of their backs and down below. The other monsters who can't get by, stop in anger and scream from the other side.

But it appears they lost their archer to the abyss.

So you're safe.

"Oh my goodness..." You gulp and remove yourself from him. "Holy cow... You did it. You mad lad, you did it."

Twilight chuckles nervously and begins to lead Epona back to the camp, gentler and a little more aware now of how she's moving, how much she's been hurt.

"Is Epona ok?" You try to look around him and spot the injury, but there's not a lot of space on the saddle to manage that. He does it for you and sees that it's mostly blocked by the saddle itself, the arrow imbedded deep into the side, just missing the both of you.

Epona most likely only has a scratch and was more startled if anything.

Twilight's not happy about his girl getting hurt but knows that she's taken worse hits. He'll tend to her later, he's worried about you too.

"You ok?"

"Yeah, but Epona?" You insist.

"She's fine. It mostly hit the equipment. They were terrible shots." Twilight grins easily, taking the lead in steering Epona and leans into your back.

You laugh breathlessly and turn your head directly into his. It gives him a great view of your eyes and how they seem to glow in the light. He finds himself entranced and almost misses what you say completely.

"You're incredible, you know that?"

He nearly preens and he pulls himself back. "You think so?"

"Incredibly reckless." You snort. "You've lost your privileges' for yelling at Wild. You're just as bad as him."

"I-..." Twilight starts but can't finish.

"But hey, at least we're ok." You lean back and make yourself comfortable against him. "That could have been worse."

Twilight doesn't move a muscle while you're there, if you're comfy against him, then he'll keep you comfy. "Yeah. Sorry about freaking you out back there."

You go quiet for a moment and he wonders if he's ruined something. Twilight doesn't know if there's something to ruin actually, and he doesn't understand the thought now that he's had it. He doubts you'll stop being friends because of this, so that's not at threat. Monster attacks are not something new. But...

He wants to do this with you, for you.

He doesn't like the idea of you turning him down.

"I don't know..." You say eventually. "Maybe you can make it up to me by continuing these horse riding lessons. Maybe I'll forgive you then."

Twilight doesn't look at your face, he doesn't turn to look at you. He's afraid he'll give too much away on his face if he does.

"If you're still up for it?" It's question. It wasn't supposed to be a question.

You nod and fully relax, your heartbeat gently beating against his own. "Maybe less monsters next time?"

"Agreed." Twilight grins. "Not until after you learn to go out on your own."

"How about... No."

Wild

"Wild. I. Have a question." Wild looks up to your approaching form, tensing up in anticipation.

"Yeah, what's up?" He tries to grin naturally. Wild feels his heart start to beat faster and his face heat up. He gets nervous around you even if he wants to be by your side, but he doesn't know why.

He knows you're friendly and sweet and nice and incredibly smart and there should be no reason that you do this to him and yet he wants to impress you so bad....

But he doesn't know how.

"Your slate has that crazy inventory right? So you carry a whole bunch of stuff on you at all times?" You try to stand tall but you dip your head and thread your fingers through your hair.

You're nervous.

Now you really have his attention.

"Yeah. I might have enough stuff to rival the Veteran and he's known as the Collector as well." Wild sits back and tilts his head at you. "What's up?"

"I..." You start and bite your lip. Wild's eyes land on it and he focuses there for longer than he thinks is appropriate. "I just wanted to ask if I could borrow a sword if you had extra... Mine's about to break and I don't want Smithy on my case about it, since I don't have what I need to fix it. But....um...You know what, nevermind. It's not a big deal, I'll manage, I'll-"

"No! It's fine!" He shoots up to his feet and grabs your hand to keep you from leaving. "Got anything in mind? I've got claymores and short swords, elemental weapons and sheikah blades. I've got some cool boomerangs or clubs from monsters if you want those."

While he's talking, he brings up his slate and begins sliding through the pages and icons, bringing it up to your faces so you can get a better look at what he had to offer. He's quick to point out what weapon can do what and how he has one story for each of them.

He takes a look over to your face and is overjoyed when he sees that you're looking through the screen with as much fervor and excitement as he did when he first came into contact with his world's weapons.

"..." He sees your eyes lock on one of them and voice comes out in a giddy giggle. "This one."

"Which one?" He leans over and places a hand on your shoulder. You let him, or you don't notice but the fact that you don't shove him away makes in happy in a way.

You point to it and he has a brief moment of panic when he sees the one you want. It's one of Robby's creations, a sheikah chainsaw so to speak. It's one of the biggest weapons he has.

"OK." He gulps and takes it out. He presses the activation button and watches your face when it lights up the blade.

A large grin over takes your face when you see it and stare at it for a moment. The light is bright in your eyes and you let out a giggle that's borderline hysterical.

"This is awesome!" You make grabby hands at it and he hesitates to give it to you.

He likes that you like it....but he's suddenly not all to convinced that he should. Wild knows that he's reckless and that he gets hurt a little more than anyone appreciates but... What if you get hurt? With his weapon, no less?

The thoughts scares him a little more than he'll admit.

Maybe you should have that one.... Maybe a more... normal weapon would have been better?

You step away and give it a few experimental swings and his heart launches into his throat.

"Ho-ok!" Wild frantically opens his slate again and takes out a another weapon, a normal iron sword. "Take this one as well actually."

"One is enough Wild. Thank you but-"

"We don't want the others to get jealous, now do we?" He lies. "This way it'll be easier to explain...so maybe save that one for emergencies?"

"Alright." You press the button and stash the weapon away, taking the other sword from his hand. Your fingers brush and he tries to not jerk his hand back and make it awkward.

"For the others sake." You grin, and there's a glint in your eyes that makes him think that you're on to him.

But you don't mention it.

He won't plan to mention it either.

He'll gladly share anything else with you though. You just have to ask.

Four

"RUN! WE HAVE TO RUN!"

Four's head snaps up and he doesn't have the time to register why before you run past him and grab his hand, dragging him behind you.

"WHAT?!" Four yells next to you and matches his stride to your easily. "WHY ARE WE RUNNING?!"

"THEY'RE AFTER ME!" You cry and continue running, taking a sharp turn. "NO TIME TO EXPLAIN!"

Four isn't prepared for the level of rage and concern for your behalf as he begin to reach for his sword and turns around to fight whatever has you in a panic.

"Don't!" You pull his hand harder and nearly throw him off of his feet. "It's not worth it. Just run, maybe we can find a place to hide."

"What's after you?" He asks instead. How bad did it have to be that you didn't even want to fight back? Was it monsters? Did they have numbers on their side? Was it the weapons they had? Were they infected?

He'd gladly fight them for you.

But if it's bad... it's bad and he knows that infected monsters take more effort then they should and they're not something he can do alone.

"Here!" A smile appears on your face and with another sharp turn to press him close to your body and squeeze into a small space. There's no space between you two, it's chest to chest, completely up against each other and Four suddenly has a hard time concentrating.

Four says your name in an attempt to distract himself from your body and eyes the hand you press against his mouth in response.

"Shh..." You look outside the hidey hole and snap back in.

Familiar voices ring with mirth and exhaustion but they are not dangerous. Four finds it in himself to be a little miffed at there not actually being any danger but he keeps quiet at your request.

"Where do you think they went?" Wind has a grin in his voice.

"I don't know. I think they actually lost us." Wild replies in kind. "But they can't be far. It's not like they can out run us."

"You take the right and I'll take the left?" Wind offers and Four has to wonder what they want with you.

You keep your hand over his mouth for a moment longer before slowly retreating.

Four gulps and takes a breath. He's immediately assaulted by how you smell. It's weirdly not just sweat, but apple blossoms and some kind of herb that he's having trouble pin pointing.

It's intoxicating and despite the lack of personal space, Four thinks that this is the most comfortable place he's been in a while.

"Ok. I think they're gone." You turn and begin to shimmy out of the hole. "Sorry about that. They want me to do something dumb with... an item of mine and I don't have the heart to tell them no. So I ran... Which didn't really work because they followed."

Four follows out of the hole and brushes the front of him off. He places his hands on his hips and fixes you with a stare.

"And then I ran into you and I didn't want to explain everything but you're a good guy and you'd just tell them where I went because you wouldn't know and I didn't want to risk leaving you behind-"

A good guy?

"So you kidnapped me?" Four raises an eyebrow. "That was your solution?"

"Well... How else do I get your attention?" You mimic his position and look him in the eye.

Four's about to retort with something that you could do before he stops himself. It's... not something one would just say to a friend. But he finds the idea very appealing for a moment before being disgusted with himself for thinking that about you.

He rolls his eyes to change the conversation outwardly but he continues thinking about it. "There are easier ways to get my attention. One of them, for example, say my name."

"Hard to do, if all of you have the same name." You grin.

He smiles back.

Truthfully, now that he's thinking about it, a lot things that you do catch his attention.

The way you move your hands when you talk. The way you move when you fight. The sound of your laugh. The color of your hair and your eyes.

"Um..." You laugh nervously and scratch the back of your neck. "Would you mind staying with me for a moment longer? I uh- Don't know the way back and I don't want to risk running into either of them just yet But.. I did kidnap you, so if you have something better to do-."

Oh yeah, he'll stay with for for longer. He doesn't mind one bit.

Sky

Sky yawns and rubs at his eyes for a moment before turning his gaze back into the fire.

It's early.... like, stupid early. He hates getting up before the sun and would have gladly stayed in his bedroll... but it's his shift.

Admittedly, he doesn't mind being on watch.

But it's the whole concept of being up before the very time keeper in the sky that miffs him. His body wants to fight it and he typically has to put his whole bed roll away when it's his turn or else he'll be tempted to go back to it and sleep the rest of the night time away.

The only bonus, he supposes, is the chance to watch the sunrise.

It's so different on the surface than on Skyloft, there's more colors and it's not as blinding. He can't to experience more when he reaches his own time again.

The other bonus, he supposes, now that he's thinking about it, if the chance to watch over his new friends and that includes you.

You... Are just as mesmerizing as the sunrise, he thinks.

There's something about you that he finds completely captivating. Your endless colors and arrays of simplistic beauty keep his attention in ways he wouldn't have thought possible. Bringing peace and tranquility to the group when they need and being a signal to start the next leg of the adventure.

And yet, he can admit that it's nothing extraordinary.

You're not trying to impress anyone. It comes naturally to you.

Like the sunrise.

Sky smiles to himself and....he's mature to admit that he's glad he met you, and he think he'll miss you the most when this is all over.

When Sky comes back to the present instead of being trapped in his own head, he realizes that he's been staring at you for a while.

You're still sleeping.

He takes a breath. That wouldn't have been awkward. He prides himself on not being a creep, thank you very much.

You turn in your sleep and a sound escapes you.

Sky sits up a little straighter and watches you again. He knows that everyone has their fair share of demon to fight even when they're asleep. It wouldn't be all that surprising to learn that you had your own battles beyond daytime.

You move again, lifting your arm to fight whatever your brain says is in front of you and a gasp comes through.

Sky shoots up again begins to make his way over to you. He's careful not to wake the others but if he kicks Wind's on the way over, he won't mention it... It's not like that woke him up anyway.

When he finally reaches your side, you're shaking and moving side to side without knowledge of what is happening outside your own mind.

Sky nearly growls and kneels next to you.

"I wish I can fight those things for you..." He says out loud as he begins to gently shake your shoulder. "How dare they still plague you. They're not even here. Who gave them the right?"

You give out a small scream, something in your mind terrorizing you and it prompts Sky to shake you by both your shoulders until you wake up.

Your eyes shoot open with a gasp. You're covered in a cold sweat and breathing heavily. It takes you a while to realize where you are and who's in front of you but in the meantime you try fighting Sky off, still not fully aware that you're awake.

"Hey, hey, it's me." Sky takes a step back in hopes of calming you, even if it's the last thing he wants to actually do. "You're safe now. It's ok."

You finally stop and look at him, staring for a moment until he can see the moment when you see him. "...Oh..."

"You ok?" Sky takes the step forward. "That seemed rough."

"I... Um..."

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." He takes another step forward and places his hands on your shoulders. You're still shacking but instead of answering him you launch yourself into his arms.

Sky doesn't hesitate to hold you and lets you cry into his shoulder for as long as you need. He makes a vow to himself right then and there.

He's going to do his best to protect you... and the others. So that even if things get hard, maybe you'll have less nightmares to deal with.

If you'll let him, that is.

For now, he's going to hold you and be there for you when you need him.

It's... really all he can do.

#linked universe #linked universe x reader #linkeduniverse #IT'S DONE!!#I'm not so proud of Sky's and Wild's but feedback is always welcome #Hopefully the mess of posting it unfinished is the first and last time I do that #Will it happen again?#most likely but ehh...

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marauderundercover · 3 years ago

Text

Late Night Trips (Day 3: Bats)

This is a continuation of Day 2. Read it here

Marinette walks around the Halloween section of the store, giggling into her phone.

“I don’t know why you’re so against it!” She teases, adding a bag of bat window clings to her little basket, despite Jason’s grumbling on the other end of the phone.

“Because the vigilantes are known as the Bats, M. Just feels weird for our windows to be covered in tiny bats.” He grumbles, and she snorts, glad that he can’t see the way her face reddens when he refers to the windows as theirs. Sure, he hadn’t officially moved in, but he stayed at her place more than the manor lately. She loved it.

“Okay, Jay, if it really upsets you that much, I won’t get them.” She promises, taking the bats back out of her basket. She really did think they were cute though, but she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

“We could get ghosts or pumpkins instead.” Jason suggests and she grins, switching the bats out with the ghosts.

“Hmmm, the ghosts have top hats, so I’m definitely sticking with those.” She says. There’s silence on the other end of the line. “Jay?”

“Marinette, are you at the store right now?” He asks, and she can hear the concern in his voice.

“Yeah, but I’m at the little one down the street. I’ll be fine, Jason.” She reassured him. She loved him, she did, but he got way too paranoid about her going out at night sometimes. Sure that was when more Rogues and criminals were active, but she could take care of herself. Which she clearly showed him last weekend when she punched that stupid Scarecrow in the face.

“I- please, M. Just, please be careful.” He says, not lecturing her like he’d half expected.

“I will be, promise. See you when you get home.” She says. He worked nights most of the time, but she was still able to see him since she kind of made her own hours when she was working on commissions. Or, she just stayed up all day and night. It was honestly a coin toss.

“I love you.” He says, and her smile widens.

“Love you too.” She says, hanging up and heading to the registers. She quickly checks out and leaves, pulling her jacket closer as she steps out into the cold night. That was the only thing she didn’t love about Gotham. The cold. Once the sun was down, it was like it was winter, no matter the time of year. Sighing, she continues her walk back to the apartment, careful to make sure she stays aware of her surroundings. Sure, she could fight off a mugger, but she didn’t necessarily want to. She just wanted to get home and half a nice cup of coffee. Or hot chocolate. Something warm. She hums under her breath, almost to the apartment, when the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Immediately, she tenses. She starts to move a little faster, grimacing as she hears the footsteps behind her quicken as well. Of course the streets are empty. She’s the only one stupid enough to actually be out this late. Crap. She yelps in surprise as the person- man, she realizes- that had been following her grabs her wrist and twists her around.

“Come on sweetheart, doncha wanna spend some time with me.” The man says, tugging her close and letting his reeking breath pour over her face. She grimaces.

“No thank you.” She says, trying to tug her wrist away from the man. His eyes narrow and his grip tightens, more than she’d been expecting. He turns them so that they’re just inside the alley instead of on the open street. Oh hell no.

“C’mon babe-” He starts before she cuts him off with a punch in the face. He groans in surprise and stumbles slightly, still not letting go of her wrist. “If that’s how ya wanna be.” He says, his eyes darkening. She huffs and drops her bags, bringing her knee up and kneeing him in just the right place. He doubles over and lets go of her wrist. Now having both hands, she’s able to grab him (he’s too busy groaning in pain) and ram his head into the wall. He crumples almost instantly and she lets out a huff. So maybe Jason was right and she shouldn’t go shopping so late at night. But he didn’t have to know about this, right?

“Are you alright ma’am?” A voice asks. She whirls around, her fists up in defense until she sees who it is. She sighs and relaxes her posture.

“Hello Nightwing. Um, yeah, yeah I’m fine.” She says, glancing at the man on the ground. “Though, I’d feel a bit better if you had something we could tie him up with.”

“Of course. Robin?” He says, and she blinks in surprise as a hero who couldn’t be older than fifteen steps out of the shadows. Obviously she’d done her research on the heroes, but she was still a little taken aback to see a teenager in costume again. She just nods at him in thanks as he pulls out...zip ties? And cuffs the man’s hands behind his back.

“You were quite efficient in taking the man down. We approached just as you got out of his grip.” Robin says, and she smiles awkwardly.

“Yeah, uh, there were villains in Paris when I was a kid so I had to learn some basic self defense.” She says, not telling them everything, but not exactly lying either.

“Still, you know it’s really dangerous to be out this late at night, right? Even for someone who took down Scarecrow as well as you did.” Nightwing says and she flinches back, frowning.

“Uh, sorry, that day is a little fuzzy. Were you there?” She asks. Sure, Red Robin could’ve just told the others, but the look on his face? How he said it? Makes it seem like he’d actually seen the fight.

“No, but we watched the body cam footage from Red Robin.” Nightwing says with a wide smile.

“Mon Dieu.” She mumbles, shaking her head. She could tell Jason that some of the Bats thought she was a good fighter, but then she’d have to admit what happened tonight. And she really didn’t want him to worry any more than he already does.

“We will assist you in getting home once the police arrive to pick up this cretin.” Robin says, and she puffs her cheeks out, trying to figure out a nice way to tell them ‘thanks but no thanks’. If they had to wait around for the police, there was a chance Jason would be home by the time they got there.

“I’m sure I can get home just fine by myself.” She reassures them, and Nightwing frowns.

“Probably, but it would be kinda rude of us to send you along after something like this and not make sure you made it home safe.” He says. She sighs.

“Look, is there any way you can follow from the roofs or something? If you guys escort me home and my boyfriend is there, I’m gonna have to look at him and tell him he’s right and I shouldn’t go to the store late at night and he’s gonna panic and freak out that I could’ve been hurt which is super sweet, but then he’s not gonna be overprotective for a week and that makes it hard on him because then he doesn’t concentrate at work and I know he thinks I don’t notice but every time I get hurt, he comes home from work hurt and I know it’s because he’s distracted and I hate seeing him hurt and-” She rambles, only stopping when Nightwing puts a hand over her mouth. Her eyes widen in surprise and she winces in apology.

“We’ll trail you, but you should still probably tell him.” He says softly, and she frowns, nodding. This was gonna suck.

---

Marinette waves at the roof of the building across the street before walking into the building and heading up to the apartment. She can hear the low hum of the tv, letting her know Jason is already home. She takes in a deep breath before unlocking the door and walking in.

“Hey M.” Jason calls from the couch, a smile on his face. She smiles back, silently noting that his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. He was either fighting with his dad again, or something went wrong at work. And now she was about to drop the whole ‘I took down a guy who tried to yank me into an alley’ thing on him. She sets her bags on the table and kicks her shoes off before walking over and sitting on the couch, instantly curling into his side. They sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes and she relaxes.

“You okay?” He asks softly, and she sighs, sitting up and looking at him, wringing her hands together.

“So, don’t freak out.” She says, and he frowns. “Um, you were right about the whole shopping at night in Gotham thing.” She says, thankful that he seems to understand immediately.

“Are you hurt?” He asks, eyes scanning her, pausing on her wrist. She frowns. Her wrist was definitely currently hidden by her sleeve, how did he know it was bruised? She sighs and pushes her sleeves up, grinning at him awkwardly.

“Just a little bruise.” She says, and he frowns.

“A little- Marinette, that bruise is all around your wrist. Are you sure it’s not broken?” He asks worriedly.

“I’m sure, I know what broken bones feel like. I’m a clutz, remember?” She teases, smiling softly at him. She breathes a sigh of relief when he wraps his arms around her and pulls her close. He shifts so that he’s practically laying on the couch, moving her so that she’s laying on top of him.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” He mumbles. She rolls her eyes, burying herself into his chest.

“I’m fine, Jay. I won’t go shopping so late next time. Besides, some of the Bats showed up.” She says, giggling at his scoff.

“As if those idiots did anything.” He snarks.

“I mean, Nightwing and Robin both commented on my fighting skills.” She teases, laughing as he reaches up and turns her face to look at him.

“M, Marinette, love of my life, what exactly did Robin say?” He asks and her face heats up at how easily he calls her the love of his life. Did he mean it?

“Uh, something about being efficient in taking the man down?” She says, finding it hard to think with how intense Jason’s stare was. He laughs, a wide smile on his face.

“Ya know, Robin is supposedly the least easily impressed. Apparently he can be a bit of a pain.” He says and she grins before laying back down.

“Well then, at least we know I can take care of myself.” She says, feeling him sigh. He doesn’t disagree though, just kisses the top of her head. Warm and safe, she slowly drifts off to sleep.

---

BONUS

Jason smirks as he walks into the Batcave the next night.

“So Demon Spawn, my girlfriend is an efficient fighter?” He asks. Damian scowls.

“Shut it, Todd. Just because I think she is an efficient fighter does not mean that I believe you are.” He says and Jason snorts. “Don’t laugh Todd, I truly believe that she could knock you on your ass.”

“Language, Little D.” Dick says, walking in with his suit on, but mask off. “He does have a point though. I think she could probably hold her own against any of us, even for a couple minutes.” Jason just grins widely. Oh yeah, his girlfriend was a badass.

***

Taglist: @maribat-october-rarepairs @stainedglassm @kittenmywaythrulife @laydeekrayzee @doll246 @queenz-z @deathssilentapproach-blog @literaryhiraeth @unoriginalmess

#maribat #maribat fanfiction #ao3fic #MaribatHalloween21 #jasonette #maribat jason todd #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat damian wayne #maribat dick grayson #maribat oneshot

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forever-rogue · 4 years ago

Text

Baby Steps (A Good Man)

A/N: Hello my sunshines! I’m back with another little installment of the AGM ‘verse with our favorite Javi and Dulzura! I love them so much and I’m glad y’all do too! I hope you guys enjoy! As always, comments and feedback are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged let me know! Xx

*can be read as a standalone or part of the ‘verse as a whole*

Pairing: Professor! Javi x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: language, pregnant!reader

A GOOD MAN ‘VERSE MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

JAVIER MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Mrs. Peña?” the sound of your name still surprised you, despite the fact that the students had been calling you for several months now. A grin worked its way onto your face as you looked at the young boy who was watching you with wide, eager eyes. Putting your pen down, you motioned for him to continue, “will you come outside and play with us?”

“You want me to hang out with you guys?” you almost laughed at the idea that any kid deemed you worthy of spending time with them, “I thought teachers were lame, Mikey?”

“Some of them, but not all of them! You’re pretty cool,” he smiled and displayed his toothy grin. How were you supposed to say no to him? You nodded and stood up, taking the hand he was holding out to you, “besides we’re playing kickball and we need one more person!!”

“I should have known you were just using me for my exceptional skills,” you pretended to be hurt as he pulled out of the building and into the playground, where the sun was shining brightly.

Normally, you’d have turned him down, opting to get some work done during the lunch period, but decided you might as well indulge him and yourself. You really enjoyed the kids you had this year, and it was a gorgeous early spring day.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Turns out, kickball with a bunch of seven and eight year olds was not as simple as it seemed. They seemed to come up with all sorts of nonsense rules, and on top of it all, they happened to be extremely competitive. And yet...you were thoroughly enjoying yourself - and glad you had opted to wear jeans today instead of a skirt or dress. Javi had been particularly fond of the tight, high-waisted jeans that hugged you in all the right places, getting very handsy before you both had to leave for work. Typical Javier; not that you minded of course.

“Come on, give us a good one, Mrs. P!” Mikey yelled at the top of his small lungs as you proceeded to kick the ball that was rolled at you. You offered up a firm kick, but not one you would have used if you’d been playing with only adults. Taking unfair advantage was something you definitely didn’t want to do.

As soon as your foot made contact with the red rubber ball, you watched it whistle through the air before running to the first base. But...it was over before it started as you ran and then immediately proceeded to trip over your slightly untied shoelaces. You made contact with the hard earth before you knew and rolled your ankle in the process.

You landed with a mixture of an annoyed sigh and a loud oof as you chided yourself. You should have made sure they were properly tied before doing anything. The kids clambered around you, faces anxious as they tried to make sure you were okay. Physically you were sure you’d be just fine, but mentally your pride was wounded. Oh, to make a fool of yourself in front of a bunch of children.

“I’m alright,” you promised as you slowly rose to your feet; an instant tinge of pain shot through your ankle and leg as you almost lost your balance again. Maybe you were hurt… “it’s alright - you guys go back to playing and I’m going to go back to the classroom and sit for a moment. I might have twisted my ankle.”

They nodded, but gave you wary looks as you hobbled back inside the building. You should have remained the umpire and refused to play; you were obviously not coordinated enough for any of this. Slumping back in your chair, you rolled up your pant leg and hissed at the sight of the already swollen ankle. Shit.

“You’d better get that checked out,” Anna, one of the teachers from across the hall looked at you with a pained expression, “looks painful.”

“Nothing some rest and elevation won’t fix,” you insisted as you slumped against the back of the chair, “I’m too old for this! When did I become an adult?"

“Hey, at least they think you’re cool,” she huffed playfully, “they never ask me to play! But seriously, that looks pretty bad. And it happened at work, you know how they get about stuff like that.”

“Fineeee,” you groaned, “I’ll go to the school nurse.”

“I would recommend an actual urgent care or ER visit,” she raised an eyebrow, “besides, you know how Javi gets - he'll flay us all if he thought we weren’t looking out for you.”

“He’s...something else.”

“He’s amazing,” she reminded as you nodded in agreement. For how much of a worrywart he could be, you knew it was all out of love, “now go and get it checked out. I’ll handle getting the sub in and telling everyone. You have enough to worry about. Can you make it okay, or will you need a ride? Should I call Javi?”

“I can drive myself,” you promised, thankful it happened to your left foot and not the right, “I’m not going to bother my darling, overprotective husband just yet. Not until I can confirm that nothing is actually wrong. I don’t want him to stress over nothing, and I’m sure by the time he gets home tonight he’ll just be laughing at me and my clumsiness!”

“Alright,” Anna grabbed your purse and handed it to you, as you managed to slink out of the chair, “go get checked out and feel better. If you need anything at all, just call me.”

“Thanks for all of your help,” you hobbled towards the door, trying to keep as much weight off of your foot as possible, as Anna grimaced at you, “I swear it’s not that bad - worse than it looks.”

“Sure, sure,” she disagreed politely, “now quit stalling and go get help!”

»»————-　♡　————-««

The white walls and bright lights of the exam room were enough to rattle your nerves, even if just ever so lightly. You sat on the examination bed and tried to keep yourself calm as you waited for the nurse to come back and begin examining you. Nothing but the distant sounds of people outside and the tick-tock of the aging clock met your ears. You almost wish you’d called Javier just to have some company. Shit.

“Mrs. Peña?” a kind looking woman, maybe around Javier’s age poked her head in as you nodded, “sorry for the wait, we’re pretty busy right now. You’re here for a rolled ankle?”

“Yeah,” you answered as you relaxed at her comforting presence as she came in and sat on her rolling stool, eyes immediately dropping your swollen and irritated ankle, “I was playing with my kids outside - kickball - and then tripped over my own damn feet and ta da!”

“Were you at home when this happened? Playing with your kids?”

“Oh no, I’m a teacher,” you quickly explained, a warm flush rising up your cheeks at the thought of children, “it was on their lunch break at school. I-I don’t have any children of my own.”

You weren’t sure why you felt the need to offer up a clarifying statement.

“I see,” she made a few notes before turning back to you, “it looks pretty bad, to be quite frank. I’m going to assume it wasn’t a break, a sprain rather, from how you’re managing, but we’ll need to do some x-rays to confirm. We’ll do your blood work as well just to make sure everything is in order. Before we do x-rays or anything - are you pregnant?”

“No,” you admitted, looking at your feet as you tried not to sigh. It had been on your mind recently, and you weren’t sure quite what to make of your own feelings on the matter. While you hadn't been actively trying, you couldn't help but wonder if it would ever happen.

“Any chance you could be?”

“Umm,” you twiddled your thumbs as you shrugged your shoulders, “I-I suppose. I’m not on birth control and my husband and I don’t use protection...we’ve been trying but not trying if that makes sense? But my cycle’s been regular so I highly doubt it.”

“Okay,” the scratching of her pen on paper was almost maddening as she was making notes and you just sat there. You could curse yourself for babbling on to her, but you couldn’t really help it. Besides, it’d be better for them to know all the details if they were going to x-ray and poke and prod you, “very good. Let me just go get everything and we’ll get started and a better look at everything. We’ll have you set and on your way in no time.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Here you go,” you scratched Stevie’s ears as you offered him a treat, a scrap of carrot from the vegetables you were chopping up for dinner, “what do you think, buddy? Should we tell him tonight?”

“Should we tell who and what tonight?” Javi’s voice startled you so much that you almost dropped your knife. You hadn’t even heard him come in, ever the sneaky DEA agent as he walked into the kitchen. A smile was on his face as he came over to you and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, “hi baby.”

“J-Javi,” you couldn’t help but melt into his touch, despite his surprise arrival, “you’re home!”

“Oh very observant of you, Dulzura,” he teased as he pulled back and started to undo his tie. It was only then that he noticed you weren’t wearing what you had earlier in the day; you were in one of his sweaters and a pair of joggers and… “what the hell happened to your ankle?!”

There it was - Javier switching into overdrive. You put everything down on the counter and turned to him, putting on your most innocent and sheepish expression. His large, warm hands found your face as he looked you over to make sure you were okay.

“It’s nothing, Javi,” you promised him, “I swear it. It’s just a bad sprain, but I went and had it looked at and they wrapped it and gave me pain killers. It’s umm...a stupid little story actually…”

“What happened?” he bent down and reached out to tentatively and delicately cheek the binding to make sure the nurse had properly tended to your sprain. He made a small sound of disgruntled satisfaction before standing up and waiting for a proper explanation, “why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you, Javier,” you promised as he crossed his arms over his broad but acquiesced with a nod, “you’re so busy, and honestly, it wasn’t a big deal at all. Besides, Anna was ready to call you immediately, but I told her not to worry. All that happened was that I was outside with the kids and we were playing kickball and I tried over my laces, fell, and twisted my ankle. It hurts, but no fracture or anything.”

Javier’s lips twitched as he tried not to laugh, his shoulders shaking with effort as he just studied you, “are you....are you serious, Dulzura?”

“Don’t laugh at me!” you pouted as he started laughing at your dismal nod when you confirmed that that was what actually happened, “they thought I was cool and how was I supposed to say no to them!? I’m the cool teacher to them!”

“And look what that got you,” he snickered as you sighed heavily, “I’m sorry - I’m sorry. As long as you’re okay, that’s what matters. Whatever you need, just tell me the word and I’ll make sure you have it. I’ll take good care of you, Dulzura.”

“I know you will...you always do,” your heart raced as you tried to decide whether or not to tell him the rest of your revelations. But then he looked at you with those eyes, those soft brown, gentle eyes, and your heart melted. He gently pulled you into his arms as he kissed you again, chasing after your soft, sweet lips with his own, seemingly never able to get enough of you, “Javier, I love you.”

“I love you too,” you felt him smile against your lips, “what’s brought on your sudden declaration of love, mi alma?”

“I...I’m pregnant,” you blurted it out without even really thinking about it. Javier pulled back as a surprised expression crossed his features. He looked at you, seemingly in a state of shock, before opening and closing his mouth a few times, “Javi?”

“You’re pregnant?” he repeated as you nodded. It took about a moment for everything to finally come full circle as he finally realized what you had said. Immediately, an overwhelming wave of emotion came over you as you felt the back of your eyes start to sting with tears. He grabbed your face and slowly crashed his lips back onto yours and kissed deeply and slowly, “holy shit.”

“I know,” you beamed at him, “they asked before they did x-rays and blood work and then well...they discovered I was pregnant. I had no clue and then they told me and yeah - holy shit."

“That’s amazing,” he said softly, “pregnant....”

“I know,” you breathed him in and ran a hand through his dark curls, “I’m not far along, only like six weeks, so it’s still very early, but yes. We’re finally having a baby, Javier!

“I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around and held you in a tight embrace, “I love you so much.”

“You deserve this - everything. You are such a good man, Javier, and I am so honored to call you my husband, and the father of my child,” he almost melted under your praise as you traced along his features before resting your hand on his cheek, “I love you, Javi. I am so excited for this.”

“Me too,” he agreed, “this is everything - you are everything.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

3 months pregnant

“Dulzura?” Javier yawned as he wiped the sleep from his eyes as he got up and found you in the kitchen, peering into the fridge. You were in the mood for...something. You just weren’t sure what that something was. Everything sounded good but nothing seemed to satiate that craving you had deep within, “what are you doing up?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted, hoping you hadn’t woken him up by accident, “and I got hungry. I’m sorry if I woke you, my love. Go back to bed, Javier.”

