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marchtothefuckingsea · 2 years ago

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Saving Grace - Gadreel

My Masterlist.

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: canon typical violence and gore, canon typical (temporary) character death (they're resurrected because this is spn lmao)

hurt/comfort, enemies to allies/lovers

Summary: Reader goes on a hunt alone that should've been simple, but it's an ambush by the angels. Gadreel isn't far behind.

"Looks like a demon case." I shrugged. I sat at the library table, turning in my seat to face the younger Winchester that had just emerged from the shelves.

"You sure you don't want one of us to come with?" Sam parked himself across the table from me. "There's a lot of angel stuff going around, you never know."

"I'll be fine, you guys focus on the important stuff. I just need to get out and stretch my legs, y'know?"

"Yeah." Sam smiled. "Go get em tiger!" He teased me when I pushed away from the table. I gave him the middle finger until I rounded the corner to my room. I grabbed my angel blade and a few demon-hunting necessities, and I was on my way to a small town a couple hours away.

When I parked my car in the driveway of the diner, it seemed like things had already begun to calm down. Only the police and a single civilian remained, and it appeared they had just sent him off. I cut him off, flashing my FBl badge.

"Agent Halen, FBl. I have some questions for you." I said briskly.

"Look, I already told the cops everything." He muttered, trying to step around me. I stepped to block him, and he scowled.

"I know but look, I just need to know from your perspective what went down. It'll only take a moment."

He sighed in defeat. "This guy in a suit came into the diner and waited there. He was waiting for this other guy, but he didn't look important."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well the guy he was meeting up with was all dirty and ragged looking. They didn't look like they had any business with each other." He glanced towards the diner, hands in his pockets. "I didn't pay much attention after that, but the dirty guy suddenly stands up and this huge knife comes out of his sleeve. Just practically appears out of nowhere."

"And then he slit the suit guy's throat and," He hesitated.

"And?"

"You're not going to believe me."

"Try me." I challenged.

He frowned, but continued. "It looked like some kind of glowing mist or something came out instead of blood. And he inhaled it, and his eyes glowed a really bright blue."

I nodded cautiously. "Thank you, that'll be all."

The man shoved his hands back in his pockets and walked away, just as a police officer approached me. I suddenly realized everyone else had left.

"What's the FBl doing on something like this?" He asked, looking me up and down. He had a strange glint in his eyes, and his stance seemed off to me. My hand crept towards the knife tucked in my waistband.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "We have our reasons."

"Well, we're just about to close up shop." He told me.

"I'll be quick."

"I don't think so." He flicked his wrist, and I went flying across the pavement. I grit my teeth, staggering back to my feet. I pulled my angel blade out, pointing it at him.

"Why did you kill another angel?"

"You hunters are getting awfully nosy." He complained. "It should be obvious."

"Is it that bad now? That you're killing each other for a drop of stolen grace?"

He shrugged. "Times are tough." He swept his arm to the side, and I flew up into the air. My back slammed into a wall, and I was pinned to the outside of the diner. My angel blade clattered to the ground at my feet, just barely out of reach.

I still fought to wrench myself free as he came closer. He bent down and picked up the blade, lazily spinning it between his fingers. He suddenly flipped it and sliced across my lower stomach. I hissed in pain. He drew it back, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

I cried out when I felt a white hot pain right in the middle of me. I looked down and saw the blade buried to the hilt in my abdomen. The angel released me from his invisible hold, and I fell to the ground on my side, sputtering and coughing up blood.

He dropped the blade beside me, kicking it closer to me with a smirk. I watched his boots retreat and listened faintly as he started up the cop car. Everything was dark by the time I heard the tires spin on the gravel. With a last shuddering breath, I let go.

Not long after the police car had left, another car rolled into the gravel parking lot. I laid dead and pale against the wall as the man stepped out of the car. Blood had soaked into the gravel around me. He took in the scene for a moment, before his eyes came to rest on my motionless figure.

The gravel crunched under his feet as he approached me. He kneeled beside me, eyeing the blade in the middle of my stomach. Rolling my body onto my back and placing a hand on my stomach, he pulled the blade out in a single, clean motion. The angel placed his palm firmly on my forehead. A strangled gasp tore out of my throat.

I scrambled to my forearms, pressing myself against the wall and eyeing him warily. "Who are you?"

"I am Gadreel." He answered. I felt my blood run cold. This was the same angel that had rode along in Sam, and lied through his teeth about who he was the entire time.

"Get away from me." I hissed.

"It's okay. I am not going to harm you." The angel held his hands up in surrender.

I instinctively covered my stomach with my arm in defense. I hesitated when I didn't feel any immense pain, and then I remembered; I should be dead. There should be an angel blade sticking out of me.

"You- you healed me?" I asked him, surprise evident in my voice. "No, you brought me back."

"You were dead."

"Why?" I demanded.

"You were stabbed-" He began.

"I know that." I snapped, pushing myself into a sitting position. My head spun at the movement. "Why did you bring me back?"

"I need your help." I narrowed my eyes at him suspiciously.

"With what?" Using the wall for support, I managed to get to my feet. Gadreel quickly mirrored my actions, and I noticed he didn't seem to be in very good shape himself. But he was still an angel and a liar. And even in his weakened state, still much stronger than me. I couldn't trust him.

"Metatron." He answered simply. I tried to take a step forward, but ended up lurching into him instead. He caught me quickly and I hissed at the stinging on my lower stomach. He lowered me to the ground, pressing his hands to the slash wound on my abdomen. It wasn't very deep, but it was painful and bleeding badly.

"I wasn't able to heal everything." He muttered. "Just enough to bring you back."

"It's fine." I grit my teeth, shifting under his hands. "Thanks anyway."

He helped me to my feet, and I leaned against him heavily. "Don't think I'm going to be able to drive back like this." I laughed humorlessly.

"Don't worry about it." He fumbled to open the passenger door, and he helped me in. I pressed a hand to my stomach as he came around to the driver's side. My keys were already in the cup holder, and he fished them out before getting in. He leaned back and reached into the back seat. I wondered what he was doing when he came back with one of my flannels.

"Use this." He threw it in my lap, and I gladly wadded it up and pressed it even harder to the wound, wincing.

"Thanks." I muttered.

We drove in silence. I almost asked him how he knew where the bunker was, but with a frown, I remembered how he had possessed Sam. I was beginning to wonder if getting into the car with him had been a good idea in the first place, but I hadn't had much of a choice.

I knew he had saved me, but he had to have his reasons. Just like he did when he had hitched a ride with Sam.

I found myself slumping against the door, and I woke up with a start. My eyes darted to the angel driving, but his eyes hadn't left the road.

"I thought you were Metatron's right hand man?" I asked, trying to keep myself awake and aware.

He frowned, his eyes on the road. "I do not believe Metatron's strategy is right anymore."

"So you're on your own now?" I asked.

"For now, yes. I was hoping to join forces with Castiel and the Winchesters."

"I don't know if that's going to be the best idea but," I paused. "I think I can vouch for you."

He had, after all, saved not only me but Sam too. Along with others we cared about on several occasions, like Castiel and Charlie. Thinking about it now, there was little doubt in my mind that he wasn't a good angel; he had just been manipulated by Metatron. Sure, he had killed Kevin and others-and there was no way I could ever forgive him for that-but he had believed he was doing the right thing. We had all been there at some point or another.

The corner of his lip quirked upward. "Thank you." We rode in silence a while longer before he noticed my struggling to stay awake.

"It would do you good to get some rest." He told me. "The bunker is still an hour away."

"Probably would." I sighed. I was still uncomfortable letting my guard down around the angel, but I figured if he had wanted to hurt me or show any hostility, he would have done so already. I leaned my head against the door and drifted off. My hands fell from the flannel soaking up the blood on my abdomen. I was already passed out by the time Gadreel reached over, steering with one hand, and placed his other hand on the flannel to keep the pressure on my wound.

I was awoken by a hand shaking my shoulder gently. "We're here."

I groaned, instinctively stretching my stiff limbs, but immediately regretting it when I felt the burning sensation on my abdomen. Gadreel had rounded the front of the car and opened the door for me. He hung back, giving me space and not forcing his help on me. I gave him an appreciative glance.

However, my legs almost immediately buckled when I put my full weight on them. He was quick to catch me, even though I instinctively cowered away from his touch.

"Careful." He grunted, an arm around my waist now for support. My other arm had been slung over his shoulder, making it so he had to bend down quite a bit at the dramatic height difference. I noticed he wasn't so steady on his feet, either.

Together, we staggered to the door of the bunker in the near darkness. I was surprised to find it unlocked. As soon as we stepped in, I heard voices coming from the library. We picked our way down the stairs, and it seemed like they still hadn't noticed our presence. It wasn't until we stumbled into view that Sam's face dropped and he called out in warning, causing Dean and Cas to look behind them.

Dean immediately got into a fighting stance. "What did you do to them?" He asked harshly.

"He didn't do anything to me, Dean." I grit my teeth, pulling myself away from the angel. I stumbled into a wall, ignoring Gadreel's concerned gaze. "He comes offering help."

"I did not come to fight." Gadreel raised his hands and stepped closer to me, causing Dean to tense up even more.

"Get over here." He barked at me. "And stay away from them!" Sam and Castiel exchanged bewildered glances.

"It was a setup, Dean." I explained as calmly as I could. I knew working him up-with the mark of Cain on his arm, no less-would only cause more trouble. "An angel ambushed me there, posing as a cop. He killed me."

"And?"

"And Gadreel brought me back, you idiot." I huffed. Both my energy and my patience were lessening by the minute. "He's a good angel, trust me."

"You expect us to trust him? After lying about who he was? After killing Kevin?" Dean growled.

"Dean, if you trust me, hear him out. That's all I'm asking." His angry gaze shifted to Gadreel.

"I thought about what you said. Metatron he's-" Gadreel started, but cut himself off. "Something needs to be done."

"And we should trust you, why?" Sam glared at him.

"Because I can give him to you. I know where Metatron is. I know everything."

He looked to Castiel. "I know the angels that- They were his agents. Not yours."

"You don't trust me, that's fine. I understand. I've made mistakes."

"But haven't you? Haven't we all?" He looked to the others, and they glared back at him distrustfully.

"At least give him a chance." I said.

Dean stepped forward, slowly holding his hand out to the angel. Gadreel reached to shake his hand.

It wasn't until I saw Dean reach behind him and pull out the first blade that I jumped into action. "No!"

Everything seemed to move in slow motion. I threw myself between them, shoving Gadreel back. The action caught him off guard, and he staggered back, running into a pillar. Dean swung the first blade in an arc. I couldn't get myself out of the way fast enough. The blade sliced across my abdomen and I stumbled backwards. Gadreel caught me by the shoulders and pulled me against him, lowering us both down to the floor.

Sam and Castiel rushed forward, struggling to hold Dean back. He growled and yelled, an animalistic hatred in his eyes. He hadn't even noticed, or cared, that he had attacked me instead of Gadreel. He just wanted to kill. This wasn't Dean, not at all.

I crumpled against Gadreel. My breath came in shallow pants and I realized, for the second time that day, that I was about to die. Except this time, Gadreel didn't have enough grace in him left to heal me. I gripped the sleeve of his jacket weakly, watching as Sam and Castiel wrestled Dean away from the angel and I.

Gadreel shifted his weight onto my wound and I gasped out a curse.

"Gadreel." I panted. He cringed and lessened the pressure at my agonized and pleading tone. I could see confusion in his eyes; why did he want to keep this human alive so bad?

"Castiel will heal you." He reassured me.

"No." I argued. "He doesn't have much grace either."

"He will." The angel insisted.

I startled at the sound of footsteps. I saw the familiar tan trenchcoat come into view. I didn't miss how Gadreel shifted over me protectively.

"I will not hurt them, brother." Castiel noticed.

"I know." Gadreel shifted uncomfortably.

Castiel kneeled beside me and raised his fingers to my forehead. I jerked away, shaking my head. "No. Your grace."

Gadreel held me in place, keeping me from struggling away from Cas. He touched his fingers to my forehead, and a warm feeling washed over me. My body involuntarily relaxed.

I glared at him, pushing myself onto my elbows. "It wasn't worth it." I muttered.

"We- I accept your help." Castiel shifted his gaze to Gadreel.

"And Dean?" I asked him.

"Dean is..Not in a sound place of mind." I nodded, frowning. We still had no idea how to rid him of the mark of Cain. He was like a brother to me, and it physically hurt to see him like this. I knew if we ever did get him back, he would feel endlessly guilty of everything he had done.

I pushed myself into a sitting position, swaying side to side as the room spun. Without meaning to, I leaned back against Gadreel as a wave of nausea swept over me. Cas shot a warning glance at the other angel, and somehow I knew what he was saying.

"Are you okay with Gadreel helping you to your room?" Cas asked me. "I must assist Sam with Dean."

I nodded.

"Good. I will check in later."

Taking a deep breath, I stubbornly attempted to get to my feet on my own. Gadreel was quicker though, and he immediately supported me by my waist. I leaned into him gratefully, and directed him down the twisting hallways to my room.

When we finally made it, he let me down onto my bed and stood in the middle of the room awkwardly. I suddenly realized he didn't have anywhere to stay.

"Gadreel." I said to get his attention. He had been looking down at the floor, but met my gaze when I called his name. "You can take any of the other rooms. Just go uh, look, and chances are if it looks bare there's no one staying there."

He looked more uncomfortable by the second.

"Or I mean, there's a couch," I pointed awkwardly to the other side of the room. "You can sleep there. It's not the most comfortable but when Cas comes back he can get you a room that for sure doesn't have anyone in it."

"If I'm not intruding."

"Of course you're not." I was much more comfortable with the idea than I would ever admit.

He took off his jacket and folded it neatly across the back of the couch. He settled across the couch, looking way too big for it. I sighed, curling onto my side facing him.

"Goodnight, Gadreel." I mumbled into the blankets.

"Goodnight."

Castiel came to check in as he promised a couple of hours later to find me passed out in my bed, and Gadreel stretched across my couch. The angel stirred when the door opened and a sliver of light from the hallway landed in his face.

"Gadreel?" Castiel asked, confusion lacing his voice.

"Yes?"

"I came to help you find a room." He said, his eyes moving between my restless form under the blankets and the angel who was now sitting up groggily.

"I appreciate your generosity brother," Gadreel said, his voice rough with sleep. "But I would prefer to stay here."

"That looks uncomfortable. And I'm sure they would like to have their own room to themself." A protective edge crept into Castiel's voice as he nodded towards me. I had begun to stir and whimper quietly in my sleep.

"They invited me to stay here." Gadreel said defensively. "And…I would like to watch over them."

"If you plan on doing anything to them-" Cas started.

"I don't, Castiel. I promise."

Castiel's glare was distrustful, but he gave my sleeping figure one last glance before turning and shutting the door behind him quietly.

Gadreel rose from the couch and kneeled beside my sleeping form. I stirred again, whimpering. He carefully pressed his palm to my head. I jerked awake, my eyes wild.

My eyes darted to the angel in front of me. He held his hands up in a non-threatening manner.

"Gadreel?" I mumbled in confusion before dropping back onto my side. My heart was beating out of my chest as the nightmare began to fade.

"What happened?" I asked, wondering why he was so close.

"I am sorry. You were having a nightmare. I was trying to fix it." He looked like a kicked puppy, I thought, then I mentally kicked myself for thinking that of an angel that had killed so many people. "My grace is very faint and I couldn't."

"I didn't even know angels could do that I-" I didn't know what to say. "Thank you, but I deal with this all the time, it's not a big deal."

"You shouldn't have to." He said sincerely.

"I don't know what it is about you," He frowned. "But I care. This is..strange."

"You're feeling more human all the time, aren't you?" I asked.

"I don't know what you mean."

"I mean, you're feeling things now, right?" He nodded slowly.

"It's okay. Castiel had to deal with that too. It's not a bad thing." I told him.

"All I know at the moment is I don't want to see you hurt." His frown deepened even more.

"Thank you." I leaned forward and gave him an awkward hug. He stiffened at first, before relaxing into it.

"Is there any way I can help with your nightmares?" He asked into my shoulder.

"Not really just..." I trailed off, wondering if I was crossing boundaries that I wouldn't be able to backpedal over. But would I even want to? I felt something for the angel, since we had first met him. He was punished for his mistake far too harshly, I had thought when he had explained.

"Yes?" Gadreel asked, pulling away and breaking me out of my thoughts.

"Just you being here would help." I admitted. The only times I never experienced nightmares was when I was watching movies with Charlie or the boys and ended up falling asleep around them.

"But I was just across the room and it didn't help." The angel looked confused.

"Yeah uh," I coughed, awkwardly scooting over. "You can sleep here if you want. It would probably be more comfortable than the couch anyway."

"Is this not…intruding?" I knew he knew little of human customs, but he seemed to know this was crossing a certain line.

"No it's not. You don't have to if you're uncomfortable with it-" I was cut off when he laid down on the opposite side of the bed. Our shoulders touched.

"This is alright?" He asked.

I had to remind myself to breathe, wondering what was coming over me. "Yeah." I murmured. I curled onto my side facing away from him, and I was surprised when he, almost automatically, did the same before pulling me against him.

"And is this okay?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Yeah, this is okay." I breathed out, relaxing into his embrace. My mind jumped around, wondering how this had happened, but it settled down quickly. My breathing evened out, and soon I was asleep.

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suna-reversed · 4 years ago

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𝐩𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡

toji fushiguro x reader

You could have anyone you want

Why would you want to be with me?

I’m nothing special

WC- 8k+ || MINORS DNI !!

my fic for the “great conjunction collab”

Warnings/tags- (unprotected sex, oral sex, slight voyeurism, choking, nipple play, mating press, size kink, slight breeding kink) (historical AU, non-canon timeline, greek mythology, hades-persephone retelling, mentions of misogyny/sexism, depression, religion, hurt/comfort, angst, heartbreak, major character injury, descriptions of blood, violence and death, manipulation)

𝙀𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙖 - 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙙

It would be an understatement to say that Toji, despite being one of them, had never felt like part of the clan and had hated the whole Zenin bloodline through all his years of suffering.

And the only thing he hated more than his own blood? It was the damned nobles who looked down upon him- mocking his lack of power under whispers and rumours. The spineless cowards didn’t even have the courage to spit those venomous words at his face.

He kept note of every single one of them- it was hard not to with how their laughs echoed in his mind each night as he dug his nails into his palms. So of course his attention was bound to drift towards the mother and daughter from a titled family that happened to take residence in the Zenin estate when they got news that their home down-south had been attacked.

𝘼𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙖- 𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙮

Your home had not been attacked. It was all planned of course- your travel to the mountains up north that crossed the Zenin abode, your mother having fabricated the news so that she had an excuse to find an honourable match for you from one of the most powerful clans. Her sly spies had already done the dirty work, providing you with two suitable men- even if one of them was twice your own age and the other known for his aggressiveness.

The white gown your mother had dolled you in and the orchids she had braided into your hair had every single eye focused on you as you made your way up to your chambers. You kept your head down, too nervous to meet the eye of anyone- hoping no older man took an interest in your facade of purity and innocence and decided to stake his claim on your body. Oh, how you wished you could get away from this life, get away from the wretched woman you had to call your mother, get away from all of it- the stupid clan- the stupid suitors- the stupi-

“Ah!”

You yelped as your body crashed into what seemed to be a rock hard wall of muscles, the scent of night chilled mist and cedar taking over your senses. You blinked.

Gulping, you moved back a step, ready to start sputtering apologies before your mother peeled your skin off for already having embarrassed yourself. Instead, your words stayed stuck in your throat as your gaze met with an intense pair of orbs- filled to the brim with the rage of achilles, but somehow also his sorrow. Your breath hitched in your throat, and in the back of your mind, you knew you should do something- move, apologise, scowl like a noble lady would if nothing else- but all you could do was stand there stunned, the man’s stance mirroring your own.

You flinched as the pot-bellied butler who was leading you down the hallway came back, and you thought the dark haired man might kill him right there for interrupting the burning moment between you two. Instead, you were shocked as he let himself get pushed to the side, stuffing his hands into his pockets, head down as he made a beeline towards the exit.

You barely felt the crescent moons being engraved into your skin as your mother dragged you to your room by the arm, a clipped smile on her face.

𝙊𝙧𝙥𝙝𝙚𝙪𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙀𝙪𝙧𝙮𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙚- 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙗𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫��

“Toji”

He continued walking, even as his eyes held a warning look. Gritting his teeth, he increased his pace.

“Toji-”

He shuddered. Say it again, he wanted to command, instead he turned the corner, hands curling into tight fists.

He had been confused at first, almost appalled, at you- at your audacity to try and act like he wasn’t who he was- a piece of scum, the lowest of the lowly in the clan. But it seemed like this is how you had decided to spend the rest of your time whenever you weren’t being flagged by suitors or being paraded around your mother as the ideal of a chaste loyal wife.

He had indulged you the first time you had struck up a conversation. Perhaps that was his initial mistake. His second being committed just now as he turned to you, the glee on your face making bile rise up to his throat. He had seen women like you before- well born “ladies” of the court in dire need of a good fuck, before they were packaged off like objects to a husband who’d only ever look at them as a vessel for carrying his children. Toji huffed in annoyance, eyes doing a quick scan of his surroundings before he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into one of the storage rooms right around the corner.

“Look-”

Toji cut himself off as he saw the baffled look on your face, your eyes starting to fill up with fear and panic. Somehow, he found himself speechless, the bitter words of telling you to go look for pleasure in a whorehouse now dissolving on the tip of his tongue.

He knew who you were being considered as a match for- having overheard the conversation during a clan meeting- it was supposed to be the sons of one of the higher ups and he could already picture the half wilted life you’d be living. And right then, something clicked in Toji’s mind- all those years of hatred and resentment flashing before his eyes as you hesitantly stepped back, tears welling up in your eyes, and right there, Toji knew what he wanted to do- what he had to.

He took a deep breath and your heart hammered even harder in your chest. He had been different from the rest of them- you had known it from the first time. However, now you doubted your own wits, trying to recall the ways of combat you had seen the soldiers back home perform- even though you didn’t quite see how you’d succeed against the tall burly mass of flesh that towered above you. You jumped back as he strode right towards you- eyes clenched shut, hands raised in front of your face ready for the impact and pain.

You were met with nothingness, barely feeling the light brush of his arm as he moved past you.

Toji sighed at your almost childish antics, even though he agreed your actions would have been justifiable if it was any other man having pulled you into such a secluded place. He waited for you to calm down, lazily looking for the latch of the huge glass window situated on the other side of the room. He easily lifted it open, biceps flexing as he did so- placing his hands on the ledge before pulling himself to the other side.

He turned back towards your gawking figure, rolling his eyes, ready to put forward the offer that would decide if you were worth his time and effort or not. He extended his hand, trying to ignore the heat crawling up to the tip of his ears at the giddy relief-filled grin that spread across your face as he asked,

“You ever visited the countryside princess?”

You must be an angel in disguise, he finds himself thinking. It terrified him- the time he had spent staring at the column of your neck, watching your chest fall and rise with every breath- and the time he could have spent simply admiring every crook and nook of your body.

You looked serene in the golden hour of the afternoon, lying on the grass with your eyes shut, sunlight cascading down your figure making it seem as if you carried your own halo. Toji was afraid you’d sprout wings any second now, disappearing away to someplace heavenly- someplace better than the hell you were about to be condemned to- someplace that didn’t have monsters like him. But at last, you were only a human- soon to be one of the Zenins if nothing else.

The time you had sneaked out to the lake in the countryside with him had not been the last of your rendezvous. You had been quite different from what Toji had expected. You hadn’t made any advances towards him but you weren’t the pure little thing everyone believed you to be either.

You were smart to say the least- a trait that families often suppressed in women of your status, trying to force them into nothing but submissive concubines for their future husband. You were oddly aware of it- had mentioned your doomed fate quite a few times now, and he was struck by how you always laughed, as if your own self being stripped away was a joke. You seemed to do that quite a bit, and he understood it in some twisted way of his own plight.

Even as his mind kept reminding him that you had still grown up being pampered, being spoiled, having others do your work for you- others like him. But conversation had flowed so naturally with you, he found himself showing you more and more of his places of solitude he had found all over the village through his years of misery.

You were also naive in many ways, but still blunt in twice as many. Toji had rolled his eyes as he had asked you what you did with your free time back home- the answer was expected- it always had to be something related to the arts and education, trying to pump the ladies full of culture so that they have something to talk about at the dozen balls and galas they’d be attending every month. However, he had almost choked on the pear he chewed as you had started listing names of erotica after erotica- the titles being lewd enough to let him know just how filthy the content inside would be.

You had burst into laughter at the look on his face, crumbs of fruit left on the side of his mouth making him look even more bizarre. You had reached up your fingers almost instinctively, eyes widening as you realised you had brushed them over the scar he never seemed to talk about. His hand was wrapped around your wrist in less than a second, halting it in place.

He had stared right back at you, breaths heavy, eyes calculating as he loosened the grip around your skin, but not before he lifted your fingers to press against the mark once more. You swore you could have heard the drumming of your heart, and perhaps he did too.

As you brushed away the remaining bit of the sweet fruit, you couldn’t help but notice the flush that had formed on his cheeks, even as he scowled.

𝙀𝙧𝙤𝙨- 𝙥𝙝𝙮𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙧𝙚.

“You’d better be quiet or everyone’s going to know what a naughty little slut you are.”

You’re bent over the table in the storage room that has somehow become your portal of escape from the person you have to pretend to be. It’s not the first time Toji has whispered his filthy administrations into your ear, but he’s never done it quite so close to where anyone could walk in and catch you red handed.

Perhaps it was the fact that his face had turned a sick shade of green at the sight of your suitor tucking your hair behind your ear, your lips twitching upwards at something he said- the same way they had twitched up the night before when he had risen from in between your legs, the taste of yourself flooding your mouth as he had pressed his lips to yours.

This is exactly what you were here for, and despite it, Toji knew who’s name you screamed at the end of every day. So then why did another hand on you ignite a bestial flame inside his chest? Why did he feel the need to pull you away in the dead of the night amongst the crowd of tipsy people, ridding you of the fabric of your dress in one swift movement as he had pressed you against the nearest surface.

You didn't panic for even a moment, you knew it was his hand just from the touch of it, his hot breath against the shell of your ear, and his throbbing member pressed against the curve of your behind as a thumb rubbed circles into your hip bone.

You throw your head back against his muscular chest, craning your neck upwards till you meet his eyes- they soften for the briefest of moments, but the way his tip brushes against your underwear-clad core seems to fill them with raw electricity once more. And you think he’s going to fuck you right there- make you cry out his name for letting another man so close to you. Instead, you gasp as his rough hands grab the flesh of your thighs, kneading the muscle as he spins you around, a smirk being flashed your way as he gets on his knees.

He looks ethereal in that moment. And your breath hitches in your throat as you realise you’ve made a fallen angel bow before you- have tricked him into thinking you can cleanse him of his deeds when the only sinner in this room was you. The way his lips press against the inside of your thighs, nose rubbing against your freshly flowing juices- it’s tantalising, even worse when he takes both your hands in his as they try to find solace in his locks, pinning them to your sides onto the table instead.

He rests his chin right below the apex of your mound, eyes wandering to your face as he sighs, the lazy but smug curve of his lips accentuating the scar you had grown to cherish as much as your own heartbeat.

Your chest is heaving, the sound of your heavy breathing hanging in the silence of the room as you look down at him. If this was to be his ruination- his fall from grace- Toji would die a happy man. The scent of you is lingering right below his nose, his mouth watering alone at the thought, but he cannot seem to pull away his eyes from your beguiling face, bathed in the moonlight. The words seem to escape him before he can think twice of them.

“Do you know how beautiful you are? It’s truly distracting.”

You’ve barely let his words settle in before he presses his thumb right against your wet heat, rubbing small circles onto your sensitive bud. You don’t have a chance to respond as he proceeds to dive into your drenched cunt- his tongue giving kitten-licks to your clit, lapping up any wetness that dares to drip down. You cry out loud as two of his fingers join his mouth’s onslaught, slapping a hand against your own mouth remembering where you were.

