#and i like coming up w beta n then watching someone else use the same. nothing better than a team send

[phagodyke]

zzzzzz

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ HEARTBEAT

tw. pseudocest, noncon, possessiveness, grooming?, age gap, blood, murder, a lot of trauma bonding

wordcount. 6k

a/n. thank yoUUUU rhi for betaing you are my favorite as alwaysssss I love you soooo much ♡♡

okkotsu yuuta x fem!reader

Blood is splattered on the ground of the dirty alley, and there’s another heavy thump when his kick once again lands on the kid’s skull and he moans in pain. He calls him a kid in his head because he’s got that shit-faced little attitude, and now an ugly gap where his front teeth used to sit, but he should be old enough to know better. As a couple passes by the narrow street, he shields things from view a little, before using the long edge of his sheathed sword to push the dumb, bloody face to the side. Because his eyes are starting to look like two overripe tomatoes from the impact, he couches down before the sandy brunet.

“You know what this is about?” Yuuta’s voice is hoarse. He hadn’t really noticed it before, but it’s been a busy week cleaning up your messes. Don’t get him wrong, he doesn’t mind. If anything, it makes him feel sort of useful. You’re good and kind and don’t get into trouble on purpose — which is why he’s here late at night making sure things get handled. Niisan’s got it, after all. He doesn’t bother to clear his voice. “Hey.”

“Take my cash,” the young man below him now whistles through the missing teeth, teary eyes darting around as he pats his hand all over himself to look for a wallet.

Yuuta scoffs. “I don’t want your money. If I did, you think I’d waste my time beating your face in like you had it coming?” The anxious, almost nervous lilt to his own voice doesn’t escape him. If you could see him now, you’d probably say that he was enjoying this too much - and while he is, the idea of this getting back to you doesn’t escape his mind. It won’t though, logically speaking. The kid probably wouldn’t be able to see straight for a couple hours, and you will never find out. “I want to know why you’re hanging around Rika’s kid sister.”

“Kid? W- I don’t know any Rika!” He yelps when he tries to lift his head and gets the handle of the weapon hit hard onto the bridge of his nose again, adding more blood to the mess that’s running all over the bottom of his face. Yuuta really can’t see it, lifting his top lip in slight disgust. Handsome, where? Just as much as this boy isn’t really a kid anymore, neither are you. But you’re younger, and deserving of protection — is it really so bad he wants to imagine you as his baby sister for a bit longer before you start trying to escape from under his wings?

Not that you’re going to go anywhere.

“I don’t know a Rika,” the blond whines again now, hiding his face into his hands to drool and hiccup against the cold floor.

“Orimoto Rika, has a kid sister.” Yuuta bites back, patience running really thin.

“O-I- I kn- oh, we’re in the same uni prep class!” He gets up to close his eyes and focus all his attention on not just kicking against his skull until the answers fall out. He knows that, how else would he even know to ask? The head damage takes it a few seconds to make the guy continue, sniffling. “We’re friends- or- my friend knew her. I liked her so we hung out a few times.” Yuuta’s hand is cold around the worn handle.

He takes a slow breath, watches the cloud of air as he lets it out. The promise ring glints in the light of the street, and it’s all familiarity and instinct that makes him brush his thumb over it. “Were you serious with her? Or did you tell her whatever so you could fuck her? Hm? Did you fuck my little sister?” The brunet snivels and whines under him when his foot lands back right before his face, demanding attention.

“I won’t talk to her anymore, I swear! I swear I w-won’t even - it’ll be like I never existed. Please.” The pitiful whining he’s doing, groveling like a dog below him - sort of reminds him of a younger him. Someone who didn’t have a purpose yet, and was scared of everything for it. The heavy weight of the ring clings to his hand when he lifts it to unsheath the katana, seeming to wrap a comforting palm around his own. If he could, he'd tangle fingers with her.

“P-please, let me go home! I didn’t do- I wouldn’t touch your s-sister, I didn’t know.”

“I hate guys who aren’t serious with her.” He clicks his tongue, and has to spit out the nasty taste that this entire situation leaves on his tongue. The weight of the sword is barely an inconvenience when both hands wrap around the handle properly. He’s doing this for Rika and him. Always. “She deserves so much better.” A mean flash of possession crosses his thoughts - how no one except him will ever be good enough. But he pushes it back, because that has nothing to do with why he’s doing this. Nothing.

+

“Yuuta~” Her voice haunts when he closes his eyes.

He’s in the sandpit of the Children’s hospital, rocking back and forth softly on the edge of it as he waits. The sun makes the sand nice and toasty, it warms his feet when he plants them down. “Yuuta!” It’s instinctive, when he looks up at the familiar voice. Rika’s hair travels in a perfect arc behind her when she runs to make it catch the light like a halo. Pretty blue dress making the shine of her hair even brighter, cheeks rosy, and her eyes glittering diamonds when they find his and she crashes down next to him. Her scraped knee is proof that it’s too hard, but he can’t help but smile when her cheek touches his arm on the landing.

Something hits the floor with a loud thump.

Yuuta turns over his shoulder to watch. There’s a smaller child that’s chin down on the earth behind them two, thick crocodile tears threatening to spill when Rika gasps. “Rika neechan~ Wait.” You pout, straightening up quicker than you should to reach your hands out to her. The girl hurries over to dust your cheeks off and drag you along behind her. It’s such a nice day out, Yuuta’s sweater is just thick enough to make his entire body warm. He stares at your face a little too long, before glancing between you two.

You’re still rounder than she is, but it’s undeniably eerie. “Your sister?” He asks softly, and Rika grins wide. She gently maneuvers you by the hand to sit next to her, then pulls you into a hug.

Her lips are pretty pink when she licks them. “This is Yuuta. Say ‘hi Yuuta’.” You parrot your sister obediently, as she waves your hand around at him. “Me and Yuuta are going to get married. So you should be very nice to him, okay?” Her sweet cheeks are the exact same as yours, long lashes and big, knowing eyes that always have him staring. You just look absentmindedly at the grass when Rika holds you into her side, but nod.

He smiles softly when your big eyes find his again. And Rika giggles. “And she’s gonna be your sister one day, so you gotta protect her well. We’re gonna be one happy family, promise?” She extends her arm to hold out a pinky finger at him. “That’s what I want.”

+

His fingers are pressing indents into your arm. It’s unusual. Yuuta’s always gentle, he’s soft and cares, but today his hand is screwed almost protectively tight around your upper arm, and you can’t say that you hate the feeling. Maybe childishly, you want him to squeeze even harder - so you’ll have no reason to get out.

You don’t come here a lot. Not since the accident tore open the painful scarred memory of it, but even before then, it wasn’t exactly your favorite place. It’s at Yuuta’s gentle prompting that you even managed to dress, and now walk however slowly between the low stone walls. The rain taps impatiently on the umbrella above, as the older boy casts you a careful glance. Then slowly bends to sit on his ankles, and grabs your hand ever so softly, meeting your eyes. His hands, though big enough to dwarf yours now, are almost velvety when they clasp around yours. It feels like he’s exponentially grown, while you’ve stayed pretty much the same.

Partly the illness. Mostly the age.

“Think you can go on?” he softly asks, kind eyes sympathetically regarding you. Like he’s making a judgment call about whether to turn back after all - debating the long walk back to the hospital. “I’ll be right here with you.”

“You’ve already gone before, haven’t you?” Your voice sounds a bit accusatory, a bit pouty too. Can’t be helped. Yuuta could be a living saint and you’d still find it hard. He clearly doesn’t take it to heart, because he smiles. His one hand then moves up to ruffle your hair.

“It’s still hard for me too, though,” his lips quirk up in an almost smile, but you can tell he doesn’t mean it. It’s sort of comforting to know that even someone like him feels it. Of course he would. Your neesan was family, but Yuuta probably knew her better than you ever could. He was beside her when she got out the two times, and was waiting when she had to get re-admitted. He was there when she got hit— there’s a comforting brush of your cheek when he stands back up and the umbrella gets so much higher. Yuuta blinks. “Come. I think you can do it.”

Your chubby cheeks flood with warmth, as you take his fingers into your hands with a nod. “Okay.”

It’s like this that you wind up at the headstone, stepping through dredged earth that’s been walked on too much. It seems to cling to the bottoms of your shoes with intent - you squeeze Yuuta nii’s hand tighter at the sight of the family grave. It now holds three of your kin in a warm embrace under the several bouquets of wilting flowers, and however morbidly, you think that maybe you’ll be joining soon. You’re young, but it’s not lost on you when the nurses send each other pitying looks.

“Is this where neesan’s buried?” Your voice sounds pinched and small, and sort of pathetic. You imagine Yuuta nii cried when he came to the funeral, but he wouldn’t have whined. You’re whining. You don’t want Yuuta to get fed up with you. Not when he’s the last semblance of ‘family’ you have left. After a while of staring blankly at the stone, he nods, and turns over his shoulder to smile at you again, pulling you a little closer to him. Your arms loop around his waist, staring down at the pretty whites that shake under the rain. “Is this where I’ll be buried when I die?”

He freezes. You feel bad about the double take he does when his spine goes more straight, rigid limbs dropping by his side as a deep, uncomfortable breath makes its way out. Your hands wring together instead.

However long it takes for him to unlock his limbs is however long you breathe through your tears as they well up stubbornly along your lash line, before your head is pulled to his ribs into an embrace. He swallows back emotion himself. “That’s not- I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I promise. I promise.”

“I’m sick-”

“No.” His eyes glint with something silvery when he takes your face between both hands and lets your childishness wash over him, clenching his jaw. “What happened to Rika was an accident- I- I couldn’t do anything then. But nothing’s going to happen to you as long as I’m here. I need- you to believe me.”

You don’t flinch when he uses your cheek to turn your face his way, but the urge still sits. His eyes study your face too intently, like he’s looking for something he can’t quite find. “I promised that I’d be a niichan that protects you.”

Rain splatters into a million glistening flecks as it meets the headstone.

“Okay,” you say.

It isn’t lost on you that his jaw is set too tight as he drags you back by the hand towards his bike, fist clenched around the umbrella. He breathes a tiny, ‘Later, Rika’ before turning on his heel. You don’t manage the same. Your voice gets stuck in your throat, even when he helps you up onto the bike rack in the back, pulling your face into his chest too tight- squeezes you to mold against him. He smells nice for a teen boy. The kiss he leaves on your crown is gentle, and leaves a soft warmth on your skin — You doubt it is really meant for you.

+

The door pushes open as you’re putting clips into your bangs, tongue trapped between your teeth. You cast Yuuta a glance through the mirror when he lingers at the door, and try to smile. “I’m almost ready.” You’re no longer too keen on fighting, the longer the silent treatment drags on. After a while of watching you with his arms crossed over his chest — he walks over to your bed to plop himself down and lets himself fall backward.

“I’m sorry,” the noiret sighs at nothing in particular, as you put on a necklace and after debating for a second, some perfume. The noise makes Yuuta look, studying you when you turn. It’s easy to forget sometimes that Yuuta didn’t have to stay with you, and he sure as hell didn’t have to give up a lot of his youth to take care of you like he does. Like your other family refuses to do when all the cards are on the table. He catches your stare. “You know I love you. I… worry when you’re not right here where I can see you. We stick together.”

“I know.” Your smile only barely makes your lips move, but you do mean it. You just wish realizations like this didn’t always have to come at the cost of fighting. “For what it’s worth, I’ll probably always forgive you.” You try to laugh, and brush your hair out of your eyes a final time before grabbing your bag. “I’m only going to be out for a few hours, max.”

Yuuta frowns when he sits up. His dark hair is brushed out of his face, damp and soft from the shower. “You’re still going?”

You blank. “Yeah, Himari and Shota are waiting for me. We’re going to see a movie.” He only has to let his eyes travel over your body and clothing once, for you to read what he’s thinking. You yank the edge of your skirt a bit lower, and pull your shoulders up. “What, what?! I can’t go out looking like this? It’s basically the same length as my uniform, what’s wrong with that?!”

“I didn’t say anything,” he breathes back, empty eyes regarding you with a static sort of- indifference, you guess.

“You don’t have to, niichan! God!” You turn to walk out the room, but Yuuta grabs your wrist when you pass by the bed. Sat down like he is, eyes tracing you like a lion- Yuuta no longer looks like the boy that used to draw stars on the ceiling of your hospital room for your amusement. Your cheeks heat when he basically glares straight at you for your attitude, and mulls the answer around in his mouth. Your anger subsides as you take a breath. This is the guy who makes you fresh apple juice in the morning, and calls you up between shifts. Because he cares. He just cares.

“Can I please go, Yuuta nii?”

After a few seconds, he clicks his tongue, staring at the edge of your skirt before tugging at it too, barely hiding a frown you can see dig between his brows. “You know I don’t like that Shota kid?”

Your lips jut out. “Yeah…” It’s getting awfully close to time to leave. You take a step back just to get his hands away from you. It’s distracting, and this is your brother you’re dealing with. “But he’s really nice. He started high school already but he used to be in my class the last three years, so… so you don’t have to worry. He knows I can’t do everything because I’m sick and he says—”

“Yeah, I’m sure he says everything you want to hear… You’re smarter than this. You don’t actually believe that.”

“He’s my friend.” A friend that makes your heart beat a bit faster when he smiles at you, but what’s it to him? “He doesn’t lie.”

Yuuta grimaces when you stare him down. “Don’t tell me about teenage boys, I used to be one.” He bristles before sitting up straighter, and though he’s technically below you, you still feel his energy tower as those big, dark eyes stay on your face. “Are you really ‘going to see a movie’? Or are you just going to sit in a boy’s room all night while I’m worried sick-”

You’re about ready to walk out, but his fingers are still looped around your wrist. “We are going to the movies! Himari and I! Just because a boy is there- ugh! Niichan, don’t make it weird!” The heat burns higher on your cheeks when you ball your fists, ignoring the pressure behind your eyes. This is so embarrassing. “I want to go.”

It’s quiet for much too long, making goosebumps appear all over your exposed skin. Then he breathes. “Come here.” His voice has more of an edge than it used to. You used to like the way your name fell from his lips. You’re not so sure you do anymore. Instead of storming out and forgetting all about him, you stare back at the sharpness in his eyes. When he pats his lap with familiarity, you jerk a brow. But you sit. His breath brushes along your neck too softly where he’s seated. It tickles on the way down.

It almost feels like… like he could wrap his hands around your neck and squeeze until you stopped struggling.

Yuuta nii wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t.

Fingers come to your necklace, undoing it, and it drops into your lap on the pretty, blue skirt. It’s suddenly much too cold in the room, and you resist the urge to wrap your arms around yourself. It’s fine. You’re fine. Yuuta is family.

Still the untouched skin of your neck feels too exposed.

If he notices your rigid posture, he doesn’t bother fixing it. Just reaches, then pushes your head forward. The childishly familiar pink, bedazzled heart he holds up instead glints, swaying from where you left it on your side table for the night. “You get back at 9,” his lower voice sounds, “or else I’m driving out to wherever you are and dragging you back to my car.” When you don’t say anything in response, he brushes away your hair from your shoulders.

“Yuuta nii,” you start, clamming up when he drapes the dainty thing around your throat and does the closure for you. “I wasn’t going to wear that one tonight.” You don’t always want to wear whatever Rika left behind until infinity.

“I think you will,” he breathes back, and kisses your exposed shoulder. It’s less sweet, more something to punctuate his statement. If he wasn’t so familiar and soft, you’d immediately fight against the way his strong arms wind around your waist to anchor you in his lap. “Just wear it.” His hands stay against your skin, long after he’s finished. Too long, and after seconds of sitting in the tense silence, you jerk up off his lap to grab your discarded bag from the floor. The other necklace drops to the carpet somewhere, but you don’t care.

“Fine,” you bring out tightly, before giving him a last look. Your bottom lip trembles a slight bit, so you suck it into your mouth to make it stop. And tears sting at the corners despite yourself. “Later, then.”

“Tell Himari that niichan says hello. It’s been so long since she’s been here.” He gets up from your bed too, and you resist the urge to rush out the room before him when he steps around you. You can’t fight the feeling that somehow… you were just caught in your lie. Your phone beeps in your bag, as Yuuta nii disappears around the corner. Shota, probably.

+

Blood. The door creaks, swings against the wind.

Dead.

You hope he’s dead. Blood pools at the center of the showers, sinks down the drain too slowly. It sticks to the pretty porcelain tiles of the old school locker room before the water gurgles it down.

They’re dead.

You don’t have to question it before it’s confirmed. Before the heavy, silver cleaver is lodged into the side of the already ruined skull. All of them. All of the boys of the soccer team seem to be present, though you don’t want to try and count. Counting makes it real. This shouldn’t be. The heavy thump makes way for a gross squelch when he yanks the metal out, and keeps the body down with his foot.

The spatters on his face are still wet. You can’t help the way your voice comes out when you breathe in deep and try to keep the tears from spilling over. The cleaver’s red and sticky and so is his hand, up to his forearm, his forehead from wiping his hair away. All of it, ruined.

“Y-yuuta nii?”

The metal door of the locker slams closed with the wind and hits you in the back, sending you skittering forward a few steps before you force the air out of your lungs with a stuttered pant.

With a soft smile, he turns over his shoulder. “Shhh.” The blood’s crusted under his nails when he presses a finger to his lips, then waves you closer. “Help niichan out?” His eyes glint over, before his smile goes a little wider, and he whips the blood off the weapon onto the ground. “S’ your fault I had to do this after all. We can clean up together. Hm?”

Your breathing is so shallow that you can feel your heartbeat in between your ears. You aren’t sure why you nod. The guilt tastes bitter on the way down.

+

Rika was dead on impact. She didn’t have a chance, even after she fought so vehemently against what took your mom. You know that. Even if she didn’t get struck by misfortune then, she might’ve not lived past her teens.

Yuuta doesn’t seem to know. He also doesn't seem to consider the same for you either— letting you toy with the edge of his shirt where you’re curled into him in your too-small bed. The hospital wants you back for another check-up.

It’s true that you’ve already outlived your sister, but that doesn’t mean it’ll last forever. Yuuta nii doesn’t want to hear it. As he brushes your hair with his fingers, you scratch the arm where the IV’s always get attached with an absent minded pout. Until Yuuta notices, pouting down at you. “Are you still feeling dizzy? I can make you some green tea if you’ll let go of me for a few minutes. Lots of honey like you like.” You quickly shake your head.

To him this is final, the worst you’ll ever get, and in reality that’s probably not the case. You don’t tell him though. His deep eyes stay on you a little too long. “What’s wrong?”

Sometimes you wake up and can’t open your eyes past a blurry sliver, your head tight enough to make your skull feel like it’s caving in. Times where you have to clasp your stomach painfully tight to hold yourself together — stumbling in tears into Yuuta’s room. Like you’ll disintegrate in his arms unless you lock him around yourself. This isn’t as bad, but you still feel bad.

Feverish and cold all at once, achy where your stomach goes up and down. You can’t mention the possibility of having to go back into urgent care without aniiki spiraling, so you keep your mouth shut. “I don’t like green tea,” you guiltily admit instead, and stare up at him when he holds a few knuckles to your head, studying you.

His expression scrutinizes you a little tighter, before he pets over your crown. He presses a soft kiss onto your lips. It’s Rika that loved it, you want to say, but for some reason you can’t make the words come out. He sighs, slightly put out, but then nods. “If you’re feeling better later, maybe you can help Yuuta nii with the curry. Okay?”

“Mhm,” you smile up at him, and you can see how the muscles in his jaw unclench.

His soft hands cup your face intently, staring down at you too intently. It starts sweet, until the feeling of his breath dust over your face and you watch as he flicks his eyes all over you. “You look so much like her. I can tell now that you’re getting older though,” his thumb smoothes over your soft cheek. “We should see if there’s something in Rika’s stuff you can still wear.”

“Won’t be able to fit it anymore, niichan.” Your voice comes out apologetic, though you don’t know why.

“Hm. You might be right.” His look goes more distant before he pulls you closer. Legs tangled, arms loosely looped around you. “You’re still smaller than me though. Luckily.” He takes a deep breath, before nuzzling his nose into your crown to breathe long and deep. His warm hands trail over yours before squeezing. “I love you, you know that? Always will.”

You stare at the wall of mementos past Yuuta’s shoulder. Suffocatingly cram packed. Her pictures. Her music poster. Her pre-teen bottle of perfume you wear only on special occasions. Your hands stop toying with the edge of his shirt to brush instead along his forearm until you meet something that isn’t skin. Yuuta’s quiet, but his breathing is slightly pinched— you don’t mean to.

You glance between you two to the plastic your finger hooks onto. The bracelet she made in the hospital care ward for Yuuta that he still wears despite the fact that the color has long peeled off of the cheap beads. “You loved neesan, right?” Your lashes almost brush when you look back at him, watch him trap his tongue between his teeth for a moment as pink sits on his cheeks. His hand wraps around yours to tangle fingers.

“I… did.”

He swallows. “She made the hospital seem a little less lonely.” The mementos seem to stare at you from across the room as he speaks, and the uncomfortable feeling in your stomach refuses to fade. If anything, it gets more painful. Tighter. “We’re going to be together forever though. And I,” he squeezes your hand, voice fading to barely a whisper, “I love you. Love you so much.”

There's a cold slid over your fingers when he moves. You allow him to slip off the band, gently, and almost as if he wants to give it to you without you noticing, his fingers slide the cursed thing onto your hand instead. His smile is gentle, makes those dark eyes look a little less pressing. “When you’re cleared from going back to the hospital, we can find me a matching one. We still have to get married, right?”

The room feels cold.

“... Okay.”

+

“Let’s kiss?”

It’s too late to be early when the shared bed gets crowded over on your side. “St- I’m going to sleep, Yuuta nii. Stop.” You don’t open your eyes to the touch, definitely not to the gentle brush of his fingers over your lips when he gets too close. Always too close- it’s suffocating. “I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.”

“Don’t be like that.” He sounds happy. He always sounds like that when it has to do with you, and it doesn’t take long for your eyes to flutter open when the thumb instead pushes into your mouth. “If we get married, this will be normal. Don’t pull back.” He pushes onto your tongue to make you hold it in your mouth all heavy and tasting of him, then leans in to push his forehead to yours. Deep, possessive eyes pinning you in place.

“You don’t want to?” It almost sounds mocking. You know you brought this on yourself. You asked to go home early, you asked to invite friends. Maybe this is payback the way big brothers give it. There’s tears that spring up anyway when his other hand slips under your shirt and he squeezes your soft belly. As the spit he wipes on your lips gets kissed away by an impatient sigh. “I’ve wanted to for such a long time. You wouldn’t ask me to wait more.”

“Yuuta nii. We’re siblings, aren’t we?” The ring glitters. Your hand is clenched into the front of his shirt as warm hands grab down your body— hands you love. Hands you trusted.

“Of course we are. That’s why I’m doing this, silly girl.” Hands that push your underwear down your round hips despite you fighting to keep them up. He giggles when you burn with embarrassment, before pressing kisses to your temple. “I love you. I love you, I love you. Who better to kiss you than big brother?” You shake your head, try to push- he doesn’t budge. Just keeps your body in place under his with his weight.

“G-get off of me, Yuuta! Stop being so weird!” You cry, pushing until he grabs your wrist and forces it down beside your head. He’s still smiling though, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Like you’re still a child acting out. It’s that which makes you squirm more, and the glare digs into your forehead when he gets on top of you. “Stop~ I don’t want to kiss.”

Instead he laces his fingers with your ring hand, as the other patiently flutters down to rub over your pussy. You don’t want to. You don’t. Yuuta just smiles when he tilts his head to regard you, and squeezes your fingers a little tighter. “Rika-chan asked me to take care of you. Don’t get so mad.”

+

It’s getting cooler and cooler and cooler the longer he stands. Pressed in the corner of the sterile, greenish blue atmosphere with white sheets draped over your body. He takes a long, deep breath until the nurse finishes up with the checks, taking freshly drawn blood away in a vial. “You’re the guardian?”

The red stands out against your complexion as your restless sleep drifts deeper— he shifts in his seat to lace his hands together. “Her big brother, yes.”

She doesn’t bother to pretend to care when tapping her clipboard, gives a distracted smile. “The doctor will be here within the next hour, okay? Please wait here until then.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Yuuta’s quick not to let the smile quirk up onto his mouth when she’s already walking out before he finishes. As soon as the door falls into lock he gets up from the uncomfortable chair to kneel by your bedside and grasp your hand.

Soft. Small.

He hates to admit that he could spend hours here by your side; but the truth is the truth. He could, and he has. And he will, until it is no longer necessary.

Yuuta kisses your hand with a gentle smile, feeling your heartbeat thump under his lips. You mumble, he swears he can hear his name. “I’m here. Niichan’s here.” He smiles a little more when the soft fingers wrap back around his hand and he watches your expression relax even in your sleep. He can’t help it, the soft thumping against his cheek makes his entire body warm.

You’re so alive, and so close- every cell in his body yearns to be beside you. He kisses the area between your thumb and pointer in an attempt to soothe the feeling of biting down entirely. Instead he clasps your hand with two of his before standing up. “You would have loved Rika.” His mouth tingles. “She would’ve hated you- but you would have loved her. I think she would have been a bit jealous though.”

He dips to press a soft kiss onto your lips, humming softly when your warm breath dusts over his cheeks. “You’re so cute.” A few years ago, you would’ve had visitors waiting for you. “I know you were looking forward to graduation, but I’m still here for you.” He places his hands on both sides of your face to hover over you instead of pulling back, can’t keep himself from it.

“You don’t want to leave your niichan, right?” It’s not your fault that everyone else wants you to move on. He’ll take you just as you are. He has to force himself to pull back before he kisses you again, so you don’t wake just yet. You will. And you’ll cry into his chest about missing your precious graduation, and about being stuck here again, just when you were getting better. He never much wanted you in uni anyway.

From his space sat on the edge of your bed, he can easily see how the blanket squirms. How the motion curls and wiggles until he easily pulls the sheet down your chest, then your stomach.

Two beady eyes stare up at him as he brings his face a little closer. The fly head is still clinging to your stomach, hasn’t moved from where he left it. By now it’s become an accessory every few months. It’s not strong enough to kill you— just barely enough to keep you believing you’re still sick, and that’s all he really needs. You need his care, need him. He resists the urge to pick the thing up at least until he can take you back home.

Instead he nudges it up a little higher, so he can place his palm onto your belly to stroke gentle circles in its place, feeling the heat through the gown. He can feel your heart bounce all the way down your body, it’s so cute. When the little fodder curse crawls onto your chest, lids shooting open as you gasp. “Yuuta nii-” Your eyes are lined red, and as soon as they find him you start bawling.

More than happy to let him hike you up from the bed and into his arms, where you bury your face into his neck. Your hiccups are so cute. It’s easy to kiss them quiet when you don’t have enough breath to ask him to stop. He’s sure this time he could slip his tongue into your mouth and you wouldn’t say a thing.

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2024. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

[strawberrymilkgeorge]

Part Seventeen. The Bugity Stream

warnings: swearing, dream is jealous, kinda angsty word count: 4k (not including pictures)

behind the screen (irl dream x f!reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist wattpad

a/n: heheheeee bugity stream!! barely any dreamsy interaction and we don’t read the actual bugity fanfics, but lots of pouty dream :/ and we’re seeing stuff from a new person’s POV (also, elmo and i 389757% have come up with lore for the foxtrot fic that they mention in this chapter..... side fic??)  everyone say THANK YOU HARVEY FOR BEING AN AMAZING BETA (@hungoverhellhound) ur the best :)  also also, 🦀 anon suggested using discord people’s names for twitch chat so i did!! (i asked beforehand and everyone who wanted to be included was) it was fun adding that little bit so hehe hope mushroom field likes their comments

ANYWAY, ENJOY THIS PART!!!!!!!!! and as always, thanks for all the positive comments and stuff yall really make me cry /pos 

**********

George’s POV

.

George left the messaging app when he received a spam of notifications from Dream on Discord telling him to call him as soon as possible. He knew it wasn’t an actual emergency, which is the only reason he took his sweet time rising from his bed and meandering over to his desk. George fell on his chair with a huff, taking a deep breath before pulling himself closer to his desk and opening Discord. He picked up his headphones and slid them on, preparing himself for the loud voice his best friend was about to use. After pressing a few familiar buttons, he could hear his best friend's frantic cry for help through his headphones.

“GEORGE.”

He tried his hardest not to roll his eyes. “Dream.”

“I'm-I’m going to literally—GEORGE. What am I supposed to do?”

“About what?”

“You know what!” Dream huffed, exasperated. “The stream!”

“You don’t even know what it is, why are you being so weird about it?”

“I’m not being weird,” he defended.

“Yes, you are,” George countered. “You’re, like, panicking, I dunno.”

“Because it’s Quackity! He’s probably gonna make, like, a proposal video or some shit to show her and then everyone is going to ship them and she’s going to forget about me and—”

“This wouldn’t be a problem if you tell her you like her.”

Dream scoffed. “Oh, so they can make fun of me for it? No, thanks.”

“She wouldn’t make fun of you for liking her,” George reasoned. Definitely not. “Why would Bugsy make fun of you for that? Or for anything in general?”  

“Okay, maybe not, but she’d definitely be weirded out or not believe me. I can’t tell her yet. It… it has to be the right time.”

George thought it was rather cute that Dream cared so much about his confession being perfect, whereas Quackity was doing everything he could to make Dream just say it. Dream had been stressing over how to tell her he liked her for a few weeks, constantly running ideas by George before telling him to forget it and coming up with new plans. He could see how important it was to Dream that he did it right. They just needed to figure out what “right” was.

“Fine, but I’m just saying if you told her already, you wouldn’t have to be so worried about this.”

“Should I be? You make it sound like me panicking is justified! WHAT ARE THEY DOING?”

“Stop being so dramatic!” George laughed. “She isn’t going to forget about you and if he proposes to her, we can just ask to join the call and we’ll all yell at Quackity for you, okay?”

“No, I wanna yell at Quackity.”

“Well, he said he’s not going to let you in the call so…”

“He did? When did he say that? Wait, why won’t he let me in?? What are they doing??”

George laughed at the franticness in Dream’s voice. “I’m not allowed to say.”

“George!”

“I can’t!” he said as he threw his hands into the air. “I literally can’t!”

“Oh come on, you’ve never kept a secret in your life but now you decide to?”

George shook his head. If only Dream knew how many secrets he was actually keeping, it would be obvious just how good George was at not spilling things.

“George, just tell me what they’re doing,” Dream begged, his voice now somber and genuinely worried instead of frantic. “Please.”

“I can’t, Dream. I’m sorry. But really, it’s going to be okay.” Hating the seriousness of the conversation and the oddly soft tone of his voice, George changed the subject. “Oh, look at that, Karl wants to join the call. I’ll add him,” he said quickly, knowing Dream wasn’t going to say anything about how much he liked Bugsy around her best friend. In Dream’s eyes, Karl was unaware of his feelings for Bugsy, and George assumed he wanted to keep it that way.

“Wait, George before you—” Dream started softly but was cut off by the sound of someone joining the call.

“Hey, Karl!” George greeted obliviously.

“Hi! Neither of you are streaming or recording or anything, right?” Karl asked.

“No,” Dream answered bluntly.

“We’re just waiting for Quackity to start his stream and we’re gonna watch together.”

“Oh, yeah!” Karl cackled. “You really wanna see it, Dream? Even though Quackity will probably hit on Bugsy?”

“Yeah, why should I care?” he faked disinterest, even though everyone in the call knew he would definitely care if that happened. “It probably will be funny, to be fair. And since Bug will be too busy to talk to me, I guess I can still, you know, hear her voice…” he trailed off to an almost inaudible volume and George smiled, deciding not to tease the younger boy for the sweet sentiment.

“I'll watch it with you,” Karl said. “We can all make fun of them together.”

George noted the long pause of silence before Dream softly asked, “Do you know what they’re doing, Karl?”

“Yup!”

“W-what is it?”

“Mmm, can’t say! Sorry!” Karl chirped in fake obliviousness. “Why do you want to know?”

George rolled his eyes; he knew what Karl was doing, pretending like he didn’t already know Dream would be jealous in hopes that Dream would spill to him. It’s like he and Quackity enjoyed causing Dream pain, pushing him to the edge in situations where he couldn’t vent his feelings, forcing him to keep it inside and build it up in an overwhelming pile of emotions.

“Just… curious,” Dream lied.

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see,” Karl said nonchalantly. “I’m gonna be honest though, George, can I just say, I’m a little annoyed with them.”

George laughed. “Really, why?”

Karl hummed, choosing his words carefully. “It might mess things up,” he said softly.

“Yeah, I’m starting to see what you mean by that,” George admitted vaguely. In the few minutes he had been talking to Dream, he could already tell it wasn’t going to go over well with the blond boy.

“Can you guys just… tell me what they’re doing?” Dream tried again, the desperation spilling out of him. “Why is it a big deal? What would it mess up?”

Karl giggled again. “Bugsy and Quackity like keeping their fans on their toes, you know? As Bugsy’s number one fan it would be the worst to tell you.”

“Well, I’m also Quackity’s number one anti right now so it cancels out,” Dream reasoned. “So you can tell me.”

“Aw, he admitted he’s her number one fan!” Karl teased.

Dream groaned when he realized he wouldn’t get anywhere by repeatedly asking the same question. In other words, he gave up. “When are they supposed to start?”

“Um, soon I think?” George answered vaguely as he opened Twitch on his other monitor. “He’s not live yet but he Tweeted earlier that it would be around now.”

There were a few moments of silence before Karl spoke up. “So, how have you guys been today?”

“Mm, pretty good,” George admitted, scrolling through Twitter on his phone and pretending to not hear Dream’s pitiful sighs. “Kinda slow, but not bad. What about you?”

“Good, actually. Bugsy, Naomi, and I went out for lunch earlier which was fun. Speaking of…” Karl giggled. “Naomi? And you? What’s up?”

George felt himself turn red at the mention of their relationship, whatever it was. “Why don’t you ask her?”

“I have,” he admitted happily. “I just want to make sure your stories line up.”

“Karl! No, that’s-that’s… I’m not telling you anything now.”

“George doesn’t talk about feelings, Karl. He’s not going to tell you. I know his side of the story though,” Dream said. “He’s told me.”

“What did he say?”

“I could tell you,” Dream bargained, attempting to get the information he wanted in any way possible, “if you tell me what Quackity and Bug are streaming.”

Karl cackled. “Woah, woah, woah, Dream. I don’t need to know that bad. Dang, you’re really impatient!”

“Yes, okay!” Dream snapped, annoyance in his voice. “Sue me for wanting to know what super top-secret thing that the girl I really like and the boy who constantly publicly flirts with her are doing! Because it’s obviously not just a cooking stream or roblox or else you guys wouldn’t act like the FBI put you in charge of keeping it from me. And don’t give me that garbage and ask why I assume it’s something flirty just because it’s being kept from me. I know that all of you are aware of how much I like her so Quackity is definitely doing it on purpose. Literally everyone except maybe Y/n knows I like her, I know that. So yes I want to know and yes I’m worried about what the fucking stream is.”

George and Karl were silent for a few moments, processing his rant. Maybe Karl was right, maybe it was stupid of Y/n to try to make him jealous this way. Sure, jealous Dream was entertaining, but when was it too far? Would Dream think them reading fanfiction together was funny at all or just purely exasperating? George started to think the latter was more likely.

“Shit,” Karl mumbled. “Dream—”

“Dream, I promise there’s nothing to actually be worried about,” George tried reassuring.

“Yeah, you’ll probably get jealous and it’s very understandable if you do but… Quackity’s just messing around,” Karl added.

Dream took a deep breath and almost on cue, George got a notification from Twitter that Quackity had tweeted.

“He’s live,” Karl announced softly and they waited to hear Dream’s reaction once he saw the title.

It came softly, a voice of disbelief ringing through George’s headphones. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Hey, you’re already trending for your joke, that should make you happy,” Karl offered and Dream knocked something over on his desk.

“Shit,” he mumbled through the mic. “Shit, shit, shit. I spilled my—shit.” A few seconds passed and George took the silence to share his screen with the others so they could watch the video together. “No, Karl, that doesn’t make me feel better. It’s not really a joke. I mean, I’ll play it off as one but… wait, don’t share your screen,” he told George. “I don’t want to watch this shit.”

“You said you did.”

“That was when I didn’t know what it was,” he replied as if it was obvious. “I don’t want to watch them read fanfiction together.”

“He doesn’t actually like her,” Karl reminded gently.

“I don’t care, it’s still embarrassing for me! It’s just a fat reminder that she doesn’t like me back and that she’s not my girlfriend.”

George wanted to slam his head against a wall. He opted for his desk instead, his forehead coming in contact with the wood with a loud THUD. It was so hard to keep his mouth shut and not just tell him about Y/n’s feelings.

“It’s, like, Quackity is rubbing it in my face that she doesn’t like me. What an asshole.”

“That’s not what he’s trying to do,” Karl said. His voice sounded as in pain as George felt. Which one of them was going to break first and tell Dream?

He didn’t know how to use words that weren’t ‘Bugsy likes you, dipshit’, so he tried something else. “It might still be funny—”

Dream wasn't laughing. Nothing about this was funny to him. “George.” Frustration was evident in his sharp tone.

“I don't get what the big deal is—”

“They're-they’re reading fanfiction! It's just gonna be a bunch of, like, romantic stories about them and, what, I'm supposed to just watch?”

“You don't have to watch it if you don't want to. I'm sure Quackity won't mind losing one viewer—”

“George, I'm being serious.”

“Calm down,” he said gently. “It's just Quackity. We told you already, he doesn't like Bugsy like that.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m okay with this,” Dream mumbled.

George took a deep breath. He did understand how Dream was in an uncomfortable situation, and even if it wasn't a big deal to him, it was to Dream.

“Hey, Dream?” Karl started gently.

“What?” he spat. He sounded like he was seconds away from disconnecting and hiding in his bed or punching a wall or doing whatever it is Dream does when he’s upset.

Karl hesitated for way too long before saying, “We can do something else if you still want to hang out with us. I don’t want to force you to watch it if it really will upset you.”

Dream breathed deeply. “I’m being dramatic,” he admitted softly, reminding George of a little kid getting reprimanded by an adult. “We can… watch it, I guess.”

“You’re not being dramatic if that’s how you feel,” Karl reassured. When did he become a therapist? George sat back as he listened to them, biting his lips in order to not spill Y/n’s secret. “If it really does make you upset, then that’s that. You’re allowed to be jealous, I mean, I understand why you are. That was literally Quackity’s plan, we expected you to be.”

“I’m not allowed to be jealous, though,” Dream countered lightly. “She’s-she’s not my girlfriend. She’s allowed to do what she wants. I have no right feeling like… like…” he trailed off and sighed.

George raised his head to look at Dream’s Discord icon empathetically.

“I didn’t know you liked her this much,” Karl admitted. “I just thought… well, I don’t know what I thought.”

George agreed. They knew Dream was whipped for Bugsy and that watching a stream of Quackity and her read fanfiction together would piss him off a little, but this was different. He sounded utterly heartbroken.

“I really do,” Dream mumbled, his voice muffled by what George assumed was his hands on his face.

Internally screaming at himself to tell his best friend something that was guaranteed to make him feel better, George wrung his hands together. He looked at his second monitor, which still showed Quackity’s starting soon screen. “Dream?”

“What?”

“Tell her.”

“I can’t, it has to b—”

“It has to be perfect, I know,” George interrupted impatiently but gently. “Tell her soon.”

Dream’s next words came in a soft, embarrassed tone, no longer defensive and combative but rather nervous and contemplative. “What if she doesn’t believe me? Or she thinks I like her for the wrong reasons?”

“Do you mean because you haven’t seen her?” Karl asked sincerely. “Because of that idea her ex got stuck in her head?”

As if suddenly realizing he was in the presence of the person who knew Bugsy better than anyone, Dream’s voice perked up. “Karl,” he paused. “Can you promise me that you won’t tell her anything I tell you?”

“Yes,” Karl replied quickly. “I promise. I want to help you and if that means not telling her, I will.”

“You heard on Quackity’s stream that she and I were FaceTiming? Like, that I’ve seen her?”

“Yeah,” George and Karl replied together.

“I’m still bitter that I found that out from watching a stream instead of from my best friend,” Karl muttered, “but continue.”

George laughed through his nose at Karl’s comment before Dream explained his concern. “Since I didn’t tell Bug that I like her before I saw her, I’m worried she’ll think I only like her now because I know what she looks like. See my problem? If I told her before, she wouldn’t believe me but if I tell her now she might think it’s because of her looks.”

“Oh,” Karl said, his voice muffled behind his hand. “I see what you’re saying. Hm, that’s… I think... I could be wrong, but I’ve talked to Naomi and we both think she’s, like, realizing you don’t need to see someone to like them.”

“How do you figure?”

Karl hesitated. “Not important. But, I think it would be fine if you told her. I think you’ve proven that you like her for more than her looks and she’s blind if she couldn’t tell you liked her before.”

George nodded to himself. “Yeah, Naomi has mentioned that to me too. I think you guys are right. And yeah, Dream, you’ve clearly liked her before so she would understand.”

“What if it makes things weird between us?” Dream asked. “You know, telling her.”

“Trust us, it won’t make things weird.”

“How should I—”

Dream was interrupted abruptly by Quackity unmuting his stream and yelling, “CHAT! HOW ARE WE TODAY?” and laughing loudly.

George flinched at the sudden change in mood. Just as he and Karl were calming Dream down, Quackity went and made the air tense again. George could feel Dream’s anxiety slowly growing.

“Again, we don’t have to watch,” Karl offered but Dream made a noise in protest.

“Let’s watch.”

The atmosphere was tense to say the least, occasional comments trying to lighten the mood about Quackity or Bugsy being funny or stupid, but overall the voice call was quiet. George had no idea what to say to Dream and he could tell Karl didn’t either. Having the chat open wasn’t helping either.

user43: GEORGE IS HERE HE’S GONNA SNITCH TO DREAM libbbyyyyyyyyy: george george george he’s watching venus: bugsy simps getting FED today user13: wattpad writers watch out ItsRainingPastels: this is so funny!! Bugity interactions are amazing Chrimsss: foxtrot???? user71: READ. FOXTROT. cantaloupe: ajsdkfhj please the look on his face when bugsy said “that could be us” user92: FOXTROT NEXT FOXTROT NEXT user48: i'm surprised dream hasn't barged into chat or their call to yell at quackity yet noraimp: i’ve been saying bugity supremacy all along and no one believed me until now hungoverhellhound: stop saying foxtrot i WILL CRY user11: SUCK IT DREAM, BUGSY AND QUACKITY ARE BETTER FOR EACH OTHER bexwastaken: i miss dream :(

George took the liberty of closing the chat so Dream didn’t have to see it.

“Thanks,” he mumbled softly. Apparently that was a good choice on George’s part.

“Chat just gets in the way,” he excused, trying to place the decision on his own reasons rather than embarrass Dream by acknowledging that he knew seeing all the comments was bothering the younger

“This story is actually kinda funny,” Dream admitted. “Well, it’s super cringey but… it’s funny that Bug thinks it’s funny.”

Karl made a small whine in adoration. “That’s so cute.”

“Shut up,” Dream mumbled. “Or I won’t tell you anything ever again.”

“Were you going to?”

“Yeah, maybe, I guess,” Dream said. “If that’s okay with you. You know her better than anyone and… I obviously need advice or nothing is going to happen.”

“Dream,” Karl started formally, “I’d be honored to give you the best Bugsy advice I can offer. And to hear you say cute things like that about her because it’s adorable. I’m sure ranting about how cute she is to George is like talking to a brick wall.”

Dream hummed, a small laugh escaping him. “Yeah, that’s pretty accurate, actually. He’s not very responsive. He doesn’t get it.”

“I’m sure she’s pretty and all, I’m just not good at talking about people’s feelings,” George defended.

George tuned back into the stream as Quackity and Bugsy laughed loudly. “Oh my gosh, holy shit that was wild,” Quackity exclaimed.

“Yeah, what the heck? That was so funny,” Bugsy admitted, still laughing lightly.  

“Okay, okay, one down. Guys, stop spamming Foxtrot in my chat, what is that? Is that a fic? I said I already picked everything out, don’t suggest things.” Quackity looked at his phone and laughed. “Wait, I did pick that one out, actually.”

George assumed the chat was going wild and his curiosity got the best of him so he opened it.

user66: READ CHAPTER 10 hungoverhellhound: NOOO NO DON’T READ IT PLEASE I CAN’T HANDLE THIS TODAY venus: this isn’t going to go well libbbyyyyyyyyy: laksjdhjkh try not to fall in love with each other after this one ItsRainingPastels: ive heard things about this fic… everyone cries cantaloupe: YES YES noraimp: are they reading foxtr…. oh no user52: SKIP TO CHAP 10 bexwastaken: dream come get your girl smh Chrimsss: we’re about to watch bugity become real because of this fic user10: it starts slow, do chap 10 or 16!!!! user88: quack isnt in it until later lol

“They said it starts really slow though? I’m not in it until chapter 3?” Quackity scoffed. “Fine, we’ll skip ahead.”

“People are saying ‘Chapter 10’ so that one must be good?” Bugsy suggested and Quackity complied.

George closed the chat again when he registered Dream’s silence and apologized under his breath.

“Try not to fall in love because of this fic?” Quackity read. “Can’t happen because we already are in love, chat.”

Dream scoffed, mirroring Bugsy’s reaction. “In your dreams, duck boy.”

“You are, actually,” Quackity teased.

“Shut the fuck up, Quackity,” Dream grumbled to no one, and George couldn’t help but laugh a little at that.

Foxtrot — the fanfiction the chat was raving about — was really good. At least the chapter they read on the stream was. It was so well written and soft and George hadn’t heard Dream speak in a good 15 minutes. George didn’t dare look at chat after they finished reading that one, opening his phone to text Quackity instead.

“Hold on, one second, chat,” Quackity said, faking a British accent as he looked at his phone. “One second, chat.”

George looked up and saw Quackity smiling at his phone as he set it on his desk and returned to the stream. “Okay!”

George set his phone on his own desk before hearing Bugsy laugh. “Dream just texted me.”

“What did he say?” Quackity asked nervously.

“He’s…” she trailed off and laughed. “He wants to know if I’m leaving him for you. He said, ‘I understand if you have feelings for him after that’. Oh my gosh.” She giggled and George heard Dream laugh through his nose.

“Dream,” Karl laughed. “Why?”