“It’s fine,” he insisted as he shuffled into the kitchen and slowly pried you away from the fridge, “sit down, and let me make you something to eat. What sounds good?”

“Javier,” you did as he asked, padding over to the other side of the counter and taking a seat at the bar. You rested your head on your hands as he stifled a yawn, "honey, go back to bed. You're exhausted and you've got back to back classes tomorrow."

"They start in the late morning," he insisted, with a sleepy nod as you just laughed at him. He was such a stubborn man sometimes it drove you crazy - but you knew it came from a place of love and concern, "don't sleep well without you anyways. 's better when you're there."

"Oh, my sweet husband," he reached into the fridge and pulled out some cheese, butter, and your favorite pickled jalapeños. You watched in curiosity as he went to the bread box and grabbed the fresh loaf of bread you'd purchased earlier at the store, "grilled cheese?"

"Grilled cheese with jalapeños," he corrected, a lazy smile tugged up the corners of his mouth. You made a small sound of musing as you realized it didn't sound too bad at all, "and tomato soup, naturally. How does that sound?"

"Sounds delicious," you grinned eagerly as you leaned in to watch him work. You made a small sound of surprise as your stomach rumbled loudly. Apparently you were hungrier than you had thought, "apparently, my stomach and I agree. I think its your daughter that agrees."

At the mention of your baby, Javier paused and smiled, his eyes flitting to your barely visible bump. Some days he still couldn't believe that you were having a baby. You were his wife. What a wild world it was indeed; years ago he'd never dreamed he would have all of this. The Javier that once existed and refused to believe that there was any light in the world could never have pictured any of this.

But here you were. Continually proving him wrong. And he loved it all.

"Wait - how do you know we're having a girl?" he asked, suddenly wide awake as he raised an eyebrow at you, "I thought we still need to wait another month or so."

"We do," you grinned at him, "but I just know. I'm sure of it!"

"Well, you do have a fifty-fifty chance of being right…"

"I have a hundred percent chance of being right," you insisted as you reached over the counter and grabbed the jar of pickled jalapeños and fished a few out, and popped them into your mouth, "don't argue with your pregnant wife, Javier Peña. You of all people should know not to cross someone so dangerous."

He snorted with laughter, suddenly feeling much more awake as he sliced up cheese and turned on the stove, "and if we end up having a son?"

"Then we keep having more until we have a daughter and I am proven right," you plastered on a sweet smile, knowing it would wind him up. You'd never really discussed how many children you wanted or planned on having. It was just a sort of...whatever happens happens type thing. But, if you were being honest, you'd probably have given Javier as many children as he wanted. Your husband fell silent as he watched you for a moment before taking the jar away from, "nothing to add? Silence isn't like you, my love."

"We can have as many as you'd like," he promised, "you're the one doing all the hard work. If you're done after one, then it's fine for me. You already amaze me every day."

"Don't make me cry, Javier," your whole body soaked in the warmth and love from his simple words, "its getting really easy at this point, and you're taking advantage!"

"Sorry," he shot you a wink before leaning over and pressing a soft kiss to your lips, "back to business."

"Hmm," you mused quietly, "I thought kissing me was business."

"I thought you were hungry?"

"Fine," you playfully huffed as he carried on cooking, "Javi?"

"Dulzura?"

"I love you," you beamed at him, the little smile that worked its way onto his face take your breath away - as it always had.

"I love you."

»»————-　♡　————-««

6 months pregnant

A huff escaped your lips as you tried to reach for the socks and underwear that had fallen out of the laundry basket. It was no easy feat when you couldn’t see your own feet anymore. But you were determined to get everything up and off the floor as you walked back towards your bedroom to put away the clean clothes. And you weren’t about to give up and ask for help - not yet anyway.

Instead, you opted to awkwardly lower yourself to the floor in order to blindly grab for the discarded items. But it was no use...this was almost harder.

“You alright, Dulzura?” Javier came in and found you struggling, cleaning his dirty hands off on a rag. He’d been working outside, getting the garden spruced up as the summer slowly came to an end, “can’t reach?”

“I can,” you stuck your tongue out at him as he huffed with laughter, but motioned for you to go on. Wanting to prove that you were right, and weren’t completely helpless after all. It hadn’t been easy having to give up a lot of the things you used to be able to do with ease as you progressed in your pregnancy. The fact that none of your pants would fit over your belly anymore had been a point of horror for you - it meant you were truly and actually pregnant, you were actually having a baby. You’d always known, but that had been what made it all extremely real. Every day you got closer and closer to your due date, it all became a little more real. Exciting - but terrifying.

Not being able to see your feet had been another blow. You could hardly get proper shoes on anymore, opting for easy slide ons, which were great for the warmth of summer and didn’t matter since you were on summer break along with your kids. It was almost as though Javier could sense your frustration, and he’d often silently help you with getting your shoes on in the morning. He never said a word, knowing he didn’t have to. He always told you he loved you in so many ways, often without saying it.

You tried to again, dangling your hand along on the floor as you tried again. After watching you struggle for a moment, Javier came over and grabbed everything in one foul swoop before taking your hand in his and helping you upright.

“Hey,” you pouted at him as he put the items back into your basket, “I almost had it!”

“I know,” he kissed the tip of your nose, “but I wanted to help. Why can I not help my gorgeous wife?”

“Your very pregnant and easily frustrated wife?” you teased as you started to walk towards the bedroom. He followed after you, swatting at your bum as you squealed in delight, “Javier!”

“Come on, mi alma,” he grinned, “let me help put everything away.”

“If I let you help, you’re just going to take me to bed and then I’ll have to wash the sheets again!”

“I’ve never heard a single complaint from you before,” as you set the basket on the dresser, he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist before settling a hand on your belly and gently rubbing it a few times. He pressed a few kisses to the side of your neck as you tilted your head to give him easier access, “there we go, Dulzura. Just like you like it.”

“You’re the worst,” you teased as you turned your head to kiss him, “you’re lucky I love you. And I’m seemingly always in the mood right now - they really weren’t kidding about pregnancy making you more horny. Although, I’ve never heard a single complaint from you before.”

“And you never will,” he promised, his low in your ear as you tried not to completely let your mind wander too far away, “do you have any plans for this afternoon, Dulzura?”

“N-no,” you managed to choke out as one of his hands skimmed along the waistband of your leggings. You knew exactly where this was going, and you were loath to stop him, especially as he slowly kept kissing you.

“Good,” he rasped, “because I have plans for you. Been thinking about you all day, especially in these tight leggings. You knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you honey?”

“Uh huh,” you agreed as his warm hand slipped inside and a shiver ran up your spine, “Javier. Please.”

“Don’t worry, mi alma,” he captured your gasp in a sweet kiss, “I’ll take good care of you.”

The laundry could definitely wait.

»»————-　♡　————-««

9 months pregnant

It was an early, chilling morning as you sipped on some tea as you sat out in the garden. It was probably too cold to be sitting outside, but you were handled up in blankets and didn't care.

Christmas was a few weeks away and you enjoyed peeking into the neighbor's yards to see what they all had going on for decorations.

"Are you sure you don't want to come inside?" Javier poked his head out from the sliding screen door, his brow furrowed in concentration, "its freezing! And I have breakfast!"

"I've got blankets and a baby keeping me warm," you reminded him, pointing at your large belly. You were due in a couple of weeks; how time had flown. He jokingly frowned at you, sticking out his tongue. Playfully rolling your eyes, you clambered to your feet and waddled over to him, "fine, hold on you big baby. This is because I want breakfast."

Javier was on his winter break from teaching and you were on maternity leave now and you definitely didn't mind having him around all the time. If you could have always had it this way, you definitely wouldn't have minded.

"I'm just looking out for you," he insisted with a pout as you pressed a kiss to his lips, "I talked to Papà. He's really excited to come in a few weeks - more like excited to meet his grandbaby."

"I'm not complaining at all," you insisted, knowing there would be many sleepless nights and chaotic days ahead of you, "we'll need all the help we can get. Hell, maybe we can convince Steve and Connie to come and visit too…"

"I'm sure we'll have all the help in the world between our families and friends, Dulzura," he promised as he took your hand and pulled you into the warm kitchen, putting a plate of breakfast for you on the counter, "I'm sure we'll get sick of having so many people around."

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see," you took a bite and smiled as Stevie laid by your feet. The whole house was warm and cozy, perfectly decorated for Christmas, with a huge tree and already lots of presents. Javier had really outdone himself this year, seemingly more in the Christmas spirit than you. Honestly, you were feeling a little bit out of it - being so pregnant would do that to you.

You watched your husband for a few moments, admiring his profile and lazy smile. Gods, you were still so in love with him. He felt you watching him closely, and turned to you, cooking a dark brow, "what's on your mind, mi alma?"

"Nothing much," you shrugged lightly, feeling a flush of warmth was over you at him catching you, "just thinking about how I love you, and how I'm glad you're here with me, that you knocked me up, and yeah. Are you…are you nervous Javi?"

"About the baby?"

"No, about the Astros' odds next season," you snorted as he groaned at your joke, "of course the baby. I'm just...so nervous. Like I feel ready to meet her, but I'm so scared that I'll fuck it up somehow."

"You still think its a girl?"

"Positive," you grinned at him - you'd decided not to find out the sex ahead of time, leaving it a surprise for both of you. You were still convinced it was a girl, Javier was undecided, "we'll find out soon enough!"

"Either way," he brought his plate and sat down next to you, "everything will be alright. You're going to be an amazing mother, Dulzura. You are everything."

"I love you, Javier," you beamed as he gently put a hand on your belly, "I know it'll be alright, but holy shit - I'm so nervous. Its getting so real lately. We're going to be parents."

"Parents," he repeated, "fuck."

"Who would have thought-" you were quickly cut off when you felt the baby flutter round. A small sound of surprise left your lips as you grabbed Javier's hand and placed it on your belly, "she's telling you not to curse."

He was silent for a moment as a smile spread on his features; despite having felt this many times by now, it still continued to surprise him. He couldn't even imagine how it felt for you, "this is...everything."

"I realized I didn't know what to get you for Christmas so I got you a baby instead," you don't know why it came to mind, but as soon as the words left your lips you brought into a fit of laughter - Javier joined in, a brilliant sound that you adored above all.

"Best Christmas present ever," he whispered before leaning in and giving you a gentle kiss - sweet from the syrup and pancakes he had just eaten, "I mean it. I love you both more than you will ever know."

"We love you too," you grinned as he stroked your belly, "I'm glad your class was the only one available and I took it. I'm glad you were a grumpy professor that let me into his office - I was able to work my magic and look where that got us."

He threw his back with laughter, his dark curls shining brilliantly in the light as his eyes crinkled in the corners. You'd never been more glad for subjecting yourself to his class.

"Me too," he whispered as he put a hand on your cheek, "you always were a stubborn thing."

"Some things never change," you stuck your tongue out at him, "I trust your daughter will be the same!"

»»————-　♡　————-««

You were humming to yourself as you shuffled around the kitchen and tried to put together a mid afternoon snack when you felt an odd sensation in your lower belly. It caused you to drop the knife on the counter as you held onto the marble and gritted your teeth. Stevie was at your feet in an instant, looking at you with concern.

"Its okay, buddy," you reassured him as the pain passed. Surely it couldn't have been anything too bad...probably just an end of pregnancy pain. Sighing at your nonsense worry, you reached for the knife again but before you reached it, the pain was back, "never mind, shit shit shit."

Trying to keep yourself calm, you leaned against the counter and tried to even your breathing. Contractions. Of course. You were due in a week and you still hadn't been expecting it.

"Javier?" he was down the hall in the second bedroom that had been converted into the nursery, putting away the final touches of clothing. Before he could respond, you felt an odd sensation followed by liquid running down your legs, "Javier!"

"What's wrong, Dulzura?" he rushed down the hall and back into the kitchen, worry etched onto his features as you stood there in shock and clutched at your belly, "honey-"

"My water broke," you said meekly as you pointed to your wet pants, "and I've had a few contractions - I think the baby's coming."

"Okay," he immediately kicked into gear as he remained cool and calm, despite wanting to panic and worry along with you, "its okay. I'm going to get the hospital bag, we'll get you in the car, Stevie to the neighbor, and then we'll go and have a baby."

"You make it seem so simple," you huffed lightly as you tried to channel his inner calm demeanor, "we'll be okay, right? I-I'm scared…"

"I know, honey," he promised as he kissed the side of your head, "you've done so amazing already, it will all be okay. I'm right here, okay? I'm just going to grab your bag and the dog and we'll go. Ten minutes and we'll be on the way."

"Okay," you agreed as he practically ran down the hall to get your packed bag, "we're going to have a baby, Javi."

"Indeed we are," he agreed with a small smile as he reached for his wallet and keys and stuff for the neighbor to watch Stevie for a few days, "we're having our baby."

Holy shit.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“You’re doing amazing, sweetheart,” Javier praised you as you squeezed his hand after another push. You groaned and gritted your teeth as you glared at him; this was absolute hell, “the baby’s almost there.”

“Shut up, Javier,” you hissed as you got ready for another push, “I am never letting you touch me again! You did this to me.”

“Hey - it was a team effort,” he reminded you in a vain attempt at a joke. Your death glare and the squeezing of his hand said it all, “sorry, Dulzura. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you said as you took a deep breath, “but right now, I’m blaming this on you.”

“Fair enough,” he said as you pushed again. He was sure his hand was going to break.

»»————-　♡　————-««

It wasn’t much longer before you were laying back and holding the smallest bundle you could ever imagine in your arms. You were somewhere between crying tears of joy and exhaustion, as you stared at your newborn daughter in awe. Javier was sitting next to you, looking down at her, his own eyes glossy as he gently touched her cheek. She had the darkest eyes and a shock of dark hair, already taking after her father. She had come into the world squealing and crying but had fallen asleep almost as soon as Javier held her.

“I told you we were having a girl,” you teased him softly, “I was right. Look at her, Javier. That’s our daughter. We made her.”

“You did all the hard work, mi alma,” he whispered as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head, “she’s beautiful.”

“Lucia Luna Peña,” you grinned at your husband, “it’s perfect. I love you both more than you could ever know. Javier...you really are everything to me - the best friend, best husband, and now the best father. She’s going to love the hell out of you, just like I do.”

He remained silent for a moment as he looked at the sleeping baby before looking back at you. His whole world was in his arms, and the thought of that alone was enough to overwhelm him with emotion. He’d never thought he wanted this - a “boring” job, a home, a wife, and a baby.

But here he was. And he had never felt happier, never felt more full of love and life. This was everything.

“I love you so much, Dulzura - you and Lucia,” he promised as he rested his head on top of yours, “you have given me everything, more than you know. Te quiero con todo.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier pena x fem!reader #javier pena x you #a good man #agm universe #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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lxngbottom · 4 years ago

Text

Mistakes That Last Forever. | N.L.

in which neville stumbles across... an “old friend”.

warnings: mentions of cheating, angst, pregnancy, slight trauma mentions (lmk if i missed any!)

i got inspired for this by an outsider imagine that i read like a really longgggg time ago... so enjoy this ig (AND YES THERE WILL BE A PART 2 TO THIS)

(PART 2)

—

neville’s whole life had been filled with regrets. they seeped into his skin, torturing his clouded mind on day to day basis. the trauma from the second war had left a mark on him, and even though he was now in the infamous herbology professor at hogwarts, he still didn’t feel as if he was living the life he had always wanted to. he didn’t feel successful, he didn’t feel... good about himself. and the main source of that?

you.

his biggest regret was losing you. hurting you. leaving you in such a needing time.

it had all started after the war. you two had been inseparable since 2nd year, as you were the one who had helped him down from the chandelier when he was tragically hung up by those pesky pixies. and ever since then, he was enamored with you. he was consumed by the mere thought of you. and, your feelings didn’t differ too much.

so, you two became official in your 4th year. you two were each other’s firsts for practically everything that could be a first. and, you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. you were so in love with him, it tore you from the inside out.

but unfortunately, the war arrived. and, it took a huge toll on your relationship. it affected each bit of what you guys had built together. after the war had ended, you guys tried so hard to make it work. but, neville... it seemed as if he just... gave up.

you would never forget the day you came home from work to your shared apartment, and heard strange noises coming from your bedroom. you went up, deep down, already knowing what the noises were. and of course, when you opened the door, your worst nightmare had became a reality. and even worse?

you were pregnant.

neville knew this too, but, he felt as if he had spent so long being “stuck” in a relationship with you, he never got the chance to meet new people. and because of that, for the sake of your child, you left. because, he had left you first, and he had done something unforgivable. something that would leave you scarred, and something that would take hold of you for years.

but, now things were different for you. you were more than content with where your life was at right now. you had an amazing job as the journalist for the daily prophet, and you were damn good at it too. it was a collective agreement that you were definitely a step up from rita skeeter.

neville couldn’t disagree more, though. not that he didn’t think you were good at your job, he always thought that you were an amazing writer. but, he had to force himself to cancel his personal subscription to the daily prophet, as the simple mention of your name on the front page, or sometimes, maybe even your picture, broke his heart to see. some from guilt, but mostly, from just missing you.

just five years later, here you were. walking through a muggle hardware store, looking at all of the houseplants that surrounded the small garden.

“mummy, look!”

you whipped your head around, and smiled when you saw your small son, chubby just like neville used to be when he was young. you had always tried to disregard the fact that he looked exactly like his father, but it was difficult to. you loved your son, with everything you had in your body, but, he was a constant reminder of all the pain that had been caused.

“very nice, nev!” you giggled, watching as your son played with a single pink flower bouquet. he grinned at you, and suddenly plucked the fresh flower off of it’s stem. you gasped, and wanted your hand at him, “neville longbottom! we don’t do that! do you want to get in trouble?!”

his face contorted into a guilty one as he made those ridiculously adorable puppy dog eyes at you, “i’m sorry, mum... i-i-i didn’t know. i was trying to pick it for you...”

you couldn’t help but to feel a little guilty as he sadly dropped the broken off flower on the floor, watching as it blew away from the huge fan that hung above the both of you.

“it’s okay, dear. but, try not to pick them from the actual stems, okay? just... look on the floor. you’ll see a bunch of free flowers everywhere.” you teased, sending him a small smile. he looked up at you, and those sad puppy dog eyes quickly sparkled with excitement as he ran away, looking around the garden for those small, long forgotten flowers.

you chuckled quietly to yourself as you watched your son, seeing how his eyes glowed from all of the plants.

yeah. he was definitely neville’s son.

you turned your body back around, attempting to continue your shopping. but, your body then collided with another, causing you to come to a complete halt.

“oh, merlin! i’m so—“ you were just about to spurt out multiple apologies, until, you looked at the figure.

there he was. tall, muscular, and a intent gaze fixated on his face as he stared at you.

“n—neville?”

he was so shocked. he couldn’t even let out a single mutter. you were right there. right in front of him. after not seeing you for so long, but thinking about you always, you were finally right here.

“y/n...” he breathed out finally, trying to not show how incredibly nervous he was.

this was the first time you two had seen each other since the day you packed all of your things, and left him standing alone at the door step that once belonged to the both of you. he could never seem to part with the apartment, the whole environment still leaving trails of you. so, of course, he still resided there during his off times.

“um—wow... shit—i’m sorry. you know... for bumping into you...” he laughed nervously, stepping away from you. you gave him a nervous chuckle as well, trying to hide the redness that was now blending within your skin.

“oh—it’s alright. i should’ve—you know... been watching where i was going...”

neville opened his mouth to respond, as he wanted to ask you so many things. but, he was interrupted by a small child running up to you, tears streaming down his face as he clutched onto your leg.

“mum...” he sniffled out, and you looked down with a concerned look on your face, “t-t-the lady yelled at me...i-i-i accidentally b-broke one of the f-f-flowers...”

neville knew those eyes. he knew that familiar stutter. he knew those tears. it was like practically looking into a mirror.

that was his son.

you looked over at neville nervously, seeing realization flashing in his green orbs. but, you bent down to neville jr, who was an absolute mess. he never took kindly to people getting onto him, especially if they were yelling.

“oh... it’s alright, nev. we have a whole garden at home that we can grow flowers in...” you reassured him, wiping his small tears. he nestled into your touch, “why don’t you go and pick out some seeds? any kind you like... i’ll get them for you.”

there was a shy smile on his face as you said that, and he looked over at the strange man that stood baffled beside you.

“okay...” he sniffled, wiping his nose, “but... who’s that?” he asked, pointing to neville.

you had never told your son about his father, and you had hoped that he never would. but, you knew the day would come. you just didn’t think that day would be today.

“an old friend, darling. now, do as i say and go find some flowers, alright?”

your son nodded, reluctantly leaving you with the tall man that he had no idea the identity of. you stood up fully awkwardly, and looked over at neville who’s face was now angry.

he watched as the boy ran off, “he doesn’t know who i am?” he asked through gritted teeth, his eyes narrowing at you.

you looked back at him, “nev—“

“no... how could you not tell him? that’s my son, y/n. you—you told me you were putting the baby in adoption... how could you lie to me? and him? why would you do that?”

you knew you owed the man an explanation, but all at the same time, he had brought this upon himself. and yeah, maybe it was fucked up that you had lied to him, but, you genuinely did believe at the time you were getting rid of the baby.

“neville... not here. please...”

“no, y/n. you owe me a goddamn explanation. i mean... this is my fucking child we’re talking about. look at him! he looks just like me!”

you looked over at the chubby boy, watching him closely as he skimmed through seeds, staring at the images on the front.

“don’t you think i know that, neville?” you whispered, “listen... we can talk about this. but, not here. and, not while he’s around...”

“no! i want to talk to him! i deserve it—goddamn it, y/n! how could you fucking do this to me?!”

“and how could you cheat on me?! after everything we went through together! you fucking left me in the dust!”

he could see the pain in your eyes. there was obviously still a lot of hurt, so much rage pent up from the whole scenario. of course you had never fully gotten over it. it was still something you thought about on a daily basis, as you had believed at one point that you would be married to neville by now.

“y/n...” neville started, stepping closer to you, “i—i never meant to hurt you...”

you stared into his eyes for a moment, trying to find some sort of other answer other than that stupid apology you had heard so many times before.

“it doesn’t matter, longbottom. i have to go. we can talk about this whole thing another time. goodbye.”

#harry potter #harry potter smut #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #neville longbottom #neville longbottom imagine #neville longbottom imagines #neville longbottom smut #neville x reader #neville x y/n #neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom x y/n

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dawnmon · 3 years ago

Text

Foolish Tommy Lore Transcript

Title says it lol, on May 6th they did lore that I transcribed at the time; the whole stream is great but I only transcribed the lore bit just for funsies, regardless of if it already exists. If it does, welp; I promise this is my own typed out thing that took an hour or so lol

Copy pasted from a google doc; whole 2.2k word transcript beneath the cut:

*Text*: Sound effects *Laughs* *Sighs* *Pickle sounds*

(Text): Actions, descriptions, or lulls (Pause) (Long Pause) (Looks away) (Loudly)

/Text: Overlapping lines

Pickle: Pickle.

https://youtu.be/Djy6uPtIKiE

Starts at 2:52:50

Foolish: I am a rich man, Tommy.

Tommy: Well, cool. I’m not.

Foolish: *Laughs* You’re wearing full Netherite armor. Well, besides the iron boots.

Tommy: Well I borrowed from Tubbo, so I could go and fight Dream.

(Pause)

Foolish: ...Oh, how’d that go? (Pause) ...Wait, you fought Dream?

Tommy: …*Frustrated sigh*

Tommy: (Heading to the Pickle) Do you hear that, do you hear that?!

Foolish: N-No no, no, nono, no no no, that is an important question!

Tommy: Do you hear that?!

Foolish: That is an important question!

Tommy: *Pickle sound effect* Ayyy! /Amen brother, amen!

Foolish: /No no, bad, no, shut up Pickle!

Foolish: What do you mean, you fought Dream?

Tommy (Quietly): ...W-Well, y’know… you’ve seen Wilbur, haven’t you?

Foolish: No, no, actually. Well, actually, it’s been a while since I’ve seen Ghostbur…. Probably, like, a few weeks ago. Lovely guy, I like Ghostbur.

(Long pause, Tommy looks down at the floor)

Foolish: Do you need Pickle time? You seem upset.

Tommy: Nope. We just mine.

Foolish: Just mine? Okay! Okay..

Tommy: *Long sigh* … Ghostbur’s, um, Ghostbur’s not here anymore.

Foolish: Oh, did he pack up? Move out? Got bored? He seemed like a free spirit.

Tommy: Yeah, he moved out, um, to this little train station, far away. There’s a little train station, you know, right near the world border. There’s a little train station.

Foolish: Oh, well that’s cool! I wanna see that sometime. (Pause) ...I was thinking about building a train myself, actually, I was gonna call it The Hype Train.

Tommy: ...That’s really cringe.

Foolish: Well, I-I disagree, That depends on your definition of cringe.

Tommy: You hit it, the nail on the head.

Foolish: No, I disagree, I-

Tommy: There’s a little, um, there’s a little train station, out near the world border, and Ghostbur went, but he left Friend.

Foolish: He left Friend?

Tommy: But we’ll get Friend to him soon.

Foolish: Oh.

Tommy: Because then he’ll be happy. ...But no, um, Ghostbur left, and I, I went to prison, to go and….

Tommy: (Pause) How much can you… take, Foolish?

Foolish: Take? What do you mean?

Tommy: Blood. Blood. Does that upset you?

Foolish: Uuum, mm, see, okay, okay, I-I don’t really, do that anymore. I haven’t killed a soul since being here. I don’t really do killing.

Tommy: (Slightly shaky) Ouh...well, um. I went to go and kill Dream, Foolish, you see, you know he killed me, don’t you? /And uh-

Foolish: /Yeah, I’m aware that- Wait, speaking of which, h- I never really asked you, you know, I knew it was kind of a touchy subject… How exactly are you back?

(Long silence. They stare at each other.)

Foolish: Okay, okay, maybe wrong question, wrong question…. Y’know, one step at a time…

Tommy: Alright, I don’t really feel comfortable talking about that with you, Foolish, /if I’m honest.

Foolish: /Okay, okay, no, fair enough,

Tommy: But, um…. *coughs* No.

Foolish: So, you fought Dream?

Tommy: Yeah.

Foolish: Recently?

Tommy: Well, I tried to, and then Wilbur, uh, was revived, he was revived, and he came back, uuuh, and now he’s… I don’t know where he’s gone, (Energetically) but all I know is I’m proving that bitch wrong, ay?!

Foolish: Wait, what do you mean-

Tommy: Because he told me, he told me I’m weak! He told me I couldn’t even lift… lift my whole weight, six-foot-three, and now, I’m, what I’m doing is I’m going and I’m picking up all this stone to prove him, I’m gonna get it and I’m gonna fucken go “Yeah, bitch!”

Foolish: You’re… gathering stone… wait okay, I have so many questions, but we'll just stick to one question at a time…. You’re gathering stone… to prove that, you’re a…a man?

Tommy: Well, I already know I’m a man, just to, fucken prove him wrong. And I need to, uh-

Foolish: That you can… gather stone?

Tommy: (Pause, quieter) Well, y-yeah. Fuckin’, I don’t know how to speak to you, man.

Foolish: I don’t really see how this solves the problem…?

Tommy: Well, it doesn’t solve the problem, it’s preventing the problem, Foolish, alright? Have you noticed that all the problems come, the-they don’t get solved, do they, alright? It ends up with some madman screaming he’s solved it, alright, and now he’s- and then look at ‘im, alright, now he’s taken away everyone's favorite man. Ghostbur, alright? Problems don’t really get solved on this server.

Foolish: No, no, yeah, I-I suppose you’re right….

Tommy: Yeah. /Well, that’s what I’m doing-

Foolish: /Well, how do we go about changing that? By gathering stone?

Tommy: No! Well, what I’m doing, my friend, is preventing the problem. Before it gets out of hand, like it did before, alright? *Sigh*

Foolish: So… Wilbur’s back… Uumm, okay, yep, I’ll just- I’ll- I’m not even gonna ask how he’s back, that’s-that’s a question for another day-- and you’re here, just, you’re trying to stop him? You don’t- You don’t like that he’s back? I- Weren’t you guys friends at some point?

Tommy: Listen. Listen, alright. /Come over here Foolish,

Foolish: /I’m still a little fuzzy on everything,

Tommy: Let me-Let me show you something, alright? You-You’re still very new ‘round here, /I’m not really sure... what you are, but, come over here, alright?

Foolish: /Yeah yeah yeah.

Tommy: (Leads him to L’manberg) You see this? L’manberg.

Foolish: Oh yeah, I’ve heard this before.

Tommy: This was mine and Wilbur’s na- It was Wilbur’s nation, (shakily) it was Wilbur’s, which makes it all the more heart-wrenching, alright? And he decided, that even, *sigh* and he doesn’t mean this, but even though at the time--when we made this?--it was to get away from Dream, because Dream, wouldn’t let us do what we wanted to. He told us that we had to live under his big, iron fist, but we went “No, Dream, that’s not fair, is it?” alright, you don’t think that’s fair, do you Foolish?

Foolish: No, no, /so you were a couple revolutionaries...revolutionists, basically.

Tommy: /We can’t- People want to do what they want. So we made this nation, yeah, we made a nation, and it was glorious, and it was amazing! People challenged it, sure, but we got through it!

Tommy: *Heavy sigh* And then to try and con--you really don’t know the story?-- /and then to try and consolidate our power... we held an election.

Foolish: /I mean...yeah.

Tommy: Now… *Sigh*

Foolish: Oh man, you’re saying there used to government here? Oof.

Tommy: Now, the problem with an election is it kinda puts all your life on the line, which can be good, if you’re confident, but perhaps we were a little overconfident… and because of that, Foolish, well, we, um…. We lost! To the hands of JSchlatt, right here, actually, right about here is where we lost.

Foolish: Oh.

Tommy: And Schlatt banished us. Now, we were okay, when- I was okay, when we were banished, and I knew that we’d get it back, that we’d talk about it, right, as you said, peace is the option.

Foolish: Mhm.

Tommy: ...But here’s the thing, Foolish. Wilbur didn’t want to do anymore talking, he’d given up with that, because some people aren’t strong enough, alright, some people stop talking.

Tommy: ...You know the phrase “treat others how you’d want to be treated”, Foolish? /That’s a really important phrase.

Foolish: /Yeah! Yeah (nods)

Tommy: And people hear it, you hear your teachers say it, you hear it when you’re young, people don’t ever listen to it, “treat others how you’d want to be treated”. Wilbur disregarded that rule. He decided that... he wanted to be treated poorly, so he’d treat everyone else poorly.

Foolish: Why do you think that?

Tommy: *Sigh* Honestly, I…. Sometimes I don’t know, myself. (Pause). But this block here, (Gestures to TNT at Wilbur’s shrine), he used this and he blew up L’manberg and...shattered it into a million pieces. Now, Wilbur, he was a good man, he is a good man, deep inside him, alright? /But he’s been a-

Foolish: /So you’re saying there’s still redemption for him?

Tommy: Well, he’s been a good man deep inside him, but he’s been a bad guy for a very, very long time. And I know that there’s still good in him, there’s still good in everyone, really, Foolish, even if they are all assholes, and wankers, and… but-

Foolish: Do you believe in second chances?

Tommy: No, I don’t. I don’t really believe in second chances, I don’t- that’s not really a thing for me, Foolish, it’s just that… *sigh*...I believe everyone’s got a little bit of good in them. And I know that Wilbur had good in him, alright, so I won’t g-

Foolish: You said “had”?

Tommy:...Yeah, he did, because when we made this nation- although now he seems to claim- he claimed to me, Foolish, that the nation (slams fists on irl desk) we built together! *Shaky inhale* ...He claimed that it was all just a ruse for power. Now, I think that Wilbur’s just being a bad guy, alright, and that’s okay, we’re all bad guys, everyone messes up, it’s- you learn the most from your mistakes. He’s made so many mistakes, so many that have hurt so many people, but, what this is gonna be about isn’t giving him a second chance, isn't giving him a third chance, it’s not about chances, Foolish! It’s about making sure you don’t give up on the people you care about. So I know you’re still really new to this server, and I know you’ve built lots of things,

Foolish: (Nods) Yeah, yeah,

Tommy: So I know if you really care about someone, do not give up on them, Foolish, don’t give up on people, alright? /Because that’s how you lose.

Foolish: /You know, Tommy, I think I had you wrong. I think I had you wrong.

(They leave L’manberg)

Tommy: Oh, I don’t know what that means.

Foolish: Well I just, y’know, you’re a little more...mature than I thought you would be. I thought you were just a loud, obnoxious, y’know what I mean, do-what-you-want, y’know, a couple muggings here and there, but no, maybe there’s more to you than meets the eye.

Tommy: Well, I still do that, obviously, because it’s funny. And it’s fun-

Foolish: Well, *Laughs nervously* Nah, I mean- I understand…. But maybe there’s more to you, Tommy, than I thought.