The sounds filling the room as he suctions your clit in between his lips are filthy- arms wrapping around and under your thighs, pulling your arousal even closer to his starving mouth, the new angle of your leg being thrown over his shoulder letting his fingers rub against the spongy spot inside your walls that makes the coil in your stomach snap. You’re grinding against his face and he’s letting you, nose pressing onto your clit as he licks up the remnants of your juices, fingers continuing to fuck you through your climax as they quiver and shake around his head.

You’re still coming down from your high, body hanging limp at an awkward angle against the hard wooden surface. His strong burly arms are easily lifting you up, carrying you towards the other side of the room- right towards the glass window. Your eyes widen as you realise the malicious idea that has popped up into your lover’s head, but you’re barely able to put in two words of protest before your feet are hitting the ground, the cold surface making you gasp as your tits are pushed against it. You’re crying out loud as he rubs his thick length against your soppy folds.

“Toji- someone could see us- we shouldn’t- ah!”

You’re cut off as he lines himself up at your entrance, a pleasurable burn down in your core as his girth stretches your walls. It always hurts. No matter how many times he’s made you cum on his fingers and tongue or prepped you up with an ointment- his size is something no one would ever get accustomed to. He knows it too, but tonight he seems to care less about taking it slow and letting you adjust. You honestly cannot care less too, not when you're gushing around him as such when he’s barely even halfway inside.

“Too big Toji- too much.” You’re mewling, hands trying to grip onto something.

“You can take it- fuck just let me-”

He’s hastily moving his fingers across your stomach to rub your pulsing bud, groaning lewdly at the way your cunt flutters around him, letting him move deeper inside of you.

The growl that leaves him as his tip hits your cervix is grossly animalistic, making you moan loudly. His other hand is coming up to grip your jaw, cheek pressed against the glass as he lifts up one of your legs, the angle letting him thrust in and out of your poor drenched hole even deeper. His thrusts turn sloppy, eyes clenched shut above you as the sounds of his balls slapping against your flesh with each thrust fill the room.

You’re both groaning in unison, his strokes getting faster as he feels your walls clamping down on him. You’re choking on a breath as his hand moves to wrap around your throat, the sensation making you moan even louder.

“Call me selfish-”

A sharp smack is delivered against the flesh of your ass causing you to arch your back, the action making your tits press up against the window even more,

“... but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.”

His lips have been suctioned to your neck, your delightful noises being muffled as he’s turning your head to the side till his tongue slips into your mouth. He tightens his grip around your neck and you’re seeing stars, along with the pace of his fingers on your clit and his rapid thrusts making the well in the bottom of your stomach come apart, tears of pleasure slipping your eyes, the feeling of his seed painting your walls making you clench against him amidst your own orgasm.

You barely feel the arms cradling your body, carrying you to set you down on the table. You furrow your brows as Toji strips himself of his shirt, and your eyes widen at the thought of him ravishing you once more so soon. Instead, you shudder as he swipes it against your sex, cleaning up his mess.

The way you beam at him, even in your exhausted state, is honestly worth the ruined shirt- he finds himself thinking as he moves to pick up your dress from the ground. He clicks his tongue as he realises just how much of shreds he had ripped it into in his feral daze. He’s lifting his head to meet your eyes, wondering how he’ll tell you that you have to find a way to get back to your chambers in this state-

“Oh-”

Your saccharine voice is pulling Toji out of his thoughts, surprise forming across his face as you burst into laughter at the sight of what he’s sure has cost twice as much as all the clothes he’d ever owned combined.

“How well do you think I’d fare going out in one of the potato sacks?”

How could he have not smiled right back at you.

𝘿𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙨- 𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙪𝙞𝙡𝙚

Toji had never wanted to rip his own heart out so badly before, inject his blood with ambrosia so that he could be worthy enough for the goddess that was ready to abandon her sanctity- her piece of heaven- for him. He had always known how it would end- in an empty heath of a fire gone out long ago, the only thing keeping it burning now regret and sorrow.

Love could not have sustained you when there was barely enough space to breathe, when there was barely enough food for your kids to live off of. Once the love faded, all that’d remain would be your wish to go back to the past, getting drunk on forgetfulness so that you can survive within the stone cold walls of a house- not a home.

Once again, Toji knew what he had to do- knew he willingly stepped into this hoping to ruin what was supposed to be the prize of his own blood- in order to humiliate them and fulfill his revenge.

He also knew he was the ruined one now as thoughts of you plagued his mind day and night- how his tactful game of cat and mouse had turned into sweet kisses and hushed giggles, and how all he wanted was to find a pit stop in time where his blood did not matter, where the sins of his past did not matter. But despite it all, he knew he couldn’t have dragged you into his own hell, even if you begged him to take you.

He sighs.

You had recited the exact conversation you had with your mother- laid yourself bare before him as you poured out your heart- letting him know that it’d be worth tasting the 7 seeds of evil even if it meant living in hell for half your life.

He had thrown his head back and laughed.

“You really thought our little getaways meant anything more than a fling to me? More than just a decent fuck?”

You stood still, mouth agape at the words that had slipped past his lips, a hand fisting the fabric of his shirt right above his heart, desperately searching for the pulse of the man you’d grown to adore over the past few weeks.

He had looked down at you, the scar you had so tenderly ran your fingers over twitching upwards- in amusement- in laughter, face contorting into one of resentment- of revulsion before he had suddenly stilled.

“Did you forget your place princess? Pretty little head got too lost in a fool’s paradise- did you forget you are one of them- always have been one of them.”

He had spat the last words at you and you wanted to shake your head, wanted to tell him he was utterly wrong, but all you could do was clutch on even tighter to him.

He had put his hand over yours and you had almost begged for him to tell you that this was a sick joke- almost pleaded for him to intertwine his calloused warm hands with yours as he always did- as he had when he made you scream his name, instead you had found yourself gasping at the icy touch as he flicked away your wrist, brows furrowing in repulsion at the contact- at you.

The tears that had slipped through your eyes had only worked to make him throw his head back like a giddy child once more. He had looked up at the sky as if he was mocking the gods in Olympus - look at how I’ve so beautifully wrecked what you created,

while you had stood there looking up at him as if he was your religion, mouthing,

this is not a joke, love me, love me.

𝙊ï𝙯ú𝙨- 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙮, 𝙖𝙣𝙭𝙞𝙚𝙩𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙛

You felt raw. But you did not fight the black hole opening up in your chest. You let it settle into your bones, nurtured the hollowness- ignited it until you felt it turn into flames instead.

You couldn’t have let the ice creep into your heart- it would mean giving up the tears, giving up the feeling of wanting to be swallowed whole by the ground beneath, and that would mean you no longer felt- no longer harboured the only thing that made you feel alive in the cage of bones and flesh your troubled mind resided in.

There was a heavy pain in between the arch of your shoulder blades- like your wings had been clipped and your halo ripped away.

You ignored the scowl that rose to her face, the way she flinched as you leaned over to rest your head in her lap. You couldn’t tell if the wetness on your cheeks was yours or hers- mourning the daughter she was going to lose. You felt your mother’s burning gaze through the back of your head all throughout the journey back home- could already feel the wrath of your father and the nasty bruises that were to come as her hand came down to rest on your head.

You instead found yourself being locked away immediately- not a single word from anyone. The only time your door opened was for a maid to serve you your half portioned meals. Not like you had an appetite or a will to do anything else.

Days passed by, perhaps weeks or months, and you counted the scattered marks on the wall beside your bed like you had done once with the freckles across his back, and you waited- for what? You weren’t quite sure yourself. You waited and waited until the day your door opened, but it wasn’t the regular pitter patter of steps of the maid who served the food.

Instead, your eyes met the raging ones of the head of your clan, and for the first time in days, an icy shiver creeped up your spine.

----

The torment you’re put through is much worse than expected. You were well aware you were to be disgraced, to be stripped of your title, but somehow the gaze of your own friends and family avoiding your beaten bloody form and ignoring your whimpers and cries of agony was what had stung the most.

The world seemed to be upside down, fading in and out of hues of colour and greys and blinding lights. You could barely feel the blood dripping down the back of your head and into your shirt as your gaze managed to remain focused on the window outside of the rattling carriage you lay in, panic rising in your chest as you recognised the familiar scenery.

You fought your hardest to stay awake, but you lost to the increasingly heavy pressure against your head, hoping your blood would run dry before you had to face the hell you were being thrown into. As your head lolled to the side, you wondered if satiating the hunger within you was worth the price you were paying- if this was what happened to every soul that had brought the god of the dead to his knees, wondered if you were the first to do so- wondered if you’d be the last.

𝙃𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙨- 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙙, 𝙜𝙤𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙩

Toji had left the clan- made a living of his own by doing what he did best, by doing what he was made to- destroying and causing wreckage till there was no piece of his soul left to be salvaged.

He had avoided news about you like the plague, and had still ended up finding out that you were locked away back at your home from the gossiping servants. He had chuckled bitterly, what had he been expecting? He was right after all, you'd never have to face any consequences in life, and soon this whole scandal would be swept under the rug and you would be well on your way to marrying another wealthy brat, having filthy little kids with him who’d have the same luxuries in life and-

Toji found his heart dropping, the axe along with the freshly chopped wood he carried thumping down against the forest floor as he reached the entrance of the wooden cabin he had taken residence in. He saw the pool of blood first- the familiar mop of hair later.

No-

He must be hallucinating-

But he still found himself moving out of his own accord, gathering the crumpled figure into his arms, feeling a thick fluid drip down his skin- stain through his shirt as he tried to pick you up. A chill ran down his spine as he realised what those savages had done for your body to resist even in an unconscious state-

And that’s when his eyes slid to the nails in the ground, the sharp metal going right through the flesh of your fingertips, a note pinned to your abdomen in between your shredded dirtied clothes-

“We don’t want the gross wreckage of your perverse ruination. Keep the whore since you wanted her so much.”

A sea of rage rose in the back of Toji’s mind but it stilled, the vicerating waves crashing against the shore that was the barely noticeable action of your chest heaving. He held back what was a choked sob, mind barely sane as he took out the nails as gently as possible- a man so familiar with death yet utterly horrified by it as he counted your laboured breaths, thanked every deity out in the universe for every huff of air that he could feel against his chest as he carried you inside.

—

How do you kill a god?

You had asked him once. He had raised his brow, ruffling your hair before pushing you down onto the bed once more, intent on at least letting you know how you got to heaven.

How do you kill a god?

It now echoed in his mind as he watched your broken body lay on his bed, having done everything he could have to fix you up even though he feared there would be wounds more than just the physical ones when you gained consciousness- if you gained consciousness.

How do you kill a god?

Pit him against another god. Let him stare at his own reflection and see all his glorious flaws until he’s falling to his knees, begging for the taste of ichor to be washed out from his mouth, begging to be stripped of his damned divinity- because the curse of immortality is a heavier burden to carry than the curse of mundane suffering- because it’s easier to drown in a sea full of blood than live with it staining your hands.

𝘼𝙥𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙚- 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚, 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣.

“How do you kill a god?” You had asked him once.

Afterwards, you had lain awake late into the night as he had given you a taste of his own holiness, bare in his arms as he had muttered the words into your hair, barely a whisper as they escaped past his bleeding lips,

How do you become a god?

The burning light attacked your eyes and you flinched loud enough for your own ears to ring, and then flinched even harder as the hot searing pain spread through your body, especially across the tips of your bandage covered fingers. You tried to use your voice but your throat was like a desert and your own harsh whisper scraped against your sensitive ears.

All you could do was stare up at the unfamiliar ceiling, lying numb, waiting for your saviour- or perhaps your torturer to come.

All had gone still once the door opened, your gaze falling onto the familiar hands that carried a bowl of water and about a dozen different small bottles in a basket. You stared through him, through his wide blown eyes and through the sigh of relief that left his mouth as he rushed towards you.

How do you become a god?

There was much more you had wanted to tell your mother. You had told her you were sick of pretending, sick of being the goddess of spring when everything you touched died in your hands- how every beam of light you emitted was a stolen one from another soul. Perhaps, you had always craved pomegranates and death - had always willingly walked into the darkness with a smile and open arms.

How do you become a god?

You let him plead and writhe to have a taste of your lips - make him believe it is his only salvation. And right when his lips meet yours, you dig your teeth in deep and not let go, even as his fingers grip the column of your throat and his growls rumble inside your mouth. You let the trail of crimson coat your tongue and feel his tears burn your flesh- you make him taste your blood and take his throne.

—

He says your name like it’s a prayer and you want to rip out his heart.

Instead, you turn your head towards the wall opposite to where he stands, clenching your eyes shut, hoping the next time you wake up it won’t be here.

Still, you can hear his voice. Every single day of every waking moment- even as you sleep- even as you wake up in cold sweat haunted by the bittersweet melody of his laughter the day he crushed your heart in two, or the time your own blood nailed you down into the earth.

But most of all, you hate it when you can hear the gruffness of his voice, still heavy from sleep as you let him cradle your head, shushing you- letting you know it was just a nightmare- but it was a nightmare you had lived through- a nightmare he had put you through.

Not that he didn’t acknowledge it equally as much. It was odd- almost laughable the way he was so desperate to bring even just a flicker of the light back inside your eyes, breaking free from his stoic and tight lipped demeanour to whisper grossly sweet nothings into your hair.

He had explained his regrets the first few days that you had refused to even look at him, simply staring at the wall as he stripped you of your clothes to redo your bandages, not even the barest of reaction visible across your face. He had caused this.

The first words you had muttered to him weren’t of hatred or anger or sadness- they were said into the heavy air, late into the hours before dusk at a point in time where your bones still couldn't support the burden of your body,

“I need to pee.”

You had said it through gritted teeth, had scowled throughout the process of him picking you up and carrying you into the bathroom, giving you privacy to do your business.

The second time you had spoken to him was right after and it had somehow dented itself much deeper than he had expected it to, even as it was all he had been preparing himself for in the past few days,

“I hate you.”

You had said it with no anger, no poison in your words- had simply stated it like it was a mere fact.

“I know.”

—

It was weeks later and you seemed to have fallen into a strange routine.

He’d go out to do his filthy work, come back bathed in blood and dirt, even as he washed himself off outside thinking he was sly with it. You’d pretend not to notice as you’d cook for yourself, sometimes leaving bits behind as leftovers even if you had purposely spilled the extra bit of rice- had regretted it as soon as you had realised you had done it because he hadn’t had dinner in three days.

Perhaps it was the irony of the situation, and maybe even the cold winter air creeping into your bones that let him move from simply holding you when you woke from your nightmares- to him warming your bed at night even when you dreamed of nothing but the scar beside his lip.

Still, you let him know you despised him every night that he pulled your body against his chest and every morning that he rubbed his warm hands up and down your arms. Even as you felt yourself leaning into his touch, felt your heart softening at how he’d mutter apologies into your hair while he thought you were asleep, how he’d pay attention to the foods you took more of and made sure to get twice the amount next time, how he’d shred his own shirts to provide you with cloth for when you got your monthly cycles. Yet, you couldn’t find any other words to say to him.

𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙥𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙚- 𝙌𝙪𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙐𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙛𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙨, 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝, 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

You had woken up alone as you did on most mornings, grateful that you wouldn’t have to face the shame that came with having your limbs tangled with him. The day was like any other yet different, perhaps it was the monotonous dread of living a life such as this- of having to live at all after being stripped of everything you had called yours.

You had somehow ended up taking steps outside of the wooden door, outside of the small garden the burly man used to grow his own vegetables, and even farther outside the vines and shrubs that kept the cabin hidden from any unwanted visitors.

You had walked and walked till your feet carried you to the edge of the world, a never ending fall down below from where you stared at, the sound of water flowing signalling the presence of a river running deep under the steep cliff.

You had stopped walking, the silence of the forest being the only noise to have outdone the heavy emptiness in your heart in months. And you simply continued to stand there, bare feet digging into the dirt and grass and stone, barely realising when the light faded away and darkness took over. Hadn’t it always been like this?

It had taken no more than two rounds of the house and the trail of footsteps in the garden out back for Toji to realise you had left. His heart had dropped into his chest as he had followed the dents of your feet in the ground, careful not to step on them as his mind bitterly reminded him that it may be the last of what’s left of you by now.

He knew where the trail you had walked along led- had himself sat on the edge of it once, legs dangling off as he his mind had replayed the memory of your glossy eyes and crestfallen face when he had hit you with those fatal words months ago. Toji’s breath hitches in his throat, hands shaking as he pulls away the last branch blocking the view of the edge of the cliff.

His feet are moving faster than his mind can think as he all but falls onto his knees, clutching your abdomen as if you’d disappear forever if he let you go now. You turn around in his arms, a look of confusion on your face, your eyes still as hollow as a void but all he cares about right now is the steady thumping he can feel with his chest pressed to yours. He’s clenching his eyes shut, taking a deep breath before he’s sliding his hand into yours. You don’t protest- letting him lead you back into the warm safety of his house and he’s too relieved to consider whether your lack of resistance is a good thing or not.

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed and you can hear him ruffling through something in the bathroom, door ajar, eyes glancing towards you every two seconds as if he’s expecting you to bolt out the door any second now. For once, you don’t want to stare at the wall as he walks towards you, getting down on his knees- making a blow of nostalgia hit you right in the gut. But your eyes remain fixed at the top of his head, at the dark locks that had grown out much more since the last time you had let yourself gaze at him.

You only realise what he’s been doing as you notice the bowl of water kept on the floor, hands gently lifting up your dirty feet, cleaning them of the mud and the blood from small scrapes. He’s lifting up your legs onto the bed once he’s done, adjusting your pillow as a gesture for you to lay down. He’s blowing out the lamps and soon enough you feel the mattress dip, his arms engulfing you tighter than ever before. You can feel the slight tremble in them and you feel guilty for the small pinch in your chest. You wait for his breathing to steady, head to fall limp into the crook of your neck before you roll over towards him in the dark, eyes set on the small crinkle between his forehead and brow.

The warm hand that cups Toji’s cheek has him convinced that he may have lost his mind. Opening his eyes, he knows for sure that you have. Especially as you slide your other hand into his, pulling it till it’s placed onto the crest between your collarbone and chest, adjusting it a little more towards the left. Toji’s staring intently at you, wondering if this is your way of telling him that you’re still alive- that even though you’ve been cursed and damned to living in this hell, your heart still beats- it still fights.

Toji bares his own emotions through a gesture- pulling the small hand that holds his to the apex between his upper ribs- pressing it till your fingers feel like they might just pass through his flesh. He hopes you know that if he could, he’d snap each one of his ribs open so that you can reach inside and press the palm of your hand against his beating heart, rip it right out of his body and spit inside the hollow space of his ribs with contempt- even then he’d survive on your hatred alone if it means surviving with you for the rest of his life.

“I don’t hate you.”

The words are whispered in the dead of the night with no emotion, no trace of forgiveness or affection- simply stated as if they are common knowledge.

The soft lips coming down on his own have his mind spinning. He realises what it is you wish for- to be able to live once again as a human, to feel once again as a mortal- he can almost almost hear you saying the words into his mouth as your fist bunches up the fabric of his shirt.

“I’m tired of being a god.”

He can feel his own sentiment being passed right through as his hands slide under the cloth of his shirt that you wore, exploring the expanse of your reverenced skin, mouthing his response against your cupid’s bow.

“I’ll worship you even after you fall from grace.”

And he does, pulling himself up on arms above you, dipping his fingers into your soaking sex, making quick work of ridding you and himself of your clothes. He’s tucking your legs against your chest, feet dangling over his broad shoulders as he comes forward to meet your lips. He’s pulling away and you’re mewling at the loss of contact- the loss of his taste.

“Do you want this? Do you want-” He takes a deep breath, forehead coming forward to press against yours till your noses brush against each other, “...me?”

Your response comes in the form of sliding your hands to the back of his head, pulling him forward till his lips crash against yours once more- bucking your hips up till the tip of his massive girth is brushing against your heat. He doesn’t miss the moan that escapes you, eagerly kissing you back, moving to litter a plethora of kisses against your jaw- your neck- your collarbone. When he comes back up to your face, he’s well aware of the effect he’s had on you- the want in your eyes as you lift your hips against his once more, a small plea leaving your mouth.

The need that comes over him is animalistic as he moves a hand down to position himself before sliding into your soppy hole, he swears he can see stars with how hungrily you swallow him in. You’re gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he strokes your insides so languidly. Your faces are close enough for you to feel his breath on your mouth, to feel the fall of the hot droplets on your cheeks, your own tears of grief- of freedom- of a love gone to waste so long ago combining as he continues to thrust in and out of you deeply.

He’s dipping his head and the tears are being kissed away as his hand moves down to play with your over sensitive bud. You can't stop peppering kisses against his lips, moaning his name in his ear as he hits a particular spot inside you. He can feel you getting closer with how your breaths get deeper, fingers moving faster, strokes getting sloppier.

You feel the tight coil in your stomach start to unravel, and all it takes is for him to lower his head and suction his lips around one of your nipples for you to come apart underneath him. He’s reaching his own arousal soon after, pulling out to spray his seed onto your stomach. He all but collapses on top of you, rolling over to his side once he catches his breath, another hitching in his throat as he finds you crawling onto his lap, legs straddling his waist as you bury your face into his naked chest.

This is what being a god feels like. The taste of wine coating your tongue and the way his lips meld with yours- swallow you whole and then spit you out. You reach for him again in the dark, his chest panting against yours as the moonlight cascading from the window hits his face. You rest your chin against the centre of his chest, looking up at him with droopy eyes, his own stare right back at you- filled with tenderness and affection.

“No one will ever hurt you again, I promise.”

His voice is gruff and heavy, but carries a sincerity warm enough to send tingles down your back. You can’t quite place the look on his face, it's determined- pointed. You can feel the unravelling of the violence beneath his skin as his hand comes to cradle your jaw, and you wonder just what kind of monsters the god of the underworld plans to unleash.

His hand moves to caress the back of your head, adoration-filled eyes raking over your still panting figure. He presses his lips to your temple and says your name like a prayer. It all floods in- the pain- the love- the sorrow- the joy- you’re sobbing and he’s holding you like he has time and again. Only this time, he finds himself awestruck by the spark of ember that comes alive in your eyes, even if just for a second, he knows you’re going to be fine.

The god of the dead had bowed before you, offered you his crown, his throne- would have ripped off the flesh from his own back and handed it to you without any hesitation if only you asked.

You were the goddess of spring and everyone had loved your life and light, but who except him had acknowledged the death and destruction that came along- had reached out their hands into the rotten parts of your flesh and kissed every bruise and scar?

This was Toji Fushiguro’s life now, coming back home to his precious darling each day- the only burst of spring in his everlasting winter, the only ray of light in his world swallowed by darkness.

Tonight, as you lay on him bare-bodied and covered in sweat from your previous feat, he finds you asking him about the season, about how far the harvest festival was. He’s confused at your sudden curiosity but answers you nonetheless, telling you it’s in a fortnight. He finds himself asking why.

“Every single member of our blood attends the festival- they had waited for it while they kept me away.”

It’s the first time you’re talking about the incident and he can feel you quiver in his arms. It makes his blood boil, and he finds himself protectively pulling you even closer into him.

“...they had wanted each and every single one of them to get a chance to cut through my skin.”

That’s all you say before falling asleep, the tears on Toji’s chest making a storm of anger rage inside his mind.

It’s a fortnight later and Toji watches the red and orange hues of the flames making your face glow brighter than the sun.

You’re standing there hand-in-hand with him, looking over the half wrecked ruins of the village, the screams of the people you had grown up with- who had taken no less than a second to turn their backs on you- who had left you to die- now echoing in your ears. Right on the edge of the hilltop you stand on, you see a small figure running towards the slope, clothes burnt, high pitched sobs filling the air as it succumbs to the heat that had spread through it’s bones.

She must’ve been eight or nine years old judging from her size and half burnt frills of the frock she wore. You know she’s at peace, much like the many others who would’ve faced nothing but agonising hardships being raised in the hands of your cruel persecutors- all of whom lay as nothing but bones and ash and dust now.

Toji’s worried that he’ll find the same emptiness he’s spent months breaking through as he glances over at your face. Instead, there’s a fire being reflected in your eyes, a sadistically deliciously smile stretched across your supple cheeks. He finds his own lips curving as he grips your jaw to turn your head and press his lips to yours, the screams and shouts of your monsters merely anything but white noise as your fingers come to tangle in his hair.

After all, Hades may have been the god of the dead, but it was Persephone’s wrath which brought upon the destruction.

credit- prompt list

taglist-@captainmads2092 @mahitochan @nakachuchu @bakugohoex @jotazinha @osmosly @avasparks @p-each-y-day @lilshortcakess @saturnmoon @deary-darling @menaintshit23 @tobidabio @sukuna5slut @instantnuma @kuroshitsujjiii @half-baked-biscuit @duskamethyst @sukumen @radishfern

#jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk smut #jjk tw #jjk angst #jjk hcs #toji angst #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #toji fluff #gojo smut #sukuna smut #hades persephone retelling

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plus-size-reader · 4 years ago

Text

Why

Cato Hadley x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2108 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Reader is a tribute for the Hunger Games, no one thinks she’s going to make it until Cato steps in. The one thing you don’t understand is, Why does he care?

Updated version of “Why Does He Care” an old fan favorite.

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They knew you wouldn’t win.

It hadn’t even registered as a possibility in most of their minds, but that didn’t matter all that much.

All the game makers cared about was that you made a show of it, and if you could, got stabbed in view of one of the thousands of cameras surrounding the arena.

That was all you had to do.

You weren’t the strongest, the fastest, or the smartest that your district had to offer and everyone seemed to have already come to terms with the fact that you would be leaving the arena in a body bag.

They just didn’t see how a woman of your status and stature could ever hope to compete with others in the games. Against the Careers, a group of highly trained young people whose lives revolved around being able to win, you would surely meet your end.

However, you weren’t going to just accept defeat right off the bat.

Even if you didn’t win, you were going to put up one hell of a fight once that canon went off. You owed that to your family, and your district, and yourself.

No one in their right mind wanted to participate in the Hunger Games,and you certainly didn’t want to either, but you had been chosen to represent your district and you weren’t going to shy away from the responsibility.

At the very least, you had to try.

If nothing else, the fact that no one believed in you could serve as an extra push, the push you would need to take down as many other tributes as possible in the process.

You knew that you could do that.

Though, that fire did sort of dull as soon as you walked into the large training room, surrounded by all the other tributes from all the other districts. Once you got a look at them up close, you were less sure of yourself than you had ever been.

How quickly it had all changed.

From the moment you walked into that room, which was more of a cell of brushed aluminum and cool steel, you were forced to recon with the reality of the situation.

This was happening.

You were going to die.

The way in which you would die wasn’t something you were all that fond of considering, but as best you could tell, the Career pack would be to blame.

Stories of what they were capable of, training tirelessly to volunteer for their games and slaughter the competition were widespread all over Panem but you couldn’t have imagined how intimidating they were in real life.

Each one of them was a skilled, and accurate, death machine and you had no chance of surviving an altercation with even the weakest among them, who you had ultimately decided was Glimmer.

She was talented and smart but lacked the determination that the others had.

Even in her case though, you could see what they always said about the Careers. They were raised to believe there was no other point to their lives other than to win the Hunger Games.

If they didn’t win, they weren’t worth anything, not that it would matter. If they didn’t win, they would end up just the same as all the rest of you, in a shallow grave somewhere.

That was just how it was.

You did your best to keep to yourself at first, not wanting to elicit any more violence than absolutely necessary right off the bad. It was no secret to you that the other tributes didn’t take you seriously.

The last thing you wanted was for them to try and prove themselves at your expense before you were out in that arena.

Unfortunately, the other tributes, namely the Careers, had already made up their minds. In the few days that you had been training, they had been making fun of you the entire time.

For them, it was one big joke.

When they looked at you, it was clear that all they saw was the first person they were going to stick their swords into. They didn’t take you seriously at all and at this point, you weren’t even sure if you blamed them.

Each time you threw a punch or swung your axe at a target, they hooted and hollered from their place on the sidelines and called you out for each imperfection they saw in your maneuvers, and they weren’t wrong.

You had no idea what you were doing.

This was all new for you, because where you were from, hand to hand combat just wasn’t something you would have ever come across. Before now, you hadn’t even seen most of the things in front of you here.

You were out of your element.