“Do you realize how suspicious it would be if I didn’t make some sort of appearance during the stream after all the things I’ve said on Twitter and stuff? I had to joke around for the chat.”

“Fair…” George said.

“Is he watching?” Quackity asked Bugsy as if George hadn’t just told him they were. “Dream, go away. We aren’t letting you in VC. Just accept the truth,” he laughed loudly.

George shook his head to himself as he realized how much this wasn’t a joke just to mess with the fans. If it was, Quackity would have let Dream into their call so everyone could witness Dream be jealous but instead, he was almost banishing Dream to be jealous in private. The fans not seeing how Dream was actually feeling made it more real somehow. Quackity really wanted Dream and Bugsy to own up to their feelings.

“I want to strangle him,” Dream confessed jokingly. “At this point, I don’t even want to be in their call because I don’t have the energy to play up being sad. I’m just really sad.”

“I told him to stop reading actual cute ones, so it should be fine now,” George announced. “That last one was too much.”

“You’re telling me.”

“Quackity, I’m not falling in love with you,” Bugsy stood her ground with a laugh. “Not happening, bud.”

“We’ll just have to read more until you do,” Quackity cackled and George heard Dream huff.

The stream didn’t last too much longer, Quackity apparently not wanting to take the joke too far even though he already had.

“Thank god that’s over,” Dream mumbled as George unshared his screen and closed Twitch.

“It wasn’t too bad, right?” Karl asked slowly.

Dream hummed. “It was pretty bad, Karl.”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighed.

“But now it’s over and you can go back to talking to Bugsy and have her full attention,” George said positively.

“How am I supposed to talk to her after that?”

“Like normal?”

“What if she brings it up?”

“Then you say, ‘Bugsy, I don’t want to talk about this because I like you’,” Karl suggested. “Simple.”

“Okay, you are no help. No longer coming to you for advice.”

“I’m kidding! I’m kidding. Just… tell her it was funny but don’t elaborate. She’s good at picking up on when people are uncomfortable, she’ll drop it.”

“Or tell her you like her,” George agreed and Karl laughed as Dream groaned.

“No. Not yet.”

“Not yet,” George mimed. “But soon.”

Dream took another deep breath. “Soon.”

__________

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tags: CLOSED @hydrate-tion @loraleiix @iamnothereatthemoment @charsdummb @jeyyes @notgeoreg @cerberus-hellhound @gaysludge @queestionmark @carnations-red @letsloveimagines @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @boiled-onionrings @a-cryptic @fee-btheweeb @erwinss @just-a-stan @axths @kayleigh2703 @furiouspockettoad @sometimeseverythingsucks @powerpuffyn @tinyegg @millavalntyne @automaticcomputerpaper @nikkineeky @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @sprucekot @bellomi-clarke @possiblyanxioushuman @crybabyjabby @mushroom-main @hungoverhellhound @dreamyteam @kuroo-icedtea @stuffforreferences @menacingaesthetic @sapphic-soot @fangeekkk @haseulreturns @queenwastaken @sunbunniie​ @losingvienna @bi-narystars @zero-nightshade @erinitoburrito @sparklykeylime @youhyakuya @danny-devitowo @clubfairy @loser-keiji @oi-itsemily @alm334 @the-katastrophe @wreny24 @applecakeradio @unicornblood4ever @aha-red @brendalopez99 @spacecluster @justonemoreepisode @strawbrinkofdeath @aikochan4859 @chaotic-tieflings @dreamsofficialwife @where-thesundoesntshine @jamiealenaa @unstableye @kageyamama-hinatatata @officiallyunofficialperson @secretly-a-weeb @localsimp @loxbbg @rhymeorreason1 @flubblubbb @kiritokunuwu @sylum @raining13lemonade @aiyncel @ghostfacefricker6969 @avengemepercy @modyoonie @givemeyourcrunchbars​ @donttellaweirdweakling @dreamiewrites @misfortunatem00n @mayempress @strang-ersclub @panic-at-space-camp @netheriteaxes @kaqinq @momo-has-a-gun @lunelicmoone @beller-18 @bluechocolatemint @mythicalamphitrite @crypticcandi @80sfeel @asianfrustration13 @justanunknown @libbynotfound @osculatcr @bindythedemon @haikyall @hyuckslytherin @thatonearieschild @the-perfect-gemini @ialexabsuniverse @sleepingalaska @renjunniex  @rebellionburnsthemup @moonchildwildx @sarcasticmichelle @carat-eri @ravennightingaleandavatempus @isthatyouritalian @cha0ticg0b1in​ @suwunarin @bxsmentchildxx  @mintchip17 @vincent-stargogh @jules-skye @askgeoff @d-fendyr @diedestress @idiotinnit @gabbysblogthingy @call-me-soap @fujiapfel @stxrryb1tch @onlynarry @squarky-sheep @ecao @ok-honey-blog​ @saltishima-rex @kodzukatcore @gwendolyn02 @kiwismoothies @flippyninja @xfihvru @anqelanqel @letkeefeswear @cantaloupe-draws @what-is-the-creature-oh-glob @theboywhocriedlupin

[xcertaindarkthingsx]

make you mine

pairing: jealous!mando x fem!reader

summary: you’ve been traveling with the Mandalorian for a while now as a healer and caretaker for the Child.  one day, the Mandalorian needs your specific skills to help him catch a bounty, and needless the say he is NOT happy about it.  

warnings: two idiots that don’t know they like each other, some fluff and yearning, a smidge of possessiveness/jealousy, canon-typical violence, swearing in basic and mando’a, brief mentions of unwanted touching, mentions of taking care of injuries/stitching and blood, SMUT 18+ (minors BEGONE), porn w/ plot i guess, thigh riding, finger sucking, grinding, a lil’ dirty talk (if i miss any just please let me know!)

word count: 7.6k (i’m soRRY)

a/n: WHEW OK so i originally wrote this for #dincember but because i suck at deadlines and take forever to write it just turned into something else. reader is a lil insecure but mando makes it all better (self-projection, anyone?) ummm, this is my first time writing for din AND my first time writing smut but i hope you guys like it! comments/likes/reblogs/feedback are completely welcome and much appreciated! i apologize if this is a mess kladjflkd but shoutout to @a-dorin and @princessxkenobi for being wonderful beta readers and helping me when i got stuck.  i am planning on making this a two parter, so if you want to be added to my tag list let me know! if you prefer to read on ao3 you can do so here . mando’a translations at the end!

gif credit: @bestintheparsec

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Soft coos filled the air inside the Razor Crest as you desperately tried to rock the Child back to sleep.  You were almost certain he was starting to get hungry, but you were out of snacks and Mando had told you not to leave the ship under any circumstances.

You had been traveling with the Mandalorian for a while now, after being picked up on Arvala-7. You were a healer—a pretty damn good one, if you had anything to say about it—and had patched him up after a bounty hunt gone wrong.  

The Mandalorian thought your services would be helpful if things ever got a little dicey again, so he asked you along for the ride (the reality was you had nagged and scolded him so much about how cauterizing was not the answer for every wound, that he eventually caved just to get you to stop). There wasn’t really anything tying you to Arvala-7, so you agreed.

Plus, the Child had taken a real liking to you, and how could you say no to that precious face?  

The Mandalorian was an odd man—well, no.  Not odd.  More like intriguing, and you were drawn to it.  It had been quiet and awkward the first few months.  He was a rigid man of few words, never speaking more than necessary (unless he thought he was alone with the kid; the way he spoke with him made your heart melt).  But after countless late nights together of taking care of the Child and constantly tending to his injuries, you were surprised to find there was a sense of gentleness under all that beskar.

The Mandalorian had been just as surprised as you when he found himself warming up to your presence.  It was all the little moments that had snuck up on him, the stolen glances and lingering touches, and now his heartbeat seemed to quicken every time you were together.

Little did he know, yours did too.  

At the sound of the hatch door opening, you looked up.  You watched as the Mandalorian walked up the platform, admiring his strut.  How someone could look so good just walking, you had no idea, but it was maddening.  

“No bounty?” you called out, turning the kid in your arms so he would be facing out towards his dad.  It was unusual that Mando hadn’t found the target yet, but you were just thankful he was in one piece for now.  He shook his head.

“Not yet.  I ran into some… complications,” he huffed and even though his voice was laced with frustration, it put you at ease.  Being on the ship alone for nearly the whole day, sometimes you just missed hearing that husky baritone filtering through his modulator.  

Not to mention you thought it was sexy as hell.  

You quirked an eyebrow at him.  “Complications?”  

He heaved a deep sigh, lifting a hand for the Child to grab, which he took happily.  “Hey, kid,” he whispered, and you smiled as the Child babbled back.  Mando turned his helmet towards you and continued.  “Yes, but I found a contact who should be able to give more information.  I came back for you and the kid first.  I know you guys must be hungry.”  

You nodded at the same time the little green bean gave a resounding coo, earning a soft chuckle from the both of you.  “I’ll get the pram ready.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

After a quick stop in the marketplace for supplies, Mando had led you two into what seemed to be the only bar in town.  It was only late afternoon, leaving it nearly empty, save for a few older patrons lazily sipping on glasses of ale.  You ignored the way the Weequay behind the bar seemed to look you up and down.     

Mando set you and the kid up with two bowls of soup at a table nearby while he talked business with his contact, who happened to be the bartender.  Sipping your soup, you tried not to eavesdrop as the two began to fall into what you would call a heated discussion.  On Mando’s end.  Apparently, this was a particularly “difficult” target.  

“Lucky for you, he’s got an eye for pretty girls,” the bartender drawled, jutting his chin at you.  “She’ll do fine.”

Your head snapped up from your task of feeding the child, spoon mid-air.  “Excuse me?”

“No.  Absolutely not,” resounded Mando’s gruff voice from under the helmet.    

“Listen, Mando.  This guy is high-profile, practically untouchable, bodyguards with him at all times. And I’m not talkin’ your run of the mill pair of idiots that can’t shoot for a damn, I’m talkin’ highly trained mercenaries.”  The Weequay sighed.  “I don’t doubt your skills as a Mandalorian, but you’re just one man.  You need to get him alone, and she is your only way of doing that,” he insisted.  

“I said, no,” Mando gritted out.  You were non-negotiable.  

The bartender just shrugged.  “Then consider this a loss, cause you’re not getting anywhere near him.”

Your heart hammered in your chest listening to the two of them argue. Embarrassment flooded your cheeks, remembering the way the bartender eyed you when you walked in.  All you wanted to do at this point was bury yourself in the confines of your room in the Razor Crest.

Mando seemed final in his decision, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was because he didn’t want you involved or if he thought you simply lacked the skills to do so.  He could probably tell you weren’t really the seducing type, and truthfully the thought of trying to do was mortifying.    

But Mando needed this, right?  You thought of all the things he’s done for you, how he’s protected and provided for you.  This was the least you could do for him.  You could deal with one night of potential discomfort so he could get his bounty.  It was a lot of credits.  

“I’ll do it.”

Mando snapped his head around at you so fast, it was a miracle he hadn’t hurt himself.  “For the last time, I said you are no—”

“I’m doing it,” you said a little more forcefully, cutting him off. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was staring daggers into you from underneath the helmet, but it was going to take more than a dirty look to get you to change your mind.  

“Excellent!” the bartender’s cheery voice cut through the tension in the room.  “Come on back, I’ve got an old dress an ex-girlfriend left behind that you could probably use.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The dress in question was a slinky black number that had you freezing your ass off in the cold of the desert night.  

The dress was too… everything.  Too short, too revealing, too tight; but the only other thing you had to wear were some oversized t-shirts and utility pants, which aren’t exactly sexy, so you were shit out of luck.  

Mando nearly choked when you came out of your room, thankful for the helmet for hiding his widened eyes and agape mouth. You looked absolutely ravishing, the black fabric clinging to all the right places on your figure.  His eyes roved over the valley of your chest, the curve of your hips, the length of your legs, and his hands balled into fists, just aching to hold you.  It’s as if your skin was begging to be touched.  

You cleared your throat, feeling incredibly exposed and wondering what in the blazes Mando was looking at because you were certain you looked absolutely ridiculous.  The noise shook him out of whatever daze he was in and he quickly shifted his gaze.  

“Not a word,” you warned, wobbling down the platform.  As bad as the dress was, the heels it came with were somehow worse.  “I feel ridiculous.”

“You shouldn’t,” he answered a little too quickly. “You look…” words were lost on him as he tried to find the right one.  One that wouldn’t make it obvious that he was losing his kriffing mind in front of you.  “Good,” he finally decided on, and mentally kicked himself for it.  Good?

You gave him an exasperated look.  “I know you’re just being nice.”

He opened his mouth to argue but was interrupted by an ill-timed fit of babbling from the kid.  You had bent down as best you could to give him a little pat on the head and he could feel a lump forming in his throat.  

Mando couldn’t express how much he didn’t want you to do this.  And well, he tried.  The whole way back to the ship, in fact.  But for some reason you were completely hell-bent on doing this for him, and he didn’t know how to explain that you and your safety meant more to him than a few thousand credits.  

The reality was, Mando wanted you.  He never thought he’d be so fond for someone besides the Child, but you were the exception.  And even though he wanted to make you his, he knew it would be selfish of him to pursue you, to claim you, when he couldn’t give you everything you deserved; his Creed prevented him from doing so.  

But Mando was a greedy man, so he took what he could get.  He drank up all the kindness you so freely gave him, like a parched soul wandering in the desert, and cherished every little moment the two of you shared. They probably meant nothing to you, but they were everything to him.  And he wanted more.

Not only was he a greedy man, but a stingy one as well.  The thought of anyone other than him seeing you in that dress was enough to send his thoughts into a jealous frenzy.  

“You don’t have to do this,” he tried to reason again.  

You placed a gentle hand on the soft spot between his pauldron and neck and offered a small smile.  “Don’t worry, Mando.  Everything will be fine.”        

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Everything was, in fact, not fine.  

The night had started well enough.  After all of Mando’s failed attempts at dissuading you again, he had finally resigned to silently stewing in his disapproval rather than voicing it.  

You entered the bar while he stayed behind and watched closely from the outside.  He had given you a comms device, that, with the push of a button, would let him know you were alone with the bounty and it was time for him to step in.  

“Just press it, and I will be right there,” he assured, his gloved fingers pressing the device firmly into your bare palm. Something about the protective tone of his voice stirred something in you.  You nodded before looking away, trying to ignore your racing heart.  

The bar was rowdy that night, patrons hooting and howling from the booze.  The smell of stale spice and death sticks wafted in the air, making you wrinkle your nose.  Your newfound bartender friend had waved you over, pointing out the target with a nod of his head.  

Your eyes fell on a Pantoran man across the bar with a drink in his hand, dozens of black suits surrounding him.  His associates—a Rodian and another Pantoran—seemed to all be talking business.  The bartender wasn’t kidding about this guy’s security.

How the hell am I supposed to get this guy’s attention?  You desperately racked your head for subtle ideas but came to a halt when his eyes met yours.  Kriff, he had caught you staring.  So much for subtle.  Trying not to panic, you flashed your best coy smile before turning back towards the bar.

Somehow, that was enough to give him the courage to approach you.  

Cocky bastard, you thought as he swaggered on up to you, leaning in close, leering.  With his chiseled features and striking yellow markings, you would’ve called him handsome— if you didn’t already know what a sleazebag he was.  An air of arrogance surrounded him, the type that made him think he could get whatever he wanted with a flash of those pearly whites. Typical douche.  You wanted to smack him for being so close.  

Instead, you flashed another winning smile. Placing a hand on his shoulder, you leaned in close and with a breathy whisper of, ‘Let’s get out of here’ he was tossing credits to the bartender and signaling to his guards that he was leaving with you.  

The Weequay had shot you a knowing look as he watched you leave; a warning.  You assured him that everything was fine with a slight nod of your head.      

The asshole had his arm snaked around you, hand on your ass, as you made your way to the motel just across the street.  You fought back the urge to throttle him, instead fawning about how, ‘I can’t wait to be alone with you, darling.’    

Your hands began to clam up as he retrieved the keys from the clerk, and you tried to convince yourself that everything would be fine once you clicked the button on your comm from the inside of the room.

Wrong.  

Immediately after the Pantoran locked the door, the unease in your stomach began to grow.  Bile rose in your throat at his grinning face, the way he fidgeted and licked his lips as he pressed you into the wall.  A hand landed on your bare thigh, trailing dangerously high, where you shuddered in disgust at the feeling.  

“We’re gonna have so much fun,” he whispered, and that was your cue to press the comms device you were desperately clutching in your small purse.  Your mistake was failing to mask the faint beeping noise it emitted.  Your companion stiffened at the sound, pressing you further into the wall.  

“What the hell did you just do?” he growled, using the other hand to rip your arm from your purse.  He stared at the comms device with contempt, before turning his attention back to me.  “You bi—”

He never got to finish, because the next thing you knew your Mandalorian was crashing through the door, blaster in hand.

The scene Mando had walked in on nearly made him sick.  That osi’kovid’s hands all over you, and worst of all, the look of pure fear on your face after being made.  He’d planned to put a quick end to the whole ordeal, but the bounty had plans of his own.

Mando rushed him, shoving him into the wall and away from you.  As expected, the Pantoran went flying before crumpling onto the floor.  What Mando hadn’t been expecting was for him to be armed. He didn’t peg him as the type to get his hands dirty.  

The Mandalorian was about to release the fibercord whip from his vambrace when the bounty rose from the floor with a sneer, a small combat knife in hand as he lunged at Mando, before wrestling him to the floor and sending his blaster skittering.  

You watched in frozen horror as the two fought for the upper hand. At one point, the bounty had tried to charge at you, slashing wildly, but Mando was already there blocking his blows. The knife caught on the cowl above his chest, slicing the skin underneath with a sickening noise.  That seemed to kick your brain into overdrive, and you dived for the fallen blaster on the ground.  

You took a steadying breath before you aimed and shot once, twice, at the bounty’s leg.  He cried out from his place above Mando before clutching his leg and finally falling over.

Mando rose and immediately released the fibercord, imprisoning the bounty.  He held his hand out for his blaster, and you watched with wide eyes as he smacked the butt of it into the Pantoran’s face once, twice, three times.  The third time ended with an appalling crack, his head lolling forward, and leaving him unconscious.  

You stared as Mando stood in front of the bounty, seething.  You could have sworn his hands were shaking.      

“Stars, Mando, your neck,” you murmured, breathless.  The room was dim, but you could see the dark stain of blood that was beginning to drench his cowl.  Your hands went to inspect the wound, but he quickly brushed you off.  

“We need to go,” he grunted, gathering the rope and heading towards the back entrance of the room.  The two of you hadn’t exactly been quiet and the bounty’s guards were bound to notice their boss had been gone for too long.  When you had opened your mouth to argue, to insist that you needed to check his injuries, he was already out the door.

Adrenaline still coursed through your veins as you walked back towards the ship.  You pulled your arms tight across your body in an attempt to quell your trembling hands; guilt, bubbling up in your stomach as you replayed the events of the night in your head.  

You had been the one to volunteer yourself for the mission.

You were the one who had repeatedly insisted that everything would be fine.  

And now, your Mandalorian was bleeding profusely from a nasty wound on his neck.  

“Mando,” you pleaded, trying to keep up with him in your ridiculous heels.  Instead of acknowledging you, your words fell to deaf ears.  He was stomping his way back to the ship, the unconscious bounty in tow.  

Worry bloomed in your chest.  The wound had looked bad back at the motel, but it was as if he couldn’t even feel it.  You could hear his ragged breathing from behind; whether it was from the fight, the long walk, or the wound, you weren’t sure.  

“Mando,” you tried again, this time raising your voice as you approached the hatch of the ship.  

Nothing.

He let out another grunt as he hauled the bounty onto the ship, towards the carbon-freezing machine.  You pursed your lips, jaw clenching in his direction. You did not appreciate being ignored, especially after just half-saving his ass just moments before.

Granted, you were the one that had put him in that position, but that was besides the point.

His back was to you and you stepped closer, ready to unleash a piece of your damn mind, when you stopped.  You took in his brooding stance and clenched fists.  The tremble in his hands.  Anger seemed to roll off the Mandalorian in waves, making you falter.  

What the hell was his problem?

“Mando, can you kriffing listen to me?  I need to treat you, you have no idea if he nicked an important artery or something.  I don’t know what you’re so worked up about, but you’ve been bleeding for a few minutes now and I just need to look—” annoyance rose in you as he continued to prep the carbon machine.  “Maker, can you even hear me?”

The Mandalorian couldn’t hear you, not clearly anyways.  Blood was still rushing in his ears, his vision still tinged red.  But with another call of his name, you were finally able to get through and he suddenly whipped around.  

“He touched you,” he gritted out, seething and shaking. “That skanah had his hands all over you and I swear if I didn’t need him alive for the bounty, he’d already be dead.”  He punctuated the last word with the slam of a button on the machine.    

You took a step back, eyes wide and brows furrowed. Something warm tightened in your chest and belly.  Wh-why did he care so much?  A lump had lodged itself into your throat.  “Mando, I—I’m fine.  Alright? I’m okay,” you tried to assure.  “So, can you please calm down and let me just—"

But the Mandalorian already had his back turned again.  You threw your hands up in the air, groaning in frustration as he continued to work.  Another minute passed and with a faint whoosh, the bounty was finally set in carbonite.  

A shiver ran through your body as the cool night air blew its way into the Razor Crest, raising goosebumps on your exposed skin.  Seeing you tremble in the cold seemed to break Mando out of whatever angry stupor he was in.    

In all honesty, he hadn’t meant to ignore you, but something in him snapped back at the motel.  The image of that skanah touching you had made his blood boil, and his sole goal was to get him back to the ship and be done with it.  

“You’re… cold,” he stated, the words coming out slow and soft, like pulling them out of a dream.  You must have been freezing in that dress.    

Your head snapped up at him.  “I—what?”

“Let me get you a blanket or—” He hesitated when he saw you pinch the bridge of your nose, eyes screwed shut.  

You couldn’t believe this idiot.  

“Mando, seriously?”  Your heart and your brain were having a hard time deciding whether you should be flattered about him caring so much or pissed off because he didn’t seem to give a damn about himself.  

You chose a mix of the two.

“Mando,” you sighed, looking up at him.  “I promise you I’m fine, thank you.  Really.”  You gave him your most genuine, caring look to show you were thankful for his concern, and then quickly replaced it with a hard one.  “But if you don’t get up into that cockpit right now and let me treat you, I’m going to use that damn pulse rifle on you.”

And just like that, you had managed to dissolve the lingering traces of anger in his mind.  His lips twitched under the helmet.  “That supposed to scare me?”

You glared.  “Don’t push it.” You could have sworn he was laughing under there.

The Mandalorian would have laughed if the wound on his neck hadn’t began to ache.  Instead, he begrudgingly nodded, throwing his hands up in mock surrender before disappearing into the cockpit.  

He began to input the coordinates back to Nevarro into the navicomputer, warmth unfurling in his chest as he listened to you check on the Child.  A tiredness had begun to settle in his muscles from the fight earlier, and he grimaced as he reached for a lever on the control panel.  The pain on his neck was getting worse, and if he was being honest it burned like all hell, but he was not going to admit that to you.

The door behind him slid open and you stepped in frazzled, medkit in hand.  Even with your hair in disarray and scrapes littering your arms and legs, he thought you looked breathtaking.  

“Uh, so bad news,” you began, gesturing at the medkit.  “They didn’t have any at the market earlier, so we’re out of bacta shots and spray.  I’m gonna have to stitch it closed depending on how deep it is.”  You shot him an apologetic look.

He nodded, putting in the last of the coordinates before removing his chest plate to give you easier access, and turning his chair to face you.  You closed the space between the two of you, quickly going to work.  Careful hands began to peel away at the fabric stuck to the wound, a hiss of pain at the tip of his tongue as you ripped off the last of it.

“Sorry,” you whispered, inspecting the fabric before discarding it.  “You’re definitely gonna need a new cape.”

He shrugged.  “At least now you’ve got a new blanket.”  You always had a habit of curling up into all his old stuff.  

With a smile, you returned your focus to the task at hand, mentally sighing in relief as you began to clean the wound.  It could have been worse, but it was still very deep.  An inch to the left and just a smidge higher, and you would have had quite the problem on your hands.  

“Idiot,” you muttered.

“What was that?”

“Lucky,” you corrected, biting back a smirk.  “You got lucky.  Any higher and this would be a lot messier.”  You tossed the last of the gauze out and prepared the needle and thread.

Mando took in your awkward stance as you tried to bend down and begin stitching.  Standing was fine for when you were cleaning, but for something this intricate it wasn’t the best position.  You cursed and tried again, trying to get the angle right, but it was no use.  The thought left his mouth before he even had a chance to filter it.  

“You can sit on me if that’s easier.”

Heat blazed on your cheeks at his words, nearly dropping the damn needle.  “Oh—um—” Coherent thoughts didn’t seem to be forming in your head at the moment.

Panic flooded the Mandalorian’s brain as he took in your shocked expression and realized his mistake.  “I—well, not like that—what I meant was���” he spluttered, trying to find the right words, thankful that his helmet hid his mortified expression.          

“No, no it’s okay I—I know what you meant,” you managed to choke out after picking your jaw up off the floor.  It would have been comical—the certain and capable bounty hunter struggling to regain his composure—but his words had flooded your mind with some less than innocent thoughts and images, ones that left you heated and flustered.  You swallowed hard in an attempt to relieve your suddenly very dry throat.  “I can, if you’re okay with it?”

He slowly nodded, mentally kicking himself for being so daft.  He held his breath as you stepped closer, bracing a hand low on his chest as you perched yourself on his lap.  You cursed, trying to your best to maneuver yourself onto him without being inappropriate.

Finally, you were situated, hovering precariously over his thigh.  You breathed deep, willing your mind and body to calm down. Being in such close proximity to the Mandalorian was… dizzying, but you had a job to do.  And so, you went to work.  

A few minutes in, Mando could feel the tension rolling off your body, the tremble of your thighs as you tried to hold yourself above him.  “You can sit if you need to.”

The thought had crossed your mind, but truthfully you were afraid of how your body would react if you did. Eventually you gave in, shivering at the cold kiss of beskar on the insides of your thighs as you straddled his leg.  A knot was forming in your belly, low and warm.  

Maker, help me, you thought.

The change in position had slid your dress higher and Mando’s eyes began to wander again, taking in the exposed skin where your dress had hiked itself up, the material bunching around your hips.  His hands felt that pull again, that ache to touch you; to dig his fingers into the soft, plump flesh.  

Osik, he cursed, trying to control himself.  In his mind he conjured up the image of a blaster, mentally taking it apart and putting it back together as a pitiful attempt at a distraction.

You had fallen into a steady rhythm of stitching and knotting, your hands absentmindedly working.  The Mandalorian had fallen into a dull haze in the wake of your delicate touches, despite the sting and pull of the needle.  But when your hands brushed the edge of his helmet, he snapped to attention, reflexes kicking in.

A strong hand had immediately encircled your wrist, forcefully locking it in place.  Your breath seized at the realization of your colossal fuck-up.  How could you be so stupid?

“Shit, shit, I—I’m sorry,” you stammered out.  “Mando, I—I promise I wasn’t going to take it off, I just needed to adjust it to get the needle under.”  Your heart thundered against your chest, and you swear you could hear it in the empty silence of the cockpit.  The iron-clad grip he had on your wrist was starting to hurt, biting into your skin.  

Mando saw the flash of fear in your eyes, the way you had flinched at his touch and loosened the grip on your hand.  Regret began to bubble up inside him.  He opened his mouth to apologize, it had just been his instincts, but you beat him to it.  Your next words caught him off guard.  

“Do you trust me?”

He swallowed hard. Of course he did.  There was no question about it.  You were the one constant in his life besides the kid; the one he found he could rely on time and time again for anything. You had never betrayed him, in Creed or otherwise.  He took a steadying breath before answering.  “Yes.”

You tried to ignore the burst of warmth in your chest at his admission and what it implied. Instead, you nodded, slowly allowing yourself to move again and continue your care.  “Lean back,” you whispered and he obliged, fully baring his neck to you. It was a vulnerable position, but the cautious movements of your hands crushed any anxiety that threatened to well up in him.

And maybe it was that cautious, careful touch that had begun to wear down his walls; the tenderness you so freely gave that softened his heart and opened him up.  He wanted to make up the last minute to you, to show that he really did trust you.  Maybe that’s why he couldn’t stop the next thing that tumbled out of his mouth.

“Din.”

You paused mid-stitch, confusion flickering on your face.  “What’d you say?”

His heart felt like it was going to fly out of his ribcage.  “My name.  It’s Din.”

Confusion slowly morphed to shock at his revelation.  He had just shared his name with you; something incredibly personal and dear to him. Knowing it felt… intimate.  How many people actually knew his real name? You couldn’t stop that slow smile that had begun to spread on your face.  

“Din,” you repeated, hushed as if someone else would hear.  His heart skipped at the sound of his name on your lips; the soft way your voice curled around the short syllable.  Your eyes peered into his through the visor of his helmet, a question behind them. “Just ‘Din’?”

“Din Djarin,” he corrected.  

You repeated it again, delight clear on your face.  “I like it.”

I do too, he thought.  Especially when you say it.  “You can use it whenever, as long as we’re alone or it’s just the kid.”

“Of course,” you nodded, then added a soft, “Thank you.”  For trusting me.

The two of you had settled back into a comfortable silence, his hands resting comfortably on your hips, and Din couldn’t fathom why you kept biting back a smile.  You were the first to break it.  

“I’m sorry, for all this.”

“It’s fine, it’s not that painful.”  

You shook your head.  “No, I mean—” you gestured at his neck and then to you. “He was aiming for me.”

He scoffed.  “You’re out of your mind if you think I’d let anything happen to you.” You could hear the anger beginning to simmer beneath his words again.  “No, I… I would protect you every single time.  Besides, that osi’yaim got what he deserved in the end.”  

Your eyes flicked to his visor again and you tried to ignore the way the knot in your belly tightened at his promise to you and the shiver his low voice sent down your spine.  Instead, you tried to change the subject.  “Osi’yaim?”

“A useless, despicable person.  A waste of space.”

A soft laugh escaped you lips.  “You need to teach more Mando’a.  Something besides the bad words.”

Din’s heart clenched at your request. Something about you asking to learn his language stirred something deep in him.  “Of course,” he managed to reply, but it came out more strangled than he had meant it to.    

You continued with your task, getting lost in the repeated movements of your fingers.

Watching you work had always fascinated Din.  You granted each injury the same amount of attention, whether it was as small as a papercut or as big as the gash he had now.  It was endearing.  The meticulous way you ensured every stitch, every bandage, was perfect and in place. The adept movements of your fingers, steady with every touch.  The way you bit your lip and furrowed your brow as you concentrated.  

He was captivated by it, and you, every time.

His gaze was concealed by his helmet most of the time, but tonight you could feel the weight of his eyes on you.  Your cheeks began to burn at the thought of him staring at you so closely and you thanked the maker that he couldn’t see the crimson hue painting your face.  

“Are you warm?” he asked, the low rumble of his voice startling you.  

“What?”

“You’ve been shivering since you started, but… you’re all flushed,” he explained.

Your eyes widened at his words, heart stopping.  “Wait—how can you see my—”

“Heat sensors.” Din couldn’t help but notice the way the heat on your face spread even more, down the soft slopes of your neck and chest.

Of course, heat sensors.  You were absolutely mortified, a nervous laugh erupting from your chest.  May as well be honest.  

“No, not warm, more like embarrassed,” you tried to explain, unable to meet his eyes.  

Din tilted his head, trying to understand.  “Why?”

You scoffed.  “’Cause I just realized I’ve been sticking my ugly mug in your face for the past 20 minutes.”      

Din was dumbfounded.  Ugly? The mere thought of you seeing yourself in that way made his heart ache.  How could you think such a thing when he saw you as the most radiant thing in this galaxy?  That, every time he saw you, he had to remind himself to breathe?

He had no idea what the in blazes he was doing, but he knew that he couldn’t let you go on thinking such things about yourself.  Din reached out and tilted your chin up towards him, making you meet his eyes.  

“Cyar’ika, you are the furthest thing from ugly that someone could be.  I—you are absolutely stunning.  Do you—do you know what seeing you in that dress tonight did to me?” he confessed, letting out a breathy laugh.  The front of his pants tightened in reminder.  “I’ll teach you something new in Mando’a right now.”  He paused, letting his fingers brush over your chin. “Mesh’la.”

It felt like you were on fire at that point, burning under his gaze, but somehow you found your voice underneath all the flames.  “What does it mean?” you breathed, unable to mask the tremble in your voice.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. “You’re beautiful.”    

Your body betrayed you, melting into a puddle with just a taste of his touch and the boldness of his words.  It was a devastating effect, and there was no denying the dampness that had pooled between your legs now.  You managed to stutter out a, ‘thank you’ before trying to finish the last knot of his stitches.

“All done,” you whispered.    

Din watched as you admired your handiwork and noticed that you made no move to remove yourself from him.  Instead, your hands were softly dragging across the planes of his exposed chest, leaving a trail of fire wherever they went.  It was such a foreign feeling, flesh against flesh on such a shielded part of his body.  He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched him there, let alone so gently.  

A strangled sound caught in his throat as you brushed over a particularly sensitive spot, just above the other side of his collarbone.  It was almost too much, the shot of electricity that singed his nerves, but it felt good.

His body involuntarily bucked at the sensation and his hands gripped your hips roughly, pressing you flush against him.  

You gasped at the sensation, of your clothed core dragging against the beskar plate on his thigh, your knee brushing against the bulge that had tented his pants.  Your hands scrabbled to find something, anything, to anchor yourself from the blinding pleasure that fizzled through you.

“Maker,” Din murmured, letting out a shuddering breath.  “Osik, cyar’ika, I’m didn’t mean to touch you like that but—”

“But what if I want you to?” your own voice sounding foreign to your ears.  You did not miss the way his breath hitched, caught in the modulator of his helmet.  

Din’s mind was reeling. “You—you want me to?” he swallowed thickly around the ball of shock that was caught in his throat.  

And you’re nodding, eyes dark and body and mind clouded with need, leading his hands up your torso and chest; but Din, he needs to hear you say it.  “Use your words, cyar’ika.  I need to hear you.”

“Yes, Din.  Please,” and that’s enough to dissolve any shred of self-control he thought he had.  The sound of you saying his name like that, a plea for him and only him, was maddening.  

His hands were on you in an instant; hands that you had seen nearly beat a man to death just for touching you, but on you they were soft, gentle.  Desperate, but tender.  Rough, but passionate and loving.  The contrast was making your head spin.  

“Din,” you whimpered. “You have to be careful, your cut—”

“I don’t care,” he rasped.  “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to touch you?  Make you mine?”  He pulled you closer against him, hands grasping at anything he could reach.  He wanted to erase any trace of the bounty from your presence.

You tried to answer, but you were a mess, filling the cockpit with soft moans and mewls as you bucked your hips on his thigh.  

“I want to watch you make yourself feel good, can you do that?  Just like this?”  You frantically bobbed your head.  “Good,” he answered, stroking your cheek.  “You deserve it after tonight, sweet girl.”

The sound of ‘sweet girl’ sent wet heat straight to your core.  If anything, you thought he was the one that deserved to be taken care of right now.  But you were not about to argue with the Mandalorian who insisted on you using him to get yourself off.    

Your hands pawed at his chest again, struggling to find some kind of purchase to anchor yourself. They finally settled for his biceps, nails digging deep.  He watched as you grinded down on his thigh, eyes screwed shut.  His hands fingered the strap of your dress and you nodded, giving him permission to slide it down.  

Din took in the sight of your bare chest, your nipples pebbling in the cold air of the cockpit. He ached to take them into his mouth, hear you whimper and moan against his tongue, but he settled for brushing his gloved fingers over them and watching you arch.  

You ground down harder, desperate you get the friction you needed.  Din’s hands slipped from your breasts down back to your hips, stilling them.  A high whine escaped your throat and it was almost pitiful.  

“Up,” he instructed, confusion marring your face as you lifted yourself off his leg.  He gripped the thigh plate and dropped it to the ground, promptly setting you back onto his thigh.  “Wanna feel you,” he growled, and you could only moan in response.  

Soon enough, your arousal had seeped through your panties and onto the fabric of his pants.  The heady smell hit his nose and his mouth watered, desperate to know what you tasted like, to know what sounds you would make if he buried his face between your thighs.  

You guided his hands back up your chest, up to your neck.  His fingers cupped your face again, thumb brushing the bottom of your lip. You held his hand in place, biting the leather tip of his glove and slowly slid it off, letting it drop between you.

The feeling of his bare thumb resting on your lips sent another wave of arousal through you.  “Wanna feel you,” you breathed, grinning before taking his thumb into your mouth and sucking hard.  Din’s eyes rolled back and he groaned; the sight of your hollowed-out cheeks and the sensation of your tongue on the pad of his thumb nearly sent him over the edge.  

One hand trailed to the base of your neck, tangling itself softly in your hair.  He took in the way your eyes were screwed shut, the furrow in your brows as you chased your high.  You had taken your bottom lip between your teeth, biting hard and almost splitting it from the pressure.  It was almost the same concentrated expression you wore as you tended to his injuries, though it was clear you were concentrated on something far more rewarding now.  

“Mesh’la,” he commanded.  “Look at me.”

You wretched your eyes open, fixing your gaze on him.  

Din watched, enraptured, as you continued to pleasure yourself.  You were a sight before him; pupils blown, mouth agape, chest heaving as you tried to ease the ache in your belly.  He was lost in the way your eyes sparkled, perfectly matching the dark galaxy you were set against just outside the viewport.  

Your moans filled the cockpit, desperate sounds and pleads of Din’s name as he sent delicious licks of pleasure throughout your body.  You held on for dear life, panting as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

He feels the tension simmering from your shuddering figure, like a coil just waiting to spring.

“Are you close, mesh’la?” he whispered, his words and the rasp of his voice sending you higher and higher.  “Are you going to come for me?”

And you’re a wreck, whimpering and pleading, yes, Din, yes; and all Din can think is he can die happy knowing how you moan his name.  He shifts you, pulls you right onto the straining bulge in his pants and you both gasp, the sensation pulling you even closer to your orgasm.  A bare hand snakes between where the two of you are pressed against each other and he presses right onto your clit.  

A sob tears from your throat and stars burst behind your eyes as you’re pushed off the edge; and you’re falling, waves of ecstasy washing over you and burning straight to your toes. Din holds you close as your body continues to shudder, a steady hand on your back coaxing you down from your high. He lets out a groan when he feels evidence of your orgasm seep through to his clothed cock.    

Fog clouds the bottom of his helmet as you softly pant, the pleasure lulling to a dull thrum in your veins. He’s admiring your sleepy eyes, the flushed cheeks of your afterglow.  You give off a shy smile, peering into his visor.  “Beautiful,” he murmurs right next to your ear.  “Just like I said.” 

“Thank you,” you hum, pressing a searing kiss onto his bare neck and sliding a hand over the hardness trapped beneath you.  

Din hisses at your touch and you laugh, trying to ease the ache between his own legs.  “Mesh’la,” he warns, grunting at the loss of contact as you lift yourself off him and slide between his knees, kneeling.  

“Yes?” you respond, sliding your hands up and down his thighs, and pausing at the button of his pants.

“You don’t have to—” he starts, but you quickly cut him off.

“But I want to, Din,” you assured.  You rest your head on his knee, peering up at him with wide, innocent eyes, awaiting his permission.  “Wanna return the favor, wanna taste you,” and you grin at the strangled sound that leaves his throat.  He couldn’t deny you even if he wanted to.  

Finally, he nods, spreading his legs wider to accommodate you.  Your smile grows and your nimble fingers make quick work of the buttons on his pants.  You’re just about to free him from the confines of his boxers when an alarm signal sounds from the ship, startling the both of you.  

“Come in, Mando,” Greef Karga’s voice crackled through the small room.  “We’ve got a problem.  I repeat, we’ve got an emergency, please come in.”

Din groans and you throw an exasperated look towards the comms on the control panel.  “Just ignore him, it can’t be that—” and you’re cut off by another sound.

The unmistakable sound of a baby crying.  

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, pressing your forehead into Din’s knee.  You loved that little green bean to death, but damn him for his horrific timing.  Din softly slid his hand over yours and you looked up.  

“It’s alright, cyar’ika,” he hummed.  “Go check on him,” and you slowly nodded, shooting him an apologetic look before rising from your spot on the floor.

Din watched in mild amusement as you wobbled to the door, before turning his chair towards the control panel and sighing.  His own arousal was almost overwhelming, but he did his best to shove it to the back of his mind.  

Whatever Greef needed, it had better be good, he grumbled in his head.  

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

mando’a translations:

osi’kovid – shithead

skanah – very hated person, fucker

osik – shit

osi’yaim – cowardly, useless person

cyar’ika – darling, beloved

mesh’la – beautiful

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

thank you for reading! let me know what ya think!

[ererokii]

— broken strings and beautiful melodies

diluc r. x f!reader

Word Count: 9.6k Warnings: major character death, mentions of violence, mentions of blood, gore, this does not follow the og plot and lore/ some spoilers for “We Will be Reunited” Archon Quest Note: this is for Attack On Academia’s Mythology Summer Collab! Please be sure to check out the masterlist for everyone else’s works. They all worked super hard and it turned out amazing! And big thanks to @reddriot and @axther for betaing <3

Synopsis: A simple love story between the Pyro Archon, and a mortal.

taglist || masterlist || server link || collab masterlist

Another four days pass and it’s finally Friday. Fridays at Angel’s Share were no different from the ones prior. Exhausted adventurers and townspeople venture inside the tavern to drink their woes away, to forget, or to have a great time. It was annoying, to say the least—hearing the laughter and cheers bouncing off the walls.

However, Diluc had to say nothing was worse than a certain pigtail braided bard strutting in with his lyre. The redhead had no choice but to serve the bard his choice of drinks after figuring out his true identity (although he still makes him pay the whole total—even if the singer can’t find a way to pay). 

Like before, the bartender lifts his head up, crimson eyes boring into the crowd gathering beside the bard at the nearby table. 

The bard’s soft voice matches with the melody of his lyre, fingers pulling and gracefully sliding past the strings. His eyes closed, telling a story to the nearby peers and the quiet man standing behind the counter. A tale Diluc heard once, yet it weighed on him all the same.

“The story of this archon is no better than the rest, yet, the most tragic comes from the debris of war. The god of War was like no other. Loads of strength, yet grief and sorrows weigh him down like an anchor in the vast ocean. Love is a mere factor, yet love is one of the many things the god brought ruin to.”

-

With heavy footsteps, a red-haired male walks along the dirt path in no shoes, wearing the silkiest of robes one could ever obtain. He hums to himself, brushing a loose strand of hair away from his face, letting out a huff of annoyance when it falls right back into the same position as before. 

He breathes in the crisp air of the summer night, relishing the winds that brush across his skin. Summers in Natlan were one of a kind. While it was scorching in the morning, when the night came around, all was calm. The harsh rays turned into blissful winds that cleansed the land of heat. 

During the other seasons, it was never too cold, nor was it ever too hot. The temperature was just right for all men, women and children. 

Located in the southwestern region of Teyvat, Natlan was home to the Pyro Archon, known as The God of War. The god, Murata, is unlike any other god. Ruthless and fierce, he does not handle any threat lightly. Anything thrown his way, he does not hesitate. With kindness and love, Murata will no doubt protect his nation.

His statues are scattered across the land. Standing with his formal rags and cloak that shields his face, Murata holds his claymore in his right hand, the tip pointing down to symbolize his foes beneath him as he celebrates in victory.

In the night sky, his statues act like lights to guide those on safe journeys home or to neighboring nations. Along with being guides, the structures are used for a place of reverence. Often many would journey far and wide to pay thanks for everything he has done. 

In the center lies the biggest of them all, flowers and candles are set up around it for ceremonial purposes. Every night new plants were replaced for the days to come. Like the other Archons, Murata was grateful for his people. When roaming the land, he spots commoners on their knees by the base of the statue during the late of night or the crack of dawn. Not wanting to disturb, the archon watches from afar. 

Today is different. Murata continues to walk along the path, listening to the noises coming from the forest animals and the creeks as the waters begin to rush at this hour of the night. He can’t help but let out the faintest of hums at the sounds of nature. 

He reaches for the side of his face, tucking a red strand behind his ear. Often the god will put his hair up into a low or high ponytail, but for outings in the cool atmosphere, he prefers to wear it down. His powers were compared to his hair many times. When describing his appearance, he listens to the children exaggerate saying his hair is literal flames that he can produce from the palm of his hands. Of course, this is nowhere near true, but a child’s imagination is quite amusing. 

In the distance, his crimson hues bore straight ahead at the small flickering light. 

“Someone must be up now,” he whispers to himself, debating on leaving them alone but instead, chooses to go up ahead and observe from a closer proximity. Muratans knew what their god looked like. He comes out during the day to pay visits but never for long periods of time. 

As quick as they see him, it's as quick as they’ll see him leave. No one can ever hold his attention for too long. 

The sound of strings being played can be heard from his spot-- and he halts. A lyre, one of his favorite pastimes and favorite instruments. 

Over the hill is a figure sitting beside the statue, back turned to him but he can see the movement of their arm. Curious, Murata continues to stalk forward quietly, not wanting to disturb the worshipper. 

The melody played is show-stopping in his eyes. He wonders if Celestia had sent down someone he was unaware of to play this just for him, and only him. If anything, he could settle on the grass and listen to them play for ages on end, wearying his immortal days out. Music was the only thing that could settle him, but not forever. 

Now, he's a mere few steps away from the cloaked figure. His face is lit up by the candles by his feet. His tongue peeks out of his lips as an unknown feeling bursts through his body. His palms felt sweaty and his heart rate increased. 

He winces when the wrong note is played, gritting his teeth together. The redhead doesn’t think much until a force pushes him backward.

“W-Why are you standing there watching me?! Don’t you know this place is meant for us to come together, not to be creepy like you just were right now?!”

“W-What?” he whispers in surprise, bringing a hand to cover his nose that suddenly feels wet. He pulls away, noticing the red drops on his skin. Blood.

“Don’t question me that way! You know exactly what you were doing…  A pig is what you are. Oh, just you wait until Murata finds out about this.”

“Murata huh?” he questions, wiping his hand on the grass, watching the blood dissolve into nothing-- the red trails of blood trickling down his nose come to an unsuspecting halt.

