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almostempty · 2 months ago

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right kind of dream (joel miller x f!reader) part one

wc: 12.5k | other fics | rating: 18+ | read on ao3 | PART TWO HERE

summary: rebuilding your life, chasing cans, and hitchin’ a ride to the rodeo with team roper joel

to my pedrostories secret santa recipient @katiexpunk: this was a challenge for ya gurl to be srs (and it’s not a tentacle gangbang, i lied in ur asks babe i’m srry) i hope i hit the mark on a handful of the prompts though, i had high hopes that i could really challenge myself and deliver some breeding kink cowboy but i fear it’s more of a creampie kink—i hope that still hits, i have horse knowledge, but only rodeo adjacent experience so if any rodeo queens find glaring mistakes pls forgive me — but happy holidays bb, i really hope you enjoy-- EDIT: I MADE IT TOO GIRTHY (or something?? sorry!!) and had to split it into two parts, the second part will be up and linked as asap as possible, and i'll add the full text to ao3 so it'll be in one spot

tags: modern cowboy joel au/ team roper joel and tommy, no sarah, enemies to lovers, dbf lite, choose your own age gap, small town romance, city girl returns to the country, miscommunication, guilty yearnful joel, horsegirl!joel, smut, ridin’ that cowboy bareback as the good lord intended, no beta–mistakes are my fault for writing at 4am

thanks: to @syd-djarin, @auteurdelabre, @lovely-vamp-princess for support, eyes, ideas, etc.

The sun beats down on the gravel driveway as you pull your truck toward the old house. It looks almost the same as it did the summers you spent here as a kid when it was your grandparents–the peeling white paint on the porch railing, and the barn standing sturdy, but weathered further down the driveway. The fields stretched on as you rolled down the driveway, dotted with occasional wildflowers and critters dashing into the denser brush.

The air blows warm through the window, same as you remember, but the weight of the memories feels different now. The summers used to feel endless here, the fields seemed endless, as did the sky. It all used to feel so liberating. It’s not an endless summer now. Everything looks smaller and more weathered.

Except for the shiny white PVC fences on the other side of the driveway and the modern-looking house and barn built on the same soil you used to spend hours patrolling with your pony, Clover. She’d search for the best bits of grass as you laid across her back coming up with stories—some days you were an old-timey cowgirl traveling west or Clover was a wild horse you were training or you were on a quest to a magical kingdom together.

But now it’s a new home for whoever bought up the parceled land your dad sold to cover the updates on the house when he inherited it. Someone with enough money for a fancy barn and shiny truck. You pull to a stop and hop out of the cab, still scanning the neighbor's property, making your first impression.

Your dad emerges from the barn, wiping his hands on a faded rag. He gives you a smile and a nod. “About time you showed up,” he calls, his voice warm and teasing. “Thought maybe you had changed your mind.”

You shake your head softly, rolling your eyes. “Nope. Nothing worth staying in that city for.”

The gravel crunches under your boots as you round the bed to grab one of your boxes. All your belongings fit into a few boxes. At least, everything that mattered to you, everything that was still you. “Where do you want this?” You wonder how you’re going to manage living in the same house with your dad now that you’re an adult.

“Just set it inside,” he said, gesturing to the house. “We’ll get you sorted after we have something to eat.”

As you followed him toward the house, the outline of the neighbor's property loomed large. The barn caught your eye. It was close. A pair of horses stood in the near pasture, swishing their tails in the afternoon heat. The contrast was stark. Where your dad’s place still carried the scrapes and scuffs of decades–theirs looked new and polished. Smug even. Can a house be smug?

“The neighbors are closer than I thought.” You cross the porch, the nostalgic screen door squeaking as your dad ushers you inside.

“Don’t mind it. We look out for each other.” He points to the room you stayed in as a kid. “He damn near built the place by himself, and helped me with the new roof on this place.”

You shoot him a sharp look. “You said you were gonna hire roofers instead of climbing around up there at your age.” He shrugs you off. Always stubborn. Convinced he can do it better and cheaper. Despite the toll on his body.

“Paid him to help,” he argues, “wasn’t up there by myself. You don’t gotta worry about me like that.”

You set your box down at the end of the twin-size bed, the room falling quiet for a moment. Your dad stays planted in the doorway, but his brows pinch and lips purse briefly before he lets out a breath. You scan the room, gaze landing on the floorboards, waiting.

Instead of addressing the elephant in the room, he says, “You hungry?”

You grin at that, letting out a shaky breath. Your father’s daughter, neither of you likes to dig into your feelings. He taught you to show love through actions, like keeping you fed, taking on hard labor jobs without a complaint, or changing your windshield wipers before the rainy season starts and you’re cursing yours out.

“Yeah,” you say, brushing past the knot in your chest. “Starving.”

The rumble of a diesel engine jolts you awake the next morning, the deep growly sound reverberating through the walls like thunder on an otherwise quiet morning. You groaned, stretching and blinking blearily at the pale light filtering in through the old curtains. It was barely dawn yet, which explains the dull headache you’ve got.

Sleep had been restless. Tangled thoughts, ruminating on what you’d left behind. A failed engagement, the job you hated, the mix of excuses you had rehearsed for why you’d come back. You’d hoped coming here would ease the ache, but just when you were finally falling back asleep—the truck from hell pulled up to the house.

The engine is already cut off, but now you can hear voices on the porch. Your dad’s, low and steady, just a hum, and another unfamiliar drawl. Whoever it is, they’re carrying on like the rest of the world wasn’t still trying to wake up.

You drag yourself out of bed, wearing your soft sleep shorts and a thin shirt. The worn fabric clings to your body in places it shouldn’t, but you’re not thinking about being presentable, you aren’t really thinking at all yet. You drag your feet crossing to the kitchen to pour yourself coffee, for a brief moment you miss the coffee shop you used to stop at on the way to your old job, but the familiar roast your dad’s been loyal to has its charm. Like the free coffee at an AA meeting. It’s there and you need something to keep you going.

You push past the squeaky screen door, stepping out onto the porch. Your dad sits on the worn bench, coffee in hand. Next to him, leaning casually against the railing is a man you don’t recognize. His black Stetson gives him a classic cowboy silhouette, the morning sun catches on the sharp cut of his jaw and the scruff on his cheeks. His plaid shirt stretches across his broad shoulders, his jeans are worn and dusty in a way that speaks to more than just appearances.

He straightens when he sees you, pulling his hat off with one hand in a fluid, effortless motion. “Mornin’,” he says, voice low and rich. “You must be the daughter. Joel Miller.”

You take a sip of your coffee. “Morning,” you mutter, voice still thick from sleep. “You always roll up this early, or is today special?”

Your dad shoots a look at you, but Joel just chuckles softly.

“Guessin’ you’re not a morning person?”

Your eyes are narrow, defensive. “I’m just fine in the mornings,” you say in a clipped tone that doesn’t support your statement. “Just not when I’m woken up by a jet engine at the asscrack of dawn.” The chill in the brisk morning air causes you to shiver for a moment somehow making you look more irritated.

Joel glances at your dad with a faint smirk before tipping his hat to you. “Noted.”

Your dad laughs. “Should’ve heard her when she was ten,” he says leaning back. “Wouldn’t let anyone tell her what to do. Still doesn’t take shit from anyone I guess.”

“I’m right here,” you mutter, glaring at him.

“Just sayin’,” your dad replies, raising his mug in mock surrender. He turns back to Joel and they resume their conversation about fence posts or something equally riveting. You let your eyes roam as you wake up, drinking the rest of your coffee, tuning in and out of their conversation about their plans for the day.

The easy camaraderie between the two of them was clear. Like a friendship forged through shared labor and quiet mornings. They flow between their plans for work and that subtle gossiping that men do–convinced it isn’t really gossip–as they share updates about other folks in town and a few of the local businesses.

“What about you?” Joel asks, turning to you and pulling you out of the fog. “You’re back for a while then?”

It’s an innocent question, but it grates at you anyway. You stiffen. “Yeah, just taking some time,” you say vaguely.

Joel raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push for a real answer. You can feel the weight of his curiosity in the air between you. He looks to your dad, who doesn’t elaborate, letting something unspoken pass between them.

“Well,” Joel drawls, “good timing. Lot of work to do this time of year. If you’re up for it.”

The comment makes you pull a face. “I’m familiar with hard work,” you reply, your voice sharper than intended.

Joel’s lips quirk again, into something like a smirk this time. “I’m sure you are,” he says with the faintest edge of a challenge.

He takes a long swig from his stainless steel travel mug, trying to fix his eyes on the horizon. But damn, if it isn’t a challenge to see you standing there, looking every bit like you’d just rolled out of bed. In a shirt too damn thin for a morning like this, leaving too little to the imagination.

He knew he shouldn’t be noticing something like that, shouldn’t look at you like that–especially not while you’re standing next to your dad. Hell, he shouldn’t want to look at all, but his eyes betray him. Darting for just a moment to your soft curves and the evidence of the chill in the air–the impression of your stiff nipples protruding in the soft fabric.

Christ. He swallows hard, landing his eyes back on the scowl you wear on your face. You’re his friend's daughter. It just ain’t right. Sweet young thing like you. He battles the devil on his shoulder that reminds him you aren’t a kid. You’re a woman. A grown woman with your own life and clearly your share of grit, if the sharpness in your voice was anything to go by.

He shifts on his feet, forcing his attention back to your dad who was still chuckling softly at something. Joel didn’t catch the joke, head too full of thoughts about you–or how to not think about you. He could feel the warmth creeping up his neck, unsettling him in front of your dad.

You and him made loose plans for the day while Joel’s mind continued to wander. He shouldn’t have asked about why you were back. Your answer was vague, brushing him off like it was a privilege he hadn’t earned. For some reason that lodged it in his head further. He wanted to know more, even if he shouldn’t.

Your dad stood up, stretching and declaring that all of you have work to do. You take that as your cue to head back inside, leaving the screen door swinging behind you. Joel lets out a low breath, shaking his head as he turns back to your dad.

“She’s a spitfire,” Joel comments, keeping his tone neutral.

“She is,” your dad agrees, adjusting his hat. “Good to have her back.”

Joel huffs a small laugh, “S’pose we could use a strong woman around here. Keep us in line.”

“No doubt she will,” your dad says, clapping him on the shoulder. The whole exchange stuck with Joel though. Something under that edge of yours, something unpolished that has him curious in a way he isn’t used to. He shakes his head knowing it isn’t his place to go digging.

Your dad starts down the front steps. “Let’s get moving, then.” Joel moves mechanically, boots falling in line with your dad’s, but his mind is half on you—in that t-shirt, with that scowl on your face, and that faraway look that he’d like to unravel.

You were used to hard work but your muscles weren’t exactly dialed in for the functional conditioning. It was humbling as you found yourself aching and exhausted by the end of the night. However, the fatigue did make it easier to fall asleep once your head hit the pillow instead of spiraling on about your failures until the birds started chirping.

The next few days gave you a jump start into the rural routine. In bed early, up before the sun. Hot showers before dinner to wash away the layer of sweat and sweet-smelling dust from the pine shavings and hay. You found yourself looking forward to the strong coffee and the cool morning air before you started with your day.

Your dad, and Joel, learned quickly to let you wake up rather than ask questions as they caught up on their plans before heading out together or splitting up. You didn’t mind listening, but you could feel Joel’s eyes lingering on you now and then. It made your spine straighten, determined to hide the sore muscles in your shoulders from him. If he was waiting to hear a complaint from you it was never gonna come.

Despite getting more rest and having an endless list of labor to keep you moving–you often found yourself working solo and in silence during the day. A silence that your mind was more than happy to fill. You rehashed memories and dissected those little moments from your relationship with your ex-fiance that you wish you had seen more clearly at the time.

You’re deep in one of those memories, mindlessly stacking bales of hay onto the trailer for a delivery your dad is making tomorrow when Joel enters the other end of the barn. He leans against the door, arms crossed loosely over his chest, just watching you work. The warm scent of hay fills the air, grounding and everpresent in his life.

It wasn’t anything remarkable, just a common chore he’d do without thinking twice. But watching you was a whole different story. Your shirt was damp with sweat as you leaned into the work like you’d done it your whole life. You climb up a stack of bales and toss down some from the top of the next row, unaware of his presence.

He is mesmerized by you. The sharp look on your face like you were mulling over an argument, the fluid movements as you worked, and the determination radiating off of you as you worked at an urgent pace.

His gaze drifts lower as you climb down and bend to heave another bale onto the flatbed trailer. The muscles in his jaw tense as he lingers on the curve of your back as you bend to grab another. The way your legs shift as you work. The outline of your body in that shirt, the soft grunt you let out as you hoist another bale had him thinking indecent thoughts before he could stop himself.

Joel drags his hand over his face, fingers brushing his scruffy jaw. Heat burning within him that has nothing to do with the Texas sun transforms into irritation. He was considering copping out and disappearing before you even noticed him when he was outed by the damn barn cats.

The orange cat comes sprinting towards him, but it’s the black and white one meow-yelling at him down the aisle that catches your attention. A dull thud echoes through the barn as you drop another bale and watch as Joel squats down to give the cats the attention they demand. You watch, catching your breath. He’s gentle with them, murmuring something you can’t hear before he stands and strolls toward you.

“Afternoon,” he greets you in his deep baritone voice. Joel grabs the two-string bale of hay in front of you and drops it on the trailer with ease, grabbing another before you can interject.

“I can handle it.” You huff as you resume your task.

“Never said you couldn’t,” he replies smoothly, setting another down. “Thought it’d go faster with two sets of hands.”

“I wasn’t in a hurry.” You eye him warily for a moment before slipping into a coordinated dance like it was natural. Tossing the rest that needed to be loaded up into the aisle for him to grab. You work in silence, just the sounds of hay shifting and boots scuffing against the barn floor.

You break the silence first. “Dad says you and your brother hit the rodeo circuit in the summer. That true?”

Joel huffs a soft laugh. “True.”

“You compete?”

“Team roping,” he says, his voice warming slightly. “Me and Tommy hit most of the circuits within a day's drive from here. Keeps us outta trouble.”

You roll your eyes. “Hard to picture you in trouble, cowboy.”

Joel’s smirk returned, faint but there. “You’d be surprised, sweetheart.” He matches your playful tone.

His words linger as you work, stirring something you don’t quite know what to do with. Your mind drifts to the idea of rodeoing, the adrenaline of it, the discipline it demands. You forgot how much you missed it, how much you gave up chasing a life that didn’t pan out the way you hoped.

Joel shifts beside you, the faint scrape of his boots pulling you back to the present. You glance at him, catching the way his shirt clung slightly to his back, the easy strength in the way he moves.

For a moment, the quiet feels comfortable. Easy. The steady rhythm fills the space. But eventually, Joel speaks again.

“Your dad said you used to spend summers out here,” he says, in a low and easy tone.

“Yeah,” you say, a little out of breath from the exertion. “When I was a kid.”

Joel brushes some loose hay off of his shirt. “Guessin’ it’s different now.”

“Everything’s different now,” you mutter, more to yourself than to him.

His brow furrows slightly. “What brought you back?”

You hesitate, not looking him in the eye. You’re searching for an answer in the dust particles caught in a beam of sunlight. “Just needed time to…rebuild.” It’s still vague.

“You runnin’ from something?”

You tense at that, before covering it in sarcasm. “I’m not an outlaw,” you jest, earning you a small smile. He doesn’t press further, but you feel his eyes on you, steady, and patient like he’s waiting in case you offer more.

“It’s not as simple as people make it sound,” you say finally, the words slipping out before can stop them. “Starting over, that is.” You sit on a bale and pull your work gloves off, running the back of your hand over your forehead smearing sweat and dust in a most unsatisfying way.

“No, it ain’t,” he adds quietly.

Something in his tone makes your chest tighten, but you ignore the sensation. “What about you? How’d you end up here?”

“Had to start over myself, I reckon,” he muses, dusting off his hands before sitting down next to you. The words hang in the air, heavier than you expected. He doesn’t look at you, instead, he watches the cats play with a piece of baling twine. “This place made it easier—focusing on getting the house built and getting the business running. Your dad helped too.”

That catches you off guard. “My dad?”

Joel nods, finally meeting your eyes. “Just seemed to understand, I guess.”

You stare at him. You’re disarmed by the softness in his tone. Like there’s more beneath the surface if you ask for it.

Joel feels the air thicken. He takes in the way your sweat-damp shirt clings to you, and the heavy rise and fall of your chest. For a split second, an image flashes in his mind—your chest heaving for a very different reason, your skin flushed and shining. His throat tightens, and he looks away quickly, cursing himself for letting his thoughts slip.

The cats weave between your legs, easing the silence. But the air between you still feels charged. Your thighs are nearly touching. The proximity feels overwhelming for some reason and you're suddenly caught up in the details of his profile as he stares down at the floor. The lines at the corner of his eye, his nose, his lips.

He clears his throat and slaps a palm on his thigh. “Well,” he starts, standing up rather abruptly. “Just came by to check-in. See how you’re settling in.”

“What?” You frown. You miss the grimace that flashes on his face, your eyes drawn to the cats darting away from the two of you. “How I’m settling in?”

“Yeah, you know…” he gestures vaguely around the barn and your brows furrow and your eyes sharpen at him. Irritation flickers behind your eyes.

“I told you I’m not afraid of hard work,” you snap, jumping to your feet in front of him.

“That’s not what I meant,” he grumbles, like you’re misunderstanding him.

“Did my dad send you to ‘check in’ on me? Or did you want to see if I could keep up?”

“It ain’t like that.” He says lowly.

“Right.” You cut, crossing your arms. You’re over this rollercoaster of a conversation. Your eyes catch on the deep crease between his brows and the glint in his dark eyes. Something flares in your chest. You can’t tell if it’s indignation or something else entirely. “Then what is it?”

His jaw tightens, gaze locked with yours. Something unspoken flickers in his expression. But instead of answering, he straightens, stepping back. “Doesn’t matter,” he says curtly.

Your stomach twists at the coolness of his tone, the connection you just felt snapping like a wire.

“This was a mistake,” Joel mutters to himself.

“What was?” you asked, your voice deadly quiet.

Joel only shakes his head before striding toward the far door. His boots echo on the floor and the cats follow after him like shadows, their tails swishing as they dart out into the sun. Joel pauses in the doorway, glancing back with a look you don’t understand.

“Don’t work too hard now.” His voice carries easily before he stalks off.

Your thoughts have you spinning. “The fuck is his problem?” you wonder out loud, sharp in the warm air. In the space he left.

But deep down, you can feel the edge of something else. Something more than frustration, curling low and unwelcome in your chest. The weight of his gaze was still lingering, and try as you might, you can’t ignore the way his presence had pressed into every corner of the barn, or the faint scent of leather and bourbon that still hangs in the air.

Your routine locks into place, and the days begin to pass in a blur. Joel stops by for coffee and acts like the conversation you had in the barn never happened. The stoic, gruff cowboy thing works just fine with you.

Except for the moments you catch him staring at you like he’s trying to find an answer to something he never asked.

If you’re honest, though, despite your hostility, you seem to catch yourself studying him with the same frequency and intensity. You’re loath to admit you catch yourself hung up on his obnoxiously broad shoulders, his arms sculpted from the physically demanding work, and that gravelly morning voice he has before he finishes his coffee.

Aside from whatever Joel’s problem with you is, everything else seems to be falling into place. You catch up on your dad’s list of projects. You pick up a part-time job at the feed store in town, keeping yourself too busy to have idle time and too tired to dwell on the past or the future. You get to know folks in the town while you work at the register.

The town seems smaller than it was when you were a kid, but there’s also a charm in the simplicity that you find comfort in. The regulars keep you up to date on the town gossip, and you’re laughing loudly with your boss, Linda, one day over a joke she’d never admit to teaching you when your neighbor struts up to you with a list in hand for a bulk feed order.

You’re cordial to him and the man at his side who gives you a flirty wink that has you raising your eyebrows in disbelief for a moment before you put it together. “You must be Tommy?”

He grins brightly and offers his hand. “And you must be the neighbor?” You give him your name and a polite smile. Your eyes flick to Joel, taking in his neutral expression. His hands rest in his pockets, but his posture is loose, his broad shoulders back in a way that draws your eye before you can stop yourself.

As you enter the details of their order into the prehistoric computer, Linda chats both of the men up, asking them about their horses and when their next rodeo is.

You give Joel his total and take his payment, trying not to roll your eyes when he doesn’t make eye contact with you. You’re ready for the interaction with him to be over when Linda puts you on the spot.

“This one’s been talking about looking for a project horse of her own.” She nods her head toward you. “You boys have any leads for her?”

You can feel your face heating up as they both look at you. It’s not like it was a secret, but you weren’t planning on making Joel privy to your plans. You still haven’t forgotten the way he said this was a mistake after having one conversation with you. Or the way he is always looking at you. Like you don’t belong here or something.

“I’ll do you one better,” Tommy says. “We’ve got a couple of colts just getting started under saddle. They could use the miles, and they’re real sweet-tempered if you wanna come by during the week.”

“Thanks, Tommy.” You give him a genuine smile. “I’m actually going to take a look at one that’s got potential this weekend. Marilyn from the post office said her cousin’s got a six-year-old quarter horse she’d sell for a steal.”

Joel lets out a dismissive laugh under his breath. “You mean that Hancock gelding? The blue roan?”

“Yeah.” You confirm, slowly growing more confused by the reactions on all of their faces. “Why?”

Linda’s mouth is hanging open like you said the devil was gonna sell you his horse. Tommy gives you a modest smile like you’ve told him two plus two equals eight, but he’s too polite to correct you. Joel’s expression remains unreadable, but the crease between his brows deepens.

“Am I missing something?” you ask, hoping for an explanation. You do not like feeling like you’re being played for a fool.

“She’d sell that horse for a dime and a handshake,” Linda says. “Her cousin broke her jaw getting bucked off that horse. That’s why he’s been out to pasture ever since.”

You’re quiet for a beat before the familiar challenge and determination wrap around your heart. “Can’t hurt to look,” you say with a shrug.

“Hancocks are notoriously stubborn and broncy,” Joel adds, his tone low and edged with warning.

“They’re also incredibly smart, loyal, and full of try if you earn their trust and ask ‘em the right way,” you shoot back, meeting his eyes for just a moment too long. Why does it always feel like he thinks you’re out of your element? Does he think you’re incompetent? It only strengthens your desire to prove him wrong.

Joel’s mouth presses into a thin line, but his gaze doesn’t waver, and it stirs something uncomfortable low in your chest.

“So I’ve heard,” Tommy cuts the tension simmering between you and Joel. “Offer still stands if he doesn’t work out.”

“Thanks.” You pointedly direct your appreciation to Tommy, not looking back at Joel. “We’ll give you a call when the order’s in.”

They take that as their signal to move along. You think that would be the end of the drama for the day, but Linda’s got one more tidbit in store after the door closes behind the two men.

“God, those two are so hot it’s unbearable,” she sighs. It catches you off guard, and you blink at her. “Too bad they’re cowboy Casanovas.”

“What?” You give her a scrupulous look, shifting on your feet as she leans against the counter.

“Oh, yeah,” Linda says with a knowing smirk. “Every buckle bunny in a three-county radius knows those two. I hear they have a sign-up sheet at the trailer.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head, but the image comes unbidden—Joel, shirtless and panting, sweat glistening on his chest, his jeans slung low on his hips, every muscle taut as he leans over some woman. His gravelly drawl slides through your mind like warm honey as he murmurs something low and dirty, but you can’t make out the words. Your thought derails violently, and you scowl at yourself, heat rushing up your neck, but Linda’s still talking.

“I’d stand in line for either of ‘em if I were single,” she adds with a shrug.

The image morphs into smug Joel tipping his hat, a self-satisfied grin on his face as some random woman climbs out of his bed. Your throat tightens unexpectedly, and you shove the thought away, scowling at the knot of irritation it leaves behind.

The trailer rocks faintly as you haul it slowly down the driveway toward the barn. Blue shifts inside, and the loud thud of him pawing at the floor, anxious to get out of the small space, echoes loudly in the driveway as you ease to a stop. You cut the engine and hop out of the cab, you can hear your dad’s boots on the porch steps before he’s striding toward you. “You actually brought him home, huh?”

“You knew I would.” You grin. Your dad unlatches the trailer door and you slip past the divider to untie your new gelding and back him out of the trailer. Blue’s ears flick rapidly and he snorts like a dragon, wary of his unfamiliar surroundings, but you steady him with a calm voice and wait for him to drop his head before coaxing him backward.

His hooves hit the solid ground and he blows out a sharp breath, shaking his neck to de-stress. “He’s gonna be perfect,” you say, running a hand along his neck. “Just needs someone who knows what they’re doing.”

Your dad gives you a look that says he knows he couldn’t change your mind if he tried. His gaze flicks over Blue’s body, taking in his confirmation and conditioning, the scar on his back leg, the brand on his flank, and the stocky ranch horse build. “Linda said he’s got a bad reputation.”

“Linda says a lot of things,” you shoot back, leading Blue toward the barn. “He was misunderstood. Had a rough start, that’s all. That girl who got bucked off never shoulda had him to begin with—not after he’d been out to pasture for so long. She was scared, and he felt it.”

Your dad hums, the kind of sound that tells you he’s skeptical but not enough to argue. “Well, he’s in good hands now.”

“And we both know I like a challenge,” you say with a steady voice, edged with something sharper.

The sound of boots on gravel draws your attention and you glance back to see Joel strolling over from the direction of his property. His hat tipped low as his dark eyes flick between you and Blue.

“Afternoon,” he calls, steady and smooth.

Your dad turns and gives him a nod. “Joel.”

“That the Hancock gelding?”

“Yeah,” you reply shortly, adjusting Blue’s halter.

Joel steps closer, his expression unreadable as he studies the gelding. Blue swishes his tail before shifting his weight, resting one back leg like he’s already starting to relax. Joel walks a circle around Blue, before pausing next to your dad. “Well-built,” he comments. “Is he sound?”

You can barely hold back your eye-roll. “I had Barb meet me at the farm for a pre-purchase exam. Passed with flying colors.” You swallow down your irritation. Once again Joel thinks you’re a fool? That you’d go off and pick up a horse without a vet inspection?

Before you give Joel a piece of your mind you take a steadying breath, grounding yourself and whispering into Blue’s ear. “He might doubt both of us but he’ll be eating his fuckin’ words real quick once you and I get started.” With that, you turn away and lead Blue to the barn.

Joel watches the two of you walk off, resting his hand on his hip. “She got a death wish or somethin’?” he grumbles.

Your dad crosses his arms, both men still watching the barn door where the two of you disappeared. “She’s tougher than she looks. And she’s got more patience than the two of us combined—for animals that is. Lord knows she’ll let us have it just for looking at her sideways.”

Joel grunts, ignoring the heat crawling up his neck at the thought of you telling him off. “Hope you’re right.”

“It’ll be good for her to have her own project. Haven’t seen that light in her eyes since she got here. S’about time she started moving on.” Your dad’s words eat at Joel. He still wants to know what you’re trying to rebuild from, but he doesn’t ask. Letting the silence stretch before your dad continues.

“Plus, she’s got the right touch for it,” your dad drawls, tone laced with pride. “Always drawn to the ones that seem a little rough around the edges.”

Joel doesn’t respond right away. His eyes narrow on the horizon, but his gaze flicks back to where you walked off, the sway of your hips lingering longer than it should. The deeply twisted interpretation of your dad’s words messing with his mind.

In the barn, Blue seems less concerned about getting the lay of the land now that there’s food in front of him. He munches greedily, tearing hay out of the net tied in the stall. You’re buzzing with a mix of emotions, already imagining the next steps for the two of you.

Your thoughts fall back on Joel and your dad, their low voices carrying faintly in the warm air. You can picture Joel still standing there, one hand on his hip, eyes fixed on you, that infuriatingly unreadable look expression he always has.

Your chest tightens, heat rising in your cheeks as you lean against the stall door. You hate how Joel looks at you like that. Like he’s waiting for you to fuck up. To prove him right. Like he’s already decided you’re in over your head.

“He doesn’t know me,” you mutter under your breath, “doesn’t know you,” you tell Blue, “doesn’t know shit.”

Blue snorts softly, and you take that as his agreement, a smile tugging at your lips.

Days blur into a steady rhythm—early mornings with Blue, afternoons at the feed store, and long evenings under the arena lights. Each ride sharpens your connection with him, his turns growing tighter, his strides more confident. Progress comes in small, steady victories, each one lighting a spark of hope in your chest.

One afternoon, when the sun hangs low in the sky, painting the fields with warm hues of orange and gold. From his spot near the fence of his own property, Joel leans one arm against the top rail, his black felt Stetson shading his eyes. Across the way, you’re working with Blue in the makeshift round pen.

Joel can tell from the way you hold yourself that you’re tired. Your shoulders seem stiff and your jaw tense. But you don’t stop. Your voice carries in the breeze, warm and steady as you encourage Blue to make another pass.

The horse resists, throwing his head and stomping at the ground, but you don’t flinch. You give him the space to settle before asking again. Joel’s lips twitch, with a hint of a smile. You’ve got grit.

He can’t shake the feeling that you’re working off more than just the horse’s rough edges. You move with purpose and focus, but with a weight that doesn’t seem entirely about Blue.

From where Joel stands, he can’t make out every detail, but it doesn’t stop his eyes from lingering. You draw his attention with a pull that he can’t resist.

Against his better judgment. He traces the line of your spine as you step forward, the way your hips shift when you pivot. He knows better than to look, knows it’s wrong, but he can’t stop himself.

Blue gives in, his steps evening out as he settles into a steady rhythm circling you. Joel watches as you slow him to a halt. The tension in your posture releases and you reach out with ease and satisfaction to stroke Blue’s neck.

That invisible pull between you draws your eyes to where Joel is standing. Your face hardens when you catch him observing your training session. He gives you a nod before pushing off the rail and heading into the barn.

He catches glimpses of you working together in the mornings and evenings. He tries to stop himself from watching, but it’s useless. He catches himself inadvertently timing out his schedule to be able to keep an eye on you. Tells himself he wants to be sure someone’s keeping an eye on you in case something goes wrong. Or that he’s curious about your progress.