By the end of the first week, you hadn’t even begun to make any progress. However, there was one thing that had changed and you couldn’t even pinpoint when or why it had happened.

At some point, Cato had stopped criticizing you in the same way his compatriots were.

You weren’t sure why he would even bother, but seeing as you didn’t really talk to him, you couldn’t ask. It was much easier to just be silently grateful for the break, and try to focus on what you were doing.

While it wasn’t looking good to start, you didn’t want to sabotage your chances of survival with any more wasted time.

The other Careers had noticed the change in him too, but not one of them dared to comment on it, even if it didn’t make any sense to them. The anger that they would risk in doing so just wouldn’t be worth getting answers.

Instead, they let him do whatever it was he was doing, waving it off as some kind of tactical maneuver. He knew what he was doing, and it wasn’t their place to ask too many questions and get him off his game.

When Cato first headed in your direction, closing the vast distance between you on the training floor, you assumed that he was intent on proving to you just how out of place you were here.

...But that couldn't have been farther from the truth.

In truth, what Cato was doing was far from a tactical measure. More than anything, he just couldn’t bring himself to make fun of you anymore.

He didn’t think that your weight alone was enough to warrant the constant abuse you were suffering.

Besides, It was clear that you were putting in a lot of work to get better, which was more than most of the other tributes were doing. You weren’t going to take this lying down, which he could respect.

From the looks of it, your technique just needed some polishing, and you would be just as good a fighter as anyone here, with the exception of himself.

“You need to strike higher” he prompted, coming out of nowhere and nearly shocking you out of your fighting stance. You had been so focused that you didn’t even hear him approach.

Still, it didn’t occur to you that he might have been trying to help at first. After all this time, he didn’t strike you as the friendly, just trying to help type. He was much more of the scowl and stab sort of person.

You couldn’t be blamed for feeling that way.

“Strike higher” he repeated, closing the space between you to wrap his arm around your frame, moving your axe in the exact way he had been telling you to do.

There was nothing snide or rude in his tone, but you couldn’t focus on that.

All you could think about were his strong hands on your body, and the clear concern he had for whatever in the world he could have wanted from you.

You tensed under his touch, desperately trying to decipher how you had gotten to this point or what you were supposed to do now that you were here.

There was nothing particularly romantic about his touch, which you understood, but it was still foreign to be on the receiving end of. No one had ever held you like this, under any circumstances.

“Hit here, not here” he muttered, his voice far too close to your ear this time, forcing a breath from your lungs you weren’t aware you’d trapped there. He moved the axe, and your arm attached to it, to demonstrate what he meant.

...And as much as you hated to admit it, he was right.

When he moved his arms, in succession with his words, he hit the target at jugular height, instead of in the trunk where you had been aiming.

It was a much better hit than you had been landing all day, showing how much more experience he had with this than you.

“Thanks” you muttered, glancing at him quickly, desperately hoping that he wouldn’t look at you but you wouldn’t have been so lucky.

Cato looked down just at the same moment as you turned your head to take in his profile.

You expected him to say something about it but he offered nothing, content to just stare back down at you with a slight smirk on his face.

“Somebody bigger than you is going to be able to push back if you aim here” he explained finally, lightly resting the palm of his right hand against your abdomen where you’d been aiming before.

It made sense, of course.

“If you aim at the weakest part, it doesn’t matter how much stronger an opponent is” he hummed, this time bringing that same hand up to where your throat was, not missing the way you gulped under his touch.

“And you can’t kill anyone aiming at their ankles” he laughed, shrugging at that, as if he shouldn’t have to explain that part to you. Even someone who knew nothing about this wasn’t going to be shocked at that.

Cato just didn’t want you to think that he was playing some sort of sick game with you. He was really trying to help, even if that wasn’t really in his nature.

Never in his life had Cato cared about anyone, or been drawn to another person like he was with you.

His entire life was all about winning the games, and there was nothing more than that.

That was all he’d ever cared about.

...But for some reason, making sure that you survived this whole thing was becoming really important to him.

There was just something about you that he couldn’t put his finger on, but whatever it was, he didn’t have all that much time to figure it out. This whole thing was happening, whether he wanted it to or not.

The best thing he could do for you was prepare you to survive, with or without him.

“Oh, I couldn’t kill anyone” you hummed, doing your very best to be as nonchalant about it as you could. You were doing your best to figure out how to protect yourself out there but you had already made you mind up on that front.

You weren’t going to kill anyone.

It was something you had decided on before you even knew your name had been drawn the day of the reaping, but this was new information for Cato.

New information that almost shocked him into silence.

Cato had always known that he would need to kill someone, at some point. It was never a question in his mind, or something that even had any effect on him. It was part of his life, and to hear that someone else had never even considered it was new for him.

If you didn’t kill anyone the entire time you were in the arena, you would die.

You had to know that.

Surely you knew that.

“If you don’t, you’re going to die” he spoke, the words leaving his lips before he even had time to react. There was a finality to it, something you hadn’t seen coming, and at first, you thought it may have been a joke.

The two of you really didn’t know each other all that well, or at all, so making jokes seemed sort of strange but it wasn’t necessarily something that upset you.

You were just shocked at his urgency.

This really was something that was bothering him, but there was one thing that was still bothering you. This was the first time you had ever spoken to him in your life, and as flattered as you were that he cared about what happened to you, it didn’t make any sense.

Why did he care about someone like you?

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nastybuckybarnes · 3 years ago

Text

Hoist The Colours - 3/3

Pairing: Pirate!Bucky X SeaGoddess!Reader

Summary: An encounter with the man you used to love lands you and your new crew in peril, stuck on a ship with the people responsible for binding you. And what they have planned for you is far worse than what you’d first imagined.

Warnings: Language, Angst, Fluff, Violence, Injuries, Death,

Word Count: 2.2K

A/n: Oof another thing is finished. I’m gonna start actually finishing stuff but Idk what to write I’m sad that my stuff is ending :( But I hope you enjoy this!

~*~

The door to your cell gets wrenched open, pulling you from your light sleep.

“You!” Rumlow snarls, grabbing you by the throat and lifting you to your feet.

“Where have they taken my prisoners?” You furrow your brows, yanking out of his grip.

“How am I supposed to know? I was left behind.” He grinds his teeth together and grabs your bicep, dragging you out of your cell and onto the main deck.

The clouds are dark and gloomy, the waters wild and violent, but not by your doing.

“You must’ve helped them, that other witch too! So tell me, how did you do it?” He shoves you and you gasp, tumbling onto the wet wood of the deck.

“How could I have helped them? You have me chained up like a dog!” You spit, glaring up at him. He stoops down to your level, grabbing your face harshly.

“You will watch your tongue or you will lose it. You do not need your voice to do my bidding.” He shoves you back down and you bite back a yelp of pain.

The sky darkens further, thunder booming and clouds rolling in.

“I will never do your bidding!” You snarl, a flash of lightning punctuating your words.

Rumlow’s eyes widen for a moment, and then he’s got his sword pointed at you, the tip just brushing your throat.

“On your feet, witch!” You obey, standing up with your chin held high.

“You will do my bidding, or you will join all those who you have sent to the depths. It is your choice.” You follow his gaze over your shoulder to where the plank is being extended over the raging ocean.

You look back at him, jaw set, and he knows you’ve made your decision.

The wind whips around your hair as he walks you to the plank, his sword digging into your back just hard enough to cause discomfort, but not pain, not yet.

You carefully step onto the plank, taking deep breaths of the salty air as the water rages beneath you.

“I will give you one last chance, wench. I will spare your life, all you need do is swear your powers to me. You’ll have the sea back in your grasp, the power to do what you please. You need only do so at my side.”

Raindrops splatter against your face, just gently at first, until you’re consumed in an intense storm, the water pelting down against you.

“You’ve forgotten, Captain, that you are not sending me to the depths,” you look over your shoulder at him with a small smile, “you are sending me home.”

You look down at the water, preparing yourself for the cool embrace, when a particularly harsh wave rocks against the ship, sending you stumbling back a step.

A wave rises up over the ship, a spiral of green swirling inside of it and for a moment you think that you’ve already died.

The wave crashes against the ship, sending the men falling and scrambling, submerging the deck for a moment.

But you stay rooted in place, the familiar green hue just touching your fingertips, the ends of your hair, then slowly becoming part of you once more.

You hear the men shouting and coughing, feel Rumlow’s sword pressed against your back once again, but you only turn around to face him.

The storm continues, the waves fighting the ship, and you cock your head to the side, sending a gust of wind towards the man threatening you. He stumbles back, eyes wide with fear.

“H-how do you...” You take slow steps towards him, waving your hand behind you as his crew-mates try to run at you. The wind pushes them back, keeping them a safe distance from you and the captain.

“You will give me answers and you will give them to me now!” You hiss, glaring daggers at him.

“Whatever it is that you wish to know, I will tell you. Just please, spare my life.”

You watch him for a long moment, fighting tears as the question bubbles out of you.

“Why? Why did he do it?”

Rumlow only shakes his head, on his knees and ready to beg for mercy.

“’twas me... I caused him to do it. With the help of a siren for the price of his left arm, I got the binding spell from him. He knew not what he was doing, though he gave the information.” You let out a shaky breath, a weight lifted off of your shoulders.

“All this time I had thought it was he who betrayed me... but it wasn’t.” You turn your gaze to him, eyes glowing green with the influx of power.

“It was you. You and your greed.” He shakes his head and scrambles back desperately.

You step aside as a sword comes down right where you were standing, and Rumlow uses your momentary distraction to sprint away.

“Kill her! Kill the Witch!” He shouts, grabbing his own sword.

You shake your head, the wind whipping strong enough to keep them away.

A nagging in your mind stops you for a moment, and a smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

“The King and his men stole the queen from her bed... and bound her in her bones.” Your voice travels on the wind.

“The seas be ours, and by the powers, where we will, we’ll roam.”

“Captain! We’ve got a ship coming up starboard!” A man shouts, pointing his sword at the familiar ship.

“They’re upon us! Battle stations!” The men scramble to their stations, trying to get prepared as the ship approaches.

“Yo ho, all hands, hoist the colours high. Heave ho, thieves and beggars, never shall we die.” The voices ring out to you clear as day, responding to the call.

It’s only a matter of moments before canons start firing and men start boarding the ship, swords clashing and guns firing.

Your eyes scan the crowd, freezing on a man approaching you. You simply look at him and he crumples to the ground, grabbing at his throat.

“Rumlow!” You shout, following your instincts up to the foredeck and finding the captain cowering, exactly how you thought he would.

“You want to throw me overboard, captain?” You sneer his title, taking another step towards him. He stumbles back, slipping on the wet wood and scrambling away from you and towards the main deck.

“You forget that I am the sea and all things in it.”

The rain pelts down on you and the wind whips your hair around your face wildly, your eyes glowing green with the force of your power.

At that moment, you look every bit the sea goddess that the stories described. And today, you’re planning on being just as cruel.

“You stripped me of my purpose, my power. Bound me to my form and took away my reason for existence! You sacrificed the man I love for your own greedy gain. What do you have to say for yourself?” Your powers protect you from the fighting around you, the man before you protected as well.

No one will take your vengeance from you.

“I’m sorry!” He cries, slipping back further.

You shake your head and grab him by the front of his tunic, tossing his sword aside and glaring into his eyes.

“No, you’re not. Not yet. But you will be, that I promise you.”

You cock your head to the side, your free hand coming up, fingers flexed.

The water on the deck swirls around your ankles, clawing up the man before you.

“You’ve never had your purpose taken from you because a man like you has no purpose.” You twist your wrist, controlling the water around you and watch in satisfaction as his eyes widen, the water rising up over his face.

“So what else can I take, but your life?” You ask rhetorically, watching as the water trickles into his mouth and nose, slowly at first, then picking up speed.

He tries to claw at you, but his hands can’t reach you. His struggles are futile, though that doesn’t stop him.

You steal the life away from him, exactly the way he did to you.

He collapses on the ground, his body convulsing for a moment before falling still, death embracing him.

You take a deep breath, embracing your freedom, then slowly turn around.

You’re instantly meet with piercing blue eyes staring at you from across the ship. His chest is heaving and he’s squinting through the downpour, but his eyes are on you.

You walk over to him, the rain lessening with each step you take until you’re right in front of him.

The wind dies down and the ocean becomes calm. The fighting around you draws to a sombre end, victory on the tip of your tongue.

His sword clatters to the ground, his hands finding yours ever so gently, his eyes filled with so many emotions.

“Gentlemen, the ship is ours!” Steve shouts, a smile on his face. You turn around, pulling Bucky’s arms around your waist as you watch the crew celebrate their success.

Your eyes find Wanda’s and Tony’s through the crowd, both of them smiling brightly up at you.

The two crews celebrate, Pirates and Kingsmen, and you can’t help but smile at them.

“Back to the ship! We’ve gotten what we came for. The King can enjoy plundering Rumlow’s ship. I trust that will keep him off of our back for a while, yes?” Steve looks at Tony pointedly and the brunet nods.

You step out of your lover’s arms and walk down to the two men, one hand gently finding Tony’s forearm.

“I owe you a debt, Tony. One I fear I may never be able to repay.” He shakes his head, taking your hands gently in his and smiling at you.

“You’ve no debt to be paid. But if you feel so inclined, could you maybe hold back any storms for the next day or so? I’d like a chance to dry my clothes.” You giggle and nod, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you, for all that you’ve done for myself and Wanda.” He gives you a tender smile and nods.

“It’s what I wish had been done for my mother.” He sniffles then straightens up.

“Now come on, men. It’s time we return to the King!” His crew-mates start busying themselves quickly.

“Alright lads, back to the ship!” Steve calls, leading his own crew members to their ship.

You watch as everyone eagerly crosses, smiling encouragingly at Wanda. She crosses swiftly, her eyes drawing to the helmsman for a moment.

“Are you ready?” A soft voice asks from behind you. You take a breath then nod, looking over at him.

“Yes.”

The two of you cross back to his ship, the ship almost cooing at you as soon as your feet hit the deck. You can’t fight the smile the spreads on your face at being back, and you don’t try to.

“It’s good to have you back,” Steve says, giving you a nod. You do the same, sighing happily.

“It’s good to be back, Steve.” Bucky takes your hand then and tugs you gently towards his quarters.

The door closes softly behind you and you take a moment to reacquaint yourself with the room.

You can feel his eyes on you, the tension palpable but not unpleasant.

Without looking at him, you speak.

“Could you help me out of my gown? It’s far too heavy.” He walks towards you, untying the back and watching as the fabric slides down your body, leaving you only in your white slip.

His hands hesitantly trail over your skin, one cold and one hot and the contrast is so delicious.

You close your eyes and lean into his touch, head falling to the side as he presses soft kisses to your neck.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, my love,” he whispers against your skin, spinning you around to face him.

You gaze up at him lovingly, one hand coming up to cup his jaw.

“Show me,” you whisper, leaning up to gently brush your lips over his.

“Show me how much you missed me. Give me a reason to clear the skies and calm the seas. Make me give us good wind and easy sail. Prove to me that you’re still worthy of my mercy.”

He brings your hand to his mouth, kissing each one of your fingers then smiling.

“I’ll never truly be worthy of your mercy. But I am more than willing to both swear and prove my loyalty to you. I will give myself over to you; body, heart, mind, and soul.”

You look up at him tenderly, cupping his cheek gently.

“I will sail to the ends of the Earth for you, fight the gods if I need to. Anything to keep you in my arms.”

“My heart belongs to you, James. And never will it belong to anyone else.”

#pirate #pirate AU #pirate!bucky #pirate!bucky x reader #Pirate!bucky x sea goddess!reader #bucky x sea!goddess!reader #pirate!bucky x goddess!reader #bucky x goddess!reader #pirate!bucky x seagoddess!reader

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jae-canikeepyou · 4 years ago

Text

| into you | j.jh

pair: jaehyun x fem!reader

word count: 7.7k+

summary: as the uni campus’ social butterfly, it’s a given you have a lot of friends, invited to almost all gatherings and all adore you. for the latter, jaehyun does too. he’s so into you and likes how you’re his happy place. or; jaehyun— an unsocial, often misunderstood person, finds his behaviour different with you and perhaps wants to keep you for himself, not anyone else.

genre: fluff + elite!au

a/n: i’m back after a while since i’ve been so so busy! this is not proofread again and i’m sorry if there are any grammar mistakes down there :> this is not canon with “letting go” scenario in case there’s any similarities with the characters. hehe anyway i hope you all enjoy reading! ♡ ~j.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

seated at the front row in the amphitheatre-shaped lecture hall, jaehyun frustratingly put his hood back on to hide himself from those who were staring from all around. they were definitely whispering about him, hands by their lips to conceal their voices in case he heard them. he hated this much attention, all because he chose stay of out school and classes— and claimed that it didn’t interest him.

so did coming today.

but the point was his attendance for this class was on the line and his busybody parents were sick of receiving phone calls or mails that kept filling their boxes, all for the same reason; that their son could be expelled despite handing assignments.

he rolled his eyes at the heat creeping up his ears as the whispers grew louder. he slammed the thin granite table, causing everyone to flinch at the sound and his presence. “can i have some quiet?! i can hear you guys talking crap about me!” he turned around at the pairs of eyes, soon frozen like meerkats.

they ticked him off. he couldn’t stand being in the same room with people who repeatedly questioned his existence of being here. he knew that rumours were going around, that the ‘jeong jaehyun’ in high school got into an private elite university— it could be anywhere but never expected it‘d be this campus. it was written in the judgment of their faces.

“chill man,” a guy his age swung his lollipop with legs on the desk. “some are curious why you decided to show up today since first semester’s a week away from ending, while some even wonder why you got into such prestigious and elite university.”

jaehyun’s eyed him slowly from legs to head. “who are you supposed to be?” he snorted at the stranger.

“just a guy who wants to break the distraught you’re trying to start.” he kicked his legs off the desk and stood up on his suede shoes, showing off his pearly whites.

he looked at everyone whose eyes averted from the two of them. “our town’s a small neighbourhood, so everybody knows everybody. we know exactly who you are, jeong jaehyun.”

“excuse me?” he swirled his tongue that it was evident he was pissed. “careful what you accuse me of. you and i both know it’s not going to end well-”

“they’re near they’re near!” a voice echoed the hall, cutting jaehyun’s attempt to intimidate the young man any further.

and with that signal alone, jaehyun could see and observe ladies fixing their hair and make-up, while the guys gave fistbumps to those near them. he rolled his eyes at him returning the favour to them as the guy unbuttoned his collar. “what’s wrong with you?” jaehyun was utterly weirded out. “with everyone?”

the crimson-haired guy only gave a flirty grin with raised brows. “this happens everytime.“

the door swung open with the professor rushing in. the students swifted heads, it wasn’t the first time he ever was late. he was young and good-looking, and it was hard to believe he still a bachelor. he gestured someone at the door, then the held-in giggles and mumbles were soon replaced with whispers of awe, as you walked in carefully with a tower of binder folders halfly covering your view.

clearly the guys around him have been secretly admiring; some had the confidence of taking selfies even if you were far, while others took a picture with their eyes so you were marked in their memories. ladies flocked towards the flustered professor like little chicks and surrounded him.

and that’s when the comments started coming in.

“park seojoon is so hot.” “hey remember to use ‘professor’.” “i guess genes runs in the family.” “his sister is ethereal too.” “i see her weekly and y/n’s a goddess.” “y/n! are you coming to the party tonight?”

jaehyun knew who you were through social media and common friends. and he included himself part of the people who admire you. he also remembered because he bumped into you during orientation. he wouldn’t usually care about passerby’s and strangers and although that was a brief moment and short eye contact, something about you was hard to not forget. you had people and friends under a charming spell he couldn’t describe, and that was in a good way.

you tucked a strand behind your ear and became shy afterwards as they whistled and cheered towards your gesture, making you heat up a thousand degrees higher. you should be used to this but every time it happens, you were just as flustered as your brother.

jaehyun’s legs got up on its own and was surprised at himself for making his way to help you. he picked up the fallen binder files and scattered papers while the whiskers by your eyes creased up in shyness.

he hitched a breath realising that the clumsy you was adorable too.

“thank you.” a smile then appearing at the corners of your lips caused jaehyun to freeze for a while. yuta wouldn’t miss anyone’s reaction. he slid his chair close to jaehyun’s as the he came back, nudging his chair for him to give into your beauty.

“i know a person with heart eyes when i see one. now you understand why we’re whipped for y/n. isn’t she a babe- agh.” he held the back of his head from the smack.

“don’t call me that, nakamoto.” you hissed sharply with how confident and careless he could get, especially with people you weren’t familiar with. you looked at the guy in a black sweater and let out an embarrassed sigh. “i’m sorry about my annoying best friend. yuta tends to be chatty when he feels lonely.” you winked at him.

it was jaehyun’s turn to flash short chuckle, its faint sounds perked not only your ears, but yuta’s as well. “not a problem. i know a lonely person when i see one.” jaehyun emphasised through his gaze.

“i’m not lonely! i have y/n and my men!” he whined and turned towards you. “see what you did y/n?”

“it’s good to finally see you, jeong jaehyun.” you ignored yuta and brought out a hand for a greeting.

you pursed your lips to stifle a laugh, jaehyun’s ears quickly turned from pink to red. he gulped loudly and took your hand in his, eyebrows lifting at how you knew his name.

lost for words and you both locked eyes where he forgot to let your hands go. “we take the same course together? i know your name because you’re the only one missing from the class-” you said, shaking his hands to subtly let him know it had been a minute since your hands felt his vainey flesh.

“okay young lad that’s enough time holding my sister.” seojoon separated your hands and jaehyun snapped out of his admiration, inhaling quite stressfully with how stupid he looked. “get to your class y/n.”

“alright, i’ll see you at tea hour.” you waved at the boys.

“as long as you’re treating i’ll go.” yuta hummed in a monotonous voice, fixing his laces that went untied.

“i’m not talking to you dimwit.” you flicked his forehead, leading to your satisfaction of the nut-like sound from it. “jaehyun, because you missed yesterday’s class, prof assigned me to assist you, along with the other topics you’ve yet to cover. i’ll be expecting you at the café near campus.”

before you stepped out of the hall, yuta pulled your sweater, yanking you back. “are you going to taeyong’s party tonight? you never miss an event!”

you puckered your lips, pinching his cheeks that a cute gummy smile came out from it. “you know my rules. as long as you’re driving me home, i’ll go. see you later.”

jaehyun nodded yet was still in a daze. he realised what you said when yuta pushed him. “gross. don’t act as if we’re already close.”

“hm? was i really? i think it’s normal when you’re making a move on my best friend.” he brought out his laptop and typed his password.

i wasn’t. “whatever.”

and to say that jaehyun didn’t feel butterflies flying uncontrollably in his stomach would be an understatement. they made the intestine churn in ways he couldn’t imagine, and he himself wanted to deny that what he was feeling was just from the influence of others. but wouldn’t that mean his feelings were temporary? because if it were, he should perceive you an ordinary person.

yet here he was outside, still admiring you before he entered the café. he found it was amusing of how oblivious you were of his presence— you were too immersed into this assigned task by professor, but others found it funnier when jaehyun looked stupidly in-love and cowardly the lad looked, despite having the overall aura of a stuck-up.

as the sun’s rays brightened the city and the wind’s breeze made the trees leaves dance, only then had you raise your head to see jaehyun waving at you. ten minutes early, not bad for an actual first impression. “hey,” he greeted, making you smile with his low but gentle voice. “am i late?”

you took your bag from across and asked him to sit down. “no no. you’re just in time, it’s really nice to have an early bird around.”

his dimples deepened at the compliment. “how about the project? is it too late? you think i can still catch up?” jaehyun cleared his throat.

“that depends on your dedication. based on the record professor gets, you’ve been doing your tasks and homework quite diligently. he’s just worried about your habit of not attending his lectures might lead to procrastination when second semester starts.” you gave him a slice of cheesecake to eat. “he’s still teaching us another subject.”

“it’s quite the contrary.” he dove in for the dessert. “i don’t have the will to procrastinate at all.”

“then good.” you twisted the pen in your fingers. “let’s get started?”

for that span of two hours, how he wished it could be more. who knew you would have a lot of things in common with him? that time alone was not enough to talk about vinyl and jazz singers and pretty much everything that were overlooked by people. he brought up his favourite spots in the city and how they became a safe haven to escape the reality.

to cut the explaining short, his shell slowly started to open, bits and new things were showing. if you were surprised he was a good person, jaehyun himself couldn’t believe he was able to converse with people normally. being the awkward and shy type, doing this almost seemed impossible.

was it your magic that caused him to do so?

you learnt that jaehyun was rather special and by special it meant he had gifts that you believed were way beyond human limits. he never studied in a library, rewatched lectures or written his notes. and the professor mentioned how jaehyun received good grades in most of the things he submitted.

to be very honest, you were a little jealous. from how he was sitting in front of you, he didn’t seem to be interested but was definitely listening. and you sort of gave up in continuing anyway. “i don’t understand why i’m told i need to guide you when you’ve already caught up with everything.” you let out a soft chuckle that seemed more of a question.

“i was waiting for you to stop..” jaehyun said quite blatantly and stretched his arms and you were hurt because if he didn’t want to, he could’ve said so. heck, even more so, he shouldn’t have come here and wasted time-

“..because it looked like you were forced to do this by prof.” his smile then faded seeing you mirror the same. “are you alright? you’re a little pale..”

your eyes widened. “oh uh, sorry, i assumed-” you sputtered and probably died inside with what he said. you cursed in your mind. dammit y/n.

jaehyun raised his brows, making you more flustered and panicky. you sighed and waved your ‘its-nothing’ hand. “assumed that i’m brusque and a stuck-up?”

he pierced his eyes at you and you weren’t going to lie, he scared you a bit. but that fear immediately disappeared when a gentle giggle and adorable dimples replaced it. “i get that a lot, but don’t worry. i’m different from what people think. they think i’m not friendly, a-and a loner too.”

“you’re not.” he heard you counter him, slightly slamming the fork down. “if you were, you wouldn’t be here with me. or even bothered to come.”

his heart became warm through your words, that act of kindness torn down his walls of inferiority and his perception towards people changed. “thanks.” he checked the time on his watch and twisted his wrist to show to you. “don’t you have a party to attend to?”

“lee taeyong’s?” you stood up to leave the café. “i feel like skipping it for tonight. i’m not in the mood for parties somehow.”

“because i’m a better company for you?” jaehyun teased and boy was he proud with his remark, you didn’t even deny it. “you don’t have to go if you really don’t want to. it’s better to have time for yourself sometimes.”

“you’re saying from experience?” you asked, putting pressure on your words about his claim of being alone.

“it’s more of an advice for you.” he winked.

you thought he was quite observant even though he barely socialised with others. he noticed the light in your eyes sparkling, in which he felt his chest squeeze. you twirled in your toes as you hugged your laptop. “say.. are you up for a movie marathon?”

—

including now, it’d be the fourth time you both have rewind the specific scene just for that certain song jaehyun kept singing nonstop. and although you loved his voice, having the song on replay would be a little too much and the purpose of the marathon might go in vain. it seemed jaehyun was way into it, so interrupting him would be mean of you so you sang along.

“the nostalgia still hits me ‘til this day.” jaehyun tossed a bag of chips from your kitchen island to you.

jaehyun kept saying it may sound stupid and corny coming from him, but as a child he liked the whole high school musical series; and he pretty much became one when breaking free started to play.

because you both couldn’t decide where to watch the beloved movies by everyone, the marathon ended up being at your apartment. it was subtle, yet quite obvious to you he didn’t want it to be held in his place. you thanked your psychology course for giving lessons to notice even the little things in behaviour.

“how many times do i have to keep telling you it’s okay to like it? not like anyone would tease you for it.” you giggled as you opened the bag and popped a couple of chips into your mouth.

“yeah sure, but i know you would.” he squinted his eyes for you to admit that that was your plan eventually.

“have i?” you singsonged, sipping on the large cola cup.

he pointed at the hairbrush you held and suddenly you bursted out in laughter since jaehyun was obviously— maybe a little— offended with how you mimicked him singing earlier. “okay you caught me.”

jaehyun felt his entire body heating up. still in denial about actually being into you, he took a challenge upon himself and scooted next to you. his arms slightly brushed and touched against yours. “you in for hsm 2?”