He clears his throat and comes to stand, staring down at the figure behind him. With the candlelight, a glimpse of crimson eyes and matching hair can be seen. In a matter of seconds, it's silent. Until there is a subtle gasp.

It amuses the Archon greatly to see a change in behavior and the fear present in the civilian's eyes. He wouldn’t dare try anything to her, but maybe it would lighten the mood if he did.

With desperate breaths of air, you reach forward and grab ahold of the man's hands, squeezing as hard as you could. ���M-My Lord, I deeply apologize for my behavior! Please forgive me! I was foolish!”

“No need to be formal all of a sudden…mistakes are made and all can be forgiven. I must say, you are quite gifted with that instrument in your hand.”

Your face heats up, suddenly finding the ground much more interesting than him as you gaze down. Your god had just complimented you and yet here you are losing the composure you had seconds ago. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, hand clutching the lyre close to your chest. “It’s an honor to hear such wonderful words, especially coming from you.”

Murata stares down, an unexplainable look upon his face. Then, he smiles. 

“Your name?”

“Pardon?”

“What is your name? As someone as gifted as you, I think you deserve to have your name remembered.”

“My name is Y/N. For some reason, your kind words seem to boost my confidence. I normally don’t play in front of people, I’m too shy and afraid of their judgement. I only like to play in front of the statue… or in this case, you.”

“How about you play for me again?”

-

The angelic sounds of your lyre had been played more often since you’ve met the god. The night was when you shined, when no one was around to listen or stare at you. The dark sky made you feel alone, yet you were at peace. You found pleasure in playing for the Pyro Archon statue, yet having him sitting beside you and listening made your heart beat just a bit more than before.

During the day, you find yourself sitting under the big oak trees, the sunlight peeking through the leaves and shining upon you two. Murata lays close to you, eyes shut and lashes resting against his upper cheeks as the song lulls him to a quick nap or a state of serenity. 

He’ll comment on a subtle note, saying how he loves the pitch, or give recommendations. Many times Murata has taken your instrument and played a tune or two for you. He says every gentleman should at least know how to serenade a lady.

As a child, your family spoke highly of him. They even used him as a threat against you when you’ve done something wrong. Now that you look back, it was a mere hoax and it possibly scarred you just a bit. When you first told Murata this, he stared with his lower lip quivering before his shoulders started to shake and then, he let out a laugh. 

“Surely you didn’t believe that, right?”

“I did! I was a child, what else was I supposed to do?! I nearly wet my sheets when my mother told me that you would come and scare me!”

“Well come on now, are you still scared?”

He enjoys seeing you worked up—then again, he loves seeing you play the lyre. He stays quiet and watches your fingers move as if they had a mind of their own. You move with grace, without hesitation. There is no wrong note, no wrong string when you play. Sometimes being here with you in this moment made him feel like he was mortal. Like he was able to live freely.

Being bound to divinity in Celestia, Murata had wandered Teyvat for ages, alone. Each person he had gotten close to, he had to watch them disappear from this world in the shadows. At some point, he even had to pretend to be lost so others could forget about him. If they forgot about Murata, would the load be easier on the Pyro Archon’s shoulder?

But now, you’re aware of his status and who he truly is. If you were to stay by his side, would he be the last thing you see before you pass into the next life? He’s not sure, but he’s hoping that won’t be true. He couldn’t bear with the guilt that will get him worked once more at the thought of another mortal dying in front of his eyes. 

“Murata?” you ask one afternoon, sitting by the same statue you met him for the first time. “What’s it like?”

He steers his gaze away from the clouds and onto you, an eyebrow raised in question. “What is what like?”

“You know—” you start, messing with the material of your dress, head lowered. “Being a god?”

And then he freezes. Out of all the questions you could have possibly asked, this one had to be the most unexpected. 

“Why do you wish to know something like that?”

“I want to know what it’s like. Immortality and eternal beauty sound pretty amazing, doesn’t it?”

“No,” he immediately states, sitting upright. His body looks tense, posture perfect and hands in his lap. However, you notice the small twitch in his fingers, as if he’s thinking. You can hear the heaviness in his breathing—lips parted as the air slips in and out of his mouth.

How can living on this earth for years on end, watching people die in front of you like they are meaningless, be perfect? Is that what people thought about immortality? The faces of past friends from ages ago are nothing but a blob of color in his mind. He can’t remember their faces, nor their voices—only the memories they have shared, and even that is starting to fade away.

Murata cleared his throat, eyes fluttering shut. His chest heaved up slowly, before falling at the same rate. Soon, he opens his eyes and faces you. He reaches up and tightens his high ponytail, running his fingers through the red tresses. “The life of an immortal is not...ideal.”

“There comes a time where living forever is not as good as it seems. A human like yourself might think differently since there is an end to everyone’s journey. Death is inevitable for a human, and almost all are afraid of the end itself. Even… I am afraid there will be a time I will be cursed with that end. But for now, that’s something that rarely crosses my mind..”

And he continues. Murata proceeds to tell you about the drawbacks of being a God. When he speaks, you can see pain flash across his eyes as he recalls a memory of a loving friend who passed before him. He tells you there’s no avoiding this never ending nightmare. If there was a way he could overcome this spell of immortality, he would choose mortal life in an instant. 

He believes nothing good comes with this. In his eyes, everything gets destroyed by his hands. If he hadn’t created this nation, he wouldn’t be here with you, nor would he have people at his feet who love and worship him for everything—for giving them a home. He would be a traveler with no home, or loved ones.

The Archon doesn’t realize how much of his thoughts he spilled until he feels the warmth of another—your hand resting upon his cheek. This alerts him as he jolts, eyes wide as he stares at you. You wear a small smile, head cocked to the side. Your thumb moves on its own, wiping the tear away that dribbles down the swell of his face. 

His body relaxes, shoulders slouching as he relishes your touch, not having been caressed by another, let alone a human. If he’s being honest, it's been at least a century since he has gotten close to another mortal. It’s a foreign feeling, but he loves it nonetheless.

Your soft spoken words are enough for him to be at ease. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to continue through the suffering.”

In a vulnerable state, the tears continue to flow down his face, arms slithering around your body as he pulls you in close. At first the motion shocks you, but soon you return the action, hand resting on the small of his back and by his head, stroking the soft locks. You can hear the faint sobs that escape his lips and it’s strange. From stories, they state Murata was fierce, barely any emotion in him.

But he looks nothing more than a broken man in need of comfort. 

You press your lips against his head, humming softly to him. His arms tighten around you, a shaky breath slipping past. As much as Murata hates this feeling, but after being alone for as long as Teyvat had been founded, he thinks he deserves to be this close to someone again.

After moments of silence, the god is positioned beside you, hand resting on your thigh and head on your shoulder. His eyes feel heavy, the area feeling irritated and scratchy from his crying. As much as the thoughts still swirl in his head, they seem to be drowned out by the melody you play for him.

He lazily draws organic shapes with the pad of his finger on your skin, eyes beginning to close. 

Your lyre is one of the few beautiful things he has come across in his lifetime. You currently hold the number one spot for the most beauty he has seen but when you sit with your instrument, he swears he can see the wings of an angel behind you. 

He steers his gaze from the lyre to your face, eyes taking in the small details of your visage. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he notices the slip of your tongue peek from your lips, eyebrows creasing in concentration. Along with the melodies, he listens to your small hums as you play a song just for him-- one of worship and love.

His hand runs up your arm, halting your movements at once. Eyes opening, you stare forward for a second before looking down upon him. He recognises your confusion and lets out a laugh, hand trailing up before his thumb rests on your chin, making you keep your gaze on him.

Your face heats up at this interaction, mouth parted. Your breathing becomes uneven when you notice the close proximity. Your stomach flutters, the back of your throat suddenly going dry—no words able to slip through. His chest rises and falls just as quick as your own. 

His tongue peeks through, licking his lower lip. His crimson hues stare at your lips before averting his gaze to your eyes. As much as it’s tempting, now is not the right time.

“Beautiful,” he whispers quietly, for your ears only. “So beautiful… like an angel sent down from the divine...”

- The lyre, made of nature’s resources and carved into the most adoring shapes—the ends curving in different directions and a piece of excess wood piercing straight through the middle with a pointed tip and a rounded end. Made for the best, the lyre contains seven strings that seem to glow throughout the day and the night. 

In the middle, an emerald gem shines embedded on the wood, reflecting the rays of the sun, sparkling for all to see. Around lies the detail of the sun, the soft yellows encircling it. And just beneath that is gold details that resemble the wings of those who are free. Two flowers that are foreign to the land of Natlan are delicately engraved—their colors showing pure innocence.

The Cecilia flowers stay in bloom, never once dying out. Nor has any other grown in their place.

A perfect instrument, one of elegance and purity. Perfect for you. 

The origins of said lyre are unknown, yet when it was given to you as a young child, you didn’t dare question it. Instead, you took it with the biggest grin and thanked your father as many times as you could. You were intelligent and extremely talented. At first, your mother was skeptical of such an object being in the possession of an nine year old, but your father assured it was in safe hands. 

Since then, it’s been by your side to this day. It’s never been out of your grasp and you only let certain trusted people play it. For some reason, seeing others hold the instrument made you feel weird. 

Playing your gift made you feel like you were above the world, like you could ascend to Celestia and play for the gods. It felt as if some sort of divine power surged through your veins and riled you up. And now at the ripe age of 24, having the Pyro Archon by your side as you play for him daily, it feels as if your purpose of living has been complete. 

Seeing his soft smile and slight nods he gives when he's impressed (which is all the time) or when he places his hand on yours to play along with you. Having him close to you makes you feel warm, excited and giddy; almost like a young girl in love.

Which... You won’t lie to yourself about that. 

There have been times during the day where you catch yourself thinking about the red head. Thoughts of him swirl your head as you drift off to sleep and he’s the first thing you think about in the morning. Sometimes you notice that you make motions in the air, like you are stroking something, when in reality, you wish to have his head in your lap again as you play with the loose ends of red tresses.

The god was just so breathtaking. Staring into his eyes was mesmerizing. The color of flames held in his eyes drew you in so far, it felt as if you were walking through a pit of flames. Yet, these flames never extinguished or brought harm to you. 

“You’re lost in thought again,” Murata comments, poking your shoulder with his pointer finger. “You alright there? I don’t need you tripping over a rock or something.”

“Huh?” you ask, glancing over at him. “O-Oh it was nothing. I’m okay.” You offer a not so convincing smile, scratching the nape of your neck in embarrassment. Knowing you for a while, the god offers a nod and looks forward, his hands behind his back, steps in sync with yours.

You let your hand drop, clearing your throat as you hum, filling the silence with some noise. Your eyes wander around the area before gazing up at the tall man beside you. You take notice how the ends of his ponytail sway side to side with every step he takes.  

The apple of your cheeks heat up when you can see his back muscles flex as he straightens his posture. The shirt he wore let your imagination run wild; there was no doubt that Murta was built.

“It’s quite rude to stare,” Murata says out of nowhere, barely glancing over at you. “If you want, I can just stand in front of you so you can actually look at me face to face.”

“Oh be quiet,” you mutter, stepping forward and grabbing hold of his hand—his much larger, covering yours entirely. Upon contact, his fingers intertwined with yours, squeezing softly.

“You know I love messing with you,” he hums, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple, which you respond back to him with a quiet “I know.”

The rest of the walk is filled with comfortable silence. It’s a bit chilly in the land of Natlan. One of the many summer days that turn out to be filled with crisp air and cloudy skies. Storytellers always said if it were cloudy during the season of summer, karma and misfortune was on the way—yet no one believed such lies like that. 

His hand is so warm, you think, glancing down at your conjoined hands. Ever since that day by the giant stone statue of the god where you almost kissed him, his behavior towards you changed drastically. He’s been a bit more touchy (not that it bothered you; in fact, you loved it), holding your hand and somewhat more affectionate. At the end of your day when you would say goodbye, he would pull you close and plant a gentle kiss to your cheek or sometimes even close to your lips.

Just thinking about those actions makes you flustered, looking away from him and out to the open. 

“What do you think it means to be in love?”

Hearing those words from the man beside you causes you to choke on your saliva, hitting your chest to calm your ongoing coughs. When you’re finally composed, you gasp for air and stare at him in shock. “W-What do I think about that?”

“Mhm.” He nods, inhaling deeply, his other hand reaching up into the air as if he was stretching before lowering it. “What do you think it means to be in love? I’m curious as to what you humans think it might be.”

“I-” You gulp, eyes semi wide as you try to wrack your brain for anything. That was not a question you were expecting, especially right now. “W-Why do you want to know? Isn’t love, love?”

“Well, aren't there different ones? Can’t people be in love with parts of someone? Lets say, only being in love with someone for their status in the nation. Or just their looks but not for them. 

“Well… I think being in love with someone means you don’t care about their status or who they look or who they are.”

“Even if they’re a god?”

“Even if they’re a god.” you say confidently, before realizing what he said. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Even if they’re a god,” he repeats, stopping in his tracks as he turns to face you. His cheeks are painted with soft pink, red eyes averting from you. 

Murata’s heart is racing, far faster than it ever has in his life. HIs lips are dry, his mouth is parched. His shoulders heave with every deep breath he takes. Does the sweat of his hands bother you? God, he feels like a young boy about to confess his love to a girl he’s been pining over—although he's not completely wrong.

“Murata, what’s wrong?” you ask quietly, tilting yourself a bit to look up into his eyes as his head is lowered. “Are you okay?”

“Why are you so intoxicating?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Y-You’re all I can think of,” he stutters, squeezing his eyes shut. “I can’t get you out of my mind, even though I shouldn’t get close to those I love and care for. In the end, I’ll be here and be forced to live with this overweighting guilt that rests upon my shoulders as time continues to flow knowing that you’ll be dead.”

A hiccup gets caught in the back of his throat, his thoughts becoming foggy all of a sudden. “I don’t like this feeling. I absolutely despise it.  Many times after we hung out, I thought about disappearing again like I have before I got too close to anyone again. But I can’t let you go, nor will these memories ever go away.”

“Don’t you understand?” he whispers, hand shaking as his grip becomes tighter. “I can’t lose you… you’re too special to me already. I know there will be a day where we part ways forever but I want to be a part of your journey until then.”

His confession throws you for a loop. His words continue playing over and over in your head like a song you learned the night prior. You have this unexplainable feeling in your chest, yet it warms up as the seconds pass. Your whole body feels tingly, from the top of your head to the tip of your toes. 

Your quietness is too much for him to handle right now—a bit silly if you were to ask the Archon himself. “Say something,” he mutters, shaking your hand lightly. The redhead can already feel the rejection pooling in the depths of his stomach, eating away at him.

“You... Do you love me?” you whisper, looking up at him with doe like eyes. Murata can’t seem to answer for himself, one hand cupping your cheek. He moves closer, his breath fanning your face. The flames in his eyes gaze into yours, losing himself in the color before he averts down to your lips. A quiet way of asking for consent.

You lean forward, lips barely brushing against his. It’s shy between the two of you. After having such strong feelings for each other, neither of you know how to proceed. No one moves, it feels time has stopped.

You feel him pull away slightly before going back in, his lips fully pressed against yours. His other hand drops yours, instead wrapping his arm around your lower back. Your chest pressed up against his, your finger runs up his side, to the top of his shoulder and around, cradling the back of his neck.

His finger tightens around the material of your coat you wore for the day, using it as leverage to keep you standing. His kisses are soft yet fierce. The softness of his lips and his scent up close are enough to drive you insane, enough to make your knees buckle and make you want more. You want more of him, Murata.

A small grunts leaves his mouth when you tug on his hair. In return, he nibbles on your lower lip, chuckling at the small noise you produce from his motion. It’s becoming harder to breathe as you stay in this position with him. If air wasn’t a necessity, you wouldn’t go for it. 

You pull away from him, panting softly as you gaze up into his eyes. His eyes hold nothing but love and adoration as he peers down at you. The corners of his lips curve upward as he leans in, barely presses against yours again before pulling away. He sneaks in a few quick pecks, listening to your quiet laughter.

“Of course I love you.” He makes you look up at him, your face cradled in his hands as if he was holding something delicate, something that could be wrecked and destroyed any second. “That’s why I asked you what you thought about it.”

“And I love you too,” you reply softly. “I thought.. After everything you wouldn’t want to have feelings like this, let alone a human.”

“Sometimes boundaries are meant to be broken if it means true happiness.”

-

“Tensions have arisen in the land of Natlan. Nearby gods have caused quite the stir, causing Murata to put it to a halt at once. Upon ascending to his seat in Celestia, there have been prophecies saying a great misfortune is underway and can arrive in an instant. Since then, he’s been worked up. He cares much about his nation and will let no harm come its way.” 

The bard strums the string before growing silent, letting his head hang forward, his pigtails falling in his face. “It’s a true shame that such a horrid thing came to be… If only he was strong enough as he said he was.”

Murmurs arise from the drunken peers, hiccups joining the air as they beg him to continue the song. Even if some wouldn’t remember this night in the morning, this was still enough entertainment. 

“W-What happened next, bard?! Finish it!” an adventurer gasps, holding his cup of alcohol close to his chest, his cheeks heated and a light pink.

“You wish to know?” the bard asks, peeking through his lashes, his two toned eyes staring into the soul of the bartender. “Why of course!” he laughs cheerfully then clears his throat, batting his eyelashes as he brings his hand to his chest.

“Although, I’m quite parched and would love to have another cup of Dandelion Wine! What do you say, Master Diluc?”

“My answer is no. Do not ask me for something when you will not pay in the end.”

“Agh what a shame,” the bard sighs, letting his head hang back but never breaking eye contact with the redhead. “Don’t you wish to know about the ending?”

“I could care less.” Diluc speaks through gritted teeth, arms crossed over his chest, the infamous pose he does every hour of the day. “I just want you out of here.”

“I’ll pay for him!” one of the nearby men yell, fumbling with his wallet to grab the gold circles of currency to give to the bartender—and all the bard can do is smile cheekily, opening his hand. 

“Well, looks like the drink is paid for. Can I have it now, Master Diluc?”

The red head, already annoyed with the behavior of the young man in front of him, reluctantly takes the coins from the drunk. Without speaking, he serves the singer his desired drink, noticing the small smirk he wears. “Why are you smiling at me like that?” he asks, eyeing him up and down.

“Because I’m getting to my favorite part.” He takes a sip of his drink and places the cup back down. After a pleasant sigh is heard from him as he takes hold on his lyre, stroking the white petals of the Cecilia flowers. “And you’re gonna love it.”

- Melodies of the lyre were played even during the darkest of times. The soft notes were enough to make anyone who felt down happy again, or at least content, even yourself. The colors of the strings being played was enough to put you at ease. Sometimes when you’re out in the town, many children would ask you to play their favorite song or at least a simplified version if you weren’t familiar with it. 

But as of now, all of Teyvat was in ruin. Murata had told you the truth; he hated keeping you in the dark when you deserved to know. As much as he disliked saying this, your life indeed was on the line, more than his. In fact, the whole nation was at risk, along with the other six neighboring ones. 

From other Archons, Murata heard that a water monster, Osial, had arisen and was ready to ruin and kill innocents for the sake of a seat in Celestia. Morax, who was the overseer of Liyue at the time, was trying his best to seal the beast with his spears.

In this case, Murata hopes a threat like this doesn't happen to Natlan. Especially when he’s not there to protect his people, to protect you.

Murata hears a gush of wind from behind him and the earth beneath him starts shaking. He wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, small puffs of air slipping out of his mouth. He reaches above and tugs on the black hood of his cape. 

His archon outfit consists of silk white pants and black sleeveless shirt that resembled a vest with a slit down the middle of his torso. And to top it, a black cape flows behind, the hood covering his face from all to see. In his right hand, his fingers curl around the handle of his claymore.

A heavy burden rests upon his shoulders as he stares forward, seeing the world erupt into flames and utmost chaos. In the distance, he can hear the screams and cries of the families asking for mercy. He wonders what you would think about him if you were to see him right now. 

“Murata,” you whine, trailing the last syllable of his name as his lips peck against the bare skin of your shoulder. “Come on, you know that tickles.”

“Yeah? Maybe I’ll continue to do it,” he muses, nipping at your skin before blowing warm air onto your neck which causes you to squirm from him, pressing your hands against his chest. He listens to your soft laughs, loving the way your body moves under his touch. Your arms wrap around his neck, hugging him close as you hum, inhaling the scent you’ve grown to love. 

“Mmm… I love you.”

“And I love you too,” Murata whispers to no one, blinking rapidly when he realizes he was lost in thought and was not in fact with you, but only remembering a moment from a few days ago. In reality, here he stands in the middle of a deserted land that must be destroyed. Blood is on his hands, splattered on his face. 

“I didn’t even want to do this,” he mutters, grinding his teeth together as he proceeds to walk forward, watching red explosions burst from the ground, red blocks protruding from either ends of the nation. In the sky, the color purple takes over as lightning strikes down from the heavens and is brought forth onto the land. 

From his position, the ground had been cracked and was on the edge of being split apart if another Archon had used their powers against the nation. 

He lifts his claymore in the air, staring up at the red sky with anguish. His lips part as he whispers something to himself, reassuring that what he is about to do is alright and isn’t his fault. A sudden strike of his weapon pierces the land, flames bursting into the air and cracking the earth. 

Murata breathes heavily, leaning on the rounded edge of his weapon. Sweat trickles down his face, the hood falling off of his head. Two strands of hair fall forward, framing his face, the rest of it tied back into a low ponytail. 

The flames continue to run down the cracks which branch to smaller ones that cause the piece of rock beneath the surface to crumble and fall, leaving the terrain to become uneven. 

“Wow! Even from afar I can spot you,” a semi high pitched says from behind him. The Pyro Archon stiffens, internally groaning as he stares over his shoulder, meeting two green eyes. “Someone doesn’t look happy as he used to be.”

“Barbatos,” Murata grumbles, looking forward as he straightens his posture. With one hand, he picks his hood over his head once more and the other pulls his claymore from the ground, resting it on his shoulder. “What do you want from me now?”

“Just letting you know Morax has finished in the south region of Khaenri'ah,” Barabtos states, a frown growing on his lips as he looks away, the tips of his toes barely touching the ground as his wings keep him afloat. “You're not the only one who didn’t want this. We had no choice.”

“No choice huh…” He trails off, his claymore suddenly evaporating into thin air and gold dust left in its wake. “How are we loving, protecting gods if we just obliterated this nation with no god? What does that make us? We’re no better than those who do us wrong against our own homeland. We’re just like Decarabian. Nothing but tyrants.”

“Don’t bring up that name again.”

“Why? Because deep down you know it's true.”

“Because that was his own choice to keep us entrapped. We had no choice but to bring ruin. They felt-” Barbatos hesitates, licking his lower lip before continuing, “-they felt threatened. A nation with no god is a false one to Celestia. Everything must be in order. Khaenri’ah was not the case. We had to, or we’re next. The divine is not ready for a land with no god.”

“I shouldn’t have come.”

“Murata. If you hadn’t, who knows what would have happened to Natlan.” A deeper voice from behind him is heard, the sound of footsteps becoming louder before they stop beside him. “You and your people would have been in grave danger.”

“Unlike you, I don’t need to keep making contracts.”

Morax chuckles lightly, shaking his head, his ponytail swaying with the movement. “And how does that look on you, God of War?”

Murata shakes his head, refusing to look at the Anemo Archon and the Geo Archon. “War or not, this is not just. The victors burn bright and the losers turn to ash. This-” he motions to the now deserted land of dust and blood. The sky is a deep red, the sun or moon nowhere to be seen. The earth is uneven, mountains caving into the ground as streaks of dark colors emit from the ground. 

The spot the three archons stand upon is nothing but cracked ground, an empty space separating them and the rest of the debris. 

“This is not war.”

Even when he’s not in his right mind, the only thing that can put him to ease comes up, suddenly soothing his woes away. He closes his eyes, envisioning he’s somewhere else

“You’re so pretty,” you whisper in the god’s ear, twirling a strand of hair around your finger with a smile. “No wonder you’re a god. How could they not take you?”

“Please. You flatter me too much.” He grabs hold of your wrist, bringing it to his face, planting a kiss to it. “On the contrary, it should be you in my position. No, an angel is what you are.”

“An angel? Please, enlighten me.”

Murata shifts on his side to stare down at you, brushing the baby hairs from your face. A blanket covers your bodies from your previous intimate sessions, yet he remembers every curve, every flaw that’s perfection to his mind. “I mean, look at you. You’re too beautiful for this world.”

“Am I now?”

He nods, dipping his head slightly. The tip of his nose brushing against yours. “You are. You’re amazing. You’re everything in this world. You’re desirable but most importantly... you’re divine.”

“Wow, now I’m flattered.”

He smiles, the corners of his eyes creasing as he presses his lips against yours in a soft kiss. It lasts for a few seconds but it feels as if it goes on for years. When he pulls away, you cup his cheek. “And you are ethereal.”

The god shakes his head lightly with a sigh, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. You’re all he can think about. Even when he is busy taking away innocent lives and watching them get turned into monsters, the sweet image of your face continues to pop into his mind. You’re the light in the dark. 

He hates the feeling of being away from you, especially when he’s on close watch from Celestia. There’s something unsettling in the pit of his stomach that he can't quite put his finger on it. Murata watches Morax and Barbatos exchange a few words before he gasps, lifting his head up fast. “Natlan. It’s in danger.”

- The nation of Natlan, located in the southwestern region of Teyvat and home to the Pyro Archon, was under attack. There was no point in trying to save them, they were already too far gone. No god in sight yet the trails of monsters were left behind. Did the Archon truly love them like they said he did? Or was it all a lie to get people’s love?

The once beautiful land is ruined—looking like the one he destroyed not long ago. His statues that aided his people on their journeys far and wide were now broken and cracked. Chunks of stone litter the ground and crush nearby civilians. Whoever was standing beside those statues had been brought down along with them, no way to return. 

The god feels weak in the knees as he staggers over the dirt path that has noticeable traces of dried blood. No doubt from his people. Where are the bodies? He has no clue.

Houses have been torn apart, the roofs blown off and thrown into the field of flowers on the other side. He feels torn at heart. He wants to give up walking, already knowing the outcome but refuses to stop. He hopes that a few people, even just twenty people, can still be alive and he can move them somewhere else.

The night is cold and fresh as it was years ago. Only this time, the sounds of the animals in the creek aren’t heard and the wildlife is quiet. He looks towards the forest, hoping a deer or a boar will rush through the trees. But his hopes die when he notices that's not happening, and the habitat is burnt to ashes. 

“Somebody,” he croaks out, averting his eyes upward and freezes. Up ahead, in the center lies the biggest statue of them all, where flowers and candles are set up around it for ceremonial purposes. Every night new plants were replaced for the days to come. 

The most beautiful statue in all of Natlan has been crushed. The head of the statue is gone from the area (he can only assume it had been tossed across the nation or into the river). The candles are no longer intact,  the pieces scattered and buried into the burnt grass.

“No,” he whispers lowly before crying out, running towards it. His heart races as he steps closer and closer. All his worries and fears; he doesn’t want them to be real. He doesn’t want any of this to be real. He wants to be at home.

You.

You. 

Where are you?

He gasps for air and drops to his knees. Red eyes frantically search along the stone pieces. He plants his hands on the ground and hisses upon contact, retracting back. A rock share pierced his skin. Murata bites his lower lip as he shakes his hand, watching the piece fly off before he can continue looking.

Are you safe at home? You were, right? Surely you wouldn't come out when everything is being attacked, right? Yeah, that’s it. You’re safe at home waiting for him to return. Waiting for him to be in your arms so you can cry about your fears of losing your life and him.

And by the end he’ll calm you down, say soothing words into your ear as he holds you close, saying he’ll never leave like that again and stay with you forever. God or not, immortal or not, he plans to stay by your side. 

And then your lyre will be played for you and only you. He knows your favorite melodies. Oh so beautiful, he loves hearing you play them but this time, he’ll play for you until the end of time. 

Your lyre-

He freezes.

His hand hits something underneath the stone. Something smooth like wood and the prick of an object with a pointed tip—an all too familiar feeling.

With a grunt, he grabs ahold and heaves back, pulling it out from under the rubble. A surge of fear flows through his veins when he falls back, holding an object in his hands. 

It’s a cracked lyre, with pieces broken off where an emerald stone originally would have laid. The gold trinkets are ripped right off, the empty space now feeling dull. He notices the seven strings have now turned to three and aren’t holding their original color that glows. 

The only thing that’s untouched, however, are the Cecilia flowers. Not a hint of blood stains the white petals. 

His eyes grow wide when he gazes somewhere else, spotting a hand peeking out from the same spot he pulled the lyre from. A choked cry gets stuck in the back of his throat when it all clicks together.

You weren’t home like he thought you would have been. You weren’t waiting for him to return from his wages of war, to be in his arms. Instead, you did what you always did.

Worshipped Murata, under the ceremonial statue.

The one that caused your death. 

Tears well up in his eyes as he hugs the lyre close to his chest, mouth parting as a sob slips out. He rocks himself back and forth, shaking his head at this false reality but he knows this is all real. 

Murata babbles to himself, muttering things underneath his breath as he hyperventilates. He can’t catch his breath. His throat is closing in on him, the air too thick to even breathe right now. 

The tears blur his vision. He can’t see nor think straight anymore. The god of War was unable to save his people from the hardships of an incoming war. What kind of god was he? Was he even one? Or was he now a false one?

What seems to be years later, though it only is an hour or so, Murata finds himself standing on the edge of a cliff, dried up tears evident on his face. The whites of his eyes are red, the tip of his nose matching the same color. 

He sniffles, nose stuffed from the moments earlier. His breathing hasn’t changed a bit. His shoulders still shake with every inhale. The atmosphere around him is tense, maybe even too quiet for his liking. 

Behind him, he refuses to look back on the destruction he let happen. Even from a far enough distance, he can still clearly hear the crackling of fire and the sounds of a nation dying. 

He lowers his hand from his chest, spreading his fingers open. In a matter of seconds, the handle of his weapon appears slowly, the rest of the claymore following suit in gold dust. 

He peers down slightly, watching the red and black glow before dimming out. The slant from the edge of the weapon, one he has used to kill off his enemies without a thought. In the current state, he can see the traces of blood left behind. 

In his other hand is the damaged lyre. His fingers keep it close to his chest, his heart. One of the last things he had of you. The tip of his pointer fingers strums a string and he winces from the uneasy sound it produces. This instrument no longer plays the melodies he adored, and worse yet, the person he adores can no longer hear it. 

Murata was the Pyro Archon. Amongst the other gods, he was ruthless yet kind and merciful. When a threat was sent his way, he did not hesitate to take care of it. He took care of Natlan. 

Or, that’s what should have happened. 

He closes his eyes, goosebumps forming on his arms from the gust of wind that breezes by him, knocking his hood off. His hair that was let down swayed in the breeze, the loose ends flowing behind him. His bangs move slightly and then stop, falling in their original place. 

The rest of his cape follows in the wind, the ends flowing behind him like the draft was made just for him right now. 

“I let you down,” he says, clearing his throat. He stares at the colors of oranges, pinks and blues, meshed together to create the sunrise that he grew to love but now, he suddenly resents it. 

A single tear cascades down his face and lands on his bare chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. A rare whimper slips past his lips. With a shake of his head, Murata brings the lyre to his face, pressing his lips against the cracked wood. 

A goodbye kiss should always be special, shouldn’t it?

He pulls away, stroking the place where the gem would have been at. “I’m so sorry my love.” He averts his gaze and lowers himself, dropping the lyre on the ground underneath his feet. 

“Even I could not save you from the end of your journey. And as your god, I failed to protect you.”

When he stands up straight, his fingers tighten around his claymore. He stares down at the instrument, longing for time to change and to go back. To go back to how things were before. 

He can still hear the sound of your life and your smile popping into his mind. At the thought, his lips curl upward faintly in a small smile. 

Oh how he misses you already. He still remembers when he first saw you on that day under the statue as you played for him. You were aggressive, that was for sure. No doubt about it when you swung at him with your lyre and accused him of being a disgusting pig.

He can only blame himself. Deep down, he knew a day like this would come, but he didn’t think it would happen so soon. 

But maybe now, as he called you his angel or an angel of Celestia, you can now ascend to where you truly belong. 

This isn’t goodbye, but a farewell, he thinks, clearing his throat as he gets closer to the edge. He peers downward at the ground miles beneath him.

As he failed here, he still has a job to do, no matter what. 

So then he jumps. He brings his claymore around and over his shoulder and swings it down. Flames engulf him in whole on his way down until he hits the ground with a thud, his weapon taking up all the impact. 

-

“And thus, the Pyro Archon aided in other nations against the treacherous demons that corrupted their land. After such heroic deeds, he was never to be seen. Many questioned: where did the god of War go? Who will remain victorious?”

“Many say he disappeared to join his love in the next life. Others say he stepped down as god to live amongst the mortals as he always wanted.” The bard hums and lays his lyre across his lap. 

“It’s a shame really, how beauty can go to waste.” His fingers run over an emerald gem that lies in the middle of the wood. His lyre was beautiful. 

The edges curved in different directions with a piece of wood piercing the top with a rounded end and pointed tip. Seven strings glowed recently as he placed the object to rest. 

“But it’s not as if it was her fault.” His slender fingers run over the white petals with a faux sigh of despair. “She would have been popular amongst the folks here, if she was immortal, of course. If only he kept his word to her saying he would protect her no matter what.”

The bartender drowns out the rest of Venti’s words, his eyes trained on the wood beneath his feet. 

Diluc Ragnvindr, owner of the Dawn Winery and Angel’s Share. Information is at his fingertips wherever he goes. In Mondstadt, he is a nobleman of high status. Everyone knows about him. 

His crimson eyes hold tears as he lets out a shaky breath, bringing a gloved hand to wipe away at the water that threatens to spill. 

He tries to keep his mind off of it but he can’t suppress it.

In front of him was Lord Barbatos himself—one he knew too well from millennia ago. Having fought with him in the Archon War, and the Destruction of Khaenri’ah, Diluc knew there was no way to get rid of him. 

It shocked him the most that the bard even remembers the story from back then. Even if other storytellers told this tale, Venti was the one that pierced his heart the most. 

“Master Diluc!” At the sound of his name, the red head hesitantly lifts up his head. Venti’s annoying smile greets him, pressing his finger against his cheek in a thinking motion. 

“Did you like it? I hope you did! I try to incorporate any stories of the divine. It seems that today was a hit. Don’t you think so?”

“Why are you bringing it up?” he whispers, not caring that tears trail down his face. “Why do you need to remind me of my failure?”

The other peers don’t seem to notice the usual calm and collective man in tears. They’re all too far gone in the hole of alcohol. 

Venti’s eyebrows crease, cocking his head to the side. “Failures? What do you mean? I’m just doing my job and singing like I always do. You’re doing great things in the Wine Industry. What failure could you possibly mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean!” Diluc snaps, slamming his hands on the counter in front of him, causing the bard to jump in his seat. “You know exactly what you’re doing!”

“Oh dear oh dear,” Venti sighs, shaking his head. He picks up his lyre, placing his lips against the wood. 

“So pretty huh?” he asks once he pulls away, a small smirk on his lips as he shows Diluc. “Wouldn’t it be amazing if you got to play this?”

The strings continue to shine, dimming and going bright again. An instrument perfect for anyone and in this case, for Barbatos. 

It pains Diluc to see him with your lyre. As much as you told him you despised other people holding it, he feels much more stronger about it. He wants nothing more than to snatch it from Venti’s hands and tell him to get out. 

“Others say that he wanders in the world right about now. No one knows what he looks like though. It’s a shame if anyone were to find him and blame him.” 

Venti’s fingers run over the strings. A melody is heard in the air, louder than any of the drunk men in the room. 

Diluc feels a sob beginning to form in the back of his throat. He wants nothing of this. He wants to truly go back home to Natlan with you. He could have made you a god and you could have been here with him today. 

As much as Diluc wants to look away, he’s mesmerized by the way the singer’s fingers move gracefully against the strings. For a split second, he could have swore he saw you sitting in his place, singing softly for his ears only. 

Like the angel you were. 

“But it seems that the god is afraid of confrontation. And yet, he seems to be mourning over his lover even after her death. If anyone were to be at fault, it would be his—” 

Venti stops, peering up at Diluc through his lashes. A sinister look was evident in his eyes. He paused for dramatic effect, a smirk growing on his lips. He hums and strums the last note.

“Isn’t that right, Murata?” Venti muses, asking a question in the form of a song. But in reality, he aimed it towards the redhead god standing in front of him. 

Diluc stares dumbfounded, mouth parted and eyes red from his silent crying. His hands are balled beside him. The peers cheer for the bard and offer drinks to compensate for his amazing singing—to which he laughs it off but takes the offers regardless. 

And all Murata can do is live with his own guilt, for the rest of his immortal life. Forever.

taglist: @reddriot @thicmitten @katsuhera @novvabeam @patt-writes-stuff @axther @tspice283  @bonitoge @mysticalchocolate @yanfeisrose @mowestruc @tokyosrevenge @jaegerverse @hu-tao-main @midnightangelfox​ (add yourself to the taglist up above!)

[dwaynepride]

how was i to know?

summary: reader has a weird dream about gibbs.

have you ever done anything for the ‘ya know what kind of wood this is’ Gibbs dream that both Quinn and Palmer had?

words: 1700

warnings: slight nsfw

tags: @fairytale07​ @jrenn10​ @f4nboi​ @purplestarsr5 @ladyzombiielove​ @littlemiss3ma @minikate--24-05​ @consultingdoctorwholock​ @kittenlittle24​ @24601error-prisonernotfound @andreasworlsboring101​ @dressed-up-just-like-z1ggy​ @ms-allenbrown​ @ikbenplant​ @dylpickles1267​ @diaryofafan17​ @specialagentlokitty​ @pageofultron​ @stanathanxoox​

a/n: it’s been a while since i’ve posted. this isn’t beta-read so ignore the typos. be free, my thots.

Your eyes just weren’t focusing anymore.

It’s been hours (don’t ask how many) since you’ve sat down at your desk to read over case files. The bane of a federal agent - chained to their desk and forced to go over every scrap of evidence and testimonies to find anything useful and it’s the burden placed squarely on your shoulders for today.

Usually, you have tricks to help when the words start blending together. Getting some coffee, going for a walk, visiting Abby because she’s the physical embodiment of caffeine and normally wakes you up.

But nothing helped. And the words kept swimming over the screen.

You’re not learning anything new from sitting here. But with the team hitting a roadblock in the case, what else is there to do? 

Again, you start reading the paragraph that you’ve been trudging through for the past twenty minutes. But this time, as your focus wavers, it’s not because of the headache or the tension in your eyes. The sudden presence on your right is what stops your reading. It’s warm. All-encompassing. Brings over the soft smell of sawdust and aftershave and as soothing at the presence is, it’s a shock to you.

Because you could have sworn you were alone in the bullpen - staying behind while the others went off to find new leads.

Your eyes move off the computer screen, meaning to glance over to the presence. But you never see their face because they’re suddenly leaning in. Hovering over your shoulder, shrouding you from the harsh office lights, and you reckon if you take in a big enough breath, you’d be able to feel the warm presence pressing against your shoulder.

Their face was a mystery, and yet, you can feel a pair of eyes watching you - hard, steely, freezing you in your chair.

And without warning, a hand comes to rest on the surface of your desk, next to the keyboard. A worn, scarred hand that you recognize with a jolt. The named of its owner lies on the tip of your tongue, but it never comes out - like a secret you’ve sworn to keep.

His fingers curl a bit, knocking lightly against the top of your desk. The sound could’ve easily been mistaken as the pounding of your heart, if one listened close enough.

“You know what kinda wood that is?”

The voice mumbled against your ear is low and deep. Sounding like a bass drum and its sound reverberates through your body and you’re pretty sure it’s the reason why your hands are suddenly a little shaky. 

“W-wood?” You manage to echo back. A single word, hoping for clarification because your brain is moving at a snail’s pace. You’re simply too preoccupied on the warm, wet breathing that wafts over your neck.

His fingers start tapping against the desk in some unknown rhythm. And your eyes watch them move, entranced, and you keep telling yourself to look away and focus on something else but it’s much too easy to just keep staring. “Yeah. You outta know.” His voice is closer. More hushed. And that’s because his lips are right against the shell of your ear and his breath is blazing hot.

And through it all, you can catch the faint scent of bitter coffee and it only makes your skin tingle even more.

You suppress a shudder, if only to deny him the satisfaction of feeling it.

His presence somehow keeps growing larger - more encompassing, like a storm cloud rolling over the city. The words on the monitor; they don’t exist. There’s no more Naval Yard or team of federal agents or a whole case to solve. 

It’s just you, him, and the hard, cold press of the wooden desk keeping you here. 

Finally, you turn your head towards him. Words form on the edge of your tongue - stern words of annulment and to tell him you’re too busy for his games.

But then you meet his eyes. Head on - and they give you pause. Frozen in place, as if the icy blues really could chill you to the bone. So close, you could catch faint flecks of gray and gold floating around in the ocean of light blue and this time, it’s impossible to push down the shudder.

Now, his breath wafts over your lips slowly in his careful exhale, sounding almost disappointed and you’re shocked at how much that thought troubles you.

“Want to get a closer look?” He mumbles, eyes falling blatantly to your lips before coming back to meet your gaze.

A closer look? Damn him. 

This must be some kind of sick game for him - to see how far he can push you before you bend to him. He knows the implications of his question. You’ll start imagining yourself bent over the desk, looking closely to study the wood and its rings and texture. Everything he wants you to look for. Your mind will wonder, and suddenly, the image of him fucking you, hard and purposeful, over the desk pops up and you’ll never be able to get it out of your head.

And it works like a god damn charm.

His head tilts to the side, eyes softening to look amused. Probably because he notices you’re panting lighting and can feel it against his lips. “I can show you, if you want,” he murmurs. Still acting innocent. Still keeping with this game.

You breathe in because your head starts getting dizzy from lack of oxygen, but that proves a fatal mistake. 

Because the air itself smells like him - like coffee and smoke and old cologne and it goes straight between your thighs and you find yourself craving the feel of his scarred, worn-out hands on your skin. “Gibbs…”

His name comes out weak, like a shiver. And when he hums in response to it, you can nearly feel the vibration through the air and pulsing against your body. And slowly, carefully, his hand comes up to touch your shoulder. The first real, raw physical contact and you wait for it with baited breath. Suddenly craving it more than the air itself.

As it connects, you expect a soft sort of seering feel. Like a branding iron. Instead, it’s a hard and sudden shove that seems to rock the entire world.

It’s so hard, your eyes snap open instantly, sucking in a gasp of air like you’d just been held underwater. Those cold blue eyes that had so easily frozen you solid were gone, replaced with the familiar scene of the office doused in the light of a sunset. 

The stifling presence of Leroy Jethro Gibbs was also gone - in a way, you were grateful for the freedom. It was much easier to breathe now, that’s for certain. But the second thing you notice upon sitting up in your chair isn’t as appreciated.

Your body is humming. Heart pounding a million miles a second. And your skin...it’s almost painfully sensitive. So much so, even your clothes rubbing against it is almost too much to bear. For a moment, you can still feel Gibbs and his warm breath and the remains of his touch. 

But the worst realization is the deep throb between your legs. Aching and pulsing for something - or someone - that will never come. Your thighs shift together, hoping to ease the feel but the friction only seems to make it worse.

“You fell asleep.”

That’s his voice. 

Your head whips up to find Gibbs standing by your desk - watching you, his eyebrows pinched together and standing in nearly the same exact spot as in your dream and it’s a shock that you even realize that.

Immediately, you let your gaze fall - everything is throbbing just a little too much to meet his eyes. “And you were making some noises,” he continues. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you answer immediately. Too quick, you realize. Gibbs may not believe the dream was simply nothing, and it’s proven when he takes a small step closer to you. His shoes nearly nudge against yours, and you can’t stop yourself from tucking your feet under the chair away from him. 

His eyes are still on you. It takes an enormous amount of effort to keep your breathing steady and to stop the light shake of your hands to even pretend everything was normal. “You sure?” He asks. And this time, his tone is different. Just slightly - it wouldn’t even had been noticeable if dream-Gibbs hadn’t spoken so softly right in your fucking ear.

You need to get a fucking grip.

It was just a dream. A vivid, extremely hot dream. But a dream nonetheless. Not real.

“Very sure,” you reply, forcing your tone to sound more confident that you feel. It’s still impossible to meet his eyes - you know they’d be every bit as frosty blue and cool as in your dream, so you just spin your chair to face the desk. “You just woke me up from an intense dream.”

Gibbs hums a bit at the explanation. “Gonna tell me about it?”

“Definitely not.”

Out the corner of your eye, Gibbs just shrugs before turning back to his own desk and sitting down. Now that his whole focus isn’t on you, the rest of the world start to filter back in. The golden light of a setting sun coming in through the windows. The ambience of the office, winding down from a long day. Gibbs sipping his coffee. 

It gets easier to slow your beating heart. To ignore the slow, steady throb between your thighs. 

And carefully, you glance up across the bullpen to Gibbs. His eyes are on the monitor, paying you no attention.

“Gibbs.” That is, until you say his name carefully. Like an experiment. 

And when the shock of his eyes hits you once again, it’s nearly as powerful and earth-shaking as it was in the dream. But this time, you hold his gaze. Because there’s something you need to know before you can put this dream behind you and get back to work.

Your hand comes up, knuckles rapping lightly against the wooden surface of the desk. It sounds louder than it should. 

“Do you know what kind of wood this is?”

[welldonekhushi]

To Love An Indian | Tony Stark x Desi!Reader

Summary: The reader is a desi woman who was appointed as an assistant by Tony Stark. How will your relationship with the billionaire genius go?

Warnings: All fluff, used Hindi language! Translations are available.

Word Count: 2,914

The special fact about you was, being an Indian was something common about when you live in a western country.

Mostly migrate to other places for finding a job, same as you. Never believed once in your life, you're going to get a job of an assistant. For a billionaire genius, and a superhero.

Everyone in your family was so happy about it, at least they have expectations that their daughter will finally make her name and earn. Maybe find someone special that you find to be perfect in your life?

Your mom and dad always worked hard for you for a better future and lifestyle. They never been so happier when they found out you were being appointed for a job in America. They felt so successful and proud for making their daughter educated enough to send her further.

Your flight was tomorrow, but the nervousness just kicks inside that how would your interview go. It was actually Tony Stark, the genius, billionaire, playboy and philanthropist. You can't even mess up with him. But, there was one thing which bugged you about, a tingly feeling.