He can admit he admires your perseverance and the skill you have. He would never admit the way he finds himself waking up hard and aching thinking about you and what it’d feel like to have your hips rocking on his lap instead of a saddle, your tits bouncing in his face, and your sweet blissed out smile. And when trudges up the steps of your porch in the mornings to see if your dad needs anything from town—he prays neither of you can see the remnants of his sins in his eyes.

He can’t stop himself from trying to talk to you, though. One morning he asks straight up, “How’s the project horse coming along?” He tries to sound casual, averting his eyes as he sips his coffee.

Your smile flickers, equal parts excitement and hesitation flashing across your face. “Good,” you say after a beat, sitting on the wooden bench. “He learns quick, got good stamina and drive.”

Joel hums, tilting his head slightly. “He give you any trouble?”

Your jaw tenses, though you try to hide it. “Nothing I can’t handle,” you reply, tightly.

Joel nods. “Good,” he says simply, but he still looks at you, like there’s something else weighing on his mind.

Your dad clears his throat, breaking the tension. “She’s got him started on the pattern already.”

“You gonna run barrels?” Joel asks, curiosity sneaking into his eyes.

“That’s the plan.”

Joel hums, taking a long pause. “You wanna run him in a real arena? Bring him over to get some practice in with the right kind of footing and see what he’s really got for a motor?”

Your eyes narrow and your shoulders tighten, straining with disbelief. A real arena? It’s like nothing you do is ever good enough for him. “We’re getting along just fine as is, thanks.” The words are dripping with venom as you slip back into the house letting the screendoor slam shut behind you.

Joel’s brows furrow. “Didn’t mean no harm, by it,” he says to your dad. “My mistake,” he adds gruffly.

Your dad looks a bit miffed at the sharpness of your rejection but gives Joel a shrug back. “She’s always gotta do it her own way.”

The conversation with Joel sticks in your mind. You’re still chewing it over that evening as you run Blue through some drills, working on his lead changes and corners. When you finally bring him down to walk to cool down you hear the sound of hooves hitting the dirt across the field. Sharp and rhythmic. You walk Blue along the fence line. Pausing when you catch sight of Joel and Tommy in their outdoor arena.

Their horses move like extensions of their bodies. You loosen the reins, letting Blue’s head sway with every step as you stay transfixed on the two men. Tommy’s bay gelding moves with a quick, snappy stride. His hindquarters tucked under him as he spins on a dime at Tommy’s commend. You can feel the thrill and see Tommy’s grin from where you sit. It’s infectious. You roll your eyes as he tosses his rope catching the dummy steer in a single fluid motion.

You make another lap before you let yourself study Joel.

He’s riding his big red mare, her muscles rippling in the sun as she powers forward at a lope. Joel’s hand is steady on the reins, his posture relaxed but exact. Every movement he makes is calculated, and deliberate, yet to an untrained eye seems completely natural and fluid. Like he and his horse were born to do it. He barely shifts to ask the mare to pivot. Her body arcs beautifully, bending around his leg as they make a sharp turn toward the roping dummy.

You’ve seen good riders before, but there’s something different about the way works. He doesn’t just ride—he leads. Every muscle he moves is a quiet conversation between him and his horse. It’s seamless and controlled. And damn if it isn’t mesmerizing.

He leans forward slightly, and your mouth goes dry watching his arm flexing as he tosses the rope with precision. His red mare halts instantly, kicking up dirt around her hooves. Joel adjusts his hat with a smooth motion, you can see the focus on his face. Serious and competitive.

You swallow hard as you change directions, still walking on a loose rein very aware that Blue’s sweat is long dried by now. You feel warmth burning in your core that has nothing to do with your tired muscles. He looks good out there. Too good. The kind of good that makes you think about things you shouldn’t be thinking about. Your eyes drift, taking in the way his jeans hug his thighs, the line of his back as he shifts in the saddle. You imagine his hands, thick, precise fingers. Something coils hot and tight within you. You shake your head at yourself. You are not having those thoughts about Joel Miller who thinks you don’t know your ass from your elbow. You swing your leg over the back of the saddle dropping to your feet. Loosening your cinch and still trying to shake your thoughts out of your mind when you hear Tommy hollering at you.

“Watch and learn, neighbor!” Tommy calls, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You glance up, cheeks burning as Tommy tips his hat your way with his charismatic grin. Joel follows his gaze, dark eyes locking on you for a moment. Tommy gives you a demonstration of his prowess with the rope–as if you hadn’t been watching–but, Joel says nothing before turning his mare and heading in the opposite direction.

His cool look sends a shiver down your spine.

You walk back to the barn, and the sound of their horses fades behind you, but that image of Joel sears into your mind. His commanding and maddeningly attractive exhibition just stoked a fire you’re desperate to ignore.

You have the same stubborn streak as your father and you’d be damned if you’re gonna cave and ask Joel to use his facility. You find a summer barrel series in a nearby town with low entry fees.

You start hauling Blue out to get some experience. At first, his runs are clumsy, but as you get your miles in, his turns get tighter, his confidence grows, and your times get quicker. And you quickly feel like the two of you are ready to enter your first rodeo.

The air smells like dirt and livestock, as you unload your horse and tie him to the side of your trailer. There’s a hum from the generators, buzzing conversations, and the occasional whinny of a horse or thud as one paws at the dirt.

You had made a point not to ask if Joel and Tommy would be attending, but you catch his familiar shoulders tapering to his slim waist, with one boot on the lowest rung of the fence a few yards ahead when you head toward the warmup pen before your division gets called. He isn’t even facing your direction but you instinctively square your shoulders and raise your chin. You wonder if he’s just here to see if you’re going to fail. Or maybe he’s just watching to earn some other woman’s favor.

Something ugly simmers in your blood and your chest feels tight. You attribute it to irritation, refusing to acknowledge any alternate reasons. You’re going to prove him wrong.

You’re still staring at him when he turns to say something to the man standing next to him. You grit your teeth. Superstitious–as every cowboy is–his usual salt and pepper scruff is neatly trimmed, he’s got on a pair of deep blue Wranglers–nicer than you figure he owned, and a crisp long-sleeve pearl snap. Dressed to earn Lady Luck’s favor.

The devil on your shoulder whispers a thought in Linda’s teasing voice. He doesn’t need to do all that to get lucky. You take a deep breath and peel yourself away from the sight. You’re here to focus on Blue, not your asshole neighbor and his conquests.

Despite trying to let go of your issues with Joel, a scowl stays plastered on your face throughout your warmup. Blue picks up on your distraction and he’s a little hot, as you head him toward the alleyway when it’s time for your run. Against your will, your eyes search for Joel. A wash of heat floods your veins when you find him already watching you. He mouths good luck at you and you can only manage a curt smile before you’re pushing Blue to a lope, making one tight circle before you cross the start. The sound of his hooves pounding into the dirt matches the blood pounding in your ears. The burst of adrenaline is instant. The run isn’t perfect. He breaks his stride around the second barrel and you lose time nudging him back into rhythm, but you finish the pattern without knocking anything over. The announcer calls your time as you slow to a trot, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. It’s such a blur you don’t think to look for Joel. You don’t think about him at all until you’re untacking Blue at your trailer, brushing sweat marks from his coat when movement near another horse trailer catches your eye.

Joel stands close to a woman with long, shiny dark hair. She flashes a wide smile, leaning toward him and resting a hand lightly on his arm. The sight makes you grimace. You shove down the feeling. “None of our business,” you mutter to Blue as you keep brushing. But, your eyes flick back despite yourself. She tilts her head, laughing at something he says, or doesn’t say, you can’t tell. He stands stiffly, hands in his pockets. You can’t see his face from your angle.

The woman reaches to touch him again, and you feel a headache brewing in the back of your skull. Joel glances away from her, landing in your direction for the shortest moment, before his weight shifts and he takes a small step back. You scowl again, tossing your brush back into the tack room shelf with more force than necessary making Blue toss his head. Your heart thuds louder than it should and you run a hand over Blue’s cheek, murmuring softly to calm both him and yourself. When you glance back, the woman is still talking, but Joel’s looking at you again. His dark eyes are sharp under the brim of his hat. He nods, barely noticeable, before turning away from the woman entirely. You clench your jaw, forcing yourself to take another deep breath before loading Blue back into the trailer to head out. You weren’t sticking around to watch any of the other events. Especially not the team roping.

You smile when you pull onto the highway. You count the day as a success and feel ready to enter a bigger rodeo. The idea makes you glow. Finally feeling like you’re getting back to your true self. You feel like a new woman compared to the version of you that showed packed up her truck desperate to put miles between your ex-fiance and your corporate nightmare.

“It’s not that bad,” you argue, crossing your arms as your dad leans against the truck with a skeptical look. “The hell it’s not,” he replies, gesturing toward the trailer. “That’s floor is one step away from dropping your horse onto the damn highway.” You sigh, dragging a hand over your face. “I know,” you grumble lowly, disappointment sinking in your stomach. “I was just hoping you’d see something I didn’t.” “Sorry kid,” your dad says. “S’fine. I’ll figure something out. Or just eat the entry fees I paid.” “Or,” he says pointedly, “you could ask Joel.” You glare at him, fire burning in your chest. “I don’t need his charity.” “Ain’t charity,” he interrupts your sour attitude with a gruff tone. “He’s practically family. Don’t let your pride get in the way of your goals.” The words stick, heavy and uncomfortable. You’ve got half a mind to keep arguing. Joel might be your dad’s best friend, but he’s nothing like family to you. But before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re dragging yourself up the steps of Joel’s front porch.

You realize as your boot hits the last step that you’ve never been to his place. He always offers to have you and your dad over for a whiskey or for a fire out back, but you always brush him off. You see why your dad takes him up on it though.

It’s beautifully made with stunning wooden chairs and a bench for seating on the porch. You’d consider complimenting him on his craftsmanship if you weren’t already dreading what you’re about to say. Joel opens the door, his hat already in hand like he’d been expecting you. “Somethin’ wrong?” “Yeah,” you admit, trying not to hesitate. “Uh, trailer’s shot,” you point your thumb in the direction of your dad’s place. “Was wondering if you’d have room in your trailer to haul Blue with your horses.”

The corner of Joel’s mouth twitches. The gleam in his eye makes you want to say never mind. You brace for a smart-ass remark. “‘Course,” he replies. You blink, caught off guard by the simplicity of it. “Of course?”

He leans back into the house to grab something, then he’s handing you his keys. “Load your tack up tonight, and get your bags in the living quarters.” “No need,” you shake your head, leaving him holding the keys between you. “I’ve got the truck. And a tent.”

Joel leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms. You pointedly avoid how his sleeves strain around his biceps. “You’re ridin’ with us. Not riskin’ that truck dyin’ on the highway.” You glare, lips pressed into a thin line. Of course, you’ve got a trailer with a busted floor and a truck with more miles than you’d like to admit on it—while Joel has a shiny truck from this decade and a horse trailer with a tack room and living quarters. Probably has AC and everything.

You catch the glint in his eye, realizing you’re the one asking for a favor and you steel yourself, reminding yourself to bite your tongue.

“Fine,” you grit out, holding your hand out for the keys.

The truck hums beneath you, the steady vibration doing nothing to ease the thick tension in the cab. Tommy’s passed out in the back seat, his hat tipped low over his face, leaving you alone with Joel and the steady drone of the country ballad playing through the speakers.

“You always listen to this?” you ask, breaking the silence as you reach toward the radio.

Joel glances at you, one hand resting casually on the wheel. “Somethin’ wrong with it?”

“Didn’t know you were a ‘sad songs for sad cowboys’ kind of guy,” you mutter, flicking through stations before he can answer.

Joel doesn’t stop you, but when you pause on something irritatingly upbeat, his hand moves toward the knob just as yours does.

Your fingers brush his, and the contact jolts through you like a live wire.

You pull back instinctively, your breath catching as your heart slams against your ribs. Joel pauses for half a second before retreating, his knuckles tightening faintly on the wheel.

The silence that follows is suffocating.

Joel stares ahead, his jaw clenching as his thoughts spiral. He knew telling you to ride with him was playing with fire. But he can’t stay away from the heat. You glance out the window, pretending the spark you felt wasn’t real. It’s just Joel, always better than you, always an ass. The charged silence stretches on though, every shift of his hand on the wheel drawing your attention. Every shallow breath reminds you of his proximity.

“This’ll do,” you say tightly. Joel huffs softly, but says nothing, keeping his eyes pointed straight ahead. Neither of you speaks again for the rest of the drive, but the weight of the accidental touch remains, thick and suffocating. The rodeo grounds are already alive with motion by the time you’re parked and unloading the horses. The evening sun casts an amber glow over the circus of trucks, tents, and trailers. You help get the portable fence set up and the horses settled before the three of you head off to check in at the visitor's tent and get your meal tickets.

The smell of barbecue wafts through the air and you get in line to fill your plate. Folks chat eagerly. Tommy strikes up an easy conversation with a group of riders near the picnic tables.

You watch as some folks head back to their campsites, hesitating on whether you want to do the same or find a table. Joel passes you and sits at a nearby table and before you can debate any longer a voice interrupts your thoughts. “Long travel day?” the wiry cowboy drawls, tipping his hat and gesturing to the bench next to him. “Take a seat.”

You give him a quizzical look, but you’re hungry enough to take the opportunity to sit and eat.

“Name’s Cody.” He introduces himself while you eat. He tells you he’s a bull rider. Asks if you’re runnin’ barrels tomorrow. He’s chatty with a smooth and easy voice and a playful look on his youthful face. You answer his questions, politely, suddenly keenly aware of Joel’s gaze boring into the back of your head. It makes your spine prickle with something you can’t name. The heat of his stare burns into you, fierce and unwavering, making every laugh at Cody’s jokes feel like defiance. Cody continues on and you find it easy to listen to his stories, but you can’t help feeling compelled to glance over your shoulder betraying the distraction you’re trying to ignore. Cody points out some of the other riders he knows and invites you to come hang out at their campsite and have a drink. You’re still searching for the right words when you catch sight of Joel walking swiftly past your table. He mutters something to Tommy–who seems to be proving Linda’s rumors true with a woman wrapped around his arm and batting her lashes at him–and stalks off. Your stomach twists as you watch him go, irritation flaring hot and fast. “The fuck is his problem?” you mutter under your breath, turning back to your plate. Cody shrugs, clearly oblivious. “Who knows? Anyway—” But you’ve already tuned him out, your eyes following the path Joel struts down before he disappears.

You joined Cody and his friend for one drink, hoping it would ease your nerves. He had a kind group, a little rough around the edges, but tough as nails like you’d expect bull riders to be. They kept your mind distracted with their wild stories, but you decided to head back to the trailer before anyone got drunk and stupid. The walk back to the trailer feels longer than it should, every step weighed down by something stirring within you, something that has you on edge. You check on the horses before pulling the door open and climbing into the living quarters. The cool night air hasn’t soothed the heat that’s been simmering within you since dinner—or since that moment in the truck if you’re honest. You toe off your boots before looking up to see Joel, leaning against the wall, his jaw set tight, and his eyes sharp as they snap to yours.

“Where’s Tommy?” you ask, realizing it’s just the two of you in the small space. “Reckon he’ll be out til the sun's up,” Joel says in a quiet, low tone. “Alright,” you nod. Another point goes to Linda for that one, you figure. Joel’s jaw remains set in that infuriatingly unreadable way that seems to be his signature look. The dim light in the trailer casts sharp shadows across his face that darken his gaze. “You enjoy yourself? With your new friend?” he asks, his voice raw, edged with something you can’t place. You stop short, narrowing your eyes. “Excuse me?” He steps closer, reaching past you to hang his hat on the hook by the door. “Took your time gettin’ back.” He says, his eyes flick over you, dark and assessing.

You’re acutely aware of the scent of the campfire on your shirt and beer on your lips. It swirls with his leather and bourbon musk like they were designed to enhance each other. His words sink in, cutting and daring. “What’s your point?” “Did you fuck him?” The bluntness of it knocks the breath out of you. Your mouth falls open. Shock and fury battling for control as you glare at him. “What did you just say to me?” “You heard me, sweetheart,” Joel says, his voice calm but razor-sharp. “Just wondering if that cowboy got what he was after.” It takes everything in you not to slap him across the face. “What the fuck,” you hiss, stepping closer, your fists clenched at your sides, “makes you think you’ve got the right to ask me that, Joel?”

He shrugs his shoulders, but his expression remains cold. “Lookin’ out for you. Your dad’d kill me if I didn’t.” You laugh bitterly. “Bullshit.” His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t respond. Silence fanning the flames within you. “You aren’t my dad,” you snap, voice trembling with rage. “And you sure as hell don’t get to tell me who I can or can’t fuck.” Joel’s eyes narrow, his shoulders stiffening as he steps even closer. “That’s not what I—” “Save it,” you cut him off, word sharp as a whip. “I don’t know why you think I’m so weak or clueless all the time. Like I can’t handle myself. Like I’m some kid you’ve gotta babysit.”

Joel’s expression hardens, his dark eyes flash with something that looks like hurt beneath his anger. “That’s what you think I see?” his words come out like a dangerous growl. “That’s how you’ve acted toward me since day one,” you fire back, stepping toe-to-toe with him. “If you don’t respect me, Joel, just stay out of my business.” His chest rises and falls sharply, his breath warm against your skin as the air between you thickens. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about,” he grits, voice tight with frustration. “Explain it to me then,” you challenge. Shaking with the force of everything you’ve been holding back. “Or stay away from me if I’m such a thorn in your side.” He works his jaw, and for a moment you’re glued to the corded muscle in his neck and the exposed golden brown skin of his chest. He glares at you, making no move to back off. His voice drops sinfully low and quiet. “You really wanna know?” “Yeah,” you breathe, heart pounding like it’s trying to break through your ribcage. “I do.” His hand moves fast, gripping your wrist—not rough, but firm enough to make your breath catch. “You drive me fuckin’ crazy,” he accuses in a rough and uneven voice. You blink. “What?” “You heard me,” he rumbles, dark eyes locked on yours. “From the first day, you showed up here, lookin’ at me like you had somethin’ to prove.” Anger burns in your veins. “How does that make me your problem?” His grip tightens, his body presses closer. “You ain’t my problem,” he mutters. Guilt twists into his words, “Shouldn’t even be lookin’ at you like this. S’wrong.” He swallows thickly, only sharpening the edge in his voice. “But I can’t stop thinkin’ about you, and it’s pissin’ me off.” His confession hits you like a brick over the head. The trailer is silent, but the sound of the blood rushing in your ears, and your ragged exhale seems deafening.

“Then stop,” you challenge, voice trembling with defiance. “If it’s so wrong, just leave me alone.” Joel’s eyes darken, his other hand settles on your hip, fingers digging into you. “Can’t,” he says, voice so thick with frustration, it sounds like it hurts. “Don’t think I want to.”

Silence stretches and time feels thick and warped. Your ragged breaths fill the space. His eyes search for a reason to stop, but he finds none.

You don’t get a chance to reply before he drops your wrist to wrap a large hand around your jaw, pulling you into a feverish kiss. Nothing gentle about it. It’s raw and desperate, equal parts frustration and hunger. Your fingers curl into his shirt as if you could pull him any closer as your teeth scrape over his bottom lip, in a sharp, biting challenge that makes him groan low in his throat. He angles your face so he can kiss you deeper, harder, until your knees feel like they might give out. Your mind goes blank, flashing white with anger and need. All you can process is the hot slip of his tongue against yours and the sharp bristle of his facial hair against your tender lips. Your back hits the cool metal wall of the trailer before you realize your feet had even moved. Joel’s hips press into yours, pinning you against his body–solid and unrelenting. His lips trail down your jaw to your neck, the edge of his teeth scraping at your skin. The rasp of his stubble sends sparks to your core, and you dig your fingers into the hair on the back of his head. Pulling him toward you, needing him in a way that verges on painful. He lifts his mouth, breathing hotly against your damp neck. “This what you want?” he says, his tone matching the burning desperation coursing through you. “You want me to fuck it outta you? Til you can’t keep runnin’ your mouth at me?” “Shut up,” you snap, but the way your body arches into him betrays the hostility in your voice and the subtle stretch makes you keenly aware of how wet and needy you are already. He makes a low, guttural noise in his throat that makes your cunt throb. His hand slides down to grip your thigh, hitching it around his waist as he grinds into you. The hard ridge of his cock pressing into you makes you gasp. The sound you make sends heat ripping through him like wildfire. We can’t, he thinks, but the words die on his tongue. The thought of how wrong this is flashes in his mind, but it’s drowned out by the way you’re looking at him. The way your nails dig into his shoulders as you pull him closer, your breath hot and shaky against his cheek. He can’t think. He can’t stop. He doesn’t want to. Not when you’re so soft and warm and furious beneath him. He’s helpless. His hand slips under your shirt, rough fingers brushing over soft skin, leaving a searing trail that grounds you as your mind spins. He pushes your shirt up, baring you to the dim light of the trailer. Time slips back into the warped, syrupy dimension as you absorb the unbidden lust and awe in his eyes. You’re the one exposed, but you feel like you’re seeing something just as naked in his face. Time catches up and you pull your shirt the rest of the way over your head, committing to sin wordlessly. You shiver at the sudden contrast between the heat radiating off of his body and the cool air hitting your flesh. “Joel,” you gasp, your head tipping back as his mouth closes over your nipple like a wet furnace. His teeth graze the sensitive skin causing you to spew breathy curses over the top of his head. They only spur him on. He sucks hard enough that you tug him off you by his hair, but he only switches to your breast, delivering the same delicious punishment as his fingers roll and pinch at the wet, puffy, flesh he abandons.

It’s like he can predict your needs before your mind can, biting down harshly enough to pull you away from the angry, hissing thoughts and keep you desperate to stay lost in the physical sensations. He palms the full weight of your tits, gliding his thumbs over both, slick and shining with his saliva. He presses them together before releasing them. “Goddamn,” he murmurs, taken by the way they bounce more perfectly than he could’ve imagined. It’s wrong to have you topless and panting beneath him, but his name falls so sweetly from your lips that it doesn’t matter. The heavy-lidded look you have makes him feel confirmed. When you moan lowly as the pain melts into pleasure when he kneads your soft, slippery skin, his cock aches and weeps for you. He needs more. He needs everything. Needs to wreck you, to see you so fucked out the only thing you can say is his name.

It’s an exquisite brand of torture.

You hate how good this feels, how badly you want him to keep going. To show you every move he knows. To break you down with his hands and mouth. You should push him away, tell him to fuck off. But your body doesn’t want that. You don’t want that. You roll your hips against his, begging wordlessly for more, as you tug at his hair hard enough to pull a throaty groan from deep within him. The sound he makes nearly has you short-circuiting, but he doesn’t give you the respite to fall apart. His hands are everywhere, frenzied like he’s losing control. Hasn’t he already lost it? You wonder distantly. Slowly, you realize he’s littering dirty little threats and filthy promises into your warm flesh. You hate the way his words make you shiver, how much you crave every pledge he makes. “You’re gonna feel me for days, sweetheart,” he husks hotly, just behind your ear. It’s a commitment you unwittingly pray he keeps. Some part buried deep within you blooms at the idea of feeling every memory of his touch as you go about your day tomorrow. “Get to it then,” you snap, hands reaching for his belt with urgency. Joel doesn’t need any more encouragement. His hand slips between your legs, teasing you through the soaked fabric of your underwear, and the sound you make at the pressure—the breathless, needy, whimper—makes him forget how to breathe. All he knows is that he needs to hear it again while he fucks into your soft, warm cunt.

He wrenches your jeans open and works them down your thighs as you tear at his shirt buttons. He’s barely able to let you go long enough to pull his shirt off; watching you kick your pants off the rest of the way makes him nearly trip over himself.

The air between your naked chests is sticky and warm. He dips his hand beneath the hem of your underwear, fingertips gliding over the soft hair on your mound making his eyes roll back.

The edges of your vision blurs when he prods two big fingers between your slick lips, but you’re glued to the way his dark eyes are nearly black now. He looks every bit possessed by a beast, and fuck if you aren’t driven by the sick desire to make him snap.

“You like having me touch you like this, don’t you?” His voice drips with need underscored by the slick sounds coming from between your legs.

“No.” You rasp, as you grind your clit against his palm. He pumps two fingers inside of you, curling them just right to make you moan.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he drawls, thick like honey. You grip the muscle flexing in his arm to steady yourself. His concentration and competence makes your walls flutter around his fingers.

“You’re gonna come for me, right here.” He declares.

You shake your head. “I’m not—fuck—I won’t.”

“You will,” he interrupts. Dark and calm. His pace quickens, fingers focused on the spot inside you that makes you a mindless wreck. His thumb draws circles around your clit.

“Can feel how close you are.” Your hips rock and your muscles all pull taut. “If you’d quit fuckin’ fighting me.” He somehow crowds even closer to you. You feel like you’re about to snap when he pulls his hand away, leaving you feeling empty and ragged. “But you’re too fuckin’ stubborn, ain’t you?”

“Joel,” you whine, angry and devastated. “I hate you.”

You grip the back of his neck with one hand, and both of you watch as he finally takes himself out of his jeans.

The view makes you salivate.

Everything about Joel is rugged and masculine. The muscles carved into his arms and chest. The trail of dark hair leading down his stomach that thickens around his base. The deep flushed color of his thick cock. The ragged inhale he makes when he presses the blunt tip against the drenched fabric that clings to your swollen folds.

“Say it,” he growls, rubbing along your barely clothed seam.

“I hate you,” you whisper unconvincingly, digging your nails into the back of his neck and arching off of the wall.

“Tell me you want it.” You can’t tell if it’s a demand or a plea. This strain in his voice and the muscles tensing across his broad frame make you tremble.

“I don’t.” You lie. You snake one hand down your body, peeling your ruined panties to the side so he can slot his tip at your dripping entrance. You tilt forward, impatiently, stretching around him just enough to override your filter.

“Oh, fuck,” you start. Unable to stop the stream of whispered curses from rolling off your tongue.

“Yeah,” Joel rasps, inching deeper inside of your tight, warm walls. He feeds himself into you slowly, the overwhelming fullness as you adjust makes your thighs shake. He pulls out and you whine, unable to say a word before he’s moving, dipping you onto the thin trailer mattress and slipping your underwear down your legs.

“Gonna fuck you full,” he mutters. You spread your legs, making room for him to settle above you. He draws his cock back through your lips, coating himself in your arousal before driving into you with a powerful stroke.

Your lips part, sucking in air as he sets a pace. He fills you deeper than you’ve ever felt, relentlessly making room for himself as he saws in and out of you. It’s powerful and primal, but refined by his athleticism. Fluid rolling hips and his strong core make you see stars as he fucks into you.

“That’s right,” he rasps above you, and you realize he’s responding to you.

“So good,” you’re murmuring, “so full.”

“Taking it like you were made for it,” he says to himself. The intensity of your tight, warm pussy coaxing him deeper makes him spill his thoughts. Unfiltered.

He sets a pace, slow and deliberate at first, each stroke filling you completely before pulling back, leaving you desperate for more. The friction is maddening, plunging his length into your sensitive walls as he pins you beneath his hard body.

“You feel that?” His breath is hot against your neck. “Feel how deep I am? How I’m splittin’ you open?”

You nod frantically, your nails digging into his shoulders as you whimper his name.

Joel’s control falters at the sound of it, his hips snapping harder, faster, as his desperation takes over. “Thought about this,” he rasps, his voice hoarse. “Fuckin’ hell, I’ve thought about this too damn much. But you’re better than I ever imagined.”

His confession sends a jolt through you, but you’re too far gone to process it, your body tightening around him as pleasure builds again, sharper and hotter than before.

“Joel, please.”

“Fuck,” he chokes the word out, his pace faltering for a split second before he slams into you harder, deeper. “Say that again.”

“Please,” you whisper, your voice breaking as your release breaks through you, leaving you gasping and cursing.

Joel’s hips snap erratically, pinning you into the mattress with a tight grip, as he buries his cock as deep as he can inside of you.

“Gonna fill you up,” he mutters, his voice ragged. “Every drop, sweetheart.” Make you mine, he barely keeps the last thought in his head.

“Yes, yes, yes.” You chant as your body jolts with each collision with his.

“Fuck,” Joel mutters, cock driving deeper and swelling at your words. “That’s it. Take it all, sweetheart.”

Your release hits again, your body trembling violently. Or maybe it never stopped—he only drew it out of you in waves.

Joel curses low, his hips slamming into yours one last time before you feel him pulsing inside of you, hot and thick.

When he pulls back, his eyes linger on the mess between your thighs. “Look at that,” he mutters, his voice low and reverent. His wide hands slide up the back of your thighs, bending your knees to your chest so he can watch the mix of your releases glistening and dripping from you.

He takes one hand and drags it through the mess, pushing it back up inside of you. You squirm, sensitive to the touch, but fixated on whatever is burning behind his eyes.

You wait for him to say something characteristically Joel.

To dismiss you as naive, to rub it in that he broke you down. That he had you crying his name. That you shouldn’t have done that.

But it never comes.

You’re convinced he was trying to put you in your place. To give you another reminder that he thinks you’re useless and clueless. You’re too wrapped up in the thoughts to speak or move.

He doesn’t say anything at all which nearly makes it worse.

Instead, he pins you under a heavy arm, holding you against him until you both doze off. Succumbing to exhaustion.

-> PART TWO

dividers by @/saradika-graphics 🤠🤎

tagging the usual babes in case you want some cowboy!joel for christmas too:

@lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @adoreyouusugar

@swankyorange @itwasntimethatdidit40 @ivoryandflame @magneticecstasy

@indiegirlunited @syd-djarin @harriedandharassed @bbyanarchist

@94namkooksworld

#pedrostories #pedrostoriesgift24 #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal character fanfic

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portraitofalinkonfyre · 5 months ago

Note

hello :D i'm so in love with your writing i actually came up with a request for the first ever time *ever* since i joined like 5 years ago lmao

-reader gets into trouble with the chain for self endangering, reckless behavior, reprimanding/arguing ensues, maybe with reader not valuing themselves all that highly in comparison to the others? preferably with some rather rough lovin' as an escalation, just to get it through reader's thick skull that they're wanted and important

-i'd love to see Time, Warriors or Sky with this, but if you think someone else fits better that's perfectly reasonable too

-feel free to switch up any details you can't really work around (but no degradation please)

Absolutely!! I love this idea so much, so thank you for gracing me with it! I was also really inspired by this ask so it's going to be about 3-4 chapters long <3

The Bluest Eyes

Pairing: Warriors x Reader

Warning(s): A whole lot of smut and a few scenes of Reader suffering from PTSD. Reader is requested to be female.