Tommy: Thanks, I guess. (Begrudgingly) ..Maybe there’s more to you, too.

Foolish: Oh, there’s so much….

Tommy: Okay.

Foolish: Do you consider yourself to be the good guy or the bad guy?

Tommy: ...That really depends who you ask, doesn’t it, you know? If you ask Dream, he’d say I’m- he’d say I’m his little- I’m his little play- (shakily) his little toy, that he plays with, y’know? It doesn’t…

Tommy: *Inhale* Foolish, honestly, I used to consider myself the “good guy”, y’know, the fucken second in command, going around and going “yeah, let’s do this!” yeah, but recently… these past….

Tommy: …*Shaky breath* (Quietly) These past 6 months, or so, Foolish, everything got so much harder than it was before, but, because before it was just “us fighting the bad guys!” but it was also clear, y’know, it was all so clear,

Foolish: Yeah, nothing muddy,

Tommy: But it’s not been clear for so long, alright? It wasn’t “these are the bad guys, these are the good guys,” now it’s, “he’s doing this, and that makes him a bit worse, that makes him a bit-”, it all got so fucking complicated, so… I don’t know. It depends on who you ask, but… *sigh*

Foolish: I dunno, it all seems strange, cause, just hearing from others, and y’know, learning a little bit, it seems like you’ve been… the hero, you’ve been, the villain, the conqueror, the savior, and even now I still have no idea what you exactly are.

Tommy: Well, that’s up to you to decide, isn’t it? I’m just a… I dunno, these days Foolish, I’m a little weaker than I used to be. I’m not who I want to be, but… *long sigh*

Foolish: I’m gonna be honest with you, Tommy, that’s the same case for me as well.

Tommy: Oh, really?

Foolish: Yeah, yeah yeah yeah

Tommy: Here’s the thing, Foolish, unlike you, I don’t really have a choice. I have to try and be who I want to be, ‘cause if I don’t… very bad things are going to happen on this server. And now Wilbur’s back, Foolish, I can’t… quite frankly, no one can risk that. So I don’t really have a choice. I’ll just keep on mining, I’ll and keep on pogchamping.

Foolish: You’re just gonna pog through the pain?

Tommy: I try to, and then Twitch deleted the Pog emote.

(They talk about Pogchamp and Lore Man for the rest of the stream [a very funny bit])

Ends at 3:03:23

#Dream SMP #Dream SMP Transcript #Transcript #foolish gamers #Tommyinnit #Ask to tag

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justletmeplayminecraft · 4 years ago

Note

I just read your sheep!Zed & Werewolf!Ren one-shot and now I can't stop thinking of Ren herding Zed like a sheepdog. Maybe jokingly herding team ZIT together, sometimes because one is loney, down, or upset.

One-shot please?

i will gratefully take any opportunity to revisit the space outlaws universe! i love these guys and this universe a lot and this is such a fun prompt. hopefully i can provide!

the space outlaws universe belongs to @martuzzio ! usual reminder that my fics are not necessarily canon to the full universe because i like embedding my own headcanons. this is generally fluffy, light hurt/comfort.

Zed wakes to a wet spot poking at his side. He whines, rolling away and trying to pull his crop-top down. The cold patch returns with more ferocity, nudging until it budges him from his comfortable position on the sofa. Zed pushes himself up with a groan, raising a hand to rub his face. He jumps backwards at the sight of black eyes staring at him, surrounded by fur.

"Oh, Ren!" Zed's giggle is strained and high-pitched, folding forwards as he rests a hand over his heart. "You can't do that to me, man, I'm fragile!" Ren pats his front feet back and forth, continuing to nose at Zed's stomach. Zed tries to push him back. "Ren, that's cold!"

Ren steps away, looking at the door to the common room. Zed tilts his head, frowning in thought.

"Do you want to go out? No- I... You can open the door yourself." Zed leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. Ren takes the opportunity to bump Zed's face, leaving him to splutter. "Ah, Ren, I don't want fur in my mouth! I've got enough of my hair to deal with."

Ren stares at Zed, and Zed stares back, trying to figure out what Ren wants from him. Usually he'd be pulling in his speech device by now, so Ren probably thinks he can communicate this without it. Hm. Ren finally backs away, once again pointing his body towards the door. Zed sighs, rocking forward to stand. Ren sticks by his side as he walks over and with a wave of Zed's hand, the metal panels slide open.

"See, there you go. Open." Ren stands there, continuing to blink at him. "I- Are you not planning to go, then?" An ear twitch. Very helpful. Lunging, Ren locks his teeth delicately around Zed's skirt, tugging him towards the doorway. "Ren?" Ren looks up at him, fabric still in his mouth, before pulling again. This time Zed takes a step forward. "Alright, do you want me to follow you?" Ren drops the fabric to nod. "Okay, let's go."

Ren trots down the hall, claws clicking on the metal. Zed tries to pull out the wrinkles in his ensemble. He should really stop taking naps in random places. It's not like there's not enough beds to sleep in around this ship. He unconsciously finds himself stroking his hand through Ren's fur as they walk, watching the doors as they pass by. Ren occasionally sniffs the air before deciding which turn to take.

"Where are you leading me, buddy?" Zed muses. Ren glances at him, ears pointed up. There are no answers on that adorable puppy face of his. Zed scruffs up the fur on Ren's head. "Guess I'll find out, huh?"

They continue their walk in silence, Zed bouncing with each step. Ren's tail wags leisurely behind them, a pup on a mission. They end up going down a floor, as the colour gives way to the white of the labs. Zed glances around, keeping an eye on where they're heading. He can't figure it out. Not until Ren takes a turn into one of the labs, butting the door with his head until Zed laughs and opens it.

The sound of electronics is loud, and Zed waves at Impulse, sitting in front of various blueprints. A pair of goggles sits atop his head, a stylus tapping against his lip. The screens flicker out upon seeing his guest.

"Oh, hey Zed." Impulse waves. Ren slinks around the corner and Impulse laughs upon seeing him. "And Ren, too! Here to help with my lab work?" Ren seemingly ignores his words, walking behind Impulse so he can nudge at his back. Impulse frowns, looking down at him. "Huh."

"I, uh, get the feeling we're being herded?" Zed says, rubbing at the back of his neck. Ren's tail wags, pushing Impulse again.

"Okay, okay, just give me a minute to clear up, yeah?" Ren plops straight down on the floor, sparking a laugh from Impulse. He pets Ren's head whilst pulling the goggles off his own. "Thanks, dude." Zed waits by the door as Impulse puts his files and trinkets away, trying to figure out exactly what it is Ren wants. He'll admit to being stumped by it, still.

The second Impulse steps away from his bench, Ren is curling around him and encouraging him to the door. Impulse chuckles, walking obediently and joining Zedaph. From there, Ren takes the lead again, walking with a purpose. They haven't got too far when Zed yawns, leaning on Impulse's shoulder. Impulse wraps an arm around him.

"Tired?" He asks. Zed huffs, rubbing his eyes.

"Ren woke me up from my nap, man!" He whines, perching his head on Impulse's shoulder. Impulse smiles, squeezing Zed's side.

"How awful."

"You lived, right?" Impulse asks, with a teasing glimmer in his eyes. Zed swoons, Impulse laughing as he struggles to keep him upright.

"I know! I got poked by a wet nose!" Zed gestures at his outfit, a simple crop-top and loose skirt. "I'm not made for poking, Imp."

"Barely, it was terrible! I nearly crossed the golden bridge!" Ren looks back at them both with a disapproving look. Impulse shoves Zed back onto his feet to scratch behind Ren's ear.

"It's okay, Zed doesn't mean it." Zed rolls his eyes at the both of them.

Zed didn't even realise how far they've been walking until they're entering a residential part of the ship. Their talk falls into gossip about a recent mission. It's been a while since one of them three have gone out. They don't like going without each other, but they don't like going with each other either... It's hard. They're still trying to work on it, but they've not gotten far.

Zed shares a look with Impulse as they get closer to their own bedrooms. Is Ren trying to tell Zed he needs to go to bed? But then why get Impulse? He also can't ignore the missing point of their triangle.

Ren bumps his nose into Zed's door. Zed steps forward, unlocking it with quick movements. He glances around carefully before his eyes fall on his nest bed. And the person burrowed amongst the pillows. Tango sighs at the sight of them, sinking further into the blankets. Ren strides in without care, nudging at Tango's face before curling around his back.

"Ren, I told you it was okay," Tango whispers, stroking Ren's head. His voice shakes uncharacteristically, even his hands struggling to stay still. Impulse walks in, taking Zed's hand to lead him inside.

"Tango? What's wrong?" Impulse asks, his voice gentle. Tango continues to focus on Ren, voice still quiet.

"It was just a stupid bad dream. It's no big deal." Zed climbs into bed, crawling over to Tango instead of his usual leap into it. He wastes no time in wrapping his arms around Tango's shoulder, cuddling his side.

"That doesn't matter. You've stayed up with me for loads of my nightmares."

"And mine," Impulse agrees. "And even if you hadn't, you're our friend." Impulse sits on Tango's other side, arranging a few pillows so he can curl up comfortably. "We're not going to leave you. You can call us whenever you need."

"I don't- I didn't think I needed you." Even as he talks, there's an uncertainty in Tango's voice. Zed gives him a squeeze.

"Well, Ren disagreed," he replies. "And we're here now." A soft smile appears on Tango's face at those words. He leans into Zed's hold, reaching a hand out to Impulse.

"Yeah. You guys are here now."

"And we're not going anywhere," Impulse tells him, running his thumb over Tango's knuckles. "I don't think Ren is, either." They look at the werewolf, already slumbering. At least, pretending to. There's every chance he's listening in secretly.

"Mm, I'm going to copy him," Zed yawns again, shuffling down into the blankets. Tango adjusts his hold so Zed can curl against him, Ren behind them both. Impulse watches with a smile, trying to commit this sight to memory.

"Don't be afraid to call us, okay?" Impulse says. Tango looks at him.

"I can't promise that," he admits. Impulse hums.

"I'm not asking you to. I just don't want you to deal with this alone, okay?" Impulse shuffles down further. "We're all safe. We're going to stay that way."

"You can't promise that," Tango replies, tilting his head. He looks tired.

"But we can try," Zed whispers. "And we're not alone this time." He strokes through Ren's thick fur, his eyes already closed.

"We can try," Impulse repeats. "And hey, we've survived this many years, right?" He squeezes Tango's cheek, managing to pull a laugh from him.

"Is it really surviving if I'm stuck with you two?"

"Hey!" They fall into content giggles. With his half-open eyes, Zed could swear Ren is smiling.

#hermitcraft #space outlaws au #space outlaws #my writing #zed #tango #impulse #I'm imagining this might be like... maybe a year after their reunion?#when they're trying to do missions together again #but it's hard when that fateful one is still so fresh in their minds #also zed is fairly comfortable with ren now since he can deal with his teeth by him!#those two have worked together to grow zeds confidence #also im sorry this request took so long. the same for the rest in my inbox #i had an essay due last week so things got put on hold a little

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syndxlla · 4 years ago

Text

Part nine of the More to Love series

Summary: Plans for the ball are in full swing, the concealment of your relationship with the knight dwindles and you make a deal with one another that leads to both of you learning a new and valuable skill

Word Count: 8.9k, NO USE OF ‘Y/N’

Warnings: SMUT (oral sex F receiving, fingering, multiple orgasms), swearing, mentions of wounds

Author’s Note: and we’re back to your regularly scheduled royalty and princesscore writings. this chapter is very chill honestly, but i still really enjoyed writing it! there’s also the introduction of THE DRESS. y’all this dress is insane you really aren’t ready i am OBSESSED with this dress.

Part eight

“Are you listening, Princess?” You hadn’t even realized you had zoned out. Your cheek was bright red from resting against your palm, and your eyes had glazed over with boredom. You hoped you didn’t look too uninterested, but considering the literal Queen of Mandalore looked down at you with folded arms and one arched eyebrow, you were less than confident that you looked engrossed in the conversation.

The Queen, Lady Reeves and yourself have been inside a yellow-themed parlor all morning discussing plans for the ball. Your Knight stood patiently by the door, overseeing the entire meeting. You wore a long sleeve dress that was too hot for the summer sun, which was slowly drying out the mud and puddles from then two-day long rainstorm that no one predicted. You spent the entire day yesterday pretending to rest from the exhausting day previous, but you were really hiding your arm from everyone else. You tried to argue with Koska that a long sleeve in the middle of summer would look for more suspicious than a simple bandage on your bicep, but she disagreed to say the least. The Knight stopped limping this morning, although you were convinced he was just faking it for good measure. If others knew he was injured, it could raise suspicion that you were too. You also think he didn’t want you to worry about him. The stab wound really wasn’t that deep, but you knew it had to have hurt more than he was showing. You thought he should take a few days off to rest his leg and to really spend time with his son, but he refused to.

You look up from your emotionless stare out the window, which showed the sea in the distance. The ocean was so different here compared to what it’s like in Corellia. There are sandy beaches and the water’s warm, whereas back home, it’s often frozen over, and is lined with rocky fjords and coves. You wanted to go down to one of those beaches soon if you could. They looked relaxing and much more intruiging than a wordy meeting that you stopped listening in on Lord knows when.

“Sorry, I just… zoned out for a minute.” You clear your throat, looking up at the ginger above you. You bat your eyelashes, trying do play off innocent and truthful. She shrugged, and turned around to pull something out of Koska’s hands.

“I was saying that now that we have the food and decor arranged for the ball, we can talk about the important things.” She says as she whips around for the big reveal that you weren’t expecting: iher arms was the most extravagant, fluffy gown you had ever seen. It was a soft rose gold, the skirt was huge and round, tulle pillowing out from the bodice which had clearly been hand-beaded by nimble fingers to have five-pedaled flowers with curly vines growing out of them. There was a soft sweet-heart neckline, the lace and beading of the bodice came up past the structure to overlap where your skin would be, The sleeves were off the shoulder, which was common for Mandalorian summer gowns. The skirt had a soft hint of sparkles and real diamonds had been sewn into the centers of each flower along the gown.

You perked up as you saw the ornament, your attention being drawn from the crashing waves of the ocean to the prettiest dress you had ever seen. You think you sighed, but you weren’t really sure. Dresses have always been a part of your life, designers from all over the world would send you their best sets, and it’s rare for you to wear the same gown more than once. This isn’t the first time you had been presented with a dress that costed more than some of the houses in the kingdom, but there was something different about it. It had a special glow to it, unlike anything you had ever seen.

“Her Radiance Ahsoka brought it, it’s a wedding gift from the Woodland elves.” Koska speaks up when she sees your reaction. Both her and the Queen were amused at your childlike awe. “That’s why it has that shimmer, they used silk spinners and gold.”

“I… I can’t accept this.” You wanted to, but you were desperately trying to be humble and calm in this situation. The dresses never meant that much to you, it’s just a piece of clothing. You have always been far more into the politics that came with royalty, not the fashion, so this was a first.

“Well of course you can.” The queen chuckled, “It would be rude not to.” You wished you could tell her that wearing such an extravagance would feel in vain because you did not feel affection towards the person you’ll be wearing it for. However, you supposed she was right, it would be rude to turn down a gift from the literal elves. You stand up from where you sat, walking over the dress that took your breath away. You wondered what the Knight thought of it, and you turn around to look at him. You know that he wouldn’t show any type of reaction over this thing, especially if the Queen is watching, but you wanted to show him that you were thinking of him. You smiled, raising your eyebrows to really show how beautiful you thought the gown was, you’ll get to talk about it with him later. This is the second time Koska see’s something like this between the two of you, and she first looks at you, and the knight, raising a sharp eyebrow.

You place your hand over the fabric, running your palm over it. You did nothing to deserve this, but you were honored that it’s yours. “It’s like a faerie’s dress.” You sigh. “It’s wonderful, when can I thank her Radiance?”

“She’s out and about, she usually meditates in the gardens on sunny days, I can retrieve her, if you’d like.” Koska speaks up.

“Oh that’s alright, I’ll find her eventually.” You smile.

“Interesting that you brought up the fae…” The Queen brings up, “Allow me to ask, it is your engagement ball, is there anything specific you would like to have incorporated?” A few days ago, you would have had no answer, because a few days ago there was nothing about Mandalore worth it to you. However, things have changed. You’ve spent sleepless nights thinking about the boy in the beskar armor, and you would give anything to dance with him at that ball. You knew damn well that if you asked nicely, and maybe gave him head in return, he would do almost anything you asked. He would happily dance with you alone in the room after the events of the night, although you weren’t even sure if he knew how to dance. You did want to waltz with him, but not in that way.

So, last night you stayed up late, laying on your back with the balcony doors just cracked open to let in the smell fo fresh rain and a cool breeze into the hot room, thinking about him. You especially thought about the soft skin of his thighs and the way he shuddered when you raked your fingernails down his abdomen. But you also thought about how you could dance with him at the ball, where everyone could see. You knew that you would be dancing with far more people than Korkie, it would be many people’s last (and only) chance to dance with you before you’re married, and so you’re expected to give everyone the opportunity and attention they desired. It wasn’t your favorite thing you’d have to do, especially considering you would be dancing with a number of complete strangers and total creeps of Viziers, Grand Dukes and old viscounts who would probably whisper dirty things in your ear. And that is part of why you wanted this one thing for yourself so badly.

Dancing with a mysterious stranger wouldn’t be a problem. You wanted to share your affection towards him, and you especially wanted him to see you in your true element of balls and parties and gowns and tiaras. You knew it was risky, especially considering you can hardly control yourself around him, who knows what the crowd may be whispering as you dreamily look up at him. But after having to move and change your entire life, marry a man you resent in a kingdom that goes against everything you’ve ever believed in, you owe yourself this one thing. Just this one.

However, dancing with a literal knight would be far too suspicious and obnoxious for the biggest event in the western part of the world. And you knew that he would never remove his helmet, even if his life depended on it. It would be no easy feat to convince him to do something like that in such little time, but that’s when you got the best idea to have possibly ever cross your mind.

When you were just a little girl, your nursery caretaker would sit you on her lap when you had droopy, tired eyes, and read you a story. You can’t remember what it was called, it’s been so long since you heard it, but it was your favorite. It was the tale of the masquerade ball where the young peasant girl fell in love with the handsome magician. You were always drawn into it, because you once hoped you would fall in love with a mysterious and handsome man, too.The point of the story was that she never saw his face, as they both had on extravagant swan masks covering their eyes. If everyone had their face covered, it wouldn’t look suspicious if he did, too. You knew it would be a big thing to ask, and he may not even agree to it if the Queen approves of the short-noticed theme, but you wanted to live at least one night as the young peasant girl.

“Yes, actually.” You began to reply, “I would love for my engagement ball to be a masquerade.” You made sure to add in the ‘my’ to reinstate that it is for you. The Queen stopped to consider what you asked, and Koska looked suprised. It’s rare for anyone to ask the Queen for something like that out flat. But, she was the one who brought it up.

The Queen made you wait in suspense for her answer, and every fiber of your being wanted to turn around and wink at the knight to let him know that you asked for him, but even you, the naive princess, knew that you needed to be more careful with sharing your memories with him when others are around. “I suppose we could arrange that.” She thinks out loud, and you can’t stop the smile that stretches across your face. The Queen really only agreed because she knew it would cause more buzz and conversation around her last event as Queen. Even you could see that, but if it meant you would get a chance to share the memory with your guard, it was worth it.

“Your Majesty, forgive me, but the ball is this weekend, I fear we will not have enough time to prepare for such a change in plans…” Koska spoke up.

“Well, not if we don’t have everyone in the palace working double time,” Both yours and Koska’s faces dropped, that is not what you wanted at all. “Every servant will be required to make ten masks before the ball on Saturday. Knights are exempt, obviously.” She placed the rose gold dress back in Koska’s arms. You immediately felt guilty.

“Oh that won’t be necessary, Your Majesty, I don’t want everyone to-“

“Oh nonsense,” She interrupted, “I love the masquerade idea, it will be grand. It will be the envy of Coruscant.” Was everything a battle for her? An endless contest of who’s the best between Mandalore and Coruscant? If everyone had extra work to do on top of their usual load, you would feel absolutely terrible, but there would be no changing the Queen’s mind. “As the head of the servants, you will oversee the masks, Lady Reeves.” Your face was in shock, pale and sick. Koska shot you an annoyed glare. You tried to respond with an apologetic smile, but the Queen was speaking up again, pacing as she spoke. “Of course we need the royals to stand out from everyone else, we’ll already have our gowns but the masks will make a difference too…” She thought out loud. “Koska I would like an owl mask as per usual, there will be gems incorporated as well I trust?”

“Yes, your Majesty.” She was not amused with her new task.

“As for our little Princess,” She was referring to you, but you couldn’t even listen out of guilt. Everything you tried in Mandalore somehow backfired on you. “Her dress is lovely, but her mask must also be the most extravagant in the room, after mine, of course. It would also be best if hers and my nephew’s matched, Yes?” Koska nodded, struggling to hold the heavy dress with her small stature. “Lovely, aren’t you just full of surprises, Your Highness?” The Queen smiled at you, and you forced a polite smile. “Now, excuse me, I have a designer to meet with to get as many feathers and adornments for masks as possible.” The redhead hastily exits the room, her high guard following her, leaving just you and Koska with your knight.

“What the fuck was that about?” Koska asked afterwards.

“I didn’t mean for any of the extra work to happen, I swear.” You defensively respond.

“You just love giving me a hard time, don’t you?” She asks.

“No- that not at all what-“

“Let her be, Koska.” Your knight steps into the conversation.

“Ugh you knights are so frustrating sometimes.” She rolls her eyes. “I mean, what is going on with you two?” She asks and your heart drops to your ass. Was it that obvious there was something more there? Your knight tensed up, too. “Yeah, I can see exactly what’s going on here. Would either of you like to explain?” She asks.

The two of you stood awkwardly like children who got caught stealing sweets from the kitchen. You wondered how you were going to get out of this one. Your entire world could come crashing down right now if you didn’t play this out correctly, and a thousand outcomes of this situation simultaneously played out in your head. Would she rat you out? Would it lead to your knights expulsion? Or would she keep it to herself? She seemed to have a history with your knight, although you didn’t know what that might be. Maybe she would be on your side, but you highly doubted it.

You blame yourself for all of this. You should have put a stop to all of this long ago, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. He has you tied around your finger, and you like it. You wondered what was going on through his mind, was he as nervous as you? He had to be, if not more worried about what would happen. Someone knowing about your secret relationship would only lead to you getting a tap on your knuckles and then they would try to hide it from society to keep your reputation clean, but it would be the end of his career and safety for him. You were selfish for this, and you knew it.

“What?” Is all your stupid mouth says. As if you hadn’t just had the most sporadic and stressful thought process of your entire life. After all that, the only thing you were able to come up with was “what?”. You thought your body might be shaking, but you weren’t totally sure. You wanted to look at the knight by your side, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Koska must have thought the same thing as you because after you just responded with an arrogant rhetorical question, her eyebrows raised like a mother angry with her teenage son. She scoffs, and walks to the other side of the parlor to place the gown down on a sofa. When her back was turned to you, you were somehow able to muster up the courage to look at the beskar-clad figure to your left. He didn’t look any different than, well, ever. Tall and broad and stoically looking ahead as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. But you knew better. He had to have had a similar thought process to your own. He never turned to look back at you, and that’s when the guilt really set in. This could have been prevented. It should have been prevented. You fiddle with your sleeve.

Koska comes back too soon, her arms folded over her chest and the same unamused look on her stupidly perfect face. “So, one of you better start talking now, or else I’m going to get impatient and go catch up with the Queen to do your chore.” She nods to you. Why was she doing this? What did she gain out of knowing any of this? It could be to protect Korkie, although you found that seriously hard to believe. From what you can tell, Koska could care less about the Mandalorian Prince.

You sigh out of embarrassment mostly, but know that you are the one who needs to speak up. This was your mistake, and so it was your responsibility to fix it. “This is all my fault,” You have to clear your throat after beginning because of how uncomfortably your words sit in your throat. “I take full responsibility for everything. Don’t blame him for anything.” You nod. He turns his head to look at you after you say this, and you wanted nothing more than to look back at him, but Koska had your gaze trapped.

“And what exactly do you mean by ‘everything’ and ‘anything’?” The lady-in-waiting asks.

You sigh again, knowing this was going to be hard to say. “I...allowed myself to be…” You carefully considered your word choice, “i-infatuated with the wrong man.” You finally get out. That was the first time you had said it in front of him, and only the second time you had said it outloud ever, the first being to the Elven Queen last week. “I shouldn’t have let it get so out of hand, but I fell under the spell of this Knight, and I don’t even know his name. I’ve never seen his face. In many ways, he’s a complete stranger to me.” You debated saying the next thing, but it just kind of spilled out, ‘A stranger who’s plagued my thoughts and actions since the day I got here.” It was hard for you to say, but there was something so liberating about saying it.

He never took his eyes off of you the entire time you spoke, but this time you were able to look back at him. Your eyes first looking down at the floor guiltily, and then they slowly make their way up his armor and to the visor on his helmet. You just looked there for a little bit while Koska processed what you were saying. You smiled genuinely at the knight, desperately trying to show him that everything you just said was true. For a moment, you weren’t sure if she was going to say anything at all, and the room fell silent.

“Well…” She begins, you can’t hear any disappointment in her tone yet, “You’re terrible at hiding it.” She sighs. Of all the things she could have said, you did not expect that.

“What?” You say like an absolute idiot for the second time. You look back at the woman.

“Look, I’ve known him for a long time.” She shakily breathes, looking at him, “We’ve actually been through a lot together.” He was still looking at you, “And honestly, Neither of us were ever cut out for the Royal life we’ve been living for a while now.” You wondered what she meant by that. “And to be frank, I could care less about your personal life.” She said to you about you, “But since he’s a friend, and you really don’t mean very much to me, no offense,”

“None taken.”

“I suppose I’ll just keep it to myself-“

The relief that overcame your body was unmatched. You can’t stop the grin that goes from ear to ear or the sigh of relief that danced on your lips and out of your lungs. You look over at him, who still hasn’t looked away from your face, but he sighs of relief, too. You see it in the way his armor shifts.

“-Under one condition.”

“Okay…”

“You have to start hiding it better, no more over the shoulder glances. Okay? This is me looking out for him.” She gestures to him with a nod. Was she really going to do this for you?

“No more glances, got it.” You repeat.

“There’s no telling what might happen to him if the wrong person finds out.” She clears her throat, and that statement scares you. You try not to let it take up too much of your thought. “And you have to act like nothing is different. You’re still engaged to the Prince and you’re still the future Queen-consort. I don’t give a damn about what happens behind closed doors, but when others are around you have to behave yourselves. This is me looking out for my kingdom, understood?”

“Understood.” You nod back, although you weren’t the biggest fan of that condition, you knew that was the price you had to pay to get what you wanted… well at least what you think you wanted. “You’re not going to tell the Queen?”

“If you do those things, she won’t hear a word about it.” Koska shrugs.

“And what about Korkie?”

“Stars, I cannot stand that boy. I don’t even talk to him.” She rolls her eyes and you chuckle. You’re happy you aren’t the only one who feels that way about the prince. “But I’m not going to cover or lie for you two, I’m not going to help you hide it or anything. Alright?”

“Of course.” You reply.

“Great. I have over five-hundered masks to make by Saturday, so I’ll be leaving now.” She finished and on her way out, she pushes the knight on the shoulder playfully.

The door closes.

“Stars.” You clear your throat and turn to look at him, before you can say anything, though, he’s picking you up by the waist, throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of weightless flour, and carrying you over to the second sofa that isn’t taken up by a ridiculously large dress. You giggle when he does, blushing at his enthusiasm. You’re placed on your back and he kneels between your legs.

“You’re excited.” You chuckle and he hums in response. There isn’t very much room on the sofa but he makes his place. He then grabs the hem of your dress, pulling it up over first your thighs, then up past your hips, over the corset and up to your face. He covers your eyes with the skirt and it hides the cheesiest smile on your face. light still poured in from the fabric, but you weren’t able to see anything.

You then heard the sound of metal being placed on the floor next to you, and to your pleasant surprise, his lips and pressed tightly to yours through the fabric. The kiss obviously doesn’t make any contact, but you’ve learned that with the knight, it’s the thought that always counts. You’re smiling into the kiss like a dork, and you shudder when you feel his bare hands against your bare thighs. He pulls your legs open, and then pulls away from your separated kiss.

Your first moan comes when you feel his lips against your soft thighs. He licks up and down your right thigh first, his fingertips strong and faithful against the outer part of your legs. Your breathing hitches, and you hum with pleasure when he moves to your left thigh, taking the same amount of time to kiss, nibble and suck on your pillowy skin.

Then, before you can think any more about the heat and want in between your legs, he’s pulling down your petticoat painfully slow. You bite your lip, you knew where he was headed with this, and you were more than happy to welcome it. His index and middle finger run soft lines around your cunt, massaging the swollen and wet skin around your opening that only got wetter. Your clit begged for attention, but your arms were trapped under the position of the dress skirt, and you didn’t want to risk adjusting it in a way that would make him stop. You would have to patiently wait as he teased and prodded your lips, his free hand rubbing your thigh and occasionally making its way to firmly squeeze your ass cheek. Your breathing was needy and short as he took his time to get to know your core with the tips of his fingers, which were now wet and slick and making the friction smoother.

He then gently places a light kiss on your clit. It’s so soft that you’re only able to feel it because of how sensitive and hungry you are for that type of contact. You slightly finch when his lips touch the nerve, and you’re able to feel him smile against your skin. What you would give to see his face right now…. Then, before you can think any more, he’s licking a flat stripe up from the bottom of your cunt up to your clit where he flicks three times with the tip of his tongue. You gasp at the sensation, and try to suppress a moan. He then take his time to lick each separate lip of your sex, avoiding your actual opening but teasing in such an addictive way that you were willing to be patient for him.

The knight then finally wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, pulsing with his lips and flicking back and forth quickly with the tip of his tongue. You do moan this time, a broken cry falling off of your needy lips. It was a euphoric feeling unlike anything you’ve experienced before and you loved every moment of it. His arms wrap around your upper thighs, holding you in place around his head as he moves down to lap at your pussy lips. He moans at the taste of you, diving his tongue into your folds and prodding your sensitive clit with his nose.

You whine short and quietly as he does, biting your lip and bucking your hips every now and then as he took care of your sex. He must have gone down on you for close to ten minutes straight, never coming up for fresh air and never stopping the steady pace he had. You aren’t sure how you didn’t cum immediately at the feeling of his plump lips against your clit, but you also aren’t sure how you didn’t blackout from the sheer pleasure of the feeling. It was addictive, and it only got better after he pulled away to spit on your cunt. He spits onto your folds and then brings his fingers up again to start fingering you, sliding in his pointer finger with no resistance and slowly pumping it in and out. His mouth finds its way back to your slit, sucking on it as he fingers you. The sound was filthy, it filled the parlor with wet, obscene noises accompanied by breathy moans and gentle hums. Every time he hummed against your clit, your back arched from the added pleasure. The vibrating of it was pure euphoric, and you knew you were a sopping mess in between your thighs.

His chin was wet from spit and arousal and for one quick moment he pulled his wet mouth away from your core to kiss and rub the juices of your cunt on your thighs. He nibbles a few times on either thigh, marking each with a litter of purple and red hickeys. Before adding a second finger, he pulls his hand out to gently and playfully slap your cunt. He uses his wet hand to tap your core five or six times, each tap getting harder. You moan out at the feeling, and squeeze your legs together against the feeling in a horny attempt to get more pleasure from the moment.

“Huh, would you look at that?” He asks, his voice low and hungry and full of lust. It’s the first thing he’s said in a while, and the indulgence of the oral sex cause you to nearly forget how much you loved his rough voice. “Do you like it when I slap your cunt?” You whine in response. “With your words, Princess.”

“Yes, Sir.” You whine like a bitch. He chuckles and slaps it again, harder this time. You shudder at the feeling and feel your climax coming on. You want to delay it for as long as possible, but your thighs start to shake when he puts his mouth back in you and pushed both his index and middle finger into your opening, pumping and curling and twisting his wrist to make the most wonderful combination of finger-fucking you could of have imagined.

“I’m gonna cum.” You barely get out before your spine is burning and your stomach is flexing as you cum hard and long against his tongue and on his fingers. You cry out in broken, heavenly bliss, and look for something to grasp onto as you hit your high, but you can’t find anything, which leads to your sporadic back arches. You’re panting, and he doesn’t stop kissing against your core while you cum on his tongue. You bite your lip and swear you might make it bleed a little. His grip on your thighs tightens while he pulls you against his mouth, preventing you from pulling away from the addictive exhilaration that is his kiss.

He licks you through the entire orgasm, and then some after. You think you’re being over-stimulated but you never have been before, so you aren’t really sure. Just when you think he’s going to stop, he doesn’t and he just takes his sweet old time lapping against your core and slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you. You sharply breath in, your chest heaving against the dress and you desperately want to pull your dress down to see him and breath freshly again. The way he eats you out is so methodical, like he’s done it a thousand times (which wouldn’t necessarily surprise you), like it’s the only thing he’s ever eaten or the sweetest honey to ever grace his lips.