You remember him since the day when the world was saved from the Chitauri invasion, and everyone was celebrating about the victory of heroes. It filled throughout the Indian media, about the new superheroes, named as the Avengers, who fight the inside and outside evils. The moment Iron Man showed on the screen, you were left surprised. You kept staring at the hero saving others and making sure if they're secure.

Mostly! When he opened his mask, and revealed his face, everyone held such shocked faces, like they never knew Iron Man was basically a human inside controlling the suit.

"Lo, hum joh isse robot samaj rahe the, yeh toh insaan nikala!" Your grandmother exclaimed. (Wow, we thought he was robot, but he turned out to be a human?)

"Chodo na, dadi. Hai toh hero, na?" You replied, turning back to the television. (Leave, grandma. At least he's a hero, right?)

But, you kept looking at his face. The way he spoke, the way he actions, and everything. You were lost into the man, that suddenly you revealed your smile, your sister noticing it.

"Didi, kya hogaya?" Your sister broke your contact, making you jerk in an instant. (What's wrong, sis?)

"O-oh, k-kuch nahi. Bas me usse dekh rahi thi, baat karte hue." You stammered, looking back. (Oh, it's nothing. I was just looking at him, talking.)

"Oho, pyaar me toh nahi pad gaye na?" Your sister teased, making you blush. (Oh, are you falling in love, huh?)

"Aree! Pagal toh nahi ho? Of course nahi! Hero hai, respect karti hu." (Hey! Are you crazy? Of course no! He's a hero, and I respect him.)

You did appreciate him, but this kind of respect leading to somewhere else.

It was morning, and the time for your flight. Bidding everyone a heartwarming farewell, hoping to see your family soon again.

"Beta araam se jaana. Maine tere liye bahut saari kheer banayi hai. Kha lena agar bhuk lagi toh, thik hai?" (Dear, go easy while you leave. I made lots of pudding for you, so eat it if you feel hungry, alright?)

"Haa maa, ghabrao nahi. Me araam se jaaungi. Ashirvad do bas." You kneeled down to take blessing from your mom and dad, them giving it back. (Yes, mom don't worry. I'll go easy, just give me your blessing.)

"Khush raho, beti. Kaam karna aur naam roshan karna." Your father removed his spectacles, crying tears for her daughter leaving. (Be happy, my daughter. Work hard and make your name bright.)

You hugged your dad, weeping because he wasn't ready to accept the fact you were now leaving him for a long time. After breaking the hug, you wiped his tears, giving him confidence.

Stepping in the taxi, you bid them goodbye, waving your hand and leaving for the airport.

Your new life now began, the moment you entered America. Landing, you then stayed in the hotel for the night, tired and exhausted. But, along that you wanted to remember your lines, so you quickly revise and go to sleep. In the morning, you hurriedly reach Stark Tower for the interview, since the time was running a bit fast.

Entering in the huge interior, looking at a lot of people working in. It did made your nervousness kick in again, but behaved like a strong woman, just wanting to complete the interview as a badass.

You reached the receptionist. "Excuse me, can you tell me where will Mr. Stark take the interview?"

"Oh, on the 15th floor, meeting rooms."

"Thank you." You smiled, reaching the elevator and waiting for the floor to arrive. Checking your watch, you were two minutes late, but hoping they'll just manage. Entering the room, feeling the slight cold air hitting your skin. It seemed empty, but hoped he was waiting for a while.

"Uhm, Mr. Stark?" You called out.

"Come in, Miss (L/N)." A deep, masculine voice filled through the room, knowing someone was actually in. Stepping inside, and closing the door, you seat yourself, trying to hide away your nervousness. It seemed you were slowly forgetting your lines but, being a strong woman is your passion right? Who even can—

The moment the chair turned around towards your direction, you lost it. It looks like you totally forgot the lines now.

Because Tony Stark just faced in front of you.

Did you just, blush? No, it might be embarassment. But, he too stared at you for a while. It was like an awkward staring contest, but remembering you were here for an interview, you brought yourself back.

"Good morning, Mr. Stark. Sorry for being so late." You wipe off the flick of hair on your face.

"It's okay. At least you were on time." He replied, giving a smile. Damn, it was cute.

"So, Miss (L/N). You're from, India right?" He asked, looking at your documents.

"Y-yes! I'm from India, also fully graduated from college."

"What really made you accept this assistant job?" He started asking questions.

"I just don't want to work for money, but I want to find what better I can do while I'm by myself."

"That's everyone's expectations. We should really try something new, and it's a fact of finding your true self."

"Right." You nodded.

"Alright, I have appointed you, congrats." He closed the document and gave a grin.

You widen your eyes. "What? I-I thought you were going to ask more questions..?"

"I don't ask many of them, I know you're capable for everything so, no need." He shrugged.

"W-wow.. I mean, it's way different back there.. haha. What a prick I am." You chuckled.

"You shouldn't actually be uncomfortable or nervous around me, okay? I'll always be available for your problems." He stood up from his chair, and you also too. Offering his hand for a handshake, and you happily accept it.

"Congratulations for the job, Miss (L/N)."

"Aapka bahut, bahut dhanyawad." You accidentally speak in your language, making you cover your mouth in surprise. (Thank you very much.)

He raised his eyebrow in confusion, not sure what you really meant. "Excuse me?" He tilts his head, smirking.

"I-I meant, thank you for accepting me as your assistant, Mr. Stark.. I'm sorry about that." You replied, trying not to fluster from embarassment. But, it didn't seem to make him feel weird, he was like.. more interested?

"No no, it's fine. Accidents happen, but your language is just beautiful. Just tell me whenever you're about to speak Hindi, JARVIS, my AI will help me translate it." He chuckled, and you laugh back.

"Mr. Stark you're so funny." You shook your head and continued to laugh. He sees you smile, which somehow warmed his heart. You might not notice it, but something was being created in between.

And time actually told that, when you both worked together for a long time.

"Please, call me Tony."

✧

Years while working with Stark, you really enjoyed the job. He was a sweet, generous person who will look after you, hoping nothing worse happens. It kind of made you both like good friends, later on. Everytime you looked at him, some strange feelings always attacked you. You can't even guess what it means, but maybe because you really appreciate him.

One day came, when you even noticed about his weaknesses. It made you worry when he never came upstairs to sleep, so after a lot of convincing, he accepted your plead and slept. Even it became more forward, when Tony faced nightmares, and wanted to sleep with someone by his side.

He had been lonely, and it hurts.

His tired face made you want to rub it gently, and relax him to sleep. But, it looks like, you weren't friends anymore.

The way he became more protective and caring throughout your job in his mansion. Like a boyfriend.

But, the question came, does he even love you back, that you're feeling it all?

In the morning, Tony woke up to see the side of the bed empty. Maybe you were up early and started working. He got up and rubbed his hair, went downstairs to get some coffee. While drinking, he suddenly heard someone.. singing?

It didn't seem like an English song. It was foreign.

He could even hear the feminine sound softly, coming from the othe room.

Main tainu samjhawan ki, na tere bina lagda ji,

Main tainu samjhawan ki, na tere bina lagda ji,

Tu ki jaane pyaar mera, me karu intezaar tera,

Tu dil tuhiyo jaan meri

Main tainu samjhawan ki, na tere bina lagda ji,

When he slowly entered the room, you were the one singing while cleaning up the documents. Seriously, he never knew you sang so well. It literally made him feel so surprised, by seeing your other talent. He leaned on the door ledge, hearing you sing beautifully without noticing, like he was lost into it.

Everyday, whenever you used to sing this song while working, he secretly saw you and always adored your voice. It just made him fall in love.

On a particular day, he heard you sing the same song again. He stepped in the room, seeing your beautiful face and voice again.

In midway of your song, you turn around and see him on the doorway, and you gasped. "O-oh, Mr. Stark! G-good morning!"

"Good morning." He replied in his groggy, morning voice. "I never knew you sang so well. You never told me you even sing." He chuckled.

"Really..? I uhm, used to sing but, I had different plans.." You rub your hair, looking embarassed.

"But you sing so well.. I'm amazed." He smiled. "Problem is, I didn't understand because, that's a different language. God, I need to take Hindi classes from you, dang. What does it mean?"

You both laughed. "This song.. uhm actually is about, a lover, explaining his.. other lover that, he can't live without her, because they're deeply attached to each other. It's my favorite song, by the way."

"Oh really? You're into romantic songs, it seems." He raised his eyebrow and smirked, finding a seat.

"Yeah but, uhm.. because they show a lot meaning, even after I'm just a single-pringle, haha. Weird isn't it?"

He stared at you for sometime, it wasn't serious, but gentle. "It's not."

You blushed, don't know why but the tone of his voice dragged into it. Both kept staring at each, and had no idea about the surroundings.

You were the one to break through, coming back to reality. "Oh! S-sorry I just got lost.. a while back."

He got up from his chair, and went closer to your direction. Looking at each other's eyes, he found yours the most beautiful. Felt like he can swim in it. Caressing your cheek and rubbing it with his thumb, you started to panic inside, not able to notice what's happening now.

"Y/N.." He said, in a soft voice. "I.. wanted to ask about something."

You gulped, still flustered. "W-what is it?"

He realised something else, and then cleared his throat. ".. can you, teach me Hindi?"

"Huh?" You looked surprised.

"Yeah, I told a very while back, that I will once ask you to teach me Hindi. I'm very interested, can you please?" He flashed a grin. Like, there was no problem for you to teach him your language. It's good to make others know about your culture.

You gave him a nod as a reply, and he became excited. "Thank you, I'll gladly be your student, Miss Y/N."

✧

For weeks, Tony had been taking Hindi classes from you. I swear, it could have been tough for him, but he was just so interested to learn the language. All you know he was just keen so you were teaching him all that. Giving him assignments and worksheets with grammar, you helped him through everything.

"Maine khana khaya.." You said the words, and waited for him to recite back. (I ate my food.)

"Maine khana.. khaya? Did I say it right?" He replied, in a weird way because his American accent was also mixing in between.

"No no, you're going correctly! Now say it again."

"Maine khana khaya." Tony said it properly.

"Good! I'm proud of you. Damn, Tony. You're going good in this language."

"For you, I can do anything, even learning a tough language."

The moment which left you blank again. He still fixed his soft eyes with yours, clearing your throat to break the tension.

"Okay so, do you have any doubts so far?

"Well, uh. I have a doubt, many of them." He rubbed his nose.

"Ask me."

He first rubs his hands nervously, then looks back at you. "How do you say.. love in Hindi?"

"Oh, well.. pyaar." You replied, being straightforward.

"Okay.. now how do we say, you're beautiful in it?"

You felt a tingly feel in your stomach, but still continued. "Tum khoobsurat ho."

He chuckles. "Alright. Now, if I ask my final doubt.. how do I say.. I love you?"

You gasped. Did he really mean it? Clenching your pen, you became nervous.

"Tell me, my love. I want to know about it."

".. me tumse pyaar karta hu."

"Yes, that is what I wanted to hear." He skids closer to you, growing close to your face.

"Mujhe tumse pyaar hai." He said, properly in Hindi. You felt like to explode. Tony Stark.. loves you?

Suddenly, he gets up from the couch, offering his hand. You grab it and get up, till a familiar song plays in the room.

Tony grabbed your waist from one arm and your hand from the other, swifting to the movements as if they're dancing.

He started singing the song, when the verse began.

- play it now! -

"Main tainu samjhawan ki, na tere bina lagda ji.." He sang the line so perfectly. You were just shocked and surprised. Both were dancing like a couple on stage.

Main tainu samjhawan ki, na tere bina lagda ji..

Tu ki jaane pyaar mera, me karu intezaar tera,

Tu dil tuhiyo jaan meri

Main tainu samjhawan ki, na tere bina lagda ji..

While he was singing your favorite song, you were about to burst in tears. You never believed it. The billionaire genius, actually loved you this whole time. Happily resting your head on his chest, he continued to dance while holding you close. When the song finished, he still saw the tears in your eyes.

"D-did you wanted to learn Hindi.. b-because of all this?" Your voice cracked.

"Yes, my love. Just for you. I have to tell this but.. I fell in love the moment I saw you for the first time. Your smile, laugh, voice, behavior, eyes.. and your.."

"And your.. what?"

He sighed, and then leaned to close the gap between your lips. The kiss was sweet yet passionate, like he waited for this moment.

He pulled off for air, both of your gazes neutrally looking. "I'm surprised that I fell in love with an Indian, like you. But, you're pretty, no matter what nationality you belong to. You changed my life Y/N. Trust me, the way you took care of, pampered, and worried for me.. I can never forget that. I really love you for that, my love. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you.. d-do you accept me as your boyfriend?"

You started to sob, clenching his shirt tight. Maybe she wasn't happy about it. "L-look, if you don't accept, it's okay.. you deserve. Alot better than—"

"Yes, yes and a million times yes!" You said excitedly, and he sighs in relief. "Did you like.. learn the entire song?"

"Yeah, I even did take help from JARVIS for the translation, also from your teachings, never forgetting that." He winked.

"Oh god.." You laughed.

"But come on, you didn't like it? Tell me!"

"I did, Tony. And I want to thank you for it, a lot."

He gently wipes off your tears, and kisses your forehead. "Now, do you want to celebrate for our engagement?"

"Like where, Mr. Stark?" You said, flirtatiously.

He darkens his eyes, and picks you in the bridal style. "Right in our shared bedroom, sweetheart." He takes you in the room while giggling, shutting the door from inside.

[beni-draw-ikemen-please]

Casablancas

Tags: 5+ Years AU, Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Teasing, Hair-pulling, Vanilla, Rough Sex, Cunnilingus, He is a boob man, Not Beta Read, Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Feels, Light Angst, Waiting, Unrequited Love

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Word Count: 6,443

Rating: Explicit 

Pairing: Jade Leech x Asami Oda (OC)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32076625/chapters/79462633

A/N: All my TWST works will reference my original long fic of my OC, Asami and Leona Kingscholar.

If you'd like to know how the relationships got established, you may read the long fic EYES NOSE LIPS. I was in desperate need for some Jade teasing and smut and this came to me and I JUST - I needed to write it. Thank you so much for @pseudofaux​ for the help with writing some of the imagery I had for this piece. 

She is an amazing writer and writes for most Otome Fandoms (and anime) tastefully, skilfully and beautifully!

Chapter 1:  I’ve missed you

It would be like this. The quiet week when Jade finally takes a few days off from work. It would be subtle, but it was a regular occurrence, a few days in the middle of the month.

A few months before he finished his final year in the magical university, Jade was given a shiny opportunity as a manager-in-training for a luxurious hospitality agency. And while Floyd opted for a more adventurous career, Jade quite liked the more domestic approach. He liked staying in one place, and doing what he knew he could do best. To serve .

Triton Hotel is strategically and most notably one of the most iconic landmarks of Santería — a neighbouring Savanna sharing a border with Afterglow. About six hours by plane, but only two hours to pass through a magic mirror.

He’ll clock out with everything in order, a set of phone numbers and potions at the ready if an event where he is desperately needed may occur. He'll make sure though, prior to this appointment that he won’t be needed. At least, until his awaited engagement was fulfilled.

                                           ══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ══════

As his gloved fingers aligned the last bit of stem on a vase of casablanca lilies, he straightened himself, brushed his jacket neatly in place as he eyed the clock. Any minute now—

A soft knock by his door. Precisely just as he predicted. His loft had been thoroughly cleaned, and he put on fresh flowers she liked. Got that room mist she picked out the last time they went out for tea. Jade Leech would breathe in, as if savouring the air through his lungs in this form. The form he felt fortunate to swell in.

To have this skin—

He reached for the brass handle, and as he opened the door, there she was. Raven hair tied neatly behind her. Her collared shirt buttoned just how he liked it. Her dark long skirt covered most of her beauty, beauty he was all too familiar with. Jade smiled at her, and gestured for her to come in. A gloved hand slowly finding themselves ghosting the small of her back. “Come in,” it tells her. Quietly, very gently hovering over, already anticipating the warmth of her supple—

“You’re late,” he chuckled, and instantly her cheeks would sport a mellow pink. And then, as he spoke and approached her, as his hands found her close and closer, the colour growing as intense, her apology now irrelevant, her face now too alluring, too inviting for him not to be this close. “Jade-san—

He wished she dropped the honorific. He felt as if she was calling someone else, someone familiar yet at the same time, still a stranger, even after all those years.

And though he was not present in her life, he hasn’t been for years— almost a decade— Jade felt that his shadow still clung around the scent of her hair. 

Still clawed its way into her dreams when they lay together at night.

“I’ve missed you so—” she did, and he could feel it. The way she pulled him close, so close to her, he would always need to reach down even though Jade knew he could easily lift her in his arms. But she wasn’t fond of that, he knew better. It would remind her of him— her other, her long-lost love. The one who didn’t return her affections. The one who left.

Remembering him ticks something inside of Jade.

Hands would trail from her small shoulders, slowly removing the white gloves with his teeth. A sight he knew always excited her.

Thumbs slowly finding themselves by the small of her neck. He’d stop there, mismatched eyes of ochre, and lead admiring her features, gently—fiercely. Jade always felt the need to compete with a ferocity that’s been a struggle for her to forget. Even with him there.

She is the same Asami, yes she is— though, the years have certainly made her even more impeccable than the days she used to waltz across the floors of the Mostro Lounge. And her long hair now, framed her face better. Not that her shorter hair didn’t. Something about her keeping it tight and in place behind her excited the fins under his flesh, under this form.

Something about the way she kept herself from others; from the long sleeves she always wore, to the way her hosiery clung to her skin, something about it made the corners of Jade’s lips pull up to a satisfied smile. Thumbs now gently finding their way around her jaw, and now she’s looking up at him. Lips slightly parted, pale and luscious — just the way he likes her. Flushed and eager with anticipation. She’s always been stirred around him, and as the years went by, and as she learned of his affections towards her, she was able to let her guard down. 

She was able to relax around him, and every now and then, she’d open the doors that led to her locked heart. 

Heart that’s been locked away for him— thinking about him made the inside of Jade’s stomach coil and quiver.

A man he loathed but thanked at the same time. For he made her so beautiful, made her wait, made her patient — exactly how he loved her.

Devoted, hungry and yearning — and how, as time twirled her around and around, the precious seconds that she’s on her own on this marble polished twisted floor—of magic and wonderland, of things that will never be known to her— he was able to perform his best steps so far. Like Rothbart, he was patient to learn that dance, he was patient to learn the music, patient to learn when the prince would step away from crescendo, patient to finally have her hands slowly find his.

And he was sure not to ever let her escape, not ever.

His lips were gentle on her cheek, and Jade could hear her soft humming as he trailed gentle kisses up to the side of her head just above her eyelid. Gently, very gently on her forehead, then his hands would slowly and gingerly press themselves along her jawline, his lips—now hungry and bruising against her chin, and then her jaw.

Longer, sweeter, and heavier kisses followed his fingers as he carefully trudged across her skin like gravity couldn’t help but press himself towards her . And Jade would feel her hands on his forearm, desperately pulling him closer. She can be impatient, with so many years being too patient. For him, it wasn’t an issue. He is willing to give her what she wants, what she always wanted but never felt like she deserved.

His lips would finally land on hers, and she was very quick to open her mouth to him. Inviting him into this world only of lush and velvet— of sweetness and bitterness, the taste that’s uniquely her.

He would always know.

“Jade,” when she is desperate like this, she is quick to lose herself. Quick to drop the politeness she once so carefully honed like he did. They were quite similar in this aspect. But in the way Asami lost herself, Jade found her over and over again. His tongue now finding salvation, finding comfort in her mouth. It’s been weeks since they saw each other. His work didn’t allow many days  for him to be away, certainly not even weekends, to their dismay. And she was unable to travel through mirrors without a companion bearing magic. Certainly not for more than a few minutes.

Her hands pulled him closer by the nape, her smaller figure trying her bestest to reach up to him, “I’m—

She is panting now, and it’s one of the things that Jade loved the most. Even more than his precious terrariums and the many trinkets he’s collected off the land throughout the years. She was like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow . The trinkets he’s collected, polished and admired were merely coins, coins that just sunk to the bottom of this grand marble fountain. And she was the centerpiece, and the rainbow her mere crown. Jade didn’t think it was possible to be this hungry, this crazy about a human woman.

Asami tugged at his collar, and with fingers almost as skilled and swift as Jade’s, his tie was immediately on the floor. His jacket was already coming off as she pushed him down his leather couch. A rich crimson, and with dusts of gold, much like her eyes. Eyes he’d admired for so long.  Jade is relaxed under her stare, she looked like a beast from this angle. Like a panther, ready to devour. He quite liked that contrast as she was as quiet and as shy as he could be prowling. Her knees resting between his legs, letting him know she wanted to take charge, maybe today if he let her. And Jade would smile, hands tight around the small of her back, and gently smoothing themselves around her waist, and then resting firmly by her lower abdomen.

“Come,” he invited her, his voice a smooth Ambrosian—a drug to Asami. 

Her hands rested around his shoulders as she leaned for another sweet kiss.

Jade loved the way she would seem brave as she leaned close, and how softly  and easily she melted under his embrace. And her head would gently rest on his shoulder after kisses, she would always be embarrassed like this. And Jade's hands would only pull her closer, gloved hands like a virtuoso of her melody, gently lifting the hems of her shirt, untucking her blouse and slowly undoing the buttons from the bottom, and then she moans.. And she would watch him, cheeks flushed red as he unbuttons her shirt. 

Her hands, still on his shoulders.

Jade would run his hands, from the bottom wire of her brassiere, to the fullness of her, cupping her breasts with his hands as she slowly reached for another kiss. Hands heavy around her, and then back to where he knows she loves it best. Orchestrating touches that earned him the sweetest of sounds. Her chest, her neck, and then again, her jaw. Followed by wet kisses, and eager nips. Hands finding themselves back down her breasts again, and Asami would always wonder when she’d black out during this slow languid way he fondled her. Her blouse would be on the floor in an instant. And his hands were already pulling by her ass, lips and tongue now lapping at her full softness.

Jade was sure she won’t always be conscious of it, but her hands would pull him closer by the nape, breathless and parched for him. Music clung to its pilgrims. And he is, as he so lovingly puts it, both the virtuoso and the instrument. Only for her songs, only for her pleasure.

“It felt like forever,”  it was a gradual process, how she eased into his fins. And Jade almost marveled at how their little human lost her composure the closer they fell for each other.  Closer and closer , slowly, she revealed herself to him like she had never before, even after all these years of knowing.

Jade knew how much of herself she devoted to Kingscholar, so, to see her come undone like this, for him specifically, was a sight to behold. A reward for all that waiting.

Though she wasn’t one to take charge, the way she pushed him down his leather sofa proved to be quite the surprise for Jade. The way her chest heaved let the silk organza she wore shimmer under the warm lights of his loft. Like mellow clouds illuminating heaven, and she was the brightest shine, the goddess that pulled that world of light and love together.

He felt blessed to be in this form. In this form, his hands could run from her shoulders, to the small of her back. Down to her ass, a place he didn’t think would be this delectable, this tempting. Her cheeks have the sweetest tint of apples, and he quite liked the way she looked whenever she was embarrassed. Parted lips that seemed to call out to him, in every language--- human and merfolk, how her shoulders pulled themselves together under his gaze, how she’d avert her eyes— his stare can be too much for her— she admits that one time.

But Jade was quite fond of that look on her face.

And as Asami watched his eyes, she almost forgot how his hands were already undoing the last button that let her blouse down. Curious, slender fingers now teasing the top part of her chest as he pulled her closer, and closer.

She knew Jade knew his way around her like this. Her bra would come undone in an instant, and sometimes she’d wonder how much experience he’s had before her. Before all of this.

He is careful as his mouth enveloped her like this. She trusted him to be careful, though Asami knew, after a certain point in time, that Jade needed more. He needed to let the ferocity hidden behind features like alabaster and pearl, behind polite speech, behind knifelike teeth out.

Out to ravage her.

And the old fear she knew around him slowly sublimated, slowly fed a newfound feeling for him.

Something akin to the hunger she once felt for someone else, though she tried her bestest not to compare.

Wet. It was warm and wet. And though at times Jade Leech looked like he was nothing but.

Though she knew his form under the sea, savage and cold— unforgiving—the Jade before him was warm, inviting, just as hungry as she was. Just as parched as she was.

And she would gasp, and wrap her arms around him. Her face hid by the crook of his neck. Jade’s hands now grabs her thighs, and slowly drags himself across her skin. Fingers now find himself on her inner thigh, and she would gasp again. The anticipation nearly unbearable for Asami, but she quite liked the thrill of waiting. She was primed to wait, and Jade was always set to reward her.

“I— I thought I’d,” she thought about it. Taking charge. But Jade is always quick to give her the illusion that she could. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t think she would be capable of it. It was more that he enjoyed the image of her unravelling. The sounds she makes as his fingers tease her wetness. Her eagerness was fully displayed by the lack of underwear. But Jade quite liked how she kept the garterbelt on, and how the stockings hugged her plump thighs. Jade didn’t think it would be possible to want a human woman like this. To hunger for a creature of land, like this.

“I didn’t think you were the naughty type,” he chuckled against her hair. And then, he inhales . A deep inhale, savouring the air around her like this, with this form . His two fingers now inside her wet cunt, Asami moans and Jade lets himself breathe more of her, strands of her raven hair getting caught between his teeth, her hands around him tighter.

“Only, if you’ll be the one to punish me,” she tries her best, sometimes she’ll play a part -  but Asami is always soft, always so sweet. He admits playing pretend sometimes gets his fins excited, gets his mouth watering, his cock hard. But Jade loved her like this. Just as much as the timid and docile Asami he’s loved over the years.

His hands reached for her ponytail, a soft thug. She moans after a soft gasp. Jade’s mouth smothering her breasts with kisses and nips. His other hand pumping into her core softly, but deeply. Two, and then three. Asami’s hands are tight around him, holding herself together. He could be unforgiving, and she’s learned to brace herself when he is in a steady pace like this.

His hands on the knot that holds her hair together, now tighter. Pulling her hair tight, slowly wrapping her hair around his wrist. His mouth lapped at her nipple, taking her— as much as possible — in his mouth.  

“I’ve missed you, Asami—” he murmurs onto her skin, followed by wet nips and then gently picks her up. She holds on to him, arms wrapping tight around his neck. She didn’t like it when he did this, but it stirs something inside Asami and she can only go quiet, she can only let him.

And he carries her, legs wrapping around his lithe figure, towards his bedroom. He is as quiet as she is. And he inhales the scent of her hair. Jade gently pushes the door close with his heel, and then very gently settles her there. 

The finest artefact he’s ever acquired off land.

Chapter 2:  Tamed by You

Trinkets and treasures, flora and fauna he’s collected off the land receive a special space in his loft. Carefully curated around him, like the work of the princess of the sea who collected treasures from sunken ships. How he admired her fortitude. How he wished to be surrounded by such beautiful, such wonderful things, too.

Surely, none of them could be bad?

But only the empress of his world deserves the prime space of his collection, the shelf of his bed.

Unfortunately, his empress seems displeased. Being carried, like the way he brought her to the bed… Jade knows she dislikes it. That it reminds her of someone else, someone with the same kind of fury, but rougher, harder. 

The sight of her pouting worries Jade, but it amuses him just as much. He hovers over on his mattress , the weight of him like an aphrodisiac seeping into her skin, into her lungs, into her lust. 

“I told you,” she whispers, cheeks flushed, and the corners of her eyes shining with almost tears. “I don’t like being carried,” and he knows this. He knows this well. 

But couldn’t help doing it anyway. 

He plants a chaste kiss on her cheek, and then her forehead, his hand smoothing her forehead under him. “Forgive me,” he hisses, whilst taking her hand and planting soft kisses around her knuckles and fingers. Jade never wants to truly disappoint or upset her in any way. 

But if it will rile her up in the end, he has the tendency to try. 

“What would you like?” Another kiss, to her wrist. Then to her elbow, while he waits for her to decide and answer. His eyes never leave hers. Asami hums, and she takes a minute, while watching him plant kisses all over her hands and wrist, and then she takes him by the hand. 

Pulls him back up to her into a full embrace. 

She is quiet for a bit as Jade holds her tight. Then, she is facing him again, her eyes misted with want, and lips parted — ready and very, very delectable, to Jade.

“I want you,” she whispers as she pulls him close, lips parting just for him, at least Jade hopes. Her mouth invites him in, making way for only him between those lips of hers. He loves them so dearly. But whenever she expresses it like this, Jade can’t help but wonder if it is really him that she is asking for. He would very much prefer that she call his name. 

Sometimes, even in these heady moments of pleasure and satisfaction, Jade’s mind can’t help but go there — to Kingscholar’s image. The subtle ways he dragged her around, as if wielding lace entwined with barbed wire around her neck and she couldn’t quite tell the difference. His indifference towards her, and how she lapped every crumb of affection he hands out every now and then. 

How she deserved so much more. 

It was ridiculous, how easy it all looked, how easy it all felt. All of a sudden, she was within Leona’s arms. And just like that, he let her go. No explanations, nothing. 

But Jade tries to convince himself. That he is the one there, not him. 

He is the one undressing Asami, with his hands, in this skin. 

Not him. Not Leona Kingscholar. 

Jade’s hands push the hems of her skirt up to her waist, and part the soft fabric to reveal her skin. How he has missed her like this, quivering and wet underneath his stare, underneath his hands. He leans in and trails wet, rough and jagged kisses across her neck, to her collarbone, to her shoulder, biting his way back down to her chest. His hands tightly pin her wrists down. 

You’re mine, they tell her.

All mine, she hears it through his ragged breathing, through the grip on her skin. His kisses feel like warnings, beware, they tell her. But she isn’t one to listen. Not when his lips are so inviting, not when his hands of alabaster guide her so lovingly toward him. Another kiss, on the side of her breast, and then he sucks on her sensitive skin. Jade knows exactly where to kiss, exactly where to touch to put her in pieces, moaning underneath him. His fingers are trailing where the garterbelt clips, and they are easily undone by his skillful hands. 

The sound of his belt unbuckling is music to Asami’s ears. She loves it, and she looks forward to the events he can lead her to after.

Her eyes try their best to focus on him, and the shape of his waist. The abdominal lines that excite her so. His trail, a darker shade of teal that makes her insides quiver. Jade Leech is a curious creature. He’s also a creature of beauty, of ferocity, and something else Asami can’t spell, not with the letters that this world can wield. 

Jade knows how much it pleases her, when he is in this state of undress. The blush on her face alone is enough to know: she can’t get enough, and she wants more. More. 

Jade leans in, for another sweet and tender kiss, and Asami’s hands are pulling him close, from the nape, and her hands snake around the back of his ear, her fingers gingerly caressing his earlobes. Jade doesn’t understand why she does this, what the need for it is but he lets her anyway. Maybe she is amused with sleeping with a partner who has human ears, maybe? The thought makes Jade chuckle, though she doesn’t ever seem to notice it. 

“Jade.” He hovers over her like a spell gone wild, a premonition, and he languidly breathes into her skin, down her abdomen, his fingers following after— and then down her belly, fingers stroking her thighs. Heavy hands now guide her thighs up and open for him, so he can finally have the perfect view of her. 

He was quick to learn the ways of pleasure for creatures of the land, but for Asami’s sake, he had to go very slow. He had to make sure he knew what she wanted, or at least, what she thought she wanted. Jade Leech leans in, and she holds her breath, her hands anchoring her to his mattress. 

Asami feels him, wet and hot, a very very hot mouth on her. Tongue, a different kind of sensation than what she was used to,  not as rough, not as shocking. And she feels the movement of some smooth recitation from Jade Leech’s curious and dangerous lips onto her wet cunt. 

He hears the softness of her breath, the music it brings out of her, and Jade is delighted. His hands tighten around her thighs as dips his tongue deeper, alternating sucks and broad drags of his tongue. Tasting her. 

She reaches for him, hands  desperate to hold him as she looks into his mismatched eyes. Asami likes it whenever Jade does this, and his eyes never leave hers. 

When he stares right back into hers, into her core, she feels the affection she has never thought she deserved. The love she has been hoping for. It just took her several years to realise that perhaps, it was meant to come from someplace else, from someone else. She is grateful. 

Jade reveres her like an empress, like she is the fairest of all the land - maybe she truly is , for him at the very least. 

She is a confection of delicateness, and melodic sighs— everything Jade wants, everything he loves most. Her legs shake from pleasure and the intensity of his touch, and he loves the way she looks as she searches for something, anything, to tether herself into this bed— his domain — desperate to keep herself in place. Because she knows if she doesn’t, she will be drifting away in pieces at how hard he is going at her clit, how hot his mouth feels on her and how much he is teasing her.

But his hands remind her that he is present, he is there. 

He is her anchor, and her storm at sea — all in one. 

His forearms push her down, while his hands reach for her breasts— he can, even with this form, he surely can— mouth, tongue and almost teeth still on her cunt. There have been times when he thought about doing all of this to her, with her, in his true form, and he wonders if she will ever be up for it. Jade’s mind wanders for a second, but he does not let up, it is still all about her. If he wanders too long, her voice will bring him back, her voice— as if it is truly the most precious, valuable thing in this world — brings him back to the shore of her body, the coast of her softness. 

Asami holds her breath when she feels she is close, but Jade Leech wants this to last. 

So he sucks hard, earning him a gasp, and then a groan. Asami chants towards enlightenment; she has to redo it and try again, if Jade lets her. 

Jade feels it when she opens herself wider, urges him to push her down harder and heavier, she is close. Jade takes her by the thighs, and adjusts himself so he almost looks like he is ready to slip his entire self into her and his tongue yields her soft, hot and wet flesh, and invites her to come. Softly grazing her with his tongue, and then, sucking, and then again licking her softly. 

Time feels like it stops when Asami holds herself like this, holds her breath again.

When Jade finally lets her have it, he continues his pace as he listens to her. He is desperate to make her concentrate on her sweet bundle of nerves, the touch of his tongue, and the warmth of his breath onto her.  

And she finds release, her thighs tighten around his face and she cries out incoherent words and mews of satisfaction. Jade adores how she coos, and he kisses her inner thigh, continuously, letting her ride the waves of pleasure he so patiently lavished. Jade carefully moves her legs, and moves up to watch her face as she pants. Her eyes find him, smiling, and she doesn't utter a word, but Jade’s fingers are quick to trace her cheeks that are now so red, down to her lips that now look so desperate and wanting for more.

When they meet like this, a few days in the middle of each month, he savours every opportunity to make her come, and Jade finds great satisfaction in making sure she enjoys the best release, every single time. He is particularly proud of the way his masterful hands seemingly wrenched the pearl of her soul out of her oysterlike prison— out of the steel bars of the lion’s den— and into this world that is his bed. 

She is his pearl, his treasure.

His precious Asami, pearlescent and soft and beautiful in the centre of his world. How he loves her, how desperate he is to keep her right there. Away from the clutching grip of the past, away from the claws of unrequited love and away from Kingscholar, forever, if this world so allows. 

“P-please,” she moans, and she begs. Jade can’t refuse her when she does this. Her voice sounds like she could break, any minute now, his precious pearl. His lone casablanca. 

Jade starts slow. Getting accustomed to the pleasures of this form, within this skin, didn’t take very long. She is irresistible to him, and when she first let him have her, he was surprised to find how easily he could break underneath this spell she is so unaware that’s binding his heart, his fangs, his claws and his very essence to her. Her alone. 

Jade’s hand now firm on her ass, Asami opens her legs a little bit more, his grip tighter and his breathing slower and heavier than hers as he brushes the tip of his cock against her cunt. 

A greedy woman, she truly is. And Jade can feel his lips form a satisfied smile, so maybe he made her this way. 

“P-please,” she moans and she begs as he rolls her over.

They fuck hard and she can barely keep herself upright as Jade pushes his entire length and girth inside her. She is thankful he is so considerate, making sure there were pillows underneath her, and her face is properly cushioned. But sometimes she wonders if he truly is thoughtful, with how hard his nails are digging onto her skin, with how hard he is fucking into her. 

A heavy force, just as rough when you let him be, Jade Leech. 

Leona and Jade - different sides of the same ferocious coin. 

But it is funny to Asami how, in between gasps and out-of-breath kisses, in the spaces between Jade thrusting himself into her, she finds these comparisons. She doesn’t want to compare them, but a common ground always seems to connect her hearts to them. Her past, and now present. 

Her maelstrom, her lighthouse. Her Jade. 

His scent long forgotten, his fangs long absent from her skin. Bruises long healed. 

Jade bends down, sucks on her shoulder as he pounds her harder. Harder. Faster. And Asami cannot hear herself and how she is moaning, but Jade can hear her, only her. Sometimes muffled against the pillow, and then she tilts her head to the side and gasps for air.

Hands circle around her, feeling her breasts, and then he adjusts himself, his hands supporting themselves on her hips once more. He smoothes them down to her ass. 

Jade knows she likes it hard, and he has always found that he wants to compete with that ferocity he knows she once loved. The only kind of love she knew, until him. Sometimes he wonders if she still loves him. If he is only a replacement. Sometimes his mind wanders. And then he goes harder, harder, pulling her pony out so he can let her hair down. Just to grab it up so it is held by his fingers instead and he can pull her hair so much tighter as he bottoms out. He is rough, and Asami is near to tears. But she likes it, she loves it. He knows she does.

“J-Jade,” she moans, drooling on her pillow. Jade pulls out, turns her so she is laying on her back. “Face me,” he growls. His voice lower now, deeper. His hands are pushing her thighs down and open, and he goes for it yet again. His thumb slowly glide down her clit as he enters her again. She gasps sharply, her eyes watching his every move, so she sees the shimmer in his eyes - dark and dangerous- and the way it encourages her to let go and come again. 

He wishes someone could watch the way he fucks her. There is elegance there. His ferocity is carefully wrapped around by elegance, wrapped around her and her finger, though she doesn’t know this. Not fully. 

He fucks her hard. And he takes her ankles and plants wet kisses there. Alternating with eager nips, bending and then pushing her down, harder. Kisses to her knees, it feels so good. “Ah-,” he grunts as he pushes down her legs, this lets him go deeper, more forceful. 

The composure and finesse that hold Jade Leech’s demeanor together slowly break as he fucks her. 

Jade knows that she isn’t made of glass. She can take it, blow by blow. So he wants to make her. He repositions them again, and puts her up so she is sitting on his lap. And then he lets her work herself down on him. He grips her tightly around the waist before he slides his hands toward her ass. His middle finger gently strokes her there, wringing another sharp gasp out of her. He knows Asami finds support around his neck whenever he teases her like this. She is breathless, and she is blushing, but she wants all of this and more. 

The perfect view of her face, and the expression she is now wearing— so different, a far cry from her prim, proper, pure self outside his domain. 

Only for him, she is like this only for him. Only like this—  because of him.

Jade Leech doesn’t think he is deep enough, so he pushes her down, shocking Asami with the swift movement. Jade’s laboured breathing is something she can never get used to, just like the way he blushes whenever they are so close like this thrills her. His hungry eyes seem to see through all of her, exciting her insides, making her drip. Jade is thrusting into her again, and she can feel how close she is. His pace becomes more erratic, his elegance slowly crumbling to a jerky staccato that’s very unlike his usual rolls into her. 

“Asami,” he hisses in between heavy breaths, and she tries to touch his thighs— as he fucks into her, starved and ravenous like the predator that he truly is. She wants to touch him too. She wants him too. She wants her hands all over him too. 

Asami’s soft fingers call out to him, and he is quick to go into her embrace. His hips crash onto hers so feverishly she feels her whole body jerk and bob up and down. She feels good, she loves his relentlessness. He is close himself, brought there by her body, by her arms around him.

She stretches for a kiss. Her fingers toy with his earring, as their lips lock once more. 

What is it about predators that attract her attention, make her fingers tingle? What is it about carnivores? Asami doesn’t understand it, but she knows Jade is so beautiful to her. She can  feel him hitting the deepest parts of her. There is a slight sting, but the pleasure of him, the pleasure of it all, is stronger. 

“I love you,” escapes her soft lips, and Jade wonders if she is really talking to him. Sometimes the trust he so lovingly bestowes upon her betrays him in the most unfortunate moments. But he tries to push that thought aside, looks directly into her eyes so he can see only her and she can see only him. 

And how the light seems to reflect on her eyes, always. He loves her, too— of course he does, so much. He has thought of her with fondness since the first time they met. It took him a long fucking time to make his move but here he is, cock-deep in her, finally. 

Not for the first time and not the last.

That thought is what makes him come, hot and slick inside and desperate to stay there. Her legs squeeze him lovingly, her arms pull him tight as he bites the side of her neck and feels how the last of his release oozes into her This skin, his temporary form, how grateful he is for it right now. How grateful he is for anything that lets him be with her. 

                                            ══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ══════

The aftermath of it all is a sacred time for Jade. He lays beside her, eyes carefully watching the soft shadows of her lashes on her cheeks, even breathing from her softly parted lips. The dark of her hair all over his pillow and her back, she lays on her tummy and he pokes her cheek with a soft chuckle. 

What a beautiful creature, he thinks to himself. He won’t ever get used to it, he won’t ever get tired of her, this view and the many things they could learn and explore together. Jade runs his fingers through her hair, and gives her a kiss on her cheek. 

And then on her fringe, inhaling deeply. He wanted to run a bath for her, but she insisted on staying in bed, and being held. He can never refuse her. 

Even though Jade is the one who trims the stems of the bouquet, and sets each flower in place...even though he is the one usually in control, she rules his heart. He is on his knees because of her. She is the queen of lilies after all, the empress of his world, his precious pearl. He cannot force her and he cannot taint her.

He can only try to improve her vase.

Maybe this is what brought the king to his knees. Maybe this is why he left. Maybe he realised how big an impact she could make on his life, on his heart. But that thought makes Jade chuckle. He hasn’t been a coward, he thinks. And he marvels at how long she has waited, and how long he waited for her, the intersections in the past where they connected and met. He believes, has believed for so long, that he is the one for her. 

The delicate petals, much like her lips, the precise way the flower bends, the purity of it all— his heart sings for the queen of lilies, for his casablancas. 

Carefully curated, skillfully placed, within his domain.

Purest white set upon the backdrop of his darkness, elegance and ferocity…but he knows deep down, he is a mere devotee. Not a director.

Beauty tames ferocity. Always.

A/N:  I just want to say thank you A BIG BIG THANK YOU to pseudofaux for helping me with this delicate piece. I wanted to stay consistent and faithful to the first chapter. I also never really written a full sexual scene so I was struggling a lot. Thank you Pseu for your patience and for your hardwork. Thank you. 

I also want to thank scummy for helping me sent the pace and tone/flow of the first draft. Thank you so much! 

Thank you so much for reading this piece! If you enjoyed this story, please do let me know what you think! If you're interested to see more of my TWST art, 

I am over twitter most of the time. ♡(｡- ω -)

[psychovigilantewrites]

Red Robin Yum

Pairing: Tim Drake/Reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 5,107

Summary: Reader seduces Tim in a grocery store, hoping to see him snap. 

A/N: Special thanks to my beta reader Ms. Potato. I can post a pic of the ahem “outfit” if you guys want! 

Masterlist

Ao3

“Are you mad at me?” you heard your boyfriend ask from behind you.

Pausing for a moment before reaching for the yoghurt, you smiled to yourself.

“And why would you think that?” you turned around to face him. Tim was slumped over the handle of the shopping cart, the frown lines on his forehead deeper in contemplation than it usually was.

“Because,” he reached for the carton of milk and held it up to you, “You got normal fresh milk.”

“Well, we needed milk, didn’t we?”

“I’m lactose intolerant,” he furrowed his brow, “And you didn’t get lactose free. On purpose. You’re mad at me.”

“Go and get the lactose free one, then,” you smiled sweetly before turning away again.

You weren’t actually mad, but you thought it would be fun to mess with him a little. God knows he needs a little colour in his life.

“Babe,” he sighed, reaching for your wrist. “Come on. Tell me why you’re mad.”

“You’re the genius, why don’t you figure it out?” you snapped and crossed your arms.

Trying to maintain a deadpan expression, you watched as his eyes sharply zipped around the aisle as he recalled the events of the previous day. You genuinely enjoyed looking at him while the gears in his mind were turning because he seemed so focused.

“You were fine throughout the day and dinner,” he thought out loud, “Even up till I went to bed. Which means that you’re upset over something that happened between the moment before we slept, and the moment we woke up this morning and got ready to come here.”

“Bingo.”

“Did I accidentally kick you while I was sleeping again? I’m sorry! I can never tell when-”

“No, Tim,” you rolled your eyes, “Think harder. I thought you had an eidetic memory.”

“Not when I’m sleep deprived,” he whined. “Come on. Please?”

You could never resist his puppy dog eyes, and damn did he use that to his advantage.

“Fine,” you shifted closer to him, as close as you could without actually kissing him, causing his breath to hitch and his complexion to turn a few shades darker. Glancing around the grocery aisle to make sure it was vacant, you looked up at him and gave him a cheeky smile. “I can just show you, then.”

You had carefully chosen your outfit that day and had premeditated the whole thing. The top you were wearing was a loose-fitted off the shoulder blouse with a low neckline. All you needed to do was tug the shirt down a little further to reveal the red lacy lingerie hidden underneath.

“W-w-what are you doing?” he hissed, eyes wide in panic mode, head darting around to check the perimeter.

You grinned smugly and pulled the neckline back up. “I wore this to bed last night and you didn’t even notice.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he breathed, “I was just so sleepy, the only thing on my mind was the pillow, and--Fuck- is-- is that my…?”

In addition to the lingerie, you had stitched his Red Robin symbol on the left breast of the lacy cup.

“Mhmm.”

“And the shade. It’s...It’s exactly the same?”

“Yup.”

“Fuck,” he carded his fingers through his hair, “Why are you wearing it now?”

“Revenge, Tim,” you winked. “Come on, let’s see what else is on that list.”

“Uh, yeah,” he looked down to the piece of paper he was gripping tightly in his hand, “Aisle seven.”

As the two of you strolled in that direction, you noticed that Tim was on much higher alert than before. You suppressed a smirk.

“Fruit loops, fruit loops...” you hummed, “Ah, there it is.”

You were familiar with the grocery store, and you knew the box of fruit loops were on the bottom shelf. So you bent down, your ass graciously displayed towards Tim, and you let the hem of your top hike up your back so he could get a sneak peek of the matching red laced bottoms.

“Jesus-” you heard him breathe. “Ah, fuck.”

You dumped the box in the trolley.

“Alright, what’s next?”