Notes: Set in the same AU as Burning Love, where Reader is a retired war medic from Warriors' Hyrule. Also, a "night rail" is a type of nightgown :)

Main Masterlist | Fic Masterlist | Next Chapter

"Get down right now!" Hyrule's shout rang through the clearing, unusually annoyed for the typically patient traveler. Warriors lifted his head, blanching when he caught sight of you sitting atop the thick branches of one of the nearby trees, feet swinging down as you yelled back.

"No! Go heal Wind!"

"Wind has a scrape on his arm," the traveler stressed, gesturing to the snoozing hero as the others began to gather under the tree, expressions ranging from concerned to downright shocked. "You've been stabbed, (Y/n)."

"I'm fucking fine," you hissed back as blood dripped onto the ground from the wound in your shoulder, and Warriors was caught between terror at your condition to complete bafflement at how you managed to climb the tree in such a state. "Leave me alone!"

"Not until you let me heal you," Hyrule ground out with a stormy expression, hands twitching as if he intended to make you come down with sheer force of will alone.

"(Y/n)," Time tried in a soft tone, ever the voice of reason. "Denying yourself care will only hurt you further."

"Then I'll be hurting and Wind will be alive," you snarled, snapping your legs up when Wild took a running jump for them. More blood splattered from your shoulder, staining the sleeve of your tunic beyond repair, and Warriors finally noticed the unaltered fear in your expression.

You were afraid, and he had an idea why. Being a medic during the War of Eras, there was no doubt in Warriors' mind that you had seen terrible things–death, disease, perhaps even betrayal--and the way your eyes nervously shifted to study each of them only confirmed his theory. You were trying to sacrifice yourself for them, though he couldn't fathom why; they had more than enough health potions to go around, and Hyrule had hardly even used his magic when tending to Wind.

There was no reason for you to be acting this way, yet he knew exactly what you were. There was a faraway gleam in your eyes, like you were looking at something that didn't exist anymore.

Warrior's stomach churned as he couldn't help but wonder how long it had been since you felt truly safe.

"(Y/n), please..." Legend's voice was uncharacteristically soft, eyes wide with worry, an expression they all shared. "It was only a lizalfos attack, no one else got hurt."

"He did," you spat, pointing to Wind, and Warriors couldn't take it anymore.

"That's it, we're coming up."

You gasped as the captain took a running start, leaping up and just barely latching on to the branch below your feet. "Get down right now, you're going to hurt yourself!"

"We're just trying to help you," Sky took a less physical approach, moving to stand beneath the branch with a look of barely disguised regret.

"I'm fine," you repeated in a weak voice, and Warriors knew he had to act fast.

"You're bleeding out," he grunted as he heaved himself over the branch, ignoring the blood dripping down onto his scarf; it wasn't like he couldn't wash it later.

"It's just blood," you said, and he could have laughed at how disappointed you looked in yourself when the words sunk in.

"Just blood?" Warriors pulled himself onto the branch, settling next to you, hand reaching around your waist to stabilize your swaying form. Your hands valiantly tried to bat him away, but you were far too weak to do any real damage.

"Please," his heart ached at the beginning of tears forming in the corner of your eyes. "Get down."

"Not without you," he countered quietly.

"You're hurt," you whimpered, and it was as if all the air had been sucked from the space. Your gaze was worryingly unfocused as you turned your head to look at him, and Warriors could only imagine what you were seeing. "I can't heal you."

"I'm not hurt," he replied gently, not wanting to scare you even more than you already were. "It's all yours."

"Oh," you blinked slowly, as if you were struggling to comprehend his very words. "I'm sorry."

There was a knot in Warriors' throat. He tried to gulp it down, but it bounced back with more force than he expected. "Don't be sorry, just let Hyrule heal you."

Your gaze flicked slowly to the heroes waiting below, a protective glint in your slowly-focusing eyes. "...What about them?"

"They'll be okay," Warriors promised, and you nodded weakly, head lolling to the right to rest against his shoulder, pressing your wound to his chest with nary a hiss.

"Okay," you whispered in the most broken tone he had heard from you.

Warriors was sure he hadn't moved quicker in his life, carefully gathering your limp form in his arms and dropping back to solid ground. He remained silent as Hyrule dashed over, hands already glowing with green magic.

"Lay her down," the traveler said in a wavering voice, and Warriors did as instructed, placing you on the ground as if one wrong move would shatter you, and it was then that he truly noticed the ashy pallor your face had taken on, eyes squeezed shut as Hyrule worked his magic above you.

Slowly but surely, the exposed wound on your shoulder closed, your skin knitting together under the traveler's hands, leaving behind a wide rip in the blood-soaked sleeve of your tunic. The fitful expression on your face softened some, but he could still see the slight frown tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Warriors' hand found your uninjured shoulder, shaking it softly as Wild plopped down beside you, face twisted with worry. "How are you feeling?"

There was no response, and his heart could have damn near stopped when he registered the tell-tale softness your breathing had taken on. Nearly shoving Hyrule aside, he pressed two fingers to the side of your neck, fearing the worst.

"Is she dead?!" Four exclaimed in absolute, unadulterated horror, and the others began to murmur in fear. Warriors' pressed harder, motions unusually desperate as he fought to find a pulse. No, his mind whispered, a cacophony of dread as his fearful thoughts soared, cursing himself for not acting sooner. He shouldn't have waited, and now you were paying the price for his stupidity--

The very notion of time seemed to skid to a standstill when you wheezed suddenly, throat bobbing harshly against his prodding fingers.

"She's alive!" Hyrule exclaimed in palpable relief, and the tension in the air began to dissipate. Warriors took several breaths to calm his racing heartbeat, removing his hand from your neck as you coughed, turning your head to the side, groaning softly. "Fuck," you said, and the captain was torn between crying and laughing.

"Are you alright?" Sky was quick to help you into a sitting position. You winced, rubbing at your healed shoulder with your free hand.

"Yeah," you mumbled, looking around with mounting apprehension. "...Where's Wind?"

"Here!" called the sailor, having just woken up from his nap, and you gave him an exhausted half-grin.

"Good," you tried to stand, only to be pushed down by Hyrule.

"Not a chance, (Y/n)," the traveler chided, obviously still shaken from your initial refusal of help. "You're staying right there."

"I'm okay--"

"No," Hyrule said in a tone that brokered no argument. "You are– you are going to sit there and get better, or Hylia help me I will tie you down until you do."

You opened your mouth to respond, but Warriors noted how quickly you reconsidered the idea when Hyrule fixed you with a dark glare, crossing his arms over his chest in a manner that screamed 'try me and die'.

"...Fine," you relented, slumping backward, and the captain had a distinct urge to ruffle your hair. Your cheeks pinked and you all but hissed: "Stop that."

"Nope," said Warriors, laughing softly when you fixed him with one of your practiced stares, though even a fool could see that there was no heat whatsoever in your gaze. He rose to his feet, deftly dusting the tops of his pants. "Time, do you–"

"Um, guys?" Wind's voice interrupted, filled with apprehension. Warriors turned to face the sailor... only to blanch.

A portal had opened in the center of the clearing--pure white mixed with swirling hints of gold. The air around it crackled softly, charged with an explicably dangerous energy that had the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.

"Is that...?" You trailed off, letting the situation speak for itself.

"Time," Warriors drew his sword, stalking over to put himself between you and the portal. "Do we have another–"

"No," the oldest hero cut him off, tone unusually icy. "This isn't anything I recognize."

"We'll have to go through it, then," said Wild, already advancing forward. Warriors gazed back at Twilight and Legend, who both nodded, unsheathing their swords while the captain re-sheathed his, bending over to gather you in his arms.

"I can walk," you half snapped, though you made no real move to prove that point.

"No, you can't," Warriors responded, turning to face the portal as Time and Twilight entered it, disappearing in a flash of light. The others followed swiftly, and he could only hope they'd be able to survive what awaited them on the other side.

You recognized the castle gates as soon as you saw them.

You had long since wrapped your arms around Warriors' neck, holding on for dear life despite the fact that you knew he wouldn't drop you, deftly studying the bustling streets as the group stepped into Castle Town.

It was undoubtedly your Hyrule, and there was a certain comfort in being home again. You remained silent as the others chatted, half because you were nearly asleep and half because you couldn't fathom what to say to any of them at this point. Embarrassment coursed through you as you recalled their terrified expressions when you scaled the tree, too lost in your thoughts to realize what was going on.

You liked to think you kept decent control of your emotions, but now...

"Hey," you felt the words rumbling from Warriors' chest before you heard them. "What's on your mind?"

"Nothing," you said quickly. Perhaps too quickly, from the way he cocked an eyebrow down at you in response. "I'm fine."

"You keep saying that," the hero paused, then continued in a far quieter tone. "But I don't think I believe you anymore."

"Maybe because it's none of your business," you hissed... and immediately regretted it. "I'm sorry, I just–"

"I understand," said Warriors. The hand on your ribcage tightened as he hefted you tighter against him. "I really do."

You didn't doubt that, you really didn't, but a thick ball formed in your throat and you didn't trust yourself not to start bawling in the middle of the street. With a shaky huff, you tucked your head against the broad expanse of Warriors' chest, letting familiar darkness consume you.

You couldn't sleep.

The bedroom Queen Zelda had so graciously gifted you was too cold, yet your pillow felt hot enough to burn a hole through metal. You flipped onto your stomach, gripping the pillow as you buried your face into it. Every time you closed your eyes, memories of the War would pop into your mind's eye like flies, only dropping when you awoke, panting like you had run a lap around the castle itself.

"Fuck..." you whispered to the empty room. Warriors had passed you off to Twilight and Hyrule as soon as his boots crossed the foyer, declaring that he had a meeting with Zelda, only returning with a grim expression and ten keys. The Queen had heard reports of a black lizalfos roaming the land, but they were largely unreliable, leaving everyone with no choice but to stay in the castle for the night.

While you were grateful for the unexpected privacy, there was something to be said about sleeping in the open with what you now considered to be some of your closest friends. The room, decked out in purple tapestries, was terribly lonely, as four-poster beds typically weren't the chattiest of company.

The bed creaked as you shifted onto your back, staring up at the stone ceiling, hands fisted in the soft fabric of the creme night rail you wore. You tried not to think of how Wind had almost been slashed, or how close Time had gotten to being bisected by a moblin, but they kept popping up the harder you willed them away.

It was hopeless, you realized. Completely, utterly hopeless.

You swung your legs off the side of the bed, kicking your slippers on and shuffling to the nightstand, where a lone candle sat. With trembling hands, you lit it. A fierce orange glow illuminated the room, and you used it to guide you to the door, peering outside at the empty hallway.

You were no stranger to the castle, which is why you stepped out for a short walk, shoes scuffing gently on the polished floor.

Aimlessly, you wandered, uncaring of where you ended up. Dark shadows stretched and spun before you, quickly vanquished by the light of the candle. You walked beneath one of the many arches, entering a hallway you didn't recognize. A large portrait hung on the very back wall, a stunning caricature of Queen Zelda and... Warriors.

You approached the portrait, holding up your candle for a better view. Their faces were relaxed–not too relaxed, of course–and could be vaguely described as peaceful. Warriors himself looked younger, like the burden of being a hero had not yet hit, with a small grin that made the corners of your lips quirk up.

"...(Y/n)?"

You nearly dropped the candle as you spun around, heart nearly leaping from your chest.

"Wars?!"

And there he was, in all his blonde-haired, bleary-eyed glory, dressed in nothing but a pair of pants. You tried not to look at his chest, mostly because it was highly inappropriate and partially because you were supposed to be upset, and looking at that glorious abdomen made you feel anything but sad.

"You're not asleep," he observed in a matter-of-fact tone. "Why was I expecting this?"

You crossed your arms over your chest. "I could say the same about you."

"I know," his gaze flicked to the portrait, then back to you. "Do you want to talk?"

"Not really."

"Liar."

You bristled. "Excuse me?"

"You're unexcused," Warriors shot back, and you became distinctly aware of just how close a two-foot distance was when you were alone. "Tell me the truth."

"And that is?"

The captain fixed you with a half-hearted, largely exhausted glare. "Gee, (Y/n), maybe when you climbed a tree to avoid medical attention?"

"That's diff–"

"Or perhaps when you refused to let Hyrule heal you until we climbed the tree?"

"That's not–"

"Or should I mention that time you attempted to give Wild a healing potion after he stubbed his toe?"

"You–"

"I'm not done," Warriors cut you off, running a hand down his face. "Do you have any idea how worried we were? How worried I was?"

There was silence, because you didn't trust yourself to speak without breaking down.

"Well?" the captain prompted. "Don't you have anything to say for yourself?"

You stared at him. This was pointless; you didn't want to talk, you wanted...

A knot formed in your stomach. What did you want? It had been so long since you considered something so... well, you felt it was rather mundane, but that didn't excuse that you had no idea what you wanted.

You didn't realize you had begun to cry until Warriors' hand swiped gently at your face with a gentleness you didn't know he possessed. For you, at least.

"It's going to be alright," he said, and, before you knew it, you were bawling, thick sobs shaking your shoulders. Wars wordlessly pulled you to his chest, wrapping his arms around your trembling form.

"I can't do it," you whispered against his clavicle, arms encircling his bare back. "If I can't help him, how am I to help the rest of you?"

"You don't have to," the captain responded softly, hugging you a bit tighter. "You've helped enough-- no, more than enough."

"I know, b-but," you hated how your voice wavered noticeably when you spoke the last word. "I can't lose you."

"You won't."

"How can you promise that?" you hiccuped, pressing yourself closer, heavy tears blurring your vision. "Wars..."

"We're strong, (Y/n), we'll always be here," he responded slowly. Carefully. "Always."

“Promise me,” you whispered, unable to force any other words out. You needed to hear him say it, and the anticipation was tearing you from the inside out.

“I promise,” said Warriors. He sounded genuine, but, then again, he always did.

“Good,” you sniffed, feeling slightly sheepish for crying on him in the middle of the night. “I’m sorry, I just…”

You froze when Warriors put a finger over your lips, shushing you softly. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said, holding you like he would never let go. “Don’t apologize for things that aren’t your fault, okay?”

That… that was new. You had always liked Warriors; he was kind and reliable, not to mention an excellent strategist. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, but you willed them away, hoping the night was dark enough to conceal the burning flush on your cheeks.

“...Okay,” you agreed, distinctly aware of the flexing muscles lying just beneath your fingertips. Warriors was strong–they all were–and you felt as much anxiety over it as you did comfort. “Why… Why were you up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he responded quickly, and you couldn’t help but chuckle half-heartedly. “What is it?”

The words slipped from you like a knife through butter, like the softest silk and the quietest breeze. “We’re both hopeless.”

Warriors hummed and turned his sparkling cerulean gaze to you. “Maybe,” he whispered to the night. “Helplessness can be helped.”

“You think?” You were almost afraid to ask, but you could have done anything to hear his voice again.

“I think it’s time for bed.”

You laughed before you could stop yourself. Warriors released you when you pushed lightly on his chest, arms hanging loosely by his bare sides. “Isn’t that Sky’s line?”

“...I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“Deal.”

With slightly-lifted spirits, you peered outside, studying the star-spangled sky with mild interest. The moon was bright, bathing the hallway in a milky sheen that made it all the more eternal, and you wondered why you hadn’t taken the time to study it before. “It’s so–… I never noticed…”

“Beauty comes in many forms,” Warriors intoned softly with a glance in your direction. “There are people who go their whole lives without appreciating the little things.”

“And you are?”

The captain hesitated, shoulders slumping slightly, making you wonder if he would appreciate a hug. “I’m still working on it,” he admitted softly, and made the executive decision not to pry.

“So am I,” you shot an exhausted grin his way. “...How mad do you think Hyrule will be if I don’t sleep?”

Warriors ran a hand down his face, and only a fool would miss the very obvious, very large smile he was attempting to conceal. Until it shifted to a grin, then a smirk.

“If I have to sleep, you do too.”

“Actually–”

“Hush,” you blinked dumbly when his hand extended, palm up, toward you. A few seconds passed, and Warriors let out a small huff. “(Y/n)–”

“Present.”

“...Just take my hand.”

You did.

First chapter done! This is the second ask that has activated me like this, and I'm excitedly-terrified of the other wonderful ideas y'all might send me in the future!

#linked universe #linked universe x reader #the chain x reader #link x reader smut #loz fanfic #lu x reader #lu warriors #lu warriors x reader #lu fic #hurt/comfort #shameless smut

139 notes · View notes

gojocp · 1 year ago

Text

tangled

cw: tangled au! reader wears a dress and has VERY long hair, geto as flynn ryder, reader as rapunzel featuring: geto suguru 1 | 2 |

a/n: hello!! i'm so glad you guys liked the first part, i did make some very little changes to it after it was posted, but here's the second one lmk how it is!! <33

tags: @cofijelli (lmk if you want to be tagged in future parts)

you come out from hiding behind a mannequin and clutch the frying pan to your chest.

the strange man's eyes flutter open, and you knock him out with the pan again. you look over to your chameleon, pascal, and he gestures to check for sharp teeth, as your mother was telling you all outside people have them.

you use the handle and lift his upper lip, not seeing any teeth. feeling a bit relieved, and hit him once more with the pan for good measures.

'what is mother gonna say? oh god, what do i do?' you think to yourself. 'no, this is good. i can prove myself. i am strong enough to leave.'

you head back towards the unconscious man and, using all your strength, you haul his body into a nearby closet, and block it with a chair.

you notice a crown has fallen out of the satchel, and head toward the mirror to try it on. you put it around your wrist like a bracelet, receiving a look of disapproval from pascal, and then put it on your head, earning you another.

you open the satchel and find a 'wanted' poster of the criminal in your closet. 'suguru geto, wanted dead or alive.'

"(y/n)! let down your hair!" you hear.

"coming!"

you shove the crown and poster into a satchel, and then into a nearby pot.

after helping your mother into the tower, she says,

"i have the biggest surprise for you, dear!"

"i do too.." you chuckle nervously.

"ooh, i bet mine is bigger. i'm making hazelnut soup for dinner, your favourite! surprise!"

"well.. mother. i've been thinking about what you said earlier.."

"i hope you're not still talking about the stars," she says.

"floating lights," you correct, "and yes i'm leading up to it.."

"because i really thought we'd dropped this conversation."

"i know you think i'm not strong enough to handle myself out there.." you start.

"ohh, i know you're not strong enough to handle yourself out there." she cuts you off.

"but if you'd just-"

"(y/n)."

"just listen.."

"(y/n).." she growls, feeling more agitated.

"just look, mother-"

"enough, (y/n)! you are never leaving this tower! ever!" she shouts, eyes crazed and wild.

slowly, you take your hand off of the chair blocking the closet and look at the painting you made of the 'stars'. with tears welling up in your eyes, you say,

"i know what i want for my birthday now.."

"and what is that?" she questions, pinching her nose bridge.

"new paint, the kind made from the shells you once brought me.." you say.

"(y/n), that would be a three-day trip," she responds.

"i just thought it would be a better idea than.. the stars." you sigh.

"okay.. i'll go get them."

.・。.・゜✭・.

"are you sure you'll be alright." your mother asks, packing food into a basket for herself.

"i know i'm safe as long as i'm here," you respond, hugging her as she places a kiss on your head.

"alright, i'll see you in three days," she states, lowering herself using your hair.

.・。.・゜✭・.

fwip

suguru wakes up tied to a chair, hair all around him, and a chameleon sticking its tongue in his ear.

"what the hell?!" he shouts out, rubbing his ear with his shoulder, trying to remove the uncomfortable feeling.

"i'm not afraid of you.." you call out from the shadows, using your hair to swing yourself down from the ledge you were previously standing on.

"...huh?" he mumbles, shocked and confused by the amount of hair you have. "what..?"

"..how did you find me, suguru geto..?' you question, slowly raising your frying pan.

"uh- yeah, uhm. suguru's fine. anyway, it's really not that deep girlie-"

"(y/n)." you interrupt.

"yeah- i was running away from guards, saw a tower climbed it, and.." he pauses. "where's my satchel?" he asks frantically, throwing an accusing look your way.

"i've hidden it, somewhere you'll never find it." you say, crossing your arms with a proud look on your face.

"it's in that pot, isn't it," he states.

*CLANG*

fwip

"would you stop that!" he shouts, rubbing his ear with his shoulder again.

"now, i've hidden it somewhere you'll never find it." you start, "so what do you want with my hair, to cut it?"

"huh?

"sell it?"

"no?? look, the only thing i want is it to get out of your hair. literally!"

"you- wh-" you stammer, "you're telling the truth?"

"yes! i saw a tower, i climbed it. the end."

turning away, you hold pascal in your hand a communicate with him.

"i know, i need someone to take me."

"this could be my only chance." you explain to the chameleon.

coming to a conclusion, you begin, "okay suguru geto, let's make a deal."

"a deal?" he asks, giving you a judgmental look.

"yes. a deal. look here." you start, turning him to look at your painting of the lights.

"do you know what these are?' you question.

"the lantern thing they do for the lost princess?"

'i knew they weren't stars' you think.

"yes, tomorrow night, they'll float in the sky. you will take me to see them, return me home safely, and only then will you get your precious satchel. that is my proposal." you explain.

"yeah, uh, no. the city and my aren't really 'best friends' at the moment, so no. i'm not taking you anywhere." he says, trying to free himself from the hair prison.

"then you can say 'bye' to your satchel." you retort, tightening the hair on his wrists, halting further movement.

"bye then." he says, calling your bluff.

"something brought you here. call it what you will. fate, destiny-"

"a horse."

"so i have decided to trust you." you continue.

"a garbage decision at that."

"but trust me when i tell you this, you can tear this tower apart brick by brick. but without my help, you will never see your dear satchel again." you threaten, pulling the chair so he's at eye-level with you.

"i take you to see the lantern, bring you back, and you promise to let me go?" he inquires.

"i promise."

"??" he gives you a look that tells you he isn't quite convinced.

"and i never break my promises.. ever," you add.

"fine. we'll go." he sighs, giving in.

"really??" you gleam, letting go of the chair and dropping suguru on his face.

"ow."

#jjk #getou suguru x reader #getou x reader #suguru geto #geto x reader #geto suguru #jjk fluff #tangled #au #tangled au #jjk x reader #suguru geto x reader #suguru x reader #jjk suguru #gojocp #mother gothel #flynn rider #rapunzel #eugene fitzherbert

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casualaruanienjoyer · 7 months ago

Note

Prompt idea: AU where Niccolo introduces Sasha to his parents 🙂

Anon!!!! Aaa this is adorable😭 right right, there are many ways to go about this one, but I think I have an idea, so enjoy!! Sorry it's so long!! (Also my headcanon is that Niccolo's family is whatever the equivalent of Italian is in the world of AOT)

Meeting Niccolo's parents

Niccolo and Sasha have known each other for a while now. Since he got tasked with cooking for the military, they meet almost every day. Sasha was always there first, breakfast, lunch, dinner. It didn't matter! She'd arrive early to ask him about the menu for the day, and she'd usually manage to get extra food from him too. She was always the last one to leave.

Niccolo is, quite frankly, absolutely smitten with this unsophisticated woman. The more he cooked for her, the more he fell for her. She's just… hilarious! He'd never met anyone like her before, someone that enjoys his food so much. Someone that is so unapologetically gluttonous and wild. It amuses him.

Sasha, on the other hand, felt rather confused. Every time she saw Niccolo, she felt very happy, bashful even. But was it her love for his food making her feel like that, or was there something else? She decided to not think about it too much. She didn't usually take feelings like this very seriously.

But today she finds this to be almost impossible.

Today they are set to visit Marley, take a bit of time off to explore the world beyond the walls. And Niccolo somehow managed to convince Captain Levi to let him tag along. Niccolo owns him a lifetime supply of exotic tea, but that doesn't matter now.

What matters is that today he will visit his parents. This was an agreement between him and Captain Levi alone, since it has been a while since Niccolo last saw his parents. They are growing old, and he doesn't know when he'll get to see them again.

"Come, I'd like you to meet someone" Niccolo whispers and pulls Sasha into the crowd with him. It doesn't take long for them to lose the others, and Sasha is confused. "Don't worry, the Captain knows about this."

His grip on her hand is firm, and they walk so fast that she has to hold onto her hat to stop it from being taken away by the ocean breeze.

"Not long now" he turns to her, smiling, and Sasha's heart skips a beat. Her brows furrow and she looks down at the rhythmic movement of her feet. Why did she feel like this?

They soon arrive before a narrow building, squished between many others. Niccolo fixes his clothes and hair, then knocks on the door.

An older, taller man with a pretty impressive moustache opens the door slightly and his eyes widen when he sees Niccolo. "BIANCA, COME HERE! IT'S NICCOLO!!" The two basically yank Niccolo and Sasha inside. His mom checks him all over while his dad rushes out the room to set the dining table.

Sasha feels out of place. Why did Niccolo bring her here?

His parents ask numerous questions.

"Where have you been???"

"Have you eaten???"

"Are they treating you well in the navy???"

"Who is this pretty young lady???"

"I'm fine, I'm fine! I swear!" Niccolo scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. "Papa, Mamma, I want you to meet Sasha" and he gestures towards Sasha, taking her hand in his.

Sasha's heart skips another beat. What is happening?

"Oh my, what a pretty name!"

Sasha clears her throat. "Ah-um. Nice to meet you!" She says a bit too seriously, extending a determined hand towards the dad, shaking his vigorously. She then proceeds to do the same for his mom. She comes off a bit stiff, but they smile regardless.

"Wow, such strong arms! Are you also in the navy?" Bianca asks.

Niccolo looks at Sasha with a knowing gaze. "Yeah. Yes, we met in the navy. Of course" she smiles, hoping they buy their story. Sasha's never even been good with boats. They make her sea sick.

"Unfortunately, we can't stay long, our ship only pulled in here for a few hours. But I thought we could enjoy lunch together?"

"Yes yes of course bambino mio, we were just about to enjoy some home made pasta together."

The table is now set and everyone grabs a seat. Sasha can't help but admire their beautiful home. It feels very warm and cosy.

"Sasha, have you ever had Testaroli? I hope you'll like mine!" Bianca says as she bring out plates full of delicious looking food. Sasha has no idea what Testaroli was, but she couldn't care less. She was now INCREDIBLY hungry.

"Ah mamma, I'm sure Sasha will lo-" but the moment the plates touch the table Sasha immediately digs in. She takes a forkful of pasta and shoves it in her mouth. She looks incredibly focused, assessing every foreign flavour in her mouth. Her brows furrow and relax and her expression changes several times per second.

She lowers her cutlery, one hand reaching up to wipe some tears that hang at the corners of her eyes. "This… this is MAGNIFICENT! AMAZING! DELICIOUS! HOW HAVE I LIVED MY WHOLE LIFE WITHOUT KNOWING ABOUT TESTAROLI" she whines dramatically, leaning back in her chair and throwing her arms in the air.

Her parents are in complete shock, but Niccolo laughs and pats Sasha on the back. "There there, don't worry about it, I can make it for you any time you want!"

Sasha looks at him with big sparkly eyes and smiles widely.

Niccolo and his parents burst out laughing while Sasha continues to devour her pasta. They spend the rest of their lunch chatting about Niccolo's parents and what they have been up to.

Time finally comes for them to leave, and Niccolo hugs his parents very tightly. "I hope to see you again, mamma, papa. Please take care of yourselves!"

Bianca wipes some tears away while Stefano proceeds to slap Niccolo's back really hard, dad style.

"Next time see you at the wedding, no? HAHAHA" Niccolo's dad shouts as they leave through the door, and Sasha almost trips and falls down the modest set of stairs in front of the entrance.

"The WHAT-?"

💜This fic is now also on AO3

#niccolo #niccosasha #sasha braus #aot sasha #sasha aot #niccolo aot #aot #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot headcanons #aot scenarios #aot ship #captain levi #my fic #nicosasha #stella writes

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ribbondee · 2 years ago

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Three Little Words, a PMATGA Nether Princes Oneshot

Summary: Being a dad is tough. Especially when you have four kids, and said kids are each a miniature tornado all on their own.

This was written as a gift for @toad-in-a-trenchcoat for their Nether Princes AU.

—----------------

"DAD!"

"Daddy!"

"Da da!"

"*grunt*"

Betrayus woke up with a start. He was being tugged, jumped on, and shaken.

All four of the pups continued to do this like they did every morning, shouting all the while.

"I'm up I'm up-"

They stopped and began to hover in front of the throne.

"Daaaaad I'm hungry", whined Blinky.

"Dad, I had a bad dream", Inky cried.

"I frew up", said Pinky. As for Clyde, he just let out a large belch.

Betrayus just sat up (or did the best a ghost could in that regard). "Go to Buttler. He'll fry you all up some slugs."

With that, the quartet let out cries of glee and zoomed away.

The dad stretched, if he had bones they'd surely be cracking. Almost every day he asked himself why he continued to adopt more as they were discovered. One was alright. Two was a bit challenging. Three was pushing it. Four… oh no.

It wasn't all bad. He fondly recalled all the nights he had spent with the pups snuggled up against him, and how he had found himself growing attached.

But still. He was always so tired, reaching levels of exhaustion he had no idea was possible.

His original plan was to maybe catch a few more hours of sleep when…

"ARGH", came Buttler's distant voice. Oh. Not again.

Betrayus wasted no time in flying over to where the noise had come from. Yep. Clyde had bitten poor Buttler on the arm, apparently impatient.

"CLYDE", Betrayus shouted, "NO! DROP IT! HE'LL LEAVE A BAD TASTE IN YOUR MOUTH!"

Clyde did so, then Buttler sullenly went back to preparing the pups' breakfast.

"Daddy", three out of four pups squealed, floating up to him and hugging him. Clyde just stood by. This wasn't surprising; he still apparently wasn't used to typical displays of affection. In fact, Clyde did many things not considered typical.

Instead of talking, he communicated via grunts or single words. When he was angry, he would growl and bark. He truly was more like a wild animal than a baby.

This of course wasn't surprising in the slightest; when he was found, he was living with a pack of Netherworld creatures.