It begins to turn you on again, the pleasure shooting into your spine and down your littered thighs and melting against your clit. You can feel the gentle rub of his fingers against your thighs, stroking your skin as he takes you in. It’s heavenly and is the only thing you can think about. Your thoughts go numb and the only important thing in the entire world is the curly-haired boy at your expense.

You mutter and whisper swears, dirty words that aren’t meant to come out of a princess’ mouth but you can’t help it when you’re seeing white hot behind your eyes. He groans a few times too before his fingers speed back up to the pace they were at before you came the first time. Your dainty hands stroke lightly on your collar-bones as the pleasure fills your soul, licking your lips and trying to hold on for as long as possible before you cum again but you can already feel your second orgasm coming on. He uses a third finger to outline your lips, coating the tip in your slick and then slowly inserting the third and final finger into your cunt, helping you chase that final hit of release. The stretch is amazing, and you were surprised you were able to take it so well. This is when you realized that he’s been training you for something much bigger. The first time he fingered you wasn’t even any penetration, the second time was two fingers, just enough to stretch you that it hurt the right amount, and now this time, three fingers that felt amazing. You remembered the size of his cock, you knew it would be a challenge to take, but he was making sure you would be able to handle it and enjoy it as much as he will.

His focus goes from licking your clit to the fingers inside. He twists his wrist to make the curl and stretch your entrance. He collects the wetness and lets it make the glide and pump smoother. You’re so drenched and needy that the fluid is running out past his fingers and dripping onto the sofa cushion, staining it with your lust. He nips so slightly at your clit and just like that, your whole world comes crashing down. The orgasm is actually mind-numbing this time, and all you can do is moan and sob and claw at your own skin. Your scratch into your shoulders and collar-bone and it’s deliciously painful. Your thighs clamp against his head and he continues to finger you long and hard through the climax, cleaning your folds up as you cum against his tongue and fingers. You’re finally able to catch your breath, painting with droopy, lustful eyes but feeling completely fulfilled. He cleans up all the juices around your entrance, collecting the cum on his tongue and happily swallowing it down like it’s his last meal. You aren’t able to see it, but he then puts his fingers into his mouth, cleaning off the three that were knuckle-deep into your cunt. He groans at the taste, and wipes his mouth before planting one last, gentle kiss to the soft, angelic skin of the mound between your legs. You're so sensitive that the light kiss makes you flinch, and he chuckles at the involuntary reaction.

He puts his helmet back on and then pulls your dress skirt down to see your face. You’re surprised by the light initially, and you blink a few times to adjust to it. Your lungs fill with crisp air and you look at your favorite sight: the helm of the knight you think you’re falling in love with. You can’t stop the smile on your face. He chuckles and then readjusts your dress to cover you up better. He takes such good care of you. You see him freeze when he sees the scratch marks on your skin, and his bare hand softly runs over the red lines, outlining the marks. You blush at him, looking up at his expressionless face with a puppy-love look.

“Everytime I think it can’t get any better, you prove me wrong.” You sigh. Every orgasm has been better than the last.

“Just you wait.” You hear the smirk under the helmet and it causes butterflies to flutter in your tummy. You sigh, still catching your breath and you just take him in, looking up at how he’s propped up above you. He has hands on either side of your head and he’s just a brudding force of metal and sex and good kissing and caring about things that you didn’t even know you needed someone to care about. You probably look like a dork just smiling up at him but you don’t even care and now your hands are free to wrap around his neck and you just wish you could see his face and kiss it all over right now.

Your fingers lock behind his neck and the positioning of his armor and the way his head is bent makes it so you can just barely feel the skin of his neck. You move your index fingers up to look for the curls at the nape of his neck. You think you could sing out when you found the prize: some strands of dark, brown, thick hair hidden under the helmet. You twirl them around your fingers and that action alone is worth a million kisses. The feeling in your heart is second to none and you wished you could stay in this still moment forever.

“Did you mean what you said?” He speaks up in reference to what you told Koska about him.

“Every word of it.” You state, genuinely meaning it as you said it. He did respond but something told you he was smiling under all that armor. He sighs, and then lets his arms go weak so he’s falling onto you. You groan at the surprise and the sheer weight of both his broad body and the heavy armor on top. The air is pushed out of your lungs but at least he’s pressed into you, your hands still toying with his curly hair. You can hear him chuckle, and you wanted to freeze time.

“Someone’s gonna see us if we stay like this.” He mutters as you tilt your head to have it rest on top of his helmet.

“Then let them.”

He doesn’t reply to what you say, and you debate if it was even the right thing to say. When you’ve gotten everything you’ve ever wanted, it’s hard to grasp the concept that someone may not want the same thing. You’re selfish for not caring about his safety and status in these types of situations. He grunts as he pushes himself back up and stands again, leaving only you on the sofa.

“How’s the arm?”

“It’s fine.” You roll your eyes, you don’t want everyone to worry so much anymore.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” You reply more forcefully this time, sitting up on the couch.

“Just making sure.”

“Yeah, yeah…” You sigh, and consider your next words, “I was wondering if I could ask you something.” You sit with your palms flat against the cushion, making aware of the wet spot on the fabric and smirking fondly at it.

“Anything, your Highness.” He nods.

“Well… I wondered if maybe I could teach you how to dance?” You were nervous about what his response may be.

“Oh Stars-“ He chuckles.

“What!?”

“I had a feeling that masquerade might have something to do with me.” He puts his hands on his hips like he’s scolding you but there’s a guilty part of you that you like about it.

“Well it isn’t just about you.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“...no.” He already knew you so well. He chuckles at your response. “So… what’s your answer?”

“Dancing isn't my style…”

“I don’t believe that.” You tilt your head. “Come on, it’s super easy and it would mean a lot to me.” You try convincing. He sighs and considers what you’re offering. “I can give you something in return…” You bite your lip, teasing. He chuckles just once.

“Alright-”

“What!? Really??” You stand up from excitement, you weren’t really expecting him to agree.

“But, only if you let me teach you something in return.” You nod in agreement, your hands coming to fold in your lap. You were expecting him to refer to something sexual, but his words prove you wrong, “I wanna teach you how to fight.”

“What?” Why would you ever need that?” It’s rare for royals to learn such a skill, especially princesses. You understood that it would be valuable, but you weren’t completely sure if you were up to the task.

“Well more than anything, I want to teach you how to defend yourself. So something like Keldabe doesn’t happen again.”

“Okay…” You were tentative to agree.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” You shrug, “If it means I get to dance with you at the ball, I would be more than happy to learn.”

“Great. Let’s start then.” He takes a step back and holds his hand out for you to take.

“What?” You place your palm in his and he pulls you up off the couch, “right now?”

“Yes, c’mere.” You were nervous and honestly your legs were still weak from cumming twice, but you follow him as he begins to talk. “I’ll just teach you a few things and then you can teach me how to dance I guess.”

“Stop being a pill.” You tease.

“Only if you stop, too.” He teases right back at you which leads to a scoff from your lips. He ignores you. “When you're defending yourself, you always wanna protect your face, okay?”

“Protect my face, got it.” You repeat. He holds his arms up in front of his helmet, his hands fisted.

“Mimic my pose.” You roll your eyes but mirror him, holding your arms to guard your face. “See, is that so hard?”

“Shut up.”

“Yes ma’am.” He sarcastically replies. “You can’t do much if you can’t see, so that’s why you gotta protect your face. If you wore a helmet you wouldn’t need to do this.”

“But I would always be wearing a helmet…”

“It’s not so bad.” He shrugs.

“Something tells me that you don’t believe that.” You drop your arms from your face to say that, which was obviously a mistake, because instead of responding to your claim (which was probably right), he's jabbing his arm out towards your face. He’s not close enough to hit you but the quick and unexpected action is enough to startle you back. You lose your balance and fall down on the ground, wincing when you hit the ground and regretting agreeing to this. Your arms wrap into a frustrated position and you frown up at him. You look up at him surprised and a little pissed, and he just starts laughing. “What was that?”

“You let your guard down.” He says between laughs. He does hold his hand out for you to help you back up, and you take it to your own dismay. He hoists you up quickly, and you have to re-establish your balance.

“You are impossible.” You put your arms back over your face, ready to try again.

“You like it.”

“Are you gonna teach me or not?” He wasn't wrong but you figured you’d have to try and beat him at his own game.

“Are you gonna let me?”

“Just go.” You roll your eyes again.

“This will also protect your ribs. Can’t do much if the wind is knocked out of you, either.” He explains. “You also want to stand wide, it’ll help you keep your balance.” He kicks your feet out to be shoulder width which breaks every rule in the book of princess manners. “And prevent… falling on the floor.”

“This isn’t exactly easy to do in a corset, you know.” You argue.

“And dancing won’t be easy in armor but here we are.” He shrugs, and you suppose he’s right. Neither of you are cut out for the tasks at hand. “When fighting someone without armor, you’re gonna want to go for their face, their eyes are vulnerable and you can do real damage on their nose.”

“Okay….” You try to remember what he was saying, making a mental note for any future situations, although you’re still skeptical. “And what about someone with armor on?” You ask, trying not to show the smirk on your face.

“Well the guy in Keldabe did everything right, he found where the weak points of my armor was and attacked them-“

“So here?” You ask before reeling back your arm and swinging it as hard as you can into his shoulder where there was only chain mail. Your fist crashes into the metal, and you immediately regret it. “Shit!” You pull your hand back and look at your bright red knuckles, shaking your hand a few times as you try to brush the shock away.

“...Yeah, right there.” On the bright side, he seemed to be surprised by it enough that he made a little groan from the contact that turned you on way more than it should have. “But now you fucked up your hand.”

“You think?” You place the angry knuckles at your mouth, trying not to be too upset about the pain shooting through your hand.

“Punching chainmail is always gonna hurt, especially if you do it wrong… like that.”

“So how do I do it right!?” You’re determined now. No one has ever put you in your place, you’ve always gotten what you wanted, and you wanted to prove to him that you could do it.

“Why are you so eager to inflict pain on me?” He asks, you can hear the teasing in his tone but you can’t blame him for feeling that way. Perhaps you did come off a little anxious.

“I don’t know… I guess I just want to prove something to you.” You sigh, still pissed off by the pain in your hand. You’re so distracted by it that you hardly notice him walking towards you. His gentle and soft bare hands take your fist away from your mouth. You’re tentative at first, but let him take it in his hand, cupping it in between his and looking down at your red skin. You frown mostly out of frustration, but the pain is unlike anything you’ve experienced before. Princesses aren’t supposed to feel pain.

Before you can blink, he pulls his top hand away and takes it to lift up his helmet just above his lips. The angle makes it so you can’t see any of his face but you understand. He bends down and kisses your knuckles in the same fashion one would when greeting you, but this was so much more intimate. His lips were like satin against your skin and the butterflies in your stomach fly right back. The physical pain didn’t go away, but the anger around it did. Your heart softened and wished he would kiss your lips but he’s already pulling the beskar back over his jaw. You sigh from the gesture, he was so romantic and you don’t even think he’s trying to be. He’s just trying to be kind and patient with you and it’s doing something to your heart that you don’t know if you can handle anymore.

“So… how do you waltz?” He asks, his hand still holding onto yours. You smile and sheepishly look down at your feet. You were unsure of how to begin, but were happy he was willing to learn.

“Okay.” You smile, “Well, you first need to loosen up. Stop being so stiff.” He tilts his head like you’re speaking a foreign language. “Like this.” You press your hands down on his shoulder pauldrons, he tries to rest them but fails and you chuckle just a little. “Roll them back.” You explain and do it yourself, he attempts to follow, and actually is able to relax a little bit more this time. Knights are always so stiff, you think it will be good for him to relax every now and then. “Good, now this hand goes here…” You lift his right hand to rest on your waist and he immediately settles into it, already feeling more comfortable now that he is holding you. You place your left hand on his shoulder, pulling your bodies a little closer together. He wanted your torsos to be flush against one another, “No, we have to keep our distance so we have room to do the steps.” You explain.

“Well that’s no fun.” He sighs. You blush and giggle.

“If we get this done I promise you can hold me as long as you want.” You tilt your head trying to make a fair compromise.

“Fine.” He’ll take it.

“Great, now we hold these hands.” You take his left hand and hold it into yours. “That’s the basic position, I learned it as home position, got it?”

“Home position…?” He repeats.

“Mhm.” You nod, your faces are close and you would give anything to feel his breath against yours. “It’s important that we sort of… ‘glide’ like we bounce as we dance, it will make it prettier.” He was convinced you were always pretty no matter what you tried or did, but we guessed he would comply this time. Your voice goes quiet and soft, the mood immediately changing from teasing to harmonious. “And your feet… okay this is sort of complicated but your left foot will go forward as my right goes back-“ You keep looking down at the floor as you try to explain the steps but his gaze is on your face, hardly listening to what you're saying and only being engulfed in your face and the way you talked about doing something you loved. You were so beautiful and you didn’t even know it.

You must have been talking for a while without really listening to yourself because he was slowly pulling you into his torso and closing the space without you really noticing that you were inches closer than you were before. “-and then your left foot will slide to meet your right foot-“ the last word fades out as you slowly look back up to his face which was now up close to yours, your bodies pressed together and both of his hands on your hips, his thumb rubbing soft circles into your back. Your heart skips a beat and you forget how to breathe as you look up at him and it just felt… right.

Your hands lift from his pauldron to his helmet and you want to take it off so badly. You knew it was too fast still, and he would remove his helmet for you when he felt like he could. At least that’s what you hoped for. It should be his decision, no one else’s. But your hands are grazing the bottom of the beskar and everything feels so right. He’s so still and his breath is quiet and for just a moment you think he might let you and then-

The door knob is turning slowly and both of you are splitting away all too fast, trying to make enough space between the two of you so it didn’t look suspicious. You both scramble, trying to put yourselves back together. The still and perfect moment was entirely gone when Prince Korkie opened up the door into the parlor. You tried not to look too shocked when his stupid perfect hair and young face looked on you. The knight held his hands behind his back to hide the fact that they were bare and side-eyed the gloves on the sofa that laid by the wet stain on the cushion. He silently prayed that the Prince wouldn’t notice them.

“Ah, princess I was wondering where you were.” He looked between the two of you. He didn’t seem too suspicious, thank the stars.

“Korkie! What are you doing?” You awkwardly laugh. Your hands fold at waist level, and you fix your posture.

“Did… I walk in on something?” He asks and your whole body goes numb. You swallow and try not to pass out. The truth is yes, he did walk in on something very important to you, but here we are.

“Oh! No, we were just…” You search around the room looking for something to take the attention away from you and the knight, “Admiring the beautiful dress the Elves gave me!” You walk to the heavy, iridescent gown on the clean sofa, picking it up to show him. You smile desperately, hoping that would be enough.

“Ah yes! It is beautiful, isn’t it?” He nods, smiling. You sigh of relief when he falls for the bait. You set the dress back down.

“Can I do anything for you?” You ask,a king sure there was no attention on the knight being you.

“I… just wanted to spend a bit of time with you. My aunt informed me of the changes to the Ball. What a wonderful idea!”

“Why thank you.” You smile, taking a few steps towards him in a hopeless attempt to not seem so suspicious.

“Yes! I had just received the RSVPS from a number of the guests. Your parents, the twins of Naboo, the senator of Alderaan and Princess of Chandrila and I’m pleased to say that we’ve found no suspicion of any attack from Coruscant!” Stars, he talks a lot. You aren’t sure how he can have any more breath to talk. You were starting to decide that you liked the boys who were more reserved.

Well… one boy.

“Oh… Um, of course. That’s great news.” You nod and finish your walk towards him, suddenly hyper-aware of the fading scratches on your collar bone.

“Come with me, we should review the letters together.” You look back at the knight apologetically before walking into the hallway with the Prince. This isn’t exactly how you hoped your afternoon would go...

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Part ten

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sockablock · 4 years ago

Text

(TW for panic attacks and discussions about trauma)

— — —

The thing is, Beau's friends are shit fighters.

To be clear—she's not saying that they're bad at fighting, gods know Veth's a force of nature with her crossbow and all of the spell-slingers can kill with a word—it's just that when it comes to fighting, actual fighting, that down-and-dirty fist-on-flesh shit, her friends suck. Most of 'em just run, or they’d sweet-talk a surrender, or go back to slinging spells.

Beau would never admit she misses the Soul, but at least those people knew how to block. At least Dairon would make her work for it, wouldn't tell her to please, gods, Beau, stop punching me, I give!

Fjord's better these days, but not good enough.

Which is why, on their third morning back in Nicodranas, when Beau opens the door to see Yasha looking restless, she knows exactly what's up.

"Should I get my staff?"

Yasha shrugs. She usually does.

"I'll grab it. Down in five."

Beau considers grabbing some toast too, but she remembers how antsy Yasha seemed and figures she should try to avoid puking in Marion’s yard.

Yasha is stretching when she gets there. The gate swings behind her with a gentle clunk, and she kicks her shoes off, curls her toes in the grass. The sun is barely broken above rooftops and towers, and the first chime of church bells ring out overhead.

Beau yawns a little, but it’s just for flavor. Mind games. She’s not actually sleepy.

“We do not have to—”

She quickly waves her hand. “It’ll wake me up. You know, get the blood pumping.”

Yasha smiles a little at that. It’s always such a small one, but it’s getting to be familiar.

“I got up early. I couldn’t sleep. Er...sorry.”

Beau doubles her effort to be dismissive. “Don’t apologize to me, Yasha. C’mon. You think I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to?”

This seems to be a winning argument. Yasha nods, like she can’t imagine Beau doing anything she doesn’t want.

Maybe it’s the crisp ocean breeze, maybe it’s the way they circle each other in the yard. Maybe it’s the fresh brush of gauze on her fists.

Beau wants to win.

She dives in, pulls low, uses her quick movement to catch Yasha off-guard and get in as closely as she can. Yasha’s tall, broad, strong as an ox, and even holding back, she could wind Beau with a punch. She presses even closer, limiting Yasha’s motions, sweeps out a leg and cuts up when Yasha moves. The two of them duck and weave and push, neither allowing the other an inch, fists flying, blows being blocked and sweat beginning to pour down their backs. Beau lands a hit that leaves Yasha grunting, then stumbles when a wild haymaker knocks her back. It’s clear that Yasha was never taught any form, just scraped it all together by surviving on the moors and her chaotic movement, high endurance, and reckless confidence just make her deadlier.

Beau tries to close in again, but a lucky kick forces her a pace too far. Her knuckles are bruising in that numb, seething way, and so she darts to the side, grabs her staff, vaults up and then arcs her foot to Yasha’s face—

The dance starts again, this time hardwood hitting forearms and on anyone else, Beau might even feel guilty about it. But Yasha barely seems to register the thwack, her teeth bared in a sideways grin, her eyes hard and excited and alive. Beau’s probably wearing the same expression. She hears herself laughing, and knows that she is. Up-swing, down-swing, slide left, throw a punch, block one, dart back, duck and then—

Yasha’s fist catches her right in the gut, sends Beau lurching flat into the dirt. She chokes her own breath, coughs up dust, barely gets an elbow up with Yasha leaning over her, blotting out the sun, raising Beau’s staff for a finishing strike—

Halts.

It’s like watching a tower fall. Yasha staggers back. She drops the staff. She lifts her hands and stares at her palms and Beau hears a mangled breath. Her knees give. She collapses on herself.

Beau scrambles up, aching limbs forgotten.

“Yasha?” she says. “Yasha? Are you—is—what’s wrong?”

Yasha sucks in more air, but that just seems to make things worse. Her shoulders tremble and her lungs sound ragged.

“Aw, shit,” says Beau, “I mean—fuck—uh—”

She half-runs, half-crawls, ‘til she’s at Yasha’s side. She wants to put her hand on Yasha’s arm, thinks better of it, panics a little more. She wishes she were Jester. She wishes she were Cad. They’d know what to do, they’d be better at this than her, anyone, hell, Marius would be better at this than her—

But it’s her, and everyone’s still in the house, so she shakes her head and stamps the fear down.

“Yasha, I...aw, fuck, I’m—I’m here, it’s okay, nothing’s wrong—” clearly something is wrong, idiot, “—I mean, um, you’re safe here, okay? It’ll be alright. I’m here, and I’ll stay if that’s what you want, okay? I won’t go anywhere, if you don’t want. Uh...can you shake your head if you want me to go? Is that...possible, can you—”

A frantic shake.

“Oh good, okay, thank fuck, then I’m here. I’m right here, Yash. I’m not going anywhere.” She tries to pitch her voice calm, takes deep, long breaths, and continues to murmur as reassuringly as she can until after...seconds? Minutes? Yasha’s trembling slows.

There’s a pause. Yasha inhales and lets it go. It’s shaky, but apparently good enough because finally, eventually, she turns and looks back at Beau.

“I’m...okay. I am okay.”

Beau sinks back into the grass. Then she lies down. “Oh, cool. I’m, uh, glad.”

“I’m so—”

She holds up a hand. “Nope. C’mon.” She pats the ground beside her.

“Er...what?”

She pats it again, emphatic. “Lie down. C’mon. I think we’ve earned a break.”

She stares up at the sky while Yasha shifts around, and eventually there’s a gentle thud as she lies down. Seagulls cry in the distance and clouds drift slowly past their heads.

Beau swears, but mentally. A private thing.

“So, uh...do we...want to talk about it, or...?”

Yasha is quiet for a moment. That’s not surprising. Then:

“It...reminded me of when I killed you.”

“What? Oh—”

“Almost killed you,” Yasha amended. “Both times.”

“Right,” says Beau. “That’s...right.”

She thinks about saying—almost. You only almost killed me, so really it’s fine. There’s nothing to worry about. And you kill people all the time anyway, right?

She blinks. “Wait, you kill people all the time, Yasha. Is it always that bad? Shit, does it always...does it always make you feel like this? Only...I don’t think I’ve ever seen you...break like that...”

She regrets the words immediately. Stupid, Beau, that’s a stupid thing to say.

But Yasha answers the question earnestly. “It’s usually different,” she says to the sky. “It usually...doesn’t matter. Er...no, not that it doesn’t matter, it just...”

“Doesn’t matter,” Beau sighs. “No, I...sort of get it. Man, that might be fucked up. Of us.”

Yasha shrugs, which rustles the grass. “It’s how it has always been for me. That is just what life is like.”

“I’m sure Jester would disagree.”

“Jester is...nice. I am not. I...have hurt a lot of people. And not just people who were fighting me, or trying to hurt me, but people who were innocent, who did not need not to be hurt, people who care about me, and, and people who I...”

She trails off. Beau can’t see her face, but right now, selfishly, she is glad for it. She feels anger bubbling up in her stomach.

“You were being controlled,” she says fiercely. “You didn’t do it. Someone made you do it.”

“But...part of that...part of it was still me. Since...since you all freed me, I...I remember parts of it. I remember doing it. Those were my hands.”

Beau can practically hear Yasha’s fist tighten. She definitely feels it when Yasha hits the ground.

“If I was better, or if I was stronger, if I had broken free faster, none of that would have happened, I could have stopped him sooner—”

This time, Beau doesn’t hold back. They’re lying down, so it’s incredibly awkward, but the first thing she can think of is to grab Yasha’s hand.

She sits up, and waves it over Yasha’s face.

“But you didn’t,” she says, then falters, then wants to smack herself. “Fuck, no, that’s not what I mean. What I mean is...” Then she stops. “No, you know what? Fuck it. You didn’t break out faster. And that’s because it was a miracle you managed it in the first place. Yasha, you were being controlled by a devil. You were being controlled by the Chained Oblivion. The fact that you were even a person the first time we met—and you were a person, you were funny, you charged me money to, to, well, you charged me five gold, remember that?”

Yasha blinks. Her wrist is slack in Beau’s grip.

“I...do, yes, I remember that.”

“Right. The fact that you were a person then meant that they couldn’t keep their claws in you. Because you were strong. You were better. Better than everything they tried to make you. You kept breaking free.”

Yasha does not try to squirm away, only stays there.

“But...I needed help every time that I did escape. I never managed it on my own. First it was...it was Kord, and then you all—”

“Of course!” Beau throws her other arm into the air. “Who the fuck could do it on their own?! All that means is that when you had a chance, the second you had a chance, you were outta there. In your heart, you knew what was right. You knew it, and held onto it, even when I’m sure it would’ve been so easy to stay there, to stay in that hell and just go through the motions and lose yourself in...in grief, and loss and...and all that. But you didn’t. And now look at you.”

She cracks a goofy smile, all desperation to make what she’s trying to say heard.

“You’re an angel, Yasha. Remember?”

Yasha slowly sits up too. Her hair cascades down her shoulders, black turning white, with little blades of grass.

Beau is made painfully aware of the fact that she’s still holding Yasha’s hand. She lets go. Then she swears again, and hopes that Yasha doesn’t think it’s because of anything s—

“I am, aren’t I?”

Her gaze shoots up and Yasha's wearing a goofy smile too. Small, a bit nervous, but real and warm.

It’s getting to be familiar.

Beau snorts. She snorts so loud that it might dislodge something in her chest. She hits Yasha gently on the arm.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t, uh, don’t let it go to your head.”

She can see Yasha nodding in the corner of her eye.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Then, after a brief battle over whether or not to bring it up, “I don’t...I don’t...for the record, I’m not mad about you stabbing me. Or whatever.”

Yasha looks stricken, and Beau regrets it instantly. “Shit, should I not have reminded you of—”

“No,” Yasha sighs, and her face softens. “No. I am...glad that you are not mad at me.”

“Should we, like...go to a cleric about this?” Beau asks. “Is this going to be something that happens in, like...fights? Because if it does, it might put you in danger. Also, it’s...it probably sucks for you. Right?”

Fjord would probably have something to say about the way she’s handling this conversation. He’s not here now.

“I...don’t know,” Yasha says eventually. “It hasn’t happened before. It was only...just now. And...just with you. It...hurting you reminded me of being controlled. It...brought me back to all the times that my mind was not my own.”

“I’m sorry,” Beau says, because she’s not sure what else to say.

“No,” says Yasha. Beau looks up, surprised by the weight in her words. “If I am not allowed to be sorry to you, you cannot be sorry to me.”

“Ah,” says Beau. She feels a grin pulling. “In that case...I’m not sorry.”

Yasha nods, like this is sacred, and Beau can’t help but snort again.

“C’mon,” she says. “We can...work this shit out later. Or start to. With a cleric if you want, or not, if you don’t. But I just got my ass kicked, and I’m thirsty. What do you say to some drinks? I think there’s juice. Do you like juice?”

She stands up, and sticks out a hand.

Yasha takes it.

“Okay. I like juice.”

— — —

✨ Ko-Fi Link in Bio! ✨ | Requests are OPEN

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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years ago

Text

With you - Harry Styles

❄️ FANFICmas 2020 ❄️

Read more about FANFICmas here!

fanficmas week 2! i really hope you guys are enjoying the holiday content! updated the fanficmas post with the title of next week’s fic and im working hard on more content, hopefully i’ll have more time when i finish school next week. take care!

word count: ~2k

masterlist

Getting into a relationship so close to the holidays is a pain in the ass. There are just so much unexplored territory, it makes an already stressful time even harder. What do you buy them? Do you spend it together? Do you take them home to your family? Do they want you to meet their family? There really should be a manual to answer all these questions, because it really works up your anxiety.

When you made things official with Harry just a short month before Christmas, you didn’t think about all these things, but once you were able to see from the pink clouds around you, realization hit you hard. These were all crucial questions and you were afraid to ask them straight. What if you disagree on one? What if you want him to meet your family, but he feels rushed? The two of you only dated for a few weeks before he finally asked you to be his girlfriend. You could jump and scream from happiness, but then you realized what it means for the holidays and now you are stressing out.

Harry however knows you well enough to notice that something is off, so one evening, when you’re on the phone he softly asks.

“Love, everything alright?” you hear his soft murmur through the phone.

“Yeah, why are you asking?” you say, trying your best to sound convincing.

“Because the moment I brought Christmas up you started giving one word answers. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Your heart aches, he is such a sweetheart. You can’t just put it all aside hoping for the best, you need to be mature and just communicate your fears. Hopefully, he won’t think you’re crazy for stressing on such things.

“I’m just… a little anxious about the holidays.”

“Okay, talk to me. What’s gotten you feeling that way?”

“I’m just not sure what we should do.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we haven’t talked about what happens on Christmas. Do you want me to meet your family? Do you want to meet mine? Do we celebrate together or meet after the holidays?”

You hear a soft chuckle on the other end of the call and you huff to yourself. Good to know, he finds it entertaining.

“Love, don’t stress about it, alright? We can talk about it now. But there’s no wrong answer, okay?”

“Do you really mean that?”

“I do. I know it’s our first Christmas together, a kind of important step, so I just want to make sure you’re comfortable with whatever we come up with.”

“You are literally making it so hard for me to comprehend that you’re real when you are so caring and loving Harry,” you mumble in the phone, earning another chuckle from him. Moments like this, when he acts like a real prince charming just makes you unable to wrap your head around the fact that you are dating this man. He is your boyfriend and you are his girlfriend. Unbelievable!

The two of you talk it through and come up with a plan for the holidays. Dinner at your parents’ on the 25th, lunch with his family on the 26th and then ice-skating in the evening, just the two of you.

Now that you have cleared it all, you just worry about one thing: not to do anything during the holidays that would make him want to leave you right away.

Dinner at your parents’ goes by smoothly, it’s not a surprise Harry wraps both of them around his fingers, you were kind of expecting it beforehand. Besides, your mom was already so excited to meet your charming new boyfriend, he doesn’t even have to try that hard through the evening.

Now lunch with his family has been working up your anxiety, but when Anne greets you with a warm hug and some sweet words about how grateful she is to finally meet the girl her son has been gushing about, your nerves fade and you let yourself enjoy this time with them. They are all so welcoming and you really hit it off with Gemma, already making plans after the holidays, just the two of you.

“Already getting rid of me, babe?” Harry teases you softly and you just kiss him with an innocent look.

After family time at the Styles home, Harry drives you home to get changed and pick your skates up before dropping by his house to do the same. You arrive to the skating rink a little after five, the sun has already dipped down below the horizon, the Christmas lights all around the place are setting the mood for the evening.

“I’m warning you, I’m not that good of a skater,” you tell him with a nervous smile as you finish up with your skates.

“S’alright, I’ll look out for you,” he smirks, making your heart flutter in your chest. He holds out a hand for you and you gladly take it, balancing on the blades a little wobbly. It’s been quite a few years since the last time you skated and you surely became a little rusty. You can only hope you won’t embarrass yourself that badly, wouldn’t want such an awkward memory from your first Christmas spent together with Harry.

“Hold onto me all you want, Love,” he tells you when he is already on the ice, helping you step into the rink as well. Your ankles aren’t holding up too steadily, so you take up on his offer and cling onto him for dear life.

You manage to get on the ice without smashing your face against it, so you give yourself a point for that. Harry seems to be comfortable in his black skates, gliding on the ice easily, always looking out for you to help or catch you if you might fall.

It surely takes you time to get used to moving around on the ice, losing balance quite often, but Harry is always quick to catch you just in time, saving you from falling.

“You are getting better, babe,” he smiles at you proudly when you are only holding one of his hands, trying your best to move forward, people passing you in a faster pace, but you are just happy to take it in slower.

“Sorry to hold you back. You can go a few rounds without me if you want,” you tell him, knowing well he would easily be able to circle the rink smoothly like a pro.

“I’m perfectly fine, don’t worry about me, Love,” he smiles at you and he sounds genuine. Returning the smile you try to inch closer to steal a quick kiss, holding onto his hand you manage to reach him, but right before your lips could meet his, a guy speeds past you so suddenly, he scares you, making you jump and easily fall out of your balance you worked so hard to keep all along. Harry’s arm immediately flies around you, trying to keep you steady, but it’s all dead business.

You launch forward, not able to hold yourself up, collapsing against Harry, who desperately tries to keep the both of you standing, but he doesn’t succeed. The two of you fall to the hard ice and though you mostly land on Harry, it’s still painful and you can only imagine what it feels like for him.

“Oh shit!” you gasp when you finally realize what just happened and that you’re lying flat on Harry who is grunting underneath you. “Harry, I’m so sorry!” you whimper, already feeling the embarrassment crawling up on your cheeks, heating them up. Of course you have to be so clumsy to pull Harry down with you when you fall.

Eyes falling to Harry’s face you see that his expression is quite pain twisted and looking down at him you try to find where he hurt himself.

“Wha-what hurts?” you frantically ask as he opens his eyes, staring up at the sky, seemingly holding his breath.

“Don’t panic, Love, but I think my wrist is broken,” he huffs out and you gasp at his words. You carefully get off of him and your gaze finds the hand that’s probably injured, but you can’t see much, his coat and sweater still covering it.