“well we are having a marathon, might as well go for camp rock later.” you shrugged and eyed him with a confirming gaze.

“uh-huh.. but i’m still a fan of the trilogy.” jaehyun stole the chips in your hands.

“now aren’t you cheeky.” you gasped at his playful behaviour, and you didn’t dislike it. perhaps you prefer this naught over yuta’s as it didn’t get into your nerves or have the urge to hit him because of the hyperness.

he sat deeper into the beanbag. “i’m comfortable in here. your house feels too homey.”

“so is it my fault that you’re in your comfort zone?” you stated, taking the bag of chips back into your arms.

“yes.” he protested with frequent waves of his palms. “you’re too kind and i might come here to visit often.”

“suit yourself.”

since he arrived here it had him wondering, why did he decide to show up today at campus when there was actually a pure human being like you? he just needed a person— just one— to knock onto his heart. yet with many people in his life trying to do the same thing, none held the correct key. and somehow,

it had to be you.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you’ve lost count of the number of times jaehyun has been hanging at your crib since then. it became a normal routine but never have you been to his place. it was always yours and you didn’t mind that. though he did promise, you respected his decision.

you found out he could be little dorky and corny but that was the unique trait about him. like friends at kindergarten, you both were still at a get-to-know-each-other stage. so that day, he created a schedule where he would hang out with you on wednesdays and fridays, claiming that he didn’t want to be seen by others, e.g. mr. nobody with ms. golden girl.

however, since then, people close to you have been looking at you rather differently. it wasn’t because they sometimes see jaehyun following you around, they sensed a different aura from you. you could feel their piercing stares from all directions, as if you were the centerpiece of a watch. there was something a little different than usual.

and you tried to ignore this ominous feeling for now.

yuta shook his legs vigorously, in which was an unsightly act to see for someone on the soccer team. you could see him from afar with his hands by his lips, biting it as he waited for your arrival at the university’s sports ground. jaehyun jogged towards you with his bag slung diagonally across his torso. he poked your neck and as a person with severe tickle spots, that caught you off guard into a fight-me position to the doer.

“chill, it’s just me.” jaehyun had both of his hands up, whiskers appearing just by the sides of his nose.

“jaehyun!” you relaxed your limbs. “got a better way of greeting? i don’t like being surprised.” you pulled the hem of his sleeve, missing how he pursed his lips in glee when you both instantly became close, like it was overnight.

he let you grab him as you both walked towards where yuta was standing by the bleachers. “i’m sorry?” he giggled loud enough only for you to hear. “i thought i’d get a priceless reaction from you.”

you rolled your eyes that it almost hurt doing so. “be glad i have enough patience for you.”

“and i didn’t have enough patience last night!” yuta joined the conversation seeing you and jaehyun before him. “where have you been? you said you were coming to my place yesterda- why is he here?” he looked at him then at you. “with you? again?”

“ever thought that i want to have my own ‘me’ time for once?” you took off your cardigan and placed it on the bleachers. you could feel jaehyun chuckling softly when you made reference to his remark.

and boy was he proud. “you’re emphasising on that quite often nowadays.” he helped you carry your bag as you to settled down.

“that’s because i never realised how true it actually is until i say it out loud, since being in everyone’s eyes does pressure me.” you balled your fists to nudge him lightly on the arm, and for him to dramatically receive the attack did put yuta in an awkward position.

“uh hello? i’m still here!” in front of you and jaehyun, yuta snapped his fingers several times to divert attention. “what’s going on with you two? how are you both suddenly so close when you’ve just met for the first time two weeks ago?”

jaehyun swifted his head towards you, and the telepathic exchange of words between you and him had yuta clicking his tongue in disbelief. “you were right, he will react.” jaehyun’s voice prolonged while munching on a corn dog.

“told you so.” you flicked your hair and turned to yuta as you continued talking. “bestie, we’ve been seeing each other since then.”

what the hell? the way yuta’s face turn sour at your smile towards jaehyun, he could almost faint right then and there since he swore he saw mr. dimples smile subtly at you too. “and with just that i’ve been replaced-”

“no i would never replace my best friend.” you held his palms hoping he would calm down from his high emotions, but he immediately pulled his hand away from you, much to your dismay. “hey, i’m here to make amends-”

“yeah?” he clicked on a pen and wrote something on a tissue, soon grabbing your bag from the seat and fished out your wallet. “then you’re treating me my meals for a month. i have another order right now.”

now it was your turn whose face became sour. “a month?! i can’t do that- hey!”

yuta tossed your credit card up in the air and upon seeing his eyes darken— though that was all in your head—you gave in and sighed heavily. you stomped your way to the caféteria while yuta comfortably put one leg on the benches with a satisfied grin. “man she’s easy to tease.”

“is that so? then i know now who she gets it from.” jaehyun said through his chews on his food, making yuta’s ears perk up at the response.

the atmosphere lingering between the two of them invited dark clouds. both could sense the change in their moods, and they both weren’t liking it.

yuta spun and played the ball on his hands then forearms, later let out a scoff when jaehyun raised his brows. he didn’t like the vibe jaehyun was giving and so did the latter. “i do it for fun. it’s natural between us.” yuta said.

“hm? she told me she doesn’t like it when you do.” he saw you on your tiptoes as you struggled to tell the order to the person at the high-levelled counter. but another scoff came out from yuta. “you got a proble-?”

“yeah kinda.”

“i don’t think so. i can tell it really bothers you when y/n hangs out with me.” jaehyun sat up straight at yuta’s comment about him.

“i should be. because i’m her best friend and who knows what type of person you are.” he did a few tricks with his legs. “but if you really want to know then your attitude is what i have problems with.”

“i remember telling you it wouldn’t be good for you when accuse me wrongly.”

he let out a monotonous and rather mocking laugh, taking jaehyun aback but he anticipated this kind of response from him. “and what? you’ll go berserk like you did years ago? as a high school freshman? beating the innocent up or whoever comes your way?”

“look i don’t know where the hell that came from but it’s not what you or everyone else thinks.” jaehyun aggressively crumpled the hotdog wrapper in his palms.

“c’mon you don’t have to hold it all in,” yuta set his ball aside and rested his hands on his waist. jaehyun was getting uncomfortable the more he listened to him. “unleash that side-”

jaehyun rolled his tongue, nodding his head to test him. “alright, i guess i don’t have to when i have feelings for y/n. thanks for the advice.”

what the..? yuta stared at him when there wasn’t a change in his expression. jerk- “now you’re talking. you wanna fight? let’s do that-”

“tsk yuta! the bill’s too expensive!” you whined and gently put down the tray.

while yuta clicked his tongue at your sudden entry and with how quickly you came back, for a moment jaehyun wanted to hug you for being his saviour. he was so close to lose his temper towards your best friend. the relief seen in his tensed shoulders, but you interpreted it otherwise. “are you okay?” you asked while you sat down beside him.

he hummed, folding his arms and looking at the distance, clearly avoiding eye contact with yuta. “mhm, i just realised the deadline is coming up in three days.” he excused.

you managed to utter out a giggle as you finally ate, finding out how jaehyun’s ears always turned red when given attention to. “you’re stressed about it?”

“aren’t you?” jaehyun drank the remains of his soda.

“not really since i finished mine. but, if you’re worried about your progress, i can help you.” you swirled the fork in the air like a wand. jaehyun smiled to himself when yuta took his ball to throw a fit.

“i’m not worried about the project. but there’s an annoying bug i’m trying to hit so help me.” jaehyun’s dimples appeared deeply again and as the darkening ombré sunset shoned his side profile, there you witnessed how pure he actually was— and you missed out on yuta’s frown towards jaehyun.

you gulped and almost choked on your own saliva, eyes still locked in jaehyun’s. his hair caught in the wind, making it look fluffy and his entire demeanour softer than you usually see him. you hitched a breath since jaehyun seemed like he had no plans to avert his gaze too. both of you were definely mesmerised and hypnotised, and for jaehyun it was just like that time. he remembered the colour palette of your makeup while you recalled the perfume he wore.

in the recent marathons with him you’ve never been this close, physically speaking. so this close-up really debunked the impression you heard from people, especially from yuta.

however, as you were oblivious with the pressure behind jaehyun’s words and even smiled back at him, yuta flicked your temple. he was indeed a worry wart and sometimes he would like to flick you just this once for being too much of a social butterfly. he knew it was in your nature to be kind and always on the look out for others. he’s fine when you were with anyone except with this guy you befriended. not him.

he dodged your flying limbs in attempts to hit him. “oi, you’re not going to ask how i am? if i’m worried?”

the pain from the flick remained on your temple. “no? you look fine to me-” you stared at your phone. the message reminding you of the singles elite party a month from today at 8pm. “a party?”

“yeah if you attended the previous party you’d know that there’ll be another one after taeyong’s.” yuta took off his shoes in change for his casual.

“hm. i’m don’t feel like going.” you jumped off the bleachers to dust off your pants. “probably gonna be boring.”

“i’m the one who’s holding it this time!” yuta put you under a headlock in his arms. “you’re ditching your best friend?!”

you giggled and ticked his sides and followed it with a playful hug. “just kidding. i heard from momo! i’ll be there.” you brushed your hair up into a messy bun while spotting jaehyun starting to feel out of place. “oh! do you wanna come to the party, jae?”

yuta mentally facepalmed and it was given he didn’t like what you did. but your eyes were quick to see his reaction and you slapped his chest. he glared at you while his hands caressed it. why did you have to invite him? it was the whole purpose why he decided to hold a party; maybe you’d finally appreciate his hardwork, or perhaps, notice him as someone more and as not a best friend who only worries and teases you.

jaehyun nodded in response, no words needed. a smile crept your lips as if you were given chocolates on valentine’s. “cool.” you pulled him on the wrist after hearing the coach calling yuta, followed with a loud whistle. “ah yuta, we‘ll get going! see you.”

“mm yeah..” yuta hummed, seeing you both vanish in the distance. “see you..”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

your sulking self laid sideways by jaehyun’s lap, head rested on a pillow. it’s been too long since yuta avoided you, purposely ditched your hangouts, seenzoned your messages and ignored your calls. as if these weren’t obvious enough for you to know something was up. there definitely was but you couldn’t put a finger to it. so you forced jaehyun to let you stay at his place, being it your apartment was currently invaded by your brother’s friends from abroad.

but honestly it was also because you discovered jaehyun’s unit was blocks away from yours. fate was gladly on your side.

“y/n, you know i can’t work properly when you’re like this.” jaehyun sighed while he adjusted his sitting posture and lifting his laptop.

you slightly and lazily your body turned upright, seeing his dimples beginning to show themselves. “let me be.” you complained.

jaehyun put down his laptop. “i can’t. you’re in my way of cramming hours. plus, how long have you been coming here? it’s getting too frequent..” he paused when your eyes were no longer on him— rather they were on your phone, staring at the last conversation from yuta.

he couldn’t bring himself to say that he was reason why yuta acting the way he was to you. and for all honesty he would keep this matter to himself. “did i do something wrong?” you asked.

“of course not. he’s probably in his emo phase. guys have them a lot more than you think.” jaehyun typed on the keyboard for the remaining parts of the essay. “but he’ll get out of it eventually.”

“fine i’ll trust on that.” you sat up and scooted over to see his progress. you submitted your assignment hours ago. looking at jaehyun, it seemed he was struggling at some parts. were you unconsciously pressuring him? the beads of sweat began to roll down his temples and that made you giggle if it was the case. uh-huh. he was really feeling that way.

he gulped so loudly that it came out as a weird noise. he hoped you didn’t hear that. but the way you pursed your lips to hold the laughter in only had him discontinuing his report. “d-don’t do that.”

“do what?” you snicker.

jaehyun rolled his eyes and poked your forehead. “you’re too distracting.”

oh how the tables have turned. that comment flipped your head upside down, your heart in a frenzy and stomach churning. it wasn’t “so”, but “too”— that only meant he wasn’t concentrating on his work for a while.

even so, you waited for him to finish despite questionable feelings you’ve been feeling. his coffee cup already did seconds and thirds. and suddenly you remembered the happy hour the local café was promoting and there was a few minutes left until it ends for the day. you had to bring him there.

but you decided that because you wanted to be out of that suffocating air jaehyun caused.

—

the more you walked faster, the more jaehyun’s wrist reddened and hurt. but he let you be as he liked how you were comfortable with someone like him. your hair flowed with the wind, the remains of your shampoo left a sweet scent. was it lavender? and the wind blew stronger, making the scent clearer to the nose. his heart skipped beats, because it was indeed lavender. he swore in his head. scrap aside the frequent marathons and meet-ups. lavender’s all the more reason why fell for you quickly than ever.

and when the local café closed early for the day, you almost lost sight of the pedestrian signs. jaehyun pulled you in as the light emitted red. though you had your emotions get the best of you, you realised how childish you were for something so minor. you laughed in awkwardness, he did too. “i didn’t want anyone to see this side-”

warmth. that was all you thought of right there. you were in his embrace.

“..of me.” you soon mumbled in his chest, realising later of the action he just did. “jaehyun-”

“it’s okay. i don’t too.” his hand gently caressed the back of your head, treating it with care as if he held a newborn baby. “so can i keep you?”

that warmth became hotter, almost boiling that you weren’t able to breathe properly. “i’m sorry.” he said, that must’ve surprised you.” jaehyun chuckled.

surprised? of course you were. how was it natural for him to do skinship? and that smoothly? you both weren’t at that stage yet, let alone have a relationship with mutual feelings. even yuta couldn’t hug you because of how conscious you felt.

but then again, you looked up. you saw his ears. it was red, the usual reaction whenever you were with him. was it normal though? you were never aware of it up until now.

because it was so clear now.

“i’ll see you tomorrow? i have to help my mom with some things.” you lied as you scratched your neck.

jaehyun nodded and pulled away. “alright, go on ahead.”

you poked his dimples because he has been staring at you like he had questions to ask. “what is it?”

maybe he didn’t notice or maybe he did, but he was leaning closer, his head tilting to the side and eyes staring into your soul. you knew what he was about to do, you feel like letting him do so but at the same time you weren’t sure of your feelings.

just a little more and you could’ve locked lips but..

your phone vibrated.

in panic you looked at your device and eyes widened that brought jaehyun aback.

“ah yuta!” you brought your phone so close to your face, not believing your best friend’s announcement on social media, in which he then followed up with a text message.

the light in your eyes was something jaehyun liked seeing, but didn’t so as well.

“oh! he said the concept for the elites’ party is live wardrobe. all singles will go through a ballot draw. it’s for the clothes to wear for the night..” you locked your phone. “tsk i wanted to wear my favourite dress.”

“i think you’ll look great in whatever gown is chosen for you.” jaehyun pat your head while you were immersed in your phone. “now go. it’s getting late.”

“i’ll expect the same for you.” you replied.

he laughed and that didn’t want to make you leave just yet. “nah don’t. i’m just ordinary in a suit.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

funny how he was so damn wrong.

fate let him draw red, and confidently chose a suit once it was his turn to change. it was as if he knew this attire would go well with him. a suede texture with a black outline on its collar accentuated his brushed up light brown hair, while his black under-shirt contrasted with his porcelain skin. gladly it wasn’t halloween, or else you would’ve mistaken him for a vampire.

he had you feeling all sorts of things, and you didn’t know why when you were nothing more than friends.

an hour ago he was in his usual casual wear. now he was surrounded with ladies who already seemed like they were friends with him for decades. you could see jaehyun was uncomfortable but he kept his cool with folded arms as he leaned against a column. the comments from them irritated you, because at one point they were badmouthing him— and the second he showed up they flooded him with compliments of his good looks and how they named him the “model elite”.

you swirled the wine glass in your hand, the other arm hugged your waist. you rolled your eyes at the falseness these people have towards him. “can’t believe it.” your fingers curled as irritation began to cover your sight. “look at them trying to make a move on him. erlgh too close. they weren’t like that before.”

sicheng rolled his tongue, hands in pockets and walked to be in front of you. “really? you weren’t like that before too.” he pointed out.

“i agree. recently you’re stuck like glue whenever you’re with him.” yuta gestured.

“am so not?” you gasped while your eyes trailed to jaehyun, who was still had patience for the ladies surrounding him. “i just like how he’s a good friend.”

“doubt it.” sicheng poked your cheek. “you wouldn’t feel like this when you have feeli-”

not this again. “i’m grabbing a drink.” yuta suddenly cut the conversation.

“get me one too!” the younger one yelled and after he was satisfied with the gesture, he winced as you pinched his sides from the remark he said earlier. “ow! y/n! it’s true though! i know what i’m seeing!”

truthfully, nothing about sicheng’s words or actions bothered you. but if there was anything that did, it was your own heart. as of tonight, you began to question your feelings towards jaehyun. when did it start? how was it possible to like someone so quickly? “i’m telling you i don’t.” your eyes trailed to him, not realising the rush of heat creeping your cheeks.

jaehyun was approached by yuta, who was giving him a glass of beer. the ladies fled after stealing pictures of the guy and he took the drink in his hands. then they headed towards the garden of the mansion. wonder what he’s here for?

“nice party you have here. concept’s cool.” jaehyun started to break the lingering silence because he knew how awkward this was going to be with your best friend.

“yeah, never knew you’d end up in red. it’s y/n’s favourite colour.” yuta’s voice lowered. there was an impact jaehyun could describe but assuming that would be too rude of him.

“really? i didn’t know.” he hummed. aren’t you a little too happy, jaehyun told himself. he shook it off, for he doesn’t expect him and you to go any further than this.

“now you do. so can you back up for a while? take a week off or something from y/n.” yuta raised his brows.

this was the same feeling from before. he knew this feeling because he felt the exact same way. he wanted to be selfish for once. not like he hated yuta, it was just.. he always had to appear whenever he didn’t want him to. then he would mess his mood. he interrupted his joy of admiring you. jaehyun licked his lips to dampen them. “i’m sorry, who are you to tell me what to do?”

yuta grinned and leaned against the column as he mirrored jaehyun. “don’t you get it?” he asked, his tone rising. “i love y/n. you entering the picture just ruins everything.”

my hunch’s correct. he does love y/n. “if you love her you wouldn’t ignore her.”

“it’s because you’re with her! and she does the same to me! it’s like she’s found someone else-”

“you’re being dramatic.” jaehyun pushed himself off the column and turned to him. “y/n’s sad and moping around because you treated her like she’s all alone. you have no idea how much she waited for you to contact her.”

“what do you know, smartass? you’re just another guy trying to fit in when you know you couldn’t. no matter how much you tried, everyone’s afraid of you. and now you’re telling me you have feelings for y/n? please.” his lips jutted with sounds of disbelief while his body posture challenged jaehyun. “y/n’s kind to everyone she meets. it’s who she is. but to think you have hope to be with someone like her? if you ask me, all i see is a greatest mismatch.”

jaehyun usually didn’t give a damn of the comments about him. he couldn’t care less of any of those. in fact he’d hear them through one ear and out they went. but when he said anything, it irked him.

you see, that was the thing— right now, he actually listened.

he turned a blind eye on yuta’s words and let it off for the night. he was given a drink and maybe the alcohol didn’t work its way on him than it did to guy. in the end, yuta was probably spilling tea even if he didn’t intend to.

“what i feel for y/n has nothing to do with you. just like people can’t control the tides,” jaehyun lightly knocked onto yuta’s chest. “i can’t control mine.”

the footsteps echoed in yuta’s ears, he could hear them despite the noisy hall. “rghhh!” he grabbed hold of his glass and threw it towards jaehyun.

sounds of shattering glass met the ground, as well as catching everyone’s attention. then there was silence. jaehyun began to lose his patience as he turned around. his smirk challenged him. ouch. this was the fight yuta was looking for, seeing jaehyun’s heavy breaths only made him stand on his toes.

jaehyun punched him in the jaw though he knew it wasn’t worth his time. but he wanted to give him a taste of stepping beyond boundaries. yuta punched him back too. he made sure the star of the night was the other— shone the brightest and reveal his true nature. he didn’t count the number of hits he received, as long as jaehyun stayed that way.

“i told you it wouldn’t be good if you provoked me!” jaehyun growled. “you’re asking for show? i’ll give you one!”

“huh..” yuta wiped his bleeding lip. “you sure about that, beast?”

jaehyun held himself for the next punch, feeling all of the pairs of eyes on him. yours included. that was what he feared. “aw. what impression does she have on you now?” yuta’s cooing words caused jaehyun’s eyes to soften.

all bleeding and bruised, jaehyun’s injuries have matched with his suit. he clenched his fists as he frustratingly left the hall.

in your peripheral, your eyes trailed his direction and your legs followed him by heart, without realising yuta calling out your name several times. everything went blank, not thinking things straight because while everyone watched, no one understood. you glared at yuta before heading outside, a more disappointed sigh was the only response he got from you.

yuta was then nudged by sicheng. the latter could see the change in his expression. “what did i tell you?”

“you don’t have to tell me.” yuta dusted his pants.

“i’m still gonna.” sicheng rolled his eyes and poked the lad’s temple. “that’s what you call ‘stupidity’. if only you confessed to her before maybe things would be different between you guys.”

“i don’t want things to be different dude.”

“i’m gonna state the obvious, you probably already know this but.. you lost this battle.”

“crap..” yuta’s voice changed from a nervous chuckle to a soft sob. “i liked her first.”

you spotted jaehyun sitting atop a metal barrier just in front of the carpark— head down to mend his injuries and scratches. he sniffed from the cool night breeze before hopping off. “you’ll hurt your feet.” he pointed at the heels you had dangling in your hands.

his gaze softened when you pointed at his face, especially the black eye. “touché.” he chuckled, later feeling your cold hands against his throbbing flesh. “it’s no big deal-”

“i’m sorry about yuta’s behaviour.” you sighed. “don’t let it get into you. he’s an airhead when he’s drunk-”

“you sure? he seemed pretty sober when he said- ah.” he pursed his lips to speak any further. “nevermind.”

now that gotten you curious. “what did he say? spill it!” you whined, causing jaehyun mouth to curve a little in amusement.

jaehyun prolonged the silence and grabbed your shoes, leading you towards his car. once he unlocked it and opened the door, he bursted out in a loud, healthy laugh. “he said he was head over heels for you.”

you pushed him to the driver’s seat and slammed the door, rolling your eyes at the pun. “that was so lame!” you sat on the other side. “but i know that already if you thought i didn’t. i subtly turned him down ages ago. guess he didn’t take the message.”

“clearly.”

as you tended to his wounds, one question still had your curiosity at its peak. jaehyun was quiet through-out, so it was hard to bring the topic up for a while. until your eyes and his met.

“what did you tell him before he threw the glass at you?” you dabbed the cotton onto the beaten area. “it must’ve pissed him.”

he dropped his car keys and let out a nervous hum. “uh..” he didn’t know what else to say. right when he was finally about to tell you, you suddenly giggled.

“unless you told him you like me and that made him angry, but i doubt that happened.” your lips shrank to a circle, cursing at yourself for assuming too much. girl the guts you have was incomparable—

jaehyun’s large hand held yours while you continued to apply medication. the warmth, the heat and the building tension of skinship made you weak. “you’re right.”

your smile and breaths changed in an instant when he fixed himself on the seat. he smirked a little, finding how cute you were. it drove him crazy.

“i like you, for the longest time, since the orientation. i’m so into you that i couldn’t help myself be selfish and have you to myself— i- i don’t know what i’m saying.” he sighed, pushing himself away in embarrassment with arms above his face.

“t-thanks.” you fiddled with your fingers.

“i’m not asking for an answer. i just wanted to let you know.” he said. “gosh this is a bad timing for confession.”

“then is it a bad timing if i said i’m into you too?” you looked away and out in the distance. you could see his reaction on the window’s reflection. he was shocked, but an uncontrollable smile was forcing itself on the surface. it was written in the dimples.

“no,” his husky voice called you to look back. “you’re just about right.”

#jung jaehyun #jung yoonoh #nct jaehyun #jaehyun oneshot #jaehyun #jaehyun imagines #nct 127 #nct #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun nct #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun angst #jaehyun au #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun fanfic

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mystic-kitten-writer · 3 years ago

Note

Ok this kinda embarrassing and the first time I’ve requested anything but, yk how you mentioned public bedding in ur zuko x of pinned post. Do you think u could write something abt that? Obviously no pressure and if ur uncomfy just ignore me.

Oh, love, don't be shy! I promise, you're welcomed here and free to drop an ask or request anytime~

And, it's your lucky day, because the public bedding may or may not be canon in Limerence 👀 Hence, here are tiny snippets of my rough drafts if I were to write this. Because it's totally not canon Zuko and Yue get married or something and this happens- totally doesn't happen 🍵

AU: Limerence, Bedding Teasers

Pairing: Zuko x Fem. OC (Ying Yue Jiang)

Masterlist

Shy, straddling Zuko’s lap with an intense blush.

His fingers were gliding over my arms, feeling the fabric that decorated my skin. I was so nervous, trembling, unable to stop fiddling with the band of his pants as my hands rested over the space between us. Our noses were just touching as his warm breath fanned over my skin.

“Love, we don’t have to do this.” Zuko hummed, a charming smile of comfort.

I could feel his warmth through the sheer fabric, my head tilted upwards as I stared at Zuko’s lips.

Today was the most magical day in my life.

The vows, the dancing, dressing up as a princess of my dreams while my dads and everyone else cheered and celebrated. Everyone I cherished, I loved, family and friends were all there for me.

But most importantly, I can finally call Zuko, my husband.

Dreaming of this moment since the day I laid eyes on him, an instant connection I never thought one could experience. I bit my lip, a silence filling the room that for a moment, the fact that there was a crowd behind us was forgotten.

Purposely making my back face them, as I sat over Zuko’s legs, hugging his thighs. My touch was easing its way up to his chest, enjoying the feeling over his skin under me as I caressed the faint scars that littered.

I was tired, exhausted from all the emotions, but seeing Zuko like this. Shirtless, hair loose, my blush deepened.

There wasn’t a doubt in me that I was nervous, but another part was so curious. Memories of every time we had almost been caught while we were having fun; from the quickies in the study, the garden. The thrill, idea, of someone watching us.

“Just what are you thinking about,” Zuko purred, his finger tapping my lips, and I realized how heavy my breathing had begun.

Wetness beginning to grow and stain the front of my panties, embarrassed at how I had just been caught fantasizing. But the smirk on Zuko’s face grew before rolling his hips against mine.

My eyes widened, hitching a breath because he was hard.

The head of cock, rubbing against my core, causing the fabric of my panties to rub against me. I bit down a moan, my head tilting downwards as my eyes fluttered shut at the sudden bolt of pleasure.

“A-ah, Zuko-” I shyly stumbled and Zuko groaned, bucking his hips against me, causing me to tense as my mouth to part.

“I haven't even fucked you yet, and look at them.” Zuko chuckled into my ear as I arched my back against his chest. The arm that looped over my knee stopped me from pressing my legs together, twitching as his finger continued to tease.

I struggled to breathe, head tossed as my hips jerked, seeking his touch as he flirts with my cunt.

His cocky smirk pressed against my neck, loving how my eyes fluttered shut when he rolled my clit. It was a touch that left one to desire, his fingers on either side, sliding back and forth. The slickness that drips between my legs, a puddle of my cum pooling underneath.

"It's so sensitive-" I gasped.

But my movements, the whine that left my lips, it was such a contradiction. My hips are rolling, despite pleading, another knot building.

"Mmm, but look love. They want to see, see how you gush for me."

His words were a demand, and my body obeyed. Forcing my gaze to lift, meeting the eyes in front of us. It was too much, body flushing red, breathing hitched, "They're all staring at you, love."

Zuko's right. Shifting in their spots, faces twisted in a mixture of arousal and shame. Unable to look away, but they continued to stare, to gawk. Hypnotized by how I twitch and arch, humping Zuko’s hand out of desperation to feel more.

A few of them letting their palms rest in front of them with flushed cheeks, their knees buckling. They were- I gasped as Zuko let his fingers spread my folds, his middle finger happily rubbing that pleasurable button.

The robe that barely stayed on my shoulders finally began to tumble, bunching at my elbows as I tried to muffle my cries. It felt good, so overwhelming and Zuko groaned into my ear.

I was unintentionally rubbing against his bulge nestled perfectly behind my ass.