“Baby,” he groaned, pulling your waist closer, “I’m sorry for not noticing you last night, and I promise I’ll make up for it, so could you please stop this? We’re in public.”

“This is what revenge looks like, Tim. Pretty, but painful.”

“How about we just go through the aisles real quick, pay, and go straight back home?” he bargained. “See, there are only a couple of items left on the list.”

Tim’s grocery agenda wasn't like the average person’s list. Instead of randomly writing down ingredients, he would divide it all by store sections to maximize convenience. He had every aisle memorized and would jot down the aisle number first at the top, followed by the groceries you would need to get at the bottom.

It was unusual, but it was definitely more efficient.

“Or I could drag you to the back exit, get on my knees and suck your cock,” you offered innocently.

He didn’t make a sound at that, but almost exactly like in cartoons, you could see how his face turned slowly red, from the base of his neck all the way up to the tips of his ears.

As cute as the reaction was, it wasn’t near the main reason why you liked to mess with Tim so much.

“Let’s just complete this list,” he huffed indignantly, “Wait- shit. See what you did? We missed something in the refrigerated foods section.”

“What is it?”

You grabbed the can of whipped cream before he could. He narrowed his eyes at you.

“Pshhhtt,” you mimicked the sound, and when he was least suspecting it, brushed the cap of the whipped cream against one of his nipples.

“Wh-what the f- stop,” he jolted.

“Pshhhtt,” you brushed it on his other nipple.

“I swear you’re-”

“Pshhtt,” you continued, but this time, you brushed it at the front of his crotch, earning an sharp inhale from him.

Then, maintaining eye contact, you stuck out your tongue and flicked it up and down in a suggestive licking motion.

He roughly snatched the can from you and threw it into the trolley with such force you were surprised it didn’t shatter. Then, he turned to you and scowled. “You’re going to regret this. A lot.”

And then he pushed the cart to the next section of his list, ignoring the delighted girlfriend he left behind.

Inside, you were gushing with excitement. Push Tim’s buttons for a bit, and you get to see his other side. You bit your lip distractedly at the mere thought of it.

“Coffee. Coffee. Coffee...” Tim muttered to himself absently, a frequent habit of his.

“Oh, no. You promised,” you scolded with displeasure etched across your features. “You promised that after pulling off the last few days- hell, the last few weeks- that you’d give up coffee for a bit so you could rest.”

“I know,” he nodded blankly, “But I need coffee for energy.”

“You don’t need energy to rest,” you argued, “You took the next week off from your day and night time activities. I even took the week off so I could spend time with you.”

“Then you’ll need coffee too.”

“What? What for?”

His eyes radiated intensity as it made contact with your own, and the corner of his lips tilted sideways into a smirk. “Did you really think you could get away with this, baby?”

He ignored you afterwards, speeding from aisle to aisle to complete the list, leaving you in a state of excitement.

You expected the car ride to be him complaining to you about how you turned him on, but on the contrary, he was silent the whole way. However, his grip on the steering wheel and the accelerating speed of the car spoke volumes.

“Tim? You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he grit, continuing to glare at the road. From that angle, you could see his sharp jaw clenching.

“You’re driving pretty fast there, buddy,” you pointed out, stifling a giggle.

“I’ve driven faster.”

“Now it seems like you’re the one who’s mad at me,” you smirked.

“Mad? No, I’m not mad at you,” he let out a humorless chuckle, “I’m furious with you.”

“But why?” you pouted.

“Why?” he repeated, “Why?”

Without taking his eyes off the road, he grabbed your wrist and shoved it onto his crotch.

“This is why.”

Your eyes widen at the feel of his hard erection trapped under the confines of his jeans.

He took a deep breath and put his hand back on the steering wheel. Three and nine o’clock position, per usual.

“You’re so hard, Tim,” you purred, giving him a squeeze that didn’t phase him one bit.

“And whose fault is that?” he huffed, “Now please stop. We’ll be home soon.”

“Ten minutes is not soon enough, Tim.”

“We’ll be there in five.”

Home was a nice apartment in Old Gotham with large windows, and most importantly for Gotham City, a safe garage. But despite being the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, it was a very humble abode for someone of his social status.

It was one of the things you loved about Tim. He didn’t want the lavish lifestyle, just a comfortable place to work and rest.

The elevator ride up was quiet but intense, the silence making you jittery. You knew what was coming next, which was why you had provoked him in the first place.

Ding went the elevator, its doors opening.

Tim nodded at you to go ahead first while keeping the doors open, being the absolute gentleman he was.

He inserted the key to the apartment door.

You gulped.

He twisted the knob and pushed it open.

Your heart was hammering against your chest.

Taking a nervous step inside, you dropped the grocery bags on the counter and waited. You heard him close the door and lock it, and then his soft footsteps inching closer towards you.

He did it on purpose, letting his footsteps be heard, because you knew he had naturally developed the habit of walking silently- all of them did. He did it so you could anticipate his arrival, until he was just a hair’s breadth away from your back. So close that you could feel his heat radiate onto you.

And he stood there for a bit, not moving an inch. And again, it was all done with purpose. He wanted you to get nervous because he wasn’t touching you yet, because he hadn’t slammed you against the wall and kissed you hard.

You could almost feel the electricity between you, and you knew that he was just as extremely aroused as you were, if not for the hardness that was poking into the flesh above your ass.

It was like a game.Who would break the silence first?

You heard him take a deep breath, and then sigh.

“Why’d you have to go and provoke me like that, sweetheart?”

Ah, fuck, you really pushed him overboard this time. You recognized that voice. It was clear and soft, barely even a whisper, yet it was laced with a silent threat that made you start sweating.

It was a dangerous voice that Tim Drake had used, and now you weren’t sure if this was all going according to your plan or his.

“Y-you’re the one who didn’t notice me last night,” you stuttered.

“And I said I’d make up for it, didn’t I?” he drawled, resting his hands on your hips, finally touching you. “Yet, you still pushed me.”

Most people thought that Tim was the gentle, passive one in the family. Hell, you thought so yourself. And he was, for the most part. He was soft spoken and awkward, he was sweet and thoughtful.

But most people didn’t know how much he repressed himself. His frustrations and his desires, all for the sake of objectivity.

You learnt that about him the first night the two of you had sex, though catching you off guard, you were pleasantly surprised.

“So what do you have to say for yourself?” he whispered in your ear, his breath tickling.

Were you going to try your luck and push him further?

“Absolutely nothing.” Yes, you were.

“Baby...” he warned, still in that soft and soothing tone, “Are you really going to make me punish you?”

“I’ve done nothing wrong,” you arrogantly defied.

The moment that last word left your mouth, you felt him spin you fast to face him. And now, you were looking up at him.

His eyes were dark, his pink lips slightly parted- but he looked calm. Dangerously calm.

And that was Tim Drake. He had authoritarian control over his emotions, keeping a straight face the whole time. Calculative and cold- that is, until he let go.

It had been a while since he properly let go, and you were trying to draw out that side of him that day.

“Get on your knees,” he muttered.

You raised an eyebrow in challenge.

“Now,” his eyes flashed with annoyance. So you did what you were told, and now you were eye level with his crotch, appreciating the contour of his covered bulge.

You looked back up at him.

“Well? What are you waiting for?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, you immediately unbuckled his belt and took his cock out of his briefs.

He let out the tiniest sigh that anyone could have missed if they weren’t waiting for it.

His cock stood tall and proud, the tip already leaking, and you could see how it pulsated gently in the rhythm of his heartbeat, brushing against his t-shirt and staining it with his pre-cum.

You gripped his shaft-

“Wait,” he stopped you. “Safe word?”

“Carotids.”

“And when your mouth is full?”

“Tap three times.”

“Good girl. Go on. And no hands,” he instructed.

And with just that, you knew your plan had succeeded.

You shifted closer to him to position your mouth over his shaft, gently massaging it with your lips, slowly getting it wet with licks and dribbles of spit. You worked your way up from the base to the tip, then started sucking on it with the smallest pressure.

His breaths were getting heavier by the second, and you could already start to hear his little gasps.

Time to take it up a notch.

You took him in your mouth, sliding your lips down until his head hit the back of your throat.

“Hnng, fuck,” he moaned loudly.

When you first started dating, you found out that Tim had full control over his reactions to horror movie jumpscares and being punched in the face. He basically had control over a lot of normal human instinctive reactions. The one thing he had no control over, though, was how expressive he was when feeling pleasure.

You bobbed your head up and down his shaft, taking him in with finesse thanks to your many practice sessions with him while he took breaks from work. You studied his reactions closely, and got well at reading his expressions.

His eyebrows were now drawn together, and you knew that he had begun to lose himself in the feeling, so you slid his cock out of your mouth and grinned up at him.

He looked at you.

“Are you teasing me?” he asked.

“Whatever do you mean, Tim?” you smirked.

“Oh, no baby,” he shook his head, then suddenly grabbed a fistful of your hair from the back of your head, “You don’t get to do that to me today. Mouth open, hands at the back, I’m going to fuck your face like you deserve.”

He shoved his cock into your mouth roughly, the sudden invasion making you gag and tear up, and started to fuck himself with your mouth, thrusting his hips while controlling your movements with the hand on your head.

“Fuuck,” he groaned, “Fuck, baby. I love it when your throat close around me like that.”

You could hear the vulgar sounds of yourself gagging on his cock. And then, like a routine whenever he snapped like he did, he jammed himself deep, forcing your mouth to go all the way down and touch the skin on the base of his cock, and stayed there while your throat fought its hardest to push him out.

“Argh, that’s it baby,” he hissed, “5… 4… 3… 2… 1… Okay, breathe, breathe.”

He took himself out to allow you to breathe, drool dribbling everywhere while you gasped for air.

“Good girl, good girl,” he wiped your tears away, “Again.”

He tapped his dick on your lips, and you opened obediently to allow him to choke you with his cock.

“Fucking- fuck-” he gasped, “5… 4… 3… 2… 1… Breathe, sweetheart.”

You panted for air, aware that you were a huge mess, as you felt your shirt get soaked.

“One more, baby. Fuck, you look so pretty with my cock down your throat. A little bit longer, okay?” he coaxed, “ 8.. 7… 6… 5…”

Through teary eyes, you tried to look up at him. You saw him smirking, his face tilted to the side to get a better view of you choking on his dick, which made you squeeze your thighs together.

“...4...3...2...1… Okay, baby breathe,” he took his cock out and started caressing your hair, “Good girl. Now open up again.”

You complied to him, letting your mouth fall open on command. This time when he pushed himself inside, he started fucking your mouth roughly again, twisting his fist in your hair until you could feel it sting, controlling the pace of your mouth on his cock.

“Fuck, baby, fuck,” he moaned out loud, “I’m gonna come inside your mouth, baby girl. Fuck, you look so pretty being fucked in the face.”

Even if you wanted to reply, you couldn’t. Your mouth was being used aggressively by him, and soon after you could feel his pace getting sloppier.

“Baby, baby, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he breathed, “Fuck, I’m gonna- I’m gonna come-”

Tim was relatively quiet during the day with other people unless he’s explaining or contributing to something. He would add a few quips and snarky remarks, but he was never the one to fully exhibit his emotions.

But sex? He was the most vocal during sex.

He let out a low and long moan, mixed with breathy pants. Tim’s sex sounds drove you insane. It was him truly letting go.

You felt the warm splash of his cum inside your mouth and like the good girl Tim said you were, you swallowed down every last drop.

Looking up at him through hooded eyes, you gave him a grin.

“Your mouth makes me come so fast,” he chuckled, “Come up here, sweetheart.”

Your legs were shaky, and you were burning with desire and arousal, but you managed to stand up.

He pressed his mouth to yours, but it wasn’t a kiss. Instead, he shoved his tongue inside your mouth and started exploring it, as if he was trying to lick you clean.

“I love tasting myself in your mouth.”

“Tim,” you breathed, dizzy with want.

“Look at you,” he took a step back and looked at you up and down, “Such a messy girl. Your shirt is soaked. Take it off and show me what you’re wearing underneath.”

You immediately started stripping, lifting your shirt above your head, pulling down your jeans to reveal the red lace lingerie that consisted of breast cups and lace covering only the middle section of your abdomen, going down to the lace panties, that were secure with knots on either sides like a bikini bottom. For ease of access, of course.

“Jesus fucking christ,” he groaned, pulling you against him, hands squeezing your ass. You could feel his wet cock get hard again against your tummy.

A hand travelled to your left breast- where you stitched his symbol, squeezing it.

“You better burn this image in your mind, Tim,” you smirked, “For not noticing me last night.”

“The best part about having a photographic memory is that I don't have to,” he smiled, “I can conjure this image of you whenever I want. You sucking my cock, you wearing the sexiest Red Robin uniform to ever exist, and… you lying down on the bed with your legs spread open.”

You got the hint and gave him a peck on the lips before turning to head to the bedroom. Tim didn’t follow behind you, but you got on the bed anyway, lying down on the white sheets and spreading your legs, eager to fulfil his fantasy.

Touching yourself slowly, your hands traveled down to your thighs, caressing your own skin, finally going between your thighs and gasping at how wet and turned on you were.

You started to touch yourself over the lace panties, moaning at the relief of pleasure.

Lost in your own dirty thoughts, you jumped when you heard footsteps coming closer. Tim was leaning at the doorway, smirking at you with his arms crossed.

Completely naked, his hard cock bobbing against his abs.

“Couldn’t wait, huh?” he chuckled, entering the room to stand at the foot of the bed proudly.

“Tim, please,” you groaned, “Need you.”

“Aww,” he cooed, “Are you begging?”

“Yes,” you whined, grinding the heel of your hand on your clit, lifting your hips off the bed. “Please, Tim.”

“Okay, since you asked so nicely.”

He bent down and buried his face in your crotch.

And then took a long, deep breath.

“Mmm, baby,” he purred, “You smell fucking divine.”

He opened his mouth and laid his tongue flat against your covered pussy, letting the heat and the wetness from his saliva consume your center.

“I can taste you through this,” he gasped, “What the fuck? You’re leaking through. And I only just touched you.”

You let out a desperate whine.

“Jesus, you really like getting your face fucked, huh?” he chuckled, fingers deftly untying the knot on either sides of your panties to expose your pussy to him. “I’m not going to eat you out. This is a punishment. I’m going to fuck you. I’m going to use this pussy. Okay?”

“Please,” you breathed.

He lined his cock to your entrance, and without warning, immediately thrusted in deep.

You yelped at the sudden, delicious stretch, appreciating the feeling of him filling you up.

“Fuck!” he cried, “Fuck, you’re so wet, it went in just like that. Fuck, baby, fuck.”

He grabbed the back of your knees and lifted them up, spreading your legs wide so he could start the brutal pace of pummeling into you.

“Fuck! Tim!” you sobbed, utterly consumed by the pleasure. Because Tim’s cock was so fucking perfectly shaped, every time he penetrated you, he was already touching your deep spot.

“Baby, your pussy,” he groaned, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, you feel so good.”

“Tim, I’m going to-”

Suddenly, the euphoria was all gone. His cock wasn’t in your pussy, and he had his hand around your throat, leaning down above you.

“Baby,” he whispered in your ear with the same cold voice, “You’re not going to come until I tell you to, okay? I’m going to fuck you until I come, and I’m going to come inside you, but you’re not going to come.”

“No!” you shook your head miserably as your voice came out hoarsely, “Please, Tim, I-I can’t take it.”

He leaned back and gave you a chilling smirk, “You wanted to be Red Robin so badly, didn’t you? Well, Red Robin doesn’t beg or whine. So you’re going to take my punishment and deal with it.”

He plunged himself inside you again, hips battering against the back of your thighs as he held your legs up while he fucked you hard. You wanted to come, so so bad, but you tried your best to resist, because you knew it would be even worse if you disobeyed him.

“That’s it, baby,” he panted, “That’s a good girl. Don’t come. Do not fucking come. Fuck. Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck I’m gonna-”

You felt him spill his warmth into your pussy as he let out a loud groan. You bit your lip hard, anything to resist coming without his permission. Tim slowed down with his thrusts, his eyes tightly shut, his mouth hanging open, a thin sheen of sweat on the surface of his hard and toned body, making it glisten.

He took out his cock, and you felt his cum leak out of your hole, dripping down your ass and onto the bed.

“Mmm,” he moaned, looking down at your pussy. He then went down at your crotch, and used his thumbs to spread your pussy lips wide open, playing with his cum and rubbing it all over your cunt.

“Fuck! Tim!” you shouted because you suddenly felt his tongue on you- this time licking you up from your hole to your clit, lapping it between your folds, dipping it back inside your cunt, going to circle on your clit again.

And connecting his lips to your pussy, taking it all into his mouth.

“I love tasting myself on your pussy, baby,” he slurped, “I love tasting your juices when it’s mixed with mine.”

The way Tim ate you out was like no other. Tim was proficient in everything he did, and he tried to do it as perfectly as he could, and that included bedroom activities.

It was the way his tongue darted between your folds, knowing exactly where to apply pressure or focus more on, and the way he knew what movement you liked through his many previous experiments and exploration.

It meant that whenever he went down on you, you wouldn’t last long.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” he pointed out, getting back on his knees, “Can’t have that, can we? Just a bit more, baby.”

“Tim, come on,” you pleaded, “I need to come, Tim, please.”

“Soon, sweetheart,” he answered, teasing your slick opening with the head of his cock, “Soon after I fuck my cum back into you, okay?”

You groaned. Tim was especially descriptive and eloquent in bed, which made it all the more harder to follow his orders.

He plunged back in easily, and you were full again. Full of his hard cock and his warm cum.

The angles in which Tim fucked you was also calculated, as well as the paces in which you liked to be fucked. The two of you would go weeks without sex because you respected Tim’s exigency to do the job and fulfil his goals.

But when he had his time off, it was like the sex never stopped.

All the frustrations he kept locked away would spill out during these times, and Tim being the ambitious person he is, would find a new goal to fixate on.

You.

Your weaknesses, your preferences, your kinks and your sensitive spots. He would discover so much about your body, more than you yourself knew, because he would try different techniques, different approaches, all the while remembering and silently noting every observation and filing them away in that brilliant brain of his.

And all of that swiftly brought you close to your peak not long after the first penetration.

He was pounding you hard and fast, chasing his third orgasm of the day, and quickly bringing about your first.

“Tim, please,” you sobbed as you stared at him, his mouth open to breathe in his heavy pants, his long hair messy and poking into his eyes and sticking to his sweaty forehead, his biceps rippling as he held your legs up.

“Okay, sweetheart,” he nodded, eyes closed and head thrown back, “Come with me. Come with me now. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-”

Finally, under Tim’s command, you let yourself go. You felt the approaching heat that spread from your centre and up to your chest and down to your toes, the tightness that almost paralysed your body, the white hot waves of pleasure that rippled through you.

You came hard and intense, your pussy fluttering around his cock, which was still pumping into you, drawing out every last bit of your ecstasy.

The warmth that leaked into you was accompanied by Tim’s signature orgasm noise- a mix of a high pitched whine and a low octave groan, all long and stuttered as he choked on his breaths.

He collapsed onto you with a tired sigh, lips crashing against yours as he kissed you properly this time.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

“Fuck, indeed,” you replied.

“I’m going to take it out.”

“Okay, slowly please- aah, fuck.”

“Mmm?”

“No, it’s just your cum. You have so much cum, Tim, Jesus.”

He chuckled and settled next to you, pulling you into his arms. You felt his cum dribble down onto the sheets, just creating an absolute mess.

“I still have more where that came from.”

“God, you’re such a cum freak,” you laughed, turning around to face him. “I’m absolutely filled.”

“You like it though,” he smiled.

“I do,” you admitted, “Feels nice and warm. Not to mention, the sight of it turns you on again.”

“Which reminds me,” he added, “Do not try to turn me on in public ever again. I do not need someone taking pictures of the CEO of W.E with a fucking tent in his jeans. Vicki Vale would sprint with that headline.”

“You deserved it,” you pouted.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” he rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry for not noticing you last night. I was tired. But you look… fucking sexy. Jesus.”

“Admit it, it was the Red Robin thing that turned you on the most, right?” you wiggled your eyebrows.

“Yeah,” he conceded, “I don’t know why. It could be the instinctual habit of humans to place a form of territorial symbolism on their partners.”

He absentmindedly moved his hand to your left breast and cupped and squeezed. “Fuck. To think that my mind gets overrun by basic animal instincts… I love seeing you in my color. Wearing my symbol. Fuck, I think I-”

“God, you’re hard again aren’t you?”

“Sorry,” he blushed, “I think I snapped again. Though, I’m sure that was your plan all along.”

“You’re the detective here,” you grinned.

“And you’re getting better at manipulating me,” he pointed out.

“Tim, that wasn’t manipulation. That was seduction,” you teased, “And it’s not that hard. You may be the youngest CEO in Gotham with a genius level IQ, but you’re still a man.”

“Fine, you asked for it,” he got up and hovered over you, “Ready for round two? I’ve got this thing in mind that I want to try out.”

“Well, how could I say no to that?”

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Rose Red’s All Hallows Eve: Preordained Position

Summary- 5.8k Curtis Everett x You. Your boyfriend got you tickets to a charity Haunted House, and the special features include immersed scenes from the movie of your choice. Once you hear that the one and only Curtis Everett from Snowpiercer is a part of the choices, you just have to go. Prepare for a night of apocalyptic fun! 

Warnings- Brutal Killing, Drug Use, Non Con/Dub Con, Swears. Read at your own risk. 

A/N- Written for @jtargaryen18 Haunted House 2020. Be sure to read the warnings for each chapter. The page dividers were made by @firefly-graphics​ , I highly suggest checking out her work, its really excellent and a bit of everything to choose from. The manor described in this story, Rose Red, is a piece of work from Stephen King, and I highly suggest watching the tv mini series, if you can find it. Perfect for this time of year. Special thanks to @what-is-your-plan-today​ for being my Beta in this project. Happy Reading and Haunting! 😈🎃 🌹

Chapter 2 / Rose Red’s All Hallows Eve Masterlist

“Why the fuck we keeping her?” Edgar sneered at you. You swallowed and looked away feeling a little more exposed now it was just the five of you left. Edgar, Grey, Nam, Curtis and of course you. Somehow you've made it this far. 

Curtis searched through the room, but found little of much use, his boot pushing aside children's bodies while he went through desks and bins. Straightening, he responded finally to Edgar’s question. 

“Because she's useful, Wilford’s pet. Even if he sent her to the tail end, he hasn't lost track of her. If we kill the bitch now, what leverage do we have? Besides, she gave us information. Before we came in this car, she told me to watch out.” 

You looked down and shrugged a bit. “I didn't know it was going to be like this.” 

“Well, we could have come out of it a lot worse. I should have listened.” Curtis paused for a moment at Tonya and reached down to close the woman's eyes, sighing at the lost members of their group once more. Moving to a stand and grabbing a hold of the handle of his ax, he nodded to Nam. “We move forward.” 

This time when Curtis jerked you to his side, it wasn't as rough, checking your shoulder with prods of his fingers. “This needs to be sealed off or else you are going to get weak and pass out. I'm not dragging you along.” 

You could already feel the pain and blood loss starting to tire you out. “Next car, it’s medical, dentistry… other stuff.” You try to remember, but it's getting hazier now, doubting yourself after all the differences you’d already encountered compared to what you’d expected.

“Medic. Good. We can get them to patch us up.” Curtis nodded as he gave you a gentle push forward. Nam opened the next door and you stepped through wondering what hell you were all going to find this time. 

Thankfully, it was nice, much nicer than any of the other carriages you have been in. Wide open rooms lined the sides of a red carpet, and Curtis peeked in each one in turn as you walked down the middle. Edgar and Grey remained at the rear, clearly on guard should anything pop out. But nothing happened, in fact the people filling this cart seemed to ignore each of you completely, which suited you fine. Curtis paused at a room which contained what looked like a doctor treating a patient, and steered you in there. For the first time since you’d entered this cart someone seemed to notice you two. 

“I’m with a patient.” The doctor remarked, pulling away with a needle he had been injecting the man's face with. You couldn't help the wince you gave at the man's now unnatural looking face, much like those grinning kids that would haunt you probably for the rest of your life. 

Curtis obviously didn't give a shit, using his axe to point at the door. “Get out before I carve your heart out.” The simple threat from this menacing man left the patient scrambling to get past everyone, scoffing when he brushed against Edgar and wiping the invisible dirt from his shirt. Edgar made like he was going to throw his own weapon, lining him up. “Be so easy ya know’ Just one fling.” 

“Edgar get your ass in here and let's get you fixed up.” Curtis grunted as he eased his coat off, and then you could see where his shirt had been shredded, unaware of just how much damage he had taken. 

At first concern bloomed through your chest, worried at what you were seeing. The doctor tutted as he started to patch up Curtis’s back, muttering under his breath. Then you started to remember this man kept you alive just cause you were useful, raped you because he thought you were nothing more then Wilford’s whore and your concern melted away as fast as it had appeared.

“Get over here Little Bird and let him look at your shoulder.” Curtis snapped when you were glaring at him, as he pushed off the seat. Just as he was moving to a stand, the doctor's hand whipped out from his jacket pocket and stabbed a needle into Curtis’s neck, pushing whatever was in the vial into his system. 

With a yell Curtis whipped around and grabbed at the doctor's neck, his fingers digging into the column of his throat, but he started to collapse. Behind you the same thing was happening to Grey, Edgar and Nam, all caught unaware by guards who had seemingly appeared from nowhere, each man crumbling down into a heap on the floor. The doctor wrenched Curtis’s hand off him, and stepped away, tossing the used needle aside. You backed into a corner as the militia men came to collect each one of your captors, dragging them away. You tried to follow as they took Curtis, but the doctor stopped you sharply. “Oh I don't think so Y/N.” 

“How do you know my name?” You snapped, trying to wrench away from him. This frail but surprisingly strong man smirked. 

“Wilford already filled us in.” He stretched your arm out and used a prepared needle to stab you, even while you tried struggling. 

“Where is he? He put me in this place” You tried to get answers, wriggling to get him to release you, but whatever he injected immediately hit you. This time when you started to go under, it wasn't nearly as painful as last time and the last thing you heard was the doctor's calming voice. 

“If you survive this next couple of cars, you will meet with him.” 

And then it was nothing but darkness, blessed darkness and you hoped to stay there for the rest of the time. 

You woke to hands pawing at you, hot lips on your neck and your body being tossed back and forth as parts of your clothing got pulled off. When your eyes sprang open, you seemed to be in a pit, loud people standing above you looking down at you, laughing at your expense as they stared at you like you were an animal in a zoo. They started pouring bottles of cheap champagne over you till you were spluttering from being unable to breath without inhaling the alcohol, and they sprinkled you with something foul smelling, Even blowing the powder down at your face forcing you to inhale it. What the fuck? You try rubbing your face when everything starts fading in and out of focus, a slurred giggle bubbling from your chest. “W-what?”

Suddenly Edgar pushed you back, joined by Grey while they both jerked your pants down and you squealed in shock at the two men, each one wild eyed and giving that unnatural grin that scared you. You tried twisting away from them, desperately attempting to claw your way away. “No, no not again.” you sobbed. Just as you had almost pulled yourself free from the pit, a laughing front ender shoved their foot against your forehead and pushed you back into Grey and Edgar’s arms where they started grinding their aching bodies into your ass, hip, wherever they could while they hotly panted against your face. Whatever they gave you was making you lose your will to fight slowly, and Edgar rubbed a handful back under your nose so you breathed it in once more. Your eyes swept down to see that it was kronole and you suddenly realized that was the reason your mind was so foggy. As that thought broke through the mist in your brain you tried pulling away but to no avail.

Grey’s hands pulled you down to lay in the pit all the time the circle of people above remained jeering at your impeded state while he rutted through his clothing against you. 

You were about to be raped again and couldn't stop it. In fact you were getting to the point you didn't care, the more the kronole messed with your senses. You went limp, the two men manipulating you back and forth between them, bites to your neck and shoulders, hands grabbing your breasts through your bra…

And then, your addled mind registered a roar of rage which came from somewhere above, and a dark shadow loomed over the group standing around your pit. You shrunk back in fear, as Grey and Edgar looked up in surprise. 

Curtis dropped into the pit, clearly out of his mind too from kronole, but he was far more intimidating. “She's mine.” he snarled, and slammed both men away from you. He grabbed your hips, and jerked you against him, and his hand moved into your hair, ripping your head back viciously enough to make you scream. “Just proving my point, you’re Wilford’s whore rubbing against these boys.” He bit against your lips and pushed you back to sprawl against the ground. Grey was the first to recover, going for Curtis in a rage for being interrupted when Curtis whipped around, grabbing Grey’s head and giving a vicious wrench, twisting it till it jerked at an unnatural angle before he tossed his body out of the pit. Edgar came next, eyeing Curtis as he circled him, looking to attack. You tried to pull yourself up the wall when Curtis wrenched you back into him. 

“You couldn't get away last time, you're not getting away this time.” Above the drugged onlookers cheered, breaking more kronole and sprinkling it down over the three of you. Curtis inhaled the powder deeply once more as it settled all over his face like a dusting of ash, and his pupils blew almost black suddenly. Dropping you, he twisted and attacked Edgar, the two men unevenly matched and equally out of their minds. Curtis had the upper hand being bigger and he ended up crashing Edgar's head over and over into the steel side of the pit, once his head was completely crushed in, he let him go and turned towards you. 

Curtis was nothing but a kronole crazed demon now his face covered in the green dust of the drug. The lighting above continued shifting back and forth as more people packed in to watch, but your depraved audience faded out as the man came stalking towards you…

And then that fog descended on your brain once more and you realized you didn’t want to stop him. You were a slave to the heat rising in your chest and the clenching of your core at wanting this man to fuck you, needing him to fuck you. You scrambled over to him and leaped to wrap your arms and legs around him, grinding yourself into his tented pants, your nails digging into his jacket. You knew that if you didn’t fuck him right now, you would have to someone else. He slammed you into the wall, crushing your chest against his hard one, clearly experiencing the same madness you were, that driving need to pound into you. Edgar and Grey had done half the work before you were drugged, but now Curtis and his dirty clothes crushing the air from you was making you hotter, wetness coating the front of his pants as you gave a grind.

“Fuck me.” You finally hoarse out while trying to open the front of his pants. 

Curtis grasped your wrist and easily pinned them back, spitting in your face. “Mine, that pussy belongs to me. Fuck those boys, and Fuck Wilford.” 

You nodded and arched to give him room to get his cock out, causing you to look up, temporarily blinded once more as the partying people started to pour and throw random stuff down at you, garbage, more kronole dust, pouring that cheap champagne. But you didn't feel the stuff bouncing off you, nor did you hear the jeers at how nasty the tail enders were. No, all you could feel was Curtis as he slammed into you. So fast and hard, that you locked your legs harder around his hip, his grunts at how you were so tight around him were nothing but whooshing air right out of his lungs. Setting a brutal pace, fucking you into the wall, he used your body harshly, bruising you and you didn’t care. You didn't care that he was fisting his hand in your hair, or that his teeth were sinking into your neck and shoulders while his grunts matched each slamming slap on your body against the wall. 

For you it was satisfaction at the burn, the hard rage he was forcing into your body. Your eyes rolled back while he arched himself to bite and kiss on your breasts, marking them with broken skin and lapping the blood that started to seep down your cleavage. It felt good, all so good that you couldn't hold yourself back and started cumming on his cock with no warning. 

“Curtis- fuck I cant.” you started as he angled your hips, dragging his cock through clenching muscles and bottoming out. Those grinds against your clit, started you right back up again. 

“Mine.” was all he said, his pupils still black soulless orbs, a grin that scared the shit out of you and you could do nothing but hang on once more as he used your body, marking you every which way, forcing you open around his cock over and over till you were ragdoll limp between him and the wall until he brought you off again, crying cause it was too much. 

Then he finally jerked into you, his cum bringing you back aware at the soreness of your body, the sweaty ache and rawness where you were rubbed against him, between your thighs, sticky with a sharp ache. Your mind cleared, suddenly aware of where you were an what had happened and you took a shaky breath, your head sagging back against the wall as you fought back tears of despair. Curtis slowed, panting against your shoulder, and when he lifted away, those blue eyes you were familiar with were back, confusion as to what had happened was creased in every single line of his face, and he let your hands go, numb as they fell. You swiped your trembling hand over his kronole covered face quickly to wipe it away and you jerked his shirt over his nose.  “Don't inhale anymore!” You pleaded and he pulled away, his hands falling to your hips to hold you standing as your legs were shaking. 

“We have to get out of here. What's the next car?” He yanked his jacket off and swept it around you, covering your mouth and nose with the collar  as you tried to figure out how you two were supposed to get out and through the people, who you now realized were also out of there fucking minds from the kronole. Curtis didn't seem to hesitate though, approaching the edge, he grabbed someone's legs and yanked, sending them sprawling and laughing, pulling them over the edge and kicking at their heads. “They are so fucking out of it from kronole and alcohol that they won’t put up to much of a fight.” He kept going, smashing people down till he could crawl out, shouldering others out of the way and reaching with his hand to grasp you. You tried not to step on anyone and held onto his hand as your legs were grabbed, one of the first people recovered enough to make a snatch at you. You screamed, kicking out your legs while Curtis pulled you up. People started to crowd against him, jostling him and also grabbing at you as he managed to get you over the edge and as you straightened up you realized they were trying to push you both back in. 

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” they started chanting while Curtis kept you against his chest, pushing you away from the pit. 

Now you two were alone, weaponless, and being crowded in a mob of frontenders yelling obscenities. “Come on fuckers, we want a show.” Someone grasped at your coat and yanked you into the mob of people, you tried screaming Curtis' name but you were jostled too quickly, shifting from person to person, and you could see Curtis pushing through, trying to keep an eye on you as he split the crowd apart. 

One thing that the frontenders were not was fighters. Curtis was easily able to shove and punch his way through. You ended up getting slammed into a giant steel door with a W on it, your head colliding painfully making you see stars and you were just coming around as someone was trying to pry open your coat. You slapped at him, and kicked him away, pulling it back closed. Curtis soon joined you, roaring for people to get back which for whatever reason they did, shrinking away enough so he couldn't hit them, making threatening moves to come forward again though hoping to intimidate him. The door behind you creaked, and you grabbed the back of Curtis’s jacket to pull him through, sure that you two would be safe.

 The next room was nothing more than computers. You remembered this part of the movie, realizing that you were near the front and hopefully the end of this nightmare. Once Curtis was through, you slammed the door shut, pressing your forehead against it with a sob of fear while the crowd rushed forward, feeling the steel door shake with the force. 

“Were safe, for now.” you said as you moved to straighten, and someone other than Curtis spoke. 

“Yes, finally I’ve been waiting for a few days now for you two.” 

A shiver racked your body as ice dread filled your veins and you looked over your shoulder to see Curtis shaking too. But not in the same way you were, instead he was trembling in adrenaline and rage at the man sitting so calmly before you. Wilford smiled at the two of you as he brought a fragile cup of steaming tea to his lips and slurped it loudly, smacking his lips. “I will say though, it's been a hell of a show. Sit sit! Coffee, tea? How about a night cap?” 

You tug on Curtis’s sleeve to try to get his attention, but he's hyper fixated on Wilford, shaking you off. He storms forward to get his hands on him when Wilford pulls a gun out of his robe, aiming it for Curtis. 

“Another step Everett, and I will not hesitate. SIT.” 

With a look of absolute hatred on his face, begrudgingly Curtis did as told, whilst you remained still pressed against the door, feeling the slams of bodies pound on the door. “Come Y/N my dear, you have nothing to be worried about.” Wilford said in a manner so happy you wanted to scream at him.  

Curtis's accusing and hurt eyes turned towards you after Wilford said that, and you shook your head at him. 

“I swear Curtis, it isn't like that.” although why you were apologizing to your rapist captor you had no idea.

“I fucking know what it was like” Curtis spat “This was all a set up wasn't it?” 

Wilford gave a chuckle as he poured liquor into fancy glasses, bringing them to the table. 

“Well yes, it was a setup Curtis. But I assure you Y/N didn't know.” He pushed the glass to Curtis, and his icy blue eyes twinkled in joy. “But this is the first time you've gotten this far in a while.”

His head whipped back to Wilford. “Gotten this far?” 

“Oh yes, you don't seem to like staying in your preordained position Curtis.” Wilford sighs as he finishes his drink. You listened intently, this too wasn't right. “But such is life… or death? More like this is our death. So, time for you to return.” Wilford gave a snap of his fingers, and Curtis stiffened, moving to a stand almost robotically.

“Curtis?” you whimpered out a bit seeing him stride back towards you, everything you knew about him was missing as you gazed up at him. He brushed past you, his hand cupped your face, thumb sweeping back and forth over your cheek before whispering. “I'm sorry…” he whispered in such a broken way, your mouth just dropped, gaping at him. Gone was the rage and fight, leaving just sorrow on his face and he slipped out the door back into the crowd. You spun around to watch him disappear into the mob, Wilford watching your reaction curiously. The door slammed shut suddenly, making you jump and spin around to face the only person left with you in the room. “Why is he sorry? I don't understand what is going on, any of this. Why is he just leaving me here with you?!” your voice breaks as you're saying this, so close to just melting down at the stress and fear that was taking a toll on your body. 

“He’s sorry because he knows exactly what this place is and that he caused it. You see, before Curtis was this tailend leader, He was head of a construction crew for Rose Red, back in 1903.” Wilford seemed to struggle with remembering the date. “1904? Anyways, he was laying the foundation of Rose Red, while I was honeymooning with Ellen. I didn't want her to see any of this half finished, so we were touring across the world. Curtis had one major deadline, to finish our house in two years. I received telegraph after telegraph of nothing but issues from him. Working conditions were subpar, men were getting injured or killed in accidents of construction. The demands were unfair, pay not enough.” Wilford rolled his eyes listing the complaints, you were just listening in silence still in shock at what happened. “Finally I had enough, sent back that he was to be removed from the ground by authorities and another hired to take his place. Simple, correct?” He asked as if you were to answer. After a few seconds of those icy blue eyes staring at you he went back to the story. “Curtis thought he had all this ‘responsibility' to his men.’ Something in him snapped, and that bastard tried to stop the train I had bringing supplies in from the harbor. Curtis didn't just stop the train…” Wilford gave a chuckle of disbelief. “No, his attempts derailed the train where it sits now. Screeching metal coming to a stop, and killing hundreds of men onboard, himself included. That day is when Rose Red came to life, all that death, all at once stains the earth, the blood soaking into the dirt while they perished in the smoke and flames, trapped in steel boxes. When something that tragic happens, it stains the earth, trapped energy that allows hell on earth.”

You shook your head in disbelief, snapping out. “Impossible, whatever this is… why didn't Curtis just end you, we made it. This sick game you're playing with us. That's all this can be. I paid for an interactive experience, but not this.”  

“Whatever this is, it’s your fate little girl, accept it.” Wilford cut you off with a snap, smoothing his hands over the fine silk of his robe. “And don't worry about Curtis Y/N, he will return safely to the tail end, and start all over again, that is the way it has to be, that is what fate Rose Red wants for him.” 

You could feel bile threatening to burn its way up your throat, you couldn't let yourself believe what he was saying, as it was simply impossible. These things didn't exist, they were books and movies, tales told to tell children to scare them into behaving. Ghosts? Haunted Houses. Your mind echoed Bryce’s words earlier that night ‘You know that shit isn't real’. So what was Wilford playing at? You finally snapped, giggling, turning into laughter. Wilford ignored you, till you started screaming at him.

“YOU GO GET STACEY, CAUSE I WANT THE FUCK OFF THIS TRAIN, NOW.” your voice kept getting shriller with each word. “WHEN BRYCE HEARS ABOUT THIS, YOU CAN BET HIS GRANDFATHER WILL HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY ABOUT THIS CHARITY FUNCTION.” 

Wilford arched one brow and chuckled, moving to a stand, and wrapping his fingers around the second untouched glass. “Stacey? Y/n, you know what you saw. Wasn't Stacy’s face smashed in?” You closed your eyes, pushing down the image, chanting in your mind, not real, not real, all pretend. “Matter of factually Y/N, you have Bryce to thank for your active participation in Snowpiercer.” 

Your eyes snap open at this, narrowing on Wilford “Bryce? What does Bryce have to do with whatever this all is?” you’re confused at why your boyfriend would be mentioned and you slide along the wall to keep away from Wilford as he comes closer to you till you bump into the table and fall into Curtis’s seat. 

“Why everything Y/N. You see, Rose Red Manor is indeed haunted. My wife Ellen, that is her domain. Your boyfriend happened to break in looking for some artifacts I came back with when we were on our honeymoon in Africa. They would be considered valuable now, but my grandson didn't care to have my collection so they remained in the manor. Bryce though, well he admired the pieces, wanted to study them.” Wilford gave a shake of his head with a sigh. “Bryce was of course killed by Ellen. Her rage towards me, makes her banish men's souls to the ground.” 

And then your mind recalled the story, Rimbauer infected his wife with some unknown disease while they were on their exotic honeymoon, that was why the rumors went that men who entered Rose Red were gruesomely killed, where women simply disappeared to never be seen again…

“Bryce isn't dead, I saw him. I talked to him tonight.” You shook your head

“Yes, he's very much alive now Dear, but he wasn’t for a time. His body was stuck in the house, ready to rot right where Ellen killed him. But she banished his soul from the house, and left Bryce's soul wandering the grounds, he happened to stumble upon my part of Rose Red, what luck.” Wilford sipped from the glass, swirling it a bit. “You know I miss the real stuff?” shrugging he set it down. “Bryce happened to find me, begging to be brought back, and would give anything to return to the living. I had no interest, all that matters is Rose Red has fresh souls to feed off of. But your boyfriend made a proposition that I was intrigued with. An innocent soul in his place. Do you know how valuable an innocent soul is? So much more to give, cruel I know, the unfairness of using something so pure and innocent to keep his parasite of a house alive. But I must do what can to keep my Ellen happy in life or death. It is my fault she has to live eternity like this.” His cold fingers traced your face, you wrenching back out of his touch.  

“No… he wouldn't do that, he wouldn’t sacrifice me…” you whispered, your throat closing and your heart slamming in your chest. And then the wave of realization crashed over you. of course he would. Bryce was the most selfish man you've ever met. 

Wilford tsked a bit. “Well one innocent soul isn't enough to feed Rose Red, to give the house enough energy to keep building like Ellen wants. The house must keep growing, Ellen’s soul would die and fade away if she couldn't keep adding more to her collection. I told Bryce two innocent souls, delivered by tonight, and he could leave alive and free. But don't worry, Bryce will pay eventually, you can't make a deal with a devil and expect to walk away untainted.”  

Not Stacey too. You screamed internally. No wonder Bryce insisted you take her as well. 

“I must be asleep, a nightmare.” You spit out, your hands shaking as you rubbed at them, trying to wipe off the dried blood, hoping it would wake you up, that all this was some kind of crazy your mind made up. Wilford almost looked sympathetic when he spoke again.

“I’m afraid not Dear. Bryce told me about how you loved this Snowpiercer story, so I figured if you're going to be condemned to this, might as well be enjoyable.” 

“I don't want to be condemned! Please how can I get out of this?” You started to figure out ways to bargain, like Bryce apparently did. But Wilford responded with a mere shake of the head.

“Ahh, that won't be happening. Innocent souls are much stronger. Rose Red can keep building now… many years on you alone. Ellen will be much pleased. Curtis also likes you as well, he was always one of my favorite victims of Rose Red.” Wilford leaned back in his chair. “Since he's banished to an eternity of hell, he deserves someone to make it easier. His own little songbird singing him hope. Any other girl I’ve sent him, he always ends up murdering her before he gets cut down.” 

You were whipping your head back and forth, pushing to a stand to start looking for a way out, anyway to get off the train, and Wilford just watched you for a moment processing all that he was saying. 

“If it's any help, you will be joined with Stacey again. Maybe your next trip to the front, you will manage to keep her alive.” Wilford moved to a stand as you tried to open the door, yanking on it to open, when he twisted you to face him, your bottom lip trembling as you looked up at him. 

“Please… I don't deserve this.” you whimpered. 

“You don’t Dear, but you're going to endure it as we all must. Very few victims of Rose Red actually deserve the fate that has befallen them.” He plucked the Rose from his breast pocket from earlier and laced it through your hair while you trembled, tears rolling down your face as you started to accept the truth of it all.

“You're not going to let me off this train, are you?” your voice trembled with defeat, and Wilford shook his head. 

“No, you now belong to Curtis Dear. His one reward for his life of hell. Although I will leave you with a parting gift. Your memory will remain so you can help him make his way through the Cars to the end. Save you from some of the pain of being brutally killed.” fear washed over your face and Wilford smiled gently to reassure you, although there was no way it was going to make you feel any better, be less afraid. “I will be seeing you again soon Dear.” Wilford said softly before he leaned forward and kissed your forehead, your eyes closing in defeat. 

You opened to darkness, gasping as you tried to understand where you were. It was intensely cold again, and a dim light came into your view, a tiny fire from a match. A familiar face loomed from the darkness to rake cerulean eyes over you, his head tilting as he looked you up and down. 

“Wilford sent us a present.” 

No, not again. You think as you're dropping to your knees to beg Curtis not to hurt you. “Please, have mercy on me.” 

“Mercy? Were we ever shown any mercy? I don't know what Wilford was thinking Little Bird, sending you back to me with this innocent act of yours. But don’t worry I will make you sing.” 

And then he gave a shake of his wrist, killing the match and plunging you both back into the darkness.

Your hell started all over again.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

FIGHT ME!

Juan Carlos “Juice” Ortiz x Reader

Anon asked: Hi, I was wondering if I could request a Juice x reader imagine where Juice is best friends with the reader and they have feelings for each other but they both refuse to admit it, & one gets jealous of the other bc they see them w/ someone else and they argue a little & end up confessing their feelings? A fluffy ending would be great! Only if you're comfortable writing it!

Word Count: 1k

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford ​ ✨

Author comments: I'm sorry it took me so long! I just needed some time away from my phone, 'cause I was feeling somewhat sick, but I'm back! I hope you all enjoy. Gif isn't mine, credits to the author.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 ​ @chibsytelford ​ @dazzledamazon ​ @mara-mpou ​ @sammskellington ​ @gemini0410 ​ @1-800-imagines ​ @briana-mishell24 ​@sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

“What's up, sweetheart?”

“Is everything okay?” With all the noise at the other side of the phone, you can't help but raise an eyebrow with curious.