In fact, poor little Clyde was the one Betrayus was the most concerned about. Did Clyde even feel anything at all towards him? What would it be? Neutral? Love? …resentment?

Betrayus shuddered internally at that last option. He began to frown, much to the concern of the three hugging pups.

His eyes met Clyde's, who looked a bit confused. He found himself smiling and gesturing for Clyde to join in the hug.

Clyde looked unsure. Betrayus continued to gesture and coo towards Clyde.

Finally, Clyde began to slowly hover towards his dad. He looked at his siblings, apparently observing their behavior. He then flung himself forward, putting his little nubby arms around Betrayus as far as he could. He nuzzled his face into his dad's form, much to the shock/delight of Betrayus.

"I… lawf yoo."

Betrayus paused. "What?"

"I lawf yoo", Clyde squeaked again.

It was mispronounced, but it was obvious what he was saying. "I love you."

#pmatga #pacman and the ghostly adventures #nether princes au #fanfiction #ficlet

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musekicker · 2 years ago

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Set this in little drabble in Prohibition era au. Though honestly it could be set in modern easily (does not help that I honestly know very little about this era. Did I suggest this au? Yes I did. Do I know much about the prohibition era? noooo)

It was not quite normal business hours for the Eclipse speak easy. And there was no shows going on tonight. So Buster had the moment to check in on some of the group.

There was a sort of calm to the place in the in between hours like this. The only sounds really were coming from Ash and Nooshy were playing a card game in a corner. Buster noted that Eddie wasn't at the bar counter. Most likely checking on their alcohol stock again. The lack of Eddie made where Ella was much more noticeable.

Ella was standing on the bar stool behind the counter, rather then just sitting on it. Gunter was in front of her, focusing on something on the counter itself. Buster had to check in on that. Both Ella and Gunter could get up to various shenanigans for various reasons. And it was best to make sure that those shenanigans did not get too wild.

"What are you two up to?" Buster asked.

Ella looked up from the conversation to answer Buster.

"Gunter and I discovered a neat trick Gunter can do." Ella said.

"What kind of trick?" Buster asked, a little unsure considering what Ella's idea of neat could be.

Ella pointed to the counter. On the counter was a set of three wooden shells on the counter. Just like one would see from those scam artists on the streets and parks. Instead of a ball though, Ella was using a shot glass as a stand in.

"Now watch this!" Ella said.

She placed the shot glass down and, covering it with the middle shell. Then she was moving the shells at a rapid pace and changing up what shells she was moving and where. She did this for a minute before she stopped and gesture to Gunter to choose.

"That one." Gunter said, pointing to the shell on the far left.

Ella picked up the shell, shouting "Ta dah!" before the shell was even completely up. Like the game itself, a bit of a gamble where the price if Gunter had been wrong was Ella looking a little silly. That was not what happened though as the glass was under the shell.

The bit of action that was brewing here brought Ash and Johnny over towards the counter. As well as Eddie who had just returned.

"That's really great but-" Buster said.

"No, no. I get it. One time isn't anything unusual. But just wait." Ella said.

Yes, It could had been dumb luck that Gunter had picked out the right shell the first time. Or maybe Gunter had been able to follow it. But the next time he picked out the right shell again. And then again. It was the same the next two times Ella moved the shells. And it was also the same when everyone else in the speak easy moved the shells themselves.

Finally, Ella moved the shells one last time. This time though, things were different. Instead of picking the shell out immediately, Gunter stared at the shells.

Five minutes passed and Gunter was still looking carefully at the shells. He hadn't moved for some time and hadn't said a thing.

"Oh, maybe Gunter's trick could only work for some long." Ash said.

Ella didn't say a thing. Didn't even move. She was still giving Gunter time. Finally Gunter spoke up.

"But.. the glass isn't under any of the shells." Gunter said. "It's in your pocket."

Ella reached into her pants pocket and pulled out the shot glass for all to see.

"So it is!" Ella said. "Great work."

The others clapped.

"That's pretty impressive." Buster agreed.

Ella grinned and turned to Gunter, a plan clearly in mind.

"Let's go give that one scam artist that likes to hang out in the park a real challenge." Ella said.

"Yeah!" Gunter said in agreement.

The two, clearly excited about the idea of making the scam artists day harder were already running off.

"Have fun." Buster said towards the two before they went out of the room.

#sing roaring 20's au #sing oc #sing 2021 #sing 2016

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amessageonthewind · 1 year ago

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September Selfship Prompts Challenge

19. Any of your AUs, or an idea you have for one!

Pairing: Adaman/Rachel during Legends: Arceus (spoiler alert for really far along in the timeline)

Author's Note: This is an AU where instead of Rachel being picked up by the Galaxy Team, she's picked up by the Diamond Clan instead and becomes their time travel blorbo like Ingo is to the Pearl Clan.

There were no shortage of concerns these days. Something unexpected happened a little while ago and the Diamond Clan’s leader was still trying to wrap his head around it to try and figure out a solution. A strange affliction has taken a hold of Lord Electrode, up in the Coronet Highlands, and no one can figure out how to quell it.

Well, more accurately his warden refuses to do anything about it despite the danger and risk it poses, which is only serving to slow down any progress on finding a solution for Lord Electrode’s frenzy. And if they don’t figure something out soon, it’ll be more than Pokémon getting hurt by the blasts of electricity.

People could potentially get hurt. First risk was the Diamond Clan, then potentially the Pearl Clan, and if one of the Diamond Clan’s nobles injured or otherwise harmed anyone from the Pearl Clan, it could spell disaster for both clans and the last thing Adaman wanted was for the clans to be at war, again.

Not again…they’d already lost so much.

Alternatively, he could seek out help from the Galaxy Expedition Team to the east in Jubilife Village. Their ways were strange, keeping Pokémon in Pokéballs, but they were competent in the field. Maybe it would be worth looking into…they were running out of time.

And the longer Adaman waited and thought, the more time they were losing. He didn’t want to disappoint almighty Sinnoh.

Suddenly, a woman with bright red hair burst through the tarp of his tent. “Adaman! Come quick!” Arezu exclaimed, gesturing outside. “Something crashed into the mirelands! It came from the rift!”

“The rift?!” Adaman exclaimed, already following Arezu out of the tent. “Where did you see it land?”

“In the Scarlet Bog!”

In one moment, Cedric was inches away from being separated from Rachel. And in another, the both of them had landed in a strange and foreign world unknown to them both. None of his memories were present, but the only thing he could remember was the human he had arrived with. She was his trainer, but she was his closest and most trusted companion. She was his best friend. He would do anything for her.

Including following her through spacetime.

He had woken up before she did, but Rachel was still unconscious and the wild Pokémon were not like the ones from their time. They eyed the body with suspicion and intrigue, but there was something dangerous and predatory in the way they looked at them. The Croagunks, Hippopotases, and Stunkies all circled the pair, waiting for what they’d do next.

Waiting for their next moment to strike.

They couldn’t stay here. If they wanted to survive and find a way to get help to figure out what was going on, they needed to get out of here. None of the landscape was familiar and they had no idea how far away they were from the nearest civilization. Simply put, Cedric had no idea where or when they were.

He needed to get her up. “Rachel!” He urged, putting his crimson paws on her face and trying to get her back to consciousness. The wild Pokémon began to edge closer, closing in on them. The Zorua’s ears twitched nervously. Rachel didn’t have her bag on her, so she had nothing to defend herself with. No Pokémon, no weapons, nothing.

Nothing except for the gauntlet on her left hand.

He tried again, shaking her more frantically. “Get up!” He urged, trying desperately to rouse his trainer. She moved slightly, quietly groaning in pain and confusion, but she didn’t get up. At least she was alive… “Come on! Get up, Rachel! I’m not losing you!”

Closer and closer their adversaries drew, chittering amongst themselves excitedly. Cedric growled a warning growl at them, but it didn’t make them back up. In-fact, it only further spurred their growing curiosity and potential malice as they encroached.

It only just now occurred to him that they could potentially see Rachel and even himself as a free meal.

No! I am not letting Rachel die being Pokémon chow! “Rachel!” He shouted sharply, biting and tugging on her ear to rouse her. Finally, the woman opened her eyes, feeling the sharp pain in her ear and seeing Cedric right in front of her face. Her eyesight had to adjust, fading in and out of focus as she struggled to recall any recent or past memories at all. “Come on! Get up! We gotta move now!”

Coming to, Rachel staggered onto her elbows, looking around. Finally in a state of proper consciousness, she took in her surroundings and realized that nothing was familiar to her. The landscape was wetlands and warm-coloured trees as far as the eye could see. It was sunset, and surrounding them were wild Pokémon, drawing closer and closer.

Hearing their excited chitters didn’t give Rachel any comfort, for once. They were all excited about having a free meal, since they couldn’t eat those Diamond Clan humans. Who are the Diamond Clan? Staggering to her feet, she looked around. The only familiar thing was Cedric, thank the Alpha. Where…or when am I?

Picking up Cedric, Rachel looked around at the Pokémon approaching. They weren’t going to attack, at least not yet. Maybe she could persuade them that she meant them no harm. It was the best idea she had. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you…I don’t know where I am.” She said to them, taking them by surprise. “But I mean you no harm. I don’t want any trouble. Can you tell me where I might find anyone who can help me?”

They didn’t answer her questions, instead chittering amongst themselves about a human who could speak the Pokémon tongue falling from the sky. From beyond the rift. Is that where I came from?

Looking up, Rachel saw a great mountain in the distance that formed into a perfect caldera at its peak. It towered above all else, and surprisingly, that was quite familiar. The name was there, in the back of her mind, dancing on the tip of her tongue. But she couldn’t reach it, forced to swallow the lingering half-formed name down.

Above it swirled a black spiraling voice, pale light spilling from a crack in reality itself like glass. It crackled ominously, like a storm that was in the beginning stages of forming, but was not quite thundering.

Did she fall…from that? If she did, it was a miracle she survived the fall. Though, judging by the state of her clothes and the mud on her face, the bog must have broken her fall.

But before she could ask any more questions of the wild Pokémon, a bellowing roar shook the ground and reverberated painfully through the air. All the wild Pokémon scattered and the bellow made the lingering headache from the fall that much more painful and Rachel staggered on her feet, trying to stay on her feet.

Heavy footsteps slowly thundered across the bog until a pair of blazing crimson eyes broke through the wet mist, evaporating off of the mud and the fetid wetlands. They were attached to a lumbering silhouette larger than anything Rachel had ever seen.

She recognized the shape as it grew closer. It was a Hippowdon, but its eyes were blazing and its size was far beyond anything she could even imagine. It was no wonder all the other wild Pokémon fled at the sight of it.

Cedric could feel the waves of rage billowing off of it and knew there was no reasoning with it. Whether they stayed still or not, that Hippowdon had every intention of destroying the both of them. If they stayed still, they would be killed.

Wherever or whenever they were, these Pokémon weren’t that used to people. They didn’t coexist the way they did in the world they came from. “Rachel, run.”

Everything she knew about wild Pokémon told her that that was a bad idea. “Won’t that just make her chase-?”

Her answer came in the form of another loud bellow, a roar compared to the first that nearly made Rachel go deaf as she staggered backwards, falling back into the bog. The reality made itself clear to her and immediately, her fight or flight instincts kicked in and she scrambled to her hands and feet to run as fast as she could. “RUN!”

Running away, Rachel could hear the massive Hippowdon bellow after her, trouncing on her heels as she maneuvered in a manner she hoped would put distance between them. But with a creature that massive, she had no hope of outrunning it.

There was no outrunning it. She just had to outsmart it, somehow.

It didn’t take long for Adaman to determine where this strange object from the rift landed. The commotion told him immediately that trouble was afoot. The Diamond Clan leader would recognize the sound of an angry alpha Hippowdon from miles away.

An unfamiliar voice shouting in the distance told him that someone had enraged it. If he wanted to get to the bottom of this, he needed to catch up to them. “Keep watch, Arezu. If I need you, I’ll call out to you.” Adaman ordered, his Leafeon already dashing off towards the bog with his human on his heels.

The red-haired woman did as her leader asked, watching him with quiet anxiety. She’d seen him get injured enough times to know that survival was not guaranteed, the golden embroidery on his haori a reminder of the first time he’d gotten hurt as leader when he protected Sabi from a raging Ursaring.

She prayed to almighty Sinnoh that he would come back in one piece.

Fortunately, Rachel had found a rhythm that worked for her to avoid the massive angry Hippowdon’s attacks and charges. Dashing between rocks and boulders and trees did well to slow her down and even cause her confusion as she chased her prey.

But unfortunately as clever as Rachel was and as quickly as she was able to think on the spot, no amount of cunning or skill could beat out sheer bad luck.

Running from the previous boulder to the next in the bog, Rachel tripped over a hidden boulder and took a tumble, caking herself in mud and twisting her ankle painfully. Cedric had fallen out of her arms a good ways away from her. Scrambling to get back up, the moment the woman put any weight or strain on her ankle, she buckled in pain, throbbing and stinging as it shot up her leg.

“Rachel!” Cedric cried, rushing over to be by his trainer’s side.

The moment her eyes made contact with his, she knew she wouldn’t be able to make it out alive. She was going to die here, at the mercy of an angry Hippowdon in a world unfamiliar to her, alone and afraid. There was no saving her.

But there was a chance to save Cedric. There was a chance for him to survive and live.

Finally, Adaman reached the end of Bolderoll Slope and saw what had happened. It was a woman in strange clothes that was on the run from the alpha Hippowdon, but she’d tripped and fallen. If she was injured, there was no way she’d survive an attack directly. She had a very loud voice he could hear even from up here.

But he was shocked to hear what he was hearing.

Reaching to push Cedric away, Rachel shook her head furiously. “Go! Run, Cedric! As fast as you can!”

Staring at his trainer in disbelief, he stubbornly stayed by her side. “I’m not leaving you! That’s not happening!” The Zorua argued.

“I can’t walk!” Rachel insisted, trying to push him away, again. “I’m not gonna make it, but you still have a chance! Save yourself!”

“No!” Cedric snapped, growling at his trainer for having the audacity to try to send him away, after everything they’d been through. Even if he couldn’t remember it right now, he felt it in his chest as it stung his eyes that after everything they’d gone through, he wouldn’t be anywhere else than by his trainer’s side. “Where you go, I go! Even if that means to the grave!��

Her heart was being torn in two. She knew there was no convincing Cedric to leave her, but she couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.

Adaman was shocked to see that. So they really can use human speech. Her Pokémon was a Zorua, but not of the variety he was familiar with. This Zorua didn’t have the angry spitefulness that Hisui’s native Zorua did, but it was clear to see how deeply they cared for each other. It wasn’t unlike the bonds between the people of his clan and their Pokémon.

His Leafeon and he were on the same page, prepared to help them. They weren’t going to die, today.

The alpha Hippowdon, knowing that her prey was weak and wouldn’t be able to run anymore, lumbered close. Its mouth hung open, drooling hungrily as it approached. Rachel could smell the pungent breath billowing towards her and she held Cedric close, tucking his face into her chest. He didn’t need to see this.

Turning her own head away, she pressed her forehead into his fur, tense with anticipation. If she could remember her life, it would be flashing before her eyes, right now.

This was it. This was how she died. We’re dead…!

“Leaf Blade! Agile Style!”

A man’s voice broke through the existential fear she felt, quickly proceeding another loud bellow accompanying unsteady thundering footsteps. Daring to open her eyes, the Hippowdon staggered backwards, mouth open in a pained roar. A long gash bled across its snout, tinging the air with an iron taste.

Standing protectively in front of her was a man in blue robes, with gold embroidery along several seams, as though his clothes had seen many repairs over the years. His long blue hair cascaded onto his shoulders, undercut with grey like pottery glaze.

The Pokémon he was commanding was a Leafeon, the Hippowdon’s blood coating the edge of its leafy tail as it stood between its master and the enemy Hippowdon.

Never had Rachel been so glad to see a stranger.

The man turned back to meet her gaze, dark brown eyes intense, but concerned. “Are you okay?”

At a loss for words, all the woman could do was nod. “Uh-huh…!”

Giving her a confident smile, Adaman turned his attention back to the alpha Hippowdon that had threatened her and her Pokémon’s lives. The moment his eyes met hers, he was determined to protect her and save her life. She had kind eyes.

“Leafeon. Leaf Blade. Strong style. Drive it away!” He commanded his Pokémon.

With the boost in agility thanks to starting off with an Agile Style move, Leafeon was able to deliver a hefty blow to the alpha Hippowdon before it could attack, slicing a deeper gash into its face and causing the very mud to stain even more scarlet than it already was.

Deciding that it had been beaten, it trounced away, leaving behind tremors and the scent of blood in its wake. The man didn’t chase after it, letting it flee. Rachel remembered seeing bloody battles like this, before, but thankfully this wasn’t as gruesome.

This man wasn’t out for blood, he was just trying to protect her.

Once the Hippowdon was long gone, the man sighed, pressing his forehead into the palm of his hand. A cursory look informed Rachel that he wore bandaging on both his hands – bandaging on his left that stopped at his wrist and bandaging on his right that ran all the way up his arm under his sleeve.

His Leafeon quickly dashed to meet Rachel and cheek her and Cedric over. “Are you alright?” He asked her.

Reaching to pet the Grass Pokemon, Rachel sighed in relief. “Yeah, we are…thanks to you.” Looking up at the man, Rachel tried to get up, hissing in pain. “You came just in time…”

Hearing her hiss in pain, Adaman quickly kneeled down to prevent her from trying to stand. “I’ll take the compliment, but I wouldn’t try to get up. You’re hurt.” He said sternly, keeping a hand on her shoulder as he looked down.

His Leafeon sniffed at the woman’s right ankle and gently pressed a paw into it, causing her to lurch. “Ouch!” Rachel exclaimed, trying to pull her leg away. “Fuck that hurts…”

“Hm…” Adaman hummed, looking at it. “I don’t think it’s broken, thankfully, but we can’t be sure. We’ll have to take you back to the settlement to get a proper look at it and get you treated.”

While he was thinking of how to help her, he properly took her in. She certainly wore some very strange clothes. She was rather bundled up, wearing a button jacket and a cowl on her shoulders and a long flowing skirt that faded out in transparency when it reached her feet. She wore some frames affixed with glass on her face. Maybe she was vision impaired and they helped her see. He’d seen it before a couple times in passing when visiting the village.

And on her left hand was a strange glove of sorts, almost like armour meant to give the appearance of sharp claws. There was a strange iridescent stone embedded on the back of her hand that shifted in colour in the light, though it was predominantly green.

She looked tough, but her face was soft and her eyes were warm and inviting. Tough on the outside, soft on the inside, he figured.

Rachel was just as much taking in the man who had saved her life as he was taking in the woman he had just saved after she had fallen into his world from beyond the rift. He wore his hair in a ponytail tied with a pale ribbon, but only from the sides of his hair and the front, letting the rest of it flow freely. A solid unconnected collar with a diamond embedded in it hung loosely from his neck and when Rachel took a closer look at his eyes, she noticed a few things.

His left eyebrow had a nick in it and he was actually wearing blue makeup, giving, giving the illusion of longer eyelashes. It gave him a bit of a softer appearance, a subtle elegance to his overall look.

While they were taking each other in, Adaman cleared his throat. They didn’t have time to waste. “Where did you come from?” He asked.

“The rift, I think.” Rachel replied, glancing around at the wild Pokémon that were no longer there before looking up at the rift itself swirling at the top of the large mountain in the distance. “It’s what everyone’s been saying, so I have to assume they saw me fall from the sky.”

Adaman raised an eyebrow at her. “Who’s ‘everyone?’” He knew she could speak to her Zorua, but her Zorua could speak to her. That wasn’t a shock to him, knowing the stories he’d heard from Sabi of the Zorua that dwelled in the Alabaster Icelands.

“The Pokémon.” Rachel replied simply, shrugging. “They were surprised I could speak to them because they saw me come through the rift. I’m…not sure how common that is here, but where I’m from, it’s…not that common.” There was a discomfort in her stomach as little bits and pieces of memory wriggled their way in. Things she knew, and then the reasons why she knew them lagging behind only to rear their heads and slowly crawl through.

She remembered not being treated kindly for her unusual connection to Pokémon. She hoped that that wasn’t the case, here. It was the last thing she needed right now.

“I see.” Adaman replied calmly. Strange how an outsider and a stranger could speak to Pokemon the way the clans did. How odd…but he was certainly pleasantly surprised to see it. “Well, I know you came from the rift. But where did you come from beyond it? The world before this one?”

That was a harder question to answer. Rachel parsed her mind for any concrete answers, but couldn’t find any. She could only describe any information incidentally, when confronted with it immediately and remembering what was familiar and what wasn’t. But she couldn’t really recall anything. “I don’t know…I don’t remember a whole lot of anything, honestly.”

The Diamond Clan leader was disappointed to hear that, though he supposed he should’ve anticipated that. “You at least remember your friend, that’s important.” He commented, gesturing to Cedric. Adaman reached out to let the Zorua get a good scent of him before he reached to pet the Pokemon. Cedric let him, not getting any reason to distrust him from his emotions or his energy. “Do you at least remember your name?”

Taking a moment to think, that came easier to her than anything else. She remembered Cedric quicker than she remembered herself. It was both disappointing, and a huge relief. It meant that in this crazy unfamiliar world, she had someone she could trust completely. “It’s…Rachel.” She replied, looking up at the man who had saved her. “My name is Rachel.”

Smiling warmly at her, he nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, Rachel.” He replied, savouring the taste of her name on his tongue before introducing himself. “I’m Adaman, leader of the Diamond Clan. But you can just call me Adaman. And this is my partner, Leafeon.”

Rachel scoffed playfully for a moment, wanting to relieve the tension in her chest and her body somehow. “At this point, I’d like to call you my hero. Or even just very easy on the eyes, because you are quite the sight for a sore pair of them.”

He laughed good-naturedly, amused by her forwardness and sense of humour. At least she was in good spirits now that her life was no longer in danger. “Is this how you show your thanks to everyone who saves you?”

She shrugged. “Can’t recall. But it’s how I’m showing my thanks to you.” So this was the Diamond Clan those Pokémon were talking about. Given that his connection to Leafeon was just like hers with Cedric, she could see how the wild Pokémon decided that they were off the table in terms of food.

Cradling her Zorua, she held him on her arm. “This is Cedric. He’s been my partner for a very long time.” She said to the man – Adaman. “There’s no one I trust more than him. Truthfully, I’d be lost without him.”

“I feel the same way about Leafeon.” Adaman replied kindly. Already, Rachel felt much safer, knowing that there were people here. She already felt a kindred spirit with this man who had saved her. Hopefully, he’d be able to help her make some sense of all this. “Now, let’s get you back so we can have your ankle looked at. And hopefully, I’ll be able to answer any questions you might have.”

Nodding, she let him take her hand, slinging her arm across her shoulders to take the weight off her ankle. “I’d really like that…” She murmured. Cedric took his comfortable and familiar place on her shoulder while the man’s Leafeon took her other side, letting Rachel put a hand on his shoulders for stability. “Thank you, Adaman…”

“Don’t mention it.” He replied easily, gently giving her arm a comforting squeeze. “It was the least I could do.”

On the way up the slope, Rachel could now properly take the time to appreciate the surroundings. Though unfamiliar, the landscape was breathtaking! It was incredibly beautiful, untouched by human development and sprawling as far as the eye could see, horizon to horizon. There was nothing here but nature, and she couldn’t help but love it.

There could be worse places to be transported through spacetime to.

Once they reached the top of the slope, Adaman saw a woman with red hair in blue robes with the same symbol on the chest as was on his back in the shape of a pentagon. “You found it!” She exclaimed as she drew close and had a proper look at Rachel. “Oh, you poor thing. You must be what fell from the sky.”

Glancing at Adaman for a moment, she nodded. “Yeah…that’s me.”

“Oh, and your clothes! And your hair!” Rachel was trying desperately not to notice the awful sensation of mud caked and drying in her hair. She was always so fussy about it and honestly, she was on the brink of sensory overload at this point. “Don’t tell me we’re just going to leave her like this.”

“She’s injured.” Adaman said firmly to the red-haired woman, looking Rachel and her clothes over. Cedric backed away, not quite comfortable with the proximity with this stranger. There was nothing wrong with her, it was just a bit much right now. “She hurt her ankle trying to get away from the alpha Hippowdon in the bog. We need that taken care of right away.”

Nodding, the woman put a hand on Rachel’s shoulder. “I’ll go find Mai.” She said to the leader before offering a smile towards the stranger. “And when I get back, I’ll make sure to get you and your clothes all cleaned up for you so you can sleep comfortably, tonight.”

This woman was effectively a stranger to her, but she was being incredibly kind. It was hard for Rachel to even know how to respond, but gratitude was probably the first thing. “Thank you…that’s really kind of you.”

“Please, it’s nothing. I can’t just let you go on like this.” She replied, smiling. “My name is Arezu. I’m the Diamond Clan warden for the Lady of the Ridge.”

The stranger from the sky returned her smile warmly. “Rachel.” She replied. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Quickly, the red-haired woman left down the slope, making her way across the mirelands as Adaman continued to lead Rachel up the slope. Reaching the settlement, Rachel quickly absorbed the scenery before her. There weren’t a lot of people that seemed to live here and the people that lived here were of varying ages. But one thing Rachel noticed was that there were either elders, young children, or young adults. She didn’t see a lot of adults that weren’t elders.

The implications of that were rather sombre.

But there were quite a few tents. Actually, the tents were surprisingly large, capable of housing multiple people most likely, arranged in a circle a fair distance from a large rock in the middle of the camp.

The long shadow was cast by the large obelisk, almost giving the appearance of a sundial. Actually, now that she thought about it, this probably served as a sundial for the clan to use to tell the time. She couldn’t help but comment on it. “Very clever of your clan to have your camp function as a sundial. Very inspired.”

Chuckling in amusement, Adaman nodded. “We worship almighty Sinnoh, creation itself and ruler of time.” He said to her, slowly walking her to one of the tents. “Legends say that when almighty Sinnoh took his first breath, time began to flow. So, by having a way of always knowing the time, we’re able to make sure it doesn’t go wasted.”

“Interesting.” She commented, though the word was tickling the back of her head. The word was incredibly familiar, but this was not what it referred to. Not in her world, at least, but she had definitely heard the word Sinnoh, before. Even this deity, this almighty Sinnoh, sounded familiar to her.

But the word and the deity didn’t line up in her head. She needed to perhaps learn more, when she had a chance.

As Adaman guided her into one of the tents, she took the opportunity to take it in. There was a hearth in the middle of the room at the edge where one could start a fire for heat, or to make food or hot water. On one side of the room was a bunk bed and on the other was a wardrobe. The room was warm coloured and it was very cozy. It was rather comfortable and homey.

On the far side of the room were two paintings of what looked like important figures. A man with blazing hair that sprawled in all directions and a man with red hair that slicked down, wearing large Diamond Clan robes. Naturally, her curiosity got the better of her. “Who are they?” She asked.

Looking at the paintings, Adaman gently guided Rachel to the bottom bunk and sat her down so she could sit comfortable. Cedric jumped off her shoulder to lay next to her and Leafeon laid at her feet.

He sighed looking at the paintings. They gave off the energy of a time long passed, but for at least one of these men, Adaman still had living memories of him. “This man was my grandfather.” He said to Rachel, hands in his pockets as he looked up at the painting. “He founded the Diamond Clan a long time ago.”

Rachel looked up at Adaman, pensive as he stared at the painting. A solemnness permeated the air between them. Adaman referred to his grandfather in the past tense, meaning that his grandfather was long gone.

And since she didn’t see anyone old enough to be his parents as of yet, another possibility made itself known. “How long…has it been since?”

A heavy sigh spilled out of the man as he reached to scratch the back of his head. “Long enough.” He said, turning to Rachel to look at her. Though he considered himself a good judge of character, people could surprise you. And, as much as he had a good feeling about her, she was still effectively a stranger. He needed to properly judge what kind of person she was. “My parents died when I was young…so my grandfather raised me until he eventually passed.”

Familiarity shuddered through her. It came in waves, first a sense of helplessness, then a wave of relief, then confusion, and finally anguish. Once the feelings passed, then came the memories. Foggy, unclear, and fragmented…but they were there. They were clear enough for Rachel to know the truth.

That this was something she had in common with him. “If it’s any consolation…I think I know what that’s like. And…” She paused, swallowing the tightness that suddenly formed in her throat. She didn’t tear her gaze away from him as she reached to keep her hand on Cedric’s fur. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. It’s not fair.”

Adaman searched her face for any sign of sincerity, any sign that she could be just trying to get into his good graces by appealing to a sense of empathy and compassion. But he could sense no such deception, her eyes reflecting his own like a pristine mirror.

There was no insincerity in her gaze. “You do, don’t you…?”

Solemnly, she nodded.

Taking a moment, Adaman decided to sit down beside her, his weight making his side of the bed sink a little, pulling Rachel towards him slightly. “As for the other man, he’s the Hero of Hisui.” He said, gesturing to the painting of the man with the wild fiery hair. “He lived in this region a long time ago, and with him were ten Pokémon. They were his companions. Legends say he once saved the whole region as one with his Pokémon and helped found the clans. His Pokémon were all blessed with almighty Sinnoh’s power, and now it is our duty in both the Diamond and Pearl clans to show respect towards and thank the descendants of those Pokémon for protecting us and making this land habitable to us. That’s the relationship between our nobles and our wardens.”

Arezu did mention something about a Lady of the Ridge. “That explains what your friend said earlier.”

“She’s more of a sister, actually.” Adaman corrected, his hand fiddling with the pentagon bead pendent that kept his coat held together at the front. “Many of us are, myself, Arezu, Mai, and Melli. We…lost our parents in old wars with the Pearl Clan, so we bonded and…became a family.”

Old wars…no wonder the population seemed so small. “Are…you still at war with them?”

“No, thankfully.” Adaman replied, genuine relief in his tone of voice. “But things are still…tense. Neither of our clans want to go back to those times when we were at each other’s throats, but neither of us really see eye-to-eye, either. It’s a bit of a difficult situation to navigate.”

“I can imagine.” Rachel said, sympathizing with Adaman, reaching to put a hand on his shoulder. “But the important thing is that you’re trying, right? You’re trying to make a better world so that neither of your clans have to suffer what you suffered in the past in the future. Isn’t that what matters…?”