You manage to hold your tears back as you and Harry somehow push yourselves up from the ice and make your way off the rink. He is holding himself up like a soldier, not even whimpering at the pain he is surely feeling, but you can tell it’s painful as hell. You help him change into his boots, then change yourself as well, pack everything up as you head out to the car. This time you’re clearly driving and sitting in the dark car you need to bite into your lower lip to stop yourself from crying, but you are not even the one who is injured.

You just can’t believe he broke an arm because of you. How pathetic are you really? This evening will surely haunt you for years.

You feel Harry’s gaze on you while you drive, and you’re pretty sure he can tell how shaken up you are, but he chooses not to comment on it and you’re more thank thankful for that choice.

You park down at the hospital and walking in you are faced with the holiday chaos of the ER, that basically looks like hell. The place is packed, nurses and doctors are rushing from one point to the other, patients are waiting everywhere, children are crying and it’s a whole mess.

You check Harry in at the nurse station and the nice lady asks the two of you to wait until his name is called. Harry spots two empty chairs in the corner so you make yourselves comfortable there for the wait ahead of you.

He can tell you are blaming yourself and shutting yourself down, but he surely doesn’t want you to think it’s any of your fault.

“Hey,” he softly breathes out catching your attention. “What’s going on in your pretty head?”

You let out a tired and frustrated sigh, rolling your lips into your mouth.

“Just that I’m such a loser, breaking my boyfriend’s hand on our first Christmas together.”

“You did not break my hand, okay? It was an accident, Love.”

“Yeah, but I fell on you and that’s why it happened. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted nothing to with me after this,” you mumble under your breath, but Harry is shocked to hear your words. Moving up his healthy hand to cup your cheek he turns your face to force you to look into his eyes.

“Okay, this is the silliest thing I’ve ever heard from you. Why would I want to break up with you for this?”

“Because… I’m a clumsy loser?” you whisper, feeling the tears stinging in your eyes again. “I’m so not the right match for you, anyone can see that,” you huff sadly.

“Stop this, I hate seeing you doubt yourself. Because it makes me feel like I don’t worship you enough, that I don’t show you enough how crazy I am for you.”

“You are?” you mumble with wide eyes.

“Oh, absolutely,” he chuckles, running his thumb across the soft skin under your eye. “And this is going to be the funniest and best story to tell later. I can’t wait to tease you every year about it,” he smirks smugly at you, and though you want to roll your eyes at him, your heart is threatening to jump out of your chest. He is planning to spend more Christmases with you!

“I’m sorry this is how our first Christmas turned out to be. In a crowded hospital waiting room,” you huff your apology and he just smiles down at you sweetly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“It doesn’t matter where we are. I just want to be with you.”

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #harry styles imagine #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #fanficmas #fanficmas2020 #fanficmas 2020 #watchmegetobsessed fanficmas #watchmegetobsessed fanficmas 2020

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intergalacticwanderer · 3 years ago

Text

(I hadn’t planned on writing a follow up to this fic, but I kept thinking about what would happen next and therefore this happened.)

It was later in the day when Beau finally caught up with Kingsley again, hangover mostly gone and jobs winding down on the ship. Things had proceeded as normal that morning outside of the initial outburst, but as the day went on Beau had noticed Kingsley getting quieter and quieter, already unusual on its own but downright concerning after what had happened last night and this morning. She had no idea what was even running through the tiefling’s head right now, but based on what he’d yelled right after waking up? It was probably an unholy mess. Just trying to sort it out made her head hurt, and it wasn’t even her head.

She really hoped he could be okay, at least.

“Hey,” Beau said as she came up next to Kingsley at the edge of the ship, resting her forearms on the rail and looking over at him. He didn’t acknowledge her at first, continuing to stare out at the ocean and arms crossed as he leaned on the rail. She waited. If he wanted to talk, he would, and if not, she could at least give him some company.

It was around six minutes before Kingsley finally spoke up.

“You know,” Kingsley said, voice soft and a little rough from disuse, “for as much shit as I give you, we make a pretty good fighting team. It went better than the last time like that at least.” He reached up and rubbed at the scar on his chest and Beau’s heart clenched.

Jumping right into it it seemed. Shit.

“You remember that?” If he was going to jump in she might as well too, but her stomach still lurched at that particular memory. Memories which he apparently had now too, with no warning what so ever. No wonder he’d been so quiet today.

“Yeah. I-I think so.” His hands were shaking slightly. “Remembering’s pretty different than reading your book.”

He threw his hands up in the air. “And I know we've had plenty of times fighting bad guys together. That was just the first time I've been...” He trailed off, seemingly unable to finish the thought out loud. Instead he just huffed, going back to the rail.

“How you holding up? That’s... a lot, man.” Understatement of the year, but how do you even start to address something like that? (Something niggled at her, that there was more to it than remembering dying, but she couldn’t quite place it. She put a pin in the thought for later.)

“Honestly?” He scrubbed at his eyes for a few moments before dragging his hand down his face. “No fucking clue. And... yeah. It’s a lot.” Kingsley blew out a long breath and then groaned, planting his elbows on the rail and burying his face in hands. “This sucks.”

“You got that right.”

Beau let him have another few minutes, watching as some seabirds wheeled overhead in the afternoon sky and a few wispy clouds drifted on the horizon. At one point Fjord caught her eye from another part of the deck and he almost came over but she waved him off, not wanting Kingsley to have to deal with too many people at once. Eventually Kingsley shifted to prop his chin on his hand and Beau decided she'd be the one to break the silence this time.

“Do you remember anything else? Besides-” she gestured to the scar on his chest- “that?” His reactions this morning implied that he did, but it'd be better to hear it from Kingsley himself. He glanced over, straightening up and rubbing the back of his neck.

“Some? A lot? It’s hard to tell when I don't know how much there is to begin with. It... matches what Yasha's told me at least.”

Beau’s heart rate sped up a little. Those comments he’d made this morning about suddenly having two names, about possibly making Molly his middle name now, she forced herself to actually look at that. That niggling thought she’d had earlier got stronger.

“Anything in particular you’re wondering about?” Maybe a bit on the leading side, but probably harmless (and she really wanted to figure this out). She leaned forward a little.

Unfortunately for her, Kingsley picked up on her weird vibe and gave her a confused squint, leaning back the same distance. Fuck. So much for harmless.

“Nnnooo? What the hell are you on about?”

“Nothing! Just curious.” That just made him squint at her even harder. Ugh, Dairon would have given her so much shit for this, she wasn’t used to trying to interrogate a friend. A second later Beau realized the ‘interrogate’ part was the problem and she forced herself to relax. She was here to try and help her friend out. And fuck, why did he have to look so much like a kicked puppy when he was upset? That should have been illegal. She let out an exasperated noise.

“Okay, fine, seeing you so quiet and moody is fucking weird. And I wanted to find out what was up.” There. She’d said it.

“Nice to know I usually have the emotional depth of a teacup,” he deadpanned.

“Oh fuck off. You know what I meant.”

Kingsley cocked his head, just staring back as she glowered and eventually he shrugged. “Alright. What is it?”

“Something’s obviously eating at you.”

“And?”

“Captive audience if you want to rant a bit.” Kingsley raised an eyebrow at the captive part and Beau rolled her eyes. “Not literally. I'll still listen.”

“You? Willingly listening to me?” Back to being an asshole. And an obvious attempt to deflect if she’d ever seen it.

“Yeah. Shocking.” She didn't move, the wind blowing a few stray hairs around her face and Kingsley’s hair tossed about as well while he thought.

“How about this.” He crossed his arms. “You guys going to treat me differently now that I remember stuff from Molly?”

Beau froze.

She wanted to say ‘of course not.’ She should say of course not. But she still remembered that morning, when confronted with yelling purple teifling and memories of the death match fresh in her head, she’d called him Molly.

“Not unless you want us to.” The wind picked up a little and she rubbed at her arms, trying to chase away the gooseflesh. Beau wasn’t sure if it was just the wind.

Kingsley gave her a flat look, red eyes unblinking. “Really.”

“Yes, really. You’re our friend. You.” She hoped that was the right thing to say at least.

“So you guys weren’t disappointed at all when you got me?” He looked at her while leaning his back against the rail, arms still crossed and tail lashing back and forth. Beau suddenly remembered that even if he'd never reached the uncanny level that Caduceus was at, Molly had still been surprisingly good at reading people. And, apparently, Kingsley was too. Fuck.

She sighed and looked down. It felt crappy to admit, but she had to be honest. “Yeah, that'd be a bit of a lie. Still wouldn't justify taking it out on you though.” Her fingers dug into her upper arm. “What matters is who you are now. Trying to force you to be someone you don't want to be is just shitty.” She looked back up at him.

A few more connections came together in her head. She had to know.

“Do... you still consider yourself and Molly to be two separate people, now that you have the memories?” Beau knew as soon she said the words out loud that she’d finally hit on the crux of the issue and Kingsley outright flinched. She mentally scrambled backwards. Shit fuck shit- “You don't have to answer,” she added on quickly, “it's not my business.”

Kingsley hugged himself tightly, looking down and tail coiled around his leg. She felt like her heart was about to beat out of her chest.

"I don't know," he said, so quietly that Beau almost missed it. He didn’t look up.

“You don’t have to,” she said. “It’s okay to not know. And like I said it’s none of my business.” (And yet she’d still asked the question. Great job, Beau.)

“It’s just-” He let out a frustrated noise. “This morning, right after I woke up, with all the yelling?” His heel tapped on the deck, jittery. “I was him, mentally. Probably why it didn’t bother me then. But then of course I had to have a bunch of time to fucking think.” Kingsley hunched over a little, looking smaller. “Now it just scares the shit out of me.”

There it was. The answer to why Kingsley had been so out of it all day, and all it did was make her feel like a nosy asshole.

Beau let out a shaky breath, taking another moment to look at the ship around them. For better or worse they were completely alone right then, save for a couple of the seabirds still flying over head. Think. What could she say right now that might be able to help? She’d just exposed some terrifying personal bullshit on accident, so... maybe she could let him see some of her own personal bullshit? Even the scales a little.

“I know it’s not really the same situation, but...” Inhale, exhale. It was okay to talk to him about this. “I’ve talked to you about my shitty dad before, right?”

Kingsley nodded. “Yeah, I know about the shitbag. Still think he could use some extra stabbing.”

Beau couldn’t help but smile a little at that. They really were all ride or die for each other.

“Not gonna disagree with you. The reason I bring him up is-” She sighed. “Main problem he had is he wanted me to be someone I’m not. So focused on the ‘should have been’ and the idea in his head that he ignored the person right in front of him. Well. Still payed enough attention to be awful.” Kingsley was quiet, listening, and Beau gathered the rest of her thoughts.

“Guess what I’m trying to say is I know how awful expectations like that can be. And that’s the last thing I’d want to do to you, okay? And I’ll fucking deck anyone who does that.”

“Even if that person is me?”

What.

Beau was left speechless for a moment, completely unprepared for that response. That was. What??? “Okay, you’re gonna have to explain that one to me. The fuck?”

He shrugged. “Are you gonna deck me? For having unreasonable expectations about myself?” The end of his tail tapped against his boot and Beau just stared at him. “That sounds like what you’re saying.”

“That’s not what I fucking- ugh!” She gave a frustrated tug at the hair on the top of her head, some of it coming out of her hairstyle. “What I’m trying to say you asshole is that the only thing that matters is who YOU want to be and that’s the end of it! Fucking hell!” Her words caught up with her and Beau deflated a bit. “Ahhh shi- fuck-” her face screwed up. “I’m sorry. That came out completely wrong. Sorry. Shit!” Why did she have to be so bad at this?

“N-nah, I get it,” Kingsley said, looking away and cheeks flushing. “And I was pretty shit with what I was trying to say too.” He scratched the back of his head. “And, uh, thanks. For saying that. Really.”

He leaned back, propping his elbows on the rail behind him and hair partially falling in his face. “I guess what I was trying? To say? Is that other people aren’t the issue for me. It’s my own head that’s the mess.” He sighed.

“I like being me, you know? I’m happy. But...” He went quiet again, chewing on his lip.

“But?”

He looked directly at her.

“What the hell am I supposed to do when I can’t even tell what ‘me’ is?”

Just hearing that made her go cold.

“That’s... fuck, dude.”

“You think?” He lurched up and started pacing next to the rail, Beau watching as he went back and forth, tail swishing side to side and one hand gesturing, the other tangled in his hair. “I went to bed as Kingsley Tealeaf, that’s me. Fine, dandy! Then last night we fight in a death match, and there? Mollymauk Tealeaf! Also great! But now?”

He stopped pacing, hands falling to his side. Slumped against the rail. “I don’t know. If I think about picking, ditching one of them, I’m terrified. Not a conscious thing, just thinking about it, makes me scared.” Hugged himself. “But I’m also scared that trying to hold onto both might make me lose ‘me’ anyway. I just. I don’t know.”

He was quiet for several more seconds, eventually raking both his hands through his hair at once and staring up at the sky. “What the fuck am I going to do now?” he breathed out.

“You want an actual answer to that, or you just thinking out loud?”

It slipped out before Beau could stop herself and she had a small moment of panic. This was the kind of stuff Caduceus was good at, not her, but at the same time? She was the person who was actually here right now. And she still wanted to do right by her friend. Somehow.

Kingsley blinked and then barked out a laugh, one hand staying tangled in his hair and the other going back to the rail as the looked over to Beau. “Do you have an answer Scribbles? Or are you just bullshitting?”

“Psht, that’s your job,” Beau said, rolling her eyes, and she noticed him relax a little at the jab. Good. “But, honestly?” She thought it over for a moment. “You do what you want to. And I’m not bullshitting you,” she said, raising her hands in front of her at the look he gave her. “You do what you want. It doesn’t have to be complicated.”

He blinked at her a couple more times. Dread squirmed in her stomach, wondering if she’d fucked up her advice giving again, but she forced herself to calm down. “Just think about it. What you might want to do next.”

She could practically see the process of him thinking for the next few minutes, holding still and his eyes distant. Eventually he made a thoughtful noise, hands coming up to steeple in front of his chin and a glint coming into his eyes.

“Does that mean whatever I want?”

“Okay, now you’re just being an ass,” Beau said and Kingsley broke out into a grin. Maybe she hadn’t completely fucked this up.

“Takes one to know one Scribbles.”

“You know what, I might just deck you anyway-”

“I’d like to see you tr- actually, no, you definitely could,” Kingsley said, backpedaling and raising his hands in front of him as his brain caught up with his mouth and seeing Beau raising a fist. She couldn’t keep it up however and soon enough she was grinning too, Kingsley breathing a sigh of relief. At which point she socked him in the shoulder.

“OW!” He hissed out between his teeth, rubbing his shoulder. “Did you have to do it that hard?”

“If I meant to hit you hard, you’d know.” Beau held her fist in the air. “Trust me.“

He eyed the raised fist. “You guys are still terrifying.”

“Hey, that includes you, don’t sell yourself short.” She paused, mulling over her next question. It’d be better for her to know, she decided. “The memories you have from the death match, of... earlier Molly stuff. Do you want me to refer to that as happening to you? Or someone else?”

Kingsley’s face screwed up like he’d bitten into something sour. “Case by case I guess? Death match is okay since it just happened, not sure on the rest yet.” He gave helpless shrug. “I’ll let you know later.”

“Good enough for me. Cause you in the death match? Definitely in the terrifying camp. Like I said, don’t sell yourself short.”

The glint returned to his eyes, along with a toothy grin. “I admit, it was pretty satisfying.”

“Aaand case in point right there, just that expression is terrifying. Fucking hell, dude.”

“I do have a future reputation to build,” he said airily, which somewhat ruined the expression. It also made Beau have to muffle a laugh, and she had to work even harder to muffle it when she saw Kingsley pouting.

“Now that’s just rude.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Beau said, waving a hand in the air and breathing deep to calm the laughter. “This about the pirate idea?”

He nodded. “It is indeed! You should know that I have plans.”

That glint was back in his eyes again, even more worrying than before. Maybe she should warn Fjord about it.

...

Nah, he could find out on his own.

Beau stretched, rolling her head and resting her palm on the back of her neck before looking at Kingsley again. One more question she needed to ask.

“Any updates on the name?”

There was a pause, a long pause, and then he shook his head. “I’ll stick with Kingsley for now. And what I said with the middle name this morning... I’ll keep thinking on it.” There was still some hesitancy, but overall? He actually looked okay.

“Fine by me. And hey, you wouldn’t be the first of the Nein to end up with a different name.” She shrugged. “Caleb and Veth did. Hell, even Jester picked her own name.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! You should ask her about it sometime.” Beau looked back out over the ocean, sun getting lower and the last of the sea birds flying off. “And I think it'd be good to talk Jester and Fjord about stuff in general. I’m not the best at this life advice thing.”

“Noooooo, really?”

“Oh eat a dick.”

“Sorry, can't, you don't have one.”

Beau paused.

“You know, ask Jester about some early Xhorhas disguises we had. I think you’d get a kick out of it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Color me intrigued. Any reason you can’t tell it?”

“Don’t want to rob Jester of the experience.”

“Now I’m really intrigued.”

“Beauuuu! Kingsleeeey!”

The two of them turned and looked up, following the voice to find Jester in the crow’s nest and waving down at them before cupping her hands around her mouth for the next shout. “We’re having dinner in 10 minutes! Be there!”

“Sure thing, Jes!” Beau hollered, waving back.

“Don't eat all the pastries before I get there!” Kingsley shouted.

“No promises!” Jester shouted back, before she gave one more very enthusiastic wave and started climbing down from the crow's nest.

Beau looked back to Kingsley, stretching then placing her hands on her hips. “Well, I think that’s our cue to get back to civilization.”

“You call this crew civilized?”

“Point. You know that includes you, right?” she said as the two of them started to walk.

“I know what I’m about,” Kingsley said, grinning.

“Suuure you do.”

“Yep!” he said cheerfully. He bounded ahead, tail swishing animatedly before spinning on one foot and throwing his arms out wide. “One uncivilized teifling, right here! And sorry, you’re stuck with me.”

“No refunds?”

“Nope!”

“Well damn. Sucks to be me I guess,” Beau deadpanned, but as she did she came up next to Kingsley and threw an arm around his shoulder, and her friend continued to grin.

“Come on. Let’s go show the rest of this uncivilized bunch what they’re missing.”

(Part Three)

#Critical Role #cr spoilers #Beauregard Lionett #Mollymauk Tealeaf #Kingsley Tealeaf #Mollymauk #Vox Machina vs Mighty Nein oneshot #Kingsley got a Molly memory dump after the deathmatch and is having a bad time #Critical Role fanfiction #my writing

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slashersthings · 4 years ago

Text

Billy Loomis x Fem! Reader/Part 2

“You're right, Billy, guess we're not going anywhere.”

Those words have you grasping the stair railing in front of you, knuckles going white from the forceness of it.

“We do have a better option here, don’t we?” Billy replies with a chilling smile directed at you and Stu laughs.

“Billy, please, don’t do this.” You start your first plea of the night, which seems to fall on deaf ears, as Billy and Stu just share another laugh and go about starting a plan to eliminate their ‘problem’.

“What about Y/N’s car?”

“I’ll get the keys and drive it somewhere they’ll never think to look.”

“And the body?”

“They’ll never find it.”

“And then what?” You interject into their disturbing conversation of how they’ll dispose of you’re body and they look up at you again, “You think my parents are just going to forget I existed and go about their life, acting as if I wasn’t missing?”

“We’ll think of something.” Stu says too quickly for your liking and Billy nods in agreement.

“You can’t really go through with this, right? Billy, you and I are friends, for God’s sake!”

“With benefits.” Stu adds with a giggle and under different circumstances, you’d have probably blushed and pretended not to understand what he was talking about, but maybe, just maybe, this was your ticket out of this house.

“Billy, you know deep down you can’t hurt me and if I mean anything to you, anything at all, please, let me go.”

You catch a glimmer of hope when you see Billy’s eyes soften at your words. Maybe this could work, maybe you could convince Billy to let you leave this house alive and not in a trash bag.

“Get the car keys.” Billy suddenly says and Stu nods, hurrying in the direction of the living room.

Well, you did say ‘maybe’. “Billy, I know you think you don't have any other choice here, but please, trust me when I tell you that you do.”

“It’s so easy to want to believe you, Y/N, mainly because you're so damn smart, smarter than me, that's for sure.” Billy takes a step further, “But I can’t let you walk out of this house, knowing what you know.”

“I won’t tell anyone about this, Billy, you and Stu will never get into trouble, I promise you that.”

Another step, “See, it sounds so simple when you say it, but actions speak louder than words, Y/N.”

“Oh my God, Billy, we were just practically dry humping on your couch ten minutes ago, doesn't that tell you something?”

“Yeah, it tells me a lot. It tells the story of two people who've wanted each other for a long time and decided to give it a go, but the protagonist, you, should have seen the warning signs a few chapters back.”

You back away from the railing when you finally notice that Billy was coming closer and closer to the stairs, “So, I guess I don't get a fairytale ending, eh?”

“Not this time.”

“It’s a shame,” You whisper, eyeing the open bedroom door a few feet away, “I really like those.”

“Everyone does until you realize relationships in fairytales are completely unrealistic and the white knight you hope will show up never does.”

“Hey, Billy, can I borrow this butcher knife?”

You dash off to the bedroom with a scream after hearing Stu’s deranged question from the kitchen, Billy quickly at your heels.

“Get back here, you bitch!”

You manage to make it into the bedroom and slam the door in Billy's face just in time. You felt sick to your stomach, eyes watering from fear and sadness. How could you've been so stupid? How did you not see the signs?

You yelp when Billy starts pounding on the door, screaming at you to open up and let him in. “I’ll go easy on you, babe, just let me in.”

“You mean you're going to kill me!”

There's silence on the other side, confirming that you're right. “Get the car and the duffel bag. We'll need what's inside.”

You hear Billy telling Stu what to do and swallow back your tears. You needed to think up a plan and you needed to think it up quick.

There didn’t seem to be any usable weapons in this bedroom, at least not any that would do severe damage to those two.

You glance around the bedroom, finding a phone sitting on a nightstand by the bed. As soon as you pick it up, there's a ‘click’ in the lock of the door, and your eyes widen.

No, no, no, this wasn't happening. He had a key. He had a goddamn key to this bedroom.

Billy bursts into the bedroom a few seconds later and you scream, scrambling over the bed to get to the other side of the room. “Please, stop screaming.” Billy pleads with you in a hushed whisper.

Uh-uh, no fucking way.

You shake your head, eyes looking for anything to help you. “What for? So, you can kill me without the neighbors hearing?”

“No, so I can talk to you without my ears bleeding.” He deadpans, and you tilt your head, giving him a long, hard look.

Billy closes the door, locking it too, and, yep, your heart was racing and you felt sick again, “If your gonna kill me, let's just get it over with, okay? No more theatrics.”

“I’m not going to kill you, Y/N, you're right, I can't do that to you.”

“Then what? You're gonna keep me here as your hostage?”

“There’s an image.”

Your eyes widen, “I hate that I can't tell if you're joking or not.”

“Be a good girl and you'll find out.”

You also hated the fact that a familiar heat pooled between your legs, because there should be absolutely no reason for this to be turning you on.

But for some reason, your body disagreed.

“Let me leave and you'll see how much of a good girl I can be.”

He chuckles, eyes gazing down your body, then back up to your worried eyes, “Oh, I have no doubt about that. But, you can't leave just yet.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“Because you think I'm going to go to the police and tell them what you and Stu have been up to.”

“You got it.” He shrugs, taking a step towards you, “And I wish I could say that you'd be different from that and keep your mouth shut, but I don't think that's possible. Am I right?”

“No,” You murmur, shaking your head, eyes tearing up again, “No, you're not right. Billy, you may not believe this or not want to believe in this, in me, but I don't want to see you rotting in a jail cell for the rest of your life.”

Feeling a rush of bravery, you close the gap between you and Billy, grabbing his hand with your own, “I care about you, I have for a long time now, and I think you feel the same way about me.”

“You know I do.”

“Then believe me when I tell you that I won't breathe a word about this to anyone. Not my parents, not the police, absolutely no one.”

He sees the determined look in your eyes and with a deep sigh, he reluctantly nods and pulls you closer, “I hope you won't make me regret this later on, Y/N.”

“You won't.” You smile and lean up to kiss him, “But, there is just one thing.” You say after pulling away from him slightly.”

“Yeah? What's that?” Billy asks, showing no interest in talking as he pulls you with him to the bed.

“Who’s going to tell Stu?”

Billy stops abruptly at your question and you giggle, perching yourself on top of the bed. “Ah, yeah, you wanna do it?”

“Yeah, uh, no, not happening. He's been trying to kill me a few minutes ago.”

“Alright, I'll go tell him.” He says but doesn't make any effort to leave, instead, he pulls you to him, kissing you deep and hard.

“Billy, ” You murmur against his lips, “What about Stu?”

“I’m going, I'm going, ” He grumbles while wrapping his strong arms around your waist, “Ten minutes.”

“Five.” You argue, fingers sliding up into his hair.

“Eight.” His tongue licks your upper lip, and your resolve starts to crumble.

“Fine.” You agree and Billy quickly presses you into the bed after that, making you let out a little mpgh noise against his mouth.

His body molds on top of you, his tongue buried inside you mouth, and for just a few minutes, you choose to forget what took place fifteen minutes ago.

His mouth is hot on your neck, licking and biting, and you make a mental reminder to check for marks when you leave. But when his hips roll against yours, and you feel him pressing against your center, all thoughts go out the window.

...”Hey, Billy, what's going on? Did you take care of Y/N?”

You freeze, eyes worriedly staring at the locked door, “Oh no.”

“I guess I better tell him.” Billy says and gets off of you reluctantly, “Stay right here.”

“Yes, sir.”

You watch him smile before unlocking the door, “What the hell, man, what's going on?”

“I gotta talk to you about Y/N.”

“What?”

“Let’s go downstairs.”

Billy closes the door, leaving you alone in the bedroom with your thoughts. You were now in deep with these two. You were an accomplice to their crimes.

...Well, at least you weren't dead.

#billy loomis x reader #billy loomis #stu matcher #scream #i intended for this to be smut but 🤷‍♀️🏻#I was listening to taylor swift and things kinda got sappy

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a-sour-nectarine · 3 years ago

Link

Summary:

The memories froze him. He didn't realize that Obi-Wan was calling his name, increasingly urgent, or that the water had reached his hips. It was cold, not as cold as it had been back on Kamino, but still just above freezing. He could almost imagine the crimson light of the clock, the sneering face of the trainer. The trainer hadn't been inherently cruel, but years of torturing little boys did something to the psyche.

So Cody suspected, at least.

Finally, a cry of "Cody!" woke him from his reverie. Obi-Wan was sobbing on the other side of the chamber, in a way Cody have never seen him cry, hand gripping his hair tightly enough to stretch the skin above his ear.

The water was up to his chest now, and rising fast, and the panic was still tight in his chest, but he made himself look Obi-Wan in the eyes. Before he did though, he caught his own gaze. His face was smooth in the crystal, no scar marring his temple. He absently wondered how anyone would be able to tell who he was, stuck in a child's body with no scar.

Notes:

Everyone shut up, I was supposed to post this last night, but I fell asleep. I am aware that it's Monday. Don't want to hear it.

This is my fourth and final submission for Codywan Week 2021! I really tried to do all seven days, but for my first ever event like this, I don't think I did too bad.

Prompt is an alt, Sith/Jedi Artifact Shenanigans.

"Um, commander?"

"What, Waxer?" Cody said irritably, blinking sleep out of his eyes. Day three in the remains of this stupid temple, and Cody, General Kenobi, Waxer, Boil, and six shinies, all yet to be named, had been grating on each other's nerves nonstop.

"You might want to... um... check in a mirror."

"Lieutenant, unless you have a mirror with you, that's not gonna happen."

"I just, um. Hold on. I'll take a picture, send it to your HUD."

Seconds later, said picture showed up in front of Cody's eyes. "Oh, Force."

A sleepy voice from the back of the room piped up. "Force what?"

Cody removed his helmet and shared a look with Waxer. That was not a brother, but it didn't quite sound like the General either, meaning....

"Hey, General, you might wanna come over here." Waxer shrugged at Cody as he called out. Sure enough, the figure making it's way over to them was not the General, or, at least, not the General they were used to. He looked like a cadet.

Well, so did Cody, so who was he to judge?

"Oh, Cody!" Obi-Wan exclaimed once he noticed the commander's state. He didn't seem to be able to stop the smile pulling at his mouth.

"Ah-ah, speak for yourself, General."

Obi-wan squinted down at his robes, which were the same as the ones he went to sleep in. He was drowning in them, looking only slightly less ridiculous than Cody did in his oversized armor. "Well, this is unfortunate."

Boil snorted. "Maybe one of you is small enough to fit through that hole now.

The General lit up. "Brilliant, Boil. Someone boost me up."

Boil snorted again, but followed him to the far wall. It had been pretty destroyed in the explosion, though still pretty effective in keeping the ten of them trapped. But maybe, now that Cody and Obi-Wan were smaller...

"Wait, wait, we aren't going to address the fact that we are– small? What caused it?"

Obi-Wan's lips quirked up in a smile, and Cody noticed how much more expressive he was when clean-shaven. "Well, I suspect it was caused by the artifact that also triggered the explosion that trapped us here. So, personally, I'd rather worry about it later." He held up the small slate of rock, carved with languages none of them could read.

Cody gaped for a second. That was pretty good thing to say if Obi-Wan wanted all the men to immediately lose faith in either himself or Cody. They had never disagreed in front of the troops, no matter how minor the issue. Equally unusual, he felt the urge to snap back. It was like he was four all over again— Oh. He was, wasn't he?

"Alright, but if you make it through, expect me to follow."

"I was hoping you'd say that." Obi-Wan chirped, grinning like he had just won some huge award.

Turned out that they both did fit, though Cody had to get shoved through and his shoulders got a little scraped up. But it was worth it for the first breath of fresh air outside.

Obi-Wan turned to him, eyes wide, and laughed. "I was honestly not positive that would work."

Cody couldn't help but join him in his laughter, breathless and a little manic, before a voice called out from inside the rubble.

"Will you two grow up and go find a damn signal?"

That was definitely Boil, no one else would speak like that to their COs, even if their COs were children. Cody couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah, yeah, old man. We're going." Cody really was just content with losing all respect, wasn't he. Eh, he was four, he was allowed to be petulant. Besides, he doubted that the eight people still trapped under the debris would be telling anyone else. Not because he trusts them, hells no, but because the situation was almost as embarrassing for them as it was for him and Obi-Wan. After all, they were the ones whose shebs would be saved by children.

Obi-Wan held out his hand, and Cody took it without a second thought, not that he had time to. The Jedi took off the second he had a hold on Cody's fingers. They ran up to the closest hill they could find and surveyed the landscape. Nothing but red grass and blue flowers and crumbling old ruins as far as the eye could see. It was almost beautiful.

Until it started raining.

A couple of light drops of water was all the warning they got before the sky opened, absolutely soaking them immediately. Cody groaned and took off again–-still attached to Obi-Wan–-towards the nearest gray, stone building that looked like it still had a ceiling. As soon as they made it inside, they heaved out twin sighs of relief. The building wasn't completely waterproof, but it was good enough. They made their way into the middle of the floor, where there was the least amount of leakage, and Cody shook himself savagely. The rain outside was not slowing, in fact, it seemed to only get heavier as time went on. Lightning flashed every few seconds. The thunder was constant, but could barely be heard over the sound of the rain.

And then the walls came down.

Not "came down," as in they fell. "Came down," as in a separate set of walls dropped in from the soggy ceiling, completely (and separately) entombing Cody and the General. The walls were some kind of clear glass or crystal, faceted and almost completely transparent. The wall between them had gaps in it, sort of decoratively symmetrical.

"Uhh, Commander?"

"Yeah, sir, I noticed." Cody pounded on the wall, and it didn't even crack. Not glass, then. His enhanced strength would have taken care of glass that thick, child body or no.

In spite of the situation, Obi-Wan giggled, his voice echoing oddly from the other side of the crystal. "Cody, please don't call me "sir," it feels strange. I'm eleven."

"How can you possibly know how old you are?"

"No scar on my thumb. I rub it when I'm nervous, but right now there's nothing to rub."

"How do you know you aren't– I dunno, nine?"

"Just a guess, I suppose. I feel too tall to be nine. You, on the other hand, look younger than that."

Cody quickly crunched the numbers in his head. "S'pose that would make sense, if it's relative. I'm developmentally about 10 years younger than you. Twenty-four to thirty-five, eight to eleven."

"You're ignoring the fact that we are trapped."

"Yes, I am."

"That doesn't change the situation."

"I'm aware. But, as previously stated, I am eight years old. Four, actually. I'm trying not to panic. How are you calm?"

"Oh, I'm not. I'm actually fighting off a panic attack, if I am to be frank. This is almost exactly how Qui-Gon died, with me trapped on the other side of a ray shield. I just keep talking because it seems to distract me."