“Yeah, ye— OH, DAMN! YOU GOT IT, CHIBS? YOU GOT IT?” Jax is laughing hard, having to pull the phone a way just a little of your ear. “HOLY SHIT, MAN”.

“What was that?”

“JUICE JUST TACKLED TIG!”

“What the hell?!”

“Yeah, but don' worry. Chibs is recording it for you”. The scottish laughs appears too behind the male voice. “But seems like your pitbull it's gonna need his vet. Can you come?”

You snort rubbing your forehead, nodding even if he can't see you.

“Give me some minutes. And, please, Jax. Separate them”.

“Nah, we're having fun”.

The clubhouse is a mess. There are broken stools everywhere, crystals around the floor and a torn table in pieces. Bobby, Happy and Chibs are watching the recorded fight, sitting on the bar and sharing some beers. Jax is close to Tig, being healed by one of the waitress of the club. His face is such a mess of blood and open wounds. When he sees you, he tries to get up. You know well that Tig has the fault, because he probably said something about you that Juice didn't like. So if he talks you at this exact moment, you're going end up punching him.

Following the blood drops on the floor, as if you were in the tale of Hansel and Gretel, lead you to his old dorm. Coming in and closing the door behind your back, you find the man sitting on the edge of the bed with his head down. You have take care of his face more times than you can remember, through the years. Juice is your best friend, you have to.

“Hey, baby boy”. You whisper kneeling in front of him.

He usually is too altered and the most simple move can make him feel more nervous. So, taking his hands with one of yours, you use the other to raise up his face by his chin. He's not as bad as Tig. But he has some small gasps on his left cheek and on his upper lip. You smirk softly, leaving a kiss on the right cheek totally immaculate, before wetting some cotton with alcohol with the medical stuff that Jackie left over the bed.

Making a place for yourself between his legs, you start your new task and also one of your favorites. Focused in cleaning every inch of skin stained by his own blood, you put two small stitches on his cheek, not being able to do too much with his lip.

“What happened?”

Juice shrugs his shoulders and his gaze lost in nowhere. For a reason you don't know, he doesn't want look at you. Grabbing again his chin, you force him, pouting at your friend.

“The same shit, as always. Tig. Bad jokes. Dirty comments”. He sighs shaking his head, while he find your orbs. “I just… Fuck, (Y/N)! He's always talking bullshit and I don't care what he says about the rest. But not with you. No”.

“Tig loves to provoke you. Stop being so dumb”. You laugh before cleaning the small mess over the red carpet, to throw it into the paper bin.

“I don' enjoy the fact of listening him talking about his dick fuckin' you, as hard as he claims”.

“Yeah, but that's not gonna happen”.

“I hope so”. And even if he thinks you haven't heard him from the bathroom, you have.

“Do you?”

“Uh?”

“Don' play fool with me, Juan Carlos. I know you better than anyone…” Resting your body against the door frame, you raise an eyebrow with curiosity feeling some chills down to your spine.

“It's annoyin' hearing all these shit, that's all”.

“Oh, really?”

“Don' look at me like t—”.

“Are you jealous?”

Juice starts gasping for meaningless words, noticing how his body begins to tense when you walk step by step in slow motion towards him.

“Stop looking at me like that…” He growls crossing both arms about his chest.

Narrowing your eyes, you lean towards him while he's bending backwards slightly. The Sons' licks his lips in a nervous gesture, having to support his weight by his palm on the mattress. You can hear how his heart is jumping once and again, because you're teasing him without mercy.

“Respect my pe—personal space, (Y/N)”.

“Or what?” You challenge him, leaning forward just a little more. “Recognize you are jealous, Juice”.

“No”.

“You're not gonna recognize?”

“No”.

“You already did”.

He swallows hard, tangling his fingers in the blankets pulling away his gaze. Without him expecting it, you place both hands on his neck crashing your lips on his. At first, Juice doesn't make any move, trying to clarify in his head what is happening. He tastes like beer mixed with peroxide, drawing a sotf pain gesture when he finally kisses you back forgetting about the wound. His hands moving slowly, touring the bed until they reach your waist pushing you inchmeal over his lap, with his legs among yours as he assimilates it.

You've been wanting it so bad since you met him, and seems like he feels the same, when the kiss gets more anxious with an evident lack of air for not wanting to stop it. But you pull yourself away some inches when your phone dings. You know that Chibs have send you the video. Placing an arm on Juice's shoulders, you take it off of your pocket.

“Please, don't”. He begs you, trying to catch the phone with an arm surrounding your waist.

“Stop! I wanna see the tackle!” You laugh loud, while he sinks his reddened face on your neck ashamed.

Playing it you can see how Juice and Tig are pushing each other, until your friend takes a run to push the older into the table. Breaking it. You can't help but break in laughter hearing Jackson's voice talking with you close to Chibs.

“Sweet Jesus Christ, Juice!”

You can't stop laughing while he chuckles looking at you with a funny gesture on his face.

“I just lose my shit. You should have heard everything he said about you!” He's trying to excuse himself, interrupting him with another kiss.

At least, he has earned something good of the fight.

[ererokii]

Collision || Izuku Midoriya

Izuku Midoriya x Fem! Reader x Eren Jaeger

Warnings: mentions of death, violence, blood, cussing, mention of pinning, humor, fluff

Word Count: 15,084

Synopsis: After a hard day of training, Izuku drifts off into a new state of mind and meets different people who fight against humanoid creatures to survive.

Taglist (message to be added): @pixxiesdust​ @kingtamakimurder​ @shoutosteakettle​ @hawks-senseis​ @saltie​ @shoutodoki​ @sugacookiies​ @fryingpanitachi​ @wesparklebitch @diorsho

➺ Note: This is for the @bnhabookclub’s bingo event is The prompt is Anime Crossover. If you haven’t watched/read Attack on Titan, I suggest you do before this! This contains spoilers from season 1.  Big thank you to @shoutosteakettle @diorsho @kingtamakimurder and @pixxiesdust for betaing this!

Bingo Masterlist

“Keep pushing yourself! You’ll never know your full potential if you just give up!” Aizawa’s voice boomed throughout the field, his black eyes scanning the area for any type of fooling around. “Come on, you’re almost done! Finish!”

The students of Class 1-A were on the brink of defeat, each of their bodies begging for a break. Today was no different from other days. Aizawa explained that the class would be sparring for an hour. Of course, this being a usual thing, the students just nodded and took what came to them. Except for this time, they were to run three miles without using their quirks. “You guys need to build up your stamina, and now is the perfect time to do so,” were the words from their teacher. Each student cried in horror, but to no avail, he didn’t care. He wanted them to be the best and reach their full potential. If this is what it takes, so be it. Who would've thought it would be this hard.

Midoriya coughed into his sleeve, gasping for air as bullets of sweat dribbled down his face. His body was on fire, yet he continued to push forward. His legs were screaming at him to stop, to collapse where he was at, and pass out at any moment. He desperately wanted to but knew what the consequences would be if he listened. 

He followed the curve of the dirt path, breathing heavily. He grunted and put his head down, moving his arms in sync with his legs' pace to help him out. “One...one more!” he whispered yelled to himself, wiping the beads of sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. 

He could hear the whines from his classmates behind him, each of them begging their teacher to stop this madness he called training. 

“T-this is too much!” Mina panted, her pace slowing down with each second that passed, her legs ready to fall underneath her. Beside her was Kaminari, who simply nodded in agreement. Both of them were lagging behind more than the others.

“W-we’re almost done, r-right, Tsu?!” Uraraka yelled out for the green-haired girl who was in front of her. 

“Ribbit.” Tsu replied weakly, her body hunched over, her pace almost walk like, her hands by her side. 

“Out of my way!” Bakugou yelled and sprinted past everyone, catching up to Midoriya. His hands were clenched to contain the sweat from coming out and causing an explosion, something he didn’t want to happen at all. “Deku!!”

Midoriya’s eyes widened as he picked up the pace, ignoring the burning hole of Bakugou’s intense stare. He lifted his head and spotted Aizawa, who wasn’t that far away. ‘There!’ he thought. The sound of heavy footsteps got louder and louder to the point where they were heard right beside Midoriya’s body. 

“I won’t let you win!!”

“N-not a race!” Midoriya choked out, refusing to give into the pain. The end line got closer and closer with each step he took. 

From his left came another pair of footsteps. He whipped his head and caught sight of red and white hair. Todoroki was beside him, passing him up by a step or two. ‘H-he’s not even tired!’ Midoriya thought in shock, slowing himself down to a jog. Todoroki let out small pants, his form perfect. 

Midoriya passed the end line right after Bakugou, who came behind Todoroki. 

“You damn Icy-Hot!” Bakugou yelled, opening his palms, a variety of yellows and oranges emitting from his hands in an explosion. 

“Bakugou,” Aizawa sternly said, his eyes glowing red, a display of his first warning. Bakugou grumbled in annoyance, lowering his hands to his sides in defeat. Their teacher blinked as his hair fell back to the normal length, looking off to the side at the crowd of incoming students. “About time you all finished. I could have taken a nap, but I had to wait for each and every one of you instead.”

“W-we’re sorry, Mr. Aizawa!” the crowd yelled in agony, all leaning over to place their hands on their knees, gasping for as much air as their lungs could take. 

He watched them before turning around to face the other three. “Good job. Could have been done faster but this is acceptable for not using your quirks. Everyone!” he yelled, taking a step back as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants. “We’re done for today. Head back to the dorms and clean yourselves up. Tomorrow is your rest day, use it well. Don’t let me catch you guys doing something you aren’t supposed to.”

Aizawa let out a low groan at his unresponsive students. “Take your time,” was all he said before making his leave off the field. 

“I can’t even move my legs anymore!” Momo gasped, tilting her head back as her shoulders heaved up and down. 

“Alright, everyone up! The longer we wait around the more tired we will be! If you have to walk slower than normal then proceed to do so!” Iida took his glasses off, wiping the sweat from the lenses with the sleeve of his shirt. 

Groans emitted from different students, some begging to just be left on the floor, others begging to be carried by someone else. 

Midoriya helped his friends off the floor with his weakened arms.

“Thanks Deku,” Uraraka whispered tiredly and rubbed the back of her neck. “How were you able to finish so well? You didn’t even look tired from where I was!”

Midoriya grew quiet, his eyes focused on the scars that remained on his hands. A subtle reminder that showed his progress from the beginning till now. Each day he surprises himself with the amount of goals he could complete that he didn’t know he could. “I don’t know,” he whispered, bringing his fingers to the center of his palm. “All I know is that I will continue to give my all!”

Uraraka stared up at him in awe, bringing a hand to her chest. “Well if you’re going to give it your all, I will too!”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Everyone rushed to their showers, some even fighting for a good spot. 

Midoriya found himself eating his dinner faster than normal. After cleaning his dish, he immediately made his way up the stairs after saying goodnight to his classmates, desperate to hit his head on the pillow and let sleep take over him. 

Every night before he went to bed, he always called his mom. A reassurance thing she asked for before she let him move into the dorms. It made her feel that he was safe at all times, even though it wasn’t the case sometimes.

He tiredly turned his phone off and charged it on the bedside table, letting it fall out of his hand. 

“So...so tired,” he whispered, and yawned into the air around him, stretching his body. He winced, already feeling the soreness appearing in his muscles. He stared up at the ceiling, bringing the bed sheets up to his underarms, hands resting on top of the cover. 

The longer he stared, the heavier his eyelids felt. His eyes fluttered shut as his body relaxed, all the tension dissolving away. His chest soon heaved up and down in a slow rhythm, small puffs of air entering and leaving his mouth. Soon enough he was in a deep sleep, one that no one could awaken him from.

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

The ground felt fluffy yet rough at the same time. Was that mud? Was the ground moving? Why was it shaking? It felt like an earthquake kept happening every 10 seconds. A powerful step caused the earth beneath to tremble in fear. Was he dreaming? Was this some simulator the teachers put up for the students again?

Another powerful wave shook the earth yet again. Midoriya’s eyes flew open, as he gasped in fear. He immediately looked up and came face to face with a mixture of blues and greens, clouds swirling around freely.

“What is this,” he whispered to himself, slowly sitting up. His arms felt heavier as he looked down, noticing he was wearing his hero costume. He rubbed the gear for his arms with a finger in suspicion. “Why am I wearing this?”

“Thank god you’re awake, Deku!”

Uraraka? 

“Huh?! W-what are you doing here, Uraraka?!” He looked around and noticed that his friends were surrounding him, all wearing their hero costumes. “W-why are you guys wearing your costumes?!”

“Beats me. I’m more concerned about where we are exactly,” Todoroki mumbled, eyeing the area around him.

A field of nothing but grass. Houses were in the distance. Were they abandoned? Did people live all the way out here from Musutafu? 

Now that Midoriya thought about it, shouldn’t they be able to figure out where they are by comparing their surroundings to pictures on the internet? He rubbed the side of his head. “Does anyone have their phone on them?”

“I don’t have mine.”

“Mine is in my fucking room.”

“I don’t have service.”

Answers of defeat filled the group of friends, Midoriya sighed and stood up, wiping the mud off his suit. “Well, we can’t just sit here and wait. We have to go looking around for someone to help us.”

“Are you fucking crazy? Do you see people around here?! Cause I for sure don’t!” Bakugou yelled, hitting his gauntlets together. “I don’t see shit!”

“Bakugou, don’t use that type of language! We may not know where we are at but we still represent UA!”

Bakugou yelled and lifted his hands above his head, creating a large beam of explosions. 

Everything seems still. Not a noise in sight besides the heavy breathing coming from Bakugou. Tsuyu lowered herself to the ground, feeling the dirt patches with her fingers. “It’s shaking.”

This caught the attention of everyone.

“What do you mean by shaking?” Todoroki questioned, squatting beside her to see what she was talking about. 

Todoroki got quiet and looked around for the source. “She’s right. It’s shaking.”

Midoriya felt his head cloud up with thoughts. “That’s impossible. It can’t be shaking if we’re the only ones here. Right? I don’t see anyone besides us. It doesn’t make sense,” he mumbled, rubbing his chin in thought as he stared up at the sky. “Unless we can’t see our opponent.”

“You mean someone like Hagakure, Midoriya?” Iida asked, holding his helmet by his side.

“That’s exactly what I mean. But then someone our size couldn’t cause this much trouble.”

“Could it be someone like Mt. Lady maybe?” Uraraka looked over at Midoriya, noticing how tense his body was. 

He nodded and sighed. “Maybe we sh-”

The stomping noise in the background grew louder and louder. They felt as if the ground would break and swallow them whole. Incoherent groans became louder. The presence of something bigger than they have ever seen was approaching from behind.

Midoriya looked over his shoulders and felt his soul leave his body, his eyes bulging out of their sockets. 

A naked creature that resembled a human-like body ran toward them. It was even larger than Mt. Lady. Blood dripped from its mouth and landed on the roundness of its stomach. Patches of purple and red covered the body. It had a sick grin that made them all shiver where they stood. 

“What the hell is that thing?!” Bakugou yelled in shock, his own eyes wide as he stilled in fear.

The thing froze in place, each student on alert for its next move.

“I’ve never seen a simulation like this,” Tsu whispered, staying in a crouched position alongside Todoroki. 

“No one move. Maybe it won’t be able to see us,” Iida suggested, his eyes narrowing.

The creature leaned back, then forward again, taking off towards them in a sprint. Its attention was focused on the warmth of the students’ bodies, thirsty to feed itself.  

They all screamed in terror, each getting ready to use their quirk if needed.

“I’ll blow its damn head off!!” Bakugou shouted, opening his palms.

“A 15 meter, Captain!!”

“Move!”

In the blink of an eye, a hook like material shot out from the trees, catching the eye of the creature. A body flew from the shadows and swung itself around the humanoid creature before speeding up towards the nape of its neck, slashing a clean cut, making the creature freeze up and fall to its knees. 

The new arrival let out an annoyed sigh, watching the blood of the creature evaporate into thin air. “I hate these things.” 

“Another nice kill, Captain Levi! Although I’m coming close to being like you.”

“Cut the crap Oluo. No one cares that you’re trying to imitate the Captain.”

“Oh Petra, don’t you worry about that.”

“I hope you choke on your tongue!”

Midoriya gaped at the small man, who was staring at his blades. “H-he just took it down with one swift move!”

“Hm?” Levi looked up and narrowed his eyes, readying his blades. “Who the hell are you brats? How did you make it outside the wall without permission?”

“The wall?” Uraraka asked. “What wall are you talking about?”

“Sir, they aren’t even in uniform. I’ve never even seen anyone make whatever they are wearing.” Eld spoke from beside him, eyeing each student from head to toe. 

Midoriya studied their uniform. A green cape was tied around their neck and flowed behind them with the wind. A brown fitted jacket was underneath that was long at the arms but cut short at the torso. The shirt under the jacket had brown straps going across the chest that wrapped around to what Midoriya assumed was their back, leading to the brown belt that resided on their hips. It looked like a brown spandex at the top of their thighs, more straps peeked out from underneath, wrapping around their thighs till it went lower until it was hidden by the brown boots. 

‘A different type of costume? Well they all have the same thing on,’ he thought and coughed awkwardly. “Um, we don’t even know where we are. We just ended up here.”

“Ended up here, huh?” the man asked and sheathed his blades back into the grey boxes that rested beside his thighs.

“That’s a cool costume you got there!” Uraraka stared in awe as she stared at the group of people behind the short black haired man. 

“Costume? Look kid, I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but it’s not cute!” The curly brown haired man said, unsheathing his blades, his fingers holding a vice like grip on the handle, a menacing look in his eyes. “Just give the go ahead Captain!”

After his movements, the rest of the group followed suit, ready to attack at any moment. 

“We don’t mean any harm! We don’t know where we are at sir!” Iida said, shoving a hand in front of his body, Uraraka and Tsu holding onto each other in terror while Todoroki and Bakugou watched in silence, hands by their sides. 

“Blades down,” the short man instructed.

“But s-sir we don’t know if they have abilities li-”

“I said blades down!” he shouted, turning around to face them. “That was an order.”

They all eyed each other, silently communicating before putting the blades away.

Midoriya felt his heart go many miles per hour, his heart threatening to explode from the inside out. His hands twitched at his sides. Who were these people? Why would they jump a bunch of lost kids?

He looked up and made eye contact with the strawberry blonde. Her gaze was not how it was before when she bantered. No, her eyes were like those of a predator eyeing its prey, waiting for a slip up to pounce at any given moment. He gulped and took a step forward, wary of what they might do if he moved too quickly.“E-excuse me sir. We just need help getting back to Musutafu.”

“Musutafu? Where is that? In all my years, I’ve never heard of that place.”

Midoriya’s face went pale.

“You look like you just took the biggest shit.” He sighed and grabbed the rein’s of his black horse. “We better keep going or at this rate more abnormals will appear. Can you at least walk?”

“Y-yes sir, we can!”

“Get a move on. Walk in front of us. We’ll surround you from the sides and the back. Go. Now,” he commanded, his narrowed grey eyes following the group of bodies as they began to walk hesitantly in front of them.

‘We need to keep ourselves ready for anything,’ Midoria thought to himself as he peeked over his shoulder, his green eyes catching sight of the blond’s eyes. The blond was focused, looking forward at all times. He was tense by the looks of it. One of his hands was gripping the reins of the horse, the other hand was placed on the grey box. 

‘Who are these guys?’ he wondered and faced forward once again, his green curls bouncing with each step he took. 

He glanced over at Bakugou, who was even silent for once. ‘Is he scared like the rest of us then? Todoroki too?’

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

A big cement wall loomed before them as they approached, the brick gate with an outline of a girl—a princess—was being lifted off of the ground. As they walked inside, the gate slammed shut, the group of students jolting at the noise.

Hundreds of houses filled the vicinity, the main street full of a small city life. Children ran around without a care in the world. Men and women were working in small or large stands to provide for their family. 

Midoriya noticed the change of clothes. Instead of shorts, tank tops or regular shirts, they were replaced with clothes of rough cloth. The pants were a little above the ankle, everyone wearing a coat or not, in some cases, a scarf. 

“L-look! It’s the Levi Squad!!”

“So that must be his name,” Todoroki mumbled quietly, keeping his hard gaze displayed on his face. 

“Spare me, please,” Levi mumbled to himself, ignoring the bright stares from people of all ages. 

“Uh excuse me but—” Uraraka scooted closer to the female, gulping when the strawberry blond looked down at her. “—where exactly are we?”

“We’re in Wall Rose. The middle of the three walls.”

“Walls? If this is the middle, what happened to the first?”

“Destroyed. The Colossal Titan broke the gate, titans breaching inside and ate more than half of the civilians living in Wall Maria.”

Her demeanor dropped quickly as she took a step away, the brunette looking down at the pink of her shoes. “Oh,” was all she said. 

“Damn these kids talk so much, huh?” Oluo yawned loudly to purposely irritate Petra. 

Petra shook her head. “You act as if you don’t talk our ears off.”

“Oh but I know you lov-” His horse’s foot hit a rock, and the man jolted up as his teeth clamped around his tongue, his eyes widening as he let out a shriek of terror.

“I-is he okay?!” Midoriya gasped, blinking in surprise at the sudden change of mood. 

“Yeah. Just ignore him. One day I’m hoping he bleeds to death like that,” Petra said in a playful tone, but deep down she meant what she said. 

As they continued on, an old castle came into view. It was shabby, hands down. Vines surrounded the area in patterns that didn’t make sense. The door was sealed shut with iron bars.

“A castle?! Are you guys a bunch of princesses or something?! Is this some fucking fairytale?!”

“Oh wow, kid’s got spunk. I like that one.”

“Shut up, Oluo. No one cares what you like.” The blond, who they came to find out was named Eld, said with a disapproving shake of his head. 

“Huh?! Some do! Isn’t that right Petra?”

“Say that again and I’ll cut your tongue and force it down your throat.”

Oluo let out a booming laugh, his hands up in a mocking motion. “Oh just wait till we get married, dear! We’re practically bickering like an old married couple!”

“Captain Levi!!”

“Oh here comes the other one we forgot.” Oluo sighed in annoyance, getting off of his horse and tying the rein to the stable. 

A brunette with turquoise eyes came running up to the smaller man, stopping in front of him and placed his right fist to his heart, his left fist resting on the small of his back. “Glad to see you back, Sir!”

“Relax before you hurt yourself brat.”

“Sir!”

“Where’s Y/N?”

“She’s cleaning the room like you asked before you left!”

An approving nod escaped Levi’s throat, moving out of the way as one of his arms extended to the group of kids. “Introduce yourself.”

Eren let out an awkward cough, straightening his posture. “I’m Eren Jaeger! Pleasure to meet you all!”

Midoriya eyed him up and down quickly before stepping forward. “I’m Izuku Midoriya. That one is Ochako Uraraka, the one next to her is Tsuyu Asui. The blond is Katuski Bakugou, the one behind him is Tenya Iida and the red and white haired one is Shouto Todoroki.” he said, making sure to describe each of them so they knew who was who.

“Great. Now that this is done, we have to make preparations for the upcoming expeditions. Eren, go get Y/N for me.”

“Yes sir!” Eren saluted once more before taking off in the direction of the castle, swinging the doors open and slammed them behind them.

“Tch. That brat, I told him not to slam them anymore.”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Eren ran through the quiet halls, the soles of his shoes hitting the rugged floor with each step he took. After the attack on the Trost District, he was brought up and joined the Levi squad, known as the Special Operations Unit, after Levi vowed to watch over him and would kill him if it came to that. 

Everyday when he woke up in a sweaty shirt that was once clean, in that dirty cell at the bottom of the castle, the terrors that happened in the past five years would be on replay. The death of his mother, Carla Jaeger was something he could never forget. He remembers the look of fear in her eyes. She didn’t want to die. No one did. Sometimes throughout the day, he would get flashes of the death of people from his squad, specifically Mina and Thomas. 

With the newfound power he had now, he could save those that not even Captain Levi could. When Hanji experimented on him for the first time, he remembered the look in Squad Levi’s eyes. All of them weren’t afraid to kill him, they were just fulfilling their duties as soldiers. 

After Levi vowed to watch over Eren, he also brought another soldier with him. This soldier was tied for first place with Mikasa Ackerman within the 104th Cadet Corps. Of course the higher ups were wary of Levi’s decision but trusted his judgement nonetheless. 

“Y/N! Captain Levi is calling you!”

Your eyes widened as you whipped around, holding the broomstick in between your hands in fear. “W-why?! I didn’t do anything right?! Oh god I knew I should've cleaned the stables before he asked!”

Eren tilted his head slightly and shook his head. “No. There are new people outside.”

“New people? Like new joins?”

“That’s the thing,” he started off and removed the piece of cloth around his neck, folding it. “I’ve never seen these people throughout our training years. Plus the clothes they wore are kinda, uh, ugly.”

A small giggle escaped as you leaned the broom against the wall. “They sound hideous already. Did he say why he needed me?”

“No, but I suggest you go now. I can go with you if you like. He probably needs both of us!”

“That’s kind of you, but I can go by myself Eren.”

“Y-you’ll get lost!”

You stared at him for a couple of seconds before approaching him, placing the back of your hand against his forehead. “Did they push you too hard? I’m sure if you ask for a break they’ll give it to you!”

With a growl, he pushed your hand off of his forehead, the shell of his ear turning red. “I’m fine!” His ears only turned red when he began to lie. “J-just get going! I’ll be out there soon!”

Your shoulders shook as your laugh blessed Eren’s red ears. “Alright alright! I’m going! Don’t hurt yourself, big boy,” you teased, sliding a finger under the strap on his back and pulled it, releasing it as it hit his back, a shriek emitting from the brunette’s mouth. 

“H-hey!” he yelled, his foot stomping against the ground as he turned on his heel to get back at you but you were long gone already. He let out a deep sigh, a small smile gracing his features. His turquoise eyes glanced around the room before walking out the door. “This should be fine.” He reached out behind him, hand wrapping around the doorknob and slammed the door shut. 

When he first joined the Scouts, he was always reminded in some shape or form on how much of a bloodthirsty monster he was. Of course he couldn’t fight back. He was chained most of the time when he wasn’t above helping Levi and the others. Eren considered you to be one of his trusted allies. When both of you were brought up, you stuck with each other no matter what. Every night before he went to bed, you would always visit him and listen to him talk. Talk about how poorly he was treated when he asked for basic things such as water or if he could use the bathroom. It broke your heart to hear him speak that way and watch the waterfall of tears escape its confinements. 

Maybe that’s why Eren started to feel a certain way towards you. One that caused his whole face to heat up, made him feel sick to his stomach in a good way, or made him feel that he always had to protect you with his whole being. Eren knew he held feelings for you deep in his heart, but couldn’t say anything yet. When the time was right, he would bring it up.

He made a promise to himself, that you would see the outside world, with or without him. 

As you walked down the halls to the outside, your smile immediately dropped as you passed by fellow soldiers. Instead it was replaced with a smirk. “He’s cute. Maybe I’ll date him before I’m found out. Or maybe I’ll convince him.”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

You rolled your head to lean against your shoulder, a loud groan leaving your lips. “Fuck, let’s do this.” You let out a deep breath and placed your hands on the wood, swinging them open. “C-Captain Levi! Eren said you needed me!” you panted softly, walking towards his smaller body. “I-I’m not in trouble am I?!”

“Yeah. Show these kids around. We can’t have them lounging around anywhere.”

You glanced over the brightly dressed group of people. ‘Oh. Eren was right about this,’ you thought and nodded. “Yes sir!” You glanced over at Petra and waved excitedly. Out of everyone from the Levi Squad, she was by far your favorite. 

Petra enjoyed your enthusiasm. She thought it was much needed in such a depressing place. 

“Oh she’s cute! I call dibs!” Bakugou yelled, startling you slightly. 

Midoriya gasped. “Kacchan you can’t say things like that!”

“The hell I can!!”

You laughed nervously and rubbed the back of your head. “Uh..thank you? I guess? Anyway my name is Y/N Y/LN! I’m a part of Squad Levi just like Eren, the angry one that was here before me!”

“I told you I’m not angry!!”

You gasped in happiness and clasped your hands together, bringing them to rest against your cheek. “My hero is here!!”

Eren stumbled over his own feet and stuttered noises out. Levi sighed and brought his hand up and slapped Eren across the head. 

Uraraka gasped in fear. “Y-you hit him!”

“He always does. Don’t worry too much about it,” Eld replied. “Y/N shouldn’t you show them around, like the Captain said?”

“Oh yeah! Sometimes I just get ahead of myself! Come on!” You looked over them before sticking your index finger out. “You! You look smart! I’m talking with you.”

Midoriya stared at your finger and nodded slowly. “Alright then. Come on, guys.” He waved to his group of friends, Bakugou growling in annoyance. 

“Stupid Deku,” he mumbled. 

Opening the doors inside, you watched each of them go inside then followed them from behind.

“Wait!”

“Bye Eren!” You laughed and shut the doors before he got any closer. You could hear a loud groan. 

“So those people,they are your...team?” Iida said awkwardly, rubbing the back on his neck.

You nodded. “Uh huh. The short one is our Captain. I bet when they saw you they were gonna kill you huh?”

“How did you know that?” Tsuyu asked, somewhat interested if you had a special quirk. “Do you have a quirk?”

“A quirk? What’s that?”

“A quirk is something that we’re born with but doesn’t manifest till the age of four or five. Some people don’t get a quirk.” Todoroki chimed in coolly, running his hands on the grey walls of the hallway.

You opened your mouth to say something but decided to close it. “Nope! Don’t have one. Never heard of that anyway. I don’t think anyone here has… a power like that. Well except Eren of course!”

“That’s dude out there? Does he have a quirk?! What is it?!” Midoriya gasped in surprise, taking you by surprise.

“O-Oh! He can become a 15 meter titan and control it!” you stuttered out, your cheeks darkening. He was cute, you had to give it to him. 

“That’s awesome! He’s just like Mt. Lady! But here!”

“Shut up nerd, no one cares about that.”

“Bakugou! You can’t talk like that to Midoriya!”

“And who are these people?! I have never seen them in my life! Y/N where did you get them from?!”

In front of you stood a rather tall woman, wearing glasses with an elastic band that went around her head. Her hair was in a messy ponytail, strands sticking out.

“Hanji!” you saluted her, the group behind you surprised by the sudden change of behavior. “Squad Levi found them outside the walls and brought them along!”

“Outside?!” she whispered yelled. “How did you guys end up outside the walls without permission?!”

“We didn’t, four eyes! The short stack out there just found us and brought us to this hell hole!”

A howling laugh left her mouth, clapping her hands together. “I like you!!” she stopped laughing and turned towards you. “We have even bigger news. The 57th Expedition is coming up. And we’re bringing members from the 104th Corps. Plus my two test subjects were killed two days ago. Everyone is getting their gear checked. We don’t know who it is yet, but we need to find out soon.”

In the back of your mind, a voice was laughing, taunting them for their stupidity. For people as intelligent as they were, they needed to open their eyes to realize the truth. You had a mask on. One that everyone would see soon. If you were slick enough, you could wear it for a bit longer. 

“I heard about that, but Eren and I weren’t able to stay for long. Commander Erwin asked us a difficult question that we didn’t know how to answer.”

Hanji nodded in thought, kicking at the ground. “He told me what he asked. It sounds difficult for someone who doesn’t know what’s going on.”

“Sorry to interject but--” Midoriya chimed in, taking a step forward. “Maybe we can help? We are training for things like this.”

“Oh? You are? Well I don’t see why we would say no. Follow me.”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

You stood in the back, watching Hanji interact with Midoriya. He was pretty spot on with his observations. He reminded you of Armin in a way, over analyzing things to the point where they actually figured it out. You couldn’t help but mumble things underneath your breath. 

“Can’t wait to finish them off,” you whispered in your mother tongue, a downcast on your face. You dug your fingers into your forearm, ignoring the pain that your nail was inflicting upon you. 

“This is too fucking pointless!” Bakugou screeched, wisping out a single explosion from his palm. Hanji screamed in excitement and pointed at his hand. “How did you do that?!”

“What the hell do you mean four eyes?!”

“You have a power just like Eren does! Do all of you have one?!”

“Yes we all do ribbit.”

“You have to show me! I really really wanna see!” Hanji launched forward and grabbed both of Todoroki’s hands, gripping them with no intent of letting go. “What can you do?! Oh I bet you can become a 20 meter!”

“Squad Leader!” you yelled, walking towards the group now. “Harassing them like that won’t work out! We’re near an open area! Why don’t we just go and we can take our gear!”

Hanji slowly turned her head to you, her lenses of her glasses all fogged up, shielding her eyes from you. “That...sounds wonderful! That’s exactly what we will do! Your gear is over there! Hurry up now!”

You rolled your eyes at your commanding officer, making your way to the crate where your omnimobility direction gear was resting. You grew silent, your own thoughts circling your mind.

It’s three more days till the expedition. Three more days till Annie will pop up again. Three more days till you’ll be going back home with her.

You wrapped the gas compartment around your back, tightening the grip so it didn’t fall off. Your fist came down on the boxes beside you, eyeing the grip of your blades that peeked out. “Hate putting this shit on..” you whispered and turned around, shaking your legs a bit before following Hanji, the clanking of your gear sounding behind you. 

“Is that heavy?” Midoriya asked out of nowhere. 

“Oh uh..no? But yes at the same time. It’s light enough to keep us moving but enough to ground us again. We’ve been training with these for the past three years. It’s like second nature.”

“Oh so you mastered it?”

“Well I guess you can say that!” You smiled and nudged him with your elbow, making the poor boy stumble slightly and laughed nervously. 

“I have something else I wanted to ask you.”

“Go right ahead, Midoriya.”

“How are you so happy? With those- those monsters out there, death lurking around every corner.”

You hummed and looked up at the sky, relishing the way the breeze felt against your body. “I don’t know. We’re all going to die eventually, some sooner than others. Why be sad when you can be happy? Seems like a waste of time to me. Although some of us will be affected forever.”

He stared at you, shocked by your answer. “How old are you?”

“I’m 16 years old. And you, Midoriya?”

“16 as well...” he trailed off. “Wow. It must be terrible huh?”

“Mm...yes. For me, it makes me feel alive. The adrenaline of fighting those things outside. For my own freedom. It makes surviving that much better, ya know?”

“Y/N!”

Your eyes widened as you turned on your heel, doing a little excited bounce with your feet. “I thought you couldn’t come!”

“Captain Levi gave me permission! Plus he had to come because Hanji sent Moblit to ask him if we could do more experiments!” Eren yelled over his pants for air, wiping the sweat off with his brown jacket. 

“Awesome! Maybe he’ll let me take you down as well!”

“Oh is that so?” He grinned, his eyes crinkled at the corner.

You nodded proudly, placing your hands on your. “Yup! I’m going to be the next Captain Levi!”

“Oh I don’t doubt that!”

“Stupid fucking love birds.”

Eren whipped his head towards the noise, his eyes narrowing in on Bakugou’s hunched form. “So I can tell you’re the annoying one out of everyone.”

“What did you say, brown hair loser?!”

“I said what I said!”

“You fucking–” Bakugou growled.

“Enough! Bakugou stop picking fights!” Todoroki snapped, placing a hand on the blond’s shoulder. “Ignore him. He doesn’t know when to open and close his mouth.”

“Icy-Hot, you bastard!”

You giggled and bent over, touching your toes in a stretch. “I’m ready to start whenever Hanji!”

Hanji took a step back, holding a clipboard in her arms. “Alright Eren! Whenever you’re ready to begin! And you guys can just go along with them! I can’t wait to see what you guys can do!”

“Already forcing people you don’t know into doing things, huh shitty glasses?”

“Levi! Amazing you could join us! Yes! The blond one sent an explosion off from his hands! It was something I've never seen before! Maybe they could be of use!”

Levi cleared his throat and wiped something off from his jacket. “Maybe. Of course we have to fill Erwin in on this.”

Eren moved away from everyone, making eye contact with you and nodded back when you nodded in reassurance to him. He took a deep breath and brought his hand up to his mouth.

“What is he doing?” Uraraka whispered, bringing her hand to her mouth.

Eren opened his mouth and bit down on it, his teeth digging into his flesh, blood seeping out from his mouth.

Uraraka screamed, dropping her helmet to the ground, shaking Tsuyu by her arms. “H-He bit his hand! He’s gonna bite his hand off!”

“Relax!” You waved it off, no sense of urgency displayed on your visage. “He’s fine! Give it a second!”

A strike of lightning hit his place, smoke immediately circling the area, seeming endless. Midoriya watched in awe, the yellow of the lighting reflecting off of his green irises. “Wow..” he whispered softly, fascinated. This was something bigger than anything he had seen in all his years. Something more bigger than All Might.

He felt his heart drop when he saw a shadow behind the smoke, a figure standing up until it was looming over everyone.

A loud roar filled the area, the nearby birds flying away as fast as they could. 

“..Woah” Todoroki whispered, his once narrowed eyes, open wide. 

“Wow indeed! Is it possible to control something that huge?” Iida asked Hanji, staring up at the titan with brown hair.

“Yes! For Eren, it seems that his limbs are attached to the flesh inside. Picture it as a robot, his body is inside controlling every move!”

“Fascinating!” Iida yelled, fixing his glasses. 

Midoriya glanced over at you. A scowl was present on your face. You didn’t seem happy at all. “Y/N? Are you okay?”

“Huh?!” you jolted up and nodded. “Yes I’m okay! Just thinking!” you smiled cheerfully and turned around, facing the trees. “No point in standing around right?! Come on Eren! After you!” you yelled, hands by your mouth to echo the sound to his ears.

Eren looked down at your ant like figures, his ears twitching before lifting a foot and took a step forward, beginning his run. Each step that he took was a shake to the core of the earth. 

The shaking slowed down the farther he ran out. 

“Meet you guys there!” You sent a wink towards Midoriya’s way, facing your hips toward a tree in front of you. 

He felt his face heat up, sweat forming under the tuft of hair on his forehead. “W-what are you doing?!”

Hooks shot out from the box as you pressed a button on the blades, gas shooting out from the device behind your back. Your body was propelled forward, your hair flowing behind you as the hooks kept attaching from tree to tree.

“Go! You heard her!” Hanji shooed them with her hand. 

They all looked at each other, hesitant to move.

“Well!” Bakugou snapped, opening his palms. “You heard the crazy lady!” He yelled and had a running start, moving his hands behind him, his explosions going off as he was shot forward, his feet off the ground. 

“Might as well right.” Todoroki lifted his right arm and started running, shooting ice into the ground as it carried him off, riding the ice as if it was a surfboard. 

“He’s right ribbit.” Tsuyu looked up at Uraraka, crouching down to a frog-like stance. “Just try not to throw up!”

Uraraka gasped and ran after the jumping girl. “Tsuyu! You can’t just say that!” she placed her hands onto her round cheeks and started to float off the ground, holding her breath in.

“Well Midoriya, guess this is a race then.” Iida smirked, getting in a runner position.

“Is that so?” Midoriya shot back, feeling the base of his quirk taking control. His body was now covered in sharp quick blue shocks. “Ready when you are!”

Iida laughed, taking off right there with Midoriya hot on his trail.

Hanji and Levi watched in astonishment. Well, mostly Hanji. Levi hardly showed any emotion to anyone or anything. 

“Levi did you see those kids? They could- they could help on our expedition. That Bakugou kid, he could possibly explode their nape off. Todoroki could freeze any fast abnormal that comes our way and gives us a shot at killing them. Iida could probably get to places if we ever need to relay a message. The two girls seem to be able to work together, possibly able to tie the titan down. And Midoriya, he can maybe hit their nape off, if he’s strong enough. Levi do you know what this means?! With these kids we can go further than before!” Hanji exclaimed, throwing the clipboard on the floor

“We need permission from Erwin of course. He might accept them or not. If he does then we have to make sure they are our top priority alongside Eren. With those few, plus Y/N, we could possibly come back more than before.”

“They seem like they can hold their own.”

“Yeah. But they freaked out the minute one of those naked bastards came up.”

“Squad Leader! Captain Levi! The new recruits are here!”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

The clanging of the gear didn’t stop. Levi and Hanji escorted all of you back to base. 

“I know for a fact it’ll be Mikasa and Armin,” you whispered, slowly walking to nudge yourself between  Eren and Midoriya.

“What about Sasha and Connie?”

You shook your head. “Connie decided he was gonna be in the Scouts but he looked like he met a ghost after the Trost Attack. I think he possibly changed his mind.”

Eren got quiet. “Mina and Thomas would have been here for sure.”

An uncomfortable silence swept between you two. “What happened was inevitable. As much as I don’t like to say it...” You trailed off, placing a hand on Eren’s tense shoulder and squeezed gently. “Some were bound to die whether we liked it or not.”

“Mina and Thomas?” Uraraka asked softly, afraid it was a touchy subject. You could hear the sudden hitch in Eren’s breathing.

“They were our comrades. They...unfortunately died when trying to protect the city of Trost. It’s a touchy subject for most, but it can’t be hidden forever.”

“I’m so sorry for that,” she whispered, hesitantly placing a hand on your wrist. “I-it’ll be okay!”

You glanced down at her hand, a smile crossing your features. “Thank you, Uraraka. I appreciate it.”

Shoes tapping against the floor increased in volume as voices got louder and more easier to hear.

“Captain! Can we be excused to talk to our friends?” you begged Levi, clasping your hands in front of your chest. He stared at you unemotionally, not caring what you did or didn’t do.

“Go.”

Your face broke out into a smile as your smaller hand put itself in Eren’s bigger hand. “Come on!” You tugged his body after you, both of you running towards your comrades.

Eren’s entire face heated up, the shell of his ear burning up. ‘S-she’s holding my hand!’ he thought frantically and desperately wanted to hold it forever. He gently squeezed your hand, afraid of what you might do. Much to his surprise, you squeezed back. He could pass out right there if he could.

“Sasha! Connie!” You waved, jumping up. “You guys joined after all?!”

The brunette girl turned around quickly and gasped. “You’re okay!” She launched forward at you, wrapping her arms around you tightly. You reciprocated her hugs, squeezing the life out of her. She was one of the few hearts you didn’t want to break, but you had too.

“I didn’t know h-he took you! You didn’t say goodbye!” she wailed, rubbing her cheek against yours.

“Sasha you were one of the first I told!”

“Well if it isn’t Y/N huh?”

You looked over your shoulder, your eyes widening. “What are you doing here? I thought you went to join the Military Police.”

The two toned male sighed and shook his head. “No. I didn’t after all. Marco...”

“Marco? Where is Marco?”

The taller male turned and looked at Eren. “He’s dead. He died in Trost.”

Eren’s eyes widening, his heart stopping as his blood turned cold. “You're joking. Marco’s not dead. He’s hiding somewhere, right?”

Jean stayed silent, staring him down.

“Oh my god,” you whispered and covered your mouth, looking down at the solid ground, shutting your eyes but no tears came out. Instead, under your hand, your lip curled in a grin. 

“Eren, are you hurt? Have they done anything to treat you unkind?” A ravenette girl came forward, taking Eren’s hands in her own. “Have they put you under hard punishments?”

“W-what? No, I'm fine Mikasa. If anything I have to thank Captain Levi for saving me.”

Mikasa growled, her black eyes focused on the short man not that far away from them. “He wi- Who are they?”

“Hm? Oh them. We don’t really know who they are just yet. Captain Levi found them outside the walls.”

“Outside? And they weren’t arrested?” Armin asked, staring at Midoriya. “Huh, that’s weird.”

Midoriya looked away and rubbed his arm. “I don’t know how we’ll get home. I don’t even know how we got here in the first place. Do any of you?”

“Not at all, Midoriya. My first thought was that this was a simulator of some sorts. That maybe Mr. Aizawa could come out of nowhere.”

Midoriya nodded and rubbed his chin. “Possibly...”

“What the hell are you looking at, long face?!” Bakugou yelled, walking up to Jean, who was staring him up and down.

“You of course,” Jean replied, a small smirk forming. “How could I not stare when someone’s hair looks like explosive shit?”

“You look like a stupid fucking horse!”

Connie stifled his laugh, covering his mouth with his hand. “H-he called you a horse! Oh my god that is always so priceless!”

Jean growled, obviously fed up. “Least I have some fucking hair you idiot! Where’s yours huh?! You still look like a baby with that head of yours!”

“Least my head is normal looking, Jean-Boy!”

“I thought I told you to forget about that Connie!”

“He always has to start something huh?” Todoroki sighed, his tufts of hair shaking with his head. “He better keep his mouth shut. We aren’t at school anymore. Who knows if he comes into contact with the wrong person.”

“Agreed. I overheard the woman with the glasses talking with the short one about making us join...an expedition, I think it was,” Tsuyu whispered, playing with the cuff of her hero costume. 

“An expedition? What’s that?” Iida muttered to himself. “Maybe against those things we saw outside?”

“I mean it’s a possibility, but why us? Maybe Eren is the only one with a said ‘quirk.’” Uraraka voiced in, quoting the word quirk. 

Midoriya looked over his shoulder, looking for you. Your back was faced towards them, looking up at a buff blond and a tall black haired man. He couldn’t describe their expressions. From the looks of it, it looked like you weren’t happy. You were wildly moving your hands to prove a point you were trying to make, every now and then he heard an angry noise emit from your mouth.

The other two in front of you didn’t look pleased as well. The blond and you were going at it while the black haired was a step back away from the mess, but still listening.

“Why do you always seem so unhappy Y/N,” Midoriya whispered.

“Can she at least come, Reiner?” you growled, your hands gripping the hem of your brown jacket.

“Yes of course she can. She made sure of it. Don’t worry about it,” Reiner sneered, eyes flickering around to make sure you weren’t heard. “Stop bringing it up so much.”

“I’m just making sure. I knew she was going to join the Military Police but I just need clarification.”

The boy beside him sighed nervously. “Look,” he began, “The more you worry, chances are it won’t go well. For the sake of it, don’t bring it up.”

Your eyes stared intensely into his black eyes, as if you were mentally fighting with him. Eventually you faltered and rolled your eyes before smiling. “Got it.”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Time seemed to pass faster than light. Has it really been two days already? Two days that the students of UA were stuck in a hellhole, with no teacher in sight?

The students from UA got along well with the cadets from the Survey Corps. It was safe to say some got along better with others with some, or some clashed with others more than usual.

Midoriya would say that he got closer to you. During your chores he always offered to help and of course you always said yes, Levi’s standards were a bit over the top. He noticed your subtle changes. You seemed more tired throughout the day, were you staying up too late at night? What was keeping you up for so long?