He was surprised to hear the casual and calm wisdom that she was so willing to give. Smiling, he chuckled a little. “I think I might like you.”

Rachel couldn’t stop the involuntary smile that creased her cheeks. Looking up at the painting of Adaman’s grandfather closely, there was something about it that was strangely familiar. The man’s face reminded her of someone from her past. Not exactly the same, but as the memory slowly resurfaced, like it was just underwater, she could parse the similarities.

As though the two individuals could be family. Two groups at each other’s throats…who can’t see eye-to-eye…that feels very familiar.

Deciding to light the hearth, Adaman got up to strike a piece of flint to get it going. “I’m going to make some tea.” He said to his guest. “In the meantime, is there anything else I can tell you? I’m sure you’ve got questions, and if you’ve got them, then I’ll do my best to answer them to the best of my ability.”

Glancing between Cedric and Adaman, Rachel asked her immediate first question. “Where are we? What is this place?”

“You’re in the Hisui region.” Adaman replied, filling a teapot with tea leaves and water from a barrel he ladled into the pot before setting it on the hearth and sat back down next to her. “The Diamond and Pearl Clans have lived here for a very long time, though we’re not the oldest people that have lived here and we came here from a distant place a long time ago. It’s an…unforgiving place, I will admit. But, it’s home. You’re specifically in the Crimson Mirelands, protected by Lady Lilligant, the Lady of the Ridge.”

That must be the noble that Adaman mentioned. The one Arezu is warden to. Searching for more questions to ask, she landed on a curious one. “So, why exactly is it that things are so tense between the clans? Did something happen?”

Adaman scoffed, trying to think of how best to explain the situation and the history. “It’s not quite like that.” He said, burying his chin in his hand for a moment. “See, the Pearl Clan believes that almighty Sinnoh rules over space rather than time. And because of our differing beliefs, especially back then, it’s caused a lot of strife. We’re trying to move forward, but it’s not easy when we’re constantly at odds with one another.”

Rachel nodded. “Because of differing theological beliefs.” She murmured, thinking. Now that she had a basic idea of the other side of the coin, things were starting to piece together in her head as foggy memories grew clearer. “You know, this idea of almighty Sinnoh is actually quite familiar to me, but that’s not what we called it.”

That struck Adaman’s intrigue. “No? What name did your people have for it?”

“We called it ‘the Original One,’ or simply ‘the Alpha.’” Rachel answered, remembering what she was told about it from…someone. Someone she couldn’t remember, but she knew was important to her. A realization that made a hole yawn in her chest where that person used to be. “It’s said that it emerged from a lone egg in the centre of nothing. The Original One emerged from this single egg and proceeded to shape the universe with its one thousand arms. From it, matter was born. And thereafter, spirit.”

He nodded. He had never heard this part of the myth, but it sounded like it fit. “Now I really want to know where you came from. It sounds like almighty Sinnoh, but a bit different.”

“That’s what’s stumping me right now.” Rachel admitted, the gears now turning in her head. “Because the Original One was never said to have created either space or time individually. Just ‘matter,’ which is both time and space. I’m confused how your clans arrived at the beliefs you did if you worship the same deity because realistically…time and space can’t exist without the other. They both create matter. If time didn’t flow, space wouldn’t expand or change or even move at all. It would just lay static, it might as well not exist. And without space, time would have nothing to influence. It would exist in a state of nothingness, and also might as well not exist. The two are inseparable.”

Adaman wasn’t sure what to make of this information, and yet Rachel spoke of it as though it were simply common knowledge. Where did she come from where this information was so readily accessible that she just knew it? He never even considered this viewpoint, before.

But the real question was what did this mean if she was right? “So, then what’s your take on this?”

Looking at Adaman, she struggled to find the right words. She didn’t want to offend him – he’d been so kind, after all. But she didn’t want to lie to him, either. That wouldn’t be right and it wouldn’t be the right way to build a foundation of trust. “I think that we have a proverbial puzzle that is incomplete.” She said, opting to use a metaphor to get her point across. “And I think that some pieces are the correct pieces, but they’re being put in the wrong place. Because the truth of the matter is…if there is a true version of Sinnoh, then in my opinion based on what I know…there are two possibilities, and neither of them are that the Diamond or Pearl Clan are individually correct in their beliefs.

“What I think is this.” She prefaced, taking a deep breath. “Either you’re worshipping the same entity that is almighty Sinnoh, and almighty Sinnoh and the Original One are indeed one and the same and thus created both space and time. Or neither of you are, and you’re each worshipping a different deity mistaking it for Sinnoh. Those are the only two logical possibilities in my mind, knowing what I know.”

That was definitely something difficult to swallow. No one liked being told that what they’d believed their whole life was wrong, and if this was years ago, Adaman might have had a similar reaction his grandfather would have.

But he wasn’t the leader of the Clan, anymore. Adaman was. And more than Adaman believed in his version of almighty Sinnoh, he believed in the truth. And that was what they didn’t have right now. All they could do was guess and speculate, but without solid proof, they couldn’t make conclusions.

He felt inclined to believe Rachel, but this also seemed like a matter that only time could truly tell.

“That’s…certainly something to think about. And I’ll even admit that I’ve had some questions about almighty Sinnoh’s true nature myself – though, don’t let anyone else know that I said that.” Adaman admitted candidly.

Chuckling a little bit, Rachel nudged his shoulder. “Don’t worry. My lips are sealed. Your secrets are safe with me.”

“I hope so.” He replied. Rachel was glad that he reacted well. At least Adaman seemed to have an open mind to learn more about the true nature of what he believed instead of blindly doing so.

If he was willing to question his own beliefs, it meant that the truth mattered to him. It meant she could trust him.

Hearing the kettle about to go off, Adaman decided he was willing to take one more question. “Any other questions you have for me?”

There was only one question Rachel had that seemed like a pretty obvious one to ask. “What year is it?”

That was an easy enough question to answer. “1246 A.C.”

Suddenly breaking into a fit of coughing, choking on her own spit for a moment, Rachel lurched forward. The immediate temporal incoherence it caused in her own mind was visceral and a wrongness seeped into her very bones. She didn’t remember a whole lot, but she remembered enough to know that that was wrong.

There was no way…but she did the math in her head, trying to remember the last date she’d written down, and it was true. She couldn’t believe it. “That can’t be…! That’s nearly three hundred years ago!”

Concerned, Adaman put a hand on her back to try and help her through her coughing fit, but he was utterly astounded. Three hundred years from the future? It was no wonder she landed near the Diamond Clan. A traveler through time? She must have been swimming in almighty Sinnoh’s divine power on the other side of the rift.

It was no wonder she seemed so knowledgeable. It was hard for him to not find himself starstruck, but he was more concerned about Rachel not choking to death. “Take it easy, it must be shocking to learn that.” He could understand how daunting this must feel for her, but he was fighting to not see this as a blessing from almighty Sinnoh.

There must be a reason she was sent to them from the future. There must be.

Three hundred years…she couldn’t believe it. Eventually, she managed to stop coughing and Adaman got up to grab her a cup of tea. Pouring it for her, he carefully handed it to her and took his seat back next to her. “Now, please don’t choke on this one.”

Laughing a little bit, Rachel was briefly relieved from the harrowing realization. She had hoped that she had just suffered some spacial displacement, but this was far worse. She had gone back in time. How could one travel through time?

And most importantly, how was she supposed to get home?

Taking a sip of the tea, Rachel instantly relaxed. It was very earthy, but it was good. It soothed her. “Thank you, Adaman. It’s good.”

“I’m here for whatever you need.” He assured her, setting the kettle down on the nearest table. It wouldn’t be long before Arezu arrived with Mai and they’d tend to Rachel and she’d have a good night’s rest. It was probably getting very late at this point. “I know this must be scary for you, but maybe there’s a reason you’re here. Maybe almighty Sinnoh sent you to our time for a reason.”

She appreciated what he was trying to do, she really did. But none of that was a comfort for him. Not that he’d know that – they’d just met. How could he reasonably expect to know that about her? “I appreciate the sentiment, but that’s not as comforting for me as it is for you.”

Adaman was disappointed to hear that, though he supposed he shouldn’t have assumed his belief in his deity would be a comfort for everyone. Especially a stranger from another world foreign to his culture. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. You were just trying to help.” Rachel was quick to assure him. He wasn’t being malicious, he was just trying to do a kind thing for her. “I’m just…not comforted by the idea that my life and destiny is in the hands of some predetermined course or in the hands of some distant abstract cosmic entity. There’s too much attached to that idea that just…makes me think of it as cruel. It’s less comforting to think that some deity intended for bad things to happen than it is that bad things just happen, I guess…”

He supposed he could understand that point of view. He didn’t necessarily agree with it. After all, if some event or hardship was intended by almighty Sinnoh, then it had a purpose. There was a point to it. If hardships and tragedies just happened, then…there was no point.

That was less of a comfort for him. “Well, Mai and Arezu should be here soon to help get you cleaned up.” He said, putting a hand on her shoulder as he got up from the bed, rolling his shoulders as he walked away. “If I don’t see you tonight, then I’ll be sure to check on you in the morning.”

The moment Adaman left, a sudden jolt of fear ran through her. He was the only person she was at all comfortable and familiar with in the moment. She was in a camp with complete strangers in a time period not her own, trusting all of these people with her.

Yes, Adaman was also effectively a stranger and at best, an acquaintance by circumstance, but he was the most familiar and comfortable person she had.

And right now, she didn’t feel safe. “Wait…!”

Stopping in his tracks, Adaman glanced back at her. The fear in her wide eyes caught him by surprise and he patiently waited for her to say what she needed. “Yes?”

Swallowing her pride, Rachel reached for him. She gently grabbed him by the wrist, being careful not to put any weight on her ankle until Arezu and Mai arrived. “Please stay…” She quietly pleaded, struggling to meet his gaze. “You’re the only person I feel comfortable trusting right now, and…and I’m scared…”

He wasn’t made of stone. As confident as Rachel seemed, she was still a person alone in a world separated from the one she knew. Of course she’d be scared. He should’ve thought about that. It wouldn’t be any trouble for him to indulge her for one night. Hopefully in time, she’d get more comfortable with the rest of the clan.

Adaman was confident that she was sent to his clan for a reason. He would wait as long as he needed to find out what that reason was. The least he could do was help her settle in. “Alright. I’ll stay, tonight.” He agreed, coming back to sit with her, grabbing a cup of tea for himself. “I’ll take the top bunk.”

“Nah, I want the top bunk.” Rachel quickly said, trying to shake off the brief fear of being left alone from her skin. “I like being up high.”

The Diamond Clan leader couldn’t help but snicker in amusement. “I would never have guessed that a tiny woman like you would like to be tall.”

Squinting at the man who’d saved her life and offered her a place to stay, Rachel breathed out a long sigh through her nose. “You’re so lucky I like you, Adaman…” She grumbled.

The man in blue laughed back in response. “I could say the same thing, Rachel.” He replied playfully, gently elbowing her. He had high hopes for her.

Maybe she would be the key to unravelling the mysteries behind what was really going on. Maybe that was why she was sent to the Diamond Clan, to figure out how to quell Lord Electrode.

Only time would tell.

#SafeshipSeptember #୨⎯ A Message On The Wind ⎯୧ #୨⎯ Then It Has Done You No Good At All ⎯୧ #୨⎯ Pokémon Trainer Rachel ⎯୧ #୨⎯ Leader of the Diamond Clan ⎯୧ #୨⎯ Tricky as a Fox ⎯୧

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bloodybloob · 2 years ago

Note

Fic idea! Wild discovers mortal cooking, promptly falls in love with it and surprises his brothers with a good meal!

Yes! An excuse to write about Wild cooking!

(Link to the au this is about here).

—

“Come on Sky, come ON!” Wild dragged the older god through their bedroom.

“Look Wild, I’m glad to see you’re doing decently good on your leg today and that your alive with energy, but what is it that is so important that you had to bodyslam me awake…?” Sky pouted as the shorter god pulled him through the cloud barrier.

“You’ll see!” Was his only answer. Externally, Sky merely hummed, internally, he wailed in tired agony.

Once they came through to the other side, he saw what he could only describe as a fancier and much larger version of a mortal’s kitchen, to suit their much larger size.

“Did you… ask Time to make you a kitchen…?” Sky asked with genuine confusion.

“That’s what we’ve been asking.” Sky turned and saw the the majority of the others gods situated on red pillows, a short table was between them.

Four, the one who had spoken, was sitting next to Wind, who was tapping the table in boredom, Warriors was also sat beside the Wind God. Twilight sat by himself while Hyrule and Legend whispered to each other on the opposite end of Warriors, Wind and Four.

“What-?”

“-Is going on?” Sky whipped his head around and saw Time. The elder god had just stepped into the room with a mildly confused face.

“Wild, I made this room twenty minutes ago, how did you already get everyone-“ Time was rudely interrupted as Wild pushed him and Sky towards the table.

“Sit!” Was all he said. Sky decided to humor the boy and sat down next to Hyrule while Time sat down next to Twilight.

The eldest god was close enough to where Sky could hear when Twilight leaned in and asked- “What mischief have you wrought this time?”

“He said he was experimenting, any of Wild’s ‘experimenting’ are better off here than down on Earth.” The old man responded.

“They’re done!” Wild squealed, gaining everyone’s attention. The scarred god pulled out a freshly baked tray of what looked like chocolate chip cookies.

“Woah! How did you make cookies that big?” Wind spoke with awe in his tone.

“My recipe, my secret.” Wild smirked as Wind let out a whine of disappointment.

“Better question, why did you make food? We’re gods, we don’t need food.” Legend said as he gestured to everyone around the table, them all being in their god forms made to accentuate his point.

“We’ll, it’s just… sometimes you bring mortal traditions you enjoy to us! I got curious and decided to poke around some and found out about cooking! I’m sure I was aware of it before all the amnesia but right now it fascinates me!

“I have a super hard time remembering stuff, but cooking is so easy that it doesn’t matter! There are mortal books and everything that helps me remember and learn new recipes, I even got one with extra pages to add my own notes on stuff so I don’t forget.”

Wild’s grin began to grow wider the longer he went on, getting more rushed and thorough in his explanation, not wanting a single detail of his experiences or thought process to be left out.

Sky smiled brightly. “We’ll come on then, we don’t want our cookies to grow cold.”

“Wild stared at him for a moment, before he beamed and scrambled forward with the tray. In the process he tripped over his bad leg and the cookies went flying through the cloud barrier.

“No! My cookies!” Wild looked absolutely distraught as he watched his cookies bounce into the barrier. Anything without direction in where it wanted to go in the cloud barrier would immediately vanish from existence, objects tended not to have any sort of will.

“Hey, it’s alright Wild we can help make you more.” Twilight reassured.

Wild sniffles and brought big, watery eyes up to the god. “Really?”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, we can all pitch in and learn cooking together!” Warriors crouched down beside the weepy god, ruffling his hair and earning a giggle.

“Sure can! Look I’ve already- OH SWEET SUGAR WATER!” Sky watched as Hyrule somehow managed to immediately set fire to the stove by trying to use magic to turn it on.

“HYRULE!” The others moved forward and tried to use all of their abilities at once to douse the flames, which only made it worse.

“God save us.” Time muttered beside Sky.

The dirty blonde narrowed his eyes at the old man. “You ARE God.”

Time sighed. “I know, and I am currently choosing to ignore that fact.”

—

This was just a fun little thing I whipped up, hope you liked it anon! I tried to give everyone a chance to speak here, wanted them all to be included! (I think I forgot to post this, whoops!)

#linked universe #wild linked universe #sky linked universe #four linked universe #wind linked universe #warriors linked universe #hyrule linked universe #legend linked universe #twilight linked universe #time linked universe #lu #answered asks #writing

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bakuhoes-dumbass · 4 years ago

Text

Aberration - Chapter 2

MHA!Various x Fem!Reader

Thriller/Horror/Drama

Criminal!AU

Words: 1.5k

A/N: Yay, here’s the second chapter of my new AU! It’s a little shorter but I promise chapters will get longer as we go.

Warnings: Yandere Themes, Mentions of murder, blood, felonies, bullying, swearing.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of MHA, just this story. In no way does this reflect the characters, writers or VAs of the show/manga. MINORS DNI.

~~~

Aberration Masterlist

~~~

"Now, on to your next subject. Inmate 04, Eijiro Kirishima." You flip the page of your inmate profiles to see a picture of a red-haired man. "He is of a higher danger level, so make sure to keep your guard up. And for the love of God, under any circumstances…

Do not touch him."

Only slightly acknowledging his warning, you look down at your notes, eyebrows shooting up in surprise at the words on the page. "He suffers from Erotomania? Interesting…"

Aizawa nods. "Ah, yes. A very rare condition indeed, especially in males. The affected person strongly believes that another individual is in love with them. This delusion develops and persists despite clear evidence to the contrary."

"That's a very exciting find. I can't wait to meet him." Your eyes light up, quite intrigued.

Aizawa sighs and gestures with his head. "Follow me."

Kirishima's room was only a few doors down from Tokoyami's. Once again, Aizawa presses his hand to a key code and you hear the door unlock, following a buzzer. You slowly make your way into the room. It mirrors Tokoyami's down to the last detail, the only difference being a redhead was currently doing pushups.

He barely acknowledges a person stepping into his room, eyes flitting to your form and back to the ground. It takes him a moment to realize it was someone new. As soon as he does, his eyes widen and he springs onto his feet, slightly startling you.

"Oh! Hello there! You're new!"

You nod your head and smile at the red-head. "That I am. My name is Y/N and I'm the newest scientist at this facility. My role here is to get to know and observe you all to help further our findings for a cure." You choose to leave out the 'friends' part, as something about him makes you weary. You don't need anything being misinterpreted.

"Hello there, Y/N! My name is Kirishima!" He takes a step towards you but is suddenly stopped by a lower force. You look down to see his ankles chained to the heavy-duty bed frame, connected to him by quirk-canceling cuffs. You look back up to see him looking at you intensely, with a shark-toothed smile. "Man, you're really pretty!"

You swallow thickly, but keep your smile. "That's very kind of you to say, Kirishima. Now, if I may." You take a seat at the desk like you did with Tokoyami. Kirishima follows suit and sits across from you on the bed. His smile never wavers, making you slightly uneasy. You ignore it and turn to a blank page in your notebook. "Now, if you could please state your full name, age and date of birth?"

He gives you a chuckle and points to himself proudly with his thumb. "I'M Eijiro Kirishima! I'm 22 years old and my Birthday is October 16th!"

You giggle softly at his extroverted personality. "Ahh, same birth month as Tokoyami." You mumble to yourself. His ears perked up and his smile faltered slightly.

"You met Tokoyami already?"

"Hm?" You look up and smile fondly. "Ah yes, I have. He was the first one. A very nice young man."

You look back down at your notes, failing to see Kirishima's eye twitch slightly. He returns to his signature smile as you look up at him again. "And what is your quirk?"

"Oh, it's so cool! I can harden my entire body to an extreme. I can make myself a shield or a weapon! Pretty manly, am I right?" Kirishima wiggles his eyebrows at you, causing you to chuckle.

"That is definitely a unique one, Kiri." You, once again, fail to notice the way his eyes light up at the nickname, too busy looking down at your notes. "Now I see here that you've been charged with Stalking and 2 counts of second degree murder. Is that correct?"

"Yup! Although I don't understand how it would be considered 'Stalking', when she always knew I was around. She was okay with it, too! I mean, we WERE in love, you know." He furrows his brows.

You raise a brow and write down everything he says. "Care to continue explaining what happened? Why were you brought into this facility?"

Kirishima sighs and rests his chin on his hand, a dazed look on his face. "Well, you see. There was this girl. We were totally, completely head over heels for each other. You've probably heard of her, Kim Hyuna?"

Your eyebrows shoot up. Yeah, you heard of her. She is one of the biggest idols around right now, extremely pretty and extremely talented. She has millions of fans from around the world. You already can see where the direction of this story is headed.

He continues with a wide smile. "We used to go out on dates everywhere. To the mall, the salon, even to her dorms. We were so in love." His dazed expression turns sour. "Then that stupid boy shows up outta nowhere. He took her from me. He dared to take something so precious from me. So, I couldn't take it anymore and, uh, kinda killed them."

You watched him rub the back of his neck sheepishly, like the situation was no more than a mere broken dish he dropped on accident. You nod your head carefully, writing the last bit of information down. Clicking your pen, you look up and give the young man a fake smile.

"Well, that's it for today, Kirishima. I must take my leave, but I'll be back to run some tests soon."

Kirishima frowns and quickly stands up. "W-Wait, already?"

You gather up your notes and clipboard. "Yes, unfortunately. I do have some other patients I need to get to before-" as you go to stand up, your foot gets caught under the chair leg and you trip. You accidentally fall forward and into something hard. Looking up, you realized you fell against Kirishima himself, your hands splayed out against his chest.

His eyes widen, staring down at your hands against his chest, something shifting in his eyes. Before you're able to pull your hands away, his own reach up and snatch your wrists, holding them in place. A blush appears on the apples of his cheeks.

"Y-Y/N. I-I had no idea you felt the same."

Your eyes widen in fear. You attempt to tug your hands away, but his iron grip tightens into a bruising force. "Kirishima, I would advise you to kindly let go of me. Please, don't misunderstand the situation."

His grin widens, showcasing his sharp teeth. Red eyes bore into yours with a wild look. You hear the door buzz behind you and a flood of voices coming in. You feel a pair of arms reach around you and hands grip your elbows. Two pairs of hands each grab Kirishima by the arms and force him to release his grip on you. You watched two of Aizawa's assistants hold down a struggling Kirishima as you were forcibly dragged out of his room.

Once safely outside, you were spun around to meet the eyes of a fuming and worried doctor. "Are you alright, Y/N?" Aizawa's eyes travel along your body, doing a quick examination to make sure nothing was injured.

You nod your head and rotate your slightly bruised wrists. "Y-Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little shaken up."

Aizawa sighs. "Didn't I say NOT to touch him? His obsession tends to solidify with physical contact."

You wince. "I know. This time it was an accident. I tripped and he just happened to, uh, be the 'wall' I fell against." You think back to the moment you fell against Kirishima. His chest felt almost rock solid, not like a normal human body would be. Now you're thinking that his quirk leaked through the cuffs and that thought scares you.

"Nobody said you were clumsy when you were hired," he sighs and runs a hand down his tired face. "There are still 9 other inmates you need to check with. And 6 out of the 9 are above Kirishima's danger level. Are you still up for it today?"

You shake out your hands and nod your head. "Yes! I am. A little scare never bothered me. This is my job."

Aizawa hummed in reply and flipped through his clipboard, stopping on a page. "Inmate 09, Keigo Takami. Mafia leader. He's a level 7 as well, but doesn't have delusions like Inmate 04 does. While he's very dangerous, he's a little more tolerable." Aizawa hesitates before continuing. "Er, minus the excessive flirting."

You sigh and flip through Keigo's information. "Oh goodie. Well, let's get this over with." You follow Aizawa to Keigo's door and once it buzzes, you enter the pristine, white room.

"Good afternoon Mr. Keigo, my name is Y/N and I'll-" You look up from your notes to see a half naked man with blonde hair and bright red bird wings lounging on his bed. Your jaw drops and you hold your clipboard up in front of your suddenly heated face.

Keigo looks over to you with his brows raised. "Well well, looks like we've got ourselves a new baby bird. How…" The handsome man's lips turn up into a cocky smirk.