Cody cursed himself. He knew that, and it should have occurred to him that this was probably Obi-Wan's worst nightmare. He kicked his feet along the bottom of the wall, and noticed a particularly concerning fact. The crystal was growing. Not just randomly growing, it seemed to be specifically growing to cover the holes in the wall, creeping up and up. And, as if that wasn't worrisome enough, Cody's feet were wet. Not from the rain, but from the water seeping up from the floor. It was rapidly climbing higher, just a little below the level of growing crystal. The sound was rather pleasant, Cody noted, but he also noted that Obi-Wan's side of the little prison was completely dry.

The irony was not lost on him. And the irony was pretty kriffed up.

And it got worse once Obi-Wan noticed. The Jedi just let out a hysterical little laugh, and started pacing. "Wow, how wonderful."

"Hey, Ge–Obi-Wan, it's okay. It's okay. It's really slow."

Obi-Wan stopped pacing and stretched his hand through a hole at shoulder height, yet to be covered. Cody didn't even think before he grabbed the boy's (man's?) hand.

"It'll be okay," He repeated. "I'm fine."

The water was about knee high now, and the row of crystals at shoulder height were starting to close off. Cody pushed Obi-Wan's hand back just before the crystal could trap it there, and Obi-Wan let out a pained sound, pressing up against the wall. It hurt Cody. Hurt him more that being trapped, than the memories he had at this age, the memories that this water chamber was starting to dredge up.

Watching his brothers take their turns in the tank, none coming out conscious. "It's for your training," the longnecks had said. It felt like torture to Cody. Though, he supposed, maybe that was the point. It's hard for torture to frighten you if you have already experienced worse.

His turn now, he pulled on the breathing mask and stepped into the tank. It started filling up from the tubes in the sides, and the cold water shocked him a little. He watched the blinking, red light outside on the wall, until it counted up to three minutes. As soon as it hit three, he took a deep breath and shoved the mask off his face, and the clock started counting down again. Could he make it?

No. He woke up later in the medbay.

Like he always did.

So Cody suspected, at least.

"It's alright," he said as the water carried him up, up, toward the top of the chamber. It wasn't nearly far enough away.

"I'll be fine," he called as he felt his head press against the ceiling. Too soon.

"I'm okay," he lied, then took a deep breath, right before the water covered his mouth and nose.

The clock ticked down, 2.59, 2.58, 2.57...

He sank back down, keeping his eyes open and on the crying boy leaning on the wall. Cody smiled and pressed his hand against the crystal.

1.46, 1.45, 1.44, 1.43...

Obi-Wan frantically pushed his own hand against Cody's through the wall. His other fist pounded at the crystal, to no avail. Cody's lungs were starting to burn.

1.03, 1.02, 1.01...

Cody's vision got darker, but he kept his gaze on Obi-Wan. Through the water, he looked distorted, but his eyes were unmistakable. Blue, bright with tears, creased with grief. Cody thought that it had been a while since he had seen those eyes smile. He hoped they would again, maybe after the Wars. Long after Cody was gone. He hoped this wouldn't break Obi-Wan beyond repair. His gaze really did go black now, and the clock in his memory blinked just twice more.

0.01, 0.00.