Your eyes told a thousand tales that Midoriya wanted to analyze and read every single word, getting closer and closer to the deep meaning of your life. These past two days, he knew that you’ve been concealing your inner thoughts. He begged inside that you could trust him. Was it the past memories? Was it finally getting to you?

At the moment he was watching you from a distance. You were wearing your uniform without the jacket and your boots were resting beside your body. With your eyelids closed, it looked like you were meditating.

Debating whether he should approach or not, you opened your eyes and looked over towards his standing body. “Midoriya?” you questioned, “What are you doing here?”

Embarrassed that he was caught, he stuttered with his words and looked away. “I w-was looking for you is all! I couldn’t find you earlier!”

A small “oh” left your lips as you stayed silent before a smile broke on your face. “Well come sit down then, since you made it this far.”

His body moved without thinking, swiftly sitting next to you. 

You hummed softly, gazing forward as you stared at the sky, above the top of the 50 meter wall. 

“Are you nervous?” he blurted out then covered his mouth with his hand. “I’m sorry! You don’t have to answer that!”

Ignoring his second choice of words, you sighed and slicked the small baby hairs back in place. “Course I am. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to fail.”

“This means a lot for you guys huh?”

“Especially Eren. He’s our most important asset. Without him, we will probably never make it further. We need him. He’s our top priority when protecting.”

“Is he the only one?”

You tugged at your lower lip with your teeth. “What do you mean?”

“Is he the only one that can turn into a Titan?”

“As far as I know...” you trailed off and watched a leaf petal fall from the tree you were sitting against. “He is. I don’t think anyone has that type of power.”

“Can I ask you one more thing?” he questioned, scooting closer to you, his hand brushing against yours that sent chills down your spine.

Instead of trusting your voice, you simply nodded.

“Why have you been acting differently lately?”

Crap. He noticed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Midoriya.”

“Oh come on. You look more tired lately.” His hand reached out, his pointer finger rubbing the forming bags underneath your eye. “What’s going on inside that head of yours?” he whispered. He hoped he wasn’t invading your personal privacy.

You choked up. You could feel the tears welling up inside. This was something you didn’t want to happen. You didn’t need some stranger cracking your own walls that you set so high that it was impossible for someone to reach. “I...” You trailed off and took a shaky sob. “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay. It’s okay to not know. I know we just met two days ago but you can trust me. I won’t ever judge you. I can and will support you no matter what.”

“Midoriya–”

“Izuku.”

“H-huh?” You looked up, your vision blurry by the onslaught of your tears. “Izuku?”

He nodded. “Call me Izuku. It’s my first name.”

“Izuku,” you whispered, the name rolling off of your tongue flawlessly. “Izuku.” You whimpered and wrapped your arms around him, burying your head into his chest.

He tensed up by your sudden movements but relaxed, wrapping his sturdy arms around your form, one of his hands rubbing small soothing circles on the middle of your back. “It’s okay to cry you know.” he said, as your body started shaking in his arms. “Crying is a normal human thing, and you guys have been through hell. You guys are so strong, especially you! To be keeping a strong face for everyone.”

That’s not what it was, you desperately wanted to tell him, but couldn’t. These past two days he’s been filled with information about the expedition and what to expect. Perhaps the one who killed the two test subjects, Sawny and Bean would be there as well. There was already word that there was a traitor.

You couldn’t speak up.

“I just miss my friends is all,” you meekly whispered. It wasn’t a total lie. You missed Marco, Mina, and Thomas dearly. It was just something that wasn’t clearly on your mind. 

He stayed silent and began to hum softly, his arms tightening around your body. “You won’t be alone tomorrow. You have us by your side to make sure nothing happens to you, Y/N.”

You squeezed your eyes, a slight ache forming by how tight they were. Your hands reached forward and gripped onto the material on his shirt, holding onto it tight as if you were afraid to let go.

Not one to pry, Midoriya would wait until you were comfortable to speak your feelings to him. He didn’t want to give you the impression that he was a pushy kind of guy. He would wait hours, days even months for you to speak your mind to him. He always thought you were a mysterious type of person. 

Your voice was gentle, far more softer than he had heard. If a dove had a voice, it would sound like you. “You’ll be there?”

“I will. We all will.”

“Thank you, Izuku. I appreciate it.”

You were eating yourself from the inside. Your conscience was starting to get the best of you, trying to make you feel guilty for the cause of your actions in less than 24 hours. The guilt weighing down on you, something you couldn’t handle. You couldn’t back down now. No, you had too. It was a promise you were forced to make five years ago. 

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

The Scout Regiment made their preparations. Filling up their gas with max capacity, making sure they were aware of a possible death in the nearby future. It wasn’t something they wanted to know, but it would forever be engraved in their brain. 

The 57th Expedition started less than an hour ago. So far things were running smoothly to say the least.

Each student from UA was placed within a group, separated from their friends. Bakugou, Iida, Uraraka and Tsuyu were placed individually in the different four communication squads. Todoroki and Midoriya were placed in the Levi Squad, alongside you and Eren. Levi thought they would be best fit with him. 

“The right wing spotters got wiped out sir!” Petra yelled, looking at the beam of black smoke emitting from the side of her body.

“Relay the message.”

“Wait!” you called out, biting your lip as you eyed the smoke. “I’ll go relay it! Petra can stay here sir!”

Levi stayed quiet, his hair brushing against his forehead as his horse ran at top speed. “Fine. Go.”

“Should she be going alone?” Todoroki asked from behind you, Midoriya on the other side of him. “I mean this is dangerous territory. Wouldn’t she need some sort of backup?”

“I’m fine!” you yelled over the wind. “Captain, trust me!”

Trust was a funny word in your vocabulary now. Trust was something that was nonexistent now.

“Go!” he yelled.

You nodded quickly and tugged the reins the other way, your horse letting out a strain noise.

“Be careful Y/N!” Eren said, his hand squeezing your elbow as you brushed past him. Midoriya watched the display and brushed off the feeling of envy. 

“I will,” was all you said before taking off in the direction of the black smoke, your form getting smaller and smaller the further you went.

“She’ll be okay right?” Midoriya asked no one in particular.

“Course she will. She may be a kid, but that kid has fight in her. No one stands a chance against that girl. Now keep your eyes on the mission ahead of us!” Oluo snapped, placing his hand on top of Midoriya’s head and made him face forward again. “Don’t make us mess up because of you!”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

 Armin tumbled along the dirt, the members of his squad long dead. The skinless titan, resembling a female swung the wire of his comrade, throwing them down into the ground before stepping on them as she halted to a stop. 

Armin scattered up quickly and sat on his knees, the hood of his cape covering his face. A dark shadow looked over him, his eyes widening in fear. He slowly looked up as his hood was lifted off his head. 

Sweat formed underneath the front of his bangs. A small puff of air left his lips as the Titan stared into his eyes before letting his head drop back down and stood up. She turned on her heel and took a step forward before bolting down the other direction. 

“Why did she...she didn’t kill me,” he whispered and brought a shaky hand to his face, feeling the rugged skin. “She- she stared at my face.”

“Armin!”

The blond boy gasped and looked over. “Reiner!”

Reiner came to his aid, holding the rein of Armin’s horse. “Are you okay? What are you doing in the middle of Titan territory without a horse?”

Armin hoisted himself onto his horse, grunting at the pain that shot throughout his body. “She came out of nowhere. We can’t stay here or more Titans night show up.”

Reiner nodded as they turned their horses abruptly, moving onward. 

“She has intelligence. She’s not like any other. She’s...she’s just like Eren.”

“Wait what? How are you so sure?” 

“Think about it, it makes sense. She was protecting all of her weak spots. Titan eat people but aren’t murderers. They act on instinct just like the rest of us. However, she just killed them and went about.”

“Like Eren huh? Why didn’t we get a signal? We’re the right wing spotters wiped out?”

“No matter what we still need to,” Armin reached into his pouch and pulled out the flare, twisting it on but to not avail. “Dammit!”

Horse steps from behind were approaching. A yellow flare was sent into the air. 

“Why are those things so fucking loud?!”

“Why are you so loud?!”

“Looks like Jean and Bakugou got it.” Reiner looked back forward. “Gotta admit she has a nice ass.”

“You’re really looking at that?! I thought you guys had better game than to be looking at an ass of a Titan!” Bakugou yelled, his gauntlets clanking every now and then. 

“Shouldn’t we focus on what's at stake? She could’ve lured the Titans and ambushed the right wing spotters! That’s why we couldn’t see her until she was right on top of us!”

“Jean’s right,” Armin began, his hand reaching for his hood. “She has to be after someone. My bet is Eren. He should be in the center rank, the safest out of the whole formation. But we need to attack her now before it gets worse.” He looked to his right before looking to his left. “Put your hoods on. She won’t kill you if she can’t see you.”

They all did as told, even Bakugou pulled his own up. The Survey Corps supplied the students with their own cape but they still wore their hero costumes underneath. 

“If I get close enough I can blow her fucking nape off.” Bakugou growled, sparks popping in his palms. “I’m ready to take her down!!”

With a spoken plan between the four, they moved places and went forward. 

The female titan slowed her pace down and averted her eyes downward, a body coming closer to her.

She suddenly swiped at the body, a wave of air hurling towards them that sent their hoodie off, revealing who the person was. 

Jean covered his face with his hands before pulling them down. With a turn, she bent down and swiped her hand down, knocking the horse underneath. 

Armin’s body fell against the ground, his gear breaking off with each hit it took, his head smacking face first. He let out a low groan, turning his head to face them. Blood was swarming around his eyes. 

“Oi you big ugly bitch!!” Bakugou yelled, jumping off from his horse, landing on his feet. “Look at me when I’m talking to you!!” 

“Bakugou, no!” Reiner yelled, taking his hood off. 

The female titan swung her fist around, her fist aiming right at Bakugou’s body. 

“Don’t let Eren die in vain!” Armin yelled, coughing up spit and blood. “She killed him. She’s the reason why he’s dead!! I saw my best friend die in front of my eyes!”

The titan’s arm stopped moving, her body tensing up.

“Why the hell would you bring that up now?!” the explosive blond yelled, stumbling backwards. 

“Perfect.” Reiner whispered to himself and shot a hook into the nape of the neck. 

‘Is he crazy for doing that?’ Jean thought, leaning against a tree as he watched. 

Reiner sped towards her, his blades ready to slice. The female titan turned her head slightly, a smirk growing on her face as she caught him in her fist. 

All of their eyes widened. Reiner struggled in her grip, her finger coming on top and resting on his head, pushing down. 

Blood exploded from her hand. 

“W-wait...” Armin reached out, using his other hand for support. 

They all stood in shock.

Did Reiner really just die? After all those years of hard work, did he really just get killed?

Her fingers were cut off, Reiner’s body drenched in Titan blood as smoke emitted from her hand. 

“Come on!” he yelled and ran towards Armin, holding his much smaller body on his side. “We can’t stay here long!”

The female titan kept her eyes trained on her palm, reading the engraved words through the smoke. She got up slowly and ran back the direction she came from. 

“She’s retreating!”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

You kept your blades close to your body, resting on a high tree branch, your eyes training on the area around you. 

“Come on, where are you?” you whispered to yourself, your adrenaline losing its purpose by each walking second. 

You didn’t relay the message. Instead, you went a different route, passing by the squad formations. Deep down you felt horrible. The amount of lives that would be lost by your bloodthirsty ways. 

The sounds of hooks caught your attention as feet landed beside you. You looked up at the person, looking into blue like sky eyes. 

“Annie, what took you so long?”

Annie sighed softly, rubbing the back of her neck. “Got caught up. I got stopped by Jean and Bakugou along with Armin. Reiner told me where the Levi Squad was placed. They’re in the safest spot, the center rank.”

“The center rank,” you whispered, engraving it in your brain. “Alright. What’s your plan now.”

“All I need you to do Y/N, is stay hidden. Hide in the highest of branches if you have too. Then when the time calls, do it.”

“And what if you’re able to do everything?”

“You’ll know. They’re heading deeper in here as we speak.” She motioned to the entrance with her finger. 

“And the Levi Squad?”

“Came in after Erwin ordered it.”

You stayed silent and put your blades back in place, stretching your arms over your head. “Are you able to keep your part in?”

“Can you?”

You laughed and waved your hand at her, her face holding any emotion but amusement. “What’s so funny Y/N?”

“You! Lighten up!”

“Why? This is a mission we have to fulfill.”

“I know that! But would it kill you to smile?!” You pouted and placed your hands on her pale cheeks, dipping your fingers into the corner of the lips and brought them upward. “See?! Better already!”

She placed a hand on your mouth, bringing a finger to her lips, indicating you to be silent. 

Voices from underneath the trees could be heard. 

“They’re here. Right under us. I’ll give you a sign. You’ll know what it is. Are you ready, Y/N?”

Your arms fell back by your sides as you nodded. You closed your eyes for a few seconds before opening them, the look of a killer was now staring at Annie. 

“I am. Let’s make them pay.”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Squad Levi kept their pace as they ventured into the forest, each of them confused as to why they changed course.

Midoriya looked over at Eren before looking at Todoroki. Todoroki seemed to be calm, but Eren was a different story. “Captain, why are we here? Why did we change course? Where is Y/N? She’s been gone for a long time!!”

Levi didn’t respond back, keeping his thoughts to himself. 

The squad seemed to notice your disappearance. They already accepted the fact that you could have gotten eaten. But part of themselves didn’t want to believe it

Just where in the hell were you?

“Why are we here? It doesn't make sense,” Oluo mumbled to himself, sweat pouring from his head from nerves. 

“Is everyone else clueless just as we are Midoriya?” Todoroki asked, sending a glance to the green haired boy. 

“It just doesn’t make sense to me. What are we running from? Titans that we can take down without a doubt?”

“Hey you two! Keep your head ahead of this! We can’t lose focus or you’ll slow us down!”

“But Captain!” Eren pleaded. “Why are we here?! Why are we left in the dark!”

“Just keep on moving Eren,” was Levi’s reply before going quiet, listening carefully. “Blades drawn, now.”

Each member did as told, their blades in their hands. Todoroki’s fingers on his right hand curled ever so slightly, an icy mist emitting from his fingertips. Midoriya’s body lit up, blue sparks cracking out from the effect of his quirk. 

“It can happen in the blink of an eye.” Levi told his squad, preparing for the worst. 

It all seemed still. Everyone on the tip of their toes. The heavy breathing from each soldier could be heard. Their hearts racing within their chest that it could burst. The scenery around them passed by quickly. It was like a screen on replay. Slowly, their thoughts were eating at them.

Where was it? Was it coming up from behind already? Was this their last moments? They didn’t even get to say goodbye to their families back at home. 

Midoriya could feel his heart beat rapidly in his chest.This was bigger than anything he had faced before. When he fought Stain with Iida and Todoroki, he didn’t feel anything like this. They were able to figure out Stain’s quirk. They had no knowledge on this creature. When would this nightmare end?

His green eyes widened. ‘The others!’ he thought and gripped the reins of the horse tighter. Were they all still alive? They had to, right?

He shook his head violently. No, he couldn’t be thinking that way, especially like this. 

He felt his stomach drop when a loud noise came from behind, the screams from reinforcements.

“Captain!! Your orders sir!!” Petra yelled, gripping the trigger of her blades tight that caused her fingers to slowly turn white. 

“We keep moving! Faster!”

“But Captain! If we can’t defeat that thing then who can?! They need help! We can’t just let them die!” Eren yelled, looking over at his shoulder, watching as the female titan smashed her fist against the tree, the blood exploding. “Another one! Dammit they didn’t have to die!!”

“Eren eyes forward!!”

“Are you saying I should abandon my comrades?!”

“Dammit! Yes Eren!”

Eren stared down at his hand and brought it up slowly. “I don’t need anyone! I can defeat her by myself,” he whispered and opened his mouth.

“Eren no!” Midoriya yelled, looking over his shoulder before looking back at him. “We have to trust each other! We barely know each other but we have to work as a team no matter what!”

“Midoriya is right Eren!” Petra yelled, keeping her eyes on the brunette. “Have faith in us!”

Eren stared into the meat of his hand, eyeing it as he thought about his motives. He was with the best group of titan slayers in history. There was no need to be by himself. That’s how they survived so long. They had faith within each other.

“I’m with you!” Eren cried out as he put his hand back down, a smile rising onto Petra’s face.

The squad kept their momentum forward, the female titan gaining on them from behind. 

“Fire!!”

They passed by artillery, the female titan halting her movements as hooks shot out from the device and pierced every part of her body, immobilizing her. 

“See?! We outsmarted the damn thing! Don’t you ever underestimate us again green horn! Agreed?!”

“Agreed!” 

“I’ll be back. Stay on top of the branches until it’s time to go back. Keep an eye on the horses as well,” Levi said, before shooting a hook into the tree, letting his body move with the gear.

“We did it!” Midoriya yelled, punching the air with his fist.

“You got some fight in you kid.” Eld said, bringing a hand down harshly onto his shoulder, causing the green haired boy to wince. “Glad to see both of you could keep up along with Eren of course. I don’t know what exactly they were planning but it worked out perfectly fine. And you.” He pointed a finger at the bi-colored boy. “You don’t seem to talk much like these guys. I like you.”

“Thank you,” was all Todoroki said as he nodded in approval.

What seemed like hours was actually minutes. You awaited at the top of the branches, playing with the hem of your cape. You heard the noises go off from within the forest. You were starting to get tired of the waiting. What kind of organized plan was this. If Annie wanted to do things her way, she should have simply told you she was going to do all of it instead of wasting your precious time. 

You let your head move to the side, resting your ear on top of your shoulder as you awaited for the longing signal. You sighed softly and closed your eyes.

A few seconds you snapped your eyes open again, a light blush coating your cheeks. “Midoriya?’ You whispered and slapped your cheeks a couple of times, the stinging lingering on the tender spot.

The scream of a dying animal resonated throughout the forest, the birds terrified as they flew away from the mess. You froze at the noise, making sure you heard clearly. Your eyelids lowered in a narrow stare, your hand coming up and pulled your hoodie over your face. Your hands wandered down until two blades rested in your hands. 

“My turn.”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

It wasn’t a success. The female titan managed to get away. Commander Erwin demanded the Scouts that they would retreat. The Levi Squad retreated on ODMG while Todoroki and Midoriya used their quirks to aid in the trip back.

A green flare was shot in the air.

“Huh?” Gunther looked up. “Captain Levi.” He reached into his pocket and took the gun out, shooting a green smoke signal into the air. 

You stared at the signal and let the small gun fall from your fingertips.You let your body fall off the branch as you made your way towards the smoke signal, making sure your hood didn’t fall. 

You stayed off on the sidelines, the trees passing by you quickly. You overheard the yells of Petra and Oluo along with the sounds of the hooks. 

Gunther looked over at your body, his eyes glossing over with curiosity. “Captain Levi?”

At the name your body shifted slightly. His eyes widening in realization. “Shit!”

Your body sped towards him, your blades coming into contact with his throat, the wire of his hook cutting off in the process. His body went backward, his head colliding with the bark of the tree as it cracked, breaking his neck.

“Gunther!!” Eren yelled, slowing down, a gasp leaving his lips. Gunther’s mouth was oozing blood, his eyes open but dull. 

“Keep on moving!” Midoriya nudged him with his arm as he jumped off of the trees, his quirk allowing him too as Todoroki passed by, his ice aiding him.

“Who was that?!”

“Is it the female titan?! Does she have an accomplice?!”

“I don’t know but we’re about to find out!”

A lightning bolt struck the trees, sending a vibration that reminded Midoriya of the bolts Kaminari was able to produce. The rumbling sounds of feet got louder and louder. The body of a titan emerged from the trees, its hair flowing behind.

“T-That’s not the same one!!”

“There two?!”

“Whatever! Leave it to us!! You three get out of here!”

“But I can help!”

“Eren no! Go!” Eld yelled, his body changing its course with Petra and Oluo following suit.

“Good luck!” Midoriya yelled, keeping his eyes forward. The image of Gunther’s dead body lingered in his mind. Something as brutal as that was something he didn’t want to see. He wanted to be in his dorm, looking at all his All Might figurines. 

The female titan kept her eyes trained on the three. Her eyes narrowed into slits, a look of a feral animal. Just like Annie’s titan, this resembled a female, the only difference was the longer hair, the color the same as the person controlling it. 

“Whatever we do, we bring the bitch to her knees and make her pay for what she has done!” Oluo yelled, pointing to his underarms, an indicator on where to strike. 

The trio worked in unison, the same goal in mind.

The female titan avoided the hook that tried coming into contact with her face, swiping her arm upward. Petra took this as a chance, slashing her blades into her underarms. Eld spun and threw his blade, hitting the titan in her eyes as she let out a pained scream. 

“Those aren’t even close to those you killed!” Oluo yelled, slicing her achilles heel that sent the titan to fall. 

The titan’s arms were cut up, limp by her sides as her nape was wide open to be cut, her eyes shut and bleeding out. 

“There it is! Go for the  nape and pull her out!” Eld’s hook drove into the muscle of her nape, the gas of his device sending him forward. The second he got closer the female titan moved her head towards him and opened her mouth, shutting her teeth around his midsection then spit him out, his body falling into two pieces. The titan looked at Petra, both of her eyes opening.

Petra screamed in terror, unable to control herself as her body was lowering and lowering towards the ground. “How was she able to regenerate so fast?! That’s impossible!”

The titan staggered to get up, leaning against the tree before running forward, her arms flailing behind her, still limp.

“She couldn’t have done that! And for it to be both eyes?!”

“Petra, pull yourself together!!”

A final scream left the strawberry blond’s lips as a foot collided with her body, sending her straight into the ground. 

“Petra!!” Midoriya yelled, his feet digging into the bark of the tree as he jumped back, running back to help. 

“Midoriya wait!” Todoroki called for his friend. 

“How can I be a hero if I can’t help those in need?! I can’t call myself one if there are people who need me!” Midoriya replied back, Eren right by his side. Todoroki followed them quickly. 

“W-Where’s Oluo?!”

The female titan slowly lifted her head, a wicked grin tugging at the corner of her lips. Oluo’s body was sticking out of her mouth, his head inside. She spit his headless body onto the ground, spitting his head somewhere, the blood evident on her lips.

“I’ll kill you!!” Eren yelled, his teeth clamping down onto his thumb. His roar was heard throughout the forest, his feet hiding the ground that made Midoriya and Todoroki jump. 

Midoriya looked up at the 15 meter female titan, noticing a small resemblance but couldn’t pinpoint it. 

With Todoroki and Midoriya both by his side, they could take down the titan, with or without Captain Levi. 

Eren roared and ran towards her, sending a punch forward that she avoided with ease. Todoroki ran towards her quickly, shooting ice out of his hand near her feet. As if she expected it, she jumped back quickly, steam emitting from her arms as they healed back up. 

“She knows!” Midoriya yelled, the movement of his shoot style colliding with her ankle that made her stumble. “She knows what we can do!!”

“So what did you suggest we do Midoriya?!”

“We have to predict her movements!” he yelled, avoiding the foot that almost sent him flying. 

Eren sent another punch, her hand grabbing his hand with ease. She dug her nails into his arm, a scream leaving Eren’s lips as she threw him to the ground. Eren’s body tumbled as he got up quickly, a three finger hole pierced in his arm.

With the help of Midoriya, he carried Todoroki on his back as he jumped off a tree, Todoroki shot a beam of ice from her waist down, immobilizing her.

The titan’s eyes widened as she struggled, Eren’s fist colliding with the center of her face that caused her head to slam back into the tree. 

“Eren!”

Midoriya looked at the voice and felt a sense of relief. Two of the strongest soldiers in the Survey Corps, Levi and Mikasa Ackerman were now at their aid.

Seeing they were distracted, the female titan kicked her leg forward, shattered pieces of ice falling around them, their sharp edges piercing the ground.

Levi watched the titan’s movement, his squinted eyes zoning on her face. 

Eren took a fighter's position, bringing his hands to protect himself. She followed suit, her back leg further than the one in front, awaiting Eren’s move. 

‘He’s going to attack full on. His right arm will be the first move,’ she thought. Sure enough Eren did just that, being able to avoid his attack. She lifted her leg and kicked him in his stomach, sending him back with utter force.

Mikasa quickly passed by from behind, slicing the back of her knees, a weak spot on a Titan. The female titan fell to one knee, a hand on the ground to stable herself. Midoriya jumped from a tree, using the strength from his quirk and kicked the back of her head, her head falling forward as her nape was wide open. 

In a blink of an eye, Levi cut the nape open with his blades, a blast of smoke searing out. He jumped back, his hook dangling himself from a tree as he protected his face with his arms from the powerful force. 

The muscle on the nape of the Titan was open, a body stuck to it like glue. The insides clung to the person’s face, making visible Titan shifter marks, tears streaming down their face. 

Eren stopped breathing. His eyes could only focus on the person who was controlling the titan. Already out of his Titan form, his turquoise eyes filled up with glossy tears. There they were, the person who killed his comrades, who killed most of the survey corps with no problem at all. 

“Y/N..?” he whispered softly, his shoulders shaking violently as he sniffed, wiping his nose with the back of his head. “I-It’s fake! It has to be!”

Midoriya watched quietly, silent tears of agony flowing without a care in the world. These past three days that he was stuck in this world with his friends, made him think twice about the kind of life he had. Here, everyone was taught you either had to fight to survive, or let yourself get killed. 

This was the person that he felt he could connect with, someone that showed joy no matter what the cause was. Midoriya didn’t know what to feel. Should he feel pain? Should he be upset? Confused? So many emotions filled his whole being. 

“Knock her out, she’s waking up!”

Mikasa growled and raised her blade up, hitting you in the back of the head with her grip, your head falling forward.

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Your eyes fluttered up, the bright light of the room hitting your tired eyes. You blinked a couple of times, adjusting to your surroundings. You tried to lift a hand up but to no avail it wouldn’t budge. You looked down, noticing both of your hands were chained up with no possible way for you to unlock them. 

“How could you.”

“Huh?” You looked up tiredly, a male with brown hair standing in front of you, his hand gripping the bars that separated the both of you. 

“I said how could you?!” Eren yelled, banging a hand on the bar. “You killed innocent people Y/N! Or is that even your name?! Was this a whole game to you?!”

As you opened your mouth, he violently shook his head. “I can’t believe you! After all these years, all the blood sweat and tears are down the drain?! After all those times of me being called a monster, it wasn’t me! The only fucking monster I know is you!!”

You listened to his every word, each word spoke with venom that poisoned your heart more and more. He had every right to say how he felt, and how he felt is the way you knew how we would react. 

“What do you want me to say? I'm sorry?”

“Do you even remember their faces..”

“I remember all of them. Their screams as I got closer. The constant begging for me to let them go. Wanna know something?” you whispered, leaning forward to the best of your ability. “I loved it. I loved seeing their faces at my mercy.”

Eren stared you, horrified by the sudden laughing coming from your mouth. “I thought I knew you..”

“Well now you do!”

“Eren, Captain Levi said it’s time to go.” Midoriya walked in, placing a hand on the brunette’s shoulder. “Let me have a minute.”

“But-“

“Please Eren.” Midoriya placed a hand on his back, pushing him out much to his disliking.

“Hi, Izuku.”

“Midoriya.” 

“Aww,” you pouted before grinning. “Lost those privileges huh?”

“You lost them a long time ago. I just need to know something.”

“Well,” you dragged the last syllable, batting your eyelashes at him. “What is it?”

“Why would you do it? They were your comrades, weren’t they?”

“Comrades huh? Is that what you think?”

He nodded.

You eyed his movement before smiling. As you opened your mouth to start talking, no words came out. 

Midoriya blinked a couple times and rubbed his ear gently. “What?”

A small ringing noise left your mouth as you continued to talk. The ringing got louder and louder until it was screeching, causing him to cover his ears. 

“Wake up!!”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Midoriya gasped for air, clutching the front of his soaked sleep shirt. He looked around frantically as his eyes stopped on his phone. He launched forward and grabbed it, yanking it from the wire of the charger, turning the phone on.

October 3, 7:40 AM.

A groan of relief let his lips, placing the phone on his chest. Not a second past as he opened his phone again, eyeing the time. 

“I’m going to be late!!”

Saved by the bell, Midoriya sat in his respected spot, panting hard as a light sweat forming under his hair. 

“Woah dude you look bad, what happened to you?” Kaminari asked, looking him up and down. There were eyebags forming, his hair a mess as his uniform was not put on right.

“I had...the weirdest dream! And I woke up late as well and I had to rush it here!” Midoriya said through his pants, shaking the school jacket off of him as he rolled his sleeves to his elbows. 

“Least you’re here man! Apparently we-“

“Kaminari stop talking!” Aizawa sighed and ran a hand through his black hair. “Today we have a new transfer student. Don’t make it weird.” He eyed Mineta for a good five seconds. “Make her feel welcomed. Come in.” He waved towards the door, walking over to his sleeping bag. “Introduce yourself or whatever. Your name, quirk or anything you want. Just don’t be loud.” He got into his sleeping bag and zipped it up, curling into the corner of the room. 

There was an awkward silence as they watched their teacher. 

A girl walked into the room, a hum leaving her lips. She had a small skip to her step. Midoriya looked up, a choked gasp leaving his mouth, his scarred hands covering his mouth once the noise left. There she was, not covered in blood or shackles. No white pants and a short brown jacket. But their school uniform instead. 

Her hands behind her back and a big smile on her face, she said, “Hi! My name is Y/LN Y/N! I recently moved here from Tokyo! My quirk allows me to transform into a 15 meter tall person! Except I don’t resemble myself but just the body of a female! They call my quirk, Titan!”

“Show us!!” Kaminari yelled, a blush coating his cheeks as he stood up from his seat. He obviously already had a liking towards you. 

You stifled a giggle, placing a hand on your mouth. “I can’t do that! I’ll break the entire school if I do it now!”

Bakugou leaned forward, intrigued by your quirk. “I can still take you down easily!”

“Oh, you’re Bakugou right?” You smiled, hands now by your side. “I can’t wait to beat you!”

“What did you say tall bitch?!”

You rolled your eyes as you looked over the class, their mouths opening with questions they wanted to ask you. Your eyes stopped on a green haired boy who looked like he was facing death himself. Turns out there was an empty seat next to him. 

You walked over and slid into the chair, sticking a hand out for him. “As you know I’m Y/N Y/LN. What’s your name?”

“I-Izuku Midoriya!” he squeaked, sticking a hand out for you as he shook your hand, looking you up and down. “H-How?!”

“How what?”

“How are you here?! Captain Levi caught you and you were stuck underground doing experiments!”

“Captain Levi?” you questioned, rubbing your temple in circles. “Who is that?”

Before he could ramble on he stopped. This wasn’t you. This was someone new. Not the murderous killer, but the face of a sweet girl. 

“I’m sorry you just remind me of someone who was in my dream last night.” He sighed in relief and cracked his knuckles. “Kind of gave me a spook there.”

“Oh did I? Well I apologize for that!” You laughed, playing with the tip of your pencil. “Say, what’s your quirk? I would love to get to know you too! Since ya know, we are row buddies after all!”

“My quirk? Just a strength one.” He shrugged, more interested in hearing about you. “But yours fascinates me! Able to turn into a 15 meter Titan? That’s amazing! I would love to see it in person!”

“Really? You mean that?”

He nodded excitedly. “Yes! Later today we have hero training! You can show us all then!”

Your eyes lit up. “I c-can’t wait then! I always wanted to see how small people would look when I gained control of it!”

He grinned, sending you a thumbs up. “Well I bet it’s amazing.”

“Eren thought it was amazing as well!”

His heart stopped. Eren? As in Eren Jaeger?

“E-Eren?”

“Yeah!” You pouted, letting your head rest in the palm of your hand. “He was my friend in my old school! He kinda had the same quirk as I did! I miss being able to make fun of the way his looks.” 

Midoriya felt his heart beating again. Still shaken up from his dream, he knew the Y/N Y/LN stuck underground, was not the same Y/N Y/LN that was currently sitting next to him. Even after a collision of worlds, he knew he could trust you. 

[bonemarroww]

Something Else - Trans!(O) Amajiki Tamaki x (A) F!Reader

Summary : “You’ll get there someday!” Mirio always says. “You’ll do better next time.” Tamaki doesn’t want to get there someday. And if every Alpha always does, well, maybe he’s something else then.

Warnings : Homophobia, Transphobia (not from s/o or anyone that matters to Tamaki)

Feedback is welcome !

(I do not own the picture)

AO3

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

———————— Chapter 4

“So, how are things going with your mate, Chicken Heart?” The bubbly omega asked, sitting with the shy boy at the counter as Mirio was cooking for them in the dorms’ kitchen.  

It had been a few weeks since his accidental confession, and Tamaki still blushed with mixed embarrassment and pleasure every time he heard his friends refer to his mate as, well, his mate . They had agreed to keep things low key for the moment, more for his benefit than hers, before they started any display of public affection.  

When with Mirio and Nejire , though, he did not mind her holding his hand and sitting closer to him than she used to. She did not mind keeping things private for their friends only to know, and had herself only told her best friend, a Beta from her class whom had immediately approved of Tamaki.  

They had not had a lot of opportunities to spend some time in private, not wanting to make his presence in her dorms too regular, and Tamaki not being able to bring her in his room for obvious reasons. They had taken some trips to the city, and found themselves alone one time in the park she liked to frequent –her Alpha was very keen on open spaces where it could feel free from the crowd.  

Even there, she had not overstepped his boundaries, asking him what he was comfortable with, without bristling when he had admitted to it feeling a bit early for more than a quick peck.  

“G-great... She’s p-perfect for me. She s-says I’m the b-best thing that’s happened to her.” He smiled timidly at the memory.  

Nejire cooed, refraining from hugging him –as she knew he didn’t like being suffocated with love so early in the day.  

“Did you two address the, uh... elephant in the room?” Mirio carefully worded.

Tamaki looked down, his smile falling.  

It had been his plan, at first, to confess his love for her and the real nature of his second gender at the same occasion. That way, she would know what she was signing up for, so to speak. He had not either expected her to jump so willingly into their relationship, considering she still knew him as an Alpha and knowing how traditional her family was.  

She had batted away his concerns, stating she would hardly be the first to have an Alpha as a mate (how did he think they had so many Alphas in her family?) and that he was worth any trouble anyone may send their way.  

Still, asking her to scent something for him right after accepting her gift had felt rushed, and he had panicked. Now that things had been settled for a while, he didn’t dare to, afraid she would react badly and think he had manipulated her.  

What if she was only attracted to Alphas? It was unlikely, but it would be just his luck that his assigned gender, that he no longer identified as, drew her to him...  

“N-no... I-it's... Things are g-going so well r-right now... M-maybe I c-can just g-get used to it...” He knew it was a bad idea.  

It would not last; but it seemed so much easier to just keep on like they had been recently. For the first time in his life, he had a mate. Someone who loved him , despite his shy disposition, despite his not being the most articulate or talented with crafts. It just felt like he had a lot to lose now.  

“Tamaki...” The shy boy knew Nejire was serious, for she almost never used his given name anymore. “She won’t love you any less for what you are. Chances are she’ll even care for you more. The last time we’ve seen each other, she was over the moon to be with you. She won’t change her mind because of how you feel.”  

Tamaki hid his face in his arms, his forehead touching the cold surface of the counter. They were right... probably. And he couldn’t keep pretending forever. With his friends he had tasted what it felt like to shed the disguise and be his true self. He didn’t know for how long he’d be able to keep this freedom locked in a closet.  

He startled when Mirio put a steaming plate of rice and fish in front of him.  

“Come on, you’ll need all the strength you can gather if you want to do this.”  

The elf boy let out an incomprehensible mumble, but in the way he lifted his head with resignation to look at the food, Mirio could tell their point had come across.  

.

.

Tamaki took a deep breath. This was as good time as any. Though his mate had been everything nice and patient with him on their date, the knowledge of having carried the plaid she made him for a few hours now was slowly eating at him. He could feel his Alpha growing upset at his lack of answers to her queries, and his general anxiety-induced lack of affection.  

He had managed to lead them to this park they had been to a couple of times, which would be a right place to do this. Though there were still some families out enjoying their afternoon, the place was big enough for them to find a secluded place to sit down, where no one would bother them.  

“I-I had something t-to t-tell you...” He fiddled with his fingers nervously.  

His bag, containing the soft object he had pried from his nest this very morning, was just beside him. He could feel his Alpha increasingly worried at his behavior; but when he tried to look up, the sight of the ridiculous scarf at her neck sent him back to a blushing mess.  

As ugly and embarrassing as he thought it was, it had quickly become her favorite piece of clothing. She kept wearing it even though it was now spring and the air had become warmer and less humid. Every time Tamaki tried to explain how awkward it felt to have her wearing such an ugly, half-finished thing; or when someone commented on the distinct difference between the shapeless mess he had made and the obvious part she had finished; she would insist that it made her happy and proud to wear something they had crafted together. It was romantic , in her eyes.  

“I’m listening.” Her voice was low, slightly tensed, but he knew she would not interrupt him.  

Tamaki took one last deep breath, remembering all of his friends’ reassurance, before closing his eyes and letting go of it all.  

“You’ve t-told me m-many times you’re n-not ashamed of having an A... an Alpha as a mate, but I-I’m actually an Omega and- I understand if- if I’m not... what you’re looking for, but... I thought you should know?”  

It sounded more like a question than an affirmation, but the words were out. For the next few moments, it felt like Tamaki had traded a weight on his shoulders against another; the pression of not having told her replaced by that of not knowing how she would answer.  

A thousand bad case scenarios went through his head in the split seconds before the Alpha’s shoulders relaxed, and she let out a sigh of relief. Before he could understand, strong arms pulled him closer to her, and she nuzzled his neck as if seeking the comfort of his scent.  

“You stupid, stupid Omega...” Her shoulders shook in a bewildered chuckle. “I thought you were breaking up with me.”  

His heart skipped a beat at hearing her refer to him as an Omega for the first time. He almost didn’t register the ‘stupid’ part, high on a second-long relief, before the rest of her words sank in and he panicked.  

“W-what? No! I d-don’t want that...”  

His arms closed around her form, hugging her back with tears of his own, and at his words, he felt her purr slightly. The pleasant sensation, along with her scent so close to him, easily calmed his raging emotions.  

“Me neither.” She affirmed in an unwavering, loud voice proper to Alphas.  

When they separated sometime later, her eyes were dry; and so were his. Tamaki felt odd, in that he knew that now would be the moment to ask her to scent the plaid she made him, while all the while feeling like she had something to say.  

He did not anticipate her words as much as he had her reaction, now that she had made her attachment to him –and her desire to remain his mate– clear.  

“I thought I loved all of you.” She started, smiling slightly, her gaze lost looking at some children running, a bit further down the road. “But now I realize I just don’t know everything about you yet. I can’t wait to discover more and love you whole.” Her eyes found his, her smile growing into a grin.  

This made a blushing mess of Tamaki, as he mumbled that he wasn’t that loveable, and that surely, she would find a ton of things she wouldn’t like about him, because he wasn’t perfect like her. Only when he looked up and saw her gaze grow fond did he realize he was rambling and abruptly stopped halfway through –ironically enough– reminding her how much of a pessimist he could be.  

If there had been any wall nearby, he would have gladly walked up to it and banged his head against it.  

“Tamaki...” His Alpha laughed and nuzzled his cheek. “That’s just one of the many things I love about you. Now, do you have anything you’d like for me to scent?”  

She anticipated his ask, and a blushing Tamaki timidly opened his backpack to give her the plaid. She purred at its sight, carrying it to her nose as she obviously smelled how much he had cuddled and worn it in the past few weeks.  

Tamaki blushed happily.  

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Having his mate knowing him as an Omega really changed the deal. For starters, Tamaki was able to bring her into his dorm room, where they would hang out sometimes –not too often, for Tamaki feared the comments of his classmates. There, they would watch movies together, him comfortably in his nest timidly cuddling the scented plaid and plush; her sat on his bed. Afterwards, when he would sleep in his sheets that smelled like her, Tamaki would dream of being in her arms.

When they weren’t in her dorm room or his, and the weather wasn’t favorable to a walk, they often found themselves in Tamaki’s home. He had shyly introduced her to his mother after a few months of their relationship, when they had tried to sneak into his house while his parents were supposed to be absent. To this day, the embarrassment was still acute, though his mother had invited the Alpha to dine with them so that she could meet Tamaki’s father.  

Despite starting out so awkwardly, the encounter had gone better than the shy boy would have thought. His parents had seen how much the girl cared for him, and seeing their boy so happy with himself and his mate had brought a few tears to their eyes. By the time the Alpha had officially promised she would take a good care of their son, the adults had approved without any second thoughts.  

Tamaki had been understandably very anxious to meet his mate’s family. First, because of how traditional her family was, and second, for the sheer number of people he would have to meet. The Alpha’s family lived in a big estate in the countryside with her parents and grandparents, and she had several siblings. It was very far from his situation as a suburban only child.  

Still, his mate had handled the problem elegantly enough, explaining to her family that her companion currently couldn’t travel out of the city because of his Pro Hero internship. She had then casually invited her parents only to join them so that they could meet him.  

Tamaki had been introduced as her Omega , and though he had seen their looks of surprise as they had discreetly sniffed the air around him, they had smiled at him with genuine warmth. Never had they asked any inappropriate question or made comments that were uncalled for, instead asking him about his studies, his internship, how they had met. Discussion, though stilted by his shyness and anxiety, had been rather pleasant.  

They would have time on other occasions to meet the rest of her family. When they had gotten back to the dorms after leaving her parents, she had rewarded him with a long evening of praise and cuddles –though nothing inappropriate, Tamaki still blushed shyly when he thought about it.  

Every day, when they managed to make time for one another, Tamaki was a bit more grateful for that one time she had come to comfort him, somehow seeing past his scent and into who he really was.  

She had given him the support and courage to out himself to his friends, and after a few months, to the rest of the school. Not that he went out of his way to tell people; but when a curious eye asked about his relationship, or when a first year asked about his alignment on the spectrum out of confusion or curiosity... He allowed his Alpha or Mirio to answer the truth while he faced the nearest wall.  

Only a couple of times had this brought him trouble; usually from disbelieving people who stopped at his scent.  

“Alphas shouldn’t date other Alphas.” A snotty second year Alpha from general studies looked down on them one time, his friend snickering in the background. “It’s against nature.”  

Tamaki felt like shrinking on himself as he meekly protested, though not daring to correct them on his identity. People who invoked nature as their argument rarely looked on people like him with a favorable eye.  

His mate, on the other hand, bristled at the insult.  

“Leave my Omega alone.” She growled, her Alpha’s protectiveness going through the roof. “Or say that again to my face and see how pretty yours will be.”  

To the younger students’ credit, the obvious threat didn’t seem to faze them. Tamaki tightened his hold on her hand, anchoring himself to her. By now, it wasn’t from fear or to prevent himself from going to find the nearest wall; but he wasn’t sure his mate wouldn’t jump on the students to rip their heads off if they didn’t stop soon.  

“Omega?” The second one puffed. “He’s an Alpha, darling. It’s all over his scent.”  

“He’s manipulating you. You deserve better.” The first spat.  

Holding hands or not; it was too late for them. Tamaki winced when he felt her hand rip out of his and fly to the guy’s throat. The other moved back in fear as he saw the girl hit his friend’s face once with her fist closed –which would leave a dark bruise– and then raking her sharp nails on the tender skin –leaving angry red marks that wouldn’t fade before days.  

“He smells like an Alpha because he eats jerks like you for breakfast.” She growled, and Tamaki might have thought her scary if his Omega wasn’t swooning at the sight before him.  

With one last flashing of her canines, she moved back to take Tamaki’s shaking hand in hers. She had never seemed more attractive as she did then, angrily staring down the two younger students, her menacing air undermined by the ridiculous scarf around her neck.  

“Now move out of the way.”  

The two general studies boys quickly got back to their feet and ran away from them. Only when their scent disappeared from the corridor, and Tamaki timidly went to scent his mate in a quick embrace, did she completely relax.  

“I’m sorry for the scene.” She sighed, scenting him back as much for his comfort as for her own. “I shouldn’t pick fights with idiots.”  

Tamaki mumbled the words before he could properly think.  

“I-it’s okay... you were...”  

The Alpha cocked her head in confusion.  

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear you. Did you say something?”  

The boy bit his tongue, blaming her on how little control he had over the words that came out of his mouth when he was in her presence.  

“I-I said... you were pretty h-… h-… Y-you...” Tamaki closed his eyes in embarrassment at how his nervousness made him stutter.  

A warm hand on his arm and a light kiss on his cheek made his mind go blank.  

“It’s okay, take your time.” His mate lightly purred, hoping to help him relax.  

“Y-you were pretty hot!” He blurted out, too loud in his own opinion.  

The shy boy quickly hid his face in her neck, taking comfort in her scent and the purr that doubled against his chest after his admission. When he dared look up again, his Alpha’s cheeks were ever so slightly darkened, her eyes wide and a surprised smile on her lips.  

“Good.” She smirked, rewarding his candor by a firm kiss on his lips.

[suwya]

Till the Stars Had Run Away - Chapter 2

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Summary:  Killian Jones was a voyager. Actually, he was many things, or at least he had been - a lieutenant, a brother, a loving boyfriend - until everything had turned upside down and his life had hit an all time low. So, he gave up. Aboard his spaceship he abandoned Arcadia, his planet, navigating the stars and other solar systems in search of... well, he still didn't know what he was searching for, but his rule was "never remain in the same place longer than necessary."

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Rating: M

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Prologue; Chapter 1,

AO3

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A/N: Thank you @thisonesatellite​ for being the best beta I could ever ask for. And thank to all of you who are reading this.

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Chapter 2.

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There are no strangers here;

Only friends you haven’t yet met.

(W. B. Yeats)

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In the past three weeks, Killian had had no news of Henry or his mother. He knew he should concentrate on something else: whatever was happening in their lives was none of his business. But he hadn't been able to let go of the memory of their last encounter. What if the lad was right and Emma was in danger? She didn't look like the successful Princess of a remote planet anymore, and maybe her life wasn't any fairytale. But what could he do? And above all, was it really his problem?

Tonight was a fillglow night. Killian was waiting for Robin and Roland to join him and watch the match together on his big projecting screen. He and Robin had been long fans of this sport, and Roland took the same passion from them. 

Killian had already prepared some bowls of multicolored pop grains. The only kind of grains that could grow on this desert planet, and they didn’t need to be rehydrated to be eaten. Luckily Roland loved them, especially the cones and star-shaped ones. The boy and his father were supposed to bring the drinks, which consisted mainly of berry juices. It was the most similar to a family routine they had, every fortnight a match was broadcast and Killian enjoyed the time together with his buddies.