"Fuck, at this rate, they're not gonna make it for the best part," Zuko snickered as he stared at the audience that daringly got closer. Bucking into the fabric of their clothes, just how Zuko rutted me from behind. Groaning as I pushed myself further into his embrace, wanting to feel the heat from his body, how his cock twitched.

No longer bothering to hide their stares, they saw my toes curl, my hands falling over Zuko's thighs as my pitch grew. My nails dug into the fabric of his silk robes as I struggled to contain my moans. A wave of embarrassment at the eyes that watched, but it was intoxicating.

So dirty, yet I couldn’t stop making a mess-

"They're so fucking thirsty, love. They look like you, drooling. Wishing to know how you taste. Should I let them?"

I shook my head, gasping as his rubbing never stopped but rather got more intense. My hips were jerking into his hand, "N-no."

"Mmm, and why not, love?"

"Cause I only want you," I whined, and Zuko chuckled into my ear, placing possessive kisses over my neck. Humming in utter bliss, his kisses turning into bites. The sting after his teeth left marks over my skin, arching further as his touch began to speed up.

My arms reached before me, hands gripping whatever I could.

Skin dewy, sweat beading down my forehead as another moan left my lips. Zuko's hands along my hips were deathly tight, forcing my hips upwards while he grunted.

One sharp thrust, his balls slapping against my cunt, that sent a wave of pleasure up my spine. All I could do was gasp his name out because it felt so damn good.

With every roll, it felt like Zuko went deeper, my walls squeezing him painfully because every drag of his cock was causing me to shudder. A new orgasm was building before I could even process the last.

The sounds of our breathing grew, and the intensity only increased as my eyes darted upwards, another wave of guilty pleasure washing over me because everyone was watching so intensely.

The looks of pained struggle on the guards’ faces, giving up entirely of not trying to watch. Their mouths hanging, eyes glued at how I gasped and cried out. My hair was a chaotic mess as Zuko tugged, beckoning me closer, loving how my back arched into him.

“Fuck, you love this, don’t you, love?” Zuko hissed as he felt me clench around him.

I whined, wanting to hide my face in shame because it was so painfully true. Everyone heard my times with Zuko, my screams, my begs. But for them to see, witness first-hand what they were always curious about.

Tears bubbled because I could feel myself tensing around Zuko’s cock, my breath caught in my throat.

“Again?” Zuko teased before his hand began to snake down my hips over my stomach. My eyes widened, already knowing what his plan was, and I shook my head desperately.

“D-don’t, Zuko. I-I’ll-”

Skimming down my stomach, already finding what he was seeking. The pads of his fingers happily parting my folds to let his fingers rest on my clit. His thrusts were growing, using my body to pump himself, hitting that spongey part inside of me that had me seeing stars.

My vision was getting spotty, trying to speak words, but I was merely blubbering nonsense. Zuko was cooing into my ear, encouraging, excited to see me break- “Cum for me.”

I could feel myself gush around him like a dam breaking, his thrusts never stopping, his fingers continued to rub furiously. It was a loud scream as I could feel my juices drip down my legs, painting his with my cum, and Zuko could only groan from behind as I squeezed him.

“Fuck, baby-”

“I-I can’t stop.” I cried, my body convulsing, another wave hitting me, “Maybe this will be a nighty thing, fucking you in front of a crowd. Having you cockwarm while we’re in meetings.”

And my cheeks continued to burn because the thought didn’t seem frightening but a blessing at this point.

Disclaimer: I do not own any Avatar characters besides any original characters I have created.

Cross-posted on Ao3/Tumblr/Quotev/Wattpad to discourage plagiarism.

❤ Buy me a coffee? ❤

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unhealthyfanobsession · 3 years ago

Note

Can I ask for drunk Nesta flirting with Cassian in front of the ic and him getting all flustered but being secretly pleased about it???

Hell yeah you can! I love this idea! It wasn’t specified so I’m going modern here just because I’m not really sure where this could’ve happened in the canon timeline without a bunch of other factors impeding. Also I’m throwing in a dash of my fav jealous Cassian 😏

It wasn’t that Cassian didn’t want to be there. Well, no, actually that was exactly what it was. Cassian didn’t want to be there. He was exhausted and he hadn’t gotten to the gym that morning and he had a massive deadline that Rhys kept insisting they could push back but Cassian didn’t want to. He just wanted to go home and finish his report and maybe have a glass of whiskey to close off a truly awful week.

But Feyre’s art exhibit opened earlier that week and he hadn’t even gotten to see it yet and so it wasn’t like he could blow off her big party when he already felt like the world’s worst friend.

And he was completely lying to himself and everyone else. He didn’t want to be there because he didn’t want to watch Eris Vanserra’s slimy ass mill about the elegantly decorated, high ceilinged, natural light dripping, beautiful space, with his eyes glued to Nesta’s ass as if it was the art they were meant to be appreciating.

Did Cassian also appreciate every inch of her body like it had been sculpted by Michelangelo? Yeah but that was besides the point. And he had the respect to do it subtly.

“Remind me why he’s invited,” Cassian grumbled into his overpriced merlot. Because apparently only wine was classy enough for these fancy, classy, art events.

“He’s Lucien’s brother.” Azriel also didn’t look impressed by Eris’ uninvited hand on the small of Nesta’s back. Or the way he kept refilling her glass before she asked or was even done. “And he’s richer than Midas and spends a lot of that money on art.”

Cassian rolled his eyes. “We have as much money as he does.”

“Yes but you know Feyre’s rule. No family purchases. She doesn’t want to be a success just because Rhys could buy and sell this entire gallery.” Azriel was stoic as usual. Betraying no opinion on the matter.

It was several hours of carefully constructed comments where Cassian pretended he knew anything about art and pretended his neck wasn’t getting increasingly hot under his collar as Eris kept glued to Nesta’s side.

Cassian had no right to be jealous. He knew that. He and Nesta weren’t anything. Casual flirting. Witty banter. Eternal, pining, unrequited love on his end that she didn’t even seem to notice or care about. So fine. Maybe Eris was her type. It wasn’t his place to interfere.

Except that she really needed a glass of water right now and-

Cassian’s hand darted out on instinct as Nesta walked past him, wobbling a little on her completely impractical shoes.

“Careful sweetheart.”

He braced for the hissed don’t call me that, but When he looked up Nesta was blinking slowly through a hazy wall of the wrong wine.

The wrong wine because Eris had been giving her a Nappa Cab Sauv all night when she preferred old world Syrah. Which was probably why she kept drinking it so quickly, looking for her opportunity to get what she really wanted.

“Cass,” she smiled. It was a little lopsided and definitely off kilter, but even through her wine brain he could see that she was playing at something. Nesta had never called him Cass in his life. “It’s so good to see you!” Her voice went up a full octave and she pressed her entire body against his as she hugged him.

The display turned a few heads in their direction. It was mostly just family at this point, and Eris who couldn’t learn how to take a fucking hint. Technically, he supposed, Eris was family. Nesta’s fucking brother in law. Was that how it worked? Was the brother of the person your sister married also your brother in law? Brother in law once removed?

Not important, moron. Drunk Nesta. Body. Wrapped in a tight sheath dress and clinging to him. Cassian closed his hands around her back and got lost for a minute.

Holding her against him like she was made to fit in his arms. Breathing in her scent like he could capture it in a bottle and spray it on his pillow every night before he went to bed.

Someone cleared their throat. Feminine. High pitched. Mor.

Nesta had already let go and was smirking at him a little. He dropped his hands immediately. “Um, yeah, always a pleasure.”

“Interesting choice of words,” Nesta’s grin was feline. She was definitely up to something. And normally he would make a stupid remark, probably something about how much more pleasurable the evening would be back at his apartment, except that she was drunk and his entire family was staring and Eris was still standing there.

“Can I get you a glass of water?” It seemed like the right thing to say. To offer. Feyre smiled a little, a silent thank you. Azriel was covering a laugh, Mor was watching them both with narrowed eyes like a hawk, and Rhys honestly couldn’t have cared less. Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “Or maybe throw you into a pool,” Cassian joked stupidly.

“You should probably buy me dinner before offering to get me wet.” Someone dropped a glass. Cassian honestly thought it might have been him and he wouldn’t have noticed. Not in that moment. Not with Nesta looking at him through hooded eyes and talking about…

He could do this. His pants were not getting tight. Not at all. Because he wasn’t a damn teenager.

“I- um- do you-”

Nesta burst out laughing. It was a sound he’d never heard from her. She was usually all sultry under her breath snorts or ironic guffaws. Full, deep, angels singing, laughter was not usual for Nesta.

As evidenced by the fact the no one was even pretending not to be watching them anymore.

“I’ve got her.” Eris pushed himself back to Nesta’s side.

“Does he?” Nesta looked straight at Cassian, one eyebrow raised. “Because I’m willing to bet he wouldn’t have made it past glass two if your family wasn’t here.”

Azriel coughed. Amren cackled.

“You… do you want him to have you?” It came out wrong. The words. He meant did she want Eris to take her to get some water. Like he offered. He didn’t mean, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t…

“I want you to have me.” She was drunk. She was so drunk and it shouldn’t have been hot but fuck him it was. It wasn’t some sloppy college night out messed up drunk. It was a woman whose inhibitions had been soaked in wine just enough that every word out of her mouth was low and hot and honest.

“Find somewhere else to be, Vanserra.”

“Hey man what the fuck? We were talking-“

Cassian scoffed, snapping out of whatever flustered mess Nesta had put him in. “Anyone who gave her that much Cab Sauv doesn’t deserve to talk to her. Get lost.”

“I saw you eyeing the bottle,” Nesta laughed a little, swaying on her toes. Cassian moved his hands from a support on her bicep to a full arm around the waist support. Even if she did try to fall he could lift her with one arm easy. “Thought you might say something after…”

After the night they spent in her apartment with a bottle of her favourite Syrah only a week ago. It hadn’t been on purpose. Feyre and Elain and Azriel and Lucien were all supposed to be there. And they all conveniently cancelled only after he’d already showed up.

Which, judging by the barely contained grins on their faces, was even less of a coincidence than he thought. Busybodies.

“I’d offer you a glass of Syrah now, but I think what you need is a coffee.”

“Oh but then I’ll never sleep. And I do think I’m ready for bed.”

Sensing that he’d lost, Eris swore under his breath and stomped off.

“Let me take you home, Nes.” Cassian whispered into her hair.

“Hmm, your place or mine.”

“Yours,” he kissed her temple, pulling her legs out from under her and not even paying his family a backwards glance. “For a nightcap of 2 big glasses of water and a bottle of aspirin that I’m going to leave on your nightstand for the morning.”

“You don’t want to be there in the morning?”

Cassian groaned. “You said it yourself, Sweetheart. Dinner first.”

“You’re never going to let me live this down.” Nesta sighed, head lulling onto his shoulder.

“Actually go for dinner with me next week and I promise to never bring this night up again. And bribe our friends to do the same.”

“Deal,” Nesta said immediately.

An hour later after Cassian had supervised Nesta drinking her water he was about to leave her apartment when she yawned.

“Hey Cass,” she mumbled, half asleep.

“Yes sweetheart?”

“You made a bad bargain. I would’ve gone out with you either way.”

Cassian chuckled, a low rumble. “I’m satisfied with the bargain I made.”

“Cheesy as hell.”

“You love it.”

Nesta laughed, “I am prepared to tolerate it at best.”

“Good enough for me.”

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #drabble requests #nesta archeron #acosf #cassian #nesta and cassian #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #acotar

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mischiefmanaged71 · 4 years ago

Text

Bad Romance - Joaquin Torres X Reader

Song: Bad Romance - (961) lady gaga - bad romance ( s l o w e d ) - YouTube

Summary: The reader is an enhanced individual with the ability to replicate other people’s abilities. A member of the Avengers, she has been working alongside Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes to investigate the Flag Smashers but the man calling himself the next Captain America poses an obstacle when he takes interest in her abilities.

Author’s Note: Hello! So this is my first time posting a fic I've written. I’ve been writing since 2018 but never had the courage to post anything so I hope you all enjoy my story. Torres has only been in ‘The Falcon and The Winter Soldier’ for like five minutes but I’m in love with him. There obviously isn’t enough fiction out there about him so I took it upon myself to write one. This is an idea I came up with in my head, aside from the plot of the show. Listen to the song for added effect. I’ve inserted timings as well :)

Pairing: Joaquin Torres X Fem!Reader

Warnings: TFATWS SPOILERS, Canon-level Violence, blood, romance

Word count: 2.5K

Darkness is all you’ve known these past hours.

It’s been almost twenty-four hours since you’ve last had contact with anyone. Sam would usually check in with you about now, but that didn’t seem a likely possibility.

Your right eye is almost swollen shut and you’re pretty confident that you have a few broken ribs from how difficult breathing is. The sound of metal creaking echoes in the empty room as you rattle your restraints.

You’ve been quite literally chained to the wall.

They weren’t taking any precautions.

Especially after witnessing the dozen agents you could take down all by yourself.

Leaning against the wall, you try to reach some semblance of comfort, laying some of your weight against the hard-rock. Your neck burns from the collar they attached when you caught you off-guard.

It was during a recon mission, you were chasing a lead about the Flag Smashers’ next meet up when they showed. Half a dozen armed men in tactical gear.

They snagged a collar on you, disabling your powers.

You didn’t anticipate this.

All you heard was a piercing noise and then you blacked out.

You couldn’t access your powers as soon as that light buzzed. Trying to summon fire warranted a little electric shock to your system. Little, meaning severe enough to take down an elephant.

Yeah, so getting out of here would be tricky.

Isn’t it always?

Five guards have remained in the room for the past two days, monitoring, watching.

For what?

You have only the slightest idea why.

The double doors which have remained close for the past two days creak open. The blue uniform is familiar to you but the face donning the outfit is not. He’s an imposter wearing a costume, a mock of the real thing. John Walker, along with his so-called ‘American squadron’, had grabbed you as a statement. Sam and Bucky certainly weren’t going to stay out of it because someone told them to. You all followed a code, to protect those who couldn’t fight for themselves.

“Hello, Y/N, it's been a while since we met last...I’m sorry for the way you were handled on the way here but it was the only way I could get to talk to you.”, he said, looking at the bruises beginning to form.

He talked nonchalantly as if this were a normal conversation. Your wrists were raw from pulling away from the cuffs, clothes covered in dirt and dried blood. He strode up to you, pulling his helmet off and placing it carefully on a metal crate.

“Now, I know Bucky and Sam had a lot to say about me, but you, you were always silent. I thought we had an understanding.”

‘An understanding?’

You refuse to look at him.

“You talk big words for someone who couldn’t begin to understand the legacy of that uniform.”

“I earned this! I put in the work. All they want is someone to look up to. To show them that justice still exists.”, he paces in front of you.

“Justice. Is it?”, your eyes narrow.

He pauses in thought, seething with internalised spite. Pacing the floor, he turns his back to you.

“Have you had time to think about my question?”

You remain silent, glaring at his mockery of Steve’s uniform.

“No? Okay. That’s fine,”, he whispered.

Walker signalled for a guard to open the doors once more and two more men entered, dragging someone along. You squint your eyes to identify the person as they dump them in front of you.

“No”, you whispered desperately, your breath caught in your throat.

You spot Joaquin’s dark hair and tan complexion, more so, the blood staining his clothes. The men dragged Joaquin next to Walker, letting him slump to the floor. From what you could see, he had been beaten pretty badly, the bruises already beginning to form on his face. His hands are cuffed behind him and he’s unable to hold his own weight.

Panic fills Torres as he notices the chains securing you to the wall. The last he heard over the coms was a struggle. He and Sam had been surveilling to get anything they could on your kidnappers.

You could only hear the rapid beating of your heart in your throat as blood rushed to your face. Your breathing quickens as you don’t quite know what will happen next.

John broke the silence,

“I’m going to ask you again.”

“Then, I'm going to count from three.”, he said, pulling a silencer out from his waistband and cocking it at Joaquin who rested on his knees.

“What are you?”

You stare at him incredulously, unresponsive.

You look down at Joaquin as he gazes up at you, helpless to move with guns trained on you. He’s telling you to stop, to lie, to do anything but give yourself up.

“What answer do you want?”, you asked, using all your strength to lift your head up.

“You want me to say I’m a freak? A mutant? An experiment? What good does that do you? Everyone knows it.”, you huff, sharpening your glare.

He stares down at Joaquin and kicks his foot out against the ground, clicking his tongue. Walker threw his foot into Joaquin’s back, pushing him into the floor.

“Not that.”

You watch as he points the gun harder.

“Tell me. What. You. Are.”, he grits out.

You clench your jaw hard, shutting your eyes tightly. A burning sensation fights in your chest, spreading to your arms. You suck in a breath desperately, a whimper tearing from your throat as your head drops.

The click of the safety echoes loudly.

(1:26s of the song)

Your eyes shoot open, blazing red and as the chains snap free from the wall. The metal clangs loudly against the floor, triggering the five weapons now pointed at your chest. A surge of fire ignites as you swipe your leg, knocking the agents back. The two standing closest raise their guns as you tilt your head and launch a blast of fire from your hand. The next agent replaces him, firing his gun consecutively, but you strut towards him, swiping them away with blasts omitting from your hands. You send a roundhouse kick with a wall of fire, propelling him through the exit. The remaining three encircle you with their weapons, clicking the safety off.

Your hands burn, glowing red with the heightening energy,

“Okay, you got me.”

You raise your hands in surrender as one of them steps towards. Faltering a step, you inhale deeply as he grabs your arm. Once he sets a hand on you, you exhale, breathing out a stream of fire. You twirl in a circle, the fire pushing them back and blocking their sight of you as they flinch from the heat. Dropping to the floor, you strike the cement and crack the surface. The building’s structure shakes as a cloud of energy dissipates from the contact, incapacitating the last of the soldiers.

Walker fixes his gun on Joaquin but you focus your glare on him. You wait as he stares at you, knowing he has the advantage.

"I'd stop right now, if I were you."

You silently stare at him with blazing fire burning in your orbs. The clicking of the safety reverberates in your mind as all movement stops. The muzzle of the gun is inches away from Joaquin's head.

“Alright, you’ve had your show now.”

You've got mere seconds to make a decision here.

He remains still, as Joaquin’s eyes meet yours and you nod your head slightly.

It’ll be okay because you’d never let anything happen to each other.

"Walker, you've made your point. Look, it's me you really want, not Torres.", You snipped, grabbing his attention.

Joaquin’s heart raced faster,

What were you doing?

You could see the gears turning in Walker’s head, his eyebrows perk up.

"C'mon, this whole thing was to get to me, right? To weaponize me. It's my power. So take it. Just let him go."

Walker pauses in thought,

"I don't think I will."

You knew that'd be his answer but he was too busy looking at you to notice anything else. Joaquin threw his leg out, kicking Walker’s shin to knock him off his centre.

Moving quickly, you roundhouse, knocking the gun from his hand and driving your foot into his knee. He lets out a pained yell, ducking your elbow jab and rolling behind you. You roll forwards, swooping your flames across the floor to knock Walker on his back. He rolls to the side, standing again to flick open a compact switch from his pocket. He struggles for a moment as you strut over, but he presses the button down with conviction.

You falter in your steps as a loud piercing sound breaches your cranium and hearing. It’s overwhelming, threatening to shatter your skull. A whimper falls from your mouth as both hands grasp your head. You can faintly hear Joaquin yelling your name from behind. The pain is unbearable. Joaquin bangs the cuffs on a metal crate behind him, forcing them to break.

Your vision blurs as you clumsily move towards Walker. Once you’re close enough to him, you throw an uncoordinated right hook but he catches it and returns with a kick to your chest, knocking you to the floor. The pain continues, eliciting a moan from you as it grows worse with each second. Joaquin watches as you scream in agony, sprinting towards Walker and tackling him to the floor. Walker loses the switch from his hand, punching Joaquin in the jaw to get him off. Joaquin hisses as his head hits the floor, but he’s quickly grappling for the switch before Walker can get his hands on it. Scanning the floor, he sights it inches away from where you’re curled up in a ball. He’s crawling over to make it but a grip on his shoulder halts him, flipping him over and punching him repeatedly.

Over the intense clanging, you see black dots form in your sight as you want to pass out. You hear grunts nearby and the sound of a fist making contact with skin. You flicker your eyes upward to see Walker’s figure looming over someone.

‘Joaquin...where’s Joaquin?’

You close your eyes and force yourself up, struggling to gain your bearings. Upon opening your eyes, you notice something within your reach. Crawling forward, your fingers barely touch it. You try again and again before you feel the metal beneath your fingertips. Finally, you have it in your hands and crush it. The metal crunches and the ringing ceases. A sigh of relief leaves your mouth as you push yourself off the floor.

More coherent now, you angrily send a blast of energy to knock Walker off of Joaquin. Scrambling off the floor, he brings his fists in front of him, but you've already there, standing in front of him.

"I’m going to count from three.”, you said.

Striking a wave in his direction, you blast fire into his chest, your eyes imbuing fluttering embers.

‘Three’

You continue your onslaught, attacking him with multiple blows of rage.

Your figure looms over Walker, blocking Joaquin from his sight.

‘Two’

Your hands emit a fiery glow as you project flames, igniting a huge blast which sends Walker crashing through the window and down below.

‘One’

Gazing down the terrace, you saw Walker’s unconscious body laying on the crushed roof of a car. The authorities would show up eventually.

Looking back inside, you finally start to feel the adrenaline rush declining. You move away from the window to find Torres leaning against a crate. Joaquin's face is bruised and cut-up as he holds his side with a grimace.

"Joaquin, are you okay?!",

You rush over to hold his other arm, scanning him for serious injuries.

He stops your moving hands to grip them,

"(Y/N), I'm okay, I'm okay. It's you I'm worried about. You almost died. How did you do that?", Joaquin asked, concern lingering in his eyes at the magnitude of your powers.

"I-I don't know. I guess my powers have always been linked to my emotions and then you were in danger. It was kind of instinctive, you know?"

"I could never let anything happen to you. Never.", She whispered silently, not noticing if he had caught it.

Joaquin moved to grasp her chin in his hand, pulling her head up so he could look into her eyes.

"You saved me."

You glanced over his face and the clear pain he was hiding from his injuries.

"You have no idea how glad I am that you're okay. I-I was afraid...It shouldn't have been you.", You said to Joaquin, tears glinting in your sight.

"I'm not going anywhere. The last thing I want to do is hurt you.", he said, moving closer as your eyes meet his deep and endearing gaze.

"We should call Sam.", You suggested.

"I'll call him later."

Yours eyes met as he leaned his forehead on yours. You inhaled deeply as he gripped your hands tightly as if you would fall out of his grasp. Joaquin's arms encircle your waist and pull you in his embrace. Your arms rest around his neck, nestling your head against his shoulder.

You hold each other tightly in a moment of calm, seeking comfort from that person. The one person you would always seek out.

You pull away, but his arms remain around your waist.

"You're so beautiful.", He whispers.

Your breathing shudders for a second before you decide to go for it,

"I-I love you, Joaquin."

You gauge his reaction as his eyes widen slightly. He leans in and guides his lips to yours. He kissed you slowly and passionately, his hands still gripping your waist. You sigh and stand on your tip-toes, tugging the hairs on the back of Joaquin's neck to bring him closer. You both pause, gasping for air for a moment. Kisses linger in between breaths as you both wind down from the intense 24 hours you've had, emotionally and physically.

"For the record, I love you too.", He grins, laughing at your eye roll.

"I didn't quite catch that, why don't you show me again?", You winked, biting your lip as his arms swooped around you again and tugged you closer.

Barely brushing your lips, he looks between your eyes and then your lips.

"I think we can arrange that."

Your breath catches as your lips brush his. You smiled, closing your eyes, as does Joaquin. You swayed in his arms as his lips encased yours once more.

Suddenly, red and blue flashing lights breach your vision from below. Sirens surrounded you both. You separated, glancing outside the broken window.

Police cars surrounded the building. Reinforcements had arrived. His hand still grips yours and you motion to help him take some of his weight, wrapping an arm around his waist.

"We should get of here.", You pushed open the door to exit down a flight of stairs.

"Yeah.", Joaquin replied, grinning down at you as you walked out together.

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dingdongitsbees · 4 years ago

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Gojo is a strong person | Gojo x gn!reader oneshot (Angst)

Synopsis: Gojo is the strongest, that was an agreed upon fact, or at least he thought it was until he met you.

The first time you had laid eyes upon him, you laughed.

“This is almighty Gojo Satoru, huh?”

Ao3 Link

WC: 3k Tw: canon typical violence, death Just send an ask to be added to Gojo taglist! (specify if you don’t want angst etc)

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Gojo Satoru is a strong person, that’s what everyone knew. That fact was known by every shaman that had had their first breath and by anyone that laid their eyes on him, even if only for a split moment in the bustling crowds of Tokyo. It was a fact that the man knew himself, it could hardly be called egotistical if it was simply the truth that he was the strongest, though he toed the line of cocky so much that he had fully passed its threshold far before he even attended school. But his parents and his clan and the servants that worked there never gave him anything else to think.

He was better than them by the time he had first opened his eyes. He was a man whose mere existence disrupted the world so chaotically that any possible adversary would tremble at the mere thought of facing him. Gojo Satoru is the strongest, that was an agreed upon fact, or at least he thought it was until he met you.

The first time you had laid eyes upon him, you laughed.

“This is almighty Gojo Satoru, huh?”

He was stunned. People rarely smiled at him, only when trying to please him or gain something from him, laughs and giggles became shushed when he came near. Never had he heard such a clear laugh from someone aware of his presence, let alone laughing at him.

And like you had expected his frozen form, you gave him a knowing look and a smile. “I look forward to getting to know you, Satoru.”

To say that he was enamoured by you by the moment your smile reached your crinkling eyes was an understatement.

His high school years began and never had he felt more challenged in his life. He was the strongest, that still rung true, but until then he had never felt a desire to prove it, a desire to impress. His ideals and methods were questioned and criticised, his techniques scrutinised and forced to improve and adapt. His teachers, Getou, Shoko, even the younger students like Nanami, all challenged him.

Prove to us that you are the strongest. We will not accept a statement like that at face value. Prove it.

Now get better.

But none of them came close to you. You hounded him at every open opportunity, around every corner. And oh, did he welcome it. You’d challenge him to fights, lose almost every time, but always find something he did badly or should have done that he would obsess over for the days and weeks to come. You’d think of new ways for him to apply his techniques and go further beyond anyone that had inherited Infinity, aiding him reach potentials he didn’t even think existed or that he needed. You’d come back with an argument to anything and everything you disagreed with, answers he couldn’t look past or debunk, forcing him into a state of reflection which his parents had deprived him of.

Gojo Satoru was the strongest, but he learned very quickly that he wasn’t perfect.

He continued to change; adapt to everything you threw at him. His cocky attitude stayed carved in stone, his laughs at the weak were never missed, but he looked forward in excitement. He had never had that before you. His life path was laid out perfectly for him since birth, a life he had never asked for he once said. And you had replied.

“Then why are you following it? You’re the strongest, aren’t you? Then do what you want, no one can stop you.”

He soon realised that the flutters his heart experienced as he laid down in the grass next to you, staring up at the stars, was not just his heart stuttering at the beauty of the universe. His heart imploded whenever your fingers came close to his, subtle shoulder touches from passing in the corridors, laughs at his jokes that would get you into stitches, smiles that seemed to lighten his heart and drop his stomach like a rollercoaster, and eyes that stared into his soul.

And you knew, oh by god you knew what effect you had on him. You were no fool. But oh my, was it fun.

You had feelings for him too, you weren’t that cruel, and you knew that he knew that too. But you weren’t going to jump headfirst into a boy who couldn’t differentiate between what he wanted, and what he was expected to want. Who he was, and who he was supposed to be.

One night, like many nights before, you laid on his bed together, chips and chocolates and any wrappers of sweets he had impulsively bought surrounding you two. And that night he turned to you, question hesitant on his lips.

“What do you think of me? Who do you think I am?”

You pursed your lips, tilting your head towards him, thinking of what to say but you already knew the answer the moment he asked.

“You’re Satoru,” you said, a grin taking up half your face. “You’re just Satoru.”