"...interesting."

~~~

Taglist: @theblueslytherin @sterassion @somechick30003 @meena-in-a-nutshell @justtj-andnonumberspls @zombieonna @amajikiwife @yulifee @atexansadventureintokinkandlife @ep-ip-ha-ny @hcneymilkks @pastelmoonwitche @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @railmeddy @unlimitedfirepheonix @confaegion @drownedbytears @burntcrips @silverqueenie @the-lady-writes-what @awkward-confused @themotherofmoons @ihaveakoreanseoul @1-800-multifandomness @tragically-here @andyronii @sunnnyshark @henhouse-horrors @dabis-s-whore

(If your name is bolded, I couldn’t tag you)

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the12thnightproject · 2 years ago

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Spellbound

For: @kippin-art as part of the @flash-exchange

Character(s): Mitsunari, Ieyasu, Masamune, Nobunaga, Mitsuhide, Keiji, and Hideyoshi (sort of)

Prompt(s): Magical Apprenticeship AU, Aggressive Sentient Cookie Man, Teleporting at 2 a.m., and Chinese Zodiac... I kind of went a little wild on the prompts

Word count: 700

Title: Spellbound

Before ‘The Incident,’ weekly meetings of the Azuchi Wizard’s Guild followed a set agenda: social hour, the prior week’s minutes, current projects, and apprentice status reports. In the past, these meetings were smoothly moderated by Hideyoshi, but that was before… The Incident.

After that, meetings were concerned with one topic: “How Do You Solve a Problem Like Mitsunari?” One could put that to music (in fact, Keiji had done so).

“It’s your turn, Lad.” Masamune addressed Ieyasu and received a green-eyed death glare in response. “We’ve all done it. And survived.” He glanced toward Hideyoshi’s chair. “More or less.”

“Survived? A reminder: Aggressive Sentient Cookie Man.” At Ieyasu’s words, Masamune winced.

“You must admit that an army of those gingerbread soldiers would be terrifying.” Mitsuhide lounged in a club chair, petting his fox familiar. “His ideas are genius - their execution needs refining.”

In response, Ieyasu flicked his fingers, activating a memory in the scrying mirror:

“Wizard Mitsuhide, sir, I have perfected a teleportation spell!” Mitsunari holds out a paper.

“That would indeed be useful.” Mitsuhide scans the spell… then disappears… reappearing in a strange woman’s bedroom. “Well, this is most definitely not where I wanted to teleport. Sorry for appearing in your bed at two a.m.”

Supreme Wizard Nobunaga banged the gavel for attention. “A silent teleportation spell is quite useful. Mitsunari is too brilliant to be expelled.”

“Even after… that?” Ieyasu gestured to Hideyoshi’s chair, currently occupied by a monkey.

The monkey-formerly-known-as-Hideyoshi blew a raspberry.

“Bad timing that Mitsunari sneezed while creating a magic calendar. It might wear off… eventually?” Masamune shrugged. No one knew whether Hideyoshi would return to human form when the Year of the Monkey ended… or become a rooster.

“Everyone agrees, Ieyasu. It’s your turn.” Nobunaga snapped his fingers and Mitsunari’s apprenticeship contract appeared in Ieyasu’s hand.

Ieyasu glared at ‘everyone’ with an expression that clearly said, ‘I hate you all,’ then stalked out.

Outside the door, Mitsunari awaited his fate. Ieyasu sighed. “Don’t stand there. Come on.” Without waiting for a response, he continued walking.

Mitsunari hurried after. “Are you my new master? Thank you very much, Wizard, sir. I look forward to working with you.”

One week later…

“Well, Lad, how is Mitsunari’s apprenticeship going? You’ve been quiet tonight.” Small talk – but true. Ieyasu hadn’t even complained about anything.

Wordlessly, Ieyasu activated the scrying mirror…

Ieyasu plunks a tray of bottles on a lab table. “A refill request from the Government, for Diplomacy Potion. Follow the recipe exactly. Even you cannot screw it up.”

“Thank you very much, sir. I am honored by your faith in me.” Mitsunari bows.

The memory fast forwards to:

“Finished, sir.” Mitsunari brings the filled bottles to Ieyasu.

Ieyasu squints at them. “It looks cloudy.”

“I modified it.”

“How?” Ieyasu uncorks a bottle, releasing a pink cloud. “What did you do?” He takes a step back. The cloud follows. Another step. The cloud follows. Soon Ieyasu is scuttling around the room with the cloud bobbing after him like a cotton candy balloon.

“Some people hate the taste, so I aerosolized it.”

“Make it stop! Help me!”

Mitsunari tries to catch the spellcloud and in the process trips Ieyasu. While they are both tangled in Mitsunari’s robes, the spellcloud zooms up Ieyasu’s nose...

The mirror fades out.

“This would be an easy way to administer poison.” Mitsuhide was already planning the implementation of spellclouds.

“An extremely useful weapon.” Nobunaga nodded. “I’m pleased. Bring him in.”

Ieyasu opened the doors, motioning Mitsunari inside. “Don’t panic, friend. They love your modification. My fellow wizards, announcing the genius apprentice Mitsunari.” Then Ieyasu smiled.

All attention in the room snapped to Ieyasu. That smile was… creepy.

“Lad, how else did you modify the Diplomacy Spell?” Masamune nervously looked from Ieyasu to Mitsunari.

“The effects are strengthened by the delivery method.” Mitsunari played with his glasses.

“Dear me.” Mitsuhide smirked. “So Ieyasu is forced to be pleasant and diplomatic?”

Ieyasu smiled. Then he slapped his hand over his mouth and nodded.

“I brought the bottles with me,” Mitsunari held up a clinking sack. “If anyone wants to try… ah-ah-ACHOO!”

Crash

A cloud of pink smoke rose from the bag.

Meeting adjourned.

#ikemen sengoku fanfiction #magical apprenticeship AU #flash-exchange #ikesen mitsunari #ikesen ieyasu #ikesen masamune #ikesen nobunaga #ikesen mitsuhide #ikesen keiji #ikesen hideyoshi

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katsukikitten · 4 years ago

Text

Just some general warnings and disclaimers, this is an aged up Victorian era AU that I did a sort of collab with @bakugotrashpanda, so please check out BTP’s work as well. We had so much fun discussing this idea and breathing life into it, we would love to hear how these stories made you feel. Please also note that the woman in the banner is NOT the set skin tone for reader so please feel free to have that match your own skin tone! Also this is one of my bigger works coming in at a little over 14,000 words! (maybe a part two idk) but enjoy~

The room ebbs in the low light of flickering candles, people gather in clusters like lost geese as they honk their gossip at one another causing you to sigh. It would be another long night of mental games as your cold eyes fail to warm from the eccentric sights. Silk dresses, long gloves, shimmering gems, and endless drink and food.

Yet you hated how little power you had over your choice of being here or not.

Countless eyes rake over your long dress, always choosing a color so deep in hue it is often mistaken for black. They often murmur curiosities as they ponder over what exactly you are mourning.

Little do they know it is your freedom.

Tonight you are in blood red with matching gloves to your elbows, diamonds, garnets and rubies drip from your throat and ears. A sight to be seen in your bold dark colors that are often frowned upon during the bright season of spring and summer.

A bold male approaches and yet the closer he gets to your stunning form the more meek he becomes. He nods his head and reaches for your hand, pressing his lips to your gloved knuckles.

"May I have your first dance?" He peers up at you as you stare down with an icy glare. Removing your hand with deadly precision from a man you know of but could not care less about.

"You may not." You say simply and all he can do is stew in his rejection, affirming your wishes with a small nod. Another male in a smooth storm grey suit approaches. His large hand grasping onto your fingers, bringing your knuckles to his lips.

"You look exquisite my dear. Would you honor me with your first dance?"

"I shall not." Another subtle yet swift removal of your hand from his, wishing you had worn two pairs of gloves for this sniveling little asshole. Not everyone knew his secret love for abusing women but you did. He would never get the pleasure of dancing with you and in the two years since your introduction into the market you've made sure he had no one to wed. Using the power and respect people had towards your Father's name, towards you for guidance, ultimately steering them away from this pathetic sack of bones.

And with your power you were dubbed the icy hot debutante of Alryne, fierce as a flame so hot, it felt cold.

You wear a neutral face, but you do not smile, making yourself a touch unapproachable. This already weeds out the weak men who want nothing more than to suck the blood and money from your father's estate.

But it wasn't as if the neutral face was easy to achieve, oftentimes you had to fight a scowl. For two years you've hated every second of every ball, party, or soiree since the Queen smiled in your favor during your first debut. She often praised, as did your mother, your cold precision, quick wit, and intelligent political decisions that were so well disguised that men just thought you modest.

When in actuality you were playing the game, and since you were being forced to play by your father then by Hell's flames you would win it all.

The first half of the ball drags in stupor of tedious repetition as you idly chat with women of various titles to gather any information you could without revealing your own hand.

Besides all of the pestering gnats, everyone knows that your first dance is always reserved for important males, to never approach until after the two of your six stamps have already been taken. Even then there was a high chance of rejection, as there were no men of value to be seen.

At least not yet. For as long as you could remember the higher ranked males arrived a touch late, "fashionably late" they claim. Abhorrently annoying is what you call it.

Fashionably late men such as Lord Bakugou, son to the Duke of Summer or his distant cousin Lord Kirishima, son to the Duke of Spring.

Bakugou arrives first, his grin wolfish as he scans the crowd, women flock to his arrogance in troves, although he ignores them. He has one woman in his sights yet it is not the woman he stands before. You give a small courtesy as you speak.

"My Lord." Offering your hand gently.

"My Starlight." He presses his lips to your silky glove for a long moment unable to keep his cocky smirk off of his face, "May I take your first dance?"

Fighting to keep the delighted smile off of your face you offer a flutter of your lashes. He kisses your knuckles once more as if you needed convincing but the two of you know what you are doing.

"You may." And with that his wolfish grin returns as he sweeps you onto the dance floor, showcasing your abilities as he shows off his own. Not to mention the dance floor is a great place to talk in private. His hand lingers just above your lower back, firm in his grip as his other hand holds yours almost delicately.

"We match tonight, my Starlight. A brilliant touch." He guides you along the floor with ease, his eyes gesturing towards his vest and tie.

"I only took an educated guess as to what you would wear, my Lord."

"Do not sell yourself short. I know how sharp that mind is." Another wolfish grin, his eyes never leaving yours while feeling the court gaze upon the two of you. You give him a knowing smile before asking.

"Any luck with her majesty, the prized diamond?" You ask, eyes blazing with curiosity. He smirks again, only his eyes revealing his true scoff as he twirls you in your jeweled slippers.

"I did as you instructed and went with my father to that dreaded stay at the countryside Manor, how did you know her Majesty and Princess Amila would be close by."

"I took an educated guess." A blatant lie that has him grinning from ear to ear. He leans closer, pulling the attention of the ladies especially as his ember eyes burn into you.

"Far more than an educated guess." He spins you again and you fight the tightness in your gut. Enjoying the dance as he parades you around the room as if to say look at what I have that you could never.

Even if the two of you agreed you would never be his. The two of you having struck up an arrangement of sorts on your first dance. He was forced by his Grace to ask at least one woman to dance and he had only chosen you with hopes that you would say no.

But you loved the honest, irritated look that lingered in his eyes and on his lips. So of course you said yes as misery loves company. It was then he told you not to fall for him as he had his eyes set on the Crown, you laughed loudly and said "As if I would ever fall for an arrogant pig such as yourself, my Lord." His smile was wild as he enjoyed your insult, it was then you told him you would help him with the Crown, only if he made you his first and last dance of the evening at every event.

Back then he had hesitantly agreed, now he can see how far your scheming mind went. Saw the numerous callers and suitors who loitered in your parlor, the extravagant flowers that they sent in excess. The rings they bestowed to you as they dropped to one knee, bold enough to peacock the large diamonds in front of other callers.

And all after Bakugou had done as you asked for only three parties. He got a front row seat to rejection every single time, which in turn started the talk, the gossip, that this city loved. You were desired because of how you painted yourself and in turn made Lord Bakugou desired as well. Talked about, all because he was the only male who had your approval.

He loved your scheming mind so much he could kiss you, but alas you did not wear a crown. Although you often had a braid of jewels atop your head, sadly you were not kin to royalty, only a Baron's daughter after all.

Bakugou wonders what you could have done as a queen. He would think you an empress.

"Is that all the detail I get? Just a confirmation that I was correct about their holiday?" He spins the two of you in step, hand guiding you although you did not need it. Having memorized every step to every dance there was since before your debut.

"She saw me."

"And?!" You can hardly keep up the façade of calm collection as you wait.

"And she flushed. Her cheeks were as red as any rose, Starlight, she was a rare red diamond sparkling by the lake. She must already be in love with me." You snort, unable to stop the smile on your lips.

"I've never heard you so poetic before. Normally you leave that to Lord Kirishima. How many times did you run into her? Not more than three I hope."

"Oi, I am a well versed student and I listened to my teacher. I made her wait for the fourth and denied it. Left her in wonder and hope as you said." He rolls his eyes, fingers sliding up to your dress line touching your bare skin with his beneath your guise of hair. The sensation of his warm fingers against your cool skin does not go unnoticed.

"Are you practicing for your dance with the 'rare red diamond' now?" You taunt, earning that chest tightening wolf grin.

"I'm only doing as my teacher has instructed."

"Well the Princess will fall for you the moment you kiss her hand."

"One can only hope. Her official debut is less than a month away. I want it to be perfect." His eyes shimmer with plotting mischief as does yours.

"So it shall."

The music flows and ebbs to the end of the song as Bakugou deposits you right back where he got you. Bringing your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles as he holds your gaze once more.

"My Starlight." When he straightens you curtsy.

"My Grace." With that he leaves, heading towards the table of sweets and beverages, you were sure he would be ordering bourbon. Your mother clears her throat from her chair, the out of season silk blanket over her thick skirts pulls at your heart. She sits on that plush chair as if it were her throne.

"You dance with Lord Bakugou often." An observation.

"Indeed." A dry retort.

"I am sure Lord Kirishima will be your next dance, correct?"

"One can only hope."

"So you have an eye for a Duke's son?"

"I am happy to dance with those deserving, Mother." Your mother keeps her eyes on the turning bodies on the hardwood floor, Kirishima makes his way through the crowd once he spies you. Your mother turns to face you as she says

"Is the Duke of Winter's son deserving?"

"Hmm, he has three sons, mother." You keep your eyes away from her until she finally looks back into the crowd.

"Ah yes but only one is ever at these events." You follow your mother's gaze and they fall upon the Lord, he is the third son, he opted to chase after the world of medicine rather than women. Earning his doctorate much faster than his peers, he only just returned to conduct his practice in Alryne.

Pity he returned at all.

He catches your eye and you make a point to turn your cheek, unable to stomach his heterochromatic, condensing gaze. Your turned cheek was as close to fuck you as you could ever say to the high and mighty Lord. Still the words burned on your tongue as if you swallowed acid.

"It is not as if he ever dances mother. Therefore, how can I give him my attention? As you taught me a woman must wait to be asked as it is every woman's dream to be wed to a handsome, skilled dancer." Out of the corner of your eye you can feel her displeased look before she straightens.

"At least do not string along Lord Kirishima, that boy is not as zealous as his cousin." She says just as the large man slips through the last throng of the crowd.

"My shining gem." He smiles with sharp teeth before he places a chaste kiss atop your hand.

"My Lord." A curtsy before he asks.

"May I have this dance?" His smile is plastered on his face as he knows your answer.

"You may." Kirishima sweeps you across the floor in a different manner than Bakugou. Lord Kirishima is more flirtatious in the way that he guides you. Always choosing more of the upbeat dances as opposed to his cousin's serious selection. You do not hesitate to go in for the kill.

"So when do you plan to ask Lady Mina for her hand?" He blushes at your words. Biting the inside of his lip subtly, a habit you could only notice from being up close.

"Have you even attempted to court her? What fear plagues you, Lord?" Confusion dots your features as a sad smile paints his soft lips.

"I am not sure she would- That we would be an ideal fit." Kirishima admits, turning you gracefully, pulling you close to his body. Scandalous some would say had the two of you been an inch closer.

"Well my Lord, I believe, had you actually talked to her while the two of you danced, as I suggested, then you would come to find out that she is lovely. Pure hearted as she is honest in this game seeking love. Most women here are making attempts to move up in position, my Lord. As a Duke's first son the title of Grace is yours to master. She is a delight and air is not the only thing between her ears as some of these…"You survey the room as everyone watches with greedy eyes, "Vultures."

He laughs never used to your own unwavering honesty. He knows you are not participating by your own free will, he knows because you are helping himself and his cousin when he was sure you could have had anyone in this room.

If the Majesty's nephew, Prince of the Yarrow were to attend even one ball this season, Kirishima was sure you would have his attention too.

He twirls your body away from his and brings you back to the safety of his sturdy form. Your eyes are molten determination as you all but hiss

"Ask her to dance next. You know the host prefers the set to be serious, flirtatious, and then a slow dance. It will be the perfect time to talk."

Lord Kirishima sighs, squeezing your hand as he guides the two of you closer to your mother so he can leave you in her company.

"You could turn any dull man into something more. Whoever wins your hand is getting a precious gem indeed." He kisses your hand as the music begins to change into something slower as you had predicted.

"One shall only hope." You curtsy as he takes his flushed neck towards a certain Countess. Your mother gives you a knowing look and you offer her a cat smirk. She shakes her head but even she cannot hide her own satisfied smile.

A blonde male approaches, as he does every third ball after he ensures your first two dances have been taken. The flamboyant male has not once asked for a dance first, trying to be just as calculating as you. Although he is much more obvious.

You suppose it was not half bad for a male.

"My lady." He bends lower than he should for his station in life, but he is obviously copying the cousins before him having seen how it makes you smile.

Lavender eyes shine up at you as the Viscount brings his lips to your gloved hand. You debate if you should say yes tonight. Having left him in the dark as your desire to dance with him solely depended on your mood.

"May I show the room the grace in which steals the breath from my lungs?" Your eyes smirk as your lips form a small smile. It seems flattery would earn him a dance tonight.

"You may."

The Viscount smiles with delight as he gently takes you to the dance floor, holding you to him as he takes you across the hardwood. The candle lights play along your features as Monoma's face grows soft. Had he been anyone else his gaze might have brought a flush about you. The two of you shared a few dances before, he has sat in your parlor in the time he has attempted to court you and the flowers he sends are always the most expensive.

He has even brought you chocolate from a month's long trip. Even you had to admit that was thoughtful, not too many people knew of your Achilles heel. A small part of you thought that if no one else would do, at least this man would bring you luxurious chocolates.

"No trips this season?" You smile politely, he blinks as he seems to come to.

"Only if I can take you with me." He smiles, a hint. You pretend yourself modest and look away to fight the roll of your eyes.

Maybe chocolate would not be enough to sate you.

His eyes flicker to your mother as a question forms on his lips.

"Neither your brothers nor the Baron attended tonight?"

"Ah unfortunately no. My mother is my chaperone tonight." You say tilting your head, he turns so you can face her, stepping slowly as the song lulls on.

"I am elated she is well enough to attend." He smiles, you cannot tell if it reaches his eyes so instead you offer

"As am I."

The rest of the night is filled with rejection tumbling from your rouged lips as champagne flutes seem to find their way into your hand.

"Not too much of that dear or you will not be able to enjoy the company of your suitors."

"Truly a pity." You say taking another from a passing waiter. Eyes trained on Lord Iida and the lovely dancer in his hands, a blue dress sweeping across the floor and a white carnation nestled in her hair.

A beautiful touch and it pays homage to their first dance before they were even wed.

The love that embraced the couple could turn anyone in the room green with envy.

You down your flute as you reach for another.

Night brightens into morning much too soon as curtains are ripped open in your room.

"My lady callers will be here soon." Rose, your handmaiden says softly, "I have a bath waiting for you."

You groan in response having not had enough sleep after pouring over your drafts for your book until your candle snuffed itself out.

"Turn them all away Rose." You growl turning away from the irritating light, could it not have rained this morning to delay the suitors as it always did in this forsaken town?

"She will do no such thing." Your mother says as she walks into your room with her cane, her hand gripping onto the golden beak of a bird.

"Mother, why not marry off Hendrix or Hideki?"

"Hendrix must apprentice under your Father for a period of time while Hideki can do as he pleases for now. He is only 20, besides he makes an excellent chaperone does he not? He isn't too nosy nor does he neglect his duties to intimidate pushy men." She pushes some of your hair back as she sighs, "Although I doubt you need help in that manor."

"I deserve a strong bloodline, so I will do what I must to ensure that. Even if my face has to be scary at times." You and your mother share a laugh before she adds.

"Your face is far from scary my dear." She touches your cheek softly rising from the bed to allow you to get ready, "The suitors shall arrive within the hour. Make haste."

"Yes mother." You half groan rising to wash. Enjoying the warm water that Rose has so kindly added aromatic flora and citrus to. Once you enter your bedroom Rose has a dress picked out for you, waiting for your final approval. You nod allowing Rose to assist you with your corset and strings of your dress before you pick out jewelry to match your silver finery. You choose a silver bracelet with little diamonds as stars that Lord Bakugou had given you for your birthday this past year, smiling down at the small thing before assessing yourself in the mirror.

"What do you think Rose, should I add some rouge to my lips?" She gives you a smile of delight.

"And your cheeks too, my Lady."

Breakfast is served in the parlor as it consists mostly of fruits and finger pastries that will be served to the other guests. Hideki comes down in a fine and deep sapphire suit.

“Sister.” He gives a smirk to which you nod.

“Brother.”

“And what trouble will you get into today?” He stage whispers, causing you to cut him a glare as your father comes around to loom in the arch way of the parlor.

“Remember, you need to pick a husband this season or I will pick for you. It is disgraceful to have gone through two seasons at your age.”

“I am only twenty four, dearest Father..”

“That just proves my point. You have a month before I extend an offer to the Duke's-.” He takes in a sharp breath to chide you further only for his Grace to swoop in and save the day.

“Baron.” Bakugou says, his eyes challenging as your father bows his head. As Bakugou makes his way towards the delicate foods. Father cuts you a knowing glare. As if to say I know your games child.

You offer a sweet smile as you make your way towards your small writing desk, fighting off the urge to groan outwardly. You just wanted to work on your manuscript or read for that matter. Instead you would have to entertain men who cared not what you thought only what your pretty mouth would not say. They would swarm you, demanding attention as you waved them off gently, half you had never even spoken too. Bakugou gives you a wicked smile from beside you as if he could read your thoughts. At least he always sat closest to you, saving you in a way although you never instructed him to sit close.

He just always had.

"Do you not want to play the piano today, my shining Gem?" Kirishima asks from the door.

"Ah I am not sure I am in the mood for it, my Lord."

"Easier to avoid people as the bench is only meant for one." Bakugou gives a devilish smirk, Kirishima almost pouts, his sullen expression does not go unnoticed by his cousin.

"It has been an eon since you last played for us." Bakugou adds.

"Am I to be your song bird today?" You cut a glare at him.

"Yes, Starlight I believe you are." It seems it had no effect. Sighing you stand, collecting your skirts as your wrist twinkles in the morning sun. Garnet eyes bore into the delicate wristlet. Your fingers pluck a key here or there until you begin to play. Losing yourself in the music as you sing ballads from ages ago, melding them into songs you've written until it all sounds like a cohesive piece. Each old song is lost in transition to the new one, time ticks on but you do not notice the string of men who come and go from your parlor. Resting your voice for the time being as your fingers fly across the keys to something you composed while thinking of your father and his ever pushing hand towards a Duke's son you had great distaste for. The notes are sharp, almost jarring at times yet still the piece is stunning. In that time you had not noticed the lavender eyed man who sat closest to you, right in front of the piano in the corner of the couch. The finger cramping song ends on a somber, harsh note.

"What a beautifully charged song." Monoma says breathlessly.

“Well I was thinking of my enemies when I composed it.” You smile at the sunshine blonde with a devilish grin, he feels unsettled by it but says nothing nonetheless. His lavender eyes glance over to the wolves at the back of your den. Hideki gives him a small nod, Kirishima a soft smile but Bakugou gives him a glare that feels like Monoma is gripping needles.

He swallows thickly, adjusting himself on the plushed silk of the couch before your small piano.

“Ah before I forget.” He smiles pulling out a box setting it atop the polished wood. Gifts were a natural part of courtship or so your mother said. You offer a smile, grabbing for the box with poised eagerness and yet not overly so.

Not that you were excited but you had to pretend to be. You unbox the obvious jewelry and fight back the distaste as you stare down at a gaudy, overly large necklace. The colors are a soft green and yellow, colors you avoid for many reasons.

“Thank you.” You think to add a chord or two to your unnamed song in honor of Monoma. Bakugou laughs loudly from the back of the room, feeling how much you hate the gift, you look over your shoulder to send him a glare that he can only smile at.

After hours of trepid and boring conversation Monoma takes his leave.

“Another evening my Lady.” He smiles softly and you return it half heartedly.

“Another evening.” Lavender looks over your shoulder before Monoma clears his throat

“Your Grace and your Grace.” He bows his head, the ash blonde and redhead nod in unison.

"Shall we go and drink my high friends?" Hideki asks, hoping for an excuse to leave the stuff house. He was more than over bearing witness to gag worthy stares and compliments some of these men gave you.

"An excellent idea!" Kirishima exclaims, standing before stopping by you. He takes your gloveless hand with a sharp, flirtatious smile.

"My shining gem." He presses his lips to your skin and you return his smile.

"My Lord." He nods and takes his leave, Hideki at his heels as Bakugou approaches. He does an exaggerated sigh unable to hide his smirk.

"Little songbird how will I ever get through the night without my Starlight?" He holds your hand, lowering his upper half as did his cousin before him.

"I suppose you will fumble in the dark."

"If only I had the pleasure." He purrs as he presses his lips to your bare skin. Suddenly his fingers are too warm as he holds your gaze, he looks as if he could devour you.

Lest he forget he is staring down a panther himself.

"Have fun fumbling in the dark by yourself, my Lord." You remove your hand and look out of the corner of your eye at him. He backs towards the door of the room.

"I should hope to have thoughts of Starlight." He calls before he disappears into the hall. You tap a key as your mind wanders before you rise, famished and ready for dinner before you would take a long night of writing.

A month passes by faster than you'd like and you find yourself outside of the ballroom in the grand hall of the castle. Soft music filters in through the doors as your Father insisted the family be a bit late this evening.

For he wanted to make a statement and one at your expense.

"If Duke Enji's son asks you for a dance you will oblige." Your father hisses, his large hand curling around your bicep. You bare your teeth, stepping out of his grip as you collect yourself.

"He has three." Acid drips from your tongue as sure as morning dew.

"The doctor. Not the failure first born and not the inadequate second. The third. Shoto. Think of your ailing mother...would you abandon her for such vile, pointless ambitions?"

"I think you will not weaponize her. So do as I please and decline." You hold his burning glare as you add, "If the Duke's family is as bad off as you make it seem."

"Oh I think you shall accept his dance. Or so help me God I will burn every book your ill, grief stricken mother ever shoved into your scrubby little hands." He leans closer, a nasty smile forming as his lips, "And if that is not enough I will throw your manuscript into the fire for fodder."

Your eyes blaze with a rage that ignites beneath your skin, burning your blood as your eyes make unspoken promises. When I am through with you

You part your lips to retort but your eye catches Hendrix and Hideki, their eyes filled with pity before your mother slowly approaches.

Father chose his battleground well, knowing you would be unable to react as you pleased and with Bakugou already at the party there was no other male to save you. You bite your tongue until you taste blood.

"Is everything alright?" Mother asks tentatively, fussing with your hair, "Darling you must mind your face, my love."

You swat her away, breathing through your nose as if you were a dragon. Heat still dancing in your veins as you allow your feet to move on their own.

"Announce me. Only me. And do not announce another soul until I am beyond the last step." You hiss to the harbinger whose eyes grow wide before he nods. His voice booms over the murmurers of the crowd and once eyes begin to land on you they are silenced.

Your eyes are set hard and as cold as stone as you look over the crowd, slowly descending the steps in your deep ombre gown. Starless night black from the bodice before it lightens gradually into a charcoal grey, glittering crystals sewn into the material shine in the candle light like miniature stars. Your gloves followed the same gradual pattern except it seemed as if each finger was dipped in glittering silver and atop your wrist was your favorite piece, diamonds winking in the low light set into silver pointed stars. Woven in your hair were diamonds and pale citrine alike forming a crown in its own nature.

Had Her Royal Highness not have already been announced and seated it would be easy to mistake you for the Crown. Considering how you commanded attention and held yourself, eyes looking at no one but seeing all.

The envy, the awe, the lust.

A pivotal moment was coming, the last three stairs is where a woman would normally hold out their hand, expecting their favorite suitor to take action but you did not hold out your hand. Keeping one firmly on the dark wood of the banister while the other was eloquently posed beside you. Even if you had held out your hand the men in the room were too stunned to step up to help you. This allowed a soft, devilish smile to form on your painted lips as they performed exactly as you had planned. Finally your gem encrusted slipper touched the hardwood, parting the crowd before the spell was broken by the announcement of the rest of your family. The room let out a collective breath and instantly erupted in hot gossip. All of it falling on deaf ears as you grabbed onto a flute of trusted champaign.

From across the room you felt burning garnet eyes on you, you met them briefly before sipping at your bubbly beverage. He begins to cross the sea of bodies when a large man steps into your view.

His eyes are cold as they bore into you, a shining sapphire paired with a smokey quartz. Distaste curdles your stomach as you fight to keep your face neutral and your eyes trained on him. Fans block painted lips as they spread more gossip about the man before you.

"Is she ensnaring another Duke's son?"

"She is becoming too haughty for a Baron's daughter."

"Do you think she insulted the Crown with her entrance?"

"Would you allow me your first dance?" His deep voice cuts through the vultures' cries pulling you back to him. He has your glittering left hand in his. Brining the dazzling glove to his lips in greeting, there is no joy in his gemstone gaze.

The hot rage bears its teeth again as it surges through your blood like liquid fire, burning so hot it felt cold as it licked at your bones. Your lip barely twitches, No poised on your tongue as your father's grating voice echoes in your head.

"Think of your ailing mother...would you abandon her for such vile, pointless ambitions?"

And so your mouth finally forms the words.

"You may." He looks surprised, surrounding faces mirror his own before he fully takes your hand. Guiding you to the floor during one of your favorite songs that you always sat out as no dance partner ever dared the secret, advanced steps. You were steeling yourself for disappointment

Shoto's grip on your body is tight but not uncomfortable as he sweeps you across the dance floor, twirling you, guiding you as he holds your gaze. His stare is heavy and intense in a different manner from Bakugou's with a hint of something that could be mistaken as flirtatious. But you saw it for what it was, discontent.

As the song pushed on the discontent seemed to change into something new entirely as he showcased your skill while hiding his own. Allowing you to twirl away from him in several rotations that would make even the most skillful dancer fearful of misstep and yet you breathed in the music as if it were precious air. Neither of you notice how the other dancers give you room, allowing for more twirls and advanced steps as the two of you are becoming lost to the music. His fingers brush your bare skin as he pulls you back to him for guided, sharp steps as the music heightens. His skin brushes yours again, electricity thrums beneath the pads of his fingers before he sends you into another dizzying rotation but to you it was nothing. Briefly you wonder if this were a test until you see the soft smile on his lips when you return to his arms safely for the final set of guided steps before the music were to abruptly end, just as the dance was intended. His eyes were glued to yours the entirety of the dance, softening with each step.

Both of you stop in beat with the last soaring note panting as the movement seems to catch up with the two of you. Neither of you realize how quiet the room is until clapping comes from the royal dais high above the room, the rest of the crowd follows suit. Shock melts into a smile as your eyes return to his. A sharp pain rings out in his chest.

"Not bad for a Baron's daughter." Disgust settles on your face faster than you can stop it spewing from your lips.

"Not bad for a recluse of a Duke's son." You tilt your head up, fighting the snarl of your lip as his face becomes so mind numbingly neutral while his eyes darken. Shoto drops you off by your mother only for Bakugou to approach, swiftly bringing you to the floor for a slow song.

"Starlight. How did I not know you could dance like that?" He is astonished by your skill, "I've never seen you so happy. Maybe the Duke of Winter's third son will do you justice yet."

You scoff but all Bakugou can do is offer you a deadly smile.

"Enough about my dead end dancing." Your eyes glance towards the dias, the Princess cannot look away from the two of you, "This should be enough for the Princess to want to dance soon."

It is Bakugou's turn to scoff.

"Are you sure she is even going to have the opportunity to dance? No one is even allowed on the stairs to their enclave."

"Ah but this is her debut. The Queen will allow it, besides the princess cannot keep her gaze off of a certain ash blonde."

"How could she ever?" Your laugh rings out, it warms even the coldest hearts as Bakugou pulls you closer to him. Heat radiates from his body in a calming manner, your fingers squeeze his.