Fillglow was a very popular sport in many galaxies, there was even a Multiverse Championship. Roland would have given anything to get tickets for the FMC finale, he had never watched a match live, none of them had. Tonight’s match was a local one, not pivotal, but it didn't matter, it was a good excuse for Killian to spend some time with his adopted family. 

But the thoughts of the late events had distracted him, and he didn’t realize what time was. The projector was already on and the match was about to start. A knock on the door startled him. He hurried up to open with a big grin, “you're late, mates!” Two puzzled pairs of eyes were staring at him, but they weren't Roland’s nor Robin’s.

“This is a terrible idea.” Emma sighed while Henry enthusiastically exclaimed, “Killian, you're home, great!”

Killian was a bit taken aback by the unexpected visit and he didn't know how to react. Before he could say anything Emma went on, “I'm so sorry, we shouldn't have come.” 

She was already turning away when Killian stopped her with a gentle touch on her arm. “Well, now that you're here, why don't you come in?” 

Emma reluctantly entered the house followed by her delighted son, but when Killian was about to close the door, a shoe between it and the frame stopped him. “It’s bad form to close the door on someone’s face, mate!” Robin appeared in Killian’s sight, mocking his friend imitating his way of speech. “I didn't know you were having guests.” The surprise on Robin’s face was apparent as soon as he spied the other people inside Killian’s living room.

“Uh…” Killian was a bit lost for words and he lifted a hand to scratch a spot behind his right ear, a habit he had when feeling uncomfortable. “Robin, this is Emma Swan; Emma, meet my best friend Robin of Locksley.” 

Roland ran inside the house. “Hi!” he exclaimed with a big dimpled grin.

“...and this is Robin’s lad, Roland,” Killian added.

“Nice to meet you. I'm Henry, Killian’s son.” Henry extended a hand to shake with the other boy.

Killian sighed and shook slightly his head towards a baffled Robin, who was staring at him with wide-open eyes. He hoped that his friend wouldn’t ask. “Why don't we all get comfortable?” He suggested and then turned to his guests, “we were about to watch the fillglow match. We would be happy if you join us.”

Robin took a seat at one end of the couch, Killian was in the middle and Emma took the other end, leaving as much distance between them as possible. She was wearing a beige blouse with metallic colored sleeves, and a loose keen-short matching skirt, with long light brown leather boots. At first glance, it might seem like a casual choice of clothing, but the ensemble was in harmony. Killian would take a peek at her from time to time while she wasn't looking, and it struck him how beautiful she was.

Roland and Henry sat together on the double footstool in the middle of the room, with a big pop grains bowl in the middle. “What's your favorite fillglow team?” Roland asked.

“I'm not really into it,” was Henry’s answer.

Roland was surprised. “You do know the rules, don’t you?”

“I’ve never been a big fan of sports in general.”

Killian decided to help the boy and started explaining, “Well, it’s quite simple. Two teams, six players each. The goal is to score into the other team’s round target until it lights up.”

“What’s difficult is that they play in no gravitational environment. So they are a bit limited in their movements. Plus their suits are heavier than they seem.” Robin added.

“You have to block opponents using a laser stick, but you can’t hit the adversary wherever you like - you’re allowed to hit only certain spots of the other’s suit.” Killian went on, “when you touch someone with your stick on one of those spots, this person gets paralyzed for a few seconds. The more difficult the place you hit, the more time your opponent stays immobile. The belly usually gives you the most time stuck.”

“But if you touch someone where you’re not allowed to, you get stuck for six seconds,” Robin added. 

“If you get to touch the other team’s target with your stick, it will start glowing, but you are not allowed to score again before other players touch it,” said Killian. “You need 27 scores to make the target glow completely, or better said, to fillglow it. And that’s when the match ends.”  

“You may think it’s easy, but it’s not,” Roland said excitedly. “You know, I went to a fillglow stadium once with daddy and uncle Kil. I could enter the field, but with the heavy suit it took me almost 20 minutes to reach the other team’s target, and I was alone, with no opponents to block me. It’s strange because you’re floating in the air, so you can’t walk. It’s almost like swimming, but more difficult.”

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~·~·~·~

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After the fourteenth point of the opposite team, the commercials started and Killian took a handful of pop grains from the main bowl near the kids.

“Why are you always wearing a glove on your left hand?” Henry asked.

“Uncle Kil has got a bionic hand,” Roland explained.

“Can I see it?” Asked Henry with curiosity.

“Henry!” Emma scolded, but Killian dismissed it with a wave of his right hand. “It's alright,” he said and removed the glove to reveal a transparent synthetic hand full of cables inside.

“Cool!” Henry exclaimed. “Did you make it?”

“No, lad. I bought it.”

“But he changed it way better,” Roland added.

Killian chuckled, “I just improved it to achieve some more movement.”

  “Now it's almost the same as a real hand.” Roland was clearly proud of his uncle’s job with the prosthesis.

  Henry put his hand on it. “Do you feel it?”

“I'm sorry, I can't,” was Killian’s gentle answer, and when Henry retracted his hand a bit disappointed, he went on, “but I can do this.” He took a big star-shaped pop grain and showed it to Henry with his bionic hand, then he closed it into a fist and turned it upside down; when he opened it again the grain had disappeared. 

“Wow!” The kid was impressed. “Would you teach me to do it?”

Killian put the glove on the hand again. “Maybe, someday.”

When the boy asked, “why do you keep it covered?” his mother coughed to draw his attention and stared at him with a reproaching look. But Henry didn’t relent. “Mom, don't you think it's impressive?” He asked enthusiastically.

Killian smiled at Emma, trying to relieve her clear embarrassment. “Indeed it is, yes,” she sheepishly smiled back at him.

Henry asked, “How did you lose your hand?” Emma sighed but before she could scold her son again for making so many private questions, Killian said, "Well that, lad, is a story for another night." 

“Killian is right.” Robin stepped in. “It's time to go to bed, Roland.”

“Oh no!” The little kid complained. “The match is not over yet.”

“And you know perfectly well that it can go on for ages because it doesn’t have a time limit,” his father reasoned.

Roland looked up at him with big pleading eyes. “Can I at least show Henry my room before going to sleep?”

Robin sighed but gave in. “Ok. But don't be long.”

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~·~·~·~

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Emma looked concerned when the boys disappeared out the front door. “No need to worry,” Killian said. “Robin lives just next door.”

“How did you two come to know each other?” Robin asked while the three of them were moving to sit at the table, and Killian was handing them some cups filled with a liquid a bit stronger than berry juice.

“Uh… we met many years ago.” 

Killian exchanged a questioning glance with Emma. He didn’t know how much of their story she was willing to share. But apparently, the silent communication didn’t go unnoticed to Robin, who, clearly remembering where he had already heard her name, asked Killian, “Is she the Emma?” But then he immediately turned towards the woman, “I beg your pardon.” He said apologetically. “I’m not used to being in front of a Princess.”

“Please, don’t call me that, especially not in front of my son. He doesn’t know the whole story.”

Robin nodded. “I had that impression. And I’m confident he is not actually Killian’s son, right?”

Killian half-smiled at his friend in assent, then he turned to Emma, “Henry seems to be a clever lad. How long do you think you can hide his past?”

Emma sighed. “I hate keeping things from him, but it’s safer this way.”

“Is he right?” Killian insisted. “Is there truly someone that could represent a danger for both of you?”

She didn’t reply, she lowered her stare and fixed it into a specific spot on the table. “Not an immediate danger, no. But maybe in the future... yes. That man that Henry thinks I’m afraid of, he’s my contact; maybe not the sweetest person in the galaxy, but he’s reliable. He told me there will be raids soon in my neighborhood. That’s why we came here tonight. I hoped you could give us some advice. You’re a trader, aren't you? You should know a lot of people, maybe, influential people.”

“Does anybody know you are here?” Killian inquired.

“I didn’t choose my job by coincidence. If I'm good at finding hidden people, it means I know exactly what to do when I don’t want to be found.”

“Who’s after you?” Killian went straight to the point.

Emma seemed to ponder the question for a few seconds, then said, “not me, Henry.” After a small pause, she went on, “the King and Queen of New-Tolemac are still in need of an heir.” 

“Do you think your parents will harm the boy?” He asked inquisitively. 

“They are not my parents.” Killian and Robin shared a surprised look, but Emma kept her gaze fixed in her cup; she didn't seem inclined in giving more details, and Killian knew it was neither the time nor the place to pry. But then she added in a whisper “...I can’t lose Henry. He’s all I have.”

Killian studied the woman in front of him, there was no trace of the pompous arrogance he saw in her when they first met. She was now a mother, a tough one, fighting her demons for his son’s sake. 

“I have to go away for a few weeks, I have a commercial trade to make for a client. Why don’t you and your boy come with me? I’m not going very far, and maybe you can consider it as a holiday. What do you say?” He suggested. 

“Henry would love it, he’s never been on a spaceship.” She smiled to herself, her gaze lost in thought, then she lifted her eyes to find Killian’s “Thank you,” she said serious, “but I can't answer right now. I'll think about it.”

“Ok, guys, while I enjoy the company, I have to put Roland to sleep.” Robin stood up and took his cup to the little sink in the corner.

“Yeah, sure, I’ve already taken up so much of your time.” Emma stood up as well and started moving towards the door.

“Stay. Just for the night... or more.” Killian was stammering, but at Emma’s bewildered look, he scratched behind his ear for the second time that night, a bright red colored his cheeks “...I… I didn’t mean…” 

“What my friend is so awkwardly trying to say,” Robin explained, “is that it’s already late, and it could be dangerous for you and your son to go back to your place by yourselves, especially if those rumors of raids are true. If you want, Henry could sleep with Roland, you could stay in my room and I will crash on Killian’s couch. You won't hear any complaints from us.” 

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~·~·~·~

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The Jolly Roger wasn't the biggest spaceship in the multiverse, but it was big enough to host a small crew and a little cargo.

In the middle of the main entrance, there was a round table with four chairs, everything well secured to the floor. A lot of lockers filled up the walls and a counter opposite the gate served as a kitchen, with a microwave, a little fridge, and a sink.

A big electric sliding door on the right, usually open, led to the main cabin. A semi-oval room mainly occupied by the control dashboard full of buttons, LEDs, and levers, two comfortable leather armchairs in front of it, and walls as well rich of small lockers when not occupied by the big curved window.

On the other side of the entrance, opposite the control cabin, there were a couple of automatic doors. One of them led to the passengers’ cabins, each one with bunk beds, a small desk, and more lockers on the walls. The other door led to a hallway and a little but all equipped restroom. 

In the hallway, a metal spiral staircase led to the under part of the ship, which consisted mostly of the engine room and a storage room with its own gate used for loading the cargo.

Killian was sitting in front of the control dashboard, checking the air pressure inside the cabin, and verifying that all the levels were stable. 

The last four days had been different, with Emma and Henry at Robin’s house, the routine had been turned a bit upside down. They had decided that going back to their house wasn’t safe. Henry had been occupied with school and homework most of the time and he had spent the rest of it with Roland; the two of them had connected quite well, despite the age gap. 

Emma had been concentrated on her job, and although Killian would have liked to give her a hand whenever he could, she hadn’t even let him help her when she brought some of hers and Henry’s belongings from home to her new lodging. 

Dinners together had been sometimes awkward, and Killian had had the feeling that she was trying to avoid him. That’s why he had been surprised when she abruptly accepted to go with him on his next trip.

And now he was sitting in his spaceship cabin waiting for her and her son to come. Everything was ready for takeoff and the engine was already roaring. A red LED on the dashboard started to blink and a cold metallic voice was heard through the cabin. 

I detect intruders on this ship.

Killian smiled. “They are not intruders. They are guests, so be gentle.”

Emma entered the cabin carrying a small suitcase. “Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt.” She said looking around, but when she didn’t find what she was looking for, she added “Uh… I thought I heard voices. To whom were you talking?”

Killian stood up from his seat “Where are my manners? Emma Swan, let me introduce you to the Jolly Roger.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “The Jolly Roger. Seriously?”

“What can I say? I have a soft spot for pirates.” He smiled.

The metallic voice spoke: It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Swan. 

“Your ship speaks!” Emma was astonished.

“Indeed she does. She's a marvel.” He explained with a big grin.

A sound like a soft metallic cough could be heard, and Killian couldn't help giggling.

“Well... then, nice to meet you, too.” She said to the air, and then looking at Killian again: “Where can I put our bags?”

“Right. I'll show you your cabin and the rest of this place.” He said, and then with an overdramatic bow and a wink added: “Consider yourself at home.”

Emma rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile.

Another soft cough could be heard.

“Are you sure your ship is fine?” She asked, perplexed. “It sounds a bit congested.”

“Don't worry about her, she can be a bit of an arse with strangers. But give her some time and she will grow fond of you.” At those words, the red LED suddenly stopped blinking and went off. Killian shook his head and chuckled.

As soon as he was sure that Emma and Henry were well settled in their cabin, Killian came back to the controls and took off. When the ship was out of Althea-Seals’ atmosphere he sighed in relief because everything had gone as planned, but he knew that he couldn’t relax until he’d reached a certain distance.

The red LED started blinking again. Would you do me the favor and stop referring to me as a female?

“You're a spaceship,” Killian answered the voice.

Exactly my point. And you and I both know I'm not only that.

[simsadventures]

Better Like This- Chapter 1: The Squad

Chapter Summary: Reader is on her way to her new department, the SVU, or as people like to call them, the Avengers. She thinks back to her previous department and is introduced to the squad. Nothing can happen, right? 

Warnings: I used one swear word, sue me, other than that: none, it is a police AU, beware

Pairing (in this chapter): Alpha!Tony x Omega!Bruce, Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader, 

Word Count: 2121 

A/N: This is really just an introductory chapter to get this thing going. Bear with me please, it will get better, I promise. More action coming soon! x

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

Your feet carried you along the hallway. This was it, you were finally here. The one place you’ve dreamed about, the ones towards which all of your hopes were inclining. The special victims unit of New York’s police. Most people, however, called them the Avengers for the dedication to avenging the unfortunate victims’ souls and lives. You knew you couldn’t work for this team unless someone put a good word for you and your well-done job. 

So you kept your head down, and after the police academy went to work for the missing persons unit to prove you were a more than capable of handling the job. One thing that stood in your way, and not only in the police work was your presentation. Ever since you presented as Omega when you were 17, your life changed dramatically. You were used to the stereotypes and aggressive and touchy Alphas by now, and with your training, you could take on most of them. 

You could, however, see that most Alphas in the police academy and then later in your previous unit weren’t trusting your skills and they were undermining your every step of the way. But you came back stronger, more determined and definitely more than ready to show all those assholes that you were more than a womb for their seed or a pretty face. You were tough! And you were about to prove it! 

The team of the SVU was a big one, the whole police department knowing that these were the crimes most common in NY and in this case, the more, the merrier. The unit was run by an Alpha, naturally, but from what you heard, he was one of the good ones. 

His name was Captain Rogers, and from the photos you’ve seen from the numerous arrests you saw, he was really handsome, with that big bulky arms and enchanting eyes. Not really your type if you were honest with yourself, he looked like too much of a goody-goody, but, who knows, right? But looks aside, all departments knew that this Captain was fair, doing his job so well some people wanted to see him in a chair of a Commissioner, even though he was only 30-35, who could tell, right? You were actually really excited to work for/with him and most importantly, to learn from him. Hopefully, you’d get the chance.

Other than him, however, you didn’t really know anyone from the team. You could maybe tell one or two names, but that was it. You really hoped these people, even though most probably mostly Alphas, were not as horrible as your previous team. You didn’t mean to offend anybody, but they really were just bunch of knot-headed idiots… 

All except the only Beta on the team, and your rock for the past two years. His name is Vision or short Vis, and he really was one of the main reasons why you stayed on the team and didn’t give up on your dream. It was him telling you almost every day that you were good enough and that you could do big things, if only you wanted and were determined enough to actually start doing them. Soon after you guys met, he introduced you to his fiancé, Wanda, also a Beta, who is an artist- she does everything from oil painting to creating sculptures from old washing machines (yup, she’s done that!). 

Sure, you did have some friends from college, but you mostly lost touch with them, never really feeling as if you fitted between them. The Alphas really only saw you as a piece of meat, and the Omegas… well, they were friendly, and all but you could see that their only aspiration in life was to get mated, give their Alphas as many pups as they could and.. that was it. 

However, there still was one exception (there always was, right?) and you were thanking whatever God was sitting upstairs for bringing her into your life. Her name was Gamora and, just like you, she wanted to prove to everyone that Omegas were as valuable in the society as any Alpha. She was now part of the fire department in NY, the only Omega in the whole unit, and you couldn’t have been more proud of her. 

You stopped before the door to the office. You shouldn’t be thinking about your whole life right before you’re starting a new job. You cleared your throat, took three calming breaths and opened the door. 

What you could already tell from just the one step you took into the open-office, was the lighter air that surrounded you. You could smell all three presentations mingling in the air, and the atmosphere could only be described as calm. Which is definitely not the word you would use to describe your previous job. Sure, stressful, constricted, too-much-testosterone, those words you could use, but calm? Friendly? Never.

Few people looked up from their works, slightly nodded their heads and smiled, but nothing really more than that as you continued on your way to the Captain’s personal office. 

 Knock, knock. “Come in,” you heard from the inside of the room. “Ah, detective Y/L/N. You are a little early, I like that!” He smiled, warmly at you as you shook his hand. “Captain Rogers, I’m really thankful for this opportunity and-“you couldn’t finish your sentence as he raised his hand and smiled again. “Don’t thank me, detective. It was your hard work and so many successful arrests and finding of the missing people that got you this job. We are thrilled to have you here.” 

You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding. When he raised the hand, you really expected him to shut you up by saying that he had to employ you, or that he doesn’t expect you to last so you shouldn’t really be thankful. But the warmth which radiated from him, his friendly smile, those were not the things you were prepared for.  

“So, to get to the work, I’ll pair you up with one of our senior detectives, Scott Lang. Give me a sec.” He went around you, opened the door and yelled: “Hey, Lang, your new partner’s here.” 

Which was followed by a loud laughing howl by what you thought was Scott. “Excuse him, he is just a big child sometimes, but somehow, he is really good at his job.” Steve looked at you, half amused. “’s ok. I’m really used to pretty much anything, sir.” You smiled at him as you smelt an Alpha coming to the office. 

“You must be Y/L/N! I’m so excited to meet you! I mean, sheesh, your stats? Unbelievable, you gotta show me all your secrets, dude!” He then grabbed you and pulled you into a bear hug. What the fuck is happening? 

“I mean when I heard I was gonna be paired up with you? Man, I almost fainted! You are like a fracking legend thanks to that Rumlow arrest!” He was literally beaming. You couldn’t help your own smile as you watched the Alpha ramble on and on. 

You giggled when Captain stopped Scott from going on with his outburst. “Alright, you can fangirl over your partner later, Lang,” he turned to you with an apologetic shrug, to which you just smiled and rolled your eyes playfully. “Let me introduce you to the rest of the squad, and after that, we got a job to do. Come on.”

“Listen up, squad. This is detective Y/N Y/L/N. Detective, this is your new squad, your new family. Detective Tony Stark,” he showed you a smaller Alpha, with a smirk on his face, obviously full of himself but he didn’t look at you like you were a piece of meat. Just amused look seeing a newbie, really. 

“He is also like our IT genius, so whenever you have a problem, he is your person.” The Captain continued. You both just nodded at each other, and the introduction continued. “This is his Omega, doctor Bruce Banner, he is our forensic guy and pretty much anything science-going on, it goes through him.” Bruce hugged you, “It is so nice to meet you, it must be overwhelming to come to such big new squad, but these idiots are really fine.” He smirked at you, and you laughed. “Hey, who you calling an idiot, huh? We’ll talk about it at home, LOVE!” Tony’s voice beamed behind Bruce. He just rolled his eyes and shrugged, “Yeah, whatever you say, my big bad Alpha.” 

You really laughed out loud and even snorted a little, which caused little laughs all around the squad. “With a laugh like that? You’ll be just fine here, sweetheart.” Said the only female voice on the team, a Beta who introduced herself as Natasha. You liked her immediately. “I haven’t heard such teasing between Alphas and Omegas in a long time, that’s all.” “Well, sweetie, get used to it because the teasing here? That’s a daily tea!” She smiled and winked. “Oh I can’t wait, bring it!” You all laughed when suddenly, the front door opened.

Before you could actually notice who was coming in, you could smell them. Two Alphas. One’s smell was very regular, and due to your suppressants (which you were really taking as a precaution in your line of work), all Alphas smell more or less the same to you. You can smell the testosterone and the “strength” if you could call it that. 

But the other Alpha was different. You took another whiff of air, and it suddenly hit you like a tidal wave. This Alpha (you couldn’t yet see if it was a man or a woman, due to the squad surrounding you) smelled like heaven to you. It was a combination of sandalwood, the smell of forest shortly after rain and something else, like a spice which you weren’t able to identify. But you didn’t really care. 

The only thing running through your mind was one word: MATE! MATE! MATE! Was it possible? 

Not that you didn’t believe in true mates, your heart was romantic enough to keep that hope alive. But as you were growing older, and none of the Alphas you met ignited any fire in you, you started to slowly give up. 

But now you were sure. He or she was here and though you would never say it out loud, the Omega in you started purring contently. You could remotely hear the team talking about something, a joke maybe? You weren’t sure as you went on your tip-toes to try and see who walked through that door. You could see 4 eyes looking your way, one pair brown and you felt that those weren’t those eyes you were looking for. 

The second pair was icy blue and when you looked into them, you felt as if the Alpha could see right into your soul. You wanted to look away, tried not to be the stereotypical Omega, but you just couldn’t make yourself let go. 

There was a scenario in your head, for when you’d meet your Alpha. You tried not to think of it, but it was there, in the back of your mind. You would look at each other, walk towards each other, touch each other’s cheek and smile and just be happy. You didn’t need a fairytale, just this little act of future love and affection. 

Your feet, therefore, carried you towards this Adonis of an Alpha, still looking into his eyes. What you didn’t expect, however, was the Alphas loud growl. It stopped you in your tracks. You wanted to whine but stopped yourself. You were an adult with some self-control. Even if you could feel this control slipping away each second you were in the Alpha’s presence. 

He snarled, shook his head and turned around to run out of the open-office and, probably, outside of the building too. 

The whine escaped your lips however hard you tried to suppress it. What was this Alpha’s problem? You immediately started to blame yourself, for probably not being his type, or not being pretty enough, but you stopped yourself. You used to blame yourself for every little misstep, for every bad mood of your father’s, Christ, even for the rain pouring down too hard when you had to do something outside. But the longer you spent with good friends like Gamora or Vis you realised, other people’s issues had mostly nothing to do with you.

So you knew that this wasn’t your fault! He just left without even getting to know you, touching you… What was this Alpha’s problem?

Next chapter>

Tags: @kneel-begyourpardon @bellamys @crazybutconfidentaf @carlya65 @boxofteenageideas @hiken-no-stark @get0verit @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese  @mywinterwolf @cat-of-your-eye @iheartsebastianstan

If your name is striked, for some reason Tumblr won’t let me tag you. Dunno what to do with it, so sorry :(

If you’d like to be tagged comment/message/send an ask. If you like the story, please reblog :) any comments are appreciated, even the critical one. Always a space to get better, so let me know what you guys think. <3

[spicykoreantatertots]

Peach (Lobotomy) - Part One

Pairing: Hoseok x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Rating: G

Genres: SFW, Soulmate AU, College AU, F2L, Angst, Fluff

Summary:  In a world where there is no limit to the number of possible soulmate connections, you've become obsessed with figuring out what yours will be. While walking to class one day, you find a ring on the ground. A ring that will finally lead you to your soulmate.

Warnings: this is only part one! this is slightly angsty, but there is fluff. 

A/N: Proud to be part of the Luv Library Collab! This is the first part of my first soulmate fic. Part two will be coming before the end of the month. I may also do a NSFW one shot later this year. I’m excited to continue working on my soulmate series (one for each member). They are all based on songs by Waterparks, check out Peach (Lobotomy). Big shout out to @megahwn and @joonkookiemonster​ for beta reading, @namluve​ for this beautiful banner, and to @ho-baebae​ and @lovely-literati​ for always being supportive. Love y’all! 💜

~~~~~~~

You've seen it happen a million times before. When someone meets their soulmate for the first time, it’s like watching magic happen. It's just a moment, a spark, and then that person's entire life changes.

There are countless types of soulmate connections out there. From color blindness and red threads to timers and birthmarks. Some people can write to their soulmate and the words will appear on their skin, no matter how far away they are. Some people can hear the thoughts of their soulmate or taste what they're tasting. It's exciting, waiting to meet that person who is everything you need. The person made just for you.

But it's terrifying for those who don't have an obvious connection to their soulmate. It's terrifying for people like you. You weren't born with a special mark, you weren't born with colorblindness or someone else's thoughts in your head. There's no obvious way for you to connect with and find your soulmate, and it often keeps you up at night worrying.

Being the optimistic person and hopeless romantic that you are, you've done your best to stay positive. You know that there is someone out there, there's someone for everyone. So you've spent the first 21 years of your life keeping your eyes wide open. Waiting for the sign, the connection.

When you were in high school, you were sure that your connection must be eye contact. You walked around constantly looking people in the eyes, probably looking like a psychopath

The summer before college, you spent the summer abroad in Spain. Part of you hoped you would meet some rugged Spaniard, but the other part of you knew that your Spanish was mediocre at best. 

Freshman year of college you had a persistent craving for pickles and you were sure that had something to do with finding your soulmate. But then you met Hoseok and he helped you figure out that you were just dehydrated and you needed electrolytes.

You actually met Hoseok in line at the dining hall. Your request for an entire bowl of pickles on the side disgusted him. He followed you to a table, confronting you about your strange eating habits.

“An entire bowl of pickles? That’s disgusting.” Hoseok joked. 

“Well I’ve been craving them non-stop. Hopefully this is my soulmate connection.” You replied as you sat at the last open table, trying to avoid touching the various sticky spots on the table. 

“You hope? As you don’t know what your soulmate connection is?” Hoseok questioned, mouth full of french fries. 

“No, not for sure. I don’t have a mark or anything.” And as if he could sense your dejectedness, he cheerily followed up by telling you that he doesn’t have an obvious connection either. Of course your mind immediately goes to the possibility that he is, in fact, your soulmate.

It doesn’t help that he is gorgeous. Dark hair, chiseled jaw, bright smile hidden behind soft lips. Lips that you really really want to kiss. 

Unfortunately Hoseok isn’t your soulmate. The two of you spent almost everyday together for the semester and no connection ever presented itself. Eventually the urge to kiss him dissipated (for the most part) and you gained a really great friend. Every time you feel miserably alone, he’s there to comfort you. He's been there for every missed connection, every failed attempt to find your soulmate.

There are still days that you wake up with The Feeling. The feeling that tells you it’s finally the day you’ll find your soulmate. And today just so happens to be one of those days. When you woke up, you didn't feel tired. You were able to get up and out of bed and ready for class in time to stop to get coffee for you and Hoseok. 

The Feeling leaves you on edge. You keep your phone in your pocket instead of scrolling through your daily rotation of socials. Making sure to keep a small smile on your lips, you try to make eye contact with as many people as you can.

Surely people think you are a crazy person, but you won't miss an opportunity to meet your soulmate for the first time. Unfortunately, none of the customers in the coffee shop or the Baristas are your soulmates. But that's okay! There is still plenty of time left in the day.

"Today's the day Hobi! I can feel it." Hoseok is leaning up against his car in the parking lot waiting for you as usual. The two of you have the same math class every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning. 

"Yeah I'm pretty sure you said that about last Wednesday too." Hoseok playfully nudges you as he accepts the coffee you've brought for him.

"Okay yes, but I feel REALLY good about today. Maybe I've just been missing him by a few minutes." 

"I wish you weren't so obsessed with this, Y/N." Hoseok pauses, adjusting the strap of his backpack. "You always end up disappointed and I hate seeing you upset."

"Wow thanks for believing in me." You turn away from him and continue down the sidewalk path, rapidly approaching the Mathematics Building.

"It's not that I don't believe in YOU, I just hate watching you obsess over this, can't you just enjoy life and let your soulmate come to you?"

"LET MY SOULMATE COME TO ME? Hoseok didn't you hear about the girl who WAITED for her soulmate to find her and ended up finding him in a COMA? I CAN'T RISK IT!"

"Y/N you can't assume the worst just becau..." And you don't hear the end of whatever Hoseok was going to say. Because in that moment you see something shiny on the ground a few feet in front of you.

You jog ahead of Hoseok, and you see a gold ring abandoned on the sidewalk. You bend to pick it up. Hoseok has now caught up with you. He's trying to get your attention, but all you can focus on in this moment is the ring. You have the same giddy feeling you always do. Butterflies flitting around in your stomach. It’s your soulmate's ring, you're sure of it. 

"What is it Y/N?" Hoseok leans over your shoulder to see the ring you're turning over in your fingers. It's a fairly simple gold ring. There is a simple design carved around it and an inscription inside it. Two initials. You can feel your heart swell, your pulse begins to race.

"It's my soulmate's ring Hobi. I knew today was going to be a good day." You can read the skepticism in his frown and knitted brow. He doesn’t refute you though, maybe he can sense the certainty you’re feeling.

“We’re gonna be late for class.” He huffs, continuing down the path at a pace you struggle to keep up with. 

~~~~~~~

The lecture on Inverse Trigonometric Functions does not hold your attention very long. All you can really do is turn the ring over in your fingers imagining the man that it belongs to. He’s probably got dark hair, tan skin, glasses. He probably looks so sexy in glasses.

“So I guess you’ll be borrowing my notes later then?” Hoseok whispers and motions toward your blank notebook. “Of course, you’ve got something more important to do than take notes, don’t you?” 

“Yeah I’ve got to track down my soulmate.” As soon as you finish the thought, reality begins to sink in. “Hobi?” You whisper back at him, shoulders slumping. “How am I going to find him?”

Hoseok sighs, settles himself back into the seat, and continues taking notes. Absentmindedly, you pick up your pen and begin doodling the initials “JW”. Your pen traces over the letters, darkening them with each stroke. 

“We’ll find him.” Hoseok places his hand over yours, stopping the obsessive movements of your pen. When he pulls his hand back you look up at him. He’s looking forward, jaw clenched. And you know that just like every other time, with every other potential soulmate, he’s determined to help you. 

~~~~~~~

Hoseok asked you to sleep on it, give yourself some time to process before beginning the process of finding the owner of the ring. 

It was a nice idea, sleeping on it. But in practice it proved to be very difficult. After tossing and turning for half an hour you began mentally designing a Found: Gold Ring flyer in your head and planned where to put them up around campus.

Now your mind has wandered elsewhere. You find yourself browsing social media, looking at the University’s page. Scrolling through the followers and stopping at every J and W you find. 

You: I'm never going to find him. [4:12am]

You: Do you know how many JWs there are in this city? [4:12am]

You: And what if he's not even on social media? [4:16am]

Hoseok: Everyone is on social media. [4:18am]

You: Oh no did I wake you? [4:18am]

Hoseok: Yes. Please tell me you have not been awake all night. [4:18am]

You: I have not been awake all night. [4:19am]

You: 😬 [4:19am]

Hoseok: I have an idea. [4:20am]

You: 👀 [4:20am]

Hoseok: I have a friend who works as a student assistant in the registrar's office, maybe he can help us. Let's meet at 8 instead of 8:45 [4:23am]

You: okay 🥺 [4:24am]

~~~~~~~

"What do you mean "no," Namjoon?" Hoseok is standing at the front of Namjoon's desk.

"Hoseok I am not breaking FERPA for any reason." The blonde boy leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. Government policy prevents him from sharing student’s personal information, but this is bigger than the government. It’s fate, the Universe, call it what you want, but it’s more important than FERPA. 

"Namjoon, I need to find my soulmate, I have to track him down!" You're about to start crying, peering around Hoseok. You had only seen Namjoon once before at a party, he was drunkenly debating the finer details of Platonism with a girl who was clearly only interested in taking him upstairs.

“If I were to give you a list of all the names and phone numbers of students that go to this University, I could be fined thousands of dollars!” He uncrosses his arms and hits his hand on the desk to emphasize his point. 

That’s when you notice the timer on his wrist. Counting down to the moment he meets his soulmate. 

“Namjoon, look at the timer on your wrist. You know exactly when you are going to meet your soulmate. But I have nothing.” He looks down at his wrist, the timer silently ticks closer to zero. “I have no timer, no mark, no connection except maybe this stupid ring.”

You tug at the ring you placed on a chain around your neck for safe keeping. It shines under the fluorescent lighting. Namjoon looks at the ring then back at your face. You’re sure it’s blotchy and red, but you hope that he understands how important this is. 

“Can you help us Joon?” Hoseok asks, pulling a small flash drive from his coat pocket. The only response is a deep sigh, but Namjoon grabs the flash drive and quickly downloads the data. 

“If anyone finds out about this, I’m going to say you hacked into my computer.” Namjoon says, stopping short of handing the drive back to Hoseok.

“I owe you one.” Hoseok winks before he grabs the drive out of Namjoon’s hand.

Hoseok heads out into the hallway and you follow closely behind him, turning back to mouth a ‘thank you’ at Namjoon who responds with a curt nod. 

~~~~~~~

After a trip to the library and $25 worth of printing, the two of you are holed up in your apartment.  Take-out, two bottles of wine, and 250 pages of student names and phone numbers are set out on the coffee table, an R&B album playing on the stereo. Hoseok watches as you flip through the large stack of pages on the coffee table.

“Wait why did you print every name?” Hoseok wonders while he picks at the remains of the food in his container.

“You said it would be easier to have a hard copy.” You huff, dropping the pages on the floor in front of you. Hoseok can feel the frustration radiating off of you. 

“Yes, but maybe we should have sorted out the Js and Ws before printing...” He sets down his food and motions for you to hand him the pile. 

Hoseok begins thumbing through the pages, wondering to himself how long it will take to narrow down the pool of potential soulmates. He locates the Ws and sets the rest of the pages aside. 

“Here, let’s just start here and see what we can find.” He says, splitting the smaller stack in two and handing you half. Hoseok begins reading through each name on the page, pausing only to highlight a name or take a drink from his wine glass. 

After about half an hour, Hoseok has highlighted two dozen names on his portion of the list. You're huddled over the pages, flicking the corners of it absent-midnedly. He can tell that you’ve lost steam, possibly from the two very full glasses of wine you’ve had tonight. 

“Are you almost finished?” Hoseok sets his pages down on the floor next to him and leans his head back against the couch behind him. 

“Oh yeah I finished, I just wanted to go back through to be sure.” You lean back from your hunched over position and lay flat against the floor. 

“I’ve got about two dozen names, how many did you get?” Hoseok yawns and rubs his eyes.

“I found thirty.” You manage through a yawn of your own. It’s barely 9:00pm, but the mundane task of finding matching initials mixed with bellies full of take out and wine makes for a couple of very sleepy friends. 

There’s got to be something he can do to reenergize the two of you. He knows you’re excited to find your soulmate. But after being by your side through so many failed attempts in the past few years, he can tell you’re starting to feel discouraged. 

“Get up.” Hoseok says, an idea brewing in his mind. You look up at him, eyes narrowed. “Come on.” Hoseok gets up and moves to put himself toe to toe with you. He reaches into his pocket for his phone and scrolls through his playlist. 

An upbeat song begins playing through the speakers and Hoseok extends his hands out to you. He can tell you’re fighting a grin and that makes his own smile double in size. You finally give in and grab hold of his hands. Hoseok quickly pulls you up off the ground and twirls you around before letting go. 

“I’m not doing this Hobi.” You stand still, covering your face with your hands while the beat of the song fills up your small apartment. Hoseok’s body is moving to the music. He’s always been a dancer, effortlessly contorting his body, hitting each beat perfectly in time. 

Hoseok knows you aren’t a good dancer, but he loves seeing you try. Loves watching you be silly. So he reaches for your hand once again and pulls you toward him. He uses his hands to guide you, gently shaking you to loosen up your joints. Your awkward movements make him laugh, but he’s happy to see you smiling again. Swaying along to the music with you, Hoseok feels good. The stress of the day melting away. 

He twirls you away from his body as the song is ending, but instead of letting go he tugs on your arm, silently asking you to twirl back into his arms. You’re giggling when you fall back into his arms. His face is only inches away from yours and for the first time in a long time he finds himself wanting to close the distance. 

When the two of you first met, he felt a pull to you. At first he had hoped that you were his soulmate. You were beautiful, funny, silly, and just what he had been looking for. There was no magic moment between you though. No signal that your connection to him was meant to be something more than friendship. 

Before he can think too much about how your lips still look so soft, you pull away from him. Hoseok pauses to catch his breath, shaking his head to clear out the thoughts. 

“Okay I do feel better.” You announce, moving to the kitchen to pop the second bottle of wine. Hoseok sits down on the couch, picking up his laptop. He logs onto Facebook, trying to occupy his mind by searching for the first guy on with the initials J W. “Alright, this is it.”

“What is it exactly?” Hoseok replies, distracted by a video of goats screaming to the tune of Taylor Swift’s latest single. 

“We’re about to find my soulmate Hobi!” Your beaming smile is almost enough to quell the unsettled feeling growing in his gut. 

“Right, right. Here goes nothing.” Hoseok types the name of the first guy on his list and begins scrolling through his available pictures. He is scrutinizing the stranger, his clothes, the way he poses for the pictures. Soulmate or not, is this guy really good enough for you?

“What should the game plan be?” You say, almost startling Hoseok. “Should we just do a quick round looking for the ring in the pictures?” 

“Yes let’s do that, and then we can go back through if we don’t find the ring on anyone.” Hoseok nods moving to the next name on his list, silently hoping that he isn’t the one either. 

~~~~~~~

It was very easy for you to get distracted looking at these potential soulmates. Of course, based on their social media profiles it was also pretty easy to rule some people out. Several of the men had their soulmate’s in the profile pictures. Some had visible soulmate marks or timers in their photos. But there were still a large number of men who could be the one. And you took your time sizing each one up. 

Jason Williams is clearly athletic, plays for the university soccer team, and recently ran a marathon. It’s good for him, but you hope he won’t mind you sitting on the sidelines of the next marathon rather than participating. 

Jaylen Williams has no photos available for viewing, but it only takes three seconds on his profile to realize that his views on feminism leave much to be desired. 

Jesse Williams is a nerd, to put it lightly. His profile picture is a loveable picture of him dressed as Spiderman at last year’s comic con. Many of his posts are related to the Marvel Universe and you can tell that he takes it very seriously. According to his profile, he is studying physics. 

Joshua Wilson seems nice. He’s playing guitar in his profile picture. His beanie and flannel shirt make you wonder if he considers himself a hipster. His latest post is about the inadequate coffee served at the local cafe and how he should just do it at home. Maybe he makes a good cup of coffee, you could get into that. 

James Wilt is handsome. He’s hair smoothed perfectly back, facial hair trimmed neatly. Just as you’re about to scroll down to look at his posts, Hoseok interrupts you.

“Y/N?” He says quietly. “I think I’ve got him.” Your heart jumps into your throat. Setting the laptop down on the coffee table, you scoot over to look at Hoseok’s screen.

Jackson Wang. He’s gorgeous. And he’s clearly wearing the ring. 

“Hobi...” You don’t really know what to say, but he seems to understand. He puts his arm around you and slides his laptop from his lap to yours. You begin scrolling through and seeing pictures of him surrounded by friends, they look like fraternity brothers. It’s not quite what you were expecting out of a soulmate, but as you continue looking through his profile you learn that you are actually quite compatible. 

He has a similar taste in music, loves his family, he’s on the university fencing team, and he might love cheese even more than you do. 

“I... I don’t want to be the one to say it, but all we know for sure is that it’s his ring.” Hoseok says sheepishly. You want to roll your eyes, but he’s right. Just because you had a feeling about it doesn't guarantee that Jackson is your soulmate.

“There’s only one way to find out.” You say handing Hoseok’s laptop back to him. 

“Right.” Hoseok nods before tilting his head. “Wait what?” 

“I’ll send him a friend request and I’m going to message him. I’ll have to meet him in person.” You say as you begin typing out a message on your computer. 

“You are NOT going to meet him in person Y/N. He’s a total stranger!”

“Hoseok he could be my soulmate!” You pleaded. There’s a long silence stretching between you. Hoseok is thinking, scanning your face. He’s spent the day helping you track him down and now suddenly he’s so concerned about you meeting him?

“I’ll go with you.” He mutters followed by a sigh of defeat. He sinks back into the couch as you finish typing out your message to Jackson and attach an image of the ring.

You: Hey, are you missing your ring? I found one that looks like it outside the Mathematics building. [9:13pm]

“And now we wait.” You sigh as you hit the send button. The tension between you and Hoseok is still palpable, but you reach for the remote to turn on the television. Luckily for you, Hoseok’s favorite movie is playing on one of the channels and it doesn’t take long for the tension to relax into a comfortable silence.

~~~~~~~

Hoseok wakes to a ping on your phone. The two of you had fallen asleep on the couch during the movie. The TV screen is now dark, credits slowly rolling through. Your phone is shining brightly from it’s spot on the coffee table. 

Against his better judgement, Hoseok reaches for your phone.

Facebook: Jackson Wang has accepted your friend request. [11:46pm]

Facebook Messenger: Yeah wow! I’ve been missing it! [11:48pm]

Hoseok sets your phone back down and looks over at you. You’re fast asleep, head resting on the arm of the couch. It’s getting late.

“Y/N.” He whispers, nudging your foot with his own. You don’t stir, so he decides to get up and carry you to your bed. He carefully pulls back the throw blanket that covers you and hooks his arms under your body. The walk to your bed is short, but he trips over a pair of your shoes, almost dropping you. How are you still asleep?

When he reaches your bed, he sets you down gently and pulls your quilt over your shoulders. He gazes down at you. Once again feeling the pull to your lips. He leans down, brushes a few stray hairs off of your forehead and lightly brushes his lips against the skin of your forehead.

A warm sensation, tingling in his lips, a shiver down his spine. Hoseok pulls away, wide eyes staring down at you. But you don’t wake up. Though he would swear that he saw a smile pulling at your lips as he slowly backed out of the room.

~~~~~~~

As you slept you dreamed about meeting your soulmate. The warm feeling radiated throughout your body, all was right in the world. And when you wake you are happy to see a response from Jackson.

Jackson: Yeah wow! I’ve been missing it! [11:48pm]

You: Okay, wanna grab coffee and I can give it to you then? [9:23am]

Jackson: Haha, sounds great. Maybe tomorrow around 10? [9:56am]

You: That’s perfect, you know The Bean just north of campus? [9:59am]

Jackson: Yes I love that place. [10:01am]

You: Okay great! [10:01am]

You: Kind of a random question... [10:17am]

Jackson: Shoot [10:23am]

You: Do you know what your soulmate connection is? [10:24am]

You: I’m only asking because I don’t know mine. [10:27am]

You: And I thought maybe... [10:27am]

Jackson: Do you think you finding my ring could be... our connection? [10:30am]

You: I had a really good feeling about it when I found it. [10:31am]

Jackson: I don’t know mine, so maybe this is it... [10:34am]

You: I guess we’ll find out tomorrow, right? [10:35am]

Jackson: It’s a date. [10:39am]

~~~~~~~

The Bean is bustling today. Lots of people in and out, dozens of students working on projects and papers, so Hoseok has to sit a few tables away from you. The smell of the freshly ground beans 

“I won’t be able to hear you that well.” He shouts across the cafe. 

You’re too nervous to respond with something other than a shrug of your shoulders. Fiddling with the hem of your dress, you watch the door carefully waiting for him to walk in. The latte in front of you is still steaming, too hot to drink. 

The bell above the door chimes, ringing out over the chatter that fills the coffee shop. And there he is. Jackson Wang. Walking toward you with a self-assured smile. 

“Hi.” You mumbled, standing from your seat to greet him. He’s glowing in front of you, he’s all you can see. Jackson opens his arms you fit perfectly in them. You can feel butterflies in your stomach. It’s not as strong as you expected the soulmate bond to be, but it’s there. 

“I guess this is yours.” You tug lightly on the ring you’ve been wearing around your neck. 

“Well maybe you should wear it for a little longer.” Jackson replies, motioning for you to have a seat. “If we’re soulmates, that is?”

“Did you feel it too?” You ask shyly, tucking your hair back behind your ear. Jackson nods and reaches out to grab your hand across the table. The Feeling is here, just like it was when you picked up the ring, and you never want it to go away.

~~~~~~~

Hoseok watches the two of you chat for over an hour. He sees the exaggerated reactions you give to whatever story Jackson’s telling you. Just by the way your face is lighting up, he can tell you’re already falling hard.

Thinking back to the night before, Hoseok questions what happened. Was it just the wine going to his head? The two of you had been friends for so long now that he assumed it couldn’t be possible that the two of you were soulmates. Surely any hidden connection you had would have been realized by now. Maybe he’s just feeling jealous that you’re finally meeting your soulmate and he’s still alone.

But that kiss was unlike anything he had ever felt before.

Deep in his thoughts, Hoseok doesn’t notice when you and Jackson stand from the table and walk over to his.

“Hobi, this is Jackson.” Hoseok jerks his head upward, met with a confident smile from Jackson. Hoseok quickly stands and extends his hand. 

“I’m Hoseok, nice to meet you.” Jackson firmly shakes his hand. The two hold eye contact for just a little too long.

“She’s already told me so much about you. Thanks for helping her track me down.” Jackson chuckles. Hoseok looks over at you and notices that you are holding his other hand. 

“Thanks for helping me find my soulmate.” You chirp happily. Hoseok narrows his eyes, looking back and forth between you and Jackson. 

“Soulmates? Are you sure?” Hoseok questions you.

“Hoseok!” Your exclamation is accompanied by a slap on the arm. “Of course I’m sure!” You give a quick and embarrassed apology to Jackson.

The way you’re already clinging to Jackson makes Hoseok’s stomach twist. The look in your eye when you stare up at his face makes Hoseok want to shut his eyes. He can tell you’re smitten, but he’s got a bad feeling. Despite your obvious certainty that this is your soulmate, Hoseok can tell that something is just not right.

~~~~~~~

See you soon for Part 2! Comment to be added to the tag list! <3

Check out my Not Warriors Soulmate Series Masterlist!