He would never admit it, but he cried that night, he cried hard. And he wouldn’t have to worry, because you expected this of him, of course you did, you always did, and you held him. You held him as tight as you possibly could, as tight as you could hold a lonely boy crushed by the weight of the world that he never volunteered to lift. He was Atlas, but you were next to him, helping hold the world on your shoulders, even if you were scared that it would crush your shoulders into splinters, never would you have mentioned it.

The two of you continued to dance to the song that the pair of you had been listening to for years, waiting for one to take the step forward, to dip the other into no return. Dance the dance that had been safely done with a metre in between the two of you, not wanting to step on the other’s feet, not wanting to come in before the bridge started, not wanting to get the timing of the beat drop wrong. Things caused chaos around the ballroom that you danced in, friends lost to death or to wars of morals and ideals, faith lost in elders meant to protect you but instead fetishized tradition, guidance into the adult world being left in the air. But the two of you continued to dance, getting incrementally closer to each other, breath reaching skin, fabrics tripping over each other, but never quite close enough to feel the other, always a hair width away.

And like you had expected, like you had waited patiently for, he stepped closer, bridging the gap between the two of you. A smile stayed on your lips as he pressed his mouth to yours gently, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks in greeting. Satoru had finally become him. Not the shaman that was whispered between hands, the sorcerer who elders expected great things from, not just the strongest. He was Satoru, and that was as perfect as he was ever going to be, and as perfect as you wanted him.

Years passed and not even for a moment could you be bored when existing in the same world as Gojo Satoru. Every day was something new, something to tease about the other, another sign of affection that would make the other’s heart stumble, another reason to fall even more irrevocably in love.

You stood by his side with everything he stood for, staying grounded and as a point of reference of what he wanted this world to be. The world he wanted you to be able to live in. You argued by his side when trying to revoke death wishes that were put on Itadori, giving a smile to the higher ups when he insinuated the length he would go to in order to get the world of his own design. You would be slitting throats next to him before he had the chance to ask and everyone knew it.

Your name was whispered beside his now, one couldn’t be mentioned without mentioning the other. The strongest and the tamer. The one that had incapsulated every corner of Gojo Satoru’s heart and would never leave. The one that the man would burn down the world for if it dared to insult the love of his life, and the two of you would just smile through the flames.

Good and evil is relative, but neither compares to the terrifying ordeal yet comfort of being known by someone else through and through. Every pore and freckle and hair studied by the other until they know the other’s face and soul better than they know their own.

Satoru was only ever approached when you were away on a mission. There was no chance of compromise or pushing when you were in the vicinity. You knew what he wanted, and you wouldn’t settle for anything less than. Gojo Satoru was the strongest, but you had him happily in your hands at your mercy and direction, you were the scariest.

So it was no surprise to either of you as your missions were set far away from each other and at the most inopportune times. You barely had anytime to look in his eyes let alone talk of creating the world together like gods. But if they thought that mere curses would separate the two of you, they were fooling themselves. No amount of time, nothing the other could do, would ever stop the tyrannical love you held for each other, nothing would be allowed to get in the way.

Every night the other came home, they would hold the other’s cheeks in their hands softly, letting their love’s head surrender to gravity. You wouldn’t need to say a word, and neither would he, just quietly in your world for another moment before the other would inevitably have to leave. You would figure it out, the two of you always did, you would eventually get the world you talked about in the company of the stars like you had since you were teenagers.

When you got the call of your next mission you frowned. It seemed off, a special grade that had been spotted in Osaka, nothing you hadn’t dealt with before, but the slight stutter of the caller rang alarm bells in your head. As you packed for your mission Satoru stared at you from the other side of the living room, reading you.

“How bad?” he asked, his blue eyes caressing your face gently, a book on his chest he had long abandoned to just watch you.

“Just a special grade but…” you started.

“It feels wrong?”

You nodded. Asking him to come with you was out of the question for multiple reasons, both of you worked better alone, leaving no risk of the other getting harmed by a technique, Satoru had a lot on his plate already, caring for students and attempting to research and protect his students from the special grades that had begun popping up. And well, you were capable, this was something you knew how to do and had done for years. But still, at the back of your mind, it was screaming at you to run, to take the man in front of you and just run.

But you didn’t.

Instead, the two of you swayed in your kitchen together to silent music, his arms holding you tightly, afraid you would be stolen from him. You held your ear to him, his heartbeat calming down your neurons that were lighting fires in your brain. You stayed there for a little eternity, intoxicated with the other’s touches and love, but soon you picked your bag up from the kitchen counter, and gave him a soft and slow kiss. His eyes looking down at you half-lidded, drunk on the person in front of him, euphoric he got to be called yours. He watched as you left, your eyes catching his through the closing gap, giving him that knowing look and smile you always had.

It was worse that had been described in the report, far worse. The paper was practically a list of lies. You wished you could call for back up, to call for Satoru, but there was literally no time. The moment you arrived the scene was already in chaos, people getting eaten and dismembered like playthings by not one, but three special grades.

People weren’t listening to your directions, practically running into the mouths of the curses, several lower grade ones had come as well, as if called, making everything so much harder. You were in the middle of the war zone, trying to kill lower grades that were seconds away from killing a civilian, getting people out of there and to run, and fighting the special grades that didn’t give you a moment to breathe. Adults' limbs were torn off of them as they screamed to be helped, kids' heads exploded as you held them under your arms. The special grades just laughed.

They had cut you down more times than you could count on the fingers you had left, you couldn’t differentiate the blood pouring down your body from the ones who had died around you. You had managed to kill two of the three special grades, but the other evaded everything with a wide grin, directing the other curses like an orchestra. A symphony of shattering bones and blood curdling screams filled your ears everywhere, inescapable.

A child, one that couldn’t have been older than four, ran to you, stumbling over their feet as they sobbed. The special grade geared up, charging their attack. You took a deep breath and calmly looked at the world in front of you for a moment, time slowing down. Your mouth twitched up at the ludicrousness of it all and looked to the sky you had spent a lifetime staring at.

Sorry Satoru, looks like I won’t be coming home.

You grabbed the child, and curled around it, protecting it as best as you could, and waited for impact.

There was no other answer to draw from your mission than the fact that the higher ups had sent you on a suicide mission, they knew you worked alone, they knew that there was a limit to even how much you could handle. Because after you all, you weren’t the strongest. You were the disposable one. They had sent you, but not just so you would be the one to crumble.

No. That’s all Gojo Satoru could think as he raced through the corridors, he didn’t want to believe it, he refused to believe it. There was no such timeline where you could be separated from him, it was simply not allowed. A reality that was forbidden from coming to fruition. He slammed open the doors to Shoko’s lab, teary eyes glanced up at him before looking to the ground. They surrounded a table in the middle of the floor, barring him from seeing. He just stared with wide eyes, looking insane, not a single thought that they would be able to read. But you would know, you would only have to take one look at him and you would know what he was thinking, because you would sit up and look him in the eyes with the smile that he had carved into his soul. You would, you had to.

The group parted slowly, giving him access to the metal table.

There you were, lying down in what had to be a deep slumber, eyes closed, looking as beautiful as you always did and would continue to be. You had to, you had to. He took a step closer, his hands trembling at his sides, he reached forward, touching your cold cheek, his shaking sending little waves across your skin.

Shoko stood next to him with red eyes. She reached up to touch his shoulder, but her hand froze, stopped by Infinity. Her eyes widened. He took no notice of her, not acknowledging her for even a second. Her hand curled into a fist and dropped, looking away with a wobbly breath.

He cupped his hand underneath your head, lifting you to his chest. It was a mystery of how he managed to keep you steady. Ever so slowly he picked up your whole body, walking out of the room. No one stopped him.

He refused to acknowledge what his six eyes were telling him. There was no way, no conceivable way, that you could have left him. You would never do that to him. You would never dare leave him all alone in this world, the world that hadn’t been theirs yet. There were so many things they had left to do. So many things they were meant to fix. So many more days left to love each other. So many more days where you were meant to look at him and just see him, just see Satoru. So, there was no way you left. You wouldn’t do that to him, right?

Gojo Satoru was a strong person, that’s what everyone thought. He was the strongest. But the sound that came out of him as he knelt in the dirt outside the building as his body wracked with sobs, cradling you to his chest desperately, haunted all the hearer’s waking and sleeping states. Their dreams stayed infected with it for weeks. He begged to the universe and to you, begging through screams. It was so loud. It was so excruciating. And it was so, so raw. It sounded like his vocal cords were being ripped apart, and they wouldn’t have been surprised if that came to be true.

Gojo Satoru was a strong person, that’s what everyone thought, but now they weren’t so sure.

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hb-writes · 3 years ago

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You’ve Always Been Naive

Summary: It’s 1925 in the Little Lady Blinder universe. After an epic row, Tommy allows Clara to stay more regularly on Watery Lane with a few conditions, one of which is a mid-week meeting at the Midland Hotel to check in.

Characters: Tommy Shelby & Clara (Shelby!Sister)

Content Warnings: canon-typical content, angst, (underage) drug use (requested by anon)

Tommy glanced up from his whiskey sour as his sister stepped up to the table, her face a deliberately neutral façade as she set a ledger down in front of him, a week's worth of academic work stuffed inside the front cover.

"Lizzie said you'll need that for tomorrow," Clara offered as she extracted the papers, placing them on top and pushing the pile towards him. "And here are the assignments you've asked for. If that's all, I have plans, so…"

Tommy watched her determination waver a bit as he raised a brow, her confidence retreating the longer she stood planted in front of him, the first she'd been directly in his presence for a little over a week.

A meeting at the Midland Hotel had been Tommy's idea. Clara had accepted the summons, accepted the hotel as a sort of neutral territory though it was in no way impartial. The hotel was Tommy's home more days than it wasn't, filled with a staff as loyal to his payment as the staff of Arrow House, loyal like the staff of the company, but the Midland's staff didn't know Clara Shelby as well as the others. They didn't have their claws in her, couldn't appeal to her on Tommy's behalf like the others did, like little Charlie did, or Ada, so when Tommy requested the midweek meeting as a condition of his allowing her to stay on the lane far more often than she did under his roof, Clara felt she had little option but to agree.

Tommy barely glanced at the things she'd set on the table, more interested in the fact that Clara hadn't yet found her seat, still standing across from him bundled in all the cloth that had protected her from the stinging wind and chill on the walk over, almost as if she was convinced the coat and scarf and gloves would protect her from him too.

"Take a seat."

"I already said I—"

"You're going to make a scene?"

Both of Tommy's eyebrows rose with the question, the words almost a dare, or perhaps better likened to a threat, and Clara glanced about the room only to determine that the Midland wasn't the proper place for a shouting match with her brother. Scheduling the meeting there was meant to keep the two of them in check, but Clara knew Tommy would show no hesitation in raising his voice back should she choose to make a go of it, settling her firmly in the place where he thought she belonged with a mere line or two.

Clara's cheeks warmed at the mere thought.

"That's what I thought." Tommy shifted, sitting up straighter in his chair, eyeing its empty match across the table. "Take a seat."

Clara remained in her spot, pulling her eyes from him as she forced her finger into the opening between her coat sleeve and glove to expose the delicate watch set on her wrist.

Lizzie's handwriting in her diary had marked her down to be at the Midland with Tommy from 6:00 to 7:00, but she's made herself quarter of an hour late by a bit of purposeful dawdling at the office followed by a bit of nervous pacing out front of the hotel that had left her with chilled toes and wind-chapped cheeks.

"I really can't see why I need to. You've seen I'm alive and well—" Clara gestured to the book and papers. "—You have the ledger, have proof I've been doing as I've been told, and I'm certain you've already gotten reports off of—"

"Take a seat."

Tommy finished his drink, the ice clattering against the glass as he set it on the table, all of the force that wasn't there in his voice focused into the gesture before he pulled the papers closer, thumbing through her work though he cared little to see the grades or completeness. He had little concern that Clara wouldn't hold up that end of the deal, her motivations in that arena extending beyond any guidelines he could set for her.

And anyway, Tommy already knew she'd been towing the line. He didn’t need the completed packet of school assignments to know she was following his rules. He didn’t need this encounter to know she was alright either, his curiosity on the matter fulfilled well enough through reports from Lizzie and Ada and Frances and Michael, his confidence bolstered by the lack of contact from the school. Even Finn’s first words to him in every meeting over the last week and a half had been about their sister.

People usually told him things, always had, seemed to give him what he needed in that respect without him having to ask after it, but Tommy didn’t always trust the word of the world. There were some things he preferred to see for himself, some questions he needed to hear the answer to while seeing the reaction on her face before she got the chance to put her clever words in the way.

Something about the power of the impending fourth request to take a seat, and the knowledge that it wouldn’t be as much of a request as it was an order coming from Tommy’s lips, helped Clara to lower herself into the chair across from her brother. She kept quiet while Tommy thumbed through her work, slipping the gloves from her hands and settling them on the table though she allowed herself to shed nothing more as she sat on the edge of the seat, her back straight, every muscle in her feeling taut and strained while she waited.

“You’ve been busy.”

Clara nodded. She had been busy, and she was quite certain her brother was at fault for that, accepting her being out from under his roof, but not out from under his thumb, ensuring she had more than enough to keep her busy, keeping her so occupied once she held up her end that all she wanted was her bed.

The worst part was Clara knew it. She knew this wasn’t really the freedom she was after, the distance she’d said she needed, but she couldn’t help herself when it came to meeting expectations. Clara was losing either way, but the fact that she kept trying bothered her brother, that she knew. That she’d rather adhere to his rule and work herself to death than live under his roof and play that game unsettled him.

People listened to Thomas Shelby for many reasons—because of his influence or his threats, because they hadn’t a choice. He imagined his siblings fell into the last category, left without much of a choice, but he’d always imagined the girls were a bit different. His brothers filed in line like the soldiers they were, but the girls weren’t soldiers. The girls had always seemed to be tied to him and his words in some other way, some sort of different understanding falling between the three of them, but with Clara especially. The understanding didn't seem to be there any longer though, replaced with the same soldiering that he'd seen with his brothers.

“I’ve been doing as I was told,” Clara offered.

“And what were you told?”

Clara huffed, settling back in the chair, her shoulders slumping at his question, something about him making her repeat it for him doing the work that his tone alone couldn’t.

Clara fixed her gaze out the windows in the front as the waiter approached the table.

"Anything for the young lady, Mr. Shelby?"

"Tea," he said, not pulling his eyes from his sister, her annoyance at the order he placed on her behalf clear in the twitch of her face though she stayed quiet until the man stepped away.

"I'm not staying, Tommy. I told you I have plans."

He tilted his watch face to check the time. “Not until seven.”

Clara seemed to accept that seeing as she didn’t fight him, settling a bit further into the chair, shifting her gaze out the window once again.

“So, back to doing as you’re told, then.”

Tommy raised his eyebrows, blinking at her long and slow though she’d met his gaze for only a short moment before turning her attention elsewhere, to watch people coming in through the front door.

“School assignments, exams, the company, Sunday dinners. Your meetings...and all of it’s up to par, Tommy. I’m—”

“And what about this?”

Clara stilled as he set the blue vial on the table, her pulse picking up as he left it there and sunk back into his own chair.

"Tommy!" she hissed, nearly reaching out her hand to knock it from the table, to remove it from such a clear view, but no one was watching them.

Tommy scoffed, leaning forward and closing the vial in his hand before pointing a finger at his sister. "I told you if there was any fucking nonsense, I'd bring you right back home."

"I am home," she answered. "Can't get more like home than Watery Lane."

Tommy's snort was so quiet Clara didn't even catch it and he nodded, leaning his chin on his hand as he sat back, his finger idly rubbing his jaw as he considered her. "You think you're clever."

"I am clever," Clara answered, unwinding the scarf from her neck, her eyes diverted as she focused on the meticulous folding of the fabric before she set the bundle on top of her gloves. "You've always said."

Tommy shook his head, the second snort almost leading to a smile before he cleared his throat, shifting his position again and rooting around for his cigarettes before he spoke.

"I'm not in the mood for it, Clara. You've been asking questions about things you have no business with and it stops now."

Tommy caught her eye roll as he lit the cigarette, couldn't miss it really, the way the gesture took over her whole expression, her whole body really, and he wondered whether she'd done it on purpose or if it was just a reflex.

Clara was inclined to do far more than roll her eyes at him, a whole queue of arguments settled at the leading edge of her tongue, every part of her except her lips prepared to fight him because everyone else was allowed a bit of snow for the simple fun of it, but Clara had a feeling voicing that argument wouldn't do well in the end. It would only serve to tell him what he somehow didn't yet know, that she hadn't simply asked her questions, that she'd also tried it for herself.

It had just been the one time, to quell some curiosity, a small indulgence, and even if it had helped her stay alert to get done what she'd needed to get done, Clara wasn't keen to try it again. Tommy had no need of knowing it, so she swallowed her arguments, swallowed her pride and distaste for the double standards that ruled her life.

"Fine, Thomas. I've heard you. You want me to stop asking questions. And Michael and Finn are loyal to you, not me. It's all understood, nothing for you to waste your precious time worrying over." She was sitting up straight in the chair once again, perched on the edge and eager to be out the door before the tea came. "Is there anything else?" she asked. "As I said, I do have other plans."

Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose, releasing an exhale before tapping the ash at the end of his cigarette into the tray between them and holding her gaze.

“You’ve never tried it, then?”

Clara opened her mouth and Tommy let out a hollow laugh before she could answer, the cigarette pointed in her direction once again.

“And don’t you fucking lie to me, Clara.”

His gaze was unblinking and Clara held onto it as long as she could manage, not even allowing herself to breathe for several moments as she stared back at him, a familiar strain falling between the two of them.

Clara allowed herself a small intake of breath, attempted to take in a little air before she'd find herself gasping for it, attempted to extend the standoff a bit longer, but her resolve crumbled with the exhale, Tommy's attack coming before she'd even finished the breath.

“You’re going back to Arrow—”

“No, I'm not. It was just the one—”

Tommy's laugh cut her off, set a silence between them as he took a drag off the cigarette. “If you believe that, you’re just being naive, always have—”

“Excuse me?”

“You're clever, but you’ve always been naive,” Tommy said. “And all you’ve done this evening is show me that that is still the case.” He cleared some ash into the tray.

“If the work’s too much, you cut out the fun with the boys. It’s something you kids don’t seem to understand.” He set his finger down into the pile, jabbing the folder of school assignments and the ledger with each word. “The business comes first.”

Clara scoffed, the force of it so gentle it was barely noticeable, and she glanced at her watch. “It’s five after,” she said, scooping her gloves and scarf into her arms as she stood, pushing her chair back in place.

Tommy nodded. “I want you at the house on Sunday…to see Charlie. We can finish this then."

"There’s nothing to finish," she answered, setting her gaze away from him as she wrapped the cloth around her neck and pulled her gloves from the table, fitting one hand inside. "See you Sunday."

Clara took a step away as she worked the other glove over her fingers and Tommy caught her elbow, his hold far more gentle than any of the words he'd tossed at her during their meeting, more gentle than his stares or the mock laughter.

A wetness grew in Clara's eyes and she stayed faced away from him for a moment as she tried to resolve the tears, swallowing hard, her arm going limp as Tommy's grip shifted, sliding down her arm to clasp her wrist.

Enough. That's what his hand on her wrist meant, a gesture Clara and Charlie used to ask for the end of any bit of play that had gone a bit too far, a signal that communicated when it was too much, a gesture Clara knew Tommy had been deliberate in choosing.

"Clara, I mean it. No more snow, alright? If something were to happen, I…"

His words sent a searing lump into her throat, that combined with the touch sending her mind down into a spiral of guilt and shame, and as much as Clara hated Tommy for his role in it, for having the power to do it, she hated herself just as well for succumbing to it, even more for ever stepping out of line to begin with, disappointed with herself and her choices even though everyone else did it.

Clara cursed her brother and his temperamental provision of care, the sparse deliverance of love, and his double standards, and then she’d cursed herself, cursed the expectations and rules she’d set on herself and everything about the relationship that existed between them. Clara pulled her hand loose, tugging her glove the rest of the way into place before she took a deep breath, her back still to her brother as she bid him farewell.

"I'll see you Sunday, Thomas."

500 Follower Celebration Masterlist

Little Lady Blinder (Peaky Blinders) Masterlist

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #shelby sister #shelby!sister #tommy shelby #clara shelby #little lady blinder #500 follower celebration #hb.writes angst #wednesday update

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hear-feel-think · 2 years ago

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FfxivWrite2022 | #30 - Sojourn

Rating: F for Feels G

Haurchefant x WoL. Ultima Thule.

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You feel lonelier than you ever have before. Your friends, who you love more than your own life, have accompanied you to the edge of reality, and have sacrificed themselves to give you a chance to save everyone. Many others await you, a universe away. You wish to be with them, but more than anything, you wish for the one man who had stood by you when all seemed lost, who had been the first to throw himself into danger for you. He paid the ultimate price for that loyalty long ago, and your heart aches all the more to have him by your side here at the end.

Spectral blues and aquamarines swirl in sheet-like clouds on the path ahead, until they start to coalesce before you. Boots, armored legs, thick leather gloves, a warm gambeson under a chainmail shirt. Silvery-blue hair falling over long ears. A face with a determined smile and loving eyes. "Hello, love," says the spectre.

You blink away tears. It couldn't be him, could it? Across all this distance, after all this time? "Haurchefant, is that really you?"

"Who else would I be?" He laughs, sweeping you up into a hug. The way he holds you tightly in his arms, pressing you to his chest, he certainly feels real. But he couldn’t be. Your strong emotions had manifested him, exactly as you remembered, out of the dynamis that abounds here.

"I have missed you so," says Haurchefant, holding you just as you remember.

"I miss you too, Haurchefant," you say, your lip trembling. Tears darken the yellow of his gambeson as they fall from your eyes. "I love you."

"I love you too," he says. "Would that you could stay with me." Your throat clenches. Will even he try to convince you to turn back, to give up hope? That isn't the Haurchefant you knew. If Meteion tarnishes his memory, you swear to Hydaelyn, Zodiark, and every one of the Twelve that you will have justice.

But the spectre continues. "Would that you could sojourn with me here for a time. But you must carry on, my love. You must stay determined. Hope is not lost, as long as you draw breath." He puts his hands on your shoulders and gently pushes you back from the hug so he can look in your face. His expression holds a dozen expressions - love, pain, hope, loss. You sniff and wipe your eyes, remembering his final words, and try to muster a smile for him. He laughs a proud laugh, and takes your hand.

Umbral wind howls through the ruins of the deserted city as you walk side by side with your long-lost love. Memories of those you have lost and those you can yet save float through the dynamis, helping you to stay strong in the face of nearly infinite despair, but none so much as Haurchefant’s presence beside you and his hand in yours. As you climb an iridescent bridge, you think about what comes next, focussing your mind for the fight ahead, and you feel him getting thinner and thinner. You stop at the top and turn to him. “Don’t go,” you plead.

Haurchefant smiles a sad smile, his form already becoming transparent. “Though I can walk with you, I cannot fight by your side. Go, my love. There is much still to be done.” He steps back, letting his hand slip from yours. You reach for him, but he dissipates into dynamis before your eyes.

It stings like you are losing him again for the first time. Tears roll down your cheeks. You take time to collect yourself, and turn to face your destiny. He was right, after all. A smile better suits a hero.

#ffxiv #endwalker #ffxivwrite2022 #Haurchefant #Haurchefaunt x WoL #fanfic #hey look I wrote a fic!#I did it! I completed the challenge!#(As of where I started anyway. And I did enough make-up days to count for all of it if you include extra credit fics)#Next step: Edit and post to Ao3 lol

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mingoyeob-archive · 3 years ago

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45 and 78 with jungkook pls🥺(Btw i love your writing and take your time for part 3☺️)

under the oak tree drabble game ⚔️🌳 to make up for my delayed release of part 3 of under the oak tree i’ve decided to do a drabble game! send me a number + any of the characters from under the oak tree and i’ll write you a drabble :)

hi thank you guys so much for requesting and also for being patient with me anon! I combined these two asks because you both asked for 78 so other anon you get a little something extra haha! I hope you enjoy <3

45: “Take.It.Off” + 78. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to get any more gorgeous” - jjk x reader - word count: 1.4k

Around the castle people buzzed and shuffled, zipping past one another like moving pieces in a well organized machine. The sound of numerous conversations and orders being shouted from left and right was only beaten out by the loud rushing water from outside, heavy drops of water hitting newly installed stain glass windows and ringing off like canons. Rain was nothing new to the occupants of Uwhen and not even the downpour outside could stop the bustling maids and the boisterous knights that littered every hall. So it was to Jungkook's surprise when he heard the noise come to a halt, turning his head to follow the direction of everyone's gaze trained on the main entrance. His eyes fell upon the distressing, albeit slightly amusing, sight of you standing drenched from head to toe, looking akin to a shaggy dog he had once seen fall into a river as a young boy.

It wasn’t your fault of course, this was your first rainy season after all. Sure there were a few cloudy days and drizzles that happened here and there but for the most part Aster was typically a sunny land with what seemed like never ending summers. So how were you expected to know that during this time storms came through quicker than the drop of a hat, nose untrained to picking up the fresh scent of lingering salty rain that was always a tell-tale sign of what was coming. And by the time you were able to feel the light drops of water landing on the top of your head it had already been too late and the next thing you knew you were trudging through thick mud, struggling to pull the train of your dress and walk with the weight of your heavy petty coat holding you down.

“Y/N!” Jungkook exclaimed and rushed over to you in only a few strides. His hands found themselves landing on your shoulders as he worriedly looked you over, eyes full of concern. He could feel you shaking under his fingertips. “What the hell happened to you, my love?”

You could only gaze up at him through wet lashes, lips set heavily in a pout. You could tell he was waiting for you to answer but you were too caught up with the fact that everyone had stopped to stare at the pair of you. Too afraid to sound like a fool, you had no intention of explaining yourself out here in the open, only letting out a small whimper as you huddled your arms close to yourself to stave off the cold. Jungkook noticed your hesitation, head whipping around to glare at the onlookers who had stopped to see what all the commotion was about. “Fucking hell- what are you all looking at!? Get back to work!”

Like a flip was switched, the noises returned and everyone went back to rushing past each other. All except your hand maiden who came running over the minute she saw a clear path over to your dripping figure. “Lady y/n! Let me get you back to your bed chambers and I’ll run you a fresh bath and get you a new pair of clothes and-”

“No need.” Jungkook had brushed past the maid, arm locked heavily around your frame as he started escorting you back to your room, not even sparing her a glance. “I can do all of that perfectly fine on my own.”

She sputtered and followed hastily behind you two, “But- but sir! Are you sure you don’t wan’t-” Jungkook's steely eyes had her mouth clamping shut and she stopped dead in her tracks. “Of course, my apologies. Please let me know if you need anything else, my lord.” She didn’t even wait for a reply before bowing and leaving in a hurry.

Jungkook merely grunted and continued walking the two of you up the staircase, your graze trained behind you as you watched your hand maiden scurry away. “You didn’t have to be so rude, you know.” You muttered, letting out a small hmph. Jungkook just gazed down at you briefly before pretending as if he didn’t hear your snarky comment. Though you swore you saw the hint of a smile twitch at the corner of his lips.

Upon arriving at the room, Jungkook had immediately pushed you into the center of the room, broad shoulders looming more than a few inches over you just an arms reach away. He sighed slowly and crossed his arms, “Take it off.”

You deadpanned, “What?” you say. You had heard what he said, but you hoped he wouldn’t say it again. That hope was mistakenly misplaced.

“I said take your clothes off. They’re soaking wet and you’ll get sick.” Jungkook said, talking as if this whole thing was just a giant nuisance. His facial expression was cold (as usual), so it was hard to really tell if he was serious or not (also very usual). “Once you undress I’ll give you a bath-”

“No no I’m fine! Haha no need for that, yup completely fine.” Your attempt at passing off the situation in an effort to avoid his offer was very unconvincing. “It’s not even that cold, I’ll dry off soon.” That was a lie. You were freezing, Jungkook could practically hear your teeth chattering as you spoke.

You were obviously uncomfortable with his request. He wasn’t mad, in fact, he completely understood. Despite being married for 3 years (most of it being spent apart except for one short night), he had only ever seen you naked once. At least in real life it was only once, his dreams were a completely different story.