He felt a satisfied smile pull on his lips. He made it.

~~~~~~~~

Obi-Wan saw Cody's eyes close, and he cried out. "Cody! Stay with me!"

He couldn't ask that of him. It was selfish and impossible. But Obi-Wan felt so small, so helpless. It was just like when Qui-Gon had died, and he could do nothing. Nothing.

"Not nothing," a voice chided. "You can change it, this time."

A different voice swirled around him. "He must learn."

The first voice pressed in. "This will only break him. You are strong, child. Use it."

The soft voice was right. If he lost Cody right now, he would shatter. There would be no Obi-Wan Kenobi to put together, not like there had been last time. He would never come back. Maybe that was what the Code aimed to prevent when it forbade attachments. He had never been good at staying away from those he loved.

But there was no way to get to Cody.

"The power. It is yours to use, young one. Focus it."

"What power?!" He yelled, sounding like a child, even to his own ears. He was a child, actually. No response. Obi-Wan took a deep breath and placed his hands on the crystal wall, tears slipping down his cheeks as he closed his eyes. And he focused. It was like meditating, but more. He felt it. Power. Flowing through his very being. That was what the voice meant. It felt like an ocean, pushing and pulling at him, flowing through him. He waited, waited....

And pushed.

The crystal around him shattered. Shattered like Obi-Wan, because he surged forward and Cody was in his arms and he was him again, filling out his armor, scar across his temple but he was still and cold. Obi-Wan lowered Cody to the ground, brushing the shards of crystal away with his mind, and cried again. "Cody, Cody please. Wake up." He gulped in a breath of air. "Commander, wake up! That's and order!" And he used the power and he pushed the water out of Cody's lungs, but he still didn't stir. He heart had all but stopped, and he wasn't breathing. Obi-Wan used the power again and gathered the Force around Cody's lungs, breathing for him, in--out--in--out--in--

That's when Obi-Wan noticed the crystal in his hand. He would have dismissed it, thrown it with the rest of the shards of crystal littering the floor around him, if not for the glow.

"It is for him. This was as much his trial as it was yours."

The sense of desperation flooded him again, and he fought back tears. What use would Cody have for the crystal if he was dead? But he pressed it to the commander's chest anyway.

"Cody, don't leave. Please wake up. You have to wake up."

And then it was like Cody had heard him, because he coughed and shivered. Obi-Wan released his grip on the Force, because he didn't need it anymore, because Cody was breathing on his own. He squeezed his eyes shut and the scar on his temple stretched. Obi-Wan sobbed in relief and pressed a kiss to Cody's forehead, because he was alive, and they had passed whatever test they had been given, and they were alive.

And that would do for now. That would be enough until they had to go find help, until they had to get the squad out, until they found someone who could help.

Because Obi-Wan was not going to lose anyone today.

#codywanweek2021 #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #there were many external factors that influenced this fic #its far from my best work #but kinda interesting at least

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honeymoonjin · 4 years ago

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 14.1k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: filmed sex/voyeurism/exhibitionism as usual, semi-public sex, foodplay, a lot of sloppy making out, creampie is not the only type of dessert involved, very soft dom!jin, sub!reader, unprotected sex but who’s surprised, dom!hoseok, waxplay, painplay, very explicit discussion about consent since waxplay is technically edgeplay, restraints, cuffs, flogging, hobi in his element is a kink in and of itself, degradation, discipline, subspace, scratching, rough sex, hoseok going the extra mile honestly, still unprotected sex, cumshot

dedicated to my sfhs girls, everyone in the villa discord, and sponsored by the red room

FAN FAVOURITE

On the sixth Day of every Week in the game, the Audience Fan Favourite vote is released for 48 hours following the post of the fic. Please note, this is NOT the elimination vote, which is taken on the seventh Day of each Week.

The vote is at the end of this chapter.

DAY TWENTY

Though it’s the weekend (as if that has any real significance when you aren’t really working) you wake up tragically early, before the sun’s even risen.

Unsure of what woke you, you rub your eyes and duck your head out into the hallway. To your surprise, there’s the distinct yellowish glow from a light on downstairs. It’s hard to walk down the stairs when your head is full of cotton, your eyes still bleary and your mouth constantly stretched in a yawn, but finally you stumble down into the main space.

Frozen, with a metal spoon hanging out of his mouth and his eyes wide and red, is the oldest man of the house. He leans dejectedly against the kitchen counter, haunting a tub of ice cream that’s definitely not intended for one person. You quickly realise what may have woken you is the obnoxious whir of the microwave, something in a covered glass jar twirling round and round inside.

“What-” you swallow and clear your throat when the word comes out croaky, “what are you doing here so early? Are you okay?”

Still startled by your presence, he blinks a few times and removes the spoon from his mouth, letting it clatter to the table. “I’ve been better.”

Your face drops in sympathy, ignoring the freezing tile on your feet as you approach him. Without waiting for permission, you wrap your arms around his waist and pull him close to you in a tight hug. “What’s up, Jinnie? You can be honest with me. If you let me have some of your ice cream, of course.”

That manages to pull a weak laugh from him as he hands you the spoon and ruffles your hair. “I am, as it turns out,” he explains, “incredibly stupid.”

“Ah.” You dig into the tub of ice cream one handed, dislodging a chunk of what looks like brownie. “First of all, I disagree, but more importantly, why do you think that?”

“Do you have an hour?” Jin sighs at the poor attempt at lightening his own mood. “To tell you the truth, and this may come as a shock to you, but-”

“Is this about Yoongi and you fucking?”

Jin pulls back, staring you down with a bewildered expression.

You swallow a cold mouthful, furrowing your brows apologetically. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have interrupted. Go on.”

“I- How did you- Who knows?”

You hum for a minute, tapping the end of the spoon against your lips. “Oh, I’d imagine everyone,” you summarise. “Subtlety isn’t your strong suit.” You wince as you recall a few particular evenings. “Nor is volume control.”

“Right.” Jin has the good grace to look sheepish at that, but gently tugs the spoon back. The microwave beeps noisily behind you, and he curses, rushing over to pull the jar out. “Anyways, yes, Yoongi and I have been casual for a short time now, but things are messy. And I suppose I sort of thought they were good messy, but last night I realised how very not-good messy they were. I haven’t been fair to Yoongi. Or you.”

You tilt your head, watching him uncover a lightly steaming jar full of what looks and smells like caramel. “Me? What does this have to do with me?”

Jin opens his mouth, grimaces, and closes it again. After a few moments of silence where he stirs the sauce and tastes a bit of it, he finally faces you to speak. “After the fight, you didn’t really...say anything about what you found out. My feelings for you, I mean. Not that you were at all obligated to, of course, but I wanted to give you space. And… I wanted to have space too, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so when Yoongi expressed interest in me, I thought him and I could help each other out.”

He pours some of the sauce directly into the tub of icecream, but then puts it down and rests his forearms on the countertop, really leans his whole body weight onto them like it’s hard to stay standing. “Yoongi has feelings for me,” he explains. “I don’t know if you know that too, but- yeah. He said- even as recently as yesterday, he said he was fine, but I should know better. It’s irresponsible of me to take his words as gospel when I can so clearly see, as his friend and as a trained therapist, that he isn’t okay.”

You want to wait until he’s said his piece, but your chest feels hot, like your ribs are smouldering coals. You can’t stop your tongue. “I don’t need space.”

Jin blinks, caught off-guard. “Huh?”

“I don’t need space,” you repeat in a warm voice, “I don’t want you to be distant. Fuck Yoongi if you want, but don’t do it just because you’re avoiding me. You’re right; that isn’t fair to either of us.”

“I know,” he concedes, shoveling another spoonful of melted ice cream and sauce into his mouth to buy him some thinking time. “It’s getting out of hand, too. Just yesterday Jungkook asked to join and- God, this is such a mess. I should end it, shouldn’t I?”

Your tongue tingles with the urge to press about Jungkook. Feeling like that isn’t really Jin’s priority right now, you change tact. “Do you want to end it?”

Jin furrows his brows, deep in thought. Clad in blue and white striped pyjamas, his face seems far too serious for his attire, but it’s clear this is really eating away at him if he’s up so early thinking about it. Had he even gone to bed at all? “I don’t want to,” he admits, “being with Yoongi is so easy. And not like- not logistically, I’m not saying Yoongi is easy, but… God, I don’t know how to say this without it being soppy. It feels right. But at what point do I stop doing what I want and start thinking about others? I need to do what’s best for Yoongi.”

It’s hard conveying any semblance of intelligent thought when you probably have not even half of the whole story, but you do your best for him. “Is that a decision you should be making on his behalf, though? I feel like you should be having this conversation with him.”

Jin sighs, placing the spoon down so it doesn’t clatter. “Here’s the thing. I’ve been going over and over it in my head. My reasons for sleeping with him aren’t all noble or genuine or even fair. And I know he has feelings for me. I think if I let this continue I’ll be hurting him. So surely ending it is the right thing to do?”

You mull it over a moment. “It seems like you already know the answer, Jin,” you offer up softly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Jin bites his lip, eyes distant. “If I text him, if I tell him that we need to talk, or that we shouldn’t do it anymore, then… You said you didn’t need space. So can we talk? About us?”

“Of course,” you reply immediately, though your heart rate quickens at the thought, “that’s probably for the best, too.”

“Alright.” Jin wipes his hands on his shirt pants, whether it’s to get off the stickiness of the dessert or sweat you don’t know, but soon enough he’s slipping his phone out and hunkering down on the kitchen tile floor.

You join him, scooching up so that your shoulders bump. With your back against the cabinets and your lower half on those icy tiles, normally you’d be shivering. But Jin’s body is like a radiator, and he leans into you as he unlocks his phone and pulls up Yoongi’s contact.

For his privacy, you try not to look, but you can’t help but notice the name for Yoongi is Min City, and that their recent texts are calls for late-night rendezvous. Jin takes a deep breath, his thumbs hovering over the keypad. “What do I even say?” he muses out loud. “I’m a therapist; why can’t I even work out a good ‘we should talk’ text?”

You hook your hand under his arm, tucking it to your side. “Start off by apologising for texting him at ass o’clock in the morning,” you jibe.

Jin pauses. “I’ll probably rephrase,” he admits, “but that’s solid.”

hey yoongichi, sorry about texting you so early. |

“Okay, what next?” Jin says in a shortened breath.

You let out a light laugh. “This is your message,” you remind him, “but fine. How about this? Tell him that you’ve been thinking a lot, which you have, and that you just can’t keep sleeping with him in good conscience because you don’t feel like it’s wise. And maybe, like, tell him to come find you when he reads it so you can have a proper chat. It shouldn’t just be done over text, you know?”

“That’s true… Okay, here goes.” Jin swallows hard as he types away, and were it not for the fact that these were your friends who were involved, you’d laugh at the cheesiness of the moment. Like something off a trashy k-drama, though your life felt more and more like one every day anyway.

hey yoongichi, sorry about texting you so early. i’ve been doing a lot of thinking after our talk, and i just really don’t think us doing this is a good idea anymore. please let me know when you get this. we can talk it over a bit. |

“Is that all I need?”

You shrug. “I guess so. Unless you wanna add an ‘xoxo’ to the end of it.”

Jin bites his lip. “That may send mixed messages.”

“It was a joke, Jinnie,” you protest, shoving him playfully. “Anyway, are you gonna send i-”

A loud ding cuts you off, echoing slightly in the otherwise silent house. Above the box of text Jin had been crafting, a new strip of grey appears.

The both of you freeze, staring in disbelief at the screen. “Did he just..?” Before you can even finish that sentence, a second chime rings out again, and the screen shifts to display more grey, slightly smaller than the first.

“Looks like,” Jin murmurs, scrolling up to view the new message. “Holy shit.”

I’m sure you’re still asleep jin-hyung, so just text me when you get this but yesterday i was lying when i said i was fine, because i’m really not and jungkook has really helped to give me a little perspective so i’m sorry if you still need someone to distract you but i’m not gonna be that someone anymore

No hard feelings btw, i still feel the same way about you but i don’t think we should have sex for a while, i just need some distance. I like to think that you’d want me to put myself first and i’m doing that now. I hope you can understand

“That… I guess that’s that sorted,” Jin says slowly, tapping the screen to delete his message. “Should I reply now?” He thinks for a moment, then shakes his head as he locks the phone. “No, I’ll wait until later. He won’t be expecting a reply now, anyway. Hopefully he can get some sleep.” His eyes turn sad. “Do you think he was up all night stressing about that?”

“Hey,” you warn lowly, “don’t guilt yourself. The two of you can straighten things out later, and sleep better tonight. Yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah.” He releases a slow breath, his body heavy with unshed tension. For a moment, the two of you stay silent, you giving him time to process. When he speaks, he shuffles his whole body around to face you. “I know why you’ve been so hesitant,” he announces suddenly.

You frown. “Wait, what? Hesitant?”

“Yes,” he insists, “you haven’t really talked at all about if you return my feelings. I used to feel really confused and hurt by it, but I get it now.”

Your stomach rolls strangely, a feeling like being caught red-handed. “What do you mean?”

“Last night,” he explains, “I came up to tell everyone that dinner wasn’t far away. You weren’t in your room, and Taehyung wasn’t in his…” He trails off meaningfully, and realisation settles in your bones, not shock, but resignation.

“Oh.” You swallow, sitting up so you’re no longer leaning towards him. “You saw us? In Jimin’s room?”

“I won’t tell,” he begins automatically, “and it’s okay. I see that you’ve been answered for already. I’ll respect that.”

“It isn’t like that,” you say reflexively, “we - god, we weren’t supposed to let anyone know, I can’t believe we didn’t lock the door - but we aren’t together together. It would be too messy, and it was putting a strain on our relationships with everyone else, you know?”

Jin frowns, like he’s trying to work it all out. “So it isn’t a romantic relationship?”

You smile thinking of Taehyung’s loving brown eyes and Jimin’s gentle embrace. “It’s a promise,” you explain softly, wrapping your arms around your torso. “We aren’t making any commitments or ties now, and we obviously can’t be exclusive, so it’s a promise that once we’re out of here, we’ll try and explore our feelings. Do it right.”

The therapist takes in a deep breath, nodding. “Then where do I fit into all of this? Does that mean I have a chance?”

“I-” You bite your lip, avoiding his imploring gaze. “It would feel wrong getting into a relationship when I’d decided that I wouldn’t do it with them. If that makes sense?”

“It makes perfect sense,” he assures, “but that’s not what I mean. I don’t need to be in a relationship with you to treat you right, Y/n. I just want to know if there’s a chance in hell that you return my feelings.”

You lift your eyes at this, staring at the way his soften in response. Your heart thuds in your chest and there’s a liquid relief pumping through your veins that he’s willing to stay by you. If you didn’t already know it before, those sensations certainly make it clear. “I like you, Jin. A lot.”

He smiles in relief, a small and sweet one that makes his eyes crinkle. Rather than responding verbally, he slips one large palm around the nape of your neck and pulls you in for a kiss.

Eyes slipping shut the moment he comes close, you reach out blindly for him and fist your hand in the thin fabric of his pyjamas to steady yourself. His lips are so plush, and moving so slowly, that it feels like they could slow down time itself. There’s no urgency in the sensual way he kisses you, but you can nonetheless taste his elation sweeter than the remnants of caramel on his tongue.

In that same way, you have no idea how much time passes with your mouths locked together, slowly warming the kitchen floor with your body heat until your skin feels on fire. Even the slightest details, like his fingertips on the back of your neck and your inner wrist make you dizzy.

You break apart for air, still clinging to him like you’d drown without his touch. Panting, you try to slow your racing heart. Your lips still tingle, and reach up to brush your fingers against them in wonder. “Oh, wow,” you whisper dumbly.

Jin smiles, then, a brilliant one that warms his whole face. “Wow,” he repeats. “I’ve been waiting to kiss you like that for a long time, Y/n.”

Barely able to think, you find your eyes slipping down to his lips, how swollen they are, dusky pink. “You can do it again, if you want.”

Jin goes to lean forward, but halts, looking up to the countertop. “One sec,” he hedges, “I’m determined to continue my opportunist streak.”

“Your what?” You chuckle at first, but as he reaches up and drags the jar of caramel sauce down, your eyes quickly widen in realisation.

Jin catches your look, sending you a wink. “Open up,” he instructs, and you drop your jaw without hesitation, anticipation heightening your senses.

When he tips the lip of the container forward, and you feel that warm sweetness burst on your tongue, you moan, tilting your head back so it pools in your mouth. But instead of stopping, he continues to pour, until you feel it threaten to spill out. “Too much,” you try to say, but you can’t move your tongue or lips enough to enunciate it.

Jin only pulls the jar away when it begins to drip down your chin, and like a man starved, he leans in and licks into your mouth without abandon.

You moan as you feel his tongue cut through the molten sugar, running over yours, over your teeth and lips and even ducking down to messily swipe up the stickiness on your face. No matter how much he ravishes you, the moment you begin to kiss back, your tongue lifts and a thick wave of hot caramel slips between your mouths, no doubt getting on your pyjama shirt.

Jin doesn’t seem to care; on the contrary, he moans and clasps your face in both hands, nipping at your lips and deepening the kiss more than you even thought possible. Slowly, the sweetness of caramel gives way to his own taste, and you’re left licking each other filthily, entwined together on the kitchen floor.

Once your chest is aching with a lack of oxygen, you pull away with a gasp, wincing at the weird feeling of caramel on your chest. “So messy,” you groan, “sorry, I didn’t think you’d pour so much.”

Jin’s eyes just light up with mirth. “Messy is the point, baby. We probably have, what-” he pauses to consult the time on the microwave, “two hours before the early risers are up? Why don’t we make an even bigger mess? I’ve decided I’d like to have my dessert first.”

You press your lips together to prevent a moan, nodding frantically. “Fuck, please. I want you.”

The therapist’s chest hitches, but he reaches out to squeeze your thigh. “Lie back, then, baby. Can you take your shirt off for me?”

You’re in such a hurry to obey him, shivering violently at the cold tile against your bare back, that when you suddenly feel a cold burst on your chest you jump, getting a fright.

There’s not enough time to feel that burst of ice, however, as a hot tongue quickly laps it up, collecting every last drop. Jin even sucks the skin there, just above the swell of your breast, to make sure he’s cleaned you up.

You writhe on the floor, your panties uncomfortably soaked, but Jin just throws a leg and an arm over you, straddling you and caging you against the floor. His weight against you makes you moan, that delicious sensation of being trapped exactly where you most want to be.

This time, when he digs his spoon into the slightly-melted ice cream, he pops it into his mouth instead of on your skin. You almost assume he’s just taking some for himself, but then he’s dipping his head and wrapping those sinful lips around one of your nipples, making you cry out.

The cold is immediately overwhelming, tightening and stiffening your peak, and the dizzying mix of his hot tongue with that cold dessert has you clinging to his back, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. “F-fuck, Jin,” you gasp, “so cold.”

“Is it?” Jin quips, his hand reaching to his side. “Oh, I’m sorry, baby.”

Without giving you a moment’s respite, he’s drizzling trails of caramel over your breasts, and lapping it up with ravenous enthusiasm. Though the caramel has gone mostly room-temperature, the contrast against your cooled nipple just makes it feel that much more electric, and you arch your back harshly until Jin finally reaches it and soothes it with his mouth.

You moan, wishing you had something to rut against, some type of friction where you needed it most, but Jin’s more focused on licking, nipping and sucking the sugar off of your body, leaving you trembling. “More,” you plead needily.

“More sauce? More ice cream?” he asks, panting as his own arousal presses stiffly against your lower stomach.

“More you,” you beg, arching up into him, making him curse lowly.

Like desperate virgins, you both quickly discard the last of your clothing, Jin just about popping the buttons of his shirt clean off, and it feels simultaneously like a second and a century before you feel his familiar girth pressing into you, stretching your dripping walls.

You groan, the back of your head knocking against the tile as you go slack, letting yourself focus fully on the sensation of him filling you up. “Fuck, Jin,” you gasp out, legs wrapping around his torso as he goes deeper and deeper.

When he bottoms out, however, Jin doesn’t begin fucking you straight away. Instead, he reaches for the jar. “Tongue out, baby,” he instructs.

Swallowing the drool that gathers in your mouth from the pleasure, you stick out your tongue until you feel it on your chin, awaiting the stream. Clearly wanting to be as messy as possible, Jin intentionally lifts his hand higher so that instead of a mouthful, you get whippings of sugar all over your neck, chin, and cheeks. Hardly any actually makes it in your mouth, but the therapist just chuckles and puts the jar beside him, bending down to run his tongue in a broad swipe up your cheek.

You squeal, turning your head to the side, but the surprise quickly bubbles into arousal as he laps up every last drop, sucking hickies into your neck all the way. The longer he goes, the more you need him, wetter and wetter around his cock. Rocking your hips just to get some friction, you whine into the silence of the kitchen. “Jin, fuck me already,” you plead.

Jin’s first thrust punches all the air out of you. He snaps his hips hard enough to push your body forward from the tile, then grabs your waist with a low growl, pinning you against the floor.

Though the tiles are still cold, your body heat is quickly taking the edge off, and being fucked against such a hard surface is a new feeling to you entirely. There’s no give, no bounce. When Jin begins fucking you at a greedy pace, you feel every inch of him stretching you open.

Your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth drops open, trying not to moan loud enough that the sound would travel upstairs, but barely able to even contain them at all. “Fucking me so go-mmf!” Your mouth is filled with a cold intruder, and you suck hard, swirling your tongue around the two fingers covered with ice cream. Jin curses lowly at the feeling, and suddenly he’s picking up the pace even more.

You cry out around his fingers, hands flailing to find something to latch onto and anchor yourself, but your knuckles whack into something solid. The ache in your fingers is quickly drowned out by the sudden rush of thick wetness on your stomach, and your eyes fly open, choking on Jin’s digits.

His thrusts slow down and he pulls his hand away and before you can say a single thing, the room is filled with the contagious sound of his laughter. Cock still buried deep inside you, and one hand dripping with caramel, holding onto the near-empty jar, Jin howls, shoulders shaking with the force of it.

“Hey!” you whine, pouting when the caramel disperses over you, soon dripping down onto your back and the floor. “Don’t laugh at me! You wouldn’t like it if your chest was drenched in caramel!”

Jin discards the jar beside him with a sticky clink, and composes himself, though that glint still remains alight in his eyes. “Oh, wouldn’t I?” Without a moment’s hesitation, he’s bending down until your chests are pressed together, separated only by that slippery layer of sauce.

A muffled squeak leaves your lips when he captures them again, his fingers scratching lines up your sides, making you shiver. You try to protest his attempt at tickling you while you were vulnerable, but then he’s rocking his hips, shallow strokes that grind into you so deep.

You moan, wrapping your arms around his back. Every time you feel his nails cutting through the syrup, you scratch his back. Instead of deterring him, however, he just groans into your mouth and doubles his efforts at fucking you.

Slowly, his hands move around from your sides to your back, and you cling to him tighter as he lifts you off the kitchen floor. Still delving his tongue deep into your mouth, he pulls you up until your torso is arched against him and your head tips back slightly, a perfect halfway point between horizontal and vertical, and uses the extra momentum to thrust up into you harder. The angle hits your g-spot roughly with every snap of his hips, and your clit grinds against his cock.

You cry out and lose contact with his mouth, but he just latches it onto your neck instead, dragging his teeth over your shoulder to let the cooled caramel pool in his mouth.

“Jinnie, I’m close,” you confess in a rush, your orgasm quickly building with a pressure between your legs. Something in the way your toes curl and stomach tenses warns you that this will be a powerful one, and your cries increase in pitch and volume, every breath a moan. “Jinnie! Fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna-”

“Make another mess for me, baby,” Jin groans, and with those words alone your vision goes white.

Jin curses when you lock up around him - legs and arms and pussy alike - but continues to rut against you as you ride the churning wave of your high. Burying your head into the crook of his neck so that you don’t wake the others with your keening scream, you feel a sudden burst inside you that leaves you trembling uncontrollably beneath him.

You feel Jin’s chin pressing into your hair as he glances down, grunting with exertion, and suddenly he’s freezing, holding you tightly to him as he cums inside of you.

The warmth of him filling you is the perfect soother as you come down from that intense climax, and you sigh as he leans forward, lying you back down on the kitchen tile. The two of you fight to catch your breath, the only sounds in the room your joint gasps.

Above you, Jin’s chest heaves, dripping with caramel just like yours must be. He doesn’t take any bother though, wiping away the sweat on his brow with a clean patch of his forearm. “Man,” he exclaims with a cheery chuckle, “you really did make a mess, huh?”

“What?” you ask blearily, weakly propping yourself up on your elbows to glance down. Thinner and clearer than the caramel, a liquid drips over yours and Jin’s stomachs, running down to the tile. You’d squirted. With a weak groan, you let yourself collapse back onto the sticky floor. “It’s too early for this,” you whine. “Oh, god. We have to clean this up.”

Jin’s smile is wiped clear off his face. “Oh, fuck. I didn’t even think about that, my notes didn’t mention it…”

“Your notes?” you ask curiously, grimacing when Jin slowly pulls himself out of you, a stream of cum following and joining the mess of liquids on the floor. “What notes?”

The therapist lets out a nervous laugh as he gets up off the floor, grabbing a clean dish cloth from the bottom drawer. “I did some research, that’s all. Like, no spicy stuff near any mucous membranes because of the sting, no sugar in the vulva otherwise you might get a yeast infection-”

“Eugh,” you cut in, “I’m glad you did the research, but that just makes me want a shower even more now.”

“Go shower, then,” Jin allows with a sympathetic smile, wetting the cloth and beginning to wipe off the stickiness on his chest. “I can clean this up for you.”

“Absolutely not,” you insist, “I’ll quickly wash this off, but I’m coming back down to help you. The sun’s about to rise, so if we work together, maybe there won’t still be cummy sauce all over the floor when the others come down for breakfast.”

“It is probably a safety hazard,” Jin admits. “Okay, then, we’ll clean it together. I’ll have a quick shower once you get back.”

You beam up at him but, before you grab your clothes and rush up the stairs, you rise onto your tiptoes and press a kiss to his sugared lips. “Don’t miss me too much.”

Jin returns your warm smile, ducking down to steal another kiss, and another, and another until you’re giggling and ducking away. “I’ll do my best.”

“You aren’t being particularly subtle.”

Hoseok shrugs at Yoongi. “I’m not trying to be subtle.”

The doctor’s eyes narrow. “Then tell us what’s in the box.”

Hoseok hesitates. “I’m trying to be a little bit subtle.”

Taehyung groans, reaching out for the heavy cardboard box and glaring reproachfully at Hoseok when he smacks his hand away. “Could we have a clue?”

Hoseok smiles sweetly. “No.”

“Then why is it on the table?” the masseuse whines miserably. “You’re just teasing us!”

“I don’t know why you’re so bothered,” Yoongi notes, “it’s not even for you.”

Perhaps you’d be more bemused by the antics of the boys at the table were it not for your own rampant curiosity. As usual, your days were measured by communal mealtimes (courtesy of the fact that six of you were too lazy to cook for yourselves, and the remaining too were perfectly happy to make enough for you all) but this time, as you enjoyed a pan-seared fish of some sort, the flow of the table was interrupted by the package that Hoseok had so dramatically dropped down in front of him. “What is it on the table for?” you ask in what you hope is a casual, unbothered tone.

Hoseok sighs patiently like he’s been through this before. “It’s to create an atmosphere of anticipation,” he explains importantly. “This is reality TV gold, guys, this is exactly what the editors would put a close-up of right before the ad break.”

Jin furrows his brows. “I don’t think there are ad breaks, Hobi.”

“You get what I mean,” he huffs petulantly before clearing his throat, “anyway, let’s change the topic. Any gossip? Love declarations, plot twists; what have I missed?”

Jungkook opens his mouth, beside him Yoongi quickly places a hand on his thigh, and the younger boy sinks back into his chair. “Just the usual for me.” If you weren’t already looking at him, you might have missed the slip of a smile that he presses his lips together to suppress. “Except for the extra dicks I’ve been sucking.”

“Jungkook!” Yoongi shrieks, before sitting up straight. “Wait. Dicks, plural?”

“Well, yeah, Taehyung can’t fuck Y/n anymore, so…” Jungkook deflects. Across the table, Taehyung wordlessly throws his hands in the air in a ‘what can you do?’ type gesture. “It’s like an emergency relief fund but sex,” the youngest explains, “I’m very generous like that.”

Taehyung’s mouth drops open, his breezy demeanour fading. “Hey! You only sucked my dick because you said my technique was off!”

Jungkook smiles glacially at the rest of you. “I’m a giver,” he continues, “much like Yoongi, I teach on the side.” He pouts at Taehyung. “And your technique was off!”

“It was better than your sloppy toppy!” Taehyung defends. “I wanted a blowjob, not a shower.”

“Listen,” Jin says sharply as Jungkook lets out an offended cry, “the only way you’ll ever know for sure is if you have an objective party to compare the two directly.”

Jungkook harrumps, crossing his arms. “What; are you offering?”

Jin pauses. “To have...my dick sucked twice by two very attractive and enthusiastic people? Yes, yes I am.”

Taehyung narrows his eyes at Jungkook. “You’re so on,” he threatens, “when I win, you have to let me join your stream.”

Jungkook’s already leaving the table, dragging Jin up by a handful of his hoodie. “Such a shame you’re not going to, then,” he taunts, “when you lose, you have to give me a full-body massage and no skimping on the back.”

The rest of you watch in speechless bemusement as Taehyung huffs and throws his chair back, hurrying after them. “Maybe if you didn’t slump in your chair so much, you wouldn’t have a sore back in the first place! Wait, Jungkook, not so fast, I just ate…”

Once the three have left, Yoongi clears his throat. “The gossips have left,” he states carefully, eyes serious as they watch Hoseok, “so what’s in the box?”

Hoseok giggles and claps his hands together, clearly delighted with the attention this box has given me. “You know, the more you ask, the less likely I am to show you.”

Yoongi immediately makes his expression sour, turning up his nose. “I don’t even want to see what’s inside the box,” he insists, “I don’t care at all.”

“Sure thing, hyung.”

The academic is next to have a go. With gentle eyes and shy fingers, Namjoon props his hands on the very edge of the table and looks over to Hoseok. “What if you just showed us one?” he bargains. “It just seems like such a shame to get them delivered all the way over here and not get to show more people.”

Hoseok purses his lips, still unconvinced. At the head of the table, Jimin lets out a scoff and stands up, picking his plate and cup off the table to go discard them in the dishwasher. “It’s going to be something boring,” he drawls, bending over slowly to put away the dishes, letting the table get an eyeful of the tight black jeans he’s wearing. “He’ll wrap Y/n up in rope like tinsel on a Christmas tree and call it BDSM.”

An indignant cry comes from the table as Hoseok watches Jimin reach into the fridge, pulling out a single raspberry from the fruit drawer in there, and grin rakishly at the older man. “That’s not true at all,” Hoseok defends insistently, “I’m just easing her into it. Besides; let me show you something from the box and then we’ll see what you think.”

“How- wha-?” Yoongi’s mouth drops open as Hoseok reaches for the box and uses a knife from the lunch to cut the tape down the middle. “He doesn’t even like you! Why was he the one to convince you?”

Hoseok barely takes note, shielding the opening from your eyes as he digs around inside. It’s near impossible to restrain your curiosity, but you curl your ankles around the chair legs and force yourself to stay seated as he shoves his hand in.

You hear clinks, thuds, and scrapes, before Hoseok lets out a triumphant gasp and pulls his arm up, retrieving a braided leather handle, which he lifts out of the box to reveal a whip of sorts, complete with a neat pile of clean-cut leather strips. Your eyes widen as Hoseok sets it on the table with a weighty thunk, closing the box back up.

“Too boring for you?” Hoseok asks of Jimin with a challenging stare. One finger lazily trails along one of the tails of leather, neatly folded in a gathered loop on the table, making you swallow harshly at the thought of what one of those might feel like lashing across your skin.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Jimin returns to the table, inspecting it slowly. “And what are you going to do with that, big boy? Such a big flogger; I must admit, it seems like you’re overcompensating.”

Hoseok scoffs, a smirk playing at his lips. “I’ve caught you staring enough times, Peaches,” he taunts, “you and I both know that’s not true.”

This time, Jimin seems almost expectant of the nickname, and just rolls his eyes. “I’m surprised you noticed, seeing as your eyes are always locked onto my ass. Bet you wish you had a handful, huh?”

Hoseok frowns, pushing himself away from the table. “Did I eat too much or did the thought of dirtying my hands with you make me physically sick?” he questions rhetorically, making Jimin huff. “Anyways, I’ve got a scene to set up. Best for last, and all that.”

With a flourish, Hoseok picks up the whip - or, as Jimin had said, flogger - handle between two fingers and throws the tail of leather strips over his shoulder, lifting the box into his arms with a light grunt of exertion. Suddenly, he turns his gaze to you, warm but firm. “The downstairs bathroom; be there in half an hour wearing your underwear and only your underwear.”

You suck in a breath when he suddenly leans in close, hoisting the box on his hip as he uses the opposite hand to reach out and fiddle with your bra strap, snapping it against your shoulder with a teasing smile. “If you want to make Master happy,” he says in a voice like crushed velvet, “pick something pretty.”

Hoseok disappears down the hallway with all the drama of a Disney villain, sans a cape to billow behind him, and Yoongi lets out a slow sigh, getting up from his chair. “Well, I’m going to go outside and try and forget about all the debauchery in here. Anyone else?”

Namjoon straightens up immediately, hips bumping against the table. “Sounds good to me,” he rushes out, still looking a little pale from seeing that sneak peek of Hoseok’s box of toys.

Jimin, on the other hand, glances up towards the ceiling with a thoughtful expression. “You two go ahead,” he states, “I think the little ones upstairs could use another judge.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows lift, almost looking like he’s about to reconsider his choice to leave, but Namjoon is already suggesting they could bring out some board games or a pack of cards, and as usual Yoongi is softer than he likes to think he is.

Once everyone has left you alone in the living room, you slump back onto the table, letting out a breath. Your skin is already tingling relentlessly wondering what those strips of leather would feel like raining down on your skin. And that tool must have only been taking up a small portion of that box. It was heavy, full with other surprises that you couldn’t even begin to imagine.

Taking a look at the time, you curse and scamper upstairs to track down something pretty for Hoseok.

It’s impossible to stop your mind from conjuring up countless images of what could be waiting for you. Big posts of metal or wood to tie a sub to, chains and latex and the Hollywood taboo of kink that comes to mind. But in the end, it seems trying to picture anything at all was a useless venture, as when you make it downstairs and knock on the door exactly thirty minutes after Hoseok let you, what’s inside is not anything you would have ever expected.

The bathroom itself is decently large, with flat tile all over, a row of showerheads without the luxury of cubicles, a large bath set into one corner, and a bench with a mirror.

But in the middle of the room, closer to the bench than the showers, sits Hoseok.

There’s nothing around him bar a single empty chair that he inclines his head towards, silently instructing you to sit. You glance around in suspicion, but the cardboard box is folded up just beside him and there’s nothing else to see.

Hoseok himself quite easily takes his spot as the centre of attention, though. As you sit gingerly on the wooden chair, grimacing at the scraping sound of the legs on the floor, you look him over. As usual, he makes his statement in black. Hoseok dons boots that lace up to just below his knees, tight leather pants, and a collared shirt that shimmers slightly in the light, like expensive silk. Around his middle is a belt that tightly cinches his waist, accentuating his chest and shoulders. With his hair parted and slightly curling to one side, you don’t miss the way his eyebrow quirks up. “Are you quite done?”

Your cheeks heat, and you lean back until you can feel the chair digging in. “Sorry.”

“Sorry, who?”

“Sorry, Sir,” you stutter out as quickly as you can, lowering your gaze.

“Dear me, I hope you haven’t forgotten your manners already,” he croons with a faux look of disappointment, crossing a leg over his knee. “Lucky for you, our scene hasn’t started yet. I want to have a little conversation with you first.”

You swallow, eyes darting down to that cardboard box, curiosity eating you up from the inside. “What do you want to talk about, sir?”

Hoseok’s eyes soften slightly and he laces his fingers over the top of his knee. “You and I are going to have a talk together as two adults, princess. I know we have the consent forms and safewords, but this one requires a little more direct communication. Normally in a scene, you’d be kneeling or I’d be standing right now, but I want you to be fully aware that we are having this discussion as equals. Understood? You can ask questions, raise concerns, anything you need.”

Though your heart hasn’t stopped racing, you feel yourself beginning to calm, relieved for a chance to properly prepare yourself and see what’s going to happen. “Yes, understood. Sir.”

Hoseok’s eyes fleck with mirth as he tilts his head. “First of all; are you allergic to soy or paraffin? I know we have the allergy sheets, but I’d feel safer double-checking.”

You frown, brows knitting in confusion. “Soy? Like soy sauce? And no, I’m not allergic to either of them.”

When Hoseok smiles to reveal his teeth, you catch a glimpse of his dom side, even as he maintains a friendly disposition. “Soy candles, princess.”

A flicker of alarm rushes through you, and you clasp your hands together, fiddling your digits to keep calm. “Is this like, pouring hot wax? I don’t know, Hoseok…”

“It wasn’t a hard limit you listed,” Hoseok reminds gently, “has that changed?”

You swallow. “I- no, it hasn’t but it’s still a soft limit, and I don’t know if-”

“That’s why I wanted to sit down and have a talk with you about it,” he explains without missing a beat, “and if, at the end, you want to keep it as a limit, we’ll do something else. I don’t mind forfeiting the challenge and taking a week in the bunks; they’re perfectly comfortable.” You still don’t answer, feeling scarily vulnerable in a bra and lace panties, nothing but a loose satin robe over top to keep you a little warm and covered. Hoseok’s warm expression keeps you anchored. “Wax play isn’t explicitly pain play, it can be sensation play just like running an ice cube over your skin. And I’ve been doing it for years, princess, if you know what you’re doing, it’s perfectly safe. Do you want to hear me out? There are no obligations.”

You suck in a deep breath, taking a second to think. “I want to at least hear you first,” you decide, “but I really don’t know.”

“I understand entirely,” Hoseok says, and a strange change overtakes his face as he bends down to slip open the folds keeping the box closed. It’s a slight lifting of his brows, pursing of his lips while still being relaxed. The almost stern look of a teacher as he pulls out a weighty red candle, rolling it over in his palm. He glances back at you, presenting it. The two of you are seated close enough together that you only have to lean forward to take it from him.

He lets you look over it as he speaks, his voice soothing and practiced. “This is a pillar candle,” he explains, “see how it’s quite girthy? When you light a candle like that, the molten wax pools in the middle. So when you go to tip it, you can control how much wax you want to pour and when. Some people will have at least two candles burning so that they can alternate. These ones are soy, but I brought paraffin too in case you had an allergy.”

Out of curiosity, you dig your nail into the top, by the fresh wick, and watch thick red wax build up under the nail. “Doesn’t it burn you?” you question. “Like it got melted because of actual fire, surely it would burn.”

Hoseok shrugs. “Not with the right wax.” He takes it back from you, flipping it up to show off the base where a small white sticker displays some information about the candle in tiny print. “Soy and paraffin both tend to melt at roughly the same temperature, and it’s low enough that it won’t burn you. The further away you drop it from affects the temperature when it gets to your skin, too. But candles like beeswax melt at a very high temperature. Those can be dangerous, and you’d never catch me or anyone at Red using them. Now-!” Slipping the short, fat candle back into the box with a soft thud, he pulls out a second one. This one is black, and thin with a pointed end at the top. “This one is a taper candle. There’s no room for the wax to build up, so when you light it, it’ll drop the melted wax one drop at a time. The advantage is that it’s handy for constant use, and very easy to maneuver. One of my friends at Red actually uses it in suspension bondage. She’ll tie up her sub and slip a lit taper into the rope somewhere so that it drips on, say, the sub’s back or stomach. You can imagine if you where tied up and blindfolded, feeling a single drop of heat at a time would be a pretty intense experience.”

The dom breaks off with a laugh at the look on your face, and promptly slips it back in the box. “For our purposes, I’m going to use the pillar. It means that I can easily stop at any time and let the wax just sit in that little divot at the top without it getting everywhere. Still with me?”

You nod quickly, shifting on the chair. Perhaps it’s the hypnotic, soothing lilt of his voice as he walks you through it, or perhaps you’re just realising that it’s not as scary as it seems, but that soft limit is getting softer and softer. “You can go on,” you state in a small voice.

Hoseok’s beam is addicting, brightening the room as he lets out a pleased hum and stands up. Instead of approaching you, however, he walks right past to the bench, fiddling with something in the sink there before he’s filling it up. “An important safety measure,” he explains, “is to have a water source nearby. In case it’s too hot, or the candle catches on anything. I’m doing it in here so that there’s not really anything flammable like carpet or curtains, but there’s no such thing as being too safe.”

You watch him shake the water off his hand with a fond smile. He returns to sit across from you, nudging the open box with his foot. “We have some other surprises in here, but nothing too wild apart from the flogger. How are you feeling about it?”

Your heart skips a beat when you recall it, the satisfying whip of air as he threw it over his shoulder earlier. “I’m nervous, but I really want to try it.”

“Excellent,” he says warmly. “And the wax? We can take it slow, try it out a bit and then I’ll check back in, yeah? Just because we’ll be in the scene doesn’t mean this communication is cut off.”

You suck in a slow breath, biting your lip. Hoseok gives you time to think, waiting patiently and without expectation, but you know that you want to at least try chasing that thrill deep inside you. “I wanna give it a go too.”

Hoseok’s look of pride makes your decision feel all the more right. “That’s my girl,” he chimes, “so brave for me.” Without further notice, his eyes darken, and his smile turns less sweet and more sly. “You know Master will make it good for you, right?”

You shiver beneath the thin layer of satin and lace. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl,” he coos, “I want you to make a choice now, princess. I’ll let you choose what you wish to have first? Candles or the flogger?”

You feel slightly paralysed by the sudden decision making, brain already beginning to slow down. “Flogger please, sir.”

“So polite,” he praises, “alright, then. I want you to stand up and take that robe of yours off.”

You do so with a quickening pulse, but Hoseok doesn’t even spare a second glance at you, instead shifting the box over to the bench, pulling out… something that definitely isn’t the flogger.

Hoseok turns to you with a grin, dangling a chain on a single finger. At either end, leather cuffs twirl and bump each other, familiar to ones you’d used on the show before. Unlike the other pair, which were pretty simple and basic, this pair look beautiful enough to be a regular fashion accessory. The leather is thick but not stiff, and they’re done up with silver buckles, adjustable for size. What really catches your attention, however, is the gorgeous red trim of the softest velvet, a deep colour that makes it look unbelievably expensive. As he approaches, you notice that the insides of the cuffs are embossed with the symbol you recognised from the box. Two Rs facing away from each other, with delicately curled strokes.

“Pretty, aren’t they?” Hoseok asks rhetorically. “They’re from the dungeon, if you hadn’t already guessed. Show me your wrists.” You rush to obey, sighing when you feel cool velvet encase around your left wrist, Hoseok deftly fastening the cuff as he continues to talk. “We have a colour code for everyone that comes in our doors. All spectators wear a simple black wristband. If you’re there to play, doms get armbands and subs get cuffs. Green means free use, anyone inside those walls wearing a cuff or a armband can play with you-” he doesn’t miss the way you shudder at the concept of being totally at the mercy of a roomful of strangers, arms pulling closer to your sides defensively, “-blue means looking. You’re open to negotiation, but there needs to be a kink negotiation and mutual agreement before you begin to play.” Hoseok moves to your other wrist, making sure the cuff is snug, but not cutting off circulation. “Can you guess what red means, princess?”

You can’t bear to look away from the gorgeous cuffs that adorn your wrists. You can feel the weight of the chain that connects them as it swings below. “Taken,” you offer in an uncertain voice.

“That’s right.” Even though you aren’t looking directly at him, you can sense Hoseok’s grin. He gracefully hooks the chain on his finger, lifting it up and tugging it to watch your wrists jerk towards him. “And can you guess why I picked red for you?”

You think you know the answer. But you become overcome with the desire to hear him say it. You lift your gaze to his, shaking your head slowly. “I don’t know.”

Hoseok sees right through you, tilting his head. “I think you do,” he counters, “but I’ll happily tell you.” He yanks again, making you stumble forward into his chest. With an arm bracing you against him, Hoseok bends down to murmur in your ear. “Because you’re mine.” With the teasing slowness of a cat playing with its food, he brushes your hair back, fingertips light against the bare skin of your neck and shoulders. “Do you want to know something funny? The entire time you’ve been in there, you haven’t thought to look up.”

It happens quickly. Just as you lift your chin to seek out what he’s referring to, you feel a pull on your wrists. Hoseok’s grip on you loosens but the tug on your wrists continues until they’re stretching right up above you. The moment you set your eyes on the hook dangling from the ceiling - what looks like thick, industrial grade steel - you see the chain loop onto it and suddenly you can’t drop your arms anymore.

You tug them, a natural instinct to escape the hold, and the unforgiving way your body is stretched out makes your chest pound a little with alarm,heels only just resting on the floor. Hoseok’s hands are on you, palms hot as they smooth up and down your sides and back, soothing you. Your racing pulse starts to slow, even as your arms tremble.

“That’s better,” he remarks, tongue flicking out to lick his lips. “Would you believe that hook was there when we came?”

Your lips twitch. “Honestly? No, sir.”

He flicks you a wink, patting your ass fondly. “You would be surprised. Used to be a fixture for a chandelier. Who the fuck needs a chandelier in a bathroom?” You suppress a laugh, knowing that your nervous giggles will get the best of you if you give them a chance, but Hoseok sees that he’s managed to calm you down quite a bit, and slips back into the velvety depths of his dominant persona once again. His hand hasn’t moved from your ass, and you suck in a sharp breath through your nose as his fingers slip beneath the lace, gripping the flesh there, unable to move away from it.

“I’ve been waiting for this, you know,” he starts with a casual air, massaging your ass openly even as his eyes stay fixed on yours, monitoring your every expression, “been waiting to turn that pretty ass of yours red. Let’s take these pretty panties of yours off first.”

You relax your thighs to let the strip of fabric sneak past, and when he bares your bottom half, tucking the cream-coloured lace into his back pocket, you shiver for a different reason entirely. You feel the wetness between your thighs begin to run down now that it’s unhindered by your panties, and your nipples are stiff, begging to be touched.

Hoseok isn’t so merciful, however, and when he glances down and sees them, he flicks lightly at one with an amused chuckle. “Desperate little one, aren’t you? Now, princess, I’m going to go over to the bench and get my flogger. Are you okay here alone? I’m not leaving you; I’ll only be out of your sight for a moment.”

The tile feels so cold and unforgiving under your toes as you shift, the chain preventing you from going far. “Yes, sir,” you say, but Hoseok clearly senses your hesitance.

Eyes imploring, warm yet serious, he tips up your chin with his knuckles gently. “Do you trust me? I’ll be no more than ten seconds. How about this? In your head, chant ‘Master is a good kisser’ three times, and I’ll be back.”

Your eyes round, wetting your lips. “How would I kn-umph!” Your question is cut off prematurely as Hoseok ducks down and demonstrates; a firm, bruising kiss that’s only heightened by the bondage restricting your movements. You can’t touch him, or move closer. You just have to sit and take it, and your mind feels heady as his lips press roughly against yours, teeth tugging on your lower lip enough to sting. By the time he pulls away, you feel breathless, the tension of the cuffs the only thing keeping you on your feet.

Hoseok gently buffs you on the cheek with another wink. “Don’t forget the magic words, princess,” he chimes, “I’ll be right back.”

And, though only two weeks ago the feeling of having him out of sight and out of reach had freaked you out to the point of safewording, the tingle in your lips and that admittedly accurate mantra - Master is a good kisser - keep your mind occupied enough that before you reach the end of the third recitation, Hoseok has stepped back into your line of vision, giving you an expectant look. “Still with me?”