"Arrogant as ever." You smile, thinking how you will miss dancing with him or even having him at the back of your parlor to laugh with over sad attempts at your hand, "Remember once you take her one dance for the night, she must be your first and last dance of the night in the future, if not your only."

Bakugou cannot hide the dejection in his eyes even as he feigns cockiness.

"I am a well versed student, remember?" His fingers brush over your skin, his middle finger tracing a small circle.

"The best student I could ask for." The music comes to a close on more than just the song as Bakugou returns you to your family. He presses a long kiss to your glittering glove.

"Until we meet again, my Starlight." He holds your stare.

"Until then my Grace." With that the night sets into motion as you turn down dances left and right. Eyeing a ruby haired man who twirls a certain countess in his hands. As the music ends the Queen stands earning a hushed crowd.

"My daughter, the Royal Princess shall take the dance floor, she will only allow one dance on the night of her debut." It is not a shock that she is allowed so little but there is no worry on Bakugou's face. The princess straightens at the top of the stairs, trying to exude the same commanding energy you did. She falls short in power but outshines you in other wordly innocence and grace. As if she were a lily that only bloomed for the moon, her beauty unmatched in her pale pink dress. Carefully she guides the layers of it down the steps as diamonds and pearls drip from her hair and throat. She tries to keep her eyes from sticking to a broad shouldered man and yet at the same time from wandering, as she stares at the back wall of the room.

As she nears the third step Bakugou struts towards his prize with the ease of a relaxed swagger, glaring at men as he passes before he reaches the bottom of the steps. Extending his hand to the Princess just as she hits the third step from the bottom. She cannot keep the smile off of her face as her gloved hand claps onto his bare fingers. He bows deeply, raising her hand above him to look from beneath long lashes before he brings his lips to the silk.

"Your Royal Highness, my shining diamond. You are truly the envy of the night." A flush gives the Princess' lack of experience away, "May I have this dance?"

"You may." It is a breathy answer before Bakugou sweeps her off of her feet. Charming her with each calculated step and arrogant quip. The princess smiles wide and almost pouts once the music begins to ebb. Bakugou returns her to the stairs, supporting her hand as long as he can before she rises out of reach.

But to Bakugou she never was and never will be unattainable.

Before the night is over an envelope is pressed into your hands with the Crown's seal pressed into the wax. You quirk your brow, tucking it away to be read at home.

"I am so elated you came." Her voice is like honey as the butler opens the doors to a parlor so large it could hold your entire home. She guides you towards a small table and fights with the layers of her silk dress before sitting.

"How could I reject a personal invitation from her majesty?" You sit across from her, eyes going over the deck of cards and a set of tea.

"Well, believe it or not, I do not have the pleasure of friends, so please call me Amila."

"Everyone would desire to be a friend of the Crown, your Royal Highness." You counter, quickly she points her fan towards you, tapping your side of the small ornate card table.

"Ah but you do not have the desire to befriend the Crown, so I have high hopes that you will befriend me for me." She smiles, a certain gleam to her eye before she says, "Now let's talk about handsome Bakugou and how well you played me."

Your face gives nothing away as you look up from the cards you've been dealt. Your mind rushes down all possible avenues but you know to avoid the one of playing dumb. It is obvious that the Princess has a keen eye.

"Surely you'll reveal to me what gave us away."

"After that dance Bakugou had with me, had I been anyone else he would have returned to you. He either has his only dance with you or his last dance with you. I figured him or Lord Kirishima to be heavily interested in you. You are a sparkling gem amongst the coal down there so I know you have many callers and suitors. But the last to leave are always Lord Bakugou and Lord Kirishima. That is what has thrown me off the scent." You laugh at her honesty of the knowledge she has obviously collected about you or was tactful enough to guess.

"This is what we do, your Royal Highness." Your gloved hand gestures to the table, "I take them for all that they are worth." An honest giggle leaves Amilia's lips.

"For that I am grateful and some would dare say I am in your debt."

"A brazen statement." Your eyes return to your cards, "I would not state it as a debt although I am happy to receive your gratitude. Especially since it is in the form of cards and cake."

A laugh falls from her lips as a smile settles on yours. The round of cards continues. You win the first few rounds and then Amelia has a lucky hand. Winning the last white tea macaron.

"Did you allow me to best you?"

"Lady Luck just happened to take favor of the Crown."

"Or maybe she took pity. " She smiles, fingers fidgeting nervously, "Would you care to admire the art? Mother allows me to have this as my own personal parlor so I decorate it as I wish."

"I would love to admire some of these lovely paintings. Starting with the one behind you." You stand, heading to the large piece you had been eyeing for some time during the games. You could tell by the stroke of the brush that the artist was newer to painting but they were quite talented, the strokes almost went unnoticed even by your sharp eye.

Most importantly were the emotions the work of art evoked from the viewer.

Silently the two of you drank in the large oil painting. The canvas colored in deep pinks, reds and oranges as the sun laid to rest to allow its lover the full scope of the sky. Shadows stretched far and towards the viewer and if one paid close attention they would notice the black cat in the corner with two large moon eyes.

You especially liked this painting, the ease it made you feel even earning a small smile.

"I can already tell this one is by far my favorite, your Royal Highness you have a fine eye for art." She blushes at your compliment, twisting some of her low hanging hair. You keep your amusement of her flustering to yourself, eyes trained on the swirling colors of the rippling blue mirror of the sky, looking for a signature.

Odd, there isn't a looping set of initials in the corner like most have. As if reading it on your face she speaks.

"I- I am the artist…" It is shy and soft, unlike the Princess and you realize the weight of the truth. That she had not heard one genuine compliment of anything that she had ever done.

All she would ever receive is flattery and only for the hopes of kindness from the Crown. Finally time swallows up her sudden meekness as she blurts out.

"Are you sure Lord Bakugou is not in love with you? I know you fancy Lord Todoroki, Doctor Shoto."

"I do not fancy the Doctor, he simply is the most logical option I have currently, he would make a fine partner and husband. The seasons have not brought anyone new and my days of spring are limited." You idly move to the next painting as you speak, "As far as Lord Bakugou, he and I are too much alike. Too ambitious for our own good, we'd either explode or implode I'm afraid. Like some tragic star in the vast galaxy."

"You would not marry for love?"

"It is best to marry for a strong partnership, love is a possible byproduct, however it proves to be a rarity. Love comes with time, your Royal Highness, a luxury us women do not have." You glance her way, "Not even a Princess is immune to this unfortunate condition from which all women suffer."

"But he looks at you with intense burning, with...love."

A quiet moment passes between the two of you before you offer your honesty.

"He would learn to look at you that way, more than he would see the Crown. Especially with your mind and artistic skill. He would be a fool not to fall for you." Her eyes water at your response, "Come, let me teach you how to best Bakugou at his favorite card game, Amelia."

When you return home later that afternoon Bakugou is fidgeting outside of the manor causing your brow to furrow. Then it dawns on you that one of your brother's has a big mouth and told his Grace where you would be.

"My Lord."

"Starlight." He offers you a strong arm and you take it as he guides you up the stairs and into the parlor just off the foyer.

"Are you here to gossip?" You trust Bakugou enough to go without a chaperone, besides the doors to the parlor are wide open. You sink into your writing chair as he takes his normal seat by your side. The plush cushions do not ease his twitching fingers before you give him a playful shove.

"Out with it then!" You giggle, the sound pulls a devilish smirk from the blonde seemingly easing whatever troubled his mind. He leans back into the cushions.

"So, how much did her Highness speak of me? Endless compliments no doubt." His teeth flash white as you roll your eyes.

"And here I thought you had a pressing matter." You move to turn away from him to focus on writing but he grabs onto your knee. Giving it a gentle squeeze as his face gives him away. The tips of his ears burn before he clears his throat.

"I have to show you something and I need your honest opinion." Silence is his answer as you patiently wait for him to produce the mystery item. Slowly he reaches into his pocket, a black velvet box is in his hands. A smile blooms on your lips as you anticipate the ring he must have picked for the princess. He opens the box and your heart free falls into your stomach.

It is a pear shaped black diamond flanked by silvery diamonds that wink in the afternoon sun. At the top of the circle of diamonds was a deep red garnet that looked like a drop of blood. The ring felt powerful if it could make one feel such a thing. You fist your skirts as you collect yourself. He watches your face contort as you look over the ring, his jaw ticking with worry as you assess what is essentially both his ego and pride.

But the ring is breathtaking, perfect really.

"Katsuki, it is a gorgeous ring…" Your voice trails as you admire it, "But I believe the princess to have less...moody tastes. She does not normally wear dark colors."

A small silence stretches between the two of you, almost as if he expects something else, quickly he snaps the box shut.

"This is why I ask you things, my stunning Starlight." He pulls out a red velvet box popping it open. This ring is beautiful as well but does not have your heart as much as the first.

It is a stunning and giant marquise cut white diamond. Blinding in the light with a halo of pale pink diamonds. It is vibrant, radiant like the princess. Katsuki always did pick out the perfect jewelry to match a woman's tastes. Bakugou watches your face carefully, the sad smile that pulls your lips upward causes a deep ache in his chest. His jaw ticks again but you answer before he can even think to lash out.

"Your Grace, this will surely win her heart." He looks you in your eyes, a flash of an emotion you cannot quite catch before his arrogance returns.

"Indeed it shall. We can discuss the best date to ask another time." He closes the box and tucks them both away, he grabs your left hand, fingers ghosting over the bracelet he gave you, "You seem tired, you should get some rest."

"I believe that to be a grand idea." You say softly as he kisses each knuckle. He squeezes your fingers.

"My life would be dark without you my Starlight." You fight to keep the bitterness out of your voice as you reply.

"Soon you will have a shining diamond to light up your life."

"Only thanks to you." With that he takes his leave.

With burning eyes you add to your manuscript, foolishly writing a love story as your other novels have been completed. The candle dwindles as the hours pass before your hunched shoulders ache from the poor posture and lack of movement. You stretch, yawning as you do before you decide to head to bed.

Expecting an empty foyer you are surprised to see your father looming in the hall, your mother standing solemn by his side. Her fingers clutch at her pearls as your eyes catch sight of bags at their feet. It is not unusual for them to leave in the middle of the night in order to keep the severity of your mother's health from the limelight.

"Is there troubling news?" Anxiety twitches in your fingers as you clasp them together. Although your father's next words make your fingers want to wrap around his thick neck.

"We have been invited for an extended stay at Duke Enji's manner in the countryside in hopes the two of you will court one another."

"Father that is scandalous in itself."

"Not if an engagement comes of it. Which one will, whether you fall for him or not, young lady. The matter has been decided among the men." His words sting like a slap in the face. Where most would cry you lash out.

"Oh, I get it. Per usual the men can think with nothing more than what hangs between their legs, fearful that theirs is not long enough. So the men do all that they can to control everything but their own fragility." You step towards your father and he takes a step back, "Or is it more gruesome than that? One blackmailing the other? I just cannot imagine the ambitious Duke wanting a Baron's daughter for his son. Unless his family is so far in decline he must place the weight on his new heir and bride."

His eyes widen unnaturally before he is frothing at the mouth.

"YOU WILL NOT SPEAK OUT OF TURN. YOU WILL LEARN YOUR DAMN PLACE. " He slaps you, causing a hush to fall over your family. Your eyes are wide with animalistic rage as you lunge only for Hendrix and Hideki to hold you back. Both strong men begin dragging you away.

"Forgive her, Father." Hendrix starts before Hideki finishes, "You know how the heat gives women a touch of hysteria."

"We will help her pack her bags."

All the while your mother looks at her husband in horror. The sight falls beneath the stairs before you are shoved onto your bed.

"Sister!" Hendrix roars while the youngest brother looks flustered, worried, "What were you thinking? You know how closed minded father is."

Hideki cuts the eldest a look before he adds.

"We are just worried. Normally you keep your wrath at bay."

"As much as it may come as a surprise. I am only human." You rise from the bed asking Rose to prepare you a trunk. To pack anything, that you did not care as you sat at your desk furiously writing. Your bothers watch you with curious eyes as the tension seems to subside before they take their leave.

Minutes tick by before you're standing in the foyer. Father and mother were already sitting in the carriage that waited outside under the cover of misty rain. Hendrix and Hideki stand awkwardly by the round table in the middle of the foyer. Pretending to fuss over lavish flowers Lord Bakugou had sent that morning. A beautiful arrangement of roses and hydrangeas, two of your favorites, the Lord knew of them through observation alone. You wait patiently until one brother makes eye contact with you. Hideki breaks first, guilt shining in his eyes as it threatens to spill over. It is obvious he does not want you to leave the house, his normally crooked smile falters. You cup his cheek, smiling up at your sentimental younger brother, he acts as if you will never come back.

Maybe there is some truth in that.

"Cry not, for I have an iron will while father's is but made of glass." You swipe the tear, before pressing two letters into his chest, "Besides I have an important task for you."

"Is it your scheming?" Hendrix chides and you laugh in answer before continuing.

"These are for Lord Bakugou and Lord Kirishima, it is imperative you deliver these letters." The paper contained important instructions for not only a successful proposal but a marriage as well.

You'd be damned if all three of you would turn out miserable.

"I'll put them in the post."

"No hand deliver them." Your eyes turn icy causing both brothers to go rigid, "And should I find out the seal has been broken before their arrival I shall take the family jewels from between your legs."

"Is that any way for a lady to talk, my dearest sister?" A jest in an attempt to lighten your souring mood.

"Yes, it is."

"They will be in their hands by this evening. We are wagering on a fight tonight. Enjoy your stay." Hideki leans in close with a tease but his voice almost cracks, "Make sure the rock is huge."

"Indeed." Hendrix agrees with an almost sad look in his eye, leaving you to wonder what it is that they know and you do not.

Well, you do know why they have such long faces, you just do not care to admit. You wave to them and their eyes catch on the silvery reflection of diamonds on your wrist.

The manner is stifling to say the least. The large, grand thing is as your trunk is set in your room that overlooks a small garden and the long sweeping hill that leads home. You pace your room before a knock comes at your door.

Hoping to ignore it, having not the desire to speak to a soul, your feet quiet. You listen for them to retreat but instead a louder knock sounds out. Before his grating voice floats from beneath the door and through the keyhole.

"I know you are in there, my lady."

Ugh, that stupid doctor stood on the other side of the door. Still you ignore him.

"It is rude to ignore your host." It ignites something in your stomach before you rip the door open. Eyes ablaze as Todoroki stands perfectly still in his onyx black suit sans jacket. White sleeves rolled up showcasing his strong forearms.

"Surely, a good host would not force his guests to his estate?"

"A good host would not mention how unwanted their guest is." His smile is sickeningly polite, eyes as cold as yours. It is hard to keep your composure as you breathe in deeply through your nose, eyes widening before you slam the door in his face.

Only once you hear his footfalls retreat and the moon shines long on your floor boards do you finally make your way towards the door. A woman on a mission as you yank the door open, uncaring that you were not in much but a thick white nightgown that could be mistaken for a dress. You rush for the stairs and through the door just off their back parlor, having memorized it from the long winded tour both your father and his Grace Enji insisted the small party take of the grounds.

A cool summer breeze whips your hair this way and that as it dries the sweat that sits at your nape. Normally people would describe this feeling as miserable, that even the breeze had a bit of heat to it, but you.

You lived for it. Twirling in the moonlight you allow yourself a moment for vulnerability you often cannot afford before you go deeper on the grounds, closer to the woods that lie just beyond the manor.

Once you are at the edge you give the grand home a glare with your back towards the woods. The creatures of the night sing their symphonies well into the late hour. A twig snaps behind you cause you to turn about face, your eyes meet with lavender framed beneath light lashes.

Ice runs through your blood as you faintly recall him speaking of these trees by his own countryside manor. He often went to these grounds to hunt.

So why was he standing on the Todoroki grounds?

"So it is true?" Monoma chokes out an ugly sound. It is between defeat and a snarl. He takes a step closer, "Whisked away in the night. Did Todoroki steal your maiden head from me?"

Your eyes widen at his scandalous accusation and it is then you see how truly disheveled he is. Hair plastered to his forehead, his canary suit stained green from foliage. The fabric even darkening beneath his armpits and at his collar, it sends a sort of frantic look to his eye. He steps forward and for once in your life you yield, stepping back.

"That is a damning accusation." You fight to keep the cracking rage from your voice, the small fear that blooms in your belly like poison nightshade. Swallowing thickly he steps forward.

"He, he can't take what's mine. I- I was going to propose today. But that damn Bakugou is always lingering around like toxic gas. Poisoning your mind with his….ambitions." It is then you see red.

How dare anyone thing you were so fucking fragile and innocent some young blonde could corrupt you. Your palm strikes his cheek with enough force that he is facing away from you. You strike again and then as you rear up your fist he pulls you to him. Pressing his whisky soaked lips to yours as he swallows you whole. Mouth extended over your lips, sloppily engulfing you as he makes sounds that make you want to retch. His tongue slides past your lips and you bite.

Not enough that he loses it, although you wish you could afford to do such a thing. But you still lived in a society where a man's word was far more valuable than that of a "whore." Shaking you pull back, so much rage that you do not see the flash of light until it is too late.

"Fucking bitch!" He slashes at your nightgown, cutting the fabric away as you think you've doged, he goes to slash again, "God damn whore!"

His voice echoes through the trees and that scares you more than the knife in his hand, his sloppy demnor creates an opening as you kick him so hard between his legs he falls to the ground, puking up his belly full of liquor onto the moss floor.

Suddenly the summer night is too hot, the frogs and crickets too loud as an owl calls deep within the wood. Thunder roars overhead before the clouds become too heavy. Panic slicks your skin before the pounding rain as you turn to run, hopping you kicked hard enough to rupture something in this cowardly man.

If you lived in any other world, you would have tried your best to seize that knife and plunge it into his chest.

But you didn't, so you ran. Vision blurring as the pain finally catches up to you. Hand instinctively flying to your stomach only to come up wet.

"It's the rain, it's just the rain." You gasp out rushing into the house and shutting the glass paned door as quickly and quietly as you can. Fumbling for a lock before you give up all together, arms outstretched in the dim room looking for a candle or a mirror. Shaking fingers find a match that you light using the wallpaper, uncaring of the risks as you frantically look for a stick of wax. Lighting the wick once you've found one and taking it to the mirror above a small runner table. You set the wax down, close to the glass, thunder shakes the windows and the house as you pull the fabric from your torso. It reveals an angry red slash that weeps crimson, a choked gasp leaves your lips as lightning flashes illuminating the whole room. Still you do not see the reflection of the man in the mirror.

"What happened?" It sounds animalistic as it comes from the corner. Your whirl to face him, pulling the cloth back down to cover your decency. A lie falls from your lips as easy as breath.

"Nothing." Your rasp, feigning embarrassment, "My-my courses have come early. Your Grace this is not something you should witness."

"Do you take me for a fool?" He steps closer, eyes burning in the candle light, "I may not be an expert of female anatomy but I know the basics."

You swallow thickly, trying to jest.

"Then my Lord you are far more experienced than myself. I am bashful to be in the presence of a skilled womanizer. This truly is nothing." He closes the distance, wrapping his deadly hand around your small wrist. Pulling it away from your body.

"That laceration does not look like 'nothing'." He mocks, "I will not ask again."

Silence engulfs you as the storm rages on, it competes with the roaring in your head. Your knees slowly buckle as Shoto keeps you up right. His winter's night by the hearth scent floods your senses.

"I feel a bit faint." Your voice sounds so small, so far away that it stirs something in Todoroki. In the year that he has watched you, he has not once seen your falter or become meek. He makes way to scoop you into your arms and is a mixed of relieved and agitated as you swat him away.

"I-I can walk." You straighten your back, smoothing the reddening fabric over your bodess and for once you're thankful the blasted nightgown is so thick. He gently guides you to your room.

Once there he prepares a basin as you try to sit on the plush bed.

"Aht!" He whispers harshly, "Change."

You relax into the foot of the bed anyway, unable to hold yourself up right any longer. He sucks his teeth, bringing the supplies to the bedside table before searching through your trunk.

"A Lady's things should not just be rummaged through."

"Hmm is that so?" He finds another night gown before he hovers over you, face pinched as he asks, "Can you undress yourself, truthfully?"

Moments pass before you admit that you are not sure that you can with a shake of your head. Slowly he eases you out of the damp fabric, dabbing at your wet skin with a towel. He avoids looking at your breasts and as much as he would love to stare a weeping wound commands his attention. He places the gown just enough to hide your breasts before he lies you down on your back.

"From beginning to end, tell me what happened." When you do not answer he forces your chin to face him, "Tell me, now."

And your name slips off his lips like poisoned honey, a truth serum you swallow whole. You retell the quick exchange, including the damning kiss as you watch rage blister across Shoto's handsome features as he silently begins to work.

"We must prosecute him."

"We must not!" You exclaim as he dabs antiseptic at your wound. He gives your an exasperated

"What would have happened if he had nicked an internal organ?"

"I suppose I would be free of this wretched world." A nonchalant shrug as best as you can manage.a glare cuts your way as his roar turns soft.

"Why would you say such a thing? Do you think no one would mourn the loss of you? Do you think he would not weep at your service?" Shoto touches the bracelet of dancing stars and you pull your wrist back. Tears burning your eyes, you do not allow them to fall.

"He is not up for discussion!" It's a loud whisper before you grip Shoto's jaw with enough force it grinds, "I am more than capable of taking care of myself, Lord. You can take your leave as I do not need a soul."

He melts as he watches the pain flutter in your eyes, a long sigh escapes him as he melts into your touch. His fingers feathering over your forearm.

"Pride is a deadly sin. Allow me to help. I will be quick." Slowly you drop your arm away from him. He digs around in his bag before you change your mind. He disinfects the sutures before he sends the needle through tender flesh, your tears dry as you allow your mind to retreat. Shoto takes quick notice.

"You do that a lot…" He comments softly, pulling the suture through your skin, you glance his way, "You seem to disassociate."

"Well, feelings hurt so it is better to not feel at all." You grind your teeth as he pulls the widest part of your wound together.

"Is that why you push him away so often?" He holds your gaze before returning to his work.

"Did I not tell you that he is not up for discussion. No matter, I do not have feelings for Lord Bakugou." He scoffs at your lie.

"Ah so then it was not you who suggested the Princess in the form of flattery? Lord Bakugou is a smart man but you played into his blind spot, stroking his ego and enticing his ambition." Your gritted teeth say it all.

"And how pray tell would you even guess at such grandor things when you are not in attendance at even half of these events?"

"I am privy to this knowledge because I too keep everyone and everything at arm's length. It is much easier to see the moves when one is far enough away from the board." He dabs at your abdomen, "And you my Lady are by far the best player."

"Flattery does not go far with me." You sigh softly, fingers idly playing with the wrinkles in the sheets, "Father wants me to set a final round."

"Mine wishes for me to begin and end in the same turn." He slowly places your nightgown down, "Which is why we should make an effort to at least get to know one another. With your wound I suggest staying an extra week or two to ensure it closes properly. I can convince our Wardens that the extension is for an attempt to win your hand."

He leans back in his chair, sweat on his brow from fusing with your wound, from worry as it furrows. Your chest tightens and suddenly the urge to be in control sinks its teeth into your skin. Quickly you unclasp the birthday present Lord Katsuki had given you, setting it on the nightstand beside Shoto with dramatic flare. His eyes widen as he reads between the lines, the silent vow of "I will make an effort...for now". The promise seems to pierce his heart.

"Fine. I enjoy picnics, I suggest we do that on the grounds so that we may be chaperoned from afar and yet have privacy. My expectation is unbashful honesty from both parties." You turn over to give him your back as you pull the fine blankets to your shoulders, "Furthermore you must come up with some sort of endearment for me. Anyone who has ever tried to seriously court me has. I have come quite fond of them as titles bore me. Something lovely so give it thought."

Shoto is stunned into silence for a moment before he lets out a dark laugh.

"I see, this is still your game"

"Precisely." You say, he stands, lingering in the doorway before shutting the heavy oak.

It was difficult to sleep to say the least. Still you were grateful to have risen before Rose. Dressing yourself before she could see your wound. More grateful still when Rose set down some tea claiming Lord Shoto sent it.

You downed the scalding liquid in three swallows, surprising Rose, before she passes you a folded note.

Meet me in the back garden for lunch.

-Shoto

A muscle ticks in your jaw as pain blooms across your stomach as you stare at his lovely script.

Shoto hates to admit that the first thing he looks for is that bracelet on your wrist, when he does not see it he lets out his held breath. Drinking in your deep, sapphire dress. It sparkles as if covered in stardust, his heart clenches. He looks towards your stomach, worry etched on his features.

"How are your stitches? No corset right?" He asks, gently guiding you to the plush pillows on the ground. Maybe he should have asked the butler to bring out chairs instead.

"I feel naked without it." You admit, he sees a bit of nervousness you have normally schooled away.

"You look lovely." His eyes are gentle, lips formed in a soft, genuine smile. Your heart tried to skip a beat. It's the heat you tell yourself.

"Flattery will not get you far remember?"

"I'm only being honest, my sweet petunia." You give him a puzzled look, was this going to be his nickname for you? You were not a delicate thing.

"A flower?" You give him a look but his smile does not falter.

"Ah would you rather I say my dew kissed rose? My begonia?"

You both laugh at his last suggestion.

"My sunflower." Your heart stutters, you glance away for just a moment and he takes notice.

"Ah so you approve," He collects a strand of your hair between his fingertips, "Sunflower?"

Heat rushes your cheeks as you fight the smile on your lips. You lose as he kisses your hair. Maybe you could be a delicate thing.

"Did you know sunflowers can remediate soil? It is why they are planted after tobacco is harvested in hopes to use the fields once more." He is quiet as he waits for your admission.

"It is my favorite flower, it is in season now. Alas not one suitor has sent them. Roses and hydrangeas are my favorites too but nothing quite says summer like a sunflower." You sigh, looking over the manicured bushes and flowers in the garden.

"Is that your favorite season?" He is perceptive, you take a moment to breathe in the sweltering breeze with closed eyes. Humming your answer.

"Indeed." You kick off your shoes and place your feet into the grass, leaning back to allow your face in the sun. Not many women would be so open to sitting on only a blanket and with no umbrella or covering. And yet here you were soaking up the sun like a lazy cat. Heat rushes Shoto's cheeks as he realizes just how perfect his name for you is.

"Have you ever had intercourse with a woman?" You ask, eyes still closed as Shoto flushes further. His cheeks are as red as part of his hair.

"Sunflower." He gasps but you giggle.

"Unbashful honesty, remember?" He lets small silence stretch between the two of you before he answers.

"I have. My brother convinced me it was a good idea." His eyes look sad, it makes your gut clench as you look away for a moment. Question burning on your tongue.

"What if I were to say my maiden head was taken?"

"Who am I to judge after I have slept with another. Sadly I know some are stolen." He answers without hesitation.

"This is true. Mine is still intact, I am grateful Monoma had only stolen a kiss." You sigh.

"You'd never kissed anyone?" His tone is curious although his eyes are dark with anger for you.

"I tried to be a proper lady. More so because I do not like to touch people or feel their skin. Touching them makes them real, you know? And when someone is real they can have power over your heart." Shoto mulls over your words and realizes how much he relates. He places his hands near your fingers but does not touch them. You notice the gesture and scoff without the pretension you skillfully lace his fingers with his. Delighted to see the burning blush on his cheeks.

Maybe life with Shoto would not be half bad, if only he gave you more moments like this.

Moments like this last over the two weeks that drag into three. Days are spent beneath the summer sun with exchanged and often heated, intellectual debates. Both of you feeling mentally stimulated for the first time as each of you allowed a few walls to come down, pulling each other closer than arm's length. While a few hours of the night are spent beneath the moon. His gem stone eyes raking over your abdomen in worry but nothing more than his checking on your wound as he was ever the gentlemen.

On Monday of the second week Shoto has come fond of his summer sunflower, so much so he brings a large black box to the next picnic, tucked away in his pocket is a matching, much smaller box. He presents to you the medium sized box as you giggle in delight.

"My Lord, my shining Shoto. What could this be?" Your cheeks hurt from the width of your smile as he opens the box for you to see. Your face flutters into shock before joy returns as you hold out your wrist. Shoto takes the delicate golden bracelet that has several round onyx surrounded by citrine in the shape of petals. Sunflowers dance on your wrist as you twist it this way and that, unable to school your features into your normal distaste for guadry gifts from suitors. But this gift was far from gaudy, only one man before Shoto had earned this reaction. You bring your parasol to hide your face and his from the prying eyes of the manor as you gently press your lips to Shoto's cheeks.

"I love it." You admit. It gives him enough courage to commit to ask you on Friday, the bigger question.

Having you walk for "therapy" through the grounds, pointing over your shoulder to point out phantom ducks on the lake as he nervously sinks to one knee.

"Shoto, love I do not see-" You turn to face him and see his loving eyes, wavering smile and shaking fingers holding open the box that reveals a giant oval ruby surrounded by diamonds. He clears his throat.

"My sunflower," You fling your arms around him, making him fall off balance as you land on top of him. Peppering his face with uncharacteristic kisses as excitement, for once, rushes through your veins like a second blood. He laughs lifting you by your ribs, careful of your slowly closing wound as he spins you before setting you on your feet. He fumbles for the momentarily forgotten ring before he slips it onto your ring finger. He presses a kiss to your cheek, smiling warmly. It reaches his eyes in such a way your gut clenches.

And for a moment you forgot you were ever anyone's starlight.

For one returning to the manor seems almost dreadful and not because of waiting suitors but because you would be without your own. He insisted the two of you be seperate as your mother and his, prepared to arrange the wedding, as you demanded the ceremony to be small. Despite your desire for to keep the engagement quiet for just a week or so, your mother and father took it upon themselves to spread word back home before you could even arrive.

You exit the carriage as the house looks quiet, earning a soft smile. Your ring catches your eye and you remind yourself that this truly was the best possible outcome.

The foyer is covered in flowers, from congratulations to a giant trove of sunflowers on the center table.

You smile at the flowers Shoto must have sent this morning, they sit in a glass globe of a vase, their usually tall stems cut short. Their flower heads are large and vibrant even in the ambient candle light. You finger a petal as you reminisce over the past few weeks, your stomach hardly protesting as you stand on tip toe to look at them all. Relishing the moment of silence before you realize you are most likely home alone. Your brothers lost in some fighting match while your parents took their leave from the Todoroki manor to busy themselves with venues. You figured a change of clothes would do you nicely before you settled down over your much neglected work.

A black nightgown and almost sheer robe clung to your frame as you stepped down the grand staircase, smiling once more at the flowers before slipping into your parlor. Lighting only one other candle by the door before taking yours to your desk. With deft hands you pull out one of your manuscripts and tap along the top with a manicured nail. A sigh leaves your lips, you finger with your bracelet, with the ring on your finger before a fresh page is found on your desk. You write furiously.

About something as trivial as love.

Still the quil seems to move on its own as if enchanted as words dot the parchment in ink. Suddenly your work is disturbed by someone entering your parlor. You assume it is a brother who has come home, glancing up you see locks of ash blonde causing you to grip at your robe to close it tighter. The moment you realize it is just Bakugou your grip on the fabric loosens.

"I wasn't expecting you at this hour." Fear of needing a chaperone barely crosses your mind since it was Lord Bakugou who was your company. You relax into your seat as he crosses the room to sit in his normal seat, on the corner of the couch, closest to you. His posture is poor as he leans his forearms on thick thighs, garnet eyes cast downward, he grips at his own hands as his knuckles turn white. You wonder if he did not heed your letter.

"How did the proposal go with Princess Amelia?" Your voice sounds out over the silence of the room, still he remains quiet. It is unnerving how solemn and silent the normally wolfish man is. Something pulls at the strings of your heart. His eyes seem misty. He keeps them to the ground or so you think, as they rake over the ring on your finger, on the bracelet on your wrist. The onyx and citrine dance in the low light of your burning candle. Bakugou feels a sheen of sweat coat his hands, bile rising in his throat that he has to swallow down.

You think the worst, you think the Princess rejected him but that didn't make sense either. She was so obviously in love with the ambitious man, you heard while away that she even turned down a dance with a forgein prince.

"What's wrong, Katsuki?" The way your voice forms around his name, the way your eyes look with unbiased worry causes Katsuki's limbs to act on their own. In one swift motion he cups your face in his broad hands, bringing his lips to yours so softly. Once the plush of your lips touch his he cannot stop as his hunger for you comes to the forefront. He kisses you with a fervor unmatched as his lips move yours, his hand moves to the back of your neck. Tilting your head so he may deepen the kiss, tongue sliding over yours as the world falls from beneath your feet.

But as quickly as it fell it returns, pushing him away while turning to face away from him. You keep your head held high as he pants on the couch beside you. He grabs your thigh, desperate for touch, for anything but rejection.

"Starlight." His voice is deep, rough from what might be disuse as it cracks on the second syllable. A question runs rampid in your mind. How long had he felt like this?

"Please, my starlight." He squeezes your smooth thigh and you look towards him. Watch his force contort with pain, as if you held his beating heart in his hands and crushed it.

Really it is what he had done to you, as you look down at him with hot tears.

He is the first and only soul to see you cry in decades. It seemingly tears him about but he brought this among himself.

The kiss is answer enough as to why he is here.

It should not be this tempting to throw it all away.

"Get. Out." You seethe, fat droplets catching on your sheer robe, falling down your cheeks as if you were an actress going through a tragic scene. He does not move, does not breathe as he hopes your temper will cool.

Instead it heats.

"Get out, Get OUT. GET OUT GET OUT!!" More composure lost with each increase of volume before you completely lose it, "FUCKING GET OUT!"

He hardly moves and the ruckus calls alarm for your brothers who were home, who let Bakugou in at such a late hour. They come from the office across the hall in hurried steps, expecting to see an assailant, hoping that Bakugou could fight them off.

They silently determine what they see is far worse. Bakugou gripping at your thighs with this pleading look while your face is now firmly buried in your hands. A sob racks through your body setting your brothers ablaze.

Hendrix speaks first.

"What did you do?!" His eyes are flaming as he sets them on Bakugou, who ignores the two men. Hideki begins to close the distance and his eldest brother follows suit.

"What have you done to make my lovely sister cry?" Hideki's voice is full of hurt, disappointment and when they receive no answer they decide it is time to remove your true assailant.

Both grab at Bakugou, pulling him away from the couch as you wet your palms with years worth of tears.

Everything in your life, no matter how hard you tried to conduct it, was truly wrong wasn't it?

The fresh swirling ink on the pages answered you enough, the love story you did not know you needed with a protagonist with soft ash blonde hair.

"Please. Do not make me BEG!" He yells as your brothers' sad attempt at forcing him from the room topples furniture and the like.

Still you weep your self pity away.

His next words are deafening as your heart finally cleaves apart, the pieces falling to the floor before shattering like glass at your feet. He brandishes the black velvet box with the black diamond ring tucked inside as you finally look up to him.

"IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN YOU, STARLIGHT!"

#bakugou x reader #todoroki x reader #bnha historical au #bnha imagine #bnha x reader

1K notes · View notes

worminstuff · 4 years ago

Note

Can we get a blurb for tbott of Y/n meeting Bo and maybe a jealous techno👀👀

mmmm yes

Tbott blurb

sleepy bois x reader au

no warnings, tad angsty but meh

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“Tommy no!” Phil yelled as Tommy attempted to pull the table cloth from the table, with all the food and plates on it still.

It was a normal morning for the sleepy house, it was around 9am ish and everyone was starting to pile into the dining room for breakfast.

As a peppy Y/n entered followed by a grumpy looking Techno, Phil started placing fruit on the table for them.

“I’ve got some fun news once Wilbur wakes up!” Phil said, looking at Y/n in particular.

“News for me?” She questioned

“Sorta. More for Tommy actually.” He looked to Tommy who was already climbing up into the chair next to Y/n.

Once Tommy was up in the chair he looked to Y/n, his face serious. Y/n raised her eyebrows expectantly. Tommy didnt say anything, he only stared for a moment.

“Quit staring at her Tommy it’s weird.” Techno said, pointing a fork at tommy.

Just before Tommy could retaliate in some way, Wilbur pulled out a chair on the other side of the table and sat down.

Phil clasped his hands happily as he stood in the doorway, “Okay great! So...fun news for today! Sams coming over!”

“Tubbo?!” Tommy stood up in his chair quickly, his expression full of disbelief and excitement.

Phil nodded, “and, Bo! He’s gonna come today aswell.”

“Oh so I get to meet Bo! Sounds cool.” Y/n offered Phil a smile which he returned instantly.

Techno stared at his plate. Bo was really cool. So it would be cool to have him and Y/n meet. Right?

He told Bo all about her anyways..and he said he would love to meet her..

Techno looked to his best friend who was talking to a overly excited tommy about seeing tubbo today. Yeah, everything would be just fine.

“They’ll be here in a bit so eat a fast breakfast, yeah?” Phil said as he turned to go back to the kitchen.

“Shouldn’t ev’ said that.” Wilbur said taking a bite of his waffle.

He was referring to his littlest brother sat across from him shoveling waffle into his mouth at the speed of sound.

Y/n slowly reached a hand over and grasped his little hand that was holding a fork, she looked into his moony eyes that were staring up at her, “slow Tommy. You need to chew it. “

“I’m not giving him the heimlich.” Techno said as he took a bite of toast.

Y/n scoffed, Wilbur nodded with low brows as she scoffed, “do you even know how to do the heimlich?”

“Of course i do.” He said,

“Of course you do..” Y/n echoed.

The four of them continued their breakfast as normal and helped eachother clean the table once they were done.

With perfect timing, when Techno was wiping down the table the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” Y/n exclaimed excitedly.

Upon opening the door, she was immediately greeted with a hug to her legs. Tubbo was as excited as she was.

Y/n giggled and patted his head, “Hello Tubbo, and Sam!” She looked up at the older man who also leaned over to give her a hug.

“Hello y/n, it’s so good to see you!” He said with a comforting smile, he then turned to the boy slightly behind him.

“And this is Bo! You guys haven’t met just yet.” He gestured to Bo who waved.

Bo was tall. Very tall. Obviously he got it from his father..but it was still surprising. His hair was half white and half black, and he actually had two different colored eyes. One was a deep reddish brown, and the other was a foresty green. His smile was charming aswell.

Y/n offered Bo a kind smile and then showed them inside, Tubbo still clinging to her legs.

Tubbo let go of her as soon as he saw tommy tho, both of them dramatically running towards eachother to collide in a hug.

Phil shook his head with a laugh as he clapped a hand on sams shoulder as a greeting, “Well it’s awfully nice out today, how about we all go and sit out there?”

There was a chorus of agreements as everyone made there way to the backyard.

Tommy and Tubbo were quickly immersing themselves in some imaginary game they created, and Sam and Phil made there way to the small patio table off near the house.

The four teenagers stood a tad awkwardly trying to figure out where they should go silently.

“Treehouse?..” Y/n looked to Techno hesitantly.

He stared down at the girl beside him for a moment, “how about we sit under the tree. On the grass.” He pointed to the base of the tree.

Y/n nodded and the four of them made there way to where Techno had pointed, they situated themselves in a circle.

Techno sat next to Y/n with Bo on her other side, and Wilbur next to him and Techno.

“So Bo! You’re a junior right?” Y/n asked Bo, trying to start a conversation.

Bo smiled at her, “Senior actually.”

“Oh cool! So am I.” Wilbur grinned.

“You’re a junior right?” Bo asked Y/n and she nodded.

“Also I really like your hair! It’s super cool.” Y/n said to Bo, his smile was wide.

“Thank you! I like yours aswell.” He gave her a small nudge and she giggled.

Okay this was definitely not fine, Techno thought.

Techno was silently staring at the two as they..flirted a bit. He knew Y/n didn’t mean to flirt, he was sure she was pretty incapable of doing that if she tried, but he still hated it.

Wilbur stared at his little brother with a small knowing look, Texchno looked to him.

“What?” He asked, his voice low. Though he doubts Y/n would’ve heard with how entranced she was by Bo.

“You’re jealous. And it’s literally been like a minute!” Wilbur let out a small laugh.

Techno scoffed and turned his attention back to his girl.

“Wait really? That’s wild!” She laughed softly and Bo laughed along with her.

Techno missed whatever wild thing he’d mentioned and he was sort of glad he did. Techno placed his hand on Y/n’s softly grabbing it.

Wilburs eyes narrowed, but quickly he asked Bo, “So you’re a senior right, how’s your senior year going so far?”

As the two were suddenly talking about senioritis and college essays, Y/n looked at techno.

He stared down at her naively as he rubbed small circles into the back of her hand, acting like he had no idea why she was looking at him strangely.

“What’re you doing?” She asked.

He shrugged, pulling her hand onto his leg.

Her brows furrowed, but she left his hand in hers.

They stayed like this for a moment, Y/n listened to wilbur and Bo, but techno was still staring at their hands.

Just as Bo was about to ask Y/n if she had any colleges in mind, he noticed Technos hand on hers.

He grinned happily, “Oh! I didn’t know you guys were dating!”

“They’re not.” Wilbur said, a small smile on his lips.

Bo looked at them strangely as Techno glared at his brother.

“Oh. I just figured cause..my girlfriend and I actually do that exact thing, with the thumb and all.” He chuckled softly, Techno eyes grew slightly as Wilbur suddenly busted out laughing.

Techno mentally facepalmed as Y/n stared at all of them not understanding why wilbur was rolling on the ground laughing, or why Techno seemed surprised.

Bo had a girlfriend.

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jisungscaramel · 4 years ago

Text

dare | han

❀ genre; smut, a little fluff, best friends au ❀ pairing; han jisung x reader (fem) ❀ word count; 2k

[warnings] explicit sexual content, oral, unprotected sex (be safe y’all), (mild) edging, cockwarming, saucy truth or dare

The intangible friction between you and your best friend was undeniable, yet with conviction, you held this idea that it was all in your head, and instead of fleshing out the inkling of frustration you felt every time you’d hang out, you chose to ignore it.

You chose to ignore the way he’d press his palms into the small of your back when he’d pull you close, the way he’d keep your body tight on his when he’d hug you, the way you’d catch his curious stares, the way his eyes seemed to send endless subliminal messages.

You chose to ignore the way the butterflies would flutter in your chest whenever that physical contact was made, the desire that would pool in the pit of your stomach whenever your wordless gazes collided.

You chose to ignore it.

Until today.

Honestly, you couldn’t say if he was on the same wavelength as you but as soon as he said these words on what you perceived to be a usual Netflix date (hold the chill), you were definitely suspicious: “Let’s play truth or dare.”

You knocked him on the head. “Han Jisung, you know there’s only two of us here… right?”

He blinked at you innocently and rather cutely, as if he couldn’t see the correlation between your questions. “Yes… you’re point?”

You clicked your tongue, sinking back into the worn in leather couch with your arms crossed. “Have you ever played truth or dare with just one other person? I sure as fuck haven’t.”

He rolled his eyes in an exaggeratedly exasperated manner. “No, but I don’t recall there ever being a rule saying you can’t.”

“But,” you turned to him to put on your best puppy dog face… which was mediocre at best but a valiant attempt, “don’t you wanna watch Avatar? We’re almost done with Book 2.”

“We watched it already… 4 times actually… in the past month.”

“Yes… your point?” you wrinkled your nose, repeating his previous words.

“Let’s do something different for a change.”

You turn the television off. “Ok fine,” drawing out the latter word as if it were stuck on your tongue.

Next thing you knew, he was constricting your body with his limbs, happily rubbing his cheek on yours like a child. “Yee!” and then all of sudden, he was sitting back, deadpan, folding his arms with determination. “Truth or dare?”

“Hmmm truth.”

And then that small child was back. “What? Why? That’s no fun!”

You shrugged. “You wanted to play truth or dare, remember? Emphasis on truth.”

“Fine, is it true that you hooked up with someone in the library?”

“Ji, I already told you that story.”

“I know, but it was so wild that I didn’t really believe you. Now you have to tell me the truth.”

“What makes you think I’d be any less truthful otherwise? And also, what makes you think that I’d absolutely tell you the truth now if I was possibly lying before?”

He widened his eyes and flared his nostrils in a rather comical manner. “If you can lie during truth or dare, you must be satan.”

You stared at him rather blankly, speaking quite frankly, “that… made no sense.”

His lips pressed into a firm line. “It does; you just won’t admit it.”

You snickered, rolling your eyes. “Whatever… truth or dare”

“Dare, I ain’t no bitch.”

You smacked his shoulder - playfully. “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

And he pouted, rubbing his shoulder. “Nothing… nothing at all.”

“I dare you to leave Felix a voice note confessing your love to him.”

He offered you a begrudging glare but he wordlessly unlocked his phone with no hesitation, opening his messages with his roommate. He lifted the end to his lips: “Oi Felix! I just wanted to let you know that I love you bro.” He smiled in satisfaction as he sent the note.

“That’s not what I meant!” you protested.

To which, he shrugged. “You didn’t specify what kind of love.”

Your hand made contact with your face in embarrassment. “Why are you like this?”

“Because you,” he placed his palms on his cheeks to squish them, “love me.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Ok, truth or dare?”

“...Just to make you happy: dare.”

“Hmmm,” he bit his lip in contemplation, “what should I get you to do?” he gripped his chin.

“Please don’t make me eat wasabi. I almost burned my nose off that one ti-”

“I dare you to kiss me… on the lips.”

When you met his eyes, you expected the usual teasing glint, but you saw none. He was dead serious, and you felt the saliva thicken in your throat, forcing you to swallow a little harder than normal.

As if your body was moving on its own, you leaned forward toward Jisung, resting your hands on his shoulders, distance lessening an inch by every passing moment. You were only planning on giving him a peck, but it just felt more natural to slightly part and purse your lips into a proper kiss. As your eyes fell shut, your heart began trembling in its confines, rattling your spine - you just hoped it wasn’t as obvious to him as it was to you.

His plush peach lips were as soft as you imagined - though you’d never admit you’d been imagining it in the first place. And for a moment, maybe two, you passed through the mix of emotional signals, focusing instead on the physical, the subliminal body language: how his hands found themselves on your hips, how his lips occasionally broke the rhythm to tug on your lower lip, how he’d let out the softest groans every time there was a change in pressure.

But then you removed yourself from your physical position, remembering the mental position you were in, biting your lips and looking away, biting your lips as if you wanted to say something, but your words clung to your throat - so you cleared it. “...truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Why did you want me to kiss you?”

His expression was serious - something you weren’t used to. He leaned back, folding his arms, lips parted, tongue smoothing over his teeth to graze the edge of his top lip. “Same reason why you couldn’t get your hands off me.”

You didn’t even have a moment to be dissatisfied with his answer. “Truth or dare?” there was a sultry tone to his voice, and although it was out of character for him, it was perfectly in line with the vibe he was giving in that moment.

“Dare.” The first time you’d chosen that, it was for no reason other than to spare yourself of Jisung’s complaints, but this time? Curiosity laced your tongue, wondering where he would take it next, if he would take it anywhere at all.

“Go down on me.”

You tugged on your lower lip with your teeth as a subtle smirk grew on your face. Of course, he would. You got down on the floor, kneeling in front of him.

You placed your palm over his crotch, feeling a stirring beneath the fabric of his jeans. “Are you gonna help me with this?” You prodded the top button with your index finger.

He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “You’re a big girl.”

Challenge accepted.

The finger on his button flicked it undone, but you took your time pulling the zipper down. You were in no rush.

But he was.

You could tell from the slightest gestures: the way his back kept sinking back in the couch, the way his fingers kept combing through his hair, the way he hissed under his breath, the way his hips rolled up - if you weren’t so close to him, you wouldn’t have noticed any of it.

When you finally took it upon yourself to free his personified frustration, you were taken aback, not because of his girth or the throbbing redness - although that was in the back of your mind. You were teetering on a metaphorical edge of your friendship. The kiss was one thing but now you were approaching the gate of no return. But you’d have plenty of time to worry about that later... and after the fact.

You let the lust shroud your head with its black clouds as you leaned in closer. You delicately ran the flat of your ring finger up his length while dragging your tongue down, eliciting an explicit gasp from him.

And he couldn’t help but squirm under you when you circled your tongue under the head, where he was the most sensitive.

Your lips secured around the tip, and you sunk them down as far as they could go, until they pressed firmly on his pelvis. The vulgar gurgling sound you inadvertently made while fighting your gag reflex only did more to stir his arousal.

“Fuck, since when were you this hot?”

You started bobbing your head up and down, cheeks hollowing as a result of the increased suction. Every now and then, you’d slow down to trace his prominent veins with your tongue, and when you’d pick up your pace again, grunts and groans continuously trickled down his lips.

You wanted to smirk. Your nostrils flared as the corners of your lips lifted up as much as they could in their limiting position. You had to take your hands away from his hip and the base of his dick to place them behind your back just to show off.

When Jisung’s sounds became gruffer and more primal, you had an inlinking of what was to come. So, you stopped, smacking your lips with a loud pop.

“Truth or dare?” Desire poured from your half-lidded eyes, lacing your voice in a tone that sent electricity through Jisung’s nerves.

“...Dare,” he whispered, still heavily breathing.

You stood up. “Take your pants off and don’t move for the next five minutes… no matter what.”

He peered up at you with suspicious eyes, but did as you asked. His suspicion turned into surprise as you pulled your leggings and panty off in one motion, setting the garments on the ground.

“What are you doing?” he asked in a strained voice as you straddled him, gripping the back of the couch for support, aligning your now-dripping heat over his erection.

“Making,” you started lowering yourself, taking him in, “things more,” all in, “interesting.”

He threw his head back, “Fuck.”

“Remember,” you tapped your phone on the other side of the couch to see the time, “no moving for five minutes.”

“You’re so evil.” He glared at you.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I thought you knew this already.”

“I didn’t-” his attempt to amend his statement was cut short when you attached your lips to his jaw, trailing kisses up its line, slowly, taking your time.

He held his breath when yours blew into his ear, heat searing his skin, and you could feel him twitch inside you.

“I’m gonna destroy you when my turn is up.”

You tapped his chin with your finger. “If you can manage to behave until then.”

“You think I can’t?”

“It’s not that I think you can’t… I just don’t think you can.” You waved your hips to increase the pressure between your connected skin, and you could tell he had to bite his tongue just to suppress a moan.

When your lips latched onto his neck, he gulped, staring at the clock at the other end of the room. He tried to fixate on the constant movement of the second hand, but his body had a different agenda, preferring to focus on how good your lips felt on his sensitive skin, how you alternated between sweet pecks and French kisses, hard sucking and soft nibbling.

He felt the heat radiating from his skin, sweat dripping down the back of his neck as a result of his attempt to hold himself back. He grit his teeth, frustration crippling his body; he was this close to caving, this close.

“Time.”

He bucked his hips up, gripping yours tightly. “Such a fucking tease.” But he still held back, keeping his pumping slow and steady. “Truth or dare?”

You crashed your body to match his tempo. “Truth.”

“Do you want it harder?”

“...Yes.”

><><><><><><><

A/N This one is also a reimagined version of a scenario I wrote for a different idol years ago

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tokoyamisstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Meant To Be - Loki x Fem! Reader

Summary: Much to your displeasure, your parents have promised you away to the God of Mischief of all people.

Tags: Arranged Marriage AU, Light Elf! Reader

Warnings: Aside from Loki hating himself, nothing.

Words: 2878

I Masterlist I

A/N: Some good old-fashioned, ‘redeemed after The Avengers and the other movies didn’t happen’ Loki. Like, really cheesy, self-indulgent 2012 stuff. I just want to ignore all misery that happens in the series okay?

“Ew! Stop it!”

You were eight at the time when you and Loki first met, by means of negotiation between both your parents.

If only you knew that this encounter should be the first impression of what should be your husband in the near future...

Frigga and Odin could only plead for their son to be on his best behavior - but well, it’s the God of Mischief we’re talking about. Must be hard to inherit such a title from your very birth.

Just when you put the little bonquet of flowers he had picked up for you towards your face to admire it, several little spiders emerged from the blossoms.

“You’re no fun.” The raven-haired boy stood a safe distance away from you, arms crossed as his gleeful laughter turned into a broad sulk. "And your ears are weird.”

“I hate you!” you screeched in your childish rage, throwing the flowers to the ground and trampling onto them. “Where’s your brother? Thor is way nicer than you!”

“Well, why don’t you marry him then?!” he mocked to cover up his hurt pride, picking up a handful of dirt and throwing it in your direction.

“I don’t need any friends anyway...” the little boy whispered to himself, running away from the scene with tears filling the corner of his eyes.

“I don’t need anyone. I’m way better than all of them!”

Not even Frigga was fast enough to catch up with him, while Odin uttered some fake apologies to your parents, promising them that everything will go as planned.

You on the other hand were running towards your mother, tightly grabbing onto her dress. “He’s mean! I wanna go home!”

As Queen of the Light Elves, your mother was a being full of grace and composure - and you were hoping to one day become such a formidable person as well.

She bowed down to your height, petting your hair as you rubbed the mixture of tears and dirt from your cheeks. Just her bright smile alone would sometimes be enough to make you forget about your worries - but not today.

“My sweet child” she cooed, cradling you in her arms. “One day you’ll understand.”

However, this would be the last time you paid Asgard a visit - at least until now. Because no matter how deeply you wished to never meet him again, the words your mother spoke on that day haunted you all those years:

“For this is your duty as a princess.”

[Present Day - Asgard]

It felt so unreal when you stuck your head outside of the wooden carriage, the wind playing with your hair as your glare wandered over the rainbow bridge you were crossing.

Silence strained the air, your parents unable to do even so much as look into your eyes. Hel, how you wished this was only a dream.

Behind you was a whole company of Light Elves, transporting all of your belongings to what should be your homecountry from now on.

Now there was no way back, that much was sure.

You were supposed to meet your soon-to-be husband on that very same day, one day before your wedding to be precize.

One could only guess why you weren’t allowed to visit Asgard again for all those years, even though you were practically born just for this reason - for this person.

To become Loki’s bride was your involuntary purpose, and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be truly free.

Maybe your parents thought the God of Mischief to have a bad influence on their growing daughter, pulling you into his harmless yet dishonorable schemes. Or they simply feared you to refuse marrying said man if you got to know him better, finding out just what kind of person you were promised to.

Not that your parents were pleased either...everyone in the Nine Realms knew the stories.

To Odin, there was no point in hiding the disgrace his adoptive son had brought over Asgard. Not only was he responsible for an attack on Midgard, sacrificing thousands of lives for his own sake, drunken by greed for power.

But all of you were shocked to hear that Loki Odinson - or rather Laufeyson - was never Asgardian to begin with.

A Frost Giant.

Among your kind, they were known to be one of the most terrible abominations in the nine realms, and murderer of countless of your kind - and this should be the father to your future children?

Only thinking about this cruel twist of fate made you want to vomit...

So why did you agree to proceed with the preparations as if nothing had happened? How in Alfheim’s name could you reject their offer to wed you to Thor instead of that lunatic?

Was it that through your upbringing and royal duties, you had lost your own free will? Or simply fear of stepping aside the path that everyone had prepared for you?

It was probably the fact that you didn’t want to get into true love’s way...you and Thor stayed in brief contact through Heimdall, and you just knew how much that human girl meant to him.

You were kinda jealous, though...the concept of being in love was foreign to you, having a vague idea of it from novels only. But real life just wasn’t meant to be that was, was it?

You couldn’t escape your fate, that was what it was - for this treaty would unite both kingdoms, bringing peace and wealth for all of their inhabitants.

No way you could be so selfish as to decline...even if it meant you had to suffer for the rest of your life.

“My Ladyship, we have arrived!” a guard spoke as he knocked on the carriage door, with your parents hinting that you needed to step out first.

The very same guard now yelled from the pit of his lungs, making you feel the whole Kingdom of Asgard could hear. “Now arriving: Lady Y/N Y/L/N, eldest Princess of Alfheim and heir to the throne.”

You heared the people whispering as you took your first, insecure steps, blinded by the bright daylight.

“She’s so pale, like ice” or “Why are her ears like that?” were rather nice comments compared to others plainly calling you ugly, scary or a ‘disgrace’.

Of course your Kingdoms had been in a war for several decades, but this was long in the past - before your very birth, even. So what’s the reason you should bear with such hostility in the place everyone expected you to call ‘home’ from now on?

One thing was clear from the very beginning: You would never belong here.

“May I?” a dark, husky voice interrupted your self-pitying. You blinked heavily, still trying to adjust to all those golden surroundings, until your blurry vision finally cleared up.

“C’mon.” The voice belonged to the man in front of you, looking gravely nervous with sweat dripping from his forehead. He was reaching out a hand for you to take, and you gladly accepted since you didn’t want to embarass yourself further by falling out of the carriage.

And still, you managed to somehow miss a step and fall right into his arms. “Oh my, so clumsy” the man snickered as he catched you, clearing his throat as you grabbed onto his chest to regain balance. "Not very graceful for someone of your status.”

“And you are-” The words got stuck in your throat when you stared back into those eyes, their emerald green awaking memories you’d rather forgotten entirely. “L-Loki!”

“Exactly, my dear. The one and only.” Smooth and calm, he pecked a kiss on the back of your hand, andyou couldn’t help but admire just how well he had aged: His wild locks were combed back, sharp features complimenting his face as he tried his best to give you his most innocent smile.

Yet you kept your guard up, always expecting him to somehow embarass you just for the fun of it. “When it comes to him, always expect the unexpected” Thor once warned you, and you won’t forget about it that easily.

“It’s a pleasure finally meeting you” was your firm declaration, only to be rewarded with a scoff. “You are speaking to the God of Lies, Lady Y/N - there is no use in trying to deceive me” he whispered into your ear, making you shiver in unpleasant anticipation.

“Carry her belongings to my rooms” he dismissed the servants with a simple gesture of his hand, offering his other arm for you to cling on as he escorted you through the palace.

The giant halls were almost empty, nothing like back on Alfheim where you and your brethren would enjoy each other’s company in midst of nature. A sole tear escaped your eye when you thought back to those carefree days, which are now over.

“Are you alright, m’lady?” Much to your surprise, your fiancé sounded honestly concerned about your well-being. “If you are tired, we can postpone our tour of the palace until you’ve rested.”

“May I speak from the heart?” You gulped after finishing that sentence, scaring yourself with all the stories you’ve heared about this mad troublemaker.

Somehow you had the feeling that if you were to overstep your boundaries with that brute, it would have consequences beyond your imagination. He might seem generous and polite right this moment, but what would someone like him do if you enrage him? Countless images were circling in your head, one worse than the other.

Loki furrowed his brows, exhalinge deeply. For him, your expression was an open book to what you were thinking right now.

“Y/N, my dear Lady, if you want it or not: Starting tomorrow, we share a bond. I am deeply sorry that a veritable flower as you are had to end up with someone like me, but I promise to treat you as well as possible.”

Turning around so you’d not detect how it hurt him to speak from the heart, he added with a shaky voice “Yet there is no reason for you to hold back your hatred for me. No harm will come your way, I swear upon the little honor I have left.”

Even though his words made you feel a deep sympathy with the god, you weren’t quite sure if you could decipher truth or deceit in them. Maybe he just wanted to lure you into saying what you truly thought of him?

He’s right - you will have to spend the rest of your life with him, so don’t mess this up from the very start!

“I-I don’t hate you!” was the first thing you blurted out, grabbing onto his cloak. Loki turned around, rising his eyebrow as he scanned your face for any hint of a lie.

Althrough it was the truth, at least to a certain extend. You’ve seen each other only once, when you were still little. The rest is all tales and rumours, but you personally don’t have a reason to despise him.

There was no way you could promise to accept his past or heritage, let alone forgive him - yet as long as he’d treat you with respect, you’d return the favour.

“T-There’s just a question on my mind this whole time...aren’t you mad? I-I mean someone like- well...like you...” you gestured around awkardly, almost making him crack a smile. “I mean...I thought you wouldn’t let your parents dictate your life.”

Another deep sigh escaping his mouth, this times with his eyes closed. “This isn’t about Asgard or my adoptive parents. I choose my own path.”

Suddenly, Loki wrapped one arm around you, flicking his fingers with the free one.

“Hold onto me” he ordered indifferent as he casted his spell, teleporting both of you away before you could even comprehend, let alone ask him what he was doing.

It happened in the fraction of a second, yet felt like hovering through an empty space for an eternity.

“Now open your eyes.” You hadn’t even realized that you squeezed them shut during the shift, slowly opening them while Loki lifted your chin with his index finger.

The environment was magnificent. Had you ever seen something this beautiful in your whole life?

Obviously you had no clue where you were, but this was the first time seeing so much untouched nature on Asgard. There were flowers blooming in all colours imagineable, clear rivers crossing the lands in between grassy hills, and animals nearby a small forrest.

“It’s not like I didn’t educate myself about the Light Elves and their way of living” Loki stammered, unconsciously intertwining your fingers with yours as he watched you admiring the view. “So I could make you comfortable here, I mean.”

He plummeted down on the grass, still a little wet from the morning dew, and gestured for you to do the same. It was weird, actually, but also somehow adorable - how the infamous ‘Silver Tongue’ had lost his ability with words. “I’ve done very little right in my life full of wrongs. Hurt a lot of people.”

“Mmmhh” you hummed approvingly, not knowing what else to say - yet for some reason, you didn’t let go off of his hand, squeezing it ever so slightly.

“And even though I can’t possibly redeem myself, I wish to change for the better.” he muttered, rubbing the back of his head. “I just never knew how to start.”

Loki Odinson really was full of surprises. He was nothing like the child you’ve met long ago, and the complete opposite of what you imagined the ‘God of Mischief’ to be.

You had expected a power-hungry, selfish and cruel man to wed you - and yet there he was: Insecure and broken, only a shell of the person he once was.

Just what had you missed all those years? What things happened to break someone’s will like this?

And was he truly beyond repair?

“Those past weeks, I have visited Alfheim more times than you could comprehend” he giggled nervously, avoiding your eyes. “Concealed, of course.”

Well, that sounded kind of weird, but you knew better than to talk someone down who was just opening up to you. So your sole answer was “What for?”

“There was no way a criminal like me would still be seemed fit for this ceremony - and yet I was given this chance anyway. My mother told me that it was you who insisted on carrying on the arrangement, so...I just wanted to know what person would be willingly ruin their life.”

Something different was shining through the god’s orbs, and you couldn’t quite decipher it. Was it hope? Hope, that if you had given him a chance, his life could lead into a different direction? To change himself from the burden that was his birth title?

“I-I guess I don’t want to mess this up like I always do” he whimpered barely audible, before staring at you in shock and embarassment. Until now, he hadn’t realized just how vulnerable he made himself.

Just what the hell would you think about him now? You probably had lost any respect, or thought himself to be crazy. How weak...

So he was quick to put on the confident facade again, wearing his smug grin as if that all was just part of a big joke only he’d understand. But even though you barely knew him, he couldn’t fool you.

“Sometimes it’s enough just to try.” Your head turned from the sight of nature to your fiancé and back several times, before you brought up the courage and put a hand on his shoulder, whispering “So you can’t really mess this up.”

“Gladly you don’t seem to know yet just how much misery I cause.” He kept that thought to himself, to not scare you away.

“I am aware that you could never love someone like me, Y/N. But I can provide for you, dedicate myself to making you content with being my wife. My newfound purpose.”

The purpose of a war criminal - that sure put yourself under a lot of pressure. And still, it made you somewhat proud, and grateful as well. Because it was the first time someone valued you as a person, and not the princess of Alfheim.

Unaware of how much time had passed, both of you would get used to each other’s presence in silence, enjoying the nature while you processed this eventful day.

Exhausted from the long travel and all that rollercoaster of emotion, you soon found yourself dazzling into sleep onto Loki’s shoulder. If only you could see him adore you, staring in awe that someone could actually feel so safe in his presence.

Carefully, the god picked you up, gently lifting you on his arms to make your way back to the palace, where everyone was frantically searching for both of you. Well, Loki was used to trouble - but right now, it was worth it.

May it be right or wrong, and even though you couldn’t explain this sentiment, you had a good feeling when it came to the things that were just about to come.

“You won’t regret your decision, Y/N Y/L/N. On my side, I assure you a bright future.”

#Loki #Loki x Reader #Loki x You #Loki Odinson #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Friggason #Loki/Reader #Loki/You #Self Insert #Fanfiction #Arranged Marriage #Writing #Marvel #Asgard

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