Jungkook just shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, “Y/N…” he let out a sound of annoyance and took a deep breath to compose himself before dropping his hand and fixing you with a steely glare. He hated having to get stern with you. “Take.it.off.”

This time you could definitely tell he was serious and your nervous smile immediately dropped, replaced quickly by a look of defeat. You knew you had lost this time so there was no point in trying to push off the inevitable so instead you just sighed and began undoing your corset, Jungkook standing quiet as he watched. You could practically hear a pin drip, the room was so silent. It was deafening.

When Jungkook saw your fingers get to the last loop, he waited with bated breath. Finally, he thought, he really had to talk to someone about making your dresses less complicated to get off (for your convenience, of course). He watched you gulp just as the cord was set free and then stared transfixed as the material fell, pooling around your ankles. If he wasn’t already holding his breath, he would’ve choked. His dreams were doing you absolutely no justice.

By now your face was on fire, heat feeling your cheeks to the point you no longer even felt cold. And Jungkook's stare was only making it worse, your head filling with so many nervous ramblings and worries. Have I gotten fat since he last saw me? And was that stretch mark always there? Wait, when did my thighs get so big?

“I didn’t think it was possible for you to get any more gorgeous.” your breath caught in your throat. Jungkook had whispered the words completely in awe, irises finally filled with something other than stony resistance (dare you say, love?). You don’t know how, but for some reason those simple words had all your insecurities fading away, at least for the time being. Because the way he looked at you in this moment, it didn’t matter if you had gained a stretch mark or two, cause you knew he would still see you as nothing less than beautiful.

It was hard for you to say exactly how he was feeling since he didn’t say much else before turning around to head into the bathroom (presumably to run that bath that he mentioned earlier), but for someone who was a man of a few words, just one sentence could mean a thousand. And you hoped he would stay with you long enough for you to hear a thousand more.

#drabble game #bts #under the oak tree #jungkook #jungkook drabble #jungkook fluff #knight jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic

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amiedala · 3 years ago

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SOMETHING DEEPER

CHAPTER 11: Devour Me

RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY!!!)

WARNINGS: canon-compliant violence, sexual content, rough sex, mentions of past abuse, voyeurism, public sex, men being extremely creepy (it needs to be said. they're gross and weird in this chapter. but Nova kicks their asses i swear)

SUMMARY: Nova’s eyes flutter open. There’s a current running through her, and the buzz of it is making her reckless. “What would you do?” she asks, feeling like all the air in the cockpit has evaporated, “if Sparmau had me instead?”

Din leans forward. The ragged sigh dragged out through the modulator sounds both divine and unholy. Nova feels herself get sucked in like a magnet, energy matching energy. “There aren’t enough weapons in the galaxy to use on someone who stole you away from me.”

If you're a newcomer, my fic "Something More" is the first installment of this story! <3

AUTHOR’S NOTE: HAPPY SOMETHING DEEPER SATURDAY EVERYONE!!! i'm not going to lie to you...i wrote 99% of this chapter in a horny haze LMAO, and i think it's a contender for some of the steamiest smut i've written ;) with that being said, though, PLEASE check the content warnings above (& let me know if anything else needs to be tagged!!) HOPE YOU LOVE IT AND ARE DRAGGED DOWN TO THE DEPTHS OF THIS HELL WITH ME! more notes at the end, and PLEASE leave your comments below!!

Nova’s still on the floor of the ship, reeling. Everything feels disconnected. Her heart is knocking an unsteady rhythm somewhere in her chest, but right now it feels like it’s thumping in her throat.

“We need to go back to Mandalore,” Nova whispers, but she’s not sure if she’s saying the words out loud. Din is on the comm, trying to call back Koska, or maybe hail Wedge and the rest of the Alliance, or to get Cara and Greef Karga on board, but Nova’s head is in her hands, still pounding from the visions, trying to figure out where Bo-Katan could have been taken—and who could have taken her—and she can’t breathe right. “Din!” she hisses, and her husband whirls around on his beskar heels, a wild expression in his eyes. “We need to go back to—”

“No,” he interrupts, “I’m not bringing you back there. That’s where Bo-Katan was taken—no, you’re not setting foot on Mandalore again. Taking you there was reckless of her.”

Nova stares at him. “She told you, twice, that she needed you there, not following me to the deserted Holy City. Something, or someone, was after her—”

Din stares down at her. So quickly that Nova can’t seem to really clock what he’s doing until it’s over, he’s squatting in front of her, his furious, gorgeous face only inches from her own. “You needed me. Bo-Katan was adamant about you going. I followed you, like I promised to do—like I vowed to do. You can’t get mad at me for that.” There’s something dangerous in his voice.

“I am not mad at you,” Nova enunciates, her voice hushed, trying to enunciate every word, “I’m saying there was something dangerous coming for her on Mandalore, and she tried to warn us, and we both left.”

Din’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t say another word. For a second, the two of them sit in the crush of hyperspace, no noise emitted except for the low hum of the starfighter’s engine. Abruptly, too suddenly, Din pushes himself back up to his feet.

“What are you doing?” Nova breathes, feeling them hurtle through warp, finally finding enough energy to push herself back to her feet, too. She can see the nav system out of the corner of her eye, and the ship has already gotten them to the edge of the Mid Rim. They’ll be back in the vicinity of Mandalore in another hour, tops. “Din, who are you calling?”

When he looks over his shoulder, Nova sees the grim set of his jaw. “Slave I and her full crew,” Din says, gravelly. “We need the big guns.”

This time, Hoth feels frigid. It’s not a welcoming home kind of visit, and it’s certainly not revitalizing. Nova and Din don’t talk as they soar back through the planet’s atmosphere. Every part of Din is so rigid, pulled taut like a tripwire. Nova watches him out of the corner of her eyes, trying to figure out where Bo-Katan was taken. She absently slides her fingernail between her teeth, forgetting all about her internal promise to stop biting her nails. The stars contract and expand as they slide in and out of warp, and when Hoth’s icy exterior is on the horizon, something in Nova’s chest tightens.

Wedge looks awful. Nova hasn’t seen him this exhausted since the Empire was still in power, and she falls into his hug, trying to coax him back to life. His spine is so straight, but his shoulders crumple at her touch. When she pulls away, there’s a steely, determined glint in his eyes.

Still, no one speaks. The three of them—Rebel, Jedi, and Mand’alor—walk through the airlock doors, down the frozen halls, and spread out into the war room. Nova looks up as they enter, and two familiar faces—one helmeted, one not—greet them. Fennec’s cold smile reminds Nova so much of Bo-Katan’s, and her heart lurches.

“Hi,” Nova whispers, and Fennec reaches over to squeeze her shoulder. It’s the softest gesture she’s ever shown, and a small grin stretches across Nova’s face in spite of the situation. Boba walks over, and after regarding her for a long moment, he pulls Nova against his armor, a bone crushing hug.

“How are you, kid?” he asks, and his voice is gruff, like he hasn’t used it in a while. Or like he’s never used it to be comforting before, Nova doesn't know.

Nova feels tears well up in the backs of her eyes, but she grits her teeth and refuses to let them fall. “You know,” she manages, shoving her shaking hands in her jacket pockets, “worried about my friend.”

She can feel Boba Fett regarding her underneath the visor, but Nova doesn’t wilt or falter under it. She’s married to a Mandalorian. She’s well practiced in the art of intimidation.

“Bo-Katan Kryze is your friend now?” Fennec asks, and Nova breaks her staring contest with Boba’s visor to look over at where her sharp, razored voice is coming from. She can feel Din’s heavy stare fixated on the back of her neck.

“Yeah,” Nova says, shifting. “Yeah, she’s my friend.”

“Funny.” Fennec cocks her head at Nova, looking her up and down, taking careful stock at the varied pieces of beskar armor that still cling to her clothes. “I didn’t think Bo-Katan had any friends.”

“Well, it’s kind of a new development,” Nova offers, and Fennec raises a sharp eyebrow, but she stands down. “I—I don’t know where she is,” Nova says, louder, addressing the whole room, “but I think I may know who took her.”

Everyone’s eyes are on her. Nova shivers, wishing she’d thought to grab a blanket before coming in here. She’s wearing her Rebel parka, but her legs are still frozen through. Hoth’s base is considerably warmer than the outside, but outside the temperature is below freezing. Inside, you need layers. At the very least. Nova’s toes are freezing inside of her boots.

“What happened?” Wedge’s voice is hoarse and odd. Nova looks over at her old friend, trying to figure out if he’s just taking Bo-Katan’s kidnapping really hard, or if something else has been going on this whole time that she was utterly oblivious to. “When you left to go to Mandalore? I thought you were with her.”

Nova swallows. “We were,” she manages, eyes hyper focused on the tuft of ice she’s dug the toe of her boot into. “But something changed. I don’t know what, but she was scared. And unkempt. And she told me I had to go to Jedha immediately.” Nova drags a hand over her tired face. “I—that was this morning,” she moans, muffled against the buffer of her palm, “and it feels like a lifetime ago. She told me a few days before that she needed me to go to Jedha and retrieve something for her. Immediately. And her instructions were to go alone, but—” Nova cuts herself off, gaze sliding over to Din.”

“I refused to let Nova go alone,” Din says. His voice is measured and dark. “She can’t go into dangerous places unprotected after…” Now it’s his turn to trail off. Everyone’s eyes are on Din, even Boba’s, who’s taken off his helmet to regard the both of them.

Nova sighs, Blearily, she steps forward, pushing a cold finger against the power switch on the holotable. It illuminates the whole room—the icy walls, their own silhouettes—blue. It takes a minute for the holotable to completely boot up, but when it does, she projects the picture of her face, the bounty glimmering to the five of them, the words ANDROMEDA MALUEV shouting out from the holotable. Nova sets her jaw against the reminder of who she used to be, crossing her arms over her frozen chest, ignoring the MURDER, MURDER, MURDER blinking below. “Someone uploaded this to the Guild,” Nova begins, tiredly. “Cara’s been trying to figure out exactly how that happened. But I’ve been targeted since the second I got to Mandalore. Not just by the citizens of the planet, but by this woman in my dreams.” She inhales, bracing herself, and then Nova flicks the screen over to where Ladmeny Sparmau’s portrait is instead. “At first, it was just visions. Then...she started to be able to hurt me in them, like whatever damage she inflicted followed me over into real life. I almost died back on Mandalore, right before we disappeared. I thought then that it was only me who she could touch.” Nova looks over at Din, who’s still standing, tall and immovable, still in her periphery. “Then she started to be able to hurt Din, too.”

Fennec’s expression is murderous. Nova swallows.

“I stayed here, on Hoth, and Din and Bo-Katan pretended I was dead,” Nova continues, biting down on her bottom lip, hard. “It was easier for Mandalore to trust him that way, to accept him as their Mand’alor. They don’t like Jedi, there,” Nova tacks on, a slightly sour afterthought, “and when Din returned without me, it was easier for them to see him as their ruler. We went to Dantooine to access the Alliance archives, to try and figure out who the woman in my dreams was.” Nova looks over to Wedge, who still looks war-torn. “We tried to get back here, to Hoth, so I could still stay undercover, but...Bo-Katan intervened.”

Boba’s expression is unreadable. “She knows that woman,” he says, finally, and Nova’s gaze shoots right over to him, nodding. “The one in your dreams. Doesn’t she?”

“How do you—?”

“I know her, too,” Boba interrupts, darkly. “Not well. Only in stories. I’ve never met her, but I know her name and the legends of what she could do.” His eyes find Nova’s throat, which is conveniently wrapped up in that same shawl that Bo-Katan pulled over her shoulders, a kind of armor before armor.

Nova’s thumbnail finds her teeth again. “Bo-Katan does, too,” she admits. Nova hesitates. She’s not sure if it’s her place to outwardly admit their romantic entanglement, but the insinuation slips out before she can stop it. “They have a...history.”

Wedge reacts like he’s been electrocuted. “Maker above,” he mutters, and his tone is so seething that it sounds like a curse. Nova looks at him. She doesn’t have to explain it any further. Wedge knows what it means, and he’s furious that someone that Bo-Katan once loved could do this to her. Even though she knows it would upset the order of things, Nova’s heart aches for Luke to be here. She knows that he and Wedge have their own history, and that Luke left the Outer Rim for good, and that it might take a miracle sent from above to ever get him back here, but Nova’s so tired of being in charge. She wants a real Jedi here, not the half-formed Force wielding version that she’s stuck in. For the first time today, Nova just wants to shrink back down to nothing. She wants Bo-Katan back. She wants to be back out there in the stars before Din won the Darksaber, before he left her at all, before the impending threat of Gideon and the First Order and Ladmeny Sparmau and all the assured destruction to follow. She’s so tired of fighting against an enemy that can gut every single person Nova cares about without touching them at all.

She drags another hand over her tired eyes, pressing hard enough to make stars explode. Nova tunes back into the conversation, dragging her eyes away from the horrible portrait of her bounty portrayed up on the screen, forcing herself to look at the other people in the room.

“We’ll help you,” Boba says, and it sounds the kind of vow only Mandalorians make. A binding contract kind of promise, thick with intent.

Din nods under his helmet. “I need to go back to Mandalore. Will you come with me?”

Nova’s breath catches in her throat. She knows that Boba Fett is the ruler of his own sort of kingdom back on Tatooine, and that his feud with the rest of the Mandalorians runs longer and deeper than how long she’s been alive. Boba Fett hates Bo-Katan,and hates what Mandalore has become underneath her reign.

But somehow, despite all of this, despite every single reason not to, Boba nods. “I can’t offer you much. And I can’t promise I won’t start a fight. But we’ll do what we can.” He looks over at Fennec, who’s standing next to him like a snake poised to strike, and she rolls her eyes, but after a pregnant pause, she offers that same quick nod.

“What the hell,” she says. “Why not. I’m sure the people of Mandalore will be thrilled to see us again.”

Nova knows that Fennec’s tone is dripping with sarcasm, but Din’s shoulders relax, just for a second. “We should go,” he says, finally, and he looks over at Nova, his guard back up. She wants to close the distance between them, to step into his magnetic pull and feel his arms close around her, a buffer against all of this suffering. She knows she can’t, not here, not now, especially because they don’t have much time to waste. If Ladmeny Sparmau took Bo-Katan—and Nova’s positive she did, she can feel it in her bones—then every second spent here, not looking for her, is a second wasted. Her throat aches as she nods up at Din, the universal signal of the day. His gloved hand reaches out and rests against Nova’s cheek. It’s only for a second, a fleeting flash of a moment, but she leans into it, pretending it’s his open palm, skin on skin.

“I know,” she mouths, and Nova’s not sure if she's referring to the fact that they need to leave and she needs to stay on Hoth, or if she’s referring to Din’s silent apology and the undercurrent reminder of his love, but when he pulls away from her, she can feel how badly he doesn’t want to. She touches her finger to the beskar band on her left hand, offering him a sad, quiet smile. “Go.”

When they leave, Hoth feels even colder. Nova stands in silence with Wedge, who has barely moved this entire conversation. She wants to ask him what’s wrong, but it’s a gaping maw of a million things, and Novalise is terrified of making that chasm even wider. Quietly, she reaches forward and clicks off the holotable, leaving both of them silent in the low light. Nova can feel the energy he’s putting off, and she has to keep biting down on her tongue to not speak of it aloud.

For what feels like ages, Nova and Wedge stand there, side by side, in solidarity. She closes her eyes, trying to envision anything that will pull him out of whatever hole he dived into headfirst, but she doesn’t know if it’ll pull him in deeper.

Finally, Nova’s hands find her Rebel necklace. Even in the darkness of the room, the silver glints across the low slants of light that filter in through the cracked door and the panels installed on the ceiling. Wedge’s eyes find hers, and for a second, Nova holds them, trying her best not to cry.

“I was with your mother when she got that,” Wedge says, his voice low. Nova’s heartbeat accelerates, blinking at him. He sighs. “The original one. The one she gave you. It was just the two of us, way back in the day, after I first defected from the Empire and joined the Alliance. It was before she and your dad started dating.” A small smile dances across his face. “He was crazy about her. The second they met, he was telling anyone who would listen that Piper Leour’i was going to marry him someday.”

Nova feels her eyes well up with tears again, but this time, she doesn’t force them away. “Love at first sight, huh?”

“Well,” Wedge says, looking slightly to the right of Nova’s face, like he’s caught up and lost in the memory of it all, “For him, anyway. For weeks, she didn’t know who he was. When they finally did meet, your dad made an absolute fool of himself, trying to impress her with his flying skills and his linguistic work, but he was so nervous that he spilled his drink all over the both of them and then left without introducing himself.”

“Oh,” Nova says, smiling, “so he’s where I get all my clumsiness from.”

“Oh, definitely,” Wedge agrees, running a hand through his slowly greying hair. “But apparently he translated something for her, something she needed for her mapmaking or her architecture work, and just left it on her desk. She didn’t know who Arokel Maluev was, but that’s when she became smitten.” Wedge grins, and it’s in such sharp contrast to the sunken expression he was wearing earlier that it makes Nova’s heart ache. “The two of us were sent out together, me and your mom, and the whole time, she was talking about Arokel the mystery man, the suave linguist who knew exactly what she was looking for. It took a crash landing on Bracca and having to work together to salvage parts for our junky starfighter for me to break the news to her that her crush on the linguist who wrote her romantic notes and figured out every translation she needed, was also the man who spilled his spotchka all over her favorite shirt.”

Despite everything, Nova laughs. It’s such a foreign noise in the darkness that it makes her heart ache, and she looks over at Wedge, fingers pressing to her necklace. “Smooth was one thing my dad wasn’t.”

“No,” Wedge agrees, sighing, “no, Arokel was not a smooth man.”

Nova tucks a lock of rogue hair underneath her shawl, drawing the warmth against her face, trying to trap it there to keep the cold out. “When did she get the necklace?”

Wedge looks over at her, sideways. “We got back from the mission, and the first thing she wanted to do was find your father and thank him. He was waiting in the landing bay with that necklace, and he wanted to ask your mom to be his girlfriend.”

Nova presses down on the charm. It’s identical to the one that she gave to Grogu, but she wants the original one back, wants to wear the same chain that dangled from her mother’s neck. “And she said yes?”

Wedge grins. “No,” he says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, “he was too scared to ask her, so Piper took it into her own hands and asked him first.”

For a second, just a tiny pearl of a moment, both of them stand there in the memory, and then Nova’s crying.

“Rebel girl,” Wedge starts, and Nova shakes her head, using the heel of her hand to wipe the traitorous tear away from where it’s streaking down her left cheek.

“I am so tired of losing people,” Novalise whispers, and before she can continue, Wedge has crossed the distance between the two of them and pulls her against him, into a bone-crushing hug. She doesn’t fight it, just clings to the back of his orange jumpsuit like it’s her lifeforce.

“We’re going to get Bo-Katan back,” Wedge whispers into her ear, and Nova nods against his shoulder. He’s tall—not anywhere Din’s height, but a head or two above her—and it reminds Nova so much of the bear hugs her father used to crush her in that she has to hold onto Wedge’s shoulder blades to not crumple into the icy floor. “I promise.”

Nova pulls away, still forcing back giant, wracking sobs. She looks up at Wedge. “Don’t make promises you can't keep,” she manages.

Wedge stares back down at her. “Never have,” he says, finally, “never will. You think Bo-Katan Kryze will go quietly?”

Nova chokes out a strange laugh. “No,” she manages, and then a sharp ring from the holotable breaks through the moment. She reaches forward, turning it back on, and the smiling, fierce face of Cara Dune lights up blue. “Hi,” she breathes, stepping forward.

“Hi,” Cara returns, grinning over at Wedge, too. “I know you’re in the middle of finding Bo-Katan,” she says, her voice strangely gentle, “but I might have more information on the hit out on you.”

Nova steps forward again, until her face is practically flush against Cara’s blue one. “You do?”

Cara nods. “I still don’t know who uploaded it to the server,” she says, sighing, “but I haven’t given up on that, either.”

“Okay,” Nova says slowly, swallowing. “For what it’s worth, Cara, I think the same person that took Bo-Katan did it.”

Cara looks up at her, eyebrows furrowing down the middle. “You do.”

“I do.”

“Well,” Cara says, “then we’re on the right track. We know it was written before you became Novalise. We know it originated on Coruscant. And we know whoever put this up was in league with the Calicans, so that’s three things that we’re positive about. And if you think Bo-Katan’s kidnapper is the same person, then we have another huge hit of information, and it means we're getting much closer.”

Nova clenches her jaw. “She’s dangerous,” she wants, “but if we can get her, if we can prove this, do you think that we can—” Her words evaporate in her mouth because Cara’s already nodding.

“Lock the bitch up?” Cara asks, grinning. “It would be my pleasure.”

Something warmer spills down Nova’s spine. It feels like she’s breathing again for the first time since she landed on Hoth. “Cara—”

“I have good news,” Cara continues. Nova feels Wedge’s shoulders relax behind her, and she exhales through her nose. “I can’t tell you for certain that the woman who took Bo-Katan is the same one that’s after you, and the same one who uploaded this hit, but I have it broken down to the basest technology.”

Nova squints. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Cara says, grinning, “that I can take it down.”

Nova’s knees buckle. “Really?” she breathes, and the tears are back. She exhales, a breathy laugh escaping with the air in her lungs, and she presses her hand against her lips, trying to keep her heartbeat steady. “For—for good? You can wipe it from the system?”

Cara nods, that same smile still stretched across her face. “Pull up your bounty,” she continues, and Nova hears the faint beeping of the computing system working next to where Cara’s figure is portrayed on the holotable. Nova tries to, she really does, but she can’t seem to move without her entire body turning to jelly, so Wedge swiftly moves forward and pulls up the picture of a fifteen-year-old Novalise, with ANDROMEDA MALUEV blinking underneath her portrait. Nova stares at it for as long as her eyes will stay open, and when she closes her eyes, for that tiny fraction of a second, the blaring, blue writing of MURDER disappears.

And then her portrait does, too. Nova’s old name, the sharp letters, is the ;ast thing to remain. Cara looks up into Nova’s eyes, across the stars, across all of the Outer Rim, and then, letter by letter, ANDROMEDA MALUEV disappears, too.

Nova’s knees really do buckle this time. She cries softly into her hand, tears leaking out of her eyes, a smile pressed into her palm. “Thank you,” she manages, her voice all wobbly.

“I’m going to get a bottle of something to celebrate,” Wedge says, warmly, squeezing Nova’s shoulder before disappearing out of the airlock door, and it’s just Nova and Cara looking at each other through the blue shine of the holotable. Cara’s grin stretches wider.

“You’re free,” she says, quietly, and Nova has to close her eyes and press her mouth into a thin line to keep the happy sobs from escaping out of her mouth. “Andromeda Maluev—and the people who hunted her—can’t hurt you anymore.”

Nova tucks her hair behind both ears. “I don’t know about that,” she whispers, her voice all wobbly, “but she’s not chasing me, trying to get me killed, anymore. I can grieve the girl I was.”

“Cheers to that,” Cara says, pulling a flash off her hip and raising it in solidarity. Nova giggles, the sound musical and melodic in the darkness of the room. She wants to say a million things, to thank Cara, but the tears of relief keep getting in the way. An alarm sounds from somewhere distant, wherever Cara is, and she disappears off the blue holotable screen for a second before reappearing. “I know you want to save Bo-Katan,” Cara continues, as Wedge walks back into the room with two sloshing cups of bubbly, alcoholic drinks. “I do, too. And I know you’ll figure it out. But remember that whoever took her, whoever put this hit out on you—she’s not invincible. And she’s not immortal. And she came from somewhere, and she must have left a paper trail when she did.” Cara pauses, and there’s something in her eyes that Nova can’t quite figure out.

Nova, despite not being a drinker, lifts the glass of the sweet, cold bubbly to her lips, taking a small sip. It fizzes and pops in her mouth, and a rush of warmth runs from her throat to her toes.

“I gotta go,” Cara says, the sound of the alarm ringing again. “But remember that. And remember that the second you catch her, I have an open cell.” Her hand moves across her own hologram, and Nova steps forward.

“Cara,” she says, Nova’s voice still shaking, “thank you.”

Cara grins. “Anytime,” she says, her teeth glinting, ice blue. “Novalise.”

When Nova falls asleep in her bunkroom, the warmth of the tiny victory keeps Hoth’s frigid exterior away.

Nova promised herself that she’d only sleep for a handful of minutes, an hour at most, long enough for the few sips of alcohol to filter out of her system, long enough to keep her headache at bay, because she has an enemy to go after and a friend to save, but when she jolts awake, it’s been five hours, and it’s the middle of the night.

Her comm is silent, no missed messages, but Nova knows that there’s no way that Din, Boba, and Fennec—and likely Koska and Axe back on Mandalore, Bo-Katan’s closest confidantes—are sleeping through the night. Nova reaches out for the water on her nightstand, icy and cold, and gulps it down to the last drop. She only has her underclothes on, so she yanks on another pair of thick socks, pulling her off-white parka off the shelf, wrapping the Mandalorian blue shawl around her head. Nova allows herself a single yawn before she shoves her hands in her pockets and opens the door. Everyone else left on Hoth—a handful of Alliance members and generals—is asleep. She sneaks down the quiet hall to the war room, which is quiet and empty.

The holotable flicks on as soon as Nova touches it. She swallows, searching through her pockets until her fingers close over the drive she downloaded everything onto back at the research center on Dantooine. She’s not sure what exactly she’s looking for, but she knows that if she combs through Ladmeny Sparmau’s profile, compiled from all of the information the Alliance and other accounts across the galaxy collected in her destructive wake, she’ll find something. Something to figure out her whereabouts. Something to take her down when Nova finds her.

Most of the information is fragmented. There’s accounts of the holy sites and the communities she’s destroyed. There’s the political reports from Mandalore before it really fell, how she worked in the shadows with Darth Maul and as a bounty hunter. But nothing in those two words is anything Nova can associate with Din. Before he was Mand’alor, back when he still only worked for the Guild, he was dangerous. People knew not to mess with him. He was stoic and silent and powerful, but Nova never once saw him kill someone—or even hurt them—if he didn’t have to, or if they weren’t a direct threat.

Ladmeny Sparmau, it seemed, took pleasure in torturing her bounties. Half the time, she didn’t even collect the money, because whatever guild she worked for wanted the quarries alive. She exclusively returned them dead, bodies long gone cold. Bo-Katan wasn’t exaggerating how razor-sharp she always was. Nova scrolls through the names of every life Ladmeny took back before Bo-Katan tried to take her out of commission on Jedha, and there are hundreds. When Nova closes her eyes, trying to wipe the vision of all of them away, she tries to imagine something warm in her heart, something that Bo-Katan could have loved. She can’t picture it. And somewhere, buried deep in the back of her mind, Nova wonders if Ladmeny Sparmau’s closeness is what made Bo-Katan so cold.

“Hey,” Nova hears, and she whirls on her heel. She’s expecting Wedge, maybe one of the generals, but when she turns around, it’s Din. Something falters in her knees, and then she’s running back toward him, hitting the beskar hard. Nova doesn’t care. There’s something broken inside where Bo-Katan’s disappearance lives, and she clings to her husband, wanting him to fix it with his warmth, with his arms around her, with his mouth pressed to hers.

“You’re back,” she breathes, like it’s been years and not just a few hours, and Din’s gloved hand finds her cheek again. “Did you—”

“I have a lead,” he interrupts, thumb grazing over her cheekbone. “I don’t know if it’s anything solid, but everyone else on Mandalore is still looking for her, and I couldn’t sit by and watch when I may I have found something.”

Nova nods, swallowing past the lump in her throat. “Can we go?” she whispers, her breath turning to a white cloud in the air. “Check out the lead?”

Din regards her for a minute before he nods, movement so precise underneath the helmet. “Yes,” he whispers, his hand notching in Nova’s, “but we have to be quiet about it.” She feels Luke’s lightsaber swing against her leg from where it’s anchored against her belt. The two of them move toward the door, and then Wedge’s silhouette is blocking the exit.

He looks exhausted, but considerably less bleary and angry as he did earlier, and Nova’s pounding heartbeat relaxes in her chest. “If I had a credit for every time the two of you ran off to save the world without letting the rest of us know,” Wedge says, the hint of a smile in his voice, “I’d be a very rich man.”

“We have a lead,” Nova manages, breathlessly, and Wedge sighs, stepping to the side.

“Be careful out there,” he calls after the two of them, as Nova nd Din rush towards the airlock door, in the total darkness except for the light of the snow outside, “and don’t disappear for three months again, or I swear to the Maker, you’ll be in big trouble when you get back.”

“Roger, roger,” Nova tosses over her shoulder, and as she and Din disappear into the snow, revitalized with the possibility of getting Bo-Katan back, she thinks she hears Wedge laugh. The sound of it pumps more hope into her lungs than Nova thought was possible.

Din’s ship is quiet. It’s so much sleeker than the Rebel starships Nova’s used to flying, but the second the mouth of the gangplank closes off the interior from the rest of the world, it just looks like a ship. Nova sits in the copilot’s seat as Din navigates off of Hoth’s silent surface, the whitewash of the landscape glowing under the moon that keeps watch over the Rebel base. She can feel her pulse hammering, the familiar rush of adrenaline coursing under her skin. Nova watches the silhouette of Din’s armor, like she’s trying to memorize it for the first time. The way it shines, silver, even in the low light of the ship. How it fits perfectly against his body—his broad shoulders, his tight stomach, the curves of his calves, hugging to his thighs. The helmet that covered his face for the first few months she spent loving him. Nova’s heart lurches. She’s getting distracted. And greedy. And she feels like the worst friend ever, because the whole point of them going alone together in the middle of the night is to save Bo-Katan, but when the visor fixates on her, Nova can’t help the way that her legs squeeze together, how her breath hitches in her throat.

“Where are we going?” she asks, winded, and Din cocks his head to the left, regarding Nova underneath the helmet. She tries to focus on his answer, whatever he’s about to say, but everything is so tumultuous that all Nova wants is to be drunk on Din’s touch, to let his mouth take the rest of the world away, just for a little while.

“Korrus,” Din answers. Through the modulator, the word sounds even deeper. Nova presses her lips together.

“That planet is entirely under Imperial control,” Nova manages, crossing her legs, watching as the ship glides through hyperspace. “At least, it was—”

“Still is,” Din sighs, turning more towards Nova than the front window. “Only, now, it’s stopped outwardly associating itself with the Empire. But it’s still full of thieves and criminals and likely people who are involved in the First Order.”

Nova swallows. “What’s the lead?”

Din shifts in his seat. He’s now fully facing Nova, and his legs are spread out. She can feel the low hum of desire buzzing in her ears, even as she inwardly chastises herself for not focusing on the mission, on Bo-Katan. She feels like a horny teenager, and she clenches her jaw down, forcing her gaze to stay on Din’s visor, not to drift anywhere that’ll distract her even more. “There’s a club there,” Din says, finally. He tilts his head to the side. Nova swallows. “It’s dirty. Seedy. I’ve been there once before, chasing a bounty. Lots of hunters work in and around the inner city, and they find most of the leads at the tables in there. And the man in charge owes me a big favor.”

Nova squints at him. “Din, what—are you saying you have a lead on...a lead?”

Din sighs, through the modulator. One of his knees twitches, and out of her peripheral vision, Nova can see that his legs spread wider. “I’m saying that I don’t know who took Bo-Katan—or, more accurately, where Sparmau went with her—but I know how to milk information out of other bounty hunters like I know how to get it out of bounties. They like to brag, on Korrus. Someone will know her whereabouts.”

Nova nods. “And then what?”

She imagines Din’s eyes flashing under the visor. “Then we go get her,” he says, a hard edge to his voice.

Nova lifts an eyebrow, staring her husband down. She wets her lips, crossing her arms. “Just the two of us?”

Din nods.

“That’s suicide.”

“No, it’s not,” Din says, darkly. “You have your lightsaber. I have the Darksaber, and all the weapons hidden in the beskar. And both of us are angry and powerful enough to take her down. I’m fucking tired of the people I care about getting taken away or taken out. I could tear her limb from limb with my bare hands and it wouldn't be enough.”

Despite everything, something low and wet sings deep inside of Nova. She tries to catch her breath, fails, and tries again. “I—” Nova inhales, exhales, staring over at Din. “I never got the impression that you cared that much about Bo-Katan.”

Din sighs. For a second, there’s no noise in the starship beside the low hum of the engine. “Maybe Bo-Katan isn’t my friend,” Din enunciates, “but she’s yours.” There’s something electric hidden in the timbre of his voice. “Nobody takes anything away from you without consequence.”

Nova’s eyes flutter open. There’s a current running through her, and the buzz of it is making her reckless. “What would you do?” she asks, feeling like all the air in the cockpit has evaporated, “if Sparmau had me instead?”

Nova’s breath catches in her throat. “You’re a Mandalorian,” she manages. Her heartbeat is thudding around in her ears now, and any level of professionalism on the mission ahead of them has been completely wiped from the slate. “Aren’t weapons supposed to be your religion?”

Din nods. They’re only inches away from each other at this point, but Nova’s afraid if she reaches out to touch her Mandalorian, they won’t stop until they’re out in the Unknown Regions, stranded in the middle of nowhere, and despite the backburner it’s been put on, they have a mission to complete. “If someone took you away from me,” Din enunciates, every word reverberating through the modulator, “the only thing I would worship would be violence. I wouldn’t need weapons. I wouldn’t need any help from the stars above. I would cut down every single person keeping me from you, and I wouldn’t care whose lives I took in the process.”

Nova feels suspended in amber, like she’s on a high wire, like she’s been frozen in place. When she leans forward, hooking her fingers under the rim of Din’s helmet to pull it clean off, the ship drops out of hyperspace. The lurch is aggressive, and it knocks Nova off her chair, onto her knees, looking up at Din, whose lips are visible under the visor. She stares at them, the plush, pink fullness of the mouth that devours her, before both of them are knocked out of the reverie by the jolt of entering Korrus’ atmosphere. Din’s hands latch around Nova’s waist, hard enough to pull her upwards, and when both of them are standing, the ship touching down on the planet’s rocky, crude surface, his hand anchors on the small of her back, pressing Nova into the beskar. She can feel him harden against her, pressing his pelvis against her upper thigh, and a tiny noise escapes from Nova’s mouth before she can refocus herself on the mission at hand. With his other hand, Din grabs her chin, pulling her open mouth against his visible one.

“Din—”

He slams the helmet down over his face again, and lets his vicelike grip on Nova go. She sighs, sagging backwards in the absence of his pull, before Din’s gloved hand knots in her bare one. “Later,” he grits out, and it sounds like a promise, a vow, a prayer.

They walk over the uneven surface of Korrus. Every time Din bumps against her, Nova’s breath catches in her throat. She tries to anchor herself, focusing on saving Bo-Katan, prioritizing the reason they’re here, but there’s something primal inside of her that still can’t think straight. It’s all the desperation and violence of the last few months, she thinks, everything that she’s had to internalize and compress, to curl up like a feral animal inside of her chest. All Nova wants to do is release it, to relieve herself of that pressure, that tension. Logically, she knows getting the wind fucked out of her isn’t going to satiate anything screaming inside of her, but as Nova watches the way Din strides over the rocky terrain, headed straight for the inner city, Maker, she wants to pretend it could.

“Where’s the club?” Nova asks as they move over the hills and deposits. Din points ahead of them, where the low, compacted outline of a city spills out over the rock and salt. Nova watches the sun on the horizon, fire red and dangerous, keeping in time to Din’s step. It’s the first time since she woke up from her accidental three month slumber that he isn’t on top of her as they move, ensuring every other minute that she’s okay to keep moving. Nova follows his steady pace, determined to keep the question at bay. Right now, she’s not the girl who disappeared, the girl who spent the last few months underwater in sleep. She’s Novalise Djarin, undercover Rebel, Jedi in training, ready to take down the evil that’s holding her friend captive.

When they get to the city line, Din steps out in front of Nova. She watches as he moves, fluid and intentional, and in the low breeze whistling through the seedy, dark buildings, his cape flies out in front of her. Usually, when they go on these missions, Din changes back into his bounty hunter underclothes, but right now, the fabric is flying the proverbial Mandalorian flag, blue and royal. Nova grins at the sight of it, unabashed and loud.

She feels the pounding of the music pouring out of the club, in the heart of the inner city, before she hears it. It reverberates through the rocky stone streets, and it pounds in her mouth, a drumbeat. It’s smoky and red and it seems to roll out into the city, dangerous and flickering. Novalise, for some reason, feels even more fortified by locking eyes with the open maw of the door, squaring her shoulders. This isn’t a place for her to pull punches. She’s so ready to strike something with her fist.

Din’s arm snaps up in front of her, and Nova walks straight into the beskar. “Ow,” she says, pointedly.

Even over the pulse of the music, Din’s sigh is audible. “You can’t go in looking like that.”

Nova raises an eyebrow, incredulous. “Excuse me?”

Din exhales, even under the helmet, Nova can tell it’s through his nostrils. “Believe me,” he says, darkly, “if it were up to me, you’d go in there in full armor. But we don’t have the rest of your beskar, and the fluffy parka from Hoth will immediately flag you as a Rebel.”

Nova holds his gaze under the visor, and then she slips it off, letting the coat hit the cobblestone pavement. All that’s underneath is the black shirt and matching pants that Bo-Katan hurriedly dressed her in before Nova’s trip to Jedha. Din’s helmet bobs as he looks her up and down. “You—” he cuts himself off. Nova looks at him, not understanding, and then his gloved hand closes over her wrist and yanks her into the alley. “You’re not—uh, I don’t know how to say—you’re not showing enough. Skin.”

Nova stares at him. She knows that she should be angry, or at the very least, exasperated with this club’s disgusting standard for women to enter into a place that’s basically its very own crime syndicate, but the music and Din’s touch has rocketed her pulse up, and the current of adrenaline that comes with saving the day is warm and heavy. “So I’ll run into that store,” she says, head tilted back to look up at Din, pointing one long finger to the market down the alleyway, “and find something more appropriate.”

Din steps forward, his body anchoring Nova’s against the wall, even though he’s barely touching her. “Novalise, maybe I should just go in alone—”

“Absolutely not,” Nova says, firmly, her voice clear and strong. “We’re saving Bo-Katan. Together. Let me go buy my entry into that club.”

Din’s hand closes around her wrist again. “Get whatever you want,” he breathes, his voice dark, “but if anyone looks at you wrong in there, I’m leaving with more names crossed off my hit list.”

Nova has to turn on her heel before she pulls both of them deeper into the privacy of the alley to get what she really wants.

When she reemerges, it’s in a short black dress that barely covers her ass and sparkles like the night sky. Din groans. Nova grins. The clerk in the store sold her smoky, kohl eyeliner, and Nova couldn’t resist, smudging wings of her eyeliner out, setting her eyes into the dark and danger allure of the club they’re about to storm. At this point, it’s more than just fitting into the scene. It’s her war paint. Din’s leaning against the same wall he pushed her up against earlier, and at first sight, his knees sag.

“Nova—”

“Think I’ll get in now?” she asks, but even though she can’t see Din’s face, she knows exactly what his winded expression looks like.

“You’re killing me,” Din hisses, low and wet, and as they walk towards the club, Nova’s stomach flutters with butterflies that have nothing to do with going undercover.

It’s so loud inside. Nova’s used to noise—Kicker’s gravelly hum, the pulse of the lightsaber, the crowded Rebel bases she grew up on—but this music is oppressively loud. It’s different from the typical cantina bands that usually frequent places like this, even the ones that dip into sultrier songs to adjust for the atmosphere. The music is low and laden with synth beats, and the bodies packed from wall to wall make everything overwhelming. Overhead, the lights filter in and out of an angry, sensual red, and a low white pulse.

Din navigates through the crowd like an expert, Nova holding on tight to his hand. People are swaying to the sound of the music. In the middle are tiny tables that people are huddled over, playing Sabacc or cards or other games that Nova’s never seen. As they walk by, heads turn, but Nova’s not sure if it’s because of the tiny dress she’s wearing or because of the Mandalorian that has her wrist in a death grip, possessive and dangerous. Finally, they make it to the heart of the club—a long, metal, ornate table filled with people with wicked expressions on their faces. Nova swallows as Din slides into an empty seat like it’s made for him, standing behind him like a sentinel, trying to exude the confidence that she belongs here like he does.

Every single person sitting at the table is a man. There’s a Twi’lek, and there’s a few other people that look like they’re mixed between something human and something alien, but they’re all men. Nova tries to set her jaw, to portray that she’s not scared of them, but they’re leering at her like she’s their next meal, and the only person allowed to devour her is Din Djarin.

Like he can read her mind, Din’s hand reaches out behind him, so quick that everyone reacts. Except Nova. She stands perfectly still as Din’s gloved hand closes around her open thigh, dragging him toward him. Every single eye at the table is on the two of them, and despite the intensity of the situation, despite knowing that they’re here for one specific reason, Nova smirks up at them, all of the butterflies in her stomach hardening, turning into gilded weapons.

“What do you want, Mando?” The man at the head of the table is the first one to break the silence, his voice carrying over the noise in the club.

“Besides for all of you to stop staring at my wife?” Din asks, his words radiating and intentional. “Information.”

The other men shift in their seats. A few of them have other women on their laps or standing right next to them, and as Nova makes eye contact with one of them, her expression fearful and exhausted, rage roils like an inferno in her stomach.

The man at the head of the table leans forward. “The Mandalorian has taken a lover?” His eyes flick up to Nova, rolling down her body, her miniscule dress, and she has to bite her tongue. Din’s grip digs into her thighs. Nova knows what his touch means—wait for it.

“The Mandalorian has taken a wife,” Din snaps, and Nova lifts her chin, her gaze boring into the other man’s. “But I’m not here to talk about her.”

“Shame. I’d like to.”

Nova can feel Din’s fingernails even through the glove. Still, she doesn’t wince. She stands her ground, quiet and poised. They want to talk about her like she’s not even there? Fine. She’ll be invisible until she’s not. She pats the pauldron on his shoulder, and Din’s grip releases, just enough. Din pulls out a bounty puck. Nova, despite wanting to stare the other man down until he falter under her expression, is distracted by it until Din lights it up and Ladmeny Sparmau’s evil portrait illuminates blue against the low red light of the club. Half of the people at the table wince at her face. “I know you know this woman. You used to run in the same circles.”

There’s nothing but venom in the other man’s face. “Haven’t run with her in a long while, Mando. And if you’re after her, you’re in for it.”

Din straightens. “I don’t care.”

The other man pushes his shot glass against his open mouth. When he slams it back down on the table, his arm snakes out and pulls the girl by his side onto his lap. Nova looks into her eyes again, taking stock of the skimpy outfit she’s wearing, and then she sees the chain looped around her throat. It’s small enough to look like a necklace, but her eyes travel the links down and see a larger one curl down her spine, anchoring her in place. Nova sees red. “What do you say we make a deal?” The man asks, looking back over at Nova. She narrows her eyes as his grow lecherous. “I’ll tell you where I saw Sparmau last if you let me have a dance with your hot little wife.”

Din lunges forward. Nova knows that even with the threat of every other person in this club shooting at him, he’ll throttle the other man to death, but she clenches her hand around the pauldron and at her touch alone, Din slams back into his seat. “No deal,” he snarls, pulling Nova closer.

The other man grins, pressing the rim of another shot to his awful, wet lips. “Guess we’ll both leave here without a happy ending, then,” he shrugs. Nova can feel the anger radiating off of Din, hot and palpable. His trigger finger is already on his blaster. Behind her, Nova can sense people moving in, and somehow, she knows that it’s the other man’s security.

“How about a compromise,” Nova says, the words out of her mouth before she can bite them back. Everyone’s eyes are on her now. The other man holds up his hand, and the advancing security halts in place.

He leans forward. “I’m listening.”

Din’s helmet moves left to right, imperceptibly. Nova knows he’s angry. She can feel it, as red hot as the lights above them. But she lifts her chin, brazen instead of desperate. Din’s going to hate it. But it'll get them answers, and if he wants, then he can tear the other man limb from limb and scratch his leering eyes out. Nova moves forward, sitting down on Din’s thigh. The other man’s smile grows. Nova tosses her hair over her shoulder, fingers finding the tiniest crack in Din’s armor and pushing down, skin to skin, right on his pulse point. “I give you a show on his lap,” Nova manages, keeping her voice level, “and you give him the answers he wants.”

“Absolutely fucking not, Novalise,” Din hisses, his fingers digging into her waist, but the other man grins, clearly pleased.

“Novalise,” he says, like he’s savoring her name for later. Nova wants to take the lightsaber out of where it’s hidden under Din’s robes and cut his head off, but she just flutters her eyelashes and leans forward, knowing that every single man at the table is going to try to look down her dress. “That’s a very pretty name. It suits you.”

Nova offers up a smile, sickly sweet. “My friends call me Nova.”

“What the fuck are you doing,” Din breathes, his voice shaking.

“Nova,” the other man says, drawing out the ah sound at the end.

Nova raises her eyebrows, the same smile plastered across her face. “But you’re not my friend.” She drops the smile as she swings her hips around so she’s completely facing Din, straddling one big, thick thigh. “I know what I’m doing,” she mouths to Din. His helmet is so reflective that she can see her lips moving. “He’s not going to touch me, and we’re going to figure out how to save Bo-Katan.”

She can feel the disgusting eyes of every man at the table boring into her exposed back. Nova runs her tongue over her teeth, one hand slipping down to where her lightsaber is on Din’s belt, and right next to it, where the Darksaber knocks against her fingers.

“I hate this idea,” Din grits out, and then Nova starts moving. Slowly, her pelvis tilting back and forth, riding his thigh. He makes a strangled noise that Nova knows is hidden under the music, and Nova tugs on both of the sabers.

“Easy access to the weapons,” she mutters, moving up and down the length of the beskar plate on his thigh. “The second you say the word, we have the upper hand.”

Din’s hand clenches around her waist, and Nova slides hers down the beskar plates on his chest, tantalizingly slow. She can feel how short her dress is, where the fabric stops, and she leans forward into Din’s torso to expose the tiniest bit of her ass. She closes her eyes, fighting back the urge to tear Luke’s lightsaber off her husband’s belt and drop every single one of them, and instead focusing on the music, the way the beats are pulsing, thankful that the underwear she stepped into back on Mandalore cover the majority of what everyone else wants to see.

“Talk, Hixsla,” Din growls, and the other man does. Nova wants to pay attention to what he’s saying, but every time she strains her ears to hear over the incendiary, eternal pulse of the music, her hips stop moving and so do Hixsla’s words. So Nova doesn’t think about him. She doesn’t think about the filthy, greedy crime lords sitting around the table that are getting hard at watching her give Din a lap dance. She doesn’t think about the way they’re probably going to memorize the shape of her ass for later.

Nova focuses on the rhythm of the music and what she’s doing. Riding the beskar isn't as sexy as it would be if she didn't have any panties on. If it were just the two of them—back on Din’s ship, on an abandoned planet, perched on top of his lap on the beskar throne on Mandalore—she wouldn’t be doing this for an audience, and she would leave the metal wet from her pussy. When she thinks about that—how cold the beskar would be against her bare skin, how stained with her cum she’d leave it for Din to walk around in later—everything about this scene fades away. Nova leans into the crook of Din’s neck as he talks, hitching her legs up a little bit higher on his thigh. With her left leg, she can feel how hard he is, fucking rock solid under her touch, and Nova moans into the hollow of his neck, quiet and wet, something only he can hear. Despite the situation, despite everyone else’s eyes on the two of them, Din’s cock jumps through his pants. As he moves to lean forward, Nova finds the sweet spot, the lip of the beskar plate on his thigh, and rubs her swollen clit up against it, again and again, until everything else filters out—the men leering, Hixsla talking, even the sultry synth of the pounding music—and she’s right on the edge. Without stopping, and without even alerting the men seated around the table, Din brings his hand under the edge of Nova’s dress, the heel of his hand moving straight where she needs it, and as he presses against her, relentless and desperate, Nova stifles her moan as she lets go.

It’s fucking filthy. Immediately after, Nova regrets it, a hot flush rising to her cheeks out of embarrassment, knowing that this is probably what the rest of the men wanted to see, but she’s still hearing the blood pounding in her ears, her legs shaking, the sweet release of her orgasm wet on her panties, and in an attempt to disguise it, she keeps moving her hips in steady, even pulses, her eyes rolling back in the safety of Din’s shoulder.

“Nova,” Din says, his voice audible enough to be heard by the rest of the table, so fucking hot through the modulator, “that’s enough, baby.”

Novalise pulls up, her eyes locking with Din’s under the helmet. The last time he called her baby, it was back on Coruscant, when Xi’an had him in her captivity. Then, it was to signify where he was, but Nova had thought that he was talking about the kid, alluding to Force sensitivity. Nova grins at him, knowing exactly what he’s insinuating, and then both of her hands are at Din’s belt, yanking both of the sabers free.

They’re both on their feet before the rest of the men at the table can react. In unison, they each ignite their blades—Nova’s blue and cutting through the red light of the room, Din’s double-edged black and white, electric and crackling. Most of the people in their general vicinity have the good sense to run the hell away, but half of the men at the table level their blasters at the two of them.

“Not smart, Mando,” Hixsla says, grinning, and his hand wraps around the chain of the girl on his lap. “Most of this club works for me. There’s no way in hell that you two are getting out of this. But,” he sighs, leaning back in his chair like he thinks he’s the fucking king of the galaxy, “I’ll be extra nice to you before you die, Nova. But the two of you, leaving here alive? I don’t like your odds.”

Din snarls under the helmet.

“Hey,” Nova calls, over the yells of the others in the club, twirling her lightsaber in her hand like she’s been doing this her whole life, “what’s our ratio on getting out of sticky situations where the odds aren’t necessarily in our favor?”

Din lunges forward, cutting a crack, white hot, through the table, breaking it in half. “Well, we’ve never lost,” he says, and then he’s kicking the remnants of the table aside so he can level the Darksaber at Hixsla’s throat. “Now. You can either let every single girl in here go and promise to never touch them again, or I can cut your head off your body.”

Hixsla, at least, has the sense to look scared. “There’s no reason to do that,” he says, and then one of his security guards shoots at Din’s back. Nova knows the beskar will stop it, but it’s been weeks and weeks since she’s seen any real action, and she steps in front of the bullet, back to back with her husband, the Skywalker family lightsaber stopping the blast midair.

“Cheap shot,” she calls, and the guard snarls at her, moving forward, but Nova’s not afraid. She saw the way this man was handling some of the other girls in the club—ones with the same chains around their necks—so she waits until he’s in an arm’s range and slices his hand clean off. He screams, falling to the floor. Nova leans low over him, holding the flickering blade of the saber until his face turns blue. “Stop touching people without their consent,” she says, calm and even, and then she singes his other hand, watching as he runs right out of the club the second he can heave himself to his feet.

“Okay,” Hixsla says, both of his hands up in surrender. Nova rolls out from behind Din’s back, using the lightsaber to sever the chains keeping the girl anchored to his lap. Hixsla roars, but Nova holds the blade up, flickering with intent. With her free hand, Nova pulls the girl off the floor, her hand smoothing over her long, red hair.

“What’s your name?” Nova asks gently, the girl clinging to her wrist, tears in her eyes.

“Shai,” she whispers.

Nova nods, offering her a small smile. “You take every other girl in here, and you run, Shai. Get to a landing bay, and pay a pilot to get you all off of Korrus. Go to Dantooine, there’s a shelter there in the city.”

Shai stifles a small sob. “I don’t have any money,” she says, and Nova vows to cut both of Hixsla’s hands off before Din kills him. She holds up a finger, digging through the pocket in Din’s trousers, finding their bag of credits. She tosses the bag to Shai, whose lip trembles. Nova sees the bruises on her neck, the ones on her legs, and something angry and red calcifies inside of her stomach.

“You do now,” Nova says, wiping Shai’s tears away. “Go.”

At Nova’s word, she does. Nova swallows through the lump of her throat, letting a small, tiny wash of relief roll over her before she turns back to Hixsla.

“If I find out that you gave me the wrong information about Sparmau,” Din says, his voice cold and devoid of anything—anger, grit, empathy, “I will come back here and I will torture the right answer out of any of your cronies left standing.”

“Mando, we had a deal,” Hixsla starts, his voice rising through an octave. Nova watches him look around, taking stock of his deserted, destroyed club. “You got more than you asked for, and I’m also letting you leave alive.”

“Oh, is that right?” Din asks. Nova looks over at him, taking in his rigid form, how terrifying he can be when he wants to. “Well, then, I’ll leave that for my wife to decide.” He steps backward, and Nova furrows her eyebrows down the middle as he hands her the ignited Darksaber, the blade hissing and pulsing in her hand.

Nova widens her eyes, trying to get Din to elaborate, but he steps back, leaving Novalise face to face with Hixsla. “Please,” he says, “we had a deal. You got more than I offered. Just leave, and I won’t come after either of you.”

“Nova,” Din calls, but she doesn't dare take her eyes off the slippery man in front of her, “do you think Hixsla honored our deal?”

“Maybe,” Nova says, stepping forward, Luke’s saber in her left hand, the Darksaber in her right, “but I don’t like the idea of leaving someone who chains women up to assault them alive, deal or no deal.”

“Nova,” Hixsla pleads, and if he didn’t before, he certainly sounds nervous now, “please—”

“I told you,” Nova says, sheathing Luke’s saber and tossing it over her head to Din, “you’re not my fucking friend.” Watching the sleazy, lecherous lights in his eyes go out as she slashes Hixsla’s throat with the Darksaber isn’t retribution enough, but it’s something close to it. She stands over his lifeless body, and for the first time in her whole life, Nova doesn’t feel anything after she’s taken someone else’s.

“Hey,” Din calls behind her, and Nova staggers backward, sheathing the blade of the Darksaber, “cyar’ika, are you okay?”

Nova turns, looking up into his visor, letting out the breath she’d been holding in since the second they stepped into the club. “No,” she answers, honestly, dragging a hand through her hair, “but I will be the second we get off this planet and can go after Bo-Katan.”

Din nods. Halfway back to the ship, he hoists Nova up on his back, her legs around his waist, her arms hooked over his shoulders, and she rests her tired head in the crook of his neck. When they’re back on the starfighter, safe and sound, Nova looks up at Din, who’s standing over her from where she’s sitting in the copilot’s seat.

He leans down, so that his helmet is flush with her face, and his hand grips her neck, light, barely there. “If you think for a second that I’ve forgotten what you did to me in there,” he whispers, low and electric through the modulator, “you haven’t seen anything about how hard and long I can fuck you yet.”

Nova, immediately, sits up, revitalized. “Say more,” she breathes, “and devour me.” And this time, when she hooks her fingers under the rim of the helmet, Din lets her pull it clean off.

“We’re going to Mustafar,” Din breathes into her mouth, “but I’m going to be inside you the entire way there.”

Nova moans, letting everything else fall away. She feels the starship lift off of Korrus’s surface, but she’s far too distracted with Din’s lips on her neck, the hungry way he’s tearing off her tiny little dress. Too late, she hazily remembers that she left her parka back in the back alley, but then Din’s fingers find the band of her panties and press inside, teasing at her entrance, and everything else fades out.

That is, until the comm blares. Nova groans, tossing her head back, and Din doesn’t seem deterred, pulling her panties off. But the noise keeps sounding, and finally, he snarls and turns around, slamming his palm onto the talk button. “What?” he asks, voice lethal and dangerous, and Nova suppresses a giggle until she hears who’s on the other line.

“Din Djarin,” Bo-Katan hisses, her voice exhausted and hoarse, “you have to promise me. It’s a trap. Don’t you dare come after me—”

She lets out a strangled noise and Nova hears the awful echo of a scream before the comm clicks off and leaves them with nothing but space and terrible, terrible silence.

I HOPE YOU LOVED IT!!! ngl i read a lot of this back this morning after writing 10k words of PORN last night and i was like holy fuck. i need to go to horny jail. now i have incriminated you all as well. amen

the next chapter is going to be just as hot and heavy, i've already started in on it ;)

CHAPTER 12 WILL BE UP AT 7:30 PM EST ON SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 27TH!!!

xoxo, amelie

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