“Yes, sir.” You nod with it, though you can’t bring yourself to look at him, so captivated by the flogger in his hand. He holds it like a seasoned expert, which you don’t doubt he is. The handle is black braided leather, with two thicker balls on either end like a dumbbell, no doubt for ease of grip. His hand wraps around the narrower middle section, but loose enough that his fingers look relaxed around it. Though he holds the handle upright slightly, the strips of leather fall straight down in a single cascade, neatly kept together.

Observing your trained eye, Hoseok laughs and steps closer, sliding the leather over his palm to display it for you. “Shall we have a quick lesson? This here is a perfect beginner’s flogger. Perfectly balanced with a weighted handle and clean-cut leather. These strips here, they’re called falls. The less you have or the thinner they are, the more it stings like a whip would. This one has probably around 30, 35 falls. Proper garment leather. Expensive, but well-crafted.” His hand shifts, clasping around the ends, which he spreads apart with a thumb. “You see how the ends are rounded? Some falls have forked tips, pointed tips, or straight-cut ones. The pointier it is, the sharper the sensation. Rounded tips are best for a newbie like you.”

Suddenly, he drops the ends, letting them revert back to their single stream of leather spouting from the handle. The quick movement makes your eyes automatically jump up to his face, and you suck in a breath at how intense his gaze is on you. “You need to be very clear where your limits are, princess. Tell me if I’m going too hard. This is painplay, but it should still be pleasurable. Understood?”

You swallow. Now, with your body almost entirely naked, your body restrained and a very practiced dom standing in front of you with a flogger, the concept of pain is a little more concrete. But still, you trust him, and his ability to make it feel good for you. “Understood, sir.”

“Good.” Hoseok steps back, giving himself some distance as he eyes you up. With a smooth motion, his wrist begins to flick, and you instinctually recoil when the falls of the flogger start flying through the air in a graceful arc. They’re uniform in both width and length, probably just about as long as Hoseok’s arm, which stays perfectly still as he isolates the movement in his joint. Even if you weren’t in the metaphorical hot seat, this show of excellence and practiced skill would nevertheless add to the coil of arousal between your legs. He looks good like this, fully in his element. “Now,” he states, smirking at your telling reaction, “normally the best spots are the back of the shoulders, and the ass. But something tells me you’d rather see what I’m doing before letting me loose behind you. Would I be right in thinking that?”

You picture him going behind you and beginning to whip you with no context or warning. You nod your head quickly. “Yes please, sir.”

Hoseok smiles, slowing his wrist, before he begins flicking it the opposite way, the ends of the flogger curving downwards towards you instead of upwards. “Now, this flogger is a little thuddier than what I’d usually use on breasts, but since I’m only going to be very light, it’ll be just fine.”

You try to inch backwards, but the chain rattles and gives you away. “My breasts?”

Hoseok’s hand stills, his head cocking to one side as his brows come together. “Is there a problem, princess?”

His disapproval is clear, and you get the feeling that you’re treading on thin ice. But he said that communication wouldn’t stop here, so you forge ahead. “I’m not protesting, I’m just curious, sir. Why not somewhere easier like the stomach?”

Distaste wracks his features. “This isn’t going anywhere near your stomach,” he says firmly, “the organs there are unprotected. Anything vulnerable - joints, spine, the stomach and lower back, of course the head - they’re all off-limits. Do you understand that?” When he receives a nod, the line of tension in Hoseok’s shoulders relaxes. “Now, I need you to move your head back so that it’s between or behind your arms. Can you do that for me?”

Pushing your head through the gap in your upper arms, you shift until your whole face is between them, chin tilted slightly up. “May I ask why, sir?” you request in a small voice. Why did this whole thing feel so technical? And why were you still so wet from it?

“You may,” Hoseok replies bemusedly, “it just distances your face from the swings. Don’t worry-” he interjects quickly when your eyes widen in alarm, “the falls will be nowhere near your face. It’s just for our peace of mind. Do you still trust me?”

You manage to nod with your face bracketed by your arms, and with a rush of anticipation, watch Hoseok start up those quick circles, the leather whipping through the air in one bunch. Instead of stretching his arm forward, he steps in slowly, moving the falls getting closer and closer until the smooth stroke of impact flicks across your right breast.

You gasp, out of shock more than anything, but those strokes deliver a regular pattern, and it’s already lacing across your skin again, and again, an odd feeling that certainly isn’t unpleasant. There’s a distinct feeling of impact, without any real weight behind it, and the slightest hint of a sting that just serves to gradually warm the skin. Your chest is heaving, but Hoseok lands each blow with perfect accuracy, even stepping side-on between arcs and switching breasts.

The constant snap of contact helps you get used to it and calm down, and you can’t deny that it feels kind of...nice? There’s something satisfying and freeing about feeling those split second granules of pain and tolerating them, overcoming them. It doesn’t take long before you unconsciously arch your spine, seeking out something more than just light swats from the very tips of the falls.

Hoseok notices the moment you move and, frustratingly, he stops with a chuckle. “Did that turn you on, princess? Do you want more?”

You whine, tipping your head back further so he disappears out of your sight. Against the skin of your inner arms, your cheeks are raging hot. “Yes,” you admit in a defeated voice when he refuses to move on.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir?” you quip with a hopeful tone.

“Nice try,” Hoseok replies flatly, “I want you to say it, princess. Yes, what?”

You bite your lip, squeezing your eyes shut. There’s only silence. The heat has already left your breasts, and they feel strange without that lick of leather on them. “I want more, please, sir.”

“Good girl,” Hoseok coos, and in reward you feel the now-welcome flick of the falls on your breasts. This time, however, he stands directly across from you and twists his wrist over, casting figure eights, alternating left and right. You tremble at the feeling, squirming under it. Though it’s still light, every strike feels even more intense on your nipples, shooting sensation right between your legs.

“Sir,” you gasp out, “I w-want some more, sir.”

Hoseok answers without faltering, and his voice easily carries over the sound of the flogger. “Oh, do you? I can’t go any harder on these pretty little tits of yours, princess.” He pulls away, ceasing the motion. “If you want to continue, I’m going to have to go behind you. Are you okay with that?”

You push your reddened chest forward to no avail. “Fuck! Hoseok, yes, I’m okay with it,” you whine, unable to resolve any of the need in your core, needing more. Hoseok clicks his tongue in disapproval, and you curse internally at the slip. “Sir! Sorry, I’m okay with it, sir.”

“You better not forget your manners,” Hoseok warns, taking one step at a time, boots thudding on the tile as he circles you. “I’m flogging you for pleasure, because I like to treat and train you, but if you do that again, I can easily turn this into a punishment.”

The thought makes you moan, and your wrist jerks as you fruitlessly try to cover your mouth. Actually relieved he’s behind you for once, you let your head duck forward, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Hoseok chuckles. “It seems like you’re more of a painslut than you realise, princess,” he teases, and you’re given no warning before you feel a strike against your ass, making you jump with a yelp. Though it’s the same light figure eights as just before, these ones whip up from the bottom, so that every hit lands on the meat of your ass, avoiding your lower back. If the ones before were easy, these feel like child’s play. Whether you’ve gotten more used to the sensation, or the skin on your ass just isn’t as sensitive, you find yourself immediately wanting more, trying to lean back into it.

The dom isn’t pleased. “Did I say you could move?”

You don’t answer, hands reaching up to grip the chains that bind them as you bite down harshly on your tongue. “I can take more, sir,” you begin, but Hoseok cuts you off with a gruff noise of disapproval.

“Did I say you could move?” he repeats sharply.

You whine low in your throat. “No, sir,” you admit, “but I can-” You yelp and flinch when a single swat hits below the swell of your ass, across your thighs. It feels different there, stingier and less hazily pleasant. “I’m sorry-”

“That’s right, I didn’t,” Hoseok’s voice comes from behind you, cold and unforgiving. “In fact, I hung you up here to keep you still for me, so that I could play with you as I wished. If you insist on defying that, I’ll quite happily fetch a spreader bar so that you can’t move an inch.”

You furrow your brows, hating the feeling of making him mad. Hating even more that the sharpness in his tone and the filthy word he says just make you even needier, tightening your thighs together. “I’m sorry, sir, I’ll behave,” you mumble shamefully.

You jump slightly when you feel something on your ass again, but it’s just his hand, cupping the flesh. “I’m doing this to warm you up. For your own safety. I’ve been doing this for years, princess, don’t forget that Master knows best.”

“Master knows best,” you repeat mindlessly, feeling yourself begin to slip. It’s a comforting thought just as much as it is an arousing one; Master knows what he’s doing, and all you need to do is take it.

“Exactly.” Hoseok sounds pleased, and just as your heart lifts in relief, the hits resume.

Eyes slipping closed, you let yourself tune everything else out. When you focus, when you really actively feel it, you can recognise every shift in his posture, or change in angle by how it feels on your skin. The strips of leather lash up, gradually causing the skin to heat up as the thuddy feeling stays longer and longer after each strike.

Before he ups the intensity, he simply speeds up his strokes, and you let out a pleased whine as the constant ebb and flow of pleasure-softened pain lull you deeper. The more you take, the less it hurts at all, even as the skin on your ass feels like it’s radiating heat.

The warmth floods to the rest of your body until even your toes aren’t cold against the tile. You feel like you could stand here forever, strung up and lost in the sensations he’s giving you. In fact, those dull edges of pain are so soothing that it feels almost therapeutic, worries and aches melting away, irrelevant in this space.

Hoseok finally deems your skin is sufficiently warmed up, and you whimper when the hits shift. Instead of friendly, playful flicks of leather, every strike echoes in the room, the thud of impact delivering a bolder note of pain.

Not that it’s bad, though. On the contrary, if the earlier flogging was lulling you into a sleepy bliss, these ones wake you up like a burst of energy with every swing. Without even realising, a dopey grin stretches your cheeks, and you find yourself no longer trying to muffle the pleased sighs that stutter out with every flick of Hoseok’s wrist.

“Fuck, look at you,” the dom croons, “a painslut indeed. You’re dripping onto the tiles, naughty girl.”

You moan openly, knuckles aching with how tightly you’re gripping the chains that hook your cuffs to the steel loop above. Your pussy aches with the need to be touched, but to do that Hoseok would have to stop whipping you, and your mind hisses at the thought. All you want is more, you can take more, you want to show him, to show yourself you can take more. Every burst of pain on your flesh is another victory, and it feels euphoric.

You stay in this headspace for a while as Hoseok maintains the same, regular hits. Eventually, the scream for more overwhelms you, and you seek out something more intense the quickest way you know how - disobedience. “Hoseokie,” you whine, “hit me harder.”

You could sob when his hand freezes, the next strike coming down without any bite, just a loose draping of the leather falls. As they linger on the skin, you realise just how sensitive and raw it’s gotten, feeling every edge of leather in sharper clarity. Hoseok holds it there for a moment, then drops, the silence in the room palpable. “Are you giving me orders? And without the proper title, no less.”

Pain bursts across your skin like a line of fire, the sharpest and strongest hit yet. Like the one across your thighs, this comes at an angle instead of the upstrokes of his circles or figure eights. You can imagine him holding it back, and whipping it down with a single, swift flick. The residue heat on your ass just makes you want another.

Instead of another hit, however, you cry out when you feel nails digging into the flesh, not scraping, just groping the globes of your ass in each hand. You can even feel the stiff leather of the handle pressing into your flesh on one side, and you whine at the sensation.

“I know what you want, princess,” Hoseok growls, his voice startlingly close as his breath wafts hot on the back of your neck. “And if painplay was the purpose of the scene, perhaps I’d whip you until you cried like you deserve.”

You sob. “Master, please-”

“It’s too late for that,” he cuts off sharply. “The time for begging is over. You’ve disappointed me. I was going to lift up your legs and fuck you right here, but you’ve showed me that you don’t deserve that yet.”

Unprecedented, your eyes brim with tears. Hoseok slips back into your line of sight, face stern as he tucks the handle of the flogger in his belt at the back, and reaches up to unhook you. Your legs are weak, but he carries your weight with ease, letting the chain dangle around the back of his neck as he walks you over to the bench.

Instead of propping you up on it, or sitting you on a chair, he helps you lie down on the cool tile, an immediate balm for the deep-set heat radiating from your ass. Even as his face is stiff with disapproval, he handles you so gently, ensuring you don’t knock your head on the way down.

“Just stay here a moment,” he murmurs, brushing your hair out of your eyes, “calm down a little bit. I have some candles to light.”

You feel strangely floaty, your emotions all over the place, but Master had asked you to calm down, so you try your best to settle them. It’s not a bad sensation once you relax a bit. Need burns fiercely between your thighs, but the last thing you want to do is upset him by breaking the rules, so you simply let your eyes slip closed and your thighs clench together. You’ll wait until Hoseok comes back to you, and then you’ll make things right by being extra good. The thought of pleasing him makes you smile, and when Hoseok’s voice wraps around you, checking that you’re still with him, it’s only too easy to chirp a contented, “yes, sir.”

When he returns, he’s slipping one hand under your head and the other behind your back, lifting you ever-so-slowly so that your head doesn’t spin. Once you’re up, you lean forward and cling to him, wanting nothing more than to be close. Hoseok lazily cards his fingers through your hair. “You’ve misbehaved,” he states slowly, “you haven’t earned an orgasm, princess, but I’m soft on you. I’ll give you the chance to win one, how about that?”

You blink dazedly, feeling clarity begin to seep back in. “Win?”

Pulling back, Hoseok smirks down at you. “We’re going to play a little game, you and I. Come; I want you on your hands and knees.”

Hoseok guides you over, though you’ve mostly gotten your strength back. On the floor, near the box, are two lit pillar candles. The flames dance cheerily, leaving behind wells of molten wax. One is the red candle you’d inspected earlier, and the other is a pure white, the wax melting clear. You prop yourself up on your hands and knees beside it, but the dom quickly corrects you, leading you to instead assume the position over the box, which almost reaches your stomach.

Upon receiving your questioning look, Hoseok rubs one hand over your reddened ass cheeks, soothing the flesh. “I don’t want you losing your balance and creating a large angle,” he explains shortly, “the wax could drip forward into your hair or, worse, drip back where I’m sure you don’t want it.”

You shudder at the thought, your pulse steadily quickening as the reality of what he’s about to do sets in. This feels even more unfamiliar and alien than the flogging did at the beginning, but you feel safe beneath his touch.

Hoseok gets on his knees behind you, and you could cry in relief when you hear a belt buckle clink, and then a zip lower. It takes no time at all for you to feel the blunt head of Hoseok’s cock pressing against your entrance until it begins to sink in.

You moan, arching your back enough that you fee the texture of cardboard on your stomach. After only receiving external stimulation - pain, nonetheless - until now, suddenly being speared on his tongue has you speechless, tongue heavy in your mouth and drool pooling in your cheeks.

“Feel good, princess?” Hoseok questions, giving your raw ass a playful swat when you cry out the affirmative. “I bet it does.” But when he bottoms out, leaving you deliciously full, he remains perfectly still. “Sadly, that’s all you’ll get for now. Do you want to hear the rules of the game?”

You sob lowly in your throat, elbows almost buckling as your walls clench around the unmoving intrusion. “Please, sir.”

“I’m going to write a word on you, princess. A special word. But it just so happens that I don’t have a pen on me, so I’ll use this wax instead.” The glimpses of red and white blink out of your peripheral as Hoseok drags them closer to himself. “You can guess each letter, and if you manage to get the word right once I’m finished, then I’ll let you cum. Does that sound fair?” Your reply is garbled, incoherent, but Hoseok doesn’t seem bothered. “Then let’s begin. Pay close attention, now.”

Your body naturally tenses up, eyes squeezed shut as you wait for a burst of pain, of searing heat. When something touches your skin, you automatically cry out, but quickly realise that it doesn’t hurt at all, instead, it’s like viscous warm water that slowly stiffens on your skin as it cools. The tightness in your chest loosens.

“That was a test patch, princess,” Hoseok says in a calm voice, devoid from his usual dom smugness. “Too hot? Not hot enough?”

You swallow. “It wasn’t hot,” you admit, “it’s not bad.”

“Understood,” he confirms, squeezing your hip in reassurance as you clench again around him, but the safety monitor Hoseok quickly takes a backseat to the Master persona. “First letter, princess. I’ll only do each one once.”

This time, when lines of warmth bloom on your back, concentrated in the top corner by your shoulder blade, you focus your mind on picturing the shapes they create. Something straight, then a small loop. The wax isn’t painful; on the contrary, it doesn’t feel hot when it first makes contact. As it sits, the skin heats up, but before it gets too warm, the wax has already cooled to mostly solid. Your fears melt away fully, and you tune back into the game. “D?” you guess.

“Close,” he allows.

You rack your mind. “P?”

You moan when Hoseok’s cock suddenly moves inside you, pulling out slowly and giving you a single, snapped thrust. “Correct,” he confirms, “next letter.”

This one feels similar, starting with the same straight line, slightly to the right of where the first patch fell. A straight line, something wobbly again with a line to end it. Your breath catches. “R? Is the word ‘princess?’”

“Guessing so soon,” Hoseok chimes, humour lacing his voice, “but wrong on both counts. It’s a vowel.”

You go down the list, comparing them against the already-fading memory of thick warmth on your skin. “E- no, A?”

“A is correct. This one’s easy.” After fucking into you once another time, he does a single stroke that you easily identify as an I, and then you hear the thud as he puts down one candle and picks up the other. “Let’s see how you look in red, princess. Next letter.”

It gets harder and harder to correctly name the letters as you go on. With every right answer, you’re rewarded with a second of pleasure before it ceases, and that paired with the arousing feeling of warm wax drizzling over your skin just has you feeling hazy. It takes you whole minutes to guess N, but lucky it’s followed by simple strokes of S, L, and U.

By the time he’s switched wax a couple times and is readying you for the last letter, you already know the word. But Hoseok drops the wax from a little lower every time, and you relish the heat more and more with each letter, and you’ll take whatever else you can get.

At this point, the only space left on you is low on your back, just in from your waist. You squeeze your eyes shut, already knowing that he’s going to paint two strokes: one horizontal and one vertical. So instead, you allow yourself to just feel it for what it is.

He tips the pillar candle - red or white, you’ve long since lost track - and you moan openly as you feel fluidity, then heat, which crests and settles into a seal of solid wax. Hoseok wastes no time before completing the letter, one longer line going down in a thick trail that threatens to drip down your side.

“‘s T,” you slur out before he can even ask, tightening your walls around him as he snaps his hips a single time so that you can feel every inch of him. Even the sound of the one movement is obscene; you’re so wet that it runs down your thighs and soaks his cock, but Hoseok’s not complaining.

Instead, you whine as you feel his nails on your shoulder, dislodging the fully hardened wax from the beginning. It’s a strange sensation, there’s a minute suction to breaking that seal, but it lifts off so smoothly when he’s careful like that. “And can you tell me the word, princess? I picked it out just for you.”

Sighing out, you nod shakily. “Painslut,” you gasp.

“That’s right,” Hoseok replies warmly, even as his nails curl and drag down rough enough to crumble the wax in his path, leaving stinging lines over your skin. “You’re my little painslut, aren’t you? Say it, and I’ll give you your reward.”

“I’m your little painslut,” you moan out, back arching under the relentless way he dislodges slivers of dried wax, exposing the sensitive skin beneath.

Without further preface, Hoseok bends over to quickly blow out the two candles, shift them further away, and then straightens up to grip your hips with hands slightly slippery from the soy.

When he begins fucking into you properly, with the full force of his powerful hips, you’re pushed forward onto the cardboard box, a cry punched from your throat. He doesn’t wait this time, just as steady and unforgiving as the circles his flogger made earlier.

You feel the weight of his balls slapping against you, his hip bones pressing into your sensitive ass, and his nails dig in sharply to give you that delicious pain that had become just as potent as pleasure. You feel him inside you, too; mercilessly parting your walls and stretching you around him until it feels like you can’t breathe.

Your mouth spills a constant stream of garbled moans and pleas, doing your best to fuck yourself back on him to feel him deeper. “Fuck, Master, I’m so close,” you manage to make out, “can I cum, sir?”

Hoseok growls deep in his throat, and you squeal helplessly as his pace picks up until you can’t even stop yourself from drooling onto the tile, jerked about within his grip. “Cum for me, princess,” he commands, “cum on my cock now.”

In your body’s final effort to please your Master, your orgasm follows only a few thrusts later, and you go limp and shivery against the support of the cardboard box, clinging to it as Hoseok chases his own high.

Having cum from g-spot stimulation alone, the orgasm seems to reach as deep as your bones, and you ride the wave longer. By the time you’re finally beginning to come down, pleasure slowly turning to oversensitivity, Hoseok’s thrusts are stuttering, and he’s suddenly pulling out of you, grunting as a different kind of heat spurts over your back.

You’re panting, hugging the box you’re curled over as you feel Hoseok’s cum run down the divot of your spine, slowly cooling. You can still feel the dry flakes of wax that cling to you, and even as Hoseok gently helps you off the solid tile floor, you see shavings and slivers of red and white falling to the ground.

Hoseok’s dropped the Master persona entirely by now, and you hum happily as he checks you over, fingertips running across the skin of your back and ass. “No pain still persisting?”

“Well, my ass still kinda stings,” you admit, “but nothing seriously painful, no.”

He furrows his brows in concern as he straightens up in front of you. “And the wax was okay?”

You smile shyly and a little dopily, still coasting on the endorphins the pain and temperature play had released. “I’m probably going to go to Sejin and get him to change it to a definite interest, actually. It was great, Hoseok. You were great. Thank you.”

Hoseok’s eyes warm as he fondly buffs you on the underside of your chin. “Well; I say we have a nice shower and clean you up, and then we can go into the kitchen for some ice cream. Get your sugar levels back up, how about that?”

You could laugh, but you feel too blissed out to even exert that much energy. “I’m not sure there’s any ice cream left, actually.”

FAN FAVOURITE

Please vote for your favourite member in the house according to Week Three only. Vote here. You need to sign in to prevent spamming, but I delete the survey after the 48 hours is up. All I take note of is the pie chart at the end. I’m very excited to see what the results will be !

And so we meet our fourth guest... Confused? Check bonus content four, five and six for the other three teasers ;)

#cypherwritersnet #bts smut #jin smut #hoseok smut #bts x reader #hoseok x reader #jin x reader #yoongi x reader #namjoon x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #ot7 x reader #ot7 smut #taehyung smut #jimin smut #namjoon smut #yoongi smut

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heyheydidjaknow · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 11

Guess who's back? Back again. Back three hours late, but back nonetheless. I'd feel more sorry if I was more sorry. This is officially the longest chapter as of now, so, yay. Someone challenged me to not swear for a chapter, and I believe I fulfilled that requirement. I'm just gonna go sleep.

Update: APPARENTLY, TUMBLR DOES THE TRANSFER FORMATTING THING ON LAPTOPS AND I HATE EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE RIGHT NOW SO MUCH. I usually do all my editing on my phone, so I knew no such luxury. I have never been more pissed. That is a lie, but my anger is still very genuine.

Chapter 11

“Where were you?”

The younger brother looks up at his senior. “Huh?”

“You were gone all night.” Leonardo leans against the door, crossing his arms. “Don’t look so surprised; I started getting up early to meditate.”

He shrugs in feigned nonchalance, already dreading the ensuing conversation. “Out.”

“And where’s ‘Out’?”

Donnie slides out of his chair, deciding his straining eyes need a break. “Just went to check on Y/N is all.” He rubs them with his arm, quietly noting the sounds of fighting in the dojo were starting to cease as he sits on the couch. His rounds of sparring with Leonardo were finished a little over an hour ago; a part of him is grateful it took him this long to corner him.

This got a raised brow. “You were checking on her for hours?”

He does not look him in the eye. “It’s not impossible.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“It wasn’t that late,” he argues.

“Donnie,” he presses, “you didn’t get home until five in the morning. Where were you?”

He feels his face heat up. “I said.”

Leo leans down to look his brother in the eye. “Final answer?”

He swallows a yawn. “Look, I know it was stupid—”

“I didn’t say it was stupid.”

“No,” he snips, mildly irritable from a lack of sleep. “You implied it.”

The doors to the dojo slide open, the disgruntled look on Raphael’s face all the evidence the other two need to know who won.

Mikey dives onto the couch, sprawling out next to his slightly older brother. “Did you ask yet?”

“I did.” He glances at the disgruntled boy. “Donnie was, apparently, at Y/N’s all night.”

The reaction is immediate.

“Details!” The small victor sits up, leaning forward on his knees in usual attentiveness. “Was she good?”

“What did you—shut up, Mikey.” Raph’s attention snaps back to his tallest brother. “What did you do to her? Did you—”

“Wait, hold on!” Donnie’s face feels uncomfortably hot. “N-Nothing happened!”

“Yeah, sure.” The second eldest rolls his eyes. “You think we fell off the truck yesterday? Who stays with a girl all night in her room without something happening? Nobody,” he cuts him off before he can defend himself.

The youngest’s voice rises over his brother’s before he can continue. “Dude, big picture!” He gestures to his brown-eyed brother. “He got with a girl first! He has valid info or whatever he says and stuff!”

“What are you two even talking about?” He wrings his hands. “Look, nothing happened!”

“Then what were you doing at her house,” Raphael eggs. “You weren’t just sitting there, right?”

“… no.”

“Then what were you doing there?”

He pauses, the two excitable boys waiting on bated breath. “She wanted me to spend the night,” he explains carefully, “because she was having bad nightmares and didn’t want to sleep alone.” He leans back, tossing his hands in the air. “That’s all.”

Silence falls.

“So,” clarifies Raphael, “you spent however many hours in her room, in her bed, and you didn’t make a move?”

“I—look!” The conversation is taking a shift for the worse. “I was trying to be nice! The last thing she needed was me doing whatever you’re insinuating!”

“He has a point,” Michelangelo nods knowingly. “Brownie points are key.”

“When did I say I was doing this for brownie points?”

“Look,” the eldest interjects. “Regardless of whether or not he was doing the ‘smart’ thing—” air quotes, “my bigger concern is that you didn’t bother calling to let us know where you were. You could’ve—Raph, do you have something to say?”

He rolls his eyes. “Are you really gonna act like you wouldn’t do the exact same thing if it were you?”

The leader pauses. “Would you like to take this somewhere more private?”

“Sure.” A venomous smile curls Raph’s lips. “Dojo?”

“Bring it.”

As the two leave, Donnie looks back over at Mikey. “Okay,” he sighs, “did I miss something?”

A shrug. “Man," he grins brazenly, "bold of you to assume I follow half of the things you guys say.”

He pulls his T-Phone from his utility belt. “Do you think I did the right thing? Honestly?”

Another shrug. “I dunno.” He looks over his older brother’s shoulder, reading the text on the screen curiously. “Can’t have gone too bad, though, if you two’ve been textin’ all day.

He pushes his head away with his free hand. “It hasn’t been all day,” he corrects. “She just filled me in on this week’s episode and we just kept talking after that.” He smiles faintly. “Although, she did check to see if I got home alright.”

“Hey, that’s totally progress!” He grins encouragingly. “I mean, the bed thing was bigger progress, but this is also progress.”

You push through the turnstile with a bit of difficulty, hopping on your good leg as you pull the walker over the divider using your free hand with an embarrassing clatter. “Sorry,” you wince, feeling your face heat up as you slide down the railing. “I’m still getting used to—”

“Holy—are you alright?” The distress is apparent in the youngest’s voice as he sees you for the first time in a month. “You look like you—”

“I’m aware,” you cut him off dryly, holding a paper bag as you stumble over to the couch. “Whatever you’re about to say, I’m aware.” You put it down in Donnie’s lap. “Here.”

He blinks, picking it up as you regain your bearings. “What is it?”

“Not poison or snakes. Open it.”

“Yo,” Mikey interrupts, pointing at your banged-up leg, “can I draw on your white thing?”

It takes you a second to figure out what he is referring to. “Oh, you mean—yeah.” You lean your head back against the back of the couch. “Just know that I’ll take white-out to anything that could get me kicked out of school.”

“Deal!” He runs off to your room as his brother pulls the bag open, pulling the pastry from its confinement.

“What is it,” he repeats, icing already on his fingers.

“Cupcake.”

He fingers the wrapper, his brick stare seeming almost to dissect it. “What is it for?”

“Besides being messy?” You smile gently as you watch him try to figure it out, feeling your heart swell. “It’s food.”

“How much of it is edible?”

“Everything except the paper bit.”

He peels the liner back. “And how do you eat it, exactly?”

You lean forward on your arms. “The goal is to eat the frosting and the cake part at the same time, so however you accomplish that.”

He smiles sheepishly, eyes softening as he looks back at you. “Is it possible to eat it without the frosting getting on your face?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

He tentatively holds eye contact with you as he takes a bite, unsurprisingly getting icing sticking to the space around his upper lip. You wait tentatively as he licks the excess off, blinking in delighted surprise. “What’s in this, exactly?”

You feel yourself beam at his tone. “It’s nothing too special,” you shrug nonchalantly, bubbling with excitement. “It’s a personal favorite; red velvet with cream cheese frosting.”

He takes another bite. “Do you have more? Follow-up question,” you note his speech quickening, “can you make more?”

“Totally,” you nod in agreement. “I wanted to make you something as thanks for—”

“Back!”

Donnie shoves the rest of it in his mouth as soon as you two hear him.

“Sorry for the wait; I couldn’t find my stuff.” He plops down with a cardboard box filled with various discarded art supplies. “I’d use spray paint, but he—” he nods to his brother, currently trying to choke the rest of the cupcake down—“said I’m not allowed because of fumes or somethin’, so.”

“Fair.” You allow him to drape your calf over his legs, digging into the cardboard box he was carrying and pulling out a pencil. “Got any plans?”

“You’ll see,” he grins, starting to sketch shapes out.

The taller of the two wipes the excess frosting off his fingers. “Oh,” he snaps his fingers, “when you two are done with that, Y/N, I still gotta do that physical.”

“Physical?”

He clears his throat in preparation for a very redundant explanation. “A physical,” he explains calmly to his over-excited brother, “as in a physical examination, not whatever you’re thinking of.”

He blinks. “Like a doctor’s visit?”

“Donnie was asking about my recovery time,” you add helpfully. “Apparently, it’s weirdly long, but I don’t have any weird medical problems, so he wanted to see what the deal was.”

“That, and your comment about how ‘insanely high’ we jump, apparently.”

“Do not air quote that!” You lean your head back to look at him, hair falling onto his lap. “Not when you guys put high jumping to shame.”

He adamantly avoids eye contact, face warming. “It’s not that high,” he mumbles. “Especially if we’re bringing a sport like high jumping into this.”

“I respectfully disagree.” You lay your head down properly, looking up at him from his thighs. “Considering your falling form, it is a miracle you still have working hips.”

“What’s wrong with my form?”

“It doesn’t include a parachute.”

“Okay,” Mikey interjects, “it may not last unless you cover it with something. Just, FYI.”

You lean your head up to look at him. “Noted,” you nod. “I’ll pick up varnish or something on my way home.”

He nods. “Oh,” he asks innocently, “mind turning over? I have to get the other side and I don’t want to hurt you.”

For some inexplicable reason, the boy you are currently laying on looks as though someone has put a gun to his head.

You do as asked with a bit of difficulty, bringing your knee closer to your chest as it is now closest to the back of the couch. “Like that?”

“Perfect. Thanks.”

You look up at Donnie. “Let me know if you need me to move,” you smile. “If your thighs go numb or anything.”

His voice is oddly tight. “You’re good.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Sure? You sound very uncomfortable.”

“Never better.”

“He’s alright,” Mikey reassures you, shooting a thumbs up at his brother behind your back.

“...Alright.” Your eyes focus absentmindedly on what you thought was a couch cushion; upon further inspection, it appears to be a repurposed training mat. You bring the arm not currently pinned to your side under your head, humming an earworm softly.

The boy currently under you is silently panicking as your fingers squeeze gently around his knee, making a conscious effort to stare at the television and only at the television with his hands hovering awkwardly over you. Surprisingly enough, out of the corner of his eye, he does not catch his younger brother trying to stare at you weirdly, sincerely focused on drawing.

You feel him, eventually, resting his hands down, one resting in between your shoulder blades, the other in your hair, twisting a lock of it around his fingers gently. “Still alright,” you ask.

His voice is almost airy, now. “Mhm.”

‘This is nice.’ You trace little designs into the mat as your mind begins to wander, the boys starting to talk about something you struggle to pay attention to. This is not the closest you have been to him physically, but it is nice not to be crying this time around. "Domestic, almost, even if he doesn't think so.’

‘I should learn how to braid.’ Braiding is not something he has necessarily needed to know how to do in the past, but as he wraps the fibers around themselves, curious about the texture, he wishes that he knew; using your hair as a material of sorts would certainly be interesting, and he knows he has the dexterity for it. Admittedly, the conversation is less of a conversation and more of a speech on his brother’s part, but he tries to pay attention.

“So,” Mikey continues, digging into the box and pulling out a pencil sharpener, “he’s watching this guy all stealth-like, right? The guy’s out here, giving out his plans like they’re candy or whatever, and he’s just kinda recording it on one of those little tape recorders you used for that one thing a couple weeks ago-- you know the ones, and-- you don’t mind spoilers-- long story short, the guy gets caught, and when the crew got there, he was totally messed up.”

“Sounds like Batman,” you mumble sleepily-- ‘He really is warm.’

“Huh?”

“Your story.” You hoist yourself up, looking over your shoulder back at him. “Sounds like this Batman cartoon.”

“Batman?”

“Universe…” you stifle a yawn. “My universe has this thing called Batman, and there's a crossover thing in a different iteration of this universe. I guess you wouldn’t know about that, would you?”

“Different iteration?” Donatello looks down at your head in his lap, desperately in need of a cold shower.

You feel Michelangelo bend your leg forward. You nod in confirmation, trying to will yourself awake. “Didn’t I… did I?” You lay your head back down properly. “You guys are, like… mega-famous down-- back-- there.”

“I’m not sure if you did.”

“Well,” you giggle sleepily, “you are.” You try to count on your fingers. “You’ve got the original comic, the old cartoon, the two-thousand three animated show, the CGI movie, this one, the two live-action movies, the twenty-eighteen animated one-- gorgeous animation by the by that I have to show you later, Mikey-- that crossover movie with Batman, the live-action show, the other, older live-action movie, the IDW comic series, that weird one with the hats-- there’s a ton.”

“Dude, that is sick!” The resident artist grins. “I bet they were awesome.”

You consider telling him about the IDW comic. You quickly decide against it.

“How long have we-- as a property-- existed, exactly?”

“I dunno.” You shrug. “The first animated show was the eighties, I think.”

“...huh.”

You notice him fiddling with your hair, finally. You don’t mind.

“It’s been too long.”

You freeze, suddenly very awake and painfully aware of your current position.

One of the few good things about having your own apartment: you seem to have forgotten the fear of being walked in on.

“Please, relax.” You hear his smile. It does not help matters. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

The other two, astonishingly, do not seem nearly as anxious as you are.

You look up at him from your spot on his son’s lap. “You look as healthy as ever.” ‘I miss my grandpa. Is Grandma okay?’ You were unable to find your relatives on your father’s side through social media-- they could be dead for all you know.

“No thanks to my diet,” he chuckles. Yoshi walks out of your field of view. “Don’t mind me; how long have they been in the dojo?”

“Half an hour?” You hear the jostling of the box and the snap of an uncapped pen.

You hear him sigh. “Let’s just hope nobody’s died,” he mutters, walking into the dojo.

The three of you strain your ears to-- unsuccessfully-- hear what is going on. The door snaps open as the two brothers leave together in heated silence.

Mikey shakes what you can now identify as a paint pen. “Who won?”

“Nobody.” Leo’s voice, snippy. “Is she out?”

“She is not.” You turn your arm awkwardly to wave back at him.

“Then,” he shrugs, “nice to see you.”

“Likewise.”

“So,” Raph interjects, apparently very interested in the current situation, “can someone please explain what, exactly, is going on here?”

“I’m painting her white thing.”

“Of course. Donnie?”

The mortification would be apparent if you were looking at him.

“Nothin? Okay then.” You shut your eyes as he sits down on the other side of you. “You look terrible. Nice scar.”

“I am too close to very sensitive areas for you to give me a hard time, Raphael,” you warn.

“Whatever.”

“I’m heading out.” Leo nonchalantly bounds the steps, hopping over a divider.

“Tell her I say hi,” you call back. “Remember, consent is key, yellow roses lead to friendzoning, and to always use a condom.”

“... No comment.” He runs off.

“I have so many questions.”

“Ask me later.”

It takes him about twenty more minutes to finish covering the entirety of your cast in brightly colored characters and objects; if you have to describe it, you will say that the style is contemporary pop illustration with composition reminiscent of the renaissance period if the single art class you have taken is serving you right.

“This,” you smile, a little misty-eyed for some reason, “is absolutely gorgeous. Thanks, Mikey.”

He beams. “You’re totally welcome! If you ever get more white things, I’ll draw on those too, if you want.”

“Dude, for sure.” You nod in agreement, looking back at Donnie. “Isn’t it cool?”

Donatello has been quietly jabbed at for the past twenty minutes and is mostly desensitized to the quality of his brother’s art; frankly, it is not his area, and he cannot judge it one way or the other. Despite this, he gives his brother a thumbs up. “Very.”

“Don’t stroke his ego so much,” teases their older brother. “Donnie’ll get jealous.”

“Hate to steal her from you all,” he interrupts, “but I still have a physical to do, so if you would be so kind as to shut up, that would be great.”

‘Green with envy. Is that racist? No clue. Pretty colors.’ Donnie is talking to you. “Huh?”

“I asked if you were still on board.”

You nod. “Mind grabbing my walker?”

He shoots his snickering brother a glare. “Want me to just carry you to the lab?”

Panic. Immediate panic. “You sure you can carry me?”

He shrugs, smiling. “It’s only a few feet. Besides,” he points out, “aren’t you the one always going on about how strong we are by normal standards?”

You do not have a rational way to explain why the idea of being off of solid ground, held up by someone who can potentially drop you, is distressing. You also do not want to insult him in any shape, way, or form. “Promise you won’t drop me?” Your stomach turns.

“Swear it.”

“Can I paint your walker while you guys are doing that?”

“Of all the things you could've chosen--”

“Lay off.” He offers his arms. “You can trust me, I promise.”

You pause. The statement is entirely true, but your gut is screaming at you not to do that. The same gut told you that slamming your body into the person driving the car you were tied up in was a good idea.

You latch your arms around his neck, burying your eyes in the crook of his neck as to not see when and in what direction he is moving you. “Please,” you mumble, trying not to blatantly beg, “do not drop me.”

He does not exactly understand why you are clinging to him so tightly, but he is hardly one to complain. He slides an arm under your knees, picking you up.

Raphael is heckling you. You are more concerned with your body inaccurately telling you that you are going to die from this. Tears prick your eyes as you try to breathe.

He looks down at you, mind wandering as he walks away from his brothers. You look so sweet to him, shaking like a leaf in his arms. Cute. He had thought the same thing when you had started clinging to him during that movie forever ago, when you held his hand last night and pulled him back onto the bed with you. You are not normally openly vulnerable and, although he is hardly one to talk about vulnerability, it is always a sight to behold.

“Please don’t drop me.” He is not exactly sure if you are aware of your own, almost silent begging as you repeat the phrase over and over. ‘You trust me.’ His heart melts.

It takes no time to get you to his lab. He sets you down on a chair, but you do not seem to understand that as you still cling tightly to his neck.

He chuckles nervously. “I need my body to perform the physical, Y/N.”

You were not aware he had put you down. Your eyes snap open as you let your shaking, iron grip relax. “Sorry,” you mumble, face going a gorgeous shade of pink.

“No prob.” ‘Prob?’ His face changes color to match yours.

“So.” He claps his hands together just a bit too hard, slamming the door closed when he hears his brothers’ snickering. “Let’s get started.”

You sit on your couch, applying another coat of varnish to your cast as you listen to a cooking show because something something exposure therapy. Also, listening to people scream at one another about food textures is soothing.

Your results were not surprising to you; by the standards of humans in this universe, you are a walking talking coma patient. It was a bit funny, watching him freak out about a blood pressure that you knew-- through the help of google-- was completely normal. You are fine for the most part, if he was using the tools given correctly, and so, you are currently preoccupied with making sure the gorgeous painting on your fiberglass prison is going to stay gorgeous. The only thing he had insisted on, really, was that you not cook, after seeing your crudely applied bandages on your fingers.

You lean back into an actual couch, pulling out your phone and scrolling through pictures of gloves again. You are determined to find a good pair; the deep scars on your hands are not fading any time soon.

You can hear the window slide open. “If you’re planning on killing me--” you stop when you look up to see the look on Donnie’s face. “Something up?”

He says absolutely nothing, leaning his staff against the wall, closing the window in a daze and he stands next to the sofa. “Are you busy?”

“No.”

“Good.” His eyes glance at the space next to you. “Can I stay here for a bit?”

“As long as you like.”

He lays his head on your lap as he sits down, staring blankly at the television screen. He immediately understands why you like this-- your thighs are incredibly soft.

You immediately understand why he was awkward. You have no idea where to put your hands, but you eventually settle on his head as you turn the volume down. “What’s up?”

He takes a deep breath, licking his teeth as he sighs. “I,” he explains, “just realized what my reality is right now and I-- okay, I know this sounds stupid--”

“Not at all.”

“It does,” he insists. “I know it sounds stupid because I realized it did when I was working it out, but I just-- hear me out, okay?” His voice oozes exhaustion.

“I’m hearing you.” You listen to him, laying your phone face down on the coffee table. “Hit me.”

He takes another breath. “I just fought a giant… thing.” He rolls over, looking up at you. “Mikey called it Jacob or something, and it was about twenty feet tall and it looked like something out of a monster movie and it destroyed us in a fight.” You hear his voice rising, and you just nod along, letting him talk. “It wiped the floor with us. And the only reason it existed was that Leo, apparently, got a girlfriend named Karai-- you know her?”

“Hot alt chick with the wicked eyeshadow and eyeliner that could kill?” You nod. “Yeah, I’m familiar.”

“Her-- wait, should I…?” He trails off, shakes his head. “Another time.” He covers the side of his face with his hand, gesturing animatedly with his other. “Anyways, apparently he met this girl because she wanted to do a heist with him-- this girl, working for the Foot, of all people-- sixteen or whatever-- she goes and just touches a button to mix the DNAs of all the creatures an alien race could find on Earth, and then bails.” He realizes he is shouting, lowers his voice. “The alien creatures, in case you forgot, that look like brains and waddle around on tentacles which, by the way, makes no evolutionary sense whatsoever, decided to create a button that mixes the entirety of their samples of DNA together in a smorgasbord of wrong, okay?”

“Uhuh.” You nod along. You know what he means, even if the word he used was technically not correct.

“This thing,” he continues, officially ranting, “destroyed a building! It set the whole thing on fire, which was probably only Kraang, but also maybe had normal people in it, which is concerning.” He rubs his eyes aggressively. “So, to recap, an alienish creature named Jason or whatever got created by Leo’s crush and destroyed a building and that was just what happened today!” He raises his hands in the air, almost accidentally hitting you in the face. “I didn’t bat an eye at this!”

“Man, I feel you.”

“And I understand,” he continues, “the irony of telling you this, considering I am a giant, talking turtle created by the very same mutagen that created Justin or whatever its stupid name was, was taught ninjutsu by my ninja master father who is also a rat, and that you have already previously died--”

“All very bizarre things,” you agree.

“-- but this is just…” he sighs. “My life is getting so… weird? It was already weird, I know, but more so than I thought it reasonably should be.”

You wipe a bit of oil you notice on his cheek off with your thumb. “This world is a weird one,” you admit.

His voice is lower now as he follows your hand with his eyes. “I…” He takes breath. “I just wish we were more normal, you know? That our lives were more normal, that our existences made more sense, you know?”

You cup his face in your hand gently, remembering how your mother used to do the same for you. “I do.”

You feel him leaning into your touch. “I wish,” he mumbles, almost to himself, “that I was a normal, human teenager who went to school and didn’t know how to use a bo staff and had three, normal brothers who could try to get girlfriends without worrying about whether or not they wanted to kill them.”

You sigh, running your thumbs along the edge of his eye socket, feeling the soft skin shift under you. “You’re very well adjusted for a teenager trained in the art of assassination,” you joke softly.

He chuckles dryly, closing his eyes. “My mother is an empty canister in a locked cabinet in the kitchen.” He exhales slowly. “My stepmom was murdered by a man now actively trying to murder me and my entire family because of a decades long feud. Well adjusted is probably the highest compliment you could give me.”

“I’ve given you higher.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” You glance up at the television screen, then back at him. “You’re holding up better than I am, and you’ve been fearing for your life since you were real little.”

“Apples and oranges.” He rests his hand on yours.

“Look,” you shrug, “the way I see it, life is a series of events that all string together to the present.”

“Butterfly effect.”

“Exactly.” You smile down at him. “And if things didn’t happen exactly as they did, we never would’ve met, the world would be totally screwed, and we would be missing out on one of the greatest minds on the planet.”

He looks to see if you are being serious.

You are.

“You also wouldn’t have a broken leg and messed up hands,” he points out ruefully.

“Meeting you was worth it.”

He reaches up, running his fingers along the scar on your face. “I disagree.”

“It’s my body, and my physical detriment. It doesn’t matter if you’re stupid enough to think it wasn’t worth it.”

You feel his body relax

You two shut up for a bit, watching the show absentmindedly.

After a while, he pipes up. “It’s alright if you say no,” he starts tentatively, “but is it alright if I stay here again tonight?”

“Will your brothers mind?”

“They don’t care so long as I’m home before sunrise,” he shrugs. “I just like it here. Smells better.”

You smile brightly. “Sure,” you agree easily. “I sleep better with you here, anyways; I don’t worry about people sneaking in through the window.” You check the varnish. “I just have to wait for this to dry the rest of the way, first. You’re free to go to bed without me, though.”

In all honesty, you’re just happy not to be alone.

He nods, standing up and drawing the curtains. He sits down on the bed, untying the mask behind his head. ‘I could get used to this.’ He smiles slightly, slipping a hand into his utility belt and texting his brothers where he was to avoid his brother’s scolding in the morning. He slips that off too, dropping both onto the side of the bed and starting on the wraps on his feet and hands; he had learned his lesson when he had gotten up morning before, having gotten a few hours sleep at home, to large, noticeable indentations in his flesh where the foreign objects had been.

You glance over. “Do those go in the wash?”

He looks back. “Not usually, no.”

“Do you want me to wash them?”

‘You are too considerate.’ He shakes his head. “It’s alright.”

You shrug, putting your hands up. “Suit yourself.” You cross your hands across your stomach, staring absentmindedly back at the screen. “You can use the shower in the morning, but please do not use all of the hot water. Fridge is open if you need breakfast.”

“Nah,” he sighs, slipping the clothes into his utility belt. “I’ll eat at home.”

You nod in acknowledgement.

It occurs to him as he sets his knee and elbow pads with the rest of his things that, technically, he is stripping in front of you, and you are not batting an eye. As soon as that clocks, it also dawns on him that you are showing the most skin he has ever seen-- an A-shirt and gym shorts-- which had not even registered until he was laying in your bed. You are relaxed and in your warm apartment, watching a television program with him in your bed. You are awake and absolutely gorgeous and you feel safer with him of all people.

His heart swells as he slides under the blankets, the sound of the television white noise at this point.

You glance back at him, the phrase “Snug as a bug in a rug," coming to mind as you look over at him, struggling to keep his eyes open. “You gonna fall asleep?”

His face warms. He nods. "It's been a really long day," he admits.

“Then goodnight,” you smile. “Sweet dreams.”

He smiles sleepily. “Goodnight, Y/N,” he shuts his eyes.

You swallow.

You forgot how much you missed this.

Table of Contents

Chapter 10

Chapter 